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diff --git a/old/im13b10.txt b/old/im13b10.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 2206559..0000000 --- a/old/im13b10.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8598 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg Etext of MM. and Bebe, by Gustave Droz, entire -#13 in our series The French Immortals Crowned by the French Academy -#4 in our series by Gustave Droz - -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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Hart -and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] -[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales -of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or -software or any other related product without express permission.] - -*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.07/27/01*END* - - - - - -This etext was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> - - - - - -[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the -file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an -entire meal of them. D.W.] - - - - - -MONSIEUR, MADAME AND BEBE - -By GUSTAVE DROZ - - - -Antoine-Gustave Droz was born in Paris, June 9, 1832. He was the son of -Jules-Antoine Droz, a celebrated French sculptor, and grand son of Jean -Pierre Droz, master of the mint and medalist under the Directoire. The -family is of Swiss origin. Gustave entered L'Ecole des Beaux Arts and -became quite a noted artist, coming out in the Salon of 1857 with the -painting 'L'Obole de Cesar'. He also exhibited a little later various -'tableaux de genre': 'Buffet de chemin de fer' (1863), 'A la Sacristie' -and 'Un Succes de Salon' (1864), 'Monsieur le Cure, vous avez Raison' and -'Un Froid Sec' (1865). - -Toward this period, however, he abandoned the art of painting and -launched on the career of an author, contributing under the name of -Gustave Z.... to 'La Vie Parisienne'. His articles found great favor, -he showed himself an exquisite raconteur, a sharp observer of intimate -family life, and a most penetrating analyst. The very gallant sketches, -later reunited in 'Monsieur, Madame, et Bebe' (1866), and crowned by the -Academy, have gone through many editions. 'Entre nous' (1867) and 'Une -Femme genante', are written in the same humorous strain, and procured him -many admirers by the vivacious and sparkling representations of bachelor -and connubial life. However, Droz knows very well where to draw the -line, and has formally disavowed a lascivious novel published in Belgium ---'Un Ete a la campagne', often, but erroneously, attributed to him. - -It seems that Gustave Droz later joined the pessimistic camp. His works, -at least, indicate other qualities than those which gained for him the -favor of the reading public. He becomes a more ingenious romancer, a -more delicate psychologist. If some of his sketches are realistic, we -must consider that realism is not intended 'pour les jeunes filles du -pensiannat'. - -Beside the works mentioned in the above text, Gustave Droz wrote: 'Le -Cahier bleu de Mademoiselle Cibot (1868), 'Auteur d'une Source (1869), -'Un Paquet de Lettres' (1870), 'Babolain' (1872), 'Les Etangs' (1875), -'Tristesses et Sourires (1883), and L'Enfant (1884). - -He died in Paris, October 22, 1895. - - CAMILLE DOUCET - de l'Academie Francaise. - - - - - -CHAPTER I - -MY FIRST SUPPER PARTY - -The devil take me if I can remember her name, notwithstanding I dearly -loved her, the charming girl! - -It is strange how rich we find ourselves when we rummage in old drawers; -how many forgotten sighs, how many pretty little trinkets, broken, old- -fashioned, and dusty, we come across. But no matter. I was now -eighteen, and, upon my honor, very unsuspecting. It was in the arms of -that dear--I have her name at the tip of my tongue, it ended in "ine"-- -it was in her arms, the dear child, that I murmured my first words of -love, while I was close to her rounded shoulder, which had a pretty -little mole, where I imprinted my first kiss. I adored her, and she -returned my affection. - -I really think I should have married her, and that cheerfully, I can -assure you, if it had not been that on certain details of moral weakness -her past life inspired me with doubts, and her present with uneasiness. -No man is perfect; I was a trifle jealous. - -Well, one evening--it was Christmas eve--I called to take her to supper -with a friend of mine whom I esteemed much, and who became an examining -magistrate, I do not know where, but he is now dead. - -I went upstairs to the room of the sweet girl, and was quite surprised to -find her ready to start. She had on, I remember, a square-cut bodice, -a little too low to my taste, but it became her so well that when she -embraced me I was tempted to say: "I say, pet, suppose we remain here"; -but she took my arm, humming a favorite air of hers, and we soon found -ourselves in the street. - -You have experienced, have you not, this first joy of the youth who at -once becomes a man when he has his sweetheart on his arm? He trembles at -his boldness, and scents on the morrow the paternal rod; yet all these -fears are dissipated in the presence of the ineffable happiness of the -moment. He is free, he is a man, he loves, he is loved, he is conscious -that he is taking a forward step in life. He would like all Paris to see -him thus, yet he is afraid of being recognized; he would give his little -finger to grow three hairs on his upper lip, and to have a wrinkle on his -brow, to be able to smoke a cigar without being sick, and to polish off a -glass of punch without coughing. - -When we reached my friend's, the aforesaid examining magistrate, we found -a numerous company; from the anteroom we could hear bursts of laughter, -noisy conversation, accompanied by the clatter of plate and crockery, -which was being placed upon the table. I was a little excited; I knew -that I was the youngest of the party, and I was afraid of appearing -awkward on that night of revelry. I said to myself: "Old boy, you must -face the music, do the grand, and take your liquor like a little man; -your sweetheart is here, and her eyes are fixed on you." The idea, -however, that I might be ill next morning did indeed trouble me; in my -mind's eye, I saw my poor mother bringing me a cup of tea, and weeping -over my excesses, but I chased away all such thoughts and really all went -well up till suppertime. My sweetheart had been pulled about a little, -no doubt; one or two men had even kissed her under my very nose, but I at -once set down these details to the profit and loss column, and in all -sincerity I was proud and happy. - -"My young friends," suddenly exclaimed our host, "it is time to use your -forks vigorously. Let us adjourn to the diningroom." - -Joyful shouts greeted these words, and, amid great disorder, the guests -arranged themselves round the table, at each end of which I noticed two -plates filled up with those big cigars of which I could not smoke a -quarter without having a fit of cold shivers. - -"Those cigars will lead to a catastrophe, if I don't use prudence and -dissemble," said I to myself. - -I do not know how it was, but my sweetheart found herself seated on the -left of the host. I did not like that, but what could I say? And then, -the said host, with his twenty-five summers, his moustache curled up at -the ends, and his self-assurance, seemed to me the most ideal, the most -astounding of young devils, and I felt for him a shade of respect. - -"Well," he said, with captivating volubility, "you are feeling yourself -at home, are you not? You know any guest who feels uncomfortable in his -coat may take it off . . . and the ladies, too. Ha! ha! ha! -That's the way to make one's self happy, is it not, my little dears?" -And before he had finished laughing he printed a kiss right and left on -the necks of his two neighbors, one of whom, as I have already said, was -my beloved. - -The ill-bred dog! I felt my hair rise on end and my face glow like red- -hot iron. For the rest, everybody burst out laughing, and from that -moment the supper went on with increased animation. - -"My young friends," was the remark of that infernal examining magistrate, -"let us attack the cold meat, the sausages, the turkey, the salad; let us -at the cakes, the cheese, the oysters, and the grapes; let us attack the -whole show. Waiter, draw the corks and we will eat up everything at -once, eh, my cherubs? No ceremony, no false delicacy. This is fine fun; -it is Oriental, it is splendid. In the centre of Africa everybody acts -in this manner. We must introduce poetry into our pleasures. Pass me -some cheese with my turkey. Ha! ha! ha! I feel queer, I am wild, I am -crazy, am I not, pets?" And he bestowed two more kisses, as before. If -I had not been already drunk, upon my honor, I should have made a scene. - -I was stupid. Around me they were laughing, shouting, singing, and -rattling their plates. A racket of popping corks and breaking glasses -buzzed in my ears, but it seemed to me that a cloud had risen between me -and the outer world; a veil separated me from the other guests, and, -in spite of the evidence of my senses, I thought I was dreaming. I could -distinguish, however, though in a confused manner, the animated glances -and heightened color of the guests, and, above all, a disorder quite new -to me in the toilettes of the ladies. Even my sweetheart appeared to -have changed. Suddenly--it was as a flash of lightning--my beloved, my -angel, my ideal, she whom that very morning I was ready to marry, leaned -toward the examining magistrate and--I still feel the cold shudder-- -devoured three truffles which were on his plate. - -I experienced keen anguish; it seemed to me as if my heart were breaking -just then. - -Here my recollections cease. What then took place I do not know. All I -remember is that some one took me home in a cab. I kept asking: "Where -is she? Where? Oh, where?" - -I was told that she had left two hours before. The next morning I -experienced a keen sense of despair when the truffles of the examining -magistrate came back to mind. For a moment I had a vague idea of -entering upon holy orders, but time--you know what it is--calmed my -troubled breast. But what the devil was her name? It ended in "ine." -Indeed, no, I believe it ended in "a." - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE SOUL IN AGONY. - -TO MONSIEUR CLAUDE DE L-------- - - Seminary of P------sur-C------- - - (Haute-Saone). - -It affords me unspeakable pleasure to sit down to address you, dear -Claude. Must I tell you that I can not think without pious emotion of -that life which but yesterday we were leading together at the Jesuits' -College. How well I remember our long talks under the great trees, the -pious pilgrimages we daily made to the Father Superior's Calvary, our -charming readings, the darting forth of our two souls toward the eternal -source of all greatness and all goodness. I can still see the little -chapel which you fitted up one day in your desk, the pretty wax tapers we -made for it, which we lighted one day during the cosmography class. - -Oh, sweet recollections, how dear you are to me! Charming details of a -calm and holy life, with what happiness do I recall you! Time in -separating you from me seems only to have brought you nearer in -recollection. I have seen life, alas! during these six long months, but, -in acquiring a knowledge of the world, I have learned to love still more -the innocent ignorance of my past existence. Wiser than myself, you have -remained in the service of the Lord; you have understood the divine -mission which had been reserved for you; you have been unwilling to step -over the profane threshold and to enter the world, that cavern, I ought -to say, in which I am now assailed, tossed about like a frail bark during -a tempest. Nay, the anger of the waves of the sea compared to that of -the passions is mere child's play. Happy friend, who art ignorant of -what I have learned. Happy friend, whose eyes have not yet measured the -abyss into which mine are already sunk. - -But what was I to do? Was I not obliged--despite my vocation and the -tender friendship which called me to your side--was I not obliged, I say, -to submit to the exigencies imposed by the name I bear, and also to the -will of my father, who destined me for a military career in order to -defend a noble cause which you too would defend? In short, I obeyed and -quitted the college of the Fathers never to return again. - -I went into the world, my heart charged with the salutary fears which our -pious education had caused to grow up there. I advanced cautiously, -but very soon recoiled horror-stricken. I am eighteen; I am still young, -I know, but I have already reflected much, while the experience of my -pious instructors has imparted to my soul a precocious maturity which -enables me to judge of many things; besides my faith is so firmly -established and so deeply rooted in my being, that I can look about me -without danger. I do not fear for my own salvation, but I am shocked -when I think of the future of our modern society, and I pray the Lord -fervently, from a heart untainted by sin, not to turn away His -countenance in wrath from our unhappy country. Even here, at the seat of -my cousin, the Marchioness K------de C------, where I am at the present -moment, I can discover nothing but frivolity among the men, and dangerous -coquetry among the women. The pernicious atmosphere of the period seems -to pervade even the highest rank of the French aristocracy. Sometimes -discussions occur on matters pertaining to science and morals, which aim -a kind of indirect blow at religion itself, of which our Holy Father the -Pope should alone be called on to decide. In this way God permits, -at the present day, certain petty savants, flat-headed men of science, -to explain in a novel fashion the origin of humanity, and, despite the -excommunication which will certainly overtake them, to throw down a wild -and impious challenge at the most venerable traditions. - -I have not myself desired to be enlightened in regard to such base -depravity, but I have heard with poignant grief men with great minds and -illustrious names attach some importance to it. - -As to manners and customs, they are, without being immoral, which would -be out of the question in our society, distinguished by a frivolity and a -faculty for being carried away with allurements which are shocking in the -extreme. I will only give you a single example of this, although it is -one that has struck me most forcibly. - -Ten minutes' walk from the house there is a charming little stream -overshadowed by spreading willows; the current is slight, the water -pellucid, and the bed covered with sand so fine that one's feet sink into -it like a carpet. Now, would you believe it, dear friend, that, in this -hot weather, all those staying at the house go at the same time, -together, and, without distinction of sex, bathe in it? A simple garment -of thin stuff, and very tight, somewhat imperfectly screens the strangely -daring modesty of the ladies. Forgive me, my pious friend, for entering -into all these details, and for troubling the peacefulness of your soul -by this picture of worldly scenes, but I promised to share with you my -impressions, as well as my most secret thoughts. It is a sacred contract -which I am fulfilling. - -I will, therefore, acknowledge that these bathing scenes shocked me -greatly, the first time I heard them spoken of. I resented it with a -species of disgust easy to understand, while I positively refused to take -part in them. To speak the truth, I was chafed a little; still, these -worldly railleries could not touch me, and had no effect on my -determination. - -Yesterday, however, about five in the afternoon, the Marchioness sent for -me, and managed the affair so neatly, that it was impossible for me not -to act as her escort. - -We started. The maid carried the bathing costumes both of the -Marchioness and of my sister, who was to join us later. - -"I know," said my cousin, "that you swim well; the fame of your abilities -has reached us here from your college. You are going to teach me to -float, eh, Robert?" - -"I do not set much store by such paltry physical acquirements, cousin," -I replied; "I swim fairly, nothing more." - -And I turned my head to avoid an extremely penetrating aroma with which -her hair was impregnated. You know very well that I am subject to -nervous attacks. - -"But, my dear child, physical advantages are not so much to be despised." - -This "dear child" displeased me much. My cousin is twenty-six, it is -true, but I am no longer, properly speaking, a "dear child," and besides, -it denoted a familiarity which I did not care for. It was, on the part -of the Marchioness, one of the consequences of that frivolity of mind, -that carelessness of speech which I mentioned above, and nothing more; -still, I was shocked at it. She went on: - -"Exaggerated modesty is not good form in society," she said, turning -toward me with a smile. "You will, in time, make a very handsome -cavalier, my dear Robert, and that which you now lack is easy to acquire. -For instance, you should have your hair dressed by the Marquis's valet. -He will do it admirably, and then you will be charming." - -You must understand, my dear Claude, that I met these advances with a -frigidity of manner that left no doubt as to my intentions. - -"I repeat, my cousin," said I to her, "I attach to all this very little -importance," and I emphasized my words by a firm and icy look. Then -only, for I had not before cast my eyes on her, did I notice the peculiar -elegance of her toilette, an elegance for which, unhappily, the -perishable beauty of her person served as a pretext and an encouragement. - -Her arms were bare, and her wrists covered with bracelets; the upper part -of her neck was insufficiently veiled by the too slight fabric of a -transparent gauze; in short, the desire to please was displayed in her by -all the details of her appearance. I was stirred at the aspect of so -much frivolity, and I felt myself blush for pity, almost for shame. - -We reached, at length, the verge of the stream. She loosed my arm and -unceremoniously slid down, I can not say seated herself, upon the grass, -throwing back the long curls depending from her chignon. The word -chignon, in the language of society, denotes that prominence of the -cranium which is to be seen at the back of ladies' heads. It is produced -by making coils or plaits of their long hair. I have cause to believe, -from certain allusions I have heard, that many of these chignons are not -natural. There are women, most worthy daughters of Eve, who purchase for -gold the hair--horyesco referens--of the wretched or the dead. It -sickens one. - -"It is excessively hot, my dear cousin," said she, fanning herself. -"I tremble every moment in such weather lest Monsieur de Beaurenard's -nose should explode or catch fire. Ha, ha, ha. Upon my word of honor I -do." - -She exploded with laughter at this joke, an unbecoming one, and without -much point. Monsieur de Beaurenard is a friend of the Marquis, who -happens to have a high color. Out of politeness, I forced a smile, which -she, no doubt, took for approbation, for she then launched out into -conversation--an indescribable flow of chatter, blending the most profane -sentiments with the strangest religious ideas, the quiet of the country -with the whirl of society, and all this with a freedom of gesture, a -charm of expression, a subtlety of glance, and a species of earthly -poesy, by which any other soul than mine would have been seduced. - -"This is a pretty spot, this charming little nook, is it not?" - -"Certainly, my dear cousin." - -"And these old willows with their large tops overhanging the stream; see -how the field-flowers cluster gayly about their battered trunks! How -strange, too, that young foliage, so elegant, so silvery, those branches -so slender and so supple! So much elegance, freshness and youth shooting -up from that old trunk which seems as if accursed!" - -"God does not curse a vegetable, my cousin." - -"That is possible; but I can not help finding in willows something which -is suggestive of humanity. Perpetual old age resembles punishment. -That old reprobate of the bank there is expiating and suffering, that old -Quasimodo of the fields. What would you that I should do about it, my -cousin, for that is the impression that it gives me? What is there to -tell me that the willow is not the final incarnation of an impenitent -angler?" And she burst out laughing. - -"Those are pagan ideas, and as such are so opposed to the dogmas of -faith, that I am obliged, in order to explain their coming from your -mouth, to suppose that you are trying to make a fool of me." - -"Not the least in the world; I am not making fun of you, my dear Robert. -You are not a baby, you know! Come, go and get ready for a swim; I will -go into my dressing-tent and do the same." - -She saluted me with her hand, as she lifted one of the sides of the tent, -with unmistakable coquetry. What a strange mystery is the heart of -woman! - -I sought out a spot shaded by the bushes, thinking over these things; but -it was not long before I had got into my bathing costume. I thought of -you, my pious friend, as I was buttoning the neck and the wrists of this -conventional garment. How many times have you not helped me to execute -this little task about which I was so awkward. Briefly, I entered the -water and was about to strike out when the sound of the marchioness's -voice assailed my ears. She was talking with her maid inside the tent. -I stopped and listened; not out of guilty curiosity, I can assure you, -but out of a sincere wish to become better acquainted with that soul. - -"No, no, Julie," the marchioness was saying. "No, no; I won't hear you -say any more about that frightful waterproof cap. The water gets inside -and does not come out. Twist up my hair in a net; nothing more is -required." - -"Your ladyship's hair will get wet." - -"Then you can powder it. Nothing is better for drying than powder. And -so, I shall wear my light blue dress this evening; blond powder will go -with it exactly. My child, you are becoming foolish. I told you to -shorten my bathing costume, by taking it up at the knees. Just see what -it looks like!" - -"I was fearful that your ladyship would find it too tight for swimming." - -"Tight! Then why have you taken it in three good inches just here? See -how it wrinkles up; it is ridiculous, don't you see it, my girl, don't -you see it?" - -The sides of the tent were moved; and I guessed that my cousin was -somewhat impatiently assuming the costume in question, in order the -better to point out its defects to her maid. - -"I don't want to look as if I were wound up in a sheet, but yet I want to -be left freedom of action. You can not get it into your head, Julie, -that this material will not stretch. You see now that I stoop a little- -Ah! you see it at last, that's well." - -Weak minds! Is it not true, my pious friend, that there are those who -can be absorbed by such small matters? I find these preoccupations to be -so frivolous that I was pained at being even the involuntary recipient of -them, and I splashed the water with my hands to announce my presence and -put a stop to a conversation which shocked me. - -"I am coming to you, Robert; get into the water. Has your sister arrived -yet?" said my cousin, raising her voice; then softly, and addressing her -maid, she added: "Yes, of course, lace it tightly. I want support." - -One side of the tent was raised, and my relative appeared. I know not -why I shuddered, as if at the approach of some danger. She advanced two -or three steps on the fine sand, drawing from her fingers as she did so, -the gold rings she was accustomed to wear; then she stopped, handed them -to Julie, and, with a movement which I can see now, but which it is -impossible for me to describe to you, kicked off into the grass the -slippers, with red bows, which enveloped her feet. - -She had only taken three paces, but it sufficed to enable me to remark -the singularity of her gait. She walked with short, timid steps, her -bare arms close to her sides. - -She had divested herself of all the outward tokens of a woman, save the -tresses of her hair, which were rolled up in a net. As for the rest, she -was a comical-looking young man, at once slender yet afflicted by an -unnatural plumpness, one of those beings who appear to us in dreams, and -in the delirium of fever, one of those creatures toward whom an unknown -power attracts us, and who resemble angels too nearly not to be demons. - -"Well, Robert, of what are you thinking? Give me your hand and help me -to get into the water." - -She dipped the toes of her arched foot into the pellucid stream. - -"This always gives one a little shock, but the water ought to be -delightful to-day," said she. "But what is the matter with you?--your -hand shakes. You are a chilly mortal, cousin." - -The fact is, I was not trembling either through fear or cold; but on -approaching the Marchioness, the sharp perfume which emanated from her -hair went to my head, and with my delicate nerves you will readily -understand that I was about to faint. I mastered this sensation, -however. She took a firm grip of my hand, as one would clasp the knob of -a cane or the banister of a stair, and we advanced into the stream side -by side. - -As we advanced the stream became deeper. The Marchioness, as the water -rose higher, gave vent to low cries of fear resembling the hiss of a -serpent; then she broke out into ringing bursts of laughter, and drew -closer and closer to me. Finally, she stopped, and turning she looked -straight into my eyes. I felt then that moment was a solemn one. I -thought a hidden precipice was concealed at my feet, my heart throbbed as -if it would burst, and my head seemed to be on fire. - -"Come now, teach me to float on my back, Robert. Legs straight and -extended, arms close to the body, that's the way, is it not?" - -"Yes, my dear cousin, and move your hands gently under you." - -"Very good; here goes, then. One, two, three-off! Oh, what a little -goose I am, I'm afraid! Oh cousin, support me, just a little bit." - -That was the moment when I ought to have said to her: "No, Madame, I am -not the man to support coquettes, and I will not." But I did not dare -say that; my tongue remained silent, and I passed my arm round the -Marchioness's waist, in order to support her more easily. - -Alas! I had made a mistake; perhaps an irreparable one. - -In that supreme moment it was but too true that I adored her seductive -charms. Let me cut it short. When I held her thus it seemed to me that -all the blood in my body rushed back to my heart--a deadly thrill ran -through every limb--from shame and indignation, no doubt; my vision -became obscure; it seemed as if my soul was leaving my body, and I fell -forward fainting, and dragged her down to the bottom of the water in a -mortal clutch. - -I heard a loud cry. I felt her arms interlace my neck, her clenched -fingers sink deep into my flesh, and all was over. I had lost -consciousness. - -When I came to myself I was lying on the grass. Julie was chafing my -hands, and the Marchioness, in her bathing-dress, which was streaming -with water, was holding a vinaigrette to my nose. She looked at me -severely, although in her glance there was a shade of pleased -satisfaction, the import of which escaped me. - -"Baby! you great baby!" said she. - -Now that you know all the facts, my pious friend, bestow on me the favor -of your counsel, and thank heaven that you live remote from scenes like -these. - - With heart and soul, - Your sincere friend, - ROBERT DE K-----DEC------. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -MADAME DE K. - -It is possible that you know Madame de K.; if this be so, I congratulate -you, for she is a very remarkable person. Her face is pretty, but they -do not say of her, "Ah, what a pretty woman!" They say: "Madame de K.? -Ah! to be sure, a fine woman!" Do you perceive the difference? it is -easy to grasp it. That which charms in her is less what one sees than -what one guesses at. Ah! to be sure, a fine woman! That is what is said -after dinner when we have dined at her house, and when her husband, who -unfortunately is in bad health and does not smoke, has gone to fetch -cigars from his desk. It is said in a low tone, as though in confidence; -but from this affected reserve, it is easy to read conviction on the part -of each of the guests. The ladies in the drawing room do not suspect the -charming freedom which characterizes the gossip of the gentlemen when -they have gone into the smoking-room to puff their cigars over a cup of -coffee. - -"Yes, yes, she is a very fine woman." - -"Ah! the deuce, expansive beauty, opulent." - -"But poor De K. makes me feel anxious; he does not seem to get any -better. Does it not alarm you, Doctor?" - -Every one smiles 'sub rosa' at the idea that poor De K., who has gone to -fetch cigars, pines away visibly, while his wife is so well. - -"He is foolish; he works too hard, as I have told him. His position at -the ministry--thanks, I never take sugar." - -"But, really, it is serious, for after all he is not strong," ventures a -guest, gravely, biting his lips meanwhile to keep from laughing. - -"I think even that within the last year her beauty has developed," says a -little gentleman, stirring his coffee. - -"De K.'s beauty? I never could see it." - -"I don't say that." - -"Excuse me, you did; is it not so, Doctor?" - -"Forsooth!"--"How now! Come, let us make the distinction."--"Ha, ha, -ha!" And there is a burst of that hearty laughter which men affect to -assist digestion. The ice is broken, they draw closer to each other and -continue in low tones: - -"She has a fine neck! for when she turned just now it looked as if it -had been sculptured." - -"Her neck, her neck! but what of her hands, her arms and her shoulders! -Did you see her at Leon's ball a fortnight ago? A queen, my dear fellow, -a Roman empress. Neck, shoulders, arms--" - -"And all the rest," hazards some one, looking down into his cup. All -laugh heartily, and the good De K. comes in with a box of cigars which -look exceptional. - -"Here you are, my friends," he says, coughing slightly, "but let me -recommend you to smoke carefully." - -I have often dined with my friend De K., and I have always, or almost -always, heard a conversation similar to the preceding. But I must avow -that the evening on which I heard the impertinent remark of this -gentleman I was particularly shocked; first, because De K. is my friend, -and in the second place because I can not endure people who speak of that -of which they know nothing. I make bold to say that I alone in Paris -understand this matter to the bottom. Yes, yes, I alone; and the reason -is not far to seek. Paul and his brother are in England; Ernest is a -consul in America; as for Leon, he is at Hycres in his little -subprefecture. You see, therefore, that in truth I am the only one in -Paris who can-- - -"But hold, Monsieur Z., you must be joking. Explain yourself; come to -the point. Do you mean to say that Madame de K.--oh! dear me! but that -is most 'inconvenant'!" - -Nothing, nothing! I am foolish. Let us suppose that I had not spoken, -ladies; let us speak of something else. How could the idea have got into -my head of saying anything about "all the rest"? Let us talk of -something else. - -It was a real spring morning, the rain fell in torrents and the north -wind blew furiously, when the damsel, more dead than alive---- - -The fact is, I feel I can not get out of it. It will be better to tell -all. Only swear to me to be discreet. On your word of honor? Well, -then, here goes. - -I am, I repeat, the only man in Paris who can speak from knowledge of -"all the rest" in regard to Madame de K. - -Some years ago--but do not let us anticipate--I say, some years ago I had -an intimate friend at whose house we met many evenings. In summer the -windows were left open, and we used to sit in armchairs and chat of -affairs by the light of our cigars. Now, one evening, when we were -talking of fishing--all these details are still fresh in my memory--we -heard the sound of a powerful harpsichord, and soon followed the harsh -notes of a voice more vigorous than harmonious, I must admit. - -"Aha! she has altered her hours," said Paul, regarding one of the windows -of the house opposite. - -"Who has changed her hours, my dear fellow?" - -"My neighbor. A robust voice, don't you think so? Usually she practises -in the morning, and I like that better, for it is the time I go out for a -walk." - -Instinctively I glanced toward the lighted window, and through the drawn -curtains I distinctly perceived a woman, dressed in white, with her hair -loose, and swaying before her instrument like a person conscious that she -was alone and responding to her own inspirations. - -"My Fernand, go, seek glo-o-o-ry," she was singing at the top of her -voice. The singing appeared to me mediocre, but the songstress in her -peignoir interested me much. - -"Gentlemen," said I, "it appears to me there is behind that frail -tissue"--I alluded to the curtain--"a very handsome woman. Put out your -cigars, if you please; their light might betray our presence and -embarrass the fair singer." - -The cigars were at once dropped--the window was even almost completely -closed for greater security--and we began to watch. - -This was not, I know, quite discreet, but, as the devil willed it, we -were young bachelors, all five of us, and then, after all, dear reader, -would not you have done the same? - -When the song was concluded, the singer rose. It was very hot and her -garment must have been very thin, for the light, which was at the farther -end of the room, shone through the fabric. It was one of those long -robes which fall to the feet, and which custom has reserved for night -wear. The upper part is often trimmed with lace, the sleeves are wide, -the folds are long and flowing, and usually give forth a perfume of -ambergris or violet. But perhaps you know this garment as well as I. -The fair one drew near the looking-glass, and it seemed to us that she -was contemplating her face; then she raised her hands in the air, and, in -the graceful movement she made, the sleeve, which was unbuttoned and very -loose, slipped from her beautifully rounded arm, the outline of which we -distinctly perceived. - -"The devil!" said Paul, in a stifled voice, but he could say no more. - -The songstress then gathered up her hair, which hung very low, in her two -hands and twisted it in the air, just as the washerwomen do. Her head, -which we saw in profile, inclined a little forward, and her shoulders, -which the movement of her arms threw back, presented a more prominent and -clear outline. - -"Marble, Parian marble!" muttered Paul. "O Cypris! Cytherea! Paphia!" - -"Be quiet, you donkey!" - -It really seemed as if the flame of the candle understood our -appreciation and ministered specially to our admiration. Placed behind -the fair songstress, it illuminated her so perfectly that the garment -with the long folds resembled those thin vapors which veil the horizon -without hiding it, and in a word, the most inquisitive imagination, -disarmed by so much courtesy, was ready to exclaim, "That is enough!" - -Soon the fair one moved forward toward her bed, sat down in a very low -armchair, in which she stretched herself out at her ease, and remained -for some moments, with her hands clasped over her head and her limbs -extended. just then midnight struck; we saw her take her right leg -slowly and cross it over her left, when we perceived that she had not yet -removed her shoes and stockings. - -But what is the use of asking any more about it? These recollections -trouble me, and, although they have fixed themselves in my mind-very -firmly indeed, I can assure you--I feel an embarrassment mingled with -modesty at relating all to you at length. Besides, at the moment she -turned down the clothes, and prepared, to get into bed, the light went -out. - -On the morrow, about ten o'clock in the evening, we all five again found -ourselves at Paul's, four of us with opera-glasses in our pockets. As on -the previous evening, the fair songstress sat down at her piano, then -proceeded slowly to make her night toilette. There was the same grace, -the same charm, but when we came to the fatal moment at which on the -preceding night the candle had gone out, a faint thrill ran through us -all. To tell the truth, for my part, I was nervous. Heaven, very -fortunately, was now on our side; the candle continued to burn. The -young woman then, with her charming hand, the plump outlines of which we -could easily distinguish, smoothed the pillow, patted it, arranged it -with a thousand caressing precautions in which the thought was suggested, -"With what happiness shall I now go and bury my head in it!" - -Then she smoothed down the little wrinkles in the bed, the contact with -which might have irritated her, and, raising herself on her right arm, -like a horseman, about to get into the saddle, we saw her left knee, -smooth and shining as marble, slowly bury itself. We seemed to hear a -kind of creaking, but this creaking sounded joyful. The sight was brief, -too brief, alas! and it was in a species of delightful confusion that we -perceived a well-rounded limb, dazzlingly white, struggling in the silk -of the quilt. At length everything became quiet again, and it was as -much as we could do to make out a smooth, rose-tinted little foot which, -not being sleepy, still lingered outside and fidgeted with the silken -covering. - -Delightful souvenir of my lively youth! My pen splutters, my paper seems -to blush to the color of that used by the orange-sellers. I believe I -have said too much. - -I learned some time afterward that my friend De K. was about to be -married, and, singularly enough, was going to wed this beautiful creature -with whom I was so well acquainted. - -"A charming woman!" I exclaimed one day. - -"You know her, then?" said someone. - -"I? No, not the least in the world." - -"But?" - -"Yes-no, let me see; I have seen her once at high mass." - -"She is not very pretty," some one remarked to me. - -"No, not her face," I rejoined, and added to myself, "No, not her face, -but all the rest!" - -It is none the less true that for some time past this secret has been -oppressing me, and, though I decided to-day to reveal it to you, it was -because it seems to me that to do so would quiet my conscience. - -But, for Heaven's sake, let me entreat you, do not noise abroad the -affair! - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -SOUVENIRS OF LENT - -The faithful are flocking up the steps of the temple; spring toilettes -already glitter in the sun; trains sweep the dust with their long flowing -folds; feathers and ribbons flutter; the bell chimes solemnly, while -carriages keep arriving at a trot, depositing upon the pavement all that -is most pious and most noble in the Faubourg, then draw up in line at the -farther end of the square. - -Be quick, elbow your way through the crowd if you want a good place; the -Abbe Gelon preaches to-day on abstinence, and when the Abbe Gelon -preaches it is as if Patti were singing. - -Enter Madame, pushes the triple door, which recloses heavily, brushes -with rapid fingers the holywater sprinkler which that pious old man holds -out, and carefully makes a graceful little sign of the cross so as not to -spot her ribbons. - -Do you hear these discreet and aristocratic whisperings? - -"Good morning, my dear." - -"Good morning, dear. It is always on abstinence that he preaches, is it -not? Have you a seat?" - -"Yes, yes, come with me. You have got on your famous bonnet, I see?" - -"Yes; do you like it? It is a little showy, is it not? What a multitude -of people! Where is your husband?" - -"Showy! Oh, no, it is splendid. My husband is in the churchwarden's -pew; he left before me; he is becoming a fanatic--he speaks of lunching -on radishes and lentils." - -"That ought to be very consoling to you." - -"Don't mention it. Come with me. See; there are Ernestine and Louise. -Poor Louise's nose, always the same; who would believe that she drinks -nothing stronger than water?" - -The ladies push their way among the chairs, some of which they upset with -the greatest unconcern. - -Arrived at their places they sink down on their knees, and, moist-eyed -and full of feeling, cast a look of veiled adoration toward the high -altar, then hide their faces with their gloved hands. - -For a very few minutes they gracefully deprecate themselves in the eyes -of the Lord, then, taking their seats, coquettishly arrange the immense -bows of their bonnet-strings, scan the assembly through a gold eyeglass, -with the little finger turning up; finally, while smoothing down the -satin folds of a dress difficult to keep in place, they scatter, right -and left, charming little recognitions and delightful little smiles. - -"Are you comfortable, dear?" - -"Quite, thanks. Do you see in front there, between the two tapers, -Louise and Madame de C-------? Is it allowable in any one to come to -church got up like that?" - -"Oh! I have never believed much in the piety of Madame de C-------. -You know her history--the story of the screen? I will tell it you later. -Ah! there is the verger." - -The verger shows his bald head in the pulpit of truth. He arranges the -seat, adjusts the kneeling-stool, then withdraws and allows the Abbe -Gelon, who is somewhat pale from Lenten fasting, but striking, as he -always is, in dignity, elegance, and unction. A momentary flutter passes -through the congregation, then they settle down comfortably. The noise -dies away, and all eyes are eagerly looking toward the face of the -preacher. With his eyes turned to heaven, the latter stands upright and -motionless; a light from above may be divined in his inspired look; -his beautiful, white hands, encircled at the wrists by fine lace, are -carelessly placed on the red velvet cushion of the pulpit. He waits a -few moments, coughs twice, unfolds his handkerchief, deposits his square -hat in a corner, and, bending forward, lets fall from his lips in those -sweet slow, persuasive tones, by which he is known, the first words of -his sermon, "Ladies!" - -With this single word he has already won all hearts. Slowly he casts -over his audience a mellow glance, which penetrates and attracts; then, -having uttered a few Latin words which he has the tact to translate -quickly into French, he continues: - -"What is it to abstain? Why should we abstain? How should we abstain? -Those are the three points, ladies, I shall proceed to discuss." - -He blows his nose, coughs; a holy thrill stirs every heart. How will he -treat this magnificent subject? Let us listen. - -Is it not true, Madame, that your heart is piously stirred, and that at -this moment you feel an actual thirst for abstinence and mortification? - -The holy precincts are bathed in a soft obscurity, similar to that of -your boudoir, and inducing revery. - -I know not how much of the ineffable and of the vaguely exhilarating -penetrates your being. But the voice of this handsome and venerated old -man has, amidst the deep silence, something deliciously heavenly about -it. Mysterious echoes repeat from the far end of the temple each of his -words, and in the dim light of the sanctuary the golden candlesticks -glitter like precious stones. The old stained-glass windows with their -symbolic figures become suddenly illuminated, a flood of light and -sunshine spreads through the church like a sheet of fire. Are the -heavens opening? Is the Spirit from on high descending among us? - -While lost in pious revery, which soothes and lulls, one gazes with -ecstasy on the fanciful details of the sculptures which vanish in the -groined roof above, and on the quaint pipes of the organ with its hundred -voices. The beliefs of childhood piously inculcated in your heart -suddenly reawaken; a vague perfume of incense again penetrates the air. -The stone pillars shoot up to infinite heights, and from these celestial -arches depends the golden lamp which sways to and fro in space, diffusing -its eternal light. Truly, God is great. - -By degrees the sweet tones of the preacher enrapture one more and more, -and the sense of his words are lost; and, listening to the divine murmur -of that saint-like voice, your eyes, like those of a child falling asleep -in the bosom of the Creator, close. - -You do not go to sleep, but your head inclines forward, the ethereal -light surrounds you, and your soul, delighting in the uncertain, plunges -into celestial space, and loses itself in infinity. - -What a sweet and holily intoxicating sensation, a delicious ecstasy! -Nevertheless, there are those who smile at this religious raise-en-scene, -these pomps and splendors, this celestial music, which soothes the nerves -and thrills the brain! Pity on these scoffers who do not comprehend the -ineffable delight of being able to open at will the gates of Paradise to -themselves, and to become, at odd moments, one with the angels! But what -purpose does it serve to speak of the faithless and of their harmless, -smiles? As the Abbe Gelon has in his inimitable manner observed, "The -heart is a fortress, incessantly assailed by the spirit of darkness." - -The idea of a constant struggle with this powerful being has something -about it that adds tenfold to our strength and flatters our vanity. -What, alone in your fortress, Madame; alone with the spirit of darkness. - -But hush! the Abbe Gelon is finishing in a quivering and fatigued voice. -His right hand traces in the air the sign of peace. Then he wipes his -humid forehead, his eyes sparkle with divine light, he descends the -narrow stairs, and we hear on the pavement the regular taps of the rod of -the verger, who is reconducting him to the vestry. - -"Was he not splendid, dear?" - -"Excellent! when he said, 'That my eyes might close forever, if......' -you remember?" - -"Superb! and further on: 'Yes, ladies, you are coquettes.' He told us -some hard truths; he speaks admirably." - -"Admirably! He is divine!" - - -It is four o'clock, the church is plunged in shadow and silence. The -confused rumble of the vehicles without hardly penetrates this dwelling -of prayer, and the creak of one's boots, echoing in the distance, is the -only human noise which ruffles the deep calm. - -However, in proportion as we advance, we perceive in the chapels groups -of the faithful, kneeling, motionless and silent. In viewing the despair -that their attitude appears to express, we are overwhelmed with sadness -and uneasiness. Is it an appeal for the damned? - -The aspects of one of these chapels is peculiar. A hundred or a hundred -and fifty ladies, almost buried in silk and velvet, are crowded devoutly -about the confessional. A sweet scent of violets and vervain permeates -the vicinity, and one halts, in spite of one's self, in the presence of -this large display of elegance. - -From each of the two cells adjoining the confessional shoot out the folds -of a rebellious skirt, for the penitent, held fast at the waist, has been -able to get only half of her form into the narrow space. However, her -head can be distinguished moving in the shadow, and we can guess from the -contrite movements of her white feather that her forehead is bowed by -reason of remonstrance and repentance. - -Hardly has she concluded her little story when a dozen of her neighbors -rush forward to replace her. This eagerness is quite explicable, for -this chapel is the one in which the Abbe Gelon hears confessions, and I -need not tell you that when the Abbe Gelon confesses it is the same as if -he were preaching--there is a crowd. - -The good Abbe confesses all these ladies, and, with angelic devotion, -remains shut up for hours in this dark, narrow, suffocating box, through -the grating of which two penitents are continually whispering their sins. - -The dear Abbe! the most likable thing about him is that he is not long -over the business. He knows how to get rid of useless details; he -perceives, with subtle instinct and a sureness of vision that spares you -a thousand embarrassments, the condition of a soul, so that, besides -being a man of intelligence and of the world, he renders the repetition -of those little weaknesses, of which he has whispered the one half to -you, almost agreeable. - -In coming to him with one's little burden of guilt, one feels somewhat -embarrassed, but while one is hesitating about telling him all, he, with -a discreet and skilful hand, disencumbers one of it rapidly, examines the -contents, smiles or consoles, and the confession is made without one -having uttered a single word; so that after all is over the penitent -exclaims, prostrating one's self before God, "But, Lord, I was pure, pure -as the lily, and yet how uneasy I was!" - -Even when he assumes the sacerdotal habit and ceases to be a man, and -speaks in the name of God, the tones of his voice, the refinement of his -look, reveal innate distinction and that spotless courtesy which can not -harm even a minister of God, and which one must cultivate on this side of -the Rue du Bac. - -If God wills that there must be a Faubourg St.-Germain in the world--and -it can not be denied that He does--is it not proper that He should give -us a minister who speaks our language and understands our weaknesses? -Nothing is more obvious, and I really do not comprehend some of these -ladies who talk to me about the Abbe Brice. Not that I wish to speak ill -of the good Abbe, for this is neither the time nor the place for it; -he is a holy man, but his sanctity is a little bourgeois and needs -polish. - -With him one has to dot one's i's; he is dull in perception, or does not -perceive at all. - -Acknowledge a peccadillo, and his brows knit, he must know the hour, the -moment, the antecedents; he examines, he probes, he weighs, and finishes -his thousand questions by being indiscreet and almost improper. Is there -not, even in the holy mission of the priest, a way of being politely -severe, and of acting the gentleman to people well born? - -The Abbe Brice--and there is no reason why I should conceal it--smells of -the stable, which must be prejudicial to him. He is slightly Republican, -too, wears clumsy boots, has awful nails, and when he gets new gloves, -twice a year, his fingers stand out stiff and separate. - -I do not, I would have you remark, deny his admirable virtues; but say -what you like, you will never get a woman of fashion to confide her -"little affairs" to a farmer's son, and address him as "Father." Matters -must not be carried the length of absurdity; besides, this Abbe Brice -always smells detestably of snuff. - -He confesses all sorts of people, and you will agree that it is not -pleasant to have one's maid or one's cook for one's visa-vis at the -confessional. - -There is not a woman who understands Christian humility better than -yourself, dear Madame; but all the same you are not accustomed to travel -in an omnibus. You may be told that in heaven you will only be too happy -to call your coachman "Brother," and to say to Sarah Jane, "Sister," but -these worthy folk shall have first passed through purgatory, and fire -purifies everything. Again, what is there to assure us that Sarah Jane -will go to heaven, since you yourself, dear Madame, are not so sure of -entering there? - -It is hence quite well understood why the Abbe Gelon's chapel is crowded. -If a little whispering goes on, it is because they have been waiting -three long hours, and because everybody knows one another. - -All the ladies, you may be sure, are there. - -"Make a little room for me, dear," whispers a newcomer, edging her way -through trains, kneeling-stools, and chairs. - -"Ah! is that you, dear? Come here. Clementine and Madame de B. are -there in the corner at the cannon's mouth. You will have to wait two -good hours." - -"If Madame de B. is there, it does not surprise me. She is -inexhaustible, and there is no other woman who is so long in telling a -thing. Have all these people not had their turn yet? Ah! there is -Ernestine." (She waves her hand to her quietly.) "That child is an -angel. She acknowledged to me the other day that her conscience troubled -her because, on reading the 'Passion,' she could not make up her mind to -kiss the mat." - -"Ah! charming; but, tell me, do you kiss the mat yourself?" - -"I! no, never in my life; it is so nasty, dear." - -"You confess to the omission, at least?" - -"Oh! I confess all those little trifles in a lump. I say, 'Father, I -have erred out of human self-respect.' I give the total at once." - -"That is just what I do, and that dear Abbe Gelon discharges the bill." - -"Seriously, time would fail him if he acted otherwise. But it seems to -me that we are whispering a little too much, dear; let me think over my -little bill." - -Madame leans upon her praying-stool. Gracefully she removes, without -taking her eyes off the altar, the glove from her right hand, and with -her thumb turns the ring of Ste-Genevieve that serves her as a rosary, -moving her lips the while. Then, with downcast eyes and set lips, she -loosens the fleur-de-lys-engraved clasp of her Book of Hours, and seeks -out the prayers appropriate to her condition. - -She reads with fervency: "'My God, crushed beneath the burden of my sins -I cast myself at thy feet'--how annoying that it should be so cold to the -feet. With my sore throat, I am sure to have influenza,--'that I cast -myself at thy feet'--tell me, dear, do you know if the chapel-keeper has -a footwarmer? Nothing is worse than cold feet, and that Madame de P. -sticks there for hours. I am sure she confesses her friends' sins along -with her own. It is intolerable; I no longer have any feeling in my -right foot; I would pay that woman for her foot-warmer--'I bow my head in -the dust under the weight of repentance, and of........'" - -"Ah! Madame de P. has finished; she is as red as the comb of a turkey- -cock." - -Four ladies rush forward with pious ardor to take her place. - -"Ah! Madame, do not push so, I beg of you." - -"But I was here before you, Madame." - -"I beg a thousand pardons, Madame." - -"You surely have a very strange idea of the respect which is due to this -hallowed spot." - -"Hush, hush! Profit by the opportunity, Madame; slip through and take -the vacant place. (Whispering.) Do not forget the big one last night, -and the two little ones of this morning." - - - - -CHAPTER V - -MADAME AND HER FRIEND CHAT BY THE FIRESIDE - -Madam--(moving her slender fingers)--It is ruched, ruched, ruched, loves -of ruches, edged all around with blond. - -Her Friend--That is good style, dear. - -Madame--Yes, I think it will be the style, and over this snowlike foam -fall the skirts of blue silk like the bodice; but a lovely blue, -something like--a little less pronounced than skyblue, you know, like-- -my husband calls it a subdued blue. - -Her Friend--Splendid. He is very happy in his choice of terms. - -Madame--Is he not? One understands at once--a subdued blue. -It describes it exactly. - -Her Friend--But apropos of this, you know that Ernestine has not forgiven -him his pleasantry of the other evening. - -Madame--How, of my husband? What pleasantry? The other evening when the -Abbe Gelon and the Abbe Brice were there? - -Her Friend--And his son, who was there also. - -Madame--What! the Abbe's son? (Both break into laughter.) - -Her Friend--But--ha! ha! ha!--what are you saying, ha! ha! you little -goose? - -Madame--I said the Abbe Gelon and the Abbe Brice, and you add, 'And his -son.' It is your fault, dear. He must be a choir-boy, that cherub. -(More laughter.) - -Her Friend--(placing her hand over hey mouth)--Be quiet, be quiet; it is -too bad; and in Lent, too! - -Madame--Well, but of whose son are you speaking? - -Her Friend--Of Ernestine's son, don't you know, Albert, a picture of -innocence. He heard your husband's pleasantry, and his mother was vexed. - -Madame--My dear, I really don't know to what you refer. Please tell me -all about it. - -Hey Friend--Well, on entering the drawing-room, and perceiving the -candelabra lit up, and the two Abbe's standing at that moment in the -middle of the room, your husband appeared as if looking for something, -and when Ernestine asked him what it was, he said aloud: "I am looking -for the holy-water; please, dear neighbor, excuse me for coming in the -middle of the service." - -Madame--Is it possible? (Laughing.) The fact is, he can not get out of -it; he has met the two Abbes, twice running, at Ernestine's. Her -drawing-room is a perfect sacristy. - -Hey Friend (dryly)--A sacristy! How regardless you are getting in your -language since your marriage, dear. - -Madame--Not more than before. I never cared to meet priests elsewhere -than at church. - -Her Friend--Come, you are frivolous, and if I did not know you better-- -but do you not like to meet the Abbe Gelon? - -Madame--Ah! the Abbe Gelon, that is quite different. He is charming. - -Her Friend--(briskly)--His manners are so distingue. - -Madame--And respectful. His white hair is such an admirable frame for -his pale face, which is so full of unction. - -Her Friend--Oh! yes, he has unction, and his looks--those sweetly -softened looks! The other day, when he was speaking on the mediation of -Christ, he was divine. At one moment he wiped away a tear; he was no -longer master of his emotions; but he grew calm almost immediately--his -power of self-command is marvellous; then he went on quietly, but the -emotion in turn had overpowered us. It was electrifying. The Countess -de S., who was near me, was bubbling like a spring, under her yellow -bonnet. - -Madame--Ah! yes, I have seen that yellow bonnet. What a sight that -Madame de S. is! - -Her Friend--The truth is, she is always dressed like an applewoman. A -bishopric has been offered these messieurs, I know, on good authority; my -husband had it from De l'Euvre. Well-- - -Madame--(interrupting her)--A bishopric offered to Madame de S. It was -wrong to do so. - -Her Friend--You make fun of everything, my dear; there are, however, some -subjects which should be revered. I tell you that the mitre and the ring -have been offered to the Abby Gelon. Well, he refused them. God knows, -however, that the pastoral ring would well become his hand. - -Madame--Oh! yes, he has a lovely hand. - -Her Friend--He has a white, slender, and aristocratic hand. Perhaps it -is a wrong for us to dwell on these worldly details, but after all his -hand is really beautiful. Do you know (enthusiastically) I find that the -Abbe Gelon compels love of religion? Were you ever present at his -lectures? - -Madame--I was at the first one. I would have gone again on Thursday, but -Madame Savain came to try on my bodice and I had a protracted discussion -with her about the slant of the skirts. - -Her Friend--Ah! the skirts are cut slantingly. - -Madame--Yes, yes, with little cross-bars, which is an idea of my own--I -have not seen it anywhere else; I think it will not look badly. - -Her Friend--Madame Savain told me that you had suppressed the shoulders -of the corsage. - -Madame--Ah! the gossip! Yes, I will have nothing on the shoulders but a -ribbon, a trifle, just enough to fasten a jewel to--I was afraid that the -corsage would look a little bare. Madame Savain had laid on, at -intervals, some ridiculous frippery. I wanted to try something else--my -plan of crossbars, there and then--and I missed the dear Abbe Gelon's -lecture. He was charming, it seems. - -Her Friend--Oh! charming. He spoke against bad books; there was a large -crowd. He demolished all the horrible opinions of Monsieur Renan. What -a monster that man is! - -Madame--You have read his book? - -Her Friend--Heaven forbid! Don't you know it is impossible for one to -find anything more--well, it must be very bad 'Messieurs de l'OEuvre' for -the Abbe Gelon, in speaking to one of these friends of my husband, -uttered the word---- - -Madame--Well, what word? - -Her Friend--I dare not tell you, for, really, if it is true it would make -one shudder. He said that it was (whispering in her ear) the Antichrist! -It makes one feel aghast, does it not! They sell his photograph; he has -a satanic look. (Looking at the clock.) Half-past two--I must run away; -I have given no orders about dinner. These three fast-days in the week -are to me martyrdom. One must have a little variety; my husband is very -fastidious. If we did not have water-fowl I should lose my head. How do -you get on, dear? - -Madame--Oh! with me it is very simple, provided I do not make my husband -leaner; he eats anything. You know, Augustus is not very much-- - -Her Friend--Not very much! I think that he is much too spare; for, after -all, if we do not in this life impose some privations upon ourselves--no, -that would be too easy. I hope, indeed, that you have a dispensation? - -Madame--Oh! yes, I am safe as to that. - -Her Friend--I have one, of course, for butter and eggs, as vice- -chancellor of the Association. The Abbe Gelon begged me to accept a -complete dispensation on account of my headaches, but I refused. Yes! -I refused outright. If one makes a compromise with one's principles-- -but then there are people who have no principles. - -Madame--If you mean that to apply to my husband, you are wrong. Augustus -is not a heathen--he has excellent principles. - -Her Friend--Excellent principles! You make my blood boil. But there, -I must go. Well, it is understood, I count upon you for Tuesday; he will -preach upon authority, a magnificent subject, and we may expect -allusions--Ah! I forgot to tell you; I am collecting and I expect your -mite, dear. I take as low a sum as a denier (the twelfth of a penny). -I have an idea of collecting with my little girl on my praying-stool. -Madame de K. collected on Sunday at St. Thomas's and her baby held the -alms-bag. The little Jesus had an immense success--immense! - -Madame--I must go now. How will you dress? - -Her Friend--Oh! for the present, quite simply and in black; you -understand. - -Madame--Besides, black becomes you so well. - -Her Friend--Yes, everything is for the best; black does not suit me at -all ill. Tuesday, then. But my dear, try to bring your husband, he -likes music so much. - -Madame--Well, I can not promise that. - -Her Fiend--Ah! mon Dieu! they are all like that, these men; they are -strong-minded, and when grace touches them, they look back on their past -life with horror. When my husband speaks of his youth, the tears come -into his eyes. I must tell you; that he has not always been as he is -now; he was a gay boy in his youth, poor fellow. I do not detest a man -because he knows life a little, do you? But I am gossiping and time -passes; I have a call to make yet on Madame W. I do not know whether she -has found her juvenile lead. - -Madame--What for, in Heaven's name? - -Her Friend--For her evening party. There are to be private theatricals -at her house, but for a pious object, you may be sure, during Lent; it is -so as to have a collection on behalf of the Association. I must fly. -Good-by, dear. - -Madame--Till Tuesday, dear; in full uniform? - -Her Friend--(smiling)--In full uniform. Kind regards to your reprobate. -I like him very much all the same. Good-by. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -A DREAM - -Sleeplessness is almost always to be traced to indigestion. My friend, -Dr. Jacques, is there and he will tell you so. - -Now, on that particular evening, it was last Friday, I had committed the -mistake of eating brill, a fish that positively disagrees with me. - -God grant that the account of the singular dream which ensued may inspire -you with some prudent reflections. - -Be that as it may, this was my dream, in all its extravagance. - -I had, in this dream, the honor to belong, as senior curate, to one of -the most frequented parish churches in Paris. What could be more -ridiculous! I was, moreover, respectably stout, possessed a head decked -with silver locks, well-shaped hands, an aquiline nose, great unction, -the friendship of the lady worshippers, and, I venture to add, the esteem -of the rector. - -While I was reciting the thanksgiving after service, and at the same time -unfastening the cords of my alb, the rector came up to me (I see him even -now) blowing his nose. - -"My dear friend," said he, "you hear confessions this evening, do you -not?" - -"Most certainly. Are you well this morning? I had a good congregation -at mass." - -Having said this, I finished my thanksgiving, put my alb into the -wardrobe, and, offering a pinch to the rector, added cheerily: - -"This is not breaking the fast, is it?" - -"Ha! ha! no, no, no! Besides, it wants five minutes to twelve and the -clock is slow." - -We took a pinch together and walked off arm in arm by the little side -door, for night sacraments, chatting in a friendly way. - -Suddenly I found myself transported into my confessional. The chapel was -full of ladies who all bowed at my approach. I entered my narrow box, -the key of which I had. I arranged on the seat the air-cushion which is -indispensable to me on the evenings preceding great church festivals, the -sittings at that season being always prolonged. I slipped the white -surplice which was hanging from a peg over my cassock, and, after -meditating for a moment, opened the little shutter that puts me in -communication with the penitents. - -I will not undertake to describe to you one by one the different people -who came and knelt before me. I will not tell you, for instance, how one -of them, a lady in black, with a straight nose, thin lips, and sallow -complexion, after reciting her Confiteor in Latin, touched me infinitely -by the absolute confidence she placed in me, though I was not of her sex. -In five minutes she found the opportunity to speak to me of her sister- -in-law, her brother, an uncle who was on the point of death whose heiress -she was, her nephews, and her servants; and I could perceive, despite the -tender benevolence that appeared in all her words, that she was the -victim of all these people. She ended by informing me she had a -marriageable daughter, and that her stomach was an obstacle to her -fasting. - -I can still see a throng of other penitents, but it would take too long -to tell you about them, and we will confine ourselves, with your -permission, to the last two, who, besides, impressed upon my memory -themselves particularly. - -A highly adorned little lady rushed into the confessional; she was brisk, -rosy, fresh. Despite her expression of deep thoughtfulness, she spoke -very quickly in a musical voice, and rattled through her Confiteor, -regardless of the sense. - -"Father," she said, "I have one thing that is troubling me." - -"Speak, my child; you know that a confessor is a father." - -"Well, father--but I really dare not." - -There are many of these timid little hearts that require to be -encouraged. I said, "Go on, my child, go on." - -"My husband," she murmured confusedly, "will not abstain during Lent. -Ought I to compel him, father?" - -"Yes, by persuasion." - -"But he says that he will go and dine at the restaurant if I do not let -him have any meat. Oh! I suffer terribly from that. Am I not assuming -the responsibility of all that meat, father?" - -This young wife really interested me; she had in the midst of one cheek, -toward the corner of the mouth, a small hollow, a kind of little dimple, -charming in the profane sense of the word, and giving a special -expression to her face. Her tiny white teeth glittered like pearls when -she opened her mouth to relate her pious inquietudes; she shed around, -besides, a perfume almost as sweet as that of our altars, although of a -different kind, and I breathed this perfume with an uneasiness full of -scruples, which for all that inclined me to indulgence. I was so close -to her that none of the details of her face escaped me; I could -distinguish, almost in spite of myself, even a little quiver of her left -eyebrow, tickled every now and again by a stray tress of her fair hair. - -"Your situation," I said, "is a delicate one; on one hand, your domestic -happiness, and on the other your duty as a Christian." She gave a sigh -from her very heart. "Well, my dear child, my age warrants my speaking -to you like that, does it not?" - -"Oh, yes, father." - -"Well, my dear child"--I fancy I noticed at that moment that she had at -the outer corner of her eyes a kind of dark mark something like an arrow --head--"try, my dear child, to convince your husband, who in his heart--" -In addition, her lashes, very long and somewhat curled, were underlined, -I might almost say, by a dark streak expanding and shading off delicately -toward the middle of the eye. This physical peculiarity did not seem to -me natural, but an effect of premeditated coquetry. - -Strange fact, the verification of such weakness in this candid heart only -increased my compassion. I continued in a gentle tone: - -"Strive to bring your husband to God. Abstinence is not only a religious -observance, it is also a salutary custom. 'Non solum lex Dei, sed -etiam'. Have you done everything to bring back your husband?" - -"Yes, father, everything." - -"Be precise, my child; I must know all." - -"Well, father, I have tried sweetness and tenderness." - -I thought to myself that this husband must be a wretch. - -"I have implored him for the sake of our child," continued the little -angel, "not to risk his salvation and my own. Once or twice I even told -him that the spinach was dressed with gravy when it was not. Was I -wrong, father?" - -"There are pious falsehoods which the Church excuses, for in such cases -it only takes into consideration the intention and the greater glory of -God. I can not, therefore, say that you have done wrong. You have not, -have you, been guilty toward your husband of any of those excusable acts -of violence which may escape a Christian soul when it is struggling -against error? For it really is not natural that an honest man should -refuse to follow the prescription of the Church. Make a few concessions -at first." - -"I have, father, and perhaps too many," she said, contritely. - -"What do you mean?" - -"Hoping to bring him back to God, I accorded him favors which I ought to -have refused him. I may be wrong, but it seems to me that I ought to -have refused him." - -"Do not be alarmed, my dear child, everything depends upon degrees, and -it is necessary in these matters to make delicate distinctions." - -"That is what I say to myself, father, but my husband unites with his -kindness such a communicative gayety--he has such a graceful and natural -way of excusing his impiety--that I laugh in spite of myself when I ought -to weep. It seems to me that a cloud comes between myself and my duties, -and my scruples evaporate beneath the charm of his presence and his wit. -My husband has plenty of wit," she added, with a faint smile, in which -there was a tinge of pride. - -"Hum! hum!" (the blackness of this man's heart revolted me). "There is -no seductive shape that the tempter does not assume, my child. Wit in -itself is not to be condemned, although the Church shuns it as far as she -is concerned, looking upon it as a worldly ornament; but it may become -dangerous, it may be reckoned a veritable pest when it tends to weaken -faith. Faith, which is to the soul, I hardly need tell you, what the -bloom is to the peach, and--if I may so express myself, what the--dew is ---to the flower--hum, hum! Go on, my child." - -"But, father, when my husband has disturbed me for a moment, I soon -repent of it. He has hardly gone before I pray for him." - -"Good, very good." - -"I have sewn a blessed medal up in his overcoat." This was said more -boldly, though still with some timidity. - -"And have you noticed any result?" - -"In certain things he is better, yes, father, but as regards abstinence -he is still intractable," she said with embarrassment. - -"Do not be discouraged. We are in the holy period of Lent. Make use of -pious subterfuges, prepare him some admissible viands, but pleasant to -the taste." - -"Yes, father, I have thought of that. The day before yesterday I gave -him one of these salmon pasties that resemble ham." - -"Yes, yes, I know them. Well?" - -"Well, he ate the salmon, but he had a cutlet cooked afterward." - -"Deplorable!" I exclaimed, almost in spite of myself, so excessive did -the perversity of this man seem to me. "Patience, my child, offer up to -Heaven the sufferings which your husband's impiety causes you, and -remember that your efforts will be set down to you. You have nothing -more to tell me?" - -"No, father." - -"Collect yourself, then. I will give you absolution." - -The dear soul sighed as she joined her two little hands. - -Hardly had my penitent risen to withdraw when I abruptly closed my little -shutter and took a long pinch of snuff--snuff-takers know how much a -pinch soothes the mind--then having thanked God rapidly, I drew from the -pocket of my cassock my good old watch, and found that it was earlier -than I thought. The darkness of the chapel had deceived me, and my -stomach had shared my error. I was hungry. I banished these carnal -preoccupations from my mind, and after shaking my hands, on which some -grains of snuff had fallen, I slackened one of my braces that was -pressing a little on one shoulder, and opened my wicket. - -"Well, Madame, people should be more careful," said the penitent on my -left, addressing a lady of whom I could only see a bonnet-ribbon; "it is -excusable." - -My penitent's voice, which was very irritated, though restrained by -respect for the locality, softened as if by magic at the creaking of my -wicket. She knelt down, piously folded her two ungloved hands, plump, -perfumed, rosy, laden with rings--but let that pass. I seemed to -recognize the hands of the Countess de B., a chosen soul, whom I had the -honor to visit frequently, especially on Saturday, when there is always a -place laid for me at her table. - -She raised her little lace veil and I saw that I was not mistaken. It -was the Countess. She smiled at me as at a person with whom she was -acquainted, but with perfect propriety; she seemed to be saying, "Good- -day, my dear Abbe, I do not ask how your rheumatism is, because at this -moment you are invested with a sacred character, but I am interested in -it all the same." - -This little smile was irreproachable. I replied by a similar smile, and -I murmured in a very low tone, giving her, too, to understand by the -expression of my face that I was making a unique concession in her favor, -"Are you quite well, dear Madame?" - -"Thanks, father, I am quite well." Her voice had resumed an angelic -tone. "But I have just been in a passion." - -"And why? Perhaps you have taken for a passion what was really only a -passing moment of temper?" - -It does not do to alarm penitents. - -"Ah! not at all, it was really a passion, father. My dress had just -been torn from top to bottom; and really it is strange that one should be -exposed to such mishaps on approaching the tribunal of----" - -"Collect yourself, my dear Madame, collect yourself," and assuming a -serious look I bestowed my benediction upon her. - -The Countess sought to collect herself, but I saw very well that her -troubled spirit vainly strove to recover itself. By a singular -phenomenon I could see into her brain, and her thoughts appeared to me -one after the other. She was saying to herself, "Let me collect myself; -our Father, give me grace to collect myself," but the more effort she -made to restrain her imagination the more it became difficult to restrain -and slipped through her fingers. "I had made a serious examination of my -conscience, however," she added. "Not ten minutes ago as I was getting -out of my carriage I counted up three sins; there was one above all I -wished to mention. How these little things escape me! I must have left -them in the carriage." And she could not help smiling to herself at the -idea of these three little sins lost among the cushions. "And the poor -Abbe waiting for me in his box. How hot it must be in there! he is -quite red. Good Heavens! how shall I begin? I can not invent faults? -It is that torn dress which has upset me. And there is Louise, who is to -meet me at five o'clock at the dressmaker's. It is impossible for me to -collect myself. O God, do not turn away your face from me, and you, -Lord, who can read in my soul--Louise will wait till a quarter past five; -besides, the bodice fits--there is only the skirt to try on. And to -think that I had three sins only a minute ago." - -All these different thoughts, pious and profane, were struggling together -at once in the Countess's brain, so that I thought the moment had come to -interfere and help her a little. - -"Come," I said, in a paternal voice, leaning forward benevolently and -twisting my snuff-box in my fingers. "Come, my dear Madame, and speak -fearlessly; have you nothing to reproach yourself with? Have you had no -impulses of--worldly coquetry, no wish to dazzle at the expense of your -neighbor?" - -I had a vague idea that I should not be contradicted. - -"Yes, father," she said, smoothing down her bonnet strings, "sometimes; -but I have always made an effort to drive away such thoughts." - -"That good intention in some degree excuses you, but reflect and see how -empty are these little triumphs of vanity, how unworthy of a truly poor -soul and how they draw it aside from salvation. I know that there are -certain social exigencies--society. Yes, yes, but after all one can even -in those pleasures which the Church tolerates--I say tolerates--bring to -bear that perfume of good-will toward one's neighbor of which the -Scriptures speak, and which is the appanage--in some degree . . . the -glorious appanage. Yes, yes, go on." - -"Father, I have not been able to resist certain temptations to gluttony." - -"Again, again! Begin with yourself. You are here at the tribunal of -penitence; well, promise God to struggle energetically against these -little carnal temptations, which are not in themselves serious sins--oh! -no, I know it--but, after all, these constant solicitations prove a -persistent attachment--displeasing to Him--to the fugitive and deceitful -delights of this world. Hum, hum! and has this gluttony shown itself by -more blameworthy actions than usual--is it simply the same as last -month?" - -"The same as last month, father." - -"Yes, yes, pastry between meals," I sighed gravely. - -"Yes, father, and almost always a glass of Capri or of Syracuse after -it." - -"Or of Syracuse after it. Well, let that pass, let that pass." - -I fancied that the mention of this pastry and those choice wines was -becoming a source of straying thoughts on my part, for which I mentally -asked forgiveness of heaven. - -"What else do you recall?" I asked, passing my hand over my face. - -"Nothing else, father; I do not recollect anything else." - -"Well let a sincere repentance spring up in your heart for the sins you -have just admitted, and for those which you may have forgotten; commune -with yourself, humble yourself in the presence of the great act you have -just accomplished. I will give you absolution. Go in peace." - -The Countess rose, smiled at me with discreet courtesy, and, resuming her -ordinary voice, said in a low tone, "Till Saturday evening, then?" - -I bowed as a sign of assent, but felt rather embarrassed on account of my -sacred character. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -AN EMBASSY BALL - -"Don't say that it is not pretty," added my aunt, brushing the firedog -with the tip of her tiny boot. "It lends an especial charm to the look, -I must acknowledge. A cloud of powder is most becoming, a touch of rouge -has a charming effect, and even that blue shadow that they spread, I -don't know how, under the eye. What coquettes some women are! Did you -notice Anna's eyes at Madame de Sieurac's last Thursday? Is it -allowable? Frankly, can you understand how any one can dare?" - -"Well, aunt, I did not object to those eyes, and between ourselves they -had a softness." - -"I do not deny that, they had a softness." - -"And at the same time such a strange brilliancy beneath that half shadow, -an expression of such delicious languor." - -"Yes, certainly, but, after all, it is making an exhibition of one's -self. But for that--it is very pretty sometimes--I have seen in the Bois -charming creatures under their red, their black, and their blue, for they -put on blue too, God forgive me!" - -"Yes, aunt, Polish blue; it is put on with a stump; it is for the veins." - -With interest: "They imitate veins! It is shocking, upon my word. But -you seem to know all about it?" - -"Oh, I have played so often in private theatricals; I have even quite a -collection of little pots of color, hare's-feet stumps, pencils, et -cetera." - -"Ah! you have, you rascal! Are you going to the fancy ball at the -Embassy to-morrow?" - -"Yes, aunt; and you, are you going in character?" - -"One must, since every one else will. They say the effect will be -splendid." After a silence: "I shall wear powder; do you think it will -suit me?" - -"Better than any one, my dear aunt; you will look adorable, I feel -certain." - -"We shall see, you little courtier." - -She rose, gave me her hand to kiss with an air of exquisite grace, and -seemed about to withdraw, then, seemingly changing her mind: - -"Since you are going to the Embassy to-morrow, Ernest, call for me; I -will give you a seat in the carriage. You can give me your opinion on my -costume, and then," she broke into a laugh, and taking me by the hand, -added in my ear: "Bring your little pots and come early. This is between -ourselves." She put her finger to her lip as a signal for discretion. -"Till tomorrow, then." - - -The following evening my aunt's bedroom presented a spectacle of most -wild disorder. - -Her maid and the dressmaker, with haggard eyes, for they had been up all -night, were both on their knees, rummaging amidst the bows of satin, and -feverishly sticking in pins. - -"How late you are," said my aunt to me. "Do you know that it is eleven -o'clock? and we have," she continued, showing her white teeth, "a great -many things to do yet. The horses have been put to this last hour. I am -sure they will take cold in that icy courtyard." As she spoke she -stretched out her foot, shod with a red-heeled slipper, glittering with -gold embroidery. Her plump foot seemed to overflow the side of the shoe -a trifle, and through the openwork of her bright silk stocking the rosy -skin of her ankle showed at intervals. - -"What do you think of me, Monsieur Artist?" - -"But, Countess, my dear aunt, I mean, I--I am dazzled by this July sun, -the brightest of all the year, you know. You are adorable, adorable--and -your hair!" - -"Is it not well arranged? Silvani did it; he has not his equal, that -man. The diamonds in the hair go splendidly, and then this lofty style -of head-dressing gives a majestic turn to the neck. I do not know -whether you are aware that I have always been a coquette as regards my -neck; it is my only bit of vanity. Have you brought your little color- -pots?" - -"Yes, aunt, I have the whole apparatus, and if you will sit down--" - -"I am frightfully pale-just a little, Ernest; you know what I told you," -and she turned her head, presenting her right eye to me. I can still see -that eye. - -I do not know what strange perfume, foreign to aunts in general, rose -from her garments. - -"You understand, my dear boy, that it is only an occasion like the -present, and the necessities of a historical costume, that make me -consent to paint like this." - -"My dear little aunt, if you move, my hand will shake." And, indeed, in -touching her long lashes, my hand trembled. - -"Ah! yes, in the corner, a little--you are right, it gives a softness, -a vagueness, a--it is very funny, that little pot of blue. How ugly it -must be! How things lead on one to another! Once one's hair is -powdered, one must have a little pearl powder on one's face in order not -to look as yellow as an orange; and one's cheeks once whitened, one -can't--you are tickling me with your brush--one can't remain like a -miller, so a touch of rouge is inevitable. And then--see how wicked it -is--if, after all that, one does not enlarge the eyes a bit, they look as -if they had been bored with a gimlet, don't they? It is like this that -one goes on little by little, till one comes to the gallows." - -My aunt began to laugh freely, as she studied her face. - -"Ah! that is very effective what you have just done--well under the eye, -that's it. What animation it gives to the look! How clever those -creatures are, how well they know everything that becomes one! It is -shameful, for with them it is a trick, nothing more. Oh! you may put on -a little more of that blue of yours, I see what it does now. It has a -very good effect. How you are arching the eyebrows. Don't you think it -is a little too black? You know I should not like to look as if--you are -right, though. Where did you learn all that? You might earn a deal of -money, do you know, if you set up a practice." - -"Well, aunt, are you satisfied?" - -My aunt held her hand-glass at a distance, brought it near, held it away -again, smiled, and, leaning back in her chair, said: "It must be -acknowledged that it is charming, this. What do your friends call it?" - -"Make-up, aunt." - -"It is vexatious that it has not another name, for really I shall have -recourse to it for the evening--from time to time. It is certain that it -is attractive. Haven't you a little box for the lips?" - -"Here it is." - -"Ah! in a bottle, it is liquid." - -"It is a kind of vinegar, as you see. Don't move, aunt. Put out your -lips as if you wished to kiss me. You don't by chance want to?" - -"Yes, and you deserve it. You will teach me your little accomplishments, -will you not?" - -"Willingly, aunt." - -"Your vinegar is miraculous! what brightness it gives to the lips, and -how white one's teeth look. It is true my teeth were always--" - -"Another of your bits of vanity." - -"It is done, then. Thank you." She smiled at me mincingly, for the -vinegar stung her lips a little. - -With her moistened finger she took a patch which she placed with charming -coquetry under her eye, and another which she placed near the corner of -her mouth, and then, radiant and adorable, exclaimed: "Hide away your -little color-pots; I hear your uncle coming for me. Clasp my bracelets -for me. Midnight! O my poor horses!" - -At that moment my uncle entered in silk shorts and a domino. - -"I hope I do not intrude," said he, gayly, on seeing me. - -"What nonsense!" said my aunt, turning toward him. "Ernest is going to -the Embassy, like ourselves, and I have offered him a seat in the -carriage." - -At the aspect of my aunt, my uncle, dazzled, held out his gloved hand to -her, saying, "You are enchanting this evening, my dear." Then, with a -sly smile, "Your complexion has a fine brightness, and your eyes have a -wonderful brilliancy." - -"Oh, it is the fire they have been making up--it is stifling here. But -you, my dear, you look splendid; I have never seen your beard so black." - -"It is because I am so pale--I am frozen. Jean forgot to look after my -fire at all, and it went out. Are you ready?" - -My aunt smiled in turn as she took up her fan. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -MY AUNT AS VENUS - -Since that day when I kissed Madame de B. right on the centre of the -neck, as she held out her forehead to me, there has crept into our -intercourse an indescribable, coquettish coolness, which is nevertheless -by no means unpleasant. The matter of the kiss has never been completely -explained. It happened just as I left Saint-Cyr. I was full of ardor, -and the cravings of my heart sometimes blinded me. I say that they -sometimes blinded me; I repeat, blinded me, and this is true, for really -I must have been possessed to have kissed my aunt on the neck as I did -that day. But let that pass. - -It was not that she was hardly worth it; my little auntie, as I used to -call her then, was the prettiest woman in the world--coquettish, elegant; -and what a foot! and, above all, that delightful little--I don't know -what--which is so fashionable now, and which tempts one always to say too -much. - -When I say that I must have been possessed, it is because I think of the -consequences to which that kiss might have led. Her husband, General de -B., being my direct superior, it might have got me into a very awkward -position; besides, there is the respect due to one's family. Oh, I have -never failed in that. - -But I do not know why I am recalling all these old recollections, which -have nothing in common with what I am about to relate to you. My -intention was simply to tell you that since my return from Mexico I go -pretty frequently to Madame de B.'s, as perhaps you do also, for she -keeps up a rather good establishment, receives every Monday evening, -and there is usually a crowd of people at her house, for she is very -entertaining. There is no form of amusement that she does not resort to -in order to keep up her reputation as a woman of fashion. I must own, -however, that I had never seen anything at her house to equal what I saw -last Monday. - -I was in the ante-room, where the footman was helping me off with my top- -coat, when Jean, approaching me with a suspicion of mystery, said: "My -mistress expects to see you immediately, Monsieur, in her bedroom. If -you will walk along the passage and knock at the door at the end, you -will find her." - -When one has just returned from the other side of the world, such words -sound queer. The old affair of the kiss recurred to me in spite of -myself. What could my aunt want with me? - -I tapped quietly at the door, and heard at once an outburst of stifled -laughter. - -"Wait a moment," exclaimed a laughing voice. - -"I won't be seen in this state," whispered another--"Yes"--"No"--"You are -absurd, my dear, since it is an affair of art."--" Ha, ha, ha." And they -laughed and laughed again. - -At last a voice cried, "Come in," and I turned the handle. - -At first glance I could only make out a confused chaos, impossible to -describe, amidst which my aunt was bustling about clad in pink fleshings. -Clad, did I say?--very airily. - -The furniture, the carpet, the mantel-piece were encumbered, almost -buried under a heterogeneous mass of things. Muslin petticoats, tossed -down haphazard, pieces of lace, a cardboard helmet covered with gilt -paper, open jewel-cases, bows of ribbon; curling-tongs, half hidden in -the ashes; and on every side little pots, paint-brushes, odds and ends of -all kinds. Behind two screens, which ran across the room, I could hear -whisperings, and the buzzing sound peculiar to women dressing themselves. -In one corner Silvani--the illustrious Silvani, still wearing the large -white apron he assumes when powdering his clients--was putting away his -powder-puff and turning down his sleeves with a satisfied air. I stood -petrified. What was going on at my aunt's? - -She discovered my astonishment, and without turning round she said in -agitated tones: - -"Ah! is it you, Ernest?" Then as if making up her mind, she broke into a -hearty burst of laughter, like all women who have good teeth, and added, -with a slightly superior air, "You see, we are having private -theatricals." - -Then turning toward me with her elegant coiffure powdered to excess, I -could see that her face was painted like that of a priestess of -antiquity. That gauze, that atmosphere, redolent with feminine perfumes, -and behind those screens-behind those screens! - -"Women in society," I said to myself, looking about me, "must be mad to -amuse themselves in this fashion." - -"And what piece are you going to play, aunt, in such an attractive -costume?" - -"Good evening, Captain," called out a laughing voice from behind the -screen on the right. - -"We were expecting you," came from behind the screen on the left. - -"Good evening, ladies; what can I do for you?" - -"It is not a play," observed my aunt, modestly drawing together her sea- -weed draperies. "How behind the age you are, to think that any one plays -set-pieces nowadays. It is not a piece, it is a 'tableau vivant', 'The -judgment of Paris.' You know 'The Judgment of Paris'? I take the part -of Venus--I did not want to, but they all urged me--give me a pin--on the -mantelpiece--near the bag of bonbons--there to the left, next to the -jewel-case--close by the bottle of gum standing on my prayer-book. Can't -you see? Ah! at last. In short, the knife to my throat to compel me to -play Venus." - -Turning to the screen on the right she said: "Pass me the red for the -lips, dear; mine are too pale." To the hairdresser, who is making his -way to the door: "Silvani, go to the gentlemen who are dressing in the -billiard-room, and in the Baron's dressing-room, they perhaps may need -you. Madame de S. and her daughters are in the boudoir--ah! see whether -Monsieur de V. has found his apple again--he plays Paris," added my aunt, -turning toward me once more; "the apple must not be lost--well, dear, and -that red for the lips I asked you for? Pass it to the Captain over the -screen." - -"Here it is; but make haste, Captain, my cuirass cracks as soon as I -raise my arm." - -I descried above the screen two slender fingers, one of which, covered -with glittering rings, held in the air a little pot without a cover. - -"What,--is your cuirass cracking, Marchioness?" - -"Oh! it will do, but make haste and take it, Captain." - -"You may think it strange, but I tremble like a leaf," exclaimed my aunt. -"I am afraid of being ill. Do you hear the gentlemen who are dressing in -there in the Baron's dressing room? What a noise! Ha! ha! ha! it is -charming, a regular gang of strollers. It is exhilarating, do you know, -this feverish existence, this life in front of the footlights. But, for -the love of Heaven, shut the door, Marie, there is a frightful draught -blowing on me. This hourly struggle with the public, the hisses, the -applause, would, with my impressionable nature, drive me mad, I am sure." - -The old affair of the kiss recurred to me and I said to myself, "Captain, -you misunderstood the nature of your relative." - -"But that is not the question at all," continued my aunt; "ten o'clock is -striking. Ernest, can you apply liquid white? As you are rather -experienced--" - -"Rather--ha! ha! ha!" said some one behind the screen. - -"On the whole," continued the Baroness, "it would be very singular if, in -the course of your campaigns, you had never seen liquid white applied." - -"Yes, aunt, I have some ideas; yes, I have some ideas about liquid white, -and by summoning together all my recollections--" - -"Is it true, Captain, that it causes rheumatism?" - -"No, not at all; have a couple of logs put on the fire and give me the -stuff." - -So saying, I turned up my sleeves and poured some of the "Milk of Beauty" -into a little onyx bowl that was at hand, then I dipped a little sponge -into it, and approached my Aunt Venus with a smile. - -"You are sure that it has no effect on the skin--no, I really dare not." -As she said this she looked as prim as a vestal. "It is the first time, -do you know, that I ever used this liquid white, ah! ah! ah! What a -baby I am! I am all in a shiver." - -"But, my dear, you are foolish," exclaimed the lady of the screen, -breaking into a laugh; "when one acts one must submit to the exigencies -of the footlights." - -"You hear, aunt? Come, give me your arm." - -She held out her full, round arm, on the surface of which was spread that -light and charming down, symbol of maturity. I applied the wet sponge. - -"Oh! oh! oh!" exclaimed the Baroness; "it is like ice, a regular shower- -bath, and you want to put that all over me?" - -Just then there was a knock at the door which led out of the Baron's -dressing-room, and instinctively I turned toward it. - -"Who's there? Oh! you are letting it splutter all over me!" exclaimed -the Baroness. "You can't come in; what is it?" - -"What is the matter, aunt?" - -"You can't come in," exclaimed some one behind the screen; "my cuirass -has split. Marie, Rosine, a needle and thread, the gum." - -"Oh! there is a stream all down my back, your horrid white is running -down," said the Baroness, in a rage. - -"I will wipe it. I am really very sorry." - -"Can you get your hand down my back, do you think?" - -"Why not, aunt?" - -"Why not, why not! Because where there is room for a drop of water, -there is not room for the hand of a lancer." - -Another knock, this time at the door opening from the passage. - -"What is it now?" - -"The torches have come, Madame," said a footman. "Will you have them -lighted?" - -"Ah! the torches of Mesdemoiselles de N., who are dressing in the -boudoir. No, certainly not, do not light them, they are not wanted till -the second tableau." - -"Do not stir, aunt, I beg of you. Mesdemoiselles de N. appears too, -then?" - -"Yes, with their mamma; they represent 'The Lights of Faith driving out -Unbelief,' thus they naturally require torches. You know, they are tin -tubes with spirits of wine which blazes up. It will be, perhaps, the -prettiest tableau of the evening. It is an indirect compliment we wish -to pay to the Cardinal's nephew; you know the dark young man with very -curly hair and saintly eyes; you saw him last Monday. He is in high -favor at court. The Comte de Geloni was kind enough to promise to come -this evening, and then Monsieur de Saint P. had the idea of this -tableau. His imagination is boundless, Monsieur de Saint P., not to -mention his good taste, if he would not break his properties." - -"Is he not also a Chevalier of the Order of Saint Gregory?" - -"Yes, and, between ourselves, I think that he would not be sorry to -become an officer in it." - -"Ah! I understand, 'The Lights of Faith driving out,' et cetera. But -tell me, aunt, am I not brushing you too hard? Lift up your arm a -little, please. Tell me who has undertaken the part of Unbelief?" - -"Don't speak of it, it is quite a history. As it happened, the casting -of the parts took place the very evening on which his Holiness's -Encyclical was published, so that the gentlemen were somewhat excited. -Monsieur de Saint P. took high ground, really very high ground; indeed, -I thought for a moment that the General was going to flare out. In -short, no one would have anything to do with Unbelief, and we had to have -recourse to the General's coachman, John--you know him? He is a good- -looking fellow; he is a Protestant, moreover, so that the part is not a -novel one to him." - -"No matter, it will be disagreeable for the De N.'s to appear side by -side with a servant." - -"Come! such scruples must not be carried too far; he is smeared over with -black and lies stretched on his face, while the three ladies trample on -him, so you see that social proprieties are observed after all. Come, -have you done yet? My hair is rather a success, is it not? Silvani is -the only man who understands how to powder one. He wanted to dye it red, -but I prefer to wait till red hair has found its way a little more into -society." - -"There; it is finished, aunt. Is it long before you have to go on?" - -"No. Good Heavens, it is close on eleven o'clock! The thought of -appearing before all these people--don't the flowers drooping from my -head make my neck appear rather awkward, Ernest? Will you push them up -a little?" - -Then going to the door of the dressing-room she tapped at it gently, -saying, "Are you ready, Monsieur de V.?" - -"Yes, Baroness, I have found my apple, but I am horribly nervous. Are -Minerva and Juno dressed? Oh! I am nervous to a degree you have no idea -of." - -"Yes, yes, every one is ready; send word to the company in the drawing- -room. My poor heart throbs like to burst, Captain." - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -HUSBAND AND WIFE - - -MY DEAR SISTERS: - -Marriage, as it is now understood, is not exactly conducive to love. -In this I do not think that I am stating an anomaly. Love in marriage -is, as a rule, too much at his ease; he stretches himself with too great -listlessness in armchairs too well cushioned. He assumes the -unconstrained habits of dressing-gown and slippers; his digestion goes -wrong, his appetite fails and of an evening, in the too-relaxing warmth -of a nest, made for him, he yawns over his newspaper, goes to sleep, -snores, and pines away. It is all very well, my sisters, to say, "But -not at all--but how can it be, Father Z.?--you know nothing about it, -reverend father." - -I maintain that things are as I have stated, and that at heart you are -absolutely of my opinion. Yes, your poor heart has suffered very often; -there are nights during which you have wept, poor angel, vainly awaiting -the dream of the evening before. - -"Alas!" you say, "is it then all over? One summer's day, then thirty -years of autumn, to me, who am so fond of sunshine." That is what you -have thought. - -But you say nothing, not knowing what you should say. Lacking self- -confidence and ignorant of yourself, you have made it a virtue to keep -silence and not wake your husband while he sleeps; you have got into the -habit of walking on the tips of your toes so as not to disturb the -household, and your husband, in the midst of this refreshing half-sleep, -has begun to yawn luxuriously; then he has gone out to his club, where he -has been received like the prodigal son, while you, poor poet without pen -or ink, have consoled yourself by watching your sisters follow the same -road as yourself. - -You have, all of you, ladies, your pockets full of manuscripts, charming -poems, delightful romances; it is a reader who is lacking to you, and -your husband takes up his hat and stick at the very sight of your -handwriting; he firmly believes that there are no more romances except -those already in print. From having read so many, he considers that no -more can be written. - -This state of things I regard as absolutely detestable. I look upon you, -my dear sisters, as poor victims, and if you will permit I will give you -my opinion on the subject. - -Esteem and friendship between husband and wife are like our daily bread, -very pleasant and respectable; but a little jam would not spoil that, you -will admit! If, therefore, one of your friends complains of the freedom -that reigns in this little book, let her talk on and be sure beforehand -that this friend eats dry bread. We have described marriage as we think -it should be--depicting smiling spouses, delighted to be together. - -Is it because love is rare as between husband and wife that it is -considered unbecoming to relate its joys? Is it regret, or envy, that -renders you fastidious on the subject, sisters? Reserve your blushes for -the pictures of that society of courtesans where love is an article of -commerce, where kisses are paid for in advance. Regard the relation of -these coarse pleasures as immodest and revolting, be indignant, scold -your brethren--I will admit that you are in the right beforehand; but for -Heaven's sake do not be offended if we undertake your defence, when we -try to render married life pleasant and attractive, and advise husbands -to love their wives, wives to love their husbands. - -You must understand that there is a truly moral side to all this. To -prove that you are adorable; that there are pleasures, joys, happiness, -to be found outside the society of those young women--such is our object; -and since we are about to describe it, we venture to hope that after -reflecting for a few minutes you will consider our intentions -praiseworthy, and encourage us to persevere in them. - -I do not know why mankind has chosen to call marriage a man-trap, and all -sorts of frightful things; to stick up all round it boards on which one -reads: "Beware of the sacred ties of marriage;" "Do not jest with the -sacred duties of a husband;" "Meditate on the sacred obligation of a -father of a family;" "Remember that the serious side of life is -beginning;" "No weakness; henceforth you are bound to find yourself face -to face with stern reality," etc., etc. - -I will not say that it is imprudent to set forth all those fine things; -but when done it should be done with less affectation. To warn people -that there are thorns in the path is all very well; but, hang it! there -is something else in married life, something that renders these duties -delightful, else this sacred position and these ties would soon be -nothing more than insupportable burdens. One would really think that to -take to one's self a pretty little wife, fresh in heart and pure in mind, -and to condemn one's self to saw wood for the rest of one's days, were -one and the same thing. - -Well, my dear sisters, have you any knowledge of those who have painted -the picture in these gloomy colors and described as a punishment that -which should be a reward? They are the husbands with a past and having -rheumatism. Being weary and--how shall I put it?--men of the world, -they choose to represent marriage as an asylum, of which you are to be -the angels. No doubt to be an angel is very nice, but, believe me, it is -either too much or too little. Do not seek to soar so high all at once, -but, instead, enter on a short apprenticeship. It will be time enough to -don the crown of glory when you have no longer hair enough to dress in -any other fashion. - -But, O husbands with a past! do you really believe that your own angelic -quietude and the studied austerity of your principles are taken for -anything else than what they really mean--exhaustion? - -You wish to rest; well and good; but it is wrong in you to wish everybody -else about you to rest too; to ask for withered trees and faded grass in -May, the lamps turned down and the lamp-shades doubled; to require one to -put water in the soup and to refuse one's self a glass of claret; to look -for virtuous wives to be highly respectable and somewhat wearisome -beings; dressing neatly, but having had neither poetry, youth, gayety, -nor vague desires; ignorant of everything, undesirous of learning -anything; helpless, thanks to the weighty virtues with which you have -crammed them; above all, to ask of these poor creatures to bless your -wisdom, caress your bald forehead, and blush with shame at the echo of a -kiss. - -The deuce! but that is a pretty state of things for marriage to come to. - -Delightful institution! How far are your sons, who are now five-and- -twenty years of age, in the right in being afraid of it! Have they not a -right to say to you, twirling their moustaches: - -"But, my dear father, wait a bit; I am not quite ripe for it!" - -"Yes; but it is a splendid match, and the young lady is charming." - -"No doubt, but I feel that I should not make her happy. I am not old -enough--indeed, I am not." - -And when the young man is seasoned for it, how happy she will be, poor -little thing!--a ripe husband, ready to fall from the tree, fit to be put -away in the apple-loft! What happiness! a good husband, who the day -after his marriage will piously place his wife in a niche and light a -taper in front of her; then take his hat and go off to spend elsewhere a -scrap of youth left by chance at the bottom of his pocket. - -Ah! my good little sisters who are so very much shocked and cry "Shame!" -follow our reasoning a little further. It is all very well that you -should be treated like saints, but do not let it be forgotten that you -are women, and, listen to me, do not forget it yourselves. - -A husband, majestic and slightly bald, is a good thing; a young husband -who loves you and eats off the same plate is better. If he rumples your -dress a little, and imprints a kiss, in passing, on the back of your -neck, let him. When, on coming home from a ball, he tears out the pins, -tangles the strings, and laughs like a madman, trying to see whether you -are ticklish, let him. Do not cry "Murder!" if his moustache pricks -you, but think that it is all because at heart he loves you well. He -worships your virtues; is it surprising hence that he should cherish -their outward coverings? No doubt you have a noble soul; but your body -is not therefore to be despised; and when one loves fervently, one loves -everything at the same time. Do not be alarmed if in the evening, when -the fire is burning brightly and you are chatting gayly beside it, he -should take off one of your shoes and stockings, put your foot on his -lap, and in a moment of forgetfulness carry irreverence so far as to kiss -it; if he likes to pass your large tortoise-shell comb through your hair, -if he selects your perfumes, arranges your plaits, and suddenly exclaims, -striking his forehead: "Sit down there, darling; I have an idea how to -arrange a new coiffure." - -If he turns up his sleeves and by chance tangles your curls, where really -is the harm? Thank Heaven if in the marriage which you have hit upon you -find a laughing, joyous side; if in your husband you find the loved -reader of the pretty romance you have in your pocket; if, while wearing -cashmere shawls and costly jewels in your ears, you find the joys of a -real intimacy--that is delicious! In short, reckon yourself happy if in -your husband you find a lover. - -But before accepting my theories, ladies, although in your heart and -conscience you find them perfect, you will have several little prejudices -to overcome; above all, you will have to struggle against your education, -which is deplorable, as I have already said, but that is no great matter. -Remember that under the pretext of education you have been stuffed, my -dear sisters. You have been varnished too soon, like those pictures -painted for sales, which crack all over six months after purchase. Your -disposition has not been properly directed; you are not cultivated; you -have been stifled, pruned; you have been shaped like those yew-trees at -Versailles which represent goblets and birds. Still, you are women at -the bottom, though you no longer look it. - -You are handed over to us men swaddled, distorted, stuffed with -prejudices and principles, heavy as paving-stones; all of which are the -more difficult to dislodge since you look upon them as sacred; you are -started on the matrimonial journey with so much luggage reckoned as -indispensable; and at the first station your husband, who is not an -angel, loses his temper amidst all these encumbrances, sends it all to -the devil under some pretext or other, lets you go on alone, and gets -into another carriage. I do not require, mark me, that you should be -allowed to grow up uncared for, that good or evil instincts should be -suffered to spring up in you anyhow: but it were better that they should -not treat your poor mind like the foot of a well-born Chinese girl--that -they should not enclose it in a porcelain slipper. - -A marriageable young lady is a product of maternal industry, which takes -ten years to fructify, and needs from five to six more years of study on -the part of the husband to purify, strip, and restore to its real shape. -In other words, it takes ten years to make a bride and six years at least -to turn this bride into a woman again. Admit frankly that this is time -lost as regards happiness, but try to make it up if your husband will -permit you to do so. - -The sole guaranty of fidelity between husband and wife is love. One -remains side by side with a fellow-traveller only so long as one -experiences pleasure and happiness in his company. Laws, decrees, oaths, -may prevent faithlessness, or at least punish it, but they can neither -hinder nor punish intention. But as regards love, intention and deed are -the same. - -Is it not true, my dear sisters, that you are of this opinion? Do not -you thoroughly understand that if love is absent from marriage it should, -on the contrary, be its real pivot? To make one's self lovable is the -main thing. Believe my white hairs that it is so, and let me give you -some more advice. - -Yes, I favor marriage--I do not conceal it--the happy marriage in which -we cast into the common lot our ideas and our sorrows, as well as our -good-humor and our affections. Suppress, by all means, in this -partnership, gravity and affectation, yet add a sprinkling of gallantry -and good-fellowship. Preserve even in your intimacy that coquetry you so -readily assume in society. Seek to please your husband. Be amiable. -Consider that your husband is an audience, whose sympathy you must -conquer. - -In your manner of loving mark those shades, those feminine delicacies, -which double the price of things. Do not be miserly, but remember that -the manner in which one gives adds to the value of the gift; or rather do -not give--make yourself sought after. Think of those precious jewels -that are arranged with such art in their satin-lined jewel-case; never -forget the case. Let your nest be soft, let your presence be felt in all -its thousand trifles. Put a little of yourself into the ordering of -everything. Be artistic, delicate, and refined--you can do so without -effort--and let your husband perceive in everything that surrounds him, -from the lace on the curtains to the perfume that you use, a wish on your -part to please him. - -Do not say to him, "I love you"; that phrase may perhaps recall to him a -recollection or two. But lead him on to say to you, "You do love me, -then?" and answer "No," but with a little kiss which means "Yes." Make -him feel beside you the present to be so pleasant that the past will fade -from his memory; and to this end let nothing about you recall that past, -for, despite himself, he would never forgive it in you. Do not imitate -the women whom he may have known, nor their head-dresses or toilettes; -that would tend to make him believe he has not changed his manner of -life. You have in yourself another kind of grace, another wit, another -coquetry, and above all that rejuvenescence of heart and mind which those -women have never had. You have an eagerness in life, a need of -expansion, a freshness of impression which are--though perhaps you may -not imagine it--irresistible charms. Be yourselves throughout, and you -will be for this loved spouse a novelty, a thousand times more charming -in his eyes than all the bygones possible. Conceal from him neither your -inclinations nor your inexperience, your childish joys or your childish -fears; but be as coquettish with all these as you are of the features of -your face, of your fine, black eyes and your long, fair hair. - -Nothing is more easily acquired than a little adroitness; do not throw -yourself at his head, and always have confidence in yourself. - -Usually, a man marries when he thinks himself ruined; when he feels in -his waistcoat pocket--not a louis--he is then seasoned; he goes at once -before the registrar. But let me tell you, sisters, he is still rich. -He has another pocket of which he knows nothing, the fool! and which is -full of gold. It is for you to act so that he shall find it out and be -grateful to you for the happiness he has had in finding a fortune. - -I will sum up, at once, as time is flying and I should not like you to be -late for dinner. For Heaven's sake, ladies, tear from the clutches of -the women, whose toilettes you do very wrong in imitating, your husbands' -affections. Are you not more refined, more sprightly, than they? Do for -him whom you love that which these women do for all the world; do not -content yourselves with being virtuous--be attractive, perfume your hair, -nurture illusion as a rare plant in a golden vase. Cultivate a little -folly when practicable; put away your marriage-contract arid look at it -only once in ten years; love one another as if you had not sworn to do -so; forget that there are bonds, contracts, pledges; banish from your -mind the recollection of the Mayor and his scarf. Sometimes when you are -alone fancy that you are only sweethearts; sister, is not that what you -eagerly desire? - -Ah! let candor and youth flourish. Let us love and laugh while spring -blossoms. Let us love our babies, the little dears, and kiss our wives. -Yes, that is moral and healthy; the world is not a shivering convent, -marriage is not a tomb. Shame on those who find in it only sadness, -boredom, and sleep. - -My sisters, my sisters, strive to be real; that is the blessing I wish -you. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -MADAME'S IMPRESSIONS - -The marriage ceremony at the Town Hall has, no doubt, a tolerable -importance; but is it really possible for a well-bred person to regard -this importance seriously? I have been through it; I have undergone like -every one else this painful formality, and I can not look back on it -without feeling a kind of humiliation. On alighting from the carriage -I descried a muddy staircase; walls placarded with bills of every color, -and in front of one of them a man in a snuff-colored coat, bare-headed, a -pen behind his ear, and papers under his arm, who was rolling a cigarette -between his inky fingers. To the left a door opened and I caught a -glimpse of a low dark room in which a dozen fellows belonging to the -National Guard were smoking black pipes. My first thought on entering -this barrack-room was that I had done wisely in not putting on my gray -dress. We ascended the staircase and I saw a long, dirty, dim passage, -with a number of half-glass doors, on which I read: "Burials. Turn the -handle," "Expropriations," "Deaths. Knock loudly," "Inquiries," -"Births," "Public Health," etc., and at length "Marriages." - -We entered in company with a small lad who was carrying a bottle of ink; -the atmosphere was thick, heavy, and hot, and made one feel ill. -Happily, an attendant in a blue livery, resembling in appearance the -soldiers I had seen below, stepped forward to ask us to excuse him for -not having at once ushered us into the Mayor's drawing-room, which is no -other than the first-class waiting-room. I darted into it as one jumps -into a cab when it begins to rain suddenly. Almost immediately two -serious persons, one of whom greatly resembled the old cashier at the -Petit-Saint-Thomas, brought in two registers, and, opening them, wrote -for some time; only stopping occasionally to ask the name, age, and -baptismal names of both of us, then, saying to themselves, "Semi-colon . -. . between the aforesaid . . . fresh paragraph, etc., etc." - -When he had done, the one like the man cashier at the Petit-Saint-Thomas -read aloud, through his nose, that which he had put down, and of which I -could understand nothing, except that my name was several times repeated -as well as that of the other "aforesaid." A pen was handed to us and we -signed. Voila. - -"Is it over?" said I to Georges, who to my great surprise was very pale. - -"Not yet, dear," said he; "we must now go into the hall, where the -marriage ceremony takes place." - -We entered a large, empty hall with bare walls; a bust of the Emperor was -at the farther end over a raised platform, some armchairs, and some -benches behind them, and dust upon everything. I must have been in a -wrong mood, for it seemed to me I was entering the waiting-room at a -railway-station; nor could I help looking at my aunts, who were very -merry, over the empty chairs. The gentlemen, who no doubt affected not -to think as we did, were, on the contrary, all very serious, and I could -discern very well that Georges was actually trembling. At length the -Mayor came in by a little door and appeared before us, awkward and podgy -in his dress-coat, which was too large for him, and which his scarf -caused to rise up. He was a very respectable man who had amassed a -decent fortune from the sale of iron bedsteads; yet how could I bring -myself to think that this embarrassed-looking, ill-dressed, timid little -creature could, with a word hesitatingly uttered, unite me in eternal -bonds? Moreover, he had a fatal likeness to my piano-tuner. - -The Mayor, after bowing to us, as a man bows when without his hat, and in -a white cravat, that is to say, clumsily, blew his nose, to the great -relief of his two arms which he did not know what to do with, and briskly -began the little ceremony. He hurriedly mumbled over several passages of -the Code, giving the numbers of the paragraphs; and I was given -confusedly to understand that I was threatened with the police if I did -not blindly obey all the orders and crotchets of my husband, and if I did -not follow wherever he might choose to take me, even if it should be to a -sixth floor in the Rue-Saint-Victor. A score of times I was on the point -of interrupting the Mayor, and saying, "Excuse me, Monsieur, but those -remarks are hardly polite as regards myself, and you yourself must know -that they are devoid of meaning." - -But I restrained myself for fear I might frighten the magistrate, who -seemed to me to be in a hurry to finish. He added, however, a few words -on the mutual duties of husband and wife--copartnership--paternity, etc., -etc.; but all these things, which would perhaps have made me weep -anywhere else, seemed grotesque to me, and I could not forget that dozen -of soldiers playing piquet round the stove, and that row of doors on -which I had read "Public Health," "Burials," "Deaths," "Expropriations," -etc. I should have been aggrieved at this dealer in iron bedsteads -touching on my cherished dreams if the comic side of the situation had -not absorbed my whole attention, and if a mad wish to laugh outright had -not seized me. - -"Monsieur Georges -------- , do you swear to take for your wife -Mademoiselle ----------- ," said the Mayor, bending forward. - -My husband bowed and answered "Yes" in a very low voice. He has since -acknowledged to me that he never felt more emotion in his life than in -uttering that "Yes." - -"Mademoiselle Berthe -------- ," continued the magistrate, turning to me, -"do you swear to take for your husband -----------" - -I bowed, with a smile, and said to myself: "Certainly; that is plain -enough; I came here for that express purpose." - -That was all. I was married! - -My father and my husband shook hands like men who had not met for twenty -years; the eyes of both were moist. As for myself, it was impossible for -me to share their emotion. I was very hungry, and mamma and I had the -carriage pulled up at the pastry-cook's before going on to the -dressmaker's. - -The next morning was the great event, and when I awoke it was hardly -daylight. I opened the door leading into the drawing-room; there my -dress was spread out on the sofa, the veil folded beside it, my shoes, my -wreath in a large white box, nothing was lacking. I drank a glass of -water. I was nervous, uneasy, happy, trembling. It seemed like the -morning of a battle when one is sure of winning a medal. I thought of -neither my past nor my future; I was wholly taken up with the idea of the -ceremony, of that sacrament, the most solemn of all, of the oath I was -about to take before God, and also by the thought of the crowd gathered -expressly to see me pass. - -We breakfasted early. My father was in his boots, his trousers, his -white tie, and his dressing-gown. My mother also was half dressed. It -seemed to me that the servants took greater pains in waiting on me and -showed me more respect. I even remember that Marie said, "The -hairdresser has come, Madame." Madame! Good girl, I have not forgotten -it. - -It was impossible for me to eat; my throat was parched and I experienced -all over me shudders of impatience, something like the sensation one has -when one is very-thirsty and is waiting for the sugar to melt. The tones -of the organ seemed to haunt me, and the wedding of Emma and Louis -recurred to my mind. I dressed; the hairdresser called me "Madame" too, -and arranged my hair so nicely that I said, I remember, "Things are -beginning well; this coiffure is a good omen." I stopped Marie, who -wished to lace me tighter than usual. I know that white makes one look -stouter and that Marie was right; but I was afraid lest it should send -the blood to my head. I have always had a horror of brides who looked as -if they had just got up from table. Religious emotions should be too -profound to be expressed by anything save pallor. It is silly to blush -under certain circumstances. - -When I was dressed I entered the drawing-room to have a little more room -and to spread out my trailing skirts. My father and Georges were already -there, talking busily. - -"Have the carriages come?--yes--and about the 'Salutaris'?--very good, -then, you will see to everything--and the marriage coin--certainly, -I have the ring--Mon Dieu! where is my certificate of confession? Ah! -good, I left it in the carriage." - -They were saying all this hurriedly and gesticulating like people having -great business on hand. When Georges caught sight of me he kissed my -hand, and while the maids kneeling about me were settling the skirt, and -the hairdresser was clipping the tulle of the veil, he said in a husky -voice, "You look charming, dear." - -He was not thinking in the least of what he was saying, and I answered -mechanically: - -"Do you think so? Not too short, the veil, Monsieur Silvani. Don't -forget the bow on the bodice, Marie." - -When one has to look after everything, one needs all one's wits. -However, Georges' husky voice recurred to me, and I said to myself, "I am -sure that he has caught a cold; it is plain that he has had his hair cut -too short." - -I soon got at the true state of the case. - -"You have a cold, my dear fellow," said my father. - -"Don't speak of it," he answered in a low voice. And still lower, and -with a somewhat embarrassed smile: "Will you be so kind as to give me an -extra pocket-handkerchief? I have but one--" - -"Certainly, my dear boy." - -"Thanks, very much." - -It was a trifle, to be sure, but I felt vexed, and I remember that, when -going downstairs with them holding up my train behind me, I said to -myself, "I do hope that he does not sneeze at the altar." - -I soon forgot all about it. We got into the carriage; I felt that every -one was looking at me, and I caught sight of groups of spectators in the -street beyond the carriage gates. What I felt is impossible to describe, -but it was something delightful. The sound of the beadles' canes on the -pavement will forever reecho in my heart. We halted for a moment on the -red drugget. The great organ poured forth the full tones of a triumphal -march; thousands of eager faces turned toward me, and there in the -background, amidst an atmosphere of sunshine, incense, velvet, and gold, -were two gilt armchairs for us to seat ourselves on before the altar. - -I do not know why an old engraving in my father's study crossed my mind. -It represents the entry of Alexander the Great into Babylon; he is on an -elephant which is glittering with precious stones. You must know it. -Only, Alexander was a heathen who had many things to reproach himself -with, while I was not. - -God smiled on me, and with His paternal hand invited me to seat myself in -His house, on His red drugget, in His gilt armchair. The heavens, full -of joy, made music for me, and on high, through the glittering stained- -glass windows, the archangels, full of kind feeling, whispered as they -watched me. As I advanced, heads were bent as a wheat-field bends -beneath the breeze. My friends, my relatives, my enemies, bowed to us, -and I saw--for one sees everything in spite of one's self on these solemn -occasions--that they did not think that I looked ugly. On reaching the -gilt chair, I bent forward with restrained eagerness--my chignon was -high, revealing my neck, which is passable--and thanked the Lord. The -organ ceased its triumphal song and I could hear my poor mother bursting -into tears beside me. Oh! I understand what a mother's heart must feel -during such a ceremony. While watching with satisfaction the clergy who -were solemnly advancing, I noticed Georges; he seemed irritated; he was -stiff, upright, his nostrils dilated, and his lips set. I have always -been rather vexed at him for not having been a little more sensible to -what I was experiencing that day, but men do not understand this kind of -poetry. - -The discourse of his Reverence who married us was a masterpiece, and was -delivered, moreover, with that unction, that dignity, that persuasive -charm peculiar to him. He spoke of our two families "in which pious -belief was hereditary, like honor." You could have heard a pin drop, -such was the attention with which the prelate's voice was listened to. -Then at one point he turned toward me, and gave me to understand with a -thousand delicacies that I was wedding one of the noblest officers in the -army. "Heaven smiles," said he, "on the warrior who places at the -service of his country a sword blessed by God, and who, when he darts -into the fray, can place his hand upon his heart and shout to the enemy -that noble war-cry, 'I believe!'" How well that was turned! What -grandeur in this holy eloquence! A thrill ran through the assembly. -But that was not all. His Lordship then addressed Georges in a voice as -soft and unctuous as it had before been ringing and enthusiastic. - -"Monsieur, you are about to take as your companion a young girl"--I -scarcely dare recall the graceful and delicate things that his Reverence -said respecting me--"piously reared by a Christian mother who has been -able to share with her, if I may say so, all the virtues of her heart, -all the charms of her mind." (Mamma was sobbing.) "She will love her -husband as she has loved her father, that father full of kindness, who, -from the cradle, implanted in her the sentiments of nobility and -disinterestedness which--" (Papa smiled despite himself.) "Her father, -whose name is known to the poor, and who in the house of God has his -place marked among the elect." (Since his retirement, papa has become -churchwarden.) "And you, Monsieur, will respect, I feel certain, so much -purity, such ineffable candor"--I felt my eyes grow moist--"and without -forgetting the physical and perishable charms of this angel whom God -bestows upon you, you will thank Heaven for those qualities a thousand -times more precious and more lasting contained in her heart and her -mind." - -We were bidden to stand up, and stood face to face with one another like -the divine spouses in the picture of Raphael. We exchanged the golden -ring, and his Reverence, in a slow, grave voice, uttered some Latin -words, the sense of which I did not understand, but which greatly moved -me, for the prelate's hand, white, delicate, and transparent, seemed to -be blessing me. The censer, with its bluish smoke, swung by the hands of -children, shed in the air its holy perfume. What a day, great heavens! -All that subsequently took place grows confused in my memory. I was -dazzled, I was transported. I can remember, however, the bonnet with -white roses in which Louise had decked herself out. Strange it is how -some people are quite wanting in taste! - -Going to the vestry, I leaned on the General's arm, and it was then that -I saw the spectators' faces. All seemed touched. - -Soon they thronged round to greet me. The vestry was full, they pushed -and pressed round me, and I replied to all these smiles, to all these -compliments, by a slight bow in which religious emotion peeped forth in -spite of me. I felt conscious that something solemn had just taken place -before God and man; I felt conscious of being linked in eternal bonds. -I was married! - -By a strange fancy I then fell to thinking of the pitiful ceremony of the -day before. I compared--God forgive me for doing so!--the ex-dealer in -iron bedsteads, ill at ease in his dress-coat, to the priest; the trivial -and commonplace words of the mayor, with the eloquent outbursts of the -venerable prelate. What a lesson! There earth, here heaven; there the -coarse prose of the man of business, here celestial poesy. - -Georges, to whom I lately spoke about this, said: - -"But, my dear, perhaps you don't know that marriage at the Town Hall -before the registrar is gratis, while--" I put my hand over his mouth to -prevent him from finishing; it seemed to me that he was about to utter -some impiety. - -Gratis, gratis. That is exactly what I find so very unseemly. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -A WEDDING NIGHT - -Thanks to country manners and the solemnity of the occasion, the guests -had left fairly early. Almost every one had shaken hands with me, some -with a cunning smile and others with a foolish one, some with an -officious gravity that suggested condolence, and others with a stupid -cordiality verging on indiscretion. - -General de S. and the prefect, two old friends of the family, were -lingering over a game of ecarte, and frankly, in spite of all the good- -will I bore toward them, I should have liked to see them at the devil, so -irritable did I feel that evening. - -All this took place, I had forgotten to tell you, the very day of my -marriage, and I was really rather tired. Since morning I had been -overwhelmed by an average of about two hundred people, all actuated by -the best intentions, but as oppressive as the atmosphere before a storm. -Since morning I had kept up a perpetual smile for all, and then the good -village priest who had married us had thought it his duty, in a very neat -sermon so far as the rest of it went, to compare me to Saint Joseph, and -that sort of thing is annoying when one is Captain in a lancer regiment. -The Mayor, who had been good enough to bring his register to the chateau, -had for his part not been able, on catching sight of the prefect, to -resist the pleasure of crying, "Long live the Emperor!" On quitting the -church they had fired off guns close to my ears and presented me with an -immense bouquet. Finally--I tell you this between ourselves--since eight -o'clock in the morning I had had on a pair of boots rather too tight for -me, and at the moment this narrative begins it was about half an hour -after midnight. - -I had spoken to every one except my dear little wife, whom they seemed to -take pleasure in keeping away from me. Once, however, on ascending the -steps, I had squeezed her hand on the sly. Even then this rash act had -cost me a look, half sharp and half sour, from my mother-in-law, which -had recalled me to a true sense of the situation. If, Monsieur, you -happen to have gone through a similar day of violent effusion and general -expansion, you will agree with me that during no other moment of your -life were you more inclined to irritability. - -What can you say to the cousins who kiss you, to the aunts who cling -round your neck and weep into your waistcoat, to all these smiling faces -ranged one beyond the other before you, to all those eyes which have been -staring at you for twelve hours past, to all those outbursts of affection -which you have not sought, but which claim a word from the heart in -reply? - -At the end of such a day one's very heart is foundered. You say to -yourself: "Come, is it all over? Is there yet a tear to wipe away, -a compliment to receive, an agitated hand to clasp? Is every one -satisfied? Have they seen enough of the bridegroom? Does any one want -any more of him? Can I at length give a thought to my own happiness, -think of my dear little wife who is waiting for me with her head buried -in the folds of her pillow? Who is waiting for me!" That flashes -through your mind all at once like a train of powder. You had not -thought of it. During the whole of the day this luminous side of the -question had remained veiled, but the hour approaches, at this very -moment the silken laces of her bodice are swishing as they are unloosed; -she is blushing, agitated, and dare not look at herself in the glass for -fear of noting her own confusion. Her aunt and her mother, her cousin -and her bosom friend, surround and smile at her, and it is a question of -who shall unhook her dress, remove the orange-blossoms from her hair, and -have the last kiss. - -Good! now come the tears; they are wiped away and followed by kisses. -The mother whispers something in her ear about a sacrifice, the future, -necessity, obedience, and finds means to mingle with these simple but -carefully prepared words the hope of celestial benedictions and of the -intercession of a dove or two hidden among the curtains. - -The poor child does not understand anything about it, except it be that -something unheard-of is about to take place, that the young man--she dare -not call him anything else in her thoughts--is about to appear as a -conqueror and address her in wondrous phrases, the very anticipation of -which makes her quiver with impatience and alarm. The child says not a -word--she trembles, she weeps, she quivers like a partridge in a furrow. -The last words of her mother, the last farewells of her family, ring -confusedly in her ears, but it is in vain that she strives to seize on -their meaning; her mind--where is that poor mind of hers? She really -does not know, but it is no longer under her control. - -"Ah! Captain," I said to myself, "what joys are hidden beneath these -alarms, for she loves you. Do you remember that kiss which she let you -snatch coming out of church that evening when the Abbe What's-his-name -preached so well, and those hand-squeezings and those softened glances, -and--happy Captain, floods of love will inundate you; she is awaiting -you!" - -Here I gnawed my moustache, I tore my gloves off and then put them on -again, I walked up and down the little drawing-room, I shifted the clock, -which stood on the mantel-shelf; I could not keep still. I had already -experienced such sensations on the morning of the assault on the -Malakoff. Suddenly the General, who was still going on with his eternal -game at ecarte with the prefect, turned round. - -"What a noise you are making, Georges!" said he. "Cards, if you please, -Prefect." - -"But, General, the fact is that I feel, I will not conceal from you, a -certain degree of emotion and--" - -"The king-one-and four trumps. My dear friend, you are not in luck," -said he to the prefect, and pulling up with an effort the white waistcoat -covering his stomach, he slipped some louis which were on the table L931 -into his fob; then bethinking himself, he added: "In fact, my poor -fellow, you think yourself bound to keep us company. It is late and we -have three leagues to cover from here to B. Every one has left, too." - -At last he departed. I can still see his thick neck, the back of which -formed a roll of fat over his ribbon of the Legion of Honor. I heard him -get into his carriage; he was still laughing at intervals. I could have -thrashed him. - -"At last!" I said to myself; "at last!" I mechanically glanced at -myself in the glass. I was crimson, and my boots, I am ashamed to say, -were horribly uncomfortable. I was furious that such a grotesque detail -as tight boots should at such a moment have power to attract my -attention; but I promised to be sincere, and I am telling you the whole -truth. - -Just then the clock struck one, and my mother-in-law made her appearance. -Her eyes were red, and her ungloved hand was crumpling up a handkerchief -visibly moistened. - -At the sight of her my first movement was one of impatience. I said to -myself, "I am in for a quarter of an hour of it at least." - -Indeed, Madame de C. sank down on a couch, took my hand, and burst into -tears. Amid her sobs she ejaculated, "Georges--my dear boy--Georges--my -son." - -I felt that I could not rise to the occasion. "Come, Captain," I said to -myself, "a tear; squeeze forth a tear. You can not get out of this -becomingly without a tear, or it will be, 'My son-in-law, it is all -off.'" - -When this stupid phrase, derived from I do not know where--a Palais Royal -farce, I believe--had once got into my head, it was impossible for me to -get rid of it, and I felt bursts of wild merriment welling up to my lips. - -"Calm yourself, Madame; calm yourself." - -"How can I, Georges? Forgive me, my dear boy." - -"Can you doubt me, Madame?" - -I felt that "Madame" was somewhat cold, but I was afraid of making Madame -de C. seem old by calling her "mother." I knew her to be somewhat of a -coquette. - -"Oh, I do not doubt your affection; go, my dear boy, go and make her -happy; yes, oh, yes! Fear nothing on my account; I am strong." - -Nothing is more unbearable than emotion when one does not share it. -I murmured "Mother!" feeling that after all she must appreciate such an -outburst; then approaching, I kissed her, and made a face in spite of -myself--such a salt and disagreeable flavor had been imparted to my -mother-in-law's countenance by the tears she had shed. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -THE HONEYMOON - -It had been decided that we should pass the first week of our honeymoon -at Madame de C.'s chateau. A little suite of apartments had been fitted -up for us, upholstered in blue chintz, delightfully cool-looking. The -term "cool-looking" may pass here for a kind of bad joke, for in reality -it was somewhat damp in this little paradise, owing to the freshly -repaired walls. - -A room had been specially reserved for me, and it was thither that, after -heartily kissing my dear mother-in-law, I flew up the stairs four at a -time. On an armchair, drawn in front of the fire, was spread out my -maroon velvet dressing-gown and close beside it were my slippers. I -could not resist, and I frantically pulled off my boots. Be that as it -may, my heart was full of love, and a thousand thoughts were whirling -through my head in frightful confusion. I made an effort, and reflected -for a moment on my position: - -"Captain," said I to myself, "the approaching moment is a solemn one. -On the manner in which you cross the threshold of married life depends -your future happiness. It is not a small matter to lay the first stone -of an edifice. A husband's first kiss"--I felt a thrill run down my -back--"a husband's first kiss is like the fundamental axiom that serves -as a basis for a whole volume. Be prudent, Captain. She is there beyond -that wall, the fair young bride, who is awaiting you; her ear on the -alert, her neck outstretched, she is listening to each of your movements. -At every creak of the boards she shivers, dear little soul." - -As I said this, I took off my coat and my cravat. "Your line of conduct -lies before you ready traced out," I added; "be impassioned with due -restraint, calm with some warmth, good, kind, tender; but at the same -time let her have a glimpse of the vivacities of an ardent affection and -the attractive aspect of a robust temperament." Suddenly I put my coat -on again. I felt ashamed to enter my wife's room in a dressing-gown and -night attire. Was it not equal to saying to her: "My dear, I am at home; -see how I make myself so"? It was making a show of rights which I did -not yet possess, so I rearranged my dress, and after the thousand details -of a careful toilette I approached the door and gave three discreet -little taps. Oh! I can assure you that I was all in a tremble, and my -heart was beating so violently that I pressed my hand to my chest to -restrain its throbs. - -She answered nothing, and after a moment of anguish I decided to knock -again. I felt tempted to say in an earnest voice, "It is I, dear; may I -come in?" But I also felt that it was necessary that this phrase should -be delivered in the most perfect fashion, and I was afraid of marring its -effect; I remained, therefore, with a smile upon my lips as if she had -been able to see me, and I twirled my moustache, which, without -affectation, I had slightly perfumed. - -I soon heard a faint cough, which seemed to answer me and to grant me -admission. Women, you see, possess that exquisite tact, that extreme -delicacy, which is wholly lacking to us. Could one say more cleverly, -in a more charming manner, "Come, I await you, my love, my spouse"? -Saint Peter would not have hit upon it. That cough was heaven opening to -me. I turned the handle, the door swept noiselessly over the soft -carpet. I was in my wife's room. - -A delightful warmth met me face to face, and I breathed a vague perfume -of violets and orris-root, or something akin, with which the air of the -room was laden. A charming disorder was apparent, the ball dress was -spread upon a lounging-chair, two candles were discreetly burning beneath -rose-colored shades. - -I drew near the bed where Louise was reposing, on the farther side of it, -with her face to the wall, and her head buried in the pillows. -Motionless and with closed eyes she appeared to be asleep, but her -heightened color betrayed her emotion. I must acknowledge that at that -moment I felt the most embarrassed of mankind. I resolved humbly to -request hospitality. That would be delicate and irreproachable. Oh! -you who have gone through these trials, search your memories and recall -that ridiculous yet delightful moment, that moment of mingled anguish and -joy, when it becomes necessary, without any preliminary rehearsal, to -play the most difficult of parts, and to avoid the ridicule which is -grinning at you from the folds of the curtains; to be at one and the same -time a diplomatist, a barrister, and a man of action, and by skill, tact, -and eloquence render the sternest of realities acceptable without -banishing the most ideal of dreams. - -I bent over the bed, and in the softest notes, the sweetest tones my -voice could compass, I murmured, "Well, darling?" - -One does what one can at such moments; I could not think of anything -better, and yet, Heaven knows, I had tried. - -No reply, and yet she was awake. I will admit that my embarrassment was -doubled. I had reckoned--I can say as much between ourselves--upon more -confidence and greater yielding. I had calculated on a moment of -effusiveness, full of modesty and alarm, it is true, but, at any rate, I -had counted upon such effusiveness, and I found myself strangely -disappointed. The silence chilled me. - -"You sleep very soundly, dear. Yet I have a great many things to say; -won't you talk a little?" - -As I spoke I--touched her shoulder with the tip of my finger, and saw her -suddenly shiver. - -"Come," said I; "must I kiss you to wake you up altogether?" - -She could not help smiling, and I saw that she was blushing. - -"Oh! do not be afraid, dear; I will only kiss the tips of your fingers -gently, like that," and seeing that she let me do so, I sat down on the -bed. - -She gave a little cry. I had sat down on her foot, which was straying -beneath the bedclothes. - -"Please let me go to sleep," she said, with a supplicating air; "I am so -tired." - -"And how about myself, my dear child? I am ready to drop. See, I am in -evening dress, and have not a pillow to rest my head on, not one, except -this one." I had her hand in mine, and I squeezed it while kissing it. -"Would you be very vexed to lend this pillow to your husband? Come, are -you going to refuse me a little bit of room? I am not troublesome, I can -assure you." - -I thought I noted a smile on her lips, and, impatient to escape from my -delicate position, in a moment I rose, and, while continuing to converse, -hastelessly and noiselessly undressed. I was burning my ships. When my -ships were burned there was absolutely nothing left for me to do but to -get into bed. - -Louise gave a little cry, then she threw herself toward the wall, and I -heard a kind of sob. - -I had one foot in bed and the other out, and remained petrified, a smile -on my lips, and supporting myself wholly on one arm. - -"What is the matter-dear; what is the matter? Forgive me if I have -offended you." - -I brought my head closer to her own, and, while inhaling the perfume of -her hair, whispered in her ear: - -"I love you, my dear child; I love you, little wife; don't you think that -I do?" - -She turned toward me her eyes, moistened with tears, and said in a voice -broken by emotion and so soft, so low, so tender, that it penetrated to -the marrow of my bones: - -"I love you, too. But let me sleep!" - -"Sleep, my loved angel; sleep fearlessly, my love. I am going away; -sleep while I watch over you," I said. - -Upon my honor I felt a sob rise to my throat, and yet the idea that my -last remark was not badly turned shot through my brain. I pulled the -coverings over her again and tucked her up like a child. I can still see -her rosy face buried in that big pillow, the curls of fair hair escaping -from under the lace of her little nightcap. With her left hand she held -the counterpane close up under her chin, and I saw on one of her fingers -the new and glittering wedding-ring I had given her that morning. She -was charming, a bird nestling in cottonwool, a rosebud fallen amid snow. -When she was settled I bent over her and kissed her on the forehead. - -"I am repaid," said I to her, laughing; "are you comfortable, Louise?" - -She did not answer, but her eyes met mine and I saw in them a smile which -seemed to thank me, but a smile so subtle that in any other circumstances -I should have seen a shadow of raillery in it. - -"Now, Captain, settle yourself in this armchair and goodnight!" I said -this to myself, and I made an effort to raise my unfortunate foot which I -had forgotten, a heroic effort, but it was impossible to accomplish it. -The leg was so benumbed that I could not move it. As well as I could I -hoisted myself upon the other leg, and, hobbling, reached my armchair -without appearing too lame. The room seemed to me twice as wide to cross -as the Champ de Mars, for hardly had I taken a step in its chilly -atmosphere--the fire had gone out, it was April, and the chateau -overlooked the Loire--when the cold reminded me of the scantiness of my -costume. What! to cross the room before that angel, who was doubtless -watching me, in the most grotesque of costumes, and with a helpless leg -into the bargain! Why had I forgotten my dressing-gown? However, I -reached the armchair, into which I sank. I seized my dress-coat which -was beside me, threw it over my shoulders, twisted my white cravat round -my neck, and, like a soldier bivouacking, I sought a comfortable -position. - -It would have been all very well without the icy cold that assailed my -legs, and I saw nothing in reach to cover me. I said to myself, -"Captain, the position is not tenable," when at length I perceived on the -couch--One sometimes is childishly ashamed, but I really dared not, and I -waited for a long minute struggling between a sense of the ridiculous and -the cold which I felt was increasing. At last, when I heard my wife's -breathing become more regular and thought that she must be asleep, I -stretched out my arm and pulled toward me her wedding-gown which was on -the couch--the silk rustled enough to wake the dead--and with the energy -which one always finds on an emergency, wrapped it round me savagely like -a railway rug. Then yielding to an involuntary fit of sybaritism, I -unhooked the bellows and tried to get the fire to burn. - -"After all," I said to myself, arranging the blackened embers and working -the little instrument with a thousand precautions, "after all, I have -behaved like a gentleman. If the General saw me at this moment he would -laugh in my face; but no matter, I have acted rightly." - -Had I not sworn to be sincere, I do not know whether I should acknowledge -to you that I suddenly felt horrible tinglings in the nasal regions. I -wished to restrain myself, but the laws of nature are those which one can -not escape. My respiration suddenly ceased, I felt a superhuman power -contract my facial muscles, my nostrils dilated, my eyes closed, and all -at once I sneezed with such violence that the bottle of Eau des Carmes -shook again. God forgive me! A little cry came from the bed, and -immediately afterward the most silvery frank and ringing outbreak of -laughter followed. Then she added in her simple, sweet, musical tones: - -"Have you hurt yourself--, Georges?" She had said Georges after a brief -silence, and in so low a voice that I scarcely heard it. - -"I am very ridiculous, am I not, dear? and you are quite right to laugh -at me. What would you have? I am camping out and I am undergoing the -consequences." - -"You are not ridiculous, but you are catching cold," and she began to -laugh again. - -"Naughty girl!" - -"Cruel one, you ought to say, and you would not be wrong if I were to let -you fall ill." She said this with charming grace. There was a mingling -of timidity and tenderness, modesty and raillery, which I find it -impossible to express, but which stupefied me. She smiled at me, then I -saw her move nearer to the wall in order to leave room for me, and, as I -hesitated to cross the room. - -"Come, forgive me," she said. - -I approached the bed; my teeth were chattering. - -"How kind you are to me, dear," she said to me after a moment or so; -"will you wish me good-night?" and she held out her cheek to me. I -approached nearer, but as the candle had just gone out I made a mistake -as to the spot, and my lips brushed hers. She quivered, then, after a -brief silence, she murmured in a low tone, "You must forgive me; you -frightened me so just now." - -"I wanted to kiss you, dear." - -"Well, kiss me, my husband." - -Within the trembling young girl the coquetry of the woman was breaking -forth in spite of herself. - -I could not help it; she exhaled a delightful perfume which mounted to my -brain, and the contact of this dear creature whom I touched, despite -myself, swept away all my resolutions. - -My lips--I do not know how it was--met hers, and we remained thus for a -long moment; I felt against my breast the echo of the beating heart, and -her rapid breathing came full into my face. - -"You do love me a little, dear?" I whispered in her ear. - -I distinguished amid a confused sigh a little "Yes!" that resembled a -mere breath. - -"I don't frighten you any longer?" - -"No," she murmured, very softly. - -"You will be my little wife, then, Louise; you will let me teach you to -love me as I love you?" - -"I do love you," said she, but so softly and so gently that she seemed to -be dreaming. - -How many times have we not laughed over these recollections, already so -remote. - - - - -ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: - -A ripe husband, ready to fall from the tree -Answer "No," but with a little kiss which means "Yes" -As regards love, intention and deed are the same -Clumsily, blew his nose, to the great relief of his two arms -Emotion when one does not share it -Hearty laughter which men affect to assist digestion -How rich we find ourselves when we rummage in old drawers -Husband who loves you and eats off the same plate is better -I came here for that express purpose -Ignorant of everything, undesirous of learning anything -It is silly to blush under certain circumstances -Love in marriage is, as a rule, too much at his ease -Rather do not give--make yourself sought after -Reckon yourself happy if in your husband you find a lover -There are pious falsehoods which the Church excuses -To be able to smoke a cigar without being sick -Why mankind has chosen to call marriage a man-trap - - - - -End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Monsieur, Madame, and Bebe, v1 -by Gustave Droz - - - - - - -MONSIEUR, MADAME AND BEBE - -By GUSTAVE DROZ - - - -BOOK 2. - - -CHAPTER XIII - -THE BLUE NOTE-BOOK - -Toward midnight mamma made a sign to me with her eyes, and under cover of -a lively waltz we slipped out of the drawing-room. In the hall the -servants, who were passing to and fro, drew aside to let us go by them, -but I felt that their eyes were fixed upon me with the curiosity which -had pursued me since the morning. The large door giving on to the park -was open, although the night was cool, and in the shadow I could make out -groups of country folk gathered there to catch a glimpse of the -festivities through the windows. These good people were laughing and -whispering; they were silent for a moment as we advanced to ascend the -staircase, but I once more felt that I was the mark of these inquisitive -looks and the object of all these smiles. The face of mamma, who -accompanied me, was much flushed, and large tears were flowing from her -eyes. - -How was it that an event so gay for some was so sad for others? - -When I think over it now I can hardly keep my countenance. What silly -terrors at that frightful yet charming moment! Yet, after all, one -exaggerates things a great deal. - -On reaching the first floor mamma stopped, choking, took my head in her -hands, and kissed me on the forehead, and exclaimed, "Valentine!" I was -not greatly moved by this outburst, knowing that mamma, since she has -grown a little too stout, has some difficulty in getting upstairs. -I judged, therefore, that the wish to take breath for a moment without -appearing to do so had something to do with this sudden halt. - -We entered the nuptial chamber; it was as coquettish as possible, -refreshing to the eye, snug, elegant, and adorned with fine Louis XVI -furniture, upholstered in Beauvais tapestry. The bed, above all, was a -marvel of elegance, but to tell the truth I had no idea of it till a week -later. At the outside it seemed to me that I was entering an austere- -looking locality; the very air we breathed appeared to me to have -something solemn and awe-striking about it. - -"Here is your room, child," said mamma; "but first of all come and sit -here beside me, my dear girl." - -At these words we both burst into tears, and mamma then expressed herself -as follows: - -"The kiss you are giving me, Valentine, is the last kiss that I shall -have from you as a girl. Your husband--for Georges is that now--" - -At these words I shuddered slightly, and by a singular freak of my brain -pictured to myself Monsieur Georges--Georges--my husband--in a cotton -night cap and a dressing-gown. The vision flashed across my mind in the -midst of the storm. I saw him just as plainly as if he had been there. -It was dreadful. The nightcap came over his forehead, down to his -eyebrows, and he said to me, pressing my hand; "At last, Valentine; you -are mine; do you love me? oh! tell me, do you love me?" And as his -head moved as he uttered these words, the horrible tuft at the end of his -nightcap waggled as an accompaniment. - -"No," I said to myself, "it is impossible for my husband to appear in -such a fashion; let me banish this image--and yet my father wears the -hideous things, and my brother, who is quite young, has them already. -Men wear them at all ages, unless though--" It is frightful to relate, -but Georges now appeared to me with a red-and-green bandanna handkerchief -tied round his head. I would have given ten years of my life to be two -hours older, and hurriedly passed my hand across my eyes to drive away -these diabolical visions. - -However, mamma, who had been still speaking all the time, attributing -this movement to the emotion caused by her words, said, with great -sweetness: - -"Do not be alarmed, my dear Valentine; perhaps I am painting the picture -in too gloomy colors; but my experience and my love render this duty -incumbent upon me." - -I have never heard mamma express herself so fluently. I was all the more -surprised as, not having heard a word of what she had already said, this -sentence seemed suddenly sprung upon me. Not knowing what to answer, -I threw myself into the arms of mamma, who, after a minute or so, put me -away gently, saying, "You are suffocating me, dear." - -She wiped her eyes with her little cambric handkerchief, which was damp, -and said, smilingly: - -"Now that I have told you what my conscience imposed on me, I am strong. -See, dear, I think that I can smile. Your husband, my dear child, is a -man full of delicacy. Have confidence; accept all without misgiving." - -Mamma kissed me on the forehead, which finished off her sentence, and -added: - -"Now, dear one, I have fulfilled a duty I regarded as sacred. Come here -and let me take your wreath off." - -"By this time," I thought, "they have noticed that I have left the -drawing-room. They are saying, 'Where is the bride?' and smiling, -'Monsieur Georges is getting uneasy. What is he doing? what is he -thinking? where is he?'" - -"Have you tried on your nightcap, dear?" said mamma, who had recovered -herself; "it looks rather small to me, but is nicely embroidered. Oh, it -is lovely!" - -And she examined it from every point of view. - -At that moment there was a knock at the door. "It is I," said several -voices, among which I distinguished the flute-like tones of my aunt -Laura, and those of my godmother. Madame de P., who never misses a -chance of pressing her two thick lips to some one's cheeks, accompanied -them. Their eyes glittered, and all three had a sly and triumphant look, -ferreting and inquisitive, which greatly intimidated me. Would they also -set about fulfilling a sacred duty? - -"Oh, you are really too pretty, my angel!" said Madame de P., kissing me -on the forehead, after the moist fashion peculiar to her, and then -sitting down in the large Louis XVI armchair. - -My maid had not been allowed to undress me, so that all of them, taking -off their gloves, set to work to render me this service. They tangled -the laces, caught their own lace in the hooks, and laughed heartily all -the while. - -"It is the least that the oldest friend of the family," --she loved to -speak of herself as such-- "should make herself useful at such a moment," -muttered Madame de P., holding her eyeglass in one hand and working with -the other. - -I passed into a little boudoir to complete my toilette for the night, -and found on the marble of the dressing-table five or six bottles of -scent, tied up with red, white, and blue ribbons--an act of attention on -the part of my Aunt Laura. I felt the blood flying to my head; there was -an unbearable singing in my ears. Now that I can coolly weigh the -impressions I underwent, I can tell that what I felt above all was anger. -I would have liked to be in the farthest depths of the wildest forest in -America, so unseemly did I find this curious kindness which haunted me -with its attentions. I should have liked to converse a little with -myself, to fathom my own emotion somewhat, and, in short, to utter a -brief prayer before throwing myself into the torrent. - -However, through the open door, I could hear the four ladies whispering -together and stifling their outbursts of laughter; I had never seen them -so gay. I made up my mind. I crossed the room, and, shaking off the -pretty little white slippers which my mother had embroidered for me, -jumped into bed. I was not long in finding out that it was no longer my -own narrow little bed. It was immense, and I hesitated a moment, not -knowing which way to turn. I felt nevertheless a feeling of physical -comfort. The bed was warm, and I do not know what scent rose from its -silken coverlet. I felt myself sink into the mass of feathers, the -pillows, twice over too large and trimmed with embroidery, gave way as it -were beneath me, burying me in a soft and perfumed abyss. - -At length the ladies rose, and after giving a glance round the room, -doubtless to make sure that nothing was lacking, approached the bed. - -"Good-night, my dear girl," said my mother, bending over me. - -She kissed me, carried her handkerchief, now reduced to a wet dab, to her -eyes, and went out with a certain precipitation. - -"Remember that the old friend of the family kissed you on this night, my -love," said Madame de P., as she moistened my forehead. - -"Come, my little lamb, good-night and sleep well," said my aunt, with her -smile that seemed to issue from her nose. She added in a whisper: "You -love him, don't you? The slyboots! she won't answer! Well, since you -love him so much, don't tell him so, my dear. But I must leave you; you -are sleepy. Goodnight." - -And she went away, smiling. - -At length I was alone. I listened; the doors were being closed, I heard -a carriage roll along the road; the flame of the two candles placed upon -the mantelshelf quivered silently and were reflected in the looking- -glass. - -I thought about the ceremony of that morning, the dinner, the ball. -I said to myself, clenching my fists to concentrate my thoughts: "How was -Marie dressed? She was dressed in--dressed in--dressed in--" I repeated -the words aloud to impart more authority to them and oblige my mind to -reply; but do what I would, it was impossible for me to drive away the -thought that invaded my whole being. - -"He is coming. What is he doing? Where is he? Perhaps he is on the -stairs now. How shall I receive him when he comes?" - -I loved him; oh! with my whole soul, I can acknowledge it now; but I -loved him quite at the bottom of my heart. In order to think of him I -went down into the very lowest chamber of my heart, bolted the door, and -crouched down in the darkest corner. - -At last, at a certain moment, the floor creaked, a door was opened in the -passage with a thousand precautions, and I heard the tread of a boot--a -boot! - -The boot ceased to creak, and I heard quite close to me, on the other -side of the wall, which was nothing but a thin partition, an armchair -being rolled across the carpet, and then a little cough, which seemed to -me to vibrate with emotion. It was he! But for the partition I could -have touched him with my finger. A few moments later I could distinguish -the almost imperceptible sound of footsteps on the carpet; this faint -sound rang violently in my head. All at once my breathing and my heart -both stopped together; there was a tap at the door. The tapping was -discreet, full of entreaty and delicacy. I wanted to reply, "Come in," -but I had no longer any voice; and, besides, was it becoming to answer -like that, so curtly and plainly? I thought "Come in" would sound -horribly unseemly, and I said nothing. There was another tap. I should -really have preferred the door to have been broken open with a hatchet or -for him to have come down the chimney. In my agony I coughed faintly -among my sheets. That was enough; the door opened, and I divined from -the alteration in the light shed by the candles that some one at whom I -did not dare look was interposing between them and myself. - -This some one, who seemed to glide across the carpet, drew near the bed, -and I could distinguish out of the corner of my eye his shadow on the -wall. I could scarcely restrain my joy; my Captain wore neither cotton -nightcap nor bandanna handkerchief. That was indeed something. However, -in this shadow which represented him in profile, his nose had so much -importance that amid all my uneasiness a smile flitted across my lips. -Is it not strange how all these little details recur to your mind? I did -not dare turn round, but I devoured with my eyes this shadow representing -my husband; I tried to trace in it the slightest of his gestures; I even -sought the varying expressions of his physiognomy, but, alas! in vain. - -I do not know how to express in words all that I felt at that moment; my -pen seems too clumsy to write my sensations, and, besides, did I really -see deep into my heart? - -Do men comprehend all this? Do they understand that the heart requires -gradual changes, and that if a half-light awakens, a noon-day blaze -dazzles and burns? It is not that the poor child, who is trembling in -a corner, refuses to learn; far from that, she has aptitude, good-will, -and a quick and ready intelligence; she knows she has reached the age at -which it is necessary to know how to read; she rejects neither the -science nor even the teacher. It is the method of instruction that makes -her uneasy. She is afraid lest this young professor, whose knowledge is -so extensive, should turn over the pages of the book too quickly and -neglect the A B C. - -A few hours back he was the submissive, humble lover, ready to kneel down -before her, hiding his knowledge as one hides a sin, speaking his own -language with a thousand circumspections. At any moment it might have -been thought that he was going to blush. She was a queen, he a child; -and now all at once the roles are changed; it is the submissive subject -who arrives in the college cap of a professor, hiding under his arm an -unknown and mysterious book. Is the man in the college cap about to -command, to smile, to obtrude himself and his books, to speak Latin, to -deliver a lecture? - -She does not know that this learned individual is trembling, too; that he -is greatly embarrassed over his opening lesson, that emotion has caused -him to forget his Latin, that his throat is parched and his legs are -trembling beneath him. She does not know this, and I tell you between -ourselves, it is not her self-esteem that suffers least at this -conjecture. She suffers at finding herself, after so many signatures, -contracts, and ceremonies-still a charming child, and nothing more. - -I believe that the first step in conjugal life will, according to the -circumstances accompanying it, give birth to captivating sympathies or -invincible repulsion. But to give birth to these sympathies, to strike -the spark that is to set light to this explosion of infinite gratitude -and joyful love--what art, what tact, what delicacy, and at the same time -what presence of mind are needed. - -How was it that at the first word Georges uttered my terrors vanished? -His voice was so firm and so sweet, he asked me so gayly for leave to -draw near the fire and warm his feet, and spoke to me with such ease and -animation of the incidents of the day. I said to myself, "It is -impossible for the least baseness to be hidden under all this." -In presence of so much good-humor and affability my scaffolding fell to -pieces. I ventured a look from beneath the sheets: I saw him comfortably -installed in the big armchair, and I bit my lips. I am still at a loss -to understand this little fit of ill-temper. When one is reckoning on a -fright, one is really disappointed at its delaying itself. Never had -Georges been more witty, more affectionate, more well-bred; he was still -the man of the day before. He must really have been very excited. - -"You are tired out, I am certain, darling," he said. - -The word "darling" made me start, but did not frighten me; it was the -first time he had called me so, but I really could not refuse him the -privilege of speaking thus. However it may be, I maintained my reserve, -and in the same tone as one replies, "No thanks, I don't take tea," -I answered: - -"Oh, yes! I am worn out." - -"I thought so," he added, approaching the bed; "you can not keep your -eyes open; you can not even look at me, my dear little wife." - -"I will leave you," continued he. "I will leave you; you need repose." -And he drew still more closely to me, which was not natural. Then, -stretching out his hand, which I knew was white and well cared for: -"Won't you give me a little shake of the hand, dear? I am half asleep, -too, my pretty little wife." His face wore an expression which was -alarming, though not without its charm; as he said this, I saw clearly -that he had lied to me like a demon, and that he was no more sleepy than -I was. - -However that may be, I was guilty of the fault, the carelessness that -causes disaster, of letting him take my hand, which was straying by -chance under the lace of the pillows. - -I was that evening in a special condition of nervous sensibility, for at -this contact a strange sensation ran through me from head to foot. It -was not that the Captain's hand had the softness of satin--I believe that -physical sensations, in us women, have causes directly contrary to those -which move men; for that which caused me such lively emotion was -precisely its firmness. There was something strong, manly, and powerful -about it. He squeezed my hand rather strongly. - -My rings, which I have a fancy for wearing all at once, hurt me, and-- -I really should not have believed it--I liked it very much, perhaps too -much. For the first time I found an inexplicable, an almost -intoxicating, charm in this intimate contact with a being who could have -crushed me between his fingers, and that in the middle of the night too, -in silence, without any possibility of help. It was horribly delicious. - -I did not withdraw my hand, which he kissed, but lingeringly. The clock -struck two, and the last sound had long since died away when his lips -were still there, quivering with rapid little movements, which were so -many imperceptible kisses, moist, warm, burning. I felt gleams of fire -flashing around me. I wished to draw away my hand, but could not; I -remember perfectly well that I could not. His moustache pricked me, and -whiffs of the scent with which he perfumed it reached me and completed my -trouble. I felt my nostrils dilating despite myself, and, striving but -in vain to take refuge in my inmost being, I exclaimed inwardly: "Protect -me, Lord, but this time with all your might. A drop of water, Lord; a -drop of water!" I waited--no appreciable succor reached from above. It -was not till a week afterward that I understood the intentions of -Providence. - -"You told me you were sleepy," I murmured, in a trembling voice. I was -like a shipwrecked person clutching at a floating match-box; I knew quite -well that the Captain would not go away. - -"Yes, I was sleepy, pet," said Georges, approaching his face to mine; -"but now I am athirst." He put his lips to my ear and whispered softly, -"Athirst for a kiss from you, love." - -This "love" was the beginning of another life. The spouse now appeared, -the past was fleeing away, I was entering on the future. At length I had -crossed the frontier; I was in a foreign land. Oh! I acknowledge--for -what is the use of feigning?--that I craved for this love, and I felt -that it engrossed me and spread itself through me. I felt that I was -getting out of my depth, I let go the last branch that held me to the -shore, and to myself I repeated: "Yes, I love you; yes, I am willing to -follow you; yes, I am yours, love, love, love!" - -"Won't you kiss your husband; come, won't you?" - -And his mouth was so near my own that it seemed to meet my lips. - -"Yes," said I. - - ............................. - -August 7th, 185- How many times have I not read through you during the -last two years, my little blue note-book! How many things I might add as -marginal notes if you were not doomed to the flames, to light my first -fire this autumn! How could I have written all this, and how is it that -having done so I have not dared to complete my confidences! No one has -seen you, at any rate; no one has turned your pages. Go back into your -drawer, dear, with, pending the first autumn fire, a kiss from your -Valentine. - -NOTE.--Owing to what circumstances this blue note-book, doomed to the -flames, was discovered by me in an old Louis XVI chiffonnier I had just -bought does not greatly matter to you, dear reader, and would be out of -my power to explain even if it did. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE BLUE NOTE-BOOK AGAIN - -Only to think that I was going to throw you into the fire, poor dear! -Was I not foolish? In whom else could I confide? If I had not you, -to whom could I tell all those little things at which every one laughs, -but which make you cry! - -This evening, for instance, I dined alone, for Georges was invited out; -well, to whom else can I acknowledge that when I found myself alone, -face to face with a leg of mutton, cooked to his liking, and with the -large carving-knife which is usually beside his plate, before me, I began -to cry like a child? To whom else can I admit that I drank out of the -Bohemian wine-glass he prefers, to console me a little? - -But if I were to mention this they would laugh in my face. Father -Cyprien himself, who nevertheless has a heart running over with kindness, -would say to me: - -"Let us pass that by, my dear child; let us pass that by." - -I know him so well, Father Cyprien; while you, you always listen to me, -my poor little note-book; if a tear escapes me, you kindly absorb it and -retain its trace like a good-hearted friend. Hence I love you. - -And, since we are tete-a-tete, let us have a chat. You won't be angry -with me for writing with a pencil, dear. You see I am very comfortably -settled in my big by-by and I do not want to have any ink-stains. The -fire sparkles on the hearth, the street is silent; let us forget that -George will not return till midnight, and turn back to the past. - -I can not recall the first month of that dear past without laughing and -weeping at one and the same time. - -How foolish we were! How sweet it was! There is a method of teaching -swimming which is not the least successful, I am told. It consists in -throwing the future swimmer into the water and praying God to help him. -I am assured that after the first lesson he keeps himself afloat. - -Well, I think that we women are taught to be wives in very much the same -fashion. - -Happy or otherwise--the point is open to discussion marriage is a -hurricane--something unheard-of and alarming. - -In a single night, and without any transition, everything is transformed -and changes color; the erst while-cravatted, freshly curled, carefully -dressed gentleman makes his appearance in a dressing-gown. That which -was prohibited becomes permissible, the code is altered, and words -acquire a meaning they never had before, et cetera, et cetera. - -It is not that all this is so alarming, if taken the right way--a woman -with some courage in her heart and some flexibility in her mind supports -the shock and does not die under it; but the firmest of us are amazed at -it, and stand open-mouthed amid all these strange novelties, like a -penniless gourmand in the shop of Potel and Chabot. - -They dare not touch these delicacies surrounding them, though invited to -taste. It is not that the wish or the appetite is lacking to them, but -all these fine fruits have been offered them so lately that they have -still the somewhat acid charm of green apples or forbidden fruit. They -approach, but they hesitate to bite. - -After all, why complain? What would one have to remember if one had -entered married life like an inn, if one had not trembled a little when -knocking at the door? And it is so pleasant to recall things, that one -would sometimes like to deck the future in the garments of the past. - -It was, I recollect, two days after the all-important one. I had gone -into his room, I no longer remember why--for the pleasure of going in, -I suppose, and thereby acting as a wife. A strong desire is that which -springs up in your brain after leaving church to look like an old married -woman. You put on caps with ribbons, you never lay aside your cashmere -shawl, you talk of "my home"--two sweet words--and then you bite your -lips to keep from breaking out into a laugh; and "my husband," and "my -maid," and the first dinner you order, when you forget the soup. All -this is charming, and, however ill at ease you may feel at first in all -these new clothes, you are quite eager to put them on. - -So I had gone into the dressing-room of my husband, who, standing before -the glass, very lightly clad, was prosaically shaving. - -"Excuse me, dear," said he, laughing, and he held up his shaving-brush, -covered with white lather. "You will pardon my going on with this. Do -you want anything?" - -"I came, on the contrary," I answered, "to see whether you had need of -anything;" and, greatly embarrassed myself, for I was afraid of being -indiscreet, and I was not sure whether one ought to go into one's -husband's room like this, I added, innocently, "Your shirts have buttons, -have they not?" - -"Oh, what a good little housewife I have married! Do not bother yourself -about such trifles, my pet. I will ask your maid to look after my -buttons," said he. - -I felt confused; I was afraid of appealing too much of a schoolgirl in -his eyes. He went on working his soap into a lather with his shaving- -brush. I wanted to go away, but I was interested in such a novel fashion -by the sight of my husband, that I had not courage to do so. His neck -was bare--a thick, strong neck, but very white and changing its shape at -every movement--the muscles, you know. It would have been horrible in a -woman, that neck, and yet it did not seem ugly to me. Nor was it -admiration that thus inspired me; it was rather like gluttony. I wanted -to touch it. His hair, cut very short--according to regulation--grew -very low, and between its beginning and the ear there was quite a smooth -white place. The idea at once occurred to me that if ever I became brave -enough, it was there that I should kiss him oftenest; it was strange, -that presentiment, for it is in fact on that little spot that I-- - -He stopped short. I fancied I understood that he was afraid of appearing -comical in my eyes, with his face smothered in lather; but he was wrong. -I felt myself all in a quiver at being beside a man--the word man is -rather distasteful to me, but I can not find another, for husband would -not express my thoughts--at being beside a man in the making of his -toilette. I should have liked him to go on without troubling himself; -I should have liked to see how he managed to shave himself without -encroaching on his moustache, how he made his parting and brushed his -hair with the two round brushes I saw on the table, what use he made of -all the little instruments set out in order on the marble-tweezers, -scissors, tiny combs, little pots and bottles with silver tops, and a -whole arsenal of bright things, that aroused quite a desire to beautify -one's self. - -I should have liked him while talking to attend to the nails of his -hands, which I was already very fond of; or, better still, to have handed -them over to me. How I should have rummaged in the little corners, cut, -filed, arranged all that. - -"Well, dear, what are you looking at me like that for?" said he, -smiling. - -I lowered my eyes at once, and felt that I was blushing. I was uneasy, -although charmed, amid these new surroundings. I did not know what to -answer, and mechanically I dipped the tip of my finger into the little -china pot in which the soap was being lathered. - -"What is the matter, darling?" said he, approaching his face to mine; -"have I offended you?" - -I don't know what strange idea darted through my mind, but I suddenly -took my hand from the pot and stuck the big ball of lather at the end of -my finger on the tip of his nose. He broke out into a hearty laugh, and -so did I; though I trembled for a moment, lest he should be angry. - -"So that's the way in which you behave to a captain in the lancers? You -shall pay for this, you wicked little darling;" and, taking the shaving -brush in his hand, he chased me round the room. I dodged round the -table, I took refuge behind the armchair, upsetting his boots with my -skirt, getting the tongs at the same time entangled in it. Passing the -sofa, I noticed his uniform laid out--he had to wait on the General that -morning--and, seizing his schapska, I made use of it as a buckler. But -laughter paralyzed me, and besides, what could a poor little woman do -against a soldier, even with a buckler? - -He ended by catching me--the struggle was a lovely one. It was all very -well for me to scream, as I threw my head backward over the arm by which -he clasped me; I none the less saw the frightful brush, like a big -snowball, at the end of a little stick, come nearer and yet nearer. - -But he was merciful; he was satisfied with daubing a little white spot on -my chin and exclaiming, "The cavalry have avenged themselves." - -Seizing the brush in turn, I said to him roguishly, "Captain, let me -lather your face," for I did so want to do that. - -In answer, he held his face toward me, and, observing that I was obliged -to stand on the tips of my toes and to support myself a little on his -shoulder, he knelt down before me and yielded his head to me. - -With the tip of my finger I made him bend his face to the right and the -left, backward and forward, and I lathered and lathered, giggling like a -schoolgirl. It amused me so to see my Captain obey me like a child; -I would have given I don't know what if he had only had his sword and -spurs on at that moment. Unfortunately, he was in his slippers. I -spread the lather over his nose and forehead; he closed his eyes and put -his two arms round me, saying: - -"Go on, my dear, go on; but see that you don't put any into my mouth." - -At that moment I experienced a very strange feeling. My laughter died -away all at once; I felt ashamed at seeing my husband at my feet and at -thus amusing myself with him as if he were a doll. - -I dropped the shaving-brush; I felt my eyes grow moist; and, suddenly, -becoming more tender, I bent toward him and kissed him on the neck, which -was the only spot left clear. - -Yet his ear was so near that, in passing it, my lips moved almost in -spite of myself, and I whispered: - -"Don't be angry, dear," then, overcome by emotion and repentance, -I added: "I love you, I do love you." - -"My own pet!" he said, rising suddenly. His voice shook. - -What delightful moments these were! Unfortunately, oh! yes, indeed, -unfortunately, he could not press his lathered face to mine! - -"Wait a little," he exclaimed, darting toward the washbasin, full of -water, "wait an instant!" - -But it seemed as if it took him a week to wash it off. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -MY WIFE GOES TO A DANCE - -Madame--Ah! it is so nice of you to come home early! (Looking at the -clock.) A quarter to six. But how cold you are! your hands are frozen; -come and sit by the fire. (She puts a log on the fire.) I have been -thinking of you all day. It is cruel to have to go out in such weather. -Have you finished your doubts? are you satisfied? - -Monsieur--Quite well satisfied, dear. (Aside.) But I have never known my -wife to be so amiable. (Aloud, taking up the bellows.) Quite well -satisfied, and I am very hungry. Has my darling been good? - -Madame--You are hungry. Good! (Calling out.) Marie, call into the -kitchen that your master wants to dine early. Let them look after -everything--and send up a lemon. - -Monsieur--A mystery? - -Madame--Yes, Monsieur, I have a little surprise for you, and I fancy that -it will delight you. - -Monsieur--Well, what is the surprise? - -Madame--Oh! it is a real surprise. How curious you look! your eyes are -glittering already. Suppose I were not to tell you anything? - -Monsieur--Then you would vex me very much. - -Madame--There, I don't want to vex you. You are going to have some -little green oysters and a partridge. Am I good? - -Monsieur--Oysters and a partridge! You are an angel. (He kisses her.) -An angel. (Aside.) What on earth is the matter with her? (Aloud.) Have -you had visitors to-day? - -Madame--I saw Ernestine this morning, but she only stayed a moment. She -has just discharged her maid. Would you believe it, that girl was seen -the night before last dressed up as a man, and in her master's clothes, -too! That was going too far. - -Monsieur--That comes of having confidential servants. And you just got a -sight of Ernestine? - -Madame--And that was quite enough, too. (With an exclamation.) How -stupid I am! I forgot. I had a visit from Madame de Lyr as well. - -Monsieur--God bless her! But does she still laugh on one side of her -mouth to hide her black tooth? - -Madame-How cruel you are! Yet, she likes you very well. Poor woman! -I was really touched by her visit. She came to remind me that we-- -now you will be angry. (She kisses him and sits down beside him.) - -Monsieur--Be angry! be angry! I'm not a Turk. Come, what is it? - -Madame--Come, we shall go to dinner. You know that there are oysters and -a partridge. I won't tell you--you are already in a bad temper. -Besides, I all but told her that we are not going. - -Monsieur--(raising his hands aloft)--I thought so. She and her evening -may go to the dogs. What have I done to this woman that she should so -pester me? - -Madame--But she thinks she is affording you pleasure. She is a charming -friend. As for me, I like her because she always speaks well of you. -If you had been hidden in that cabinet during her visit, you could not -have helped blushing. (He shrugs his shoulders.) "Your husband is so -amiable," she said to me, "so cheery, so witty. Try to bring him; it is -an honor to have him." I said, "Certainly," but without meaning it, you -know. But I don't care about it at all. It is not so very amusing at -Madame de Lyr's. She always invites such a number of serious people. No -doubt they are influential people, and may prove useful, but what does -that matter to me? Come to dinner. You know that there is a bottle left -of that famous Pomard; I have kept it for your partridge. You can not -imagine what pleasure I feel in seeing you eat a partridge. You eat it -with such a gusto. You are a glutton, my dear. (She takes his arm.) -Come, I can hear your rascal of a son getting impatient in the dining- -room. - -Monsieur--(with a preoccupied air)--Hum! and when is it? - -Madame--When is what? - -Monsieur--The party, of course. - -Madame--Ah! you mean the ball--I was not thinking of it. Madame de Lyr's -ball. Why do you ask me that, since we are not going? Let us make -haste, dinner is getting cold . . . . This evening. - -Monsieur--(stopping short)--What! this party is a ball, and this ball is -for this evening. But, hang it! people don't invite you to a ball like -that. They always give notice some time beforehand. - -Madame--But she sent us an invitation a week ago, though I don't know -what became of the card. I forgot to show it to you. - -Monsieur--You forgot! you forgot! - -Madame--Well, it is all for the best; I know you would have been sulky -all the week after. Come to dinner. - -They sat down to table. The cloth was white, the cutlery bright, the -oysters fresh; the partridge, cooked to perfection, exhaled a delightful -odor. Madame was charming, and laughed at everything. Monsieur unbent -his brows and stretched himself on the chair. - -Monsieur--This Pomard is very good. Won't you have some, little dear? - -Madame--Yes, your little dear will. (She pushes forward her glass with a -coquettish movement.) - -Monsieur--Ah! you have put on your Louis Seize ring. It is a very pretty -ring. - -Madame--(putting her hand under her husband's nose)--Yes; but look--see, -there is a little bit coming off. - -Monsieur--(kissing his wife's hand)--Where is the little bit? - -Madame--(smiling)--You jest at everything. I am speaking seriously. -There--look--it is plain enough! (They draw near once another and bend -their heads together to see it.) Don't you see it? (She points out a -spot on the ring with a rosy and slender finger.) There! do you see now ---there? - -Monsieur--That little pearl which--What on earth have you been putting on -your hair, my dear? It smells very nice--You must send it to the -jeweller. The scent is exquisite. Curls don't become you badly. - -Madame--Do you think so? (She adjusts her coiffure with her white hand.) -I thought you would like that scent; now, if I were in your place I -should-- - -Monsieur--What would you do in my place, dear? - -Madame--I should--kiss my wife. - -Monsieur--(kissing her)--Well, I must say you have very bright ideas -sometimes. Give me a little bit more partridge, please. (With his mouth -full.) How pretty these poor little creatures look when running among the -corn. You know the cry they give when the sun sets?--A little gravy.-- -There are moments when the poetic side of country life appeals to one. -And to think that there are barbarians who eat them with cabbage. But -(filling his glass) have you a gown ready? - -Madame--(with innocent astonishment.)--What for, dear? - -Monsieur--Why, for Madame de Lyr's-- - -Madame--For the ball?--What a memory you have--There you are still -thinking of it--No, I have not--ah! yes, I have my tarletan, you know; -but then a woman needs so little to make up a ball-room toilette. - -Monsieur--And the hairdresser, has he been sent for? - -Madame--No, he has not been sent for; but I am not anxious to go to this -ball. We will settle down by the fireside, read a little, and go to bed -early. You remind me, however, that, on leaving, Madame de Lyr did say, -"Your hairdresser is the same as mine, I will send him word." How stupid -I am; I remember now that I did not answer her. But it is not far, I can -send Marie to tell him not to come. - -Monsieur--Since this blessed hairdresser has been told, let him come and -we will go and--amuse ourselves a little at Madame de Lyr's. But on one -condition only; that I find all my dress things laid out in readiness on -my bed with my gloves, you know, and that you tie my necktie. - -Madame--A bargain. (She kisses him.) You are a jewel of a husband. I am -delighted, my poor dear, because I see you are imposing a sacrifice upon -yourself in order to please me; since, as to the ball itself, I am quite -indifferent about it. I did not care to go; really now I don't care to -go. - -Monsieur--Hum. Well, I will go and smoke a cigar so as not to be in your -way, and at ten o'clock I will be back here. Your preparations will be -over and in five minutes I shall be dressed. Adieu. - -Madame--Au revoir. - -Monsieur, after reaching the street, lit his cigar and buttoned up his -great-coat. Two hours to kill. It seems a trifle when one is busy, but -when one has nothing to do it is quite another thing. The pavement is -slippery, rain is beginning to fall--fortunately the Palais Royal is not -far off. At the end of his fourteenth tour round the arcades, Monsieur -looks at his watch. Five minutes to ten, he will be late. He rushes -home. - -In the courtyard the carriage is standing waiting. - -In the bedroom two unshaded lamps shed floods of light. Mountains of -muslin and ribbons are piled on the bed and the furniture. Dresses, -skirts, petticoats, and underpetticoats, lace, scarfs, flowers, jewels, -are mingled in a charming chaos. On the table there are pots of pomade, -sticks of cosmetic, hairpins, combs and brushes, all carefully set out. -Two artificial plaits stretch themselves languishingly upon a dark mass -not unlike a large handful of horsehair. A golden hair net, combs of -pale tortoise-shell and bright coral, clusters of roses, sprays of white -lilac, bouquets of pale violets, await the choice of the artist or the -caprice of the beauty. And yet, must I say it? amidst this luxury of -wealth Madame's hair is undressed, Madame is uneasy, Madame is furious. - -Monsieur--(looking at his watch)--Well, my dear, is your hair dressed? - -Madame--(impatiently)--He asks me whether my hair is dressed? Don't you -see that I have been waiting for the hairdresser for an hour and a half? -Can't you see that I am furious, for he won't come, the horrid wretch? - -Monsieur--The monster! - -Madame--Yes, the monster; and I would advise you not to joke about it. - -There is a ring. The door opens and the lady's-maid exclaims, "It is he, -Madame!" - -Madame--It is he! - -Monsieur--It is he! - -The artist enters hurriedly and bows while turning his sleeves up. - -Madame--My dear Silvani, this is unbearable. - -Silvani--Very sorry, very, but could not come any sooner. I have been -dressing hair since three o'clock in the afternoon. I have just left the -Duchesse de W., who is going to the Ministry this evening. She sent me -home in her brougham. Lisette, give me your mistress's combs, and put -the curling-tongs in the fire. - -Madame--But, my dear Silvani, my maid's name is not Lisette. - -Silvani--You will understand, Madame, that if I had to remember the names -of all the lady's-maids who help me, I should need six clerks instead of -four. Lisette is a pretty name which suits all these young ladies very -well. Lisette, show me your mistress's dress. Good. Is the ball an -official one? - -Madame--But dress my hair, Silvani. - -Silvani--It is impossible for me to dress your hair, Madame, unless I -know the circle in which the coiffure will be worn. (To the husband, -seated in the corner.) May I beg you, Monsieur, to take another place? -I wish to be able to step back, the better to judge the effect. - -Monsieur--Certainly, Monsieur Silvani, only too happy to be agreeable to -you. (He sits down on a chair.) - -Madame--(hastily)--Not there, my dear, you will rumple my skirt. (The -husband gets up and looks for another seat.) Take care behind you, you -are stepping on my bustle. - -Monsieur--(turning round angrily)--Her bustle! her bustle! - -Madame--Now you go upsetting my pins. - -Silvani--May I beg a moment of immobility, Madame? - -Monsieur--Come, calm yourself, I will go into the drawing-room; is there -a fire there? - -Madame--(inattentively)--But, my dear, how can you expect a fire to be in -the drawing-room? - -Monsieur--I will go to my study, then. - -Madame--There is none there, either. What do you want a fire in your -study for? What a singular idea! High up, you know, Silvani, and a dash -of disorder, it is all the rage. - -Silvani--Would you allow a touch of brown under the eyes? That would -enable me to idealize the coiffure. - -Monsieur--(impatiently)--Marie, give me my top-coat and my cap. I will -walk up and down in the anteroom. (Aside.) Madame de Lyr shall pay for -this. - -Silvani--(crimping)--I leave your ear uncovered, Madame; it would be a -sin to veil it. It is like that of the Princesse de K., whose hair I -dressed yesterday. Lisette, get the powder ready. Ears like yours, -Madame, are not numerous. - -Madame--You were saying-- - -Silvani--Would your ear, Madame, be so modest as not to listen? - -Madame's hair is at length dressed. Silvani sheds a light cloud of -scented powder over his work, on which he casts a lingering look of -satisfaction, then bows and retires. - -In passing through the anteroom, he runs against Monsieur, who is walking -up and down. - -Silvani--A thousand pardons, I have the honor to wish you good night. - -Monsieur--(from the depths of his turned-up collar) Good-night. - -A quarter of an hour later the sound of a carriage is heard. Madame is -ready, her coiffure suits her, she smiles at herself in the glass as she -slips the glove-stretchers into the twelve-button gloves. - -Monsieur has made a failure of his necktie and broken off three buttons. -Traces of decided ill-humor are stamped on his features. - -Monsieur--Come, let us go down, the carriage is waiting; it is a quarter -past eleven. (Aside.) Another sleepless night. Sharp, coachman; Rue de -la Pepiniere, number 224. - -They reach the street in question. The Rue de la Pepiniere is in a -tumult. Policemen are hurriedly making way through the crowd. In the -distance, confused cries and a rapidly approaching, rumbling sound are -heard. Monsieur thrusts his head out of the window. - -Monsieur--What is it, Jean? - -Coachman--A fire, Monsieur; here come the firemen. - -Monsieur--Go on all the same to number 224. - -Coachman--We are there, Monsieur; the fire is at number 224. - -Doorkeeper of the House--(quitting a group of people and approaching the -carriage)--You are, I presume, Monsieur, one of the guests of Madame de -Lyr? She is terror-stricken; the fire is in her rooms. She can not -receive any one. - -Madame--(excitedly)--It is scandalous. - -Monsieur--(humming)--Heart-breaking, heartbreaking! (To the coachman.) -Home again, quickly; I am all but asleep. (He stretches himself out and -turns up his collar.) ( Aside.) After all, I am the better for a well- -cooked partridge. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -A FALSE ALARM - -Every time I visit Paris, which, unhappily, is too often, it rains in -torrents. It makes no difference whether I change the time of starting -from that which I had fixed upon at first, stop on the way, travel at -night, resort, in short, to a thousand devices to deceive the barometer- -at ten leagues from Paris the clouds begin to pile up and I get out of -the train amidst a general deluge. - -On the occasion of my last visit I found myself as usual in the street, -followed by a street porter carrying my luggage and addressing despairing -signals to all the cabs trotting quickly past amid the driving rain. -After ten minutes of futile efforts a driver, more sensible than the -others, and hidden in his triple cape, checks his horses. With a single -bound I am beside the cab, and opening, the door with a kind of frenzy, -jump in. - -Unfortunately, while I am accomplishing all this on one side, a -gentleman, similarly circumstanced, opens the other door and also jumps -in. It is easy to understand that there ensues a collision. - -"Devil take you!" said my rival, apparently inclined to push still -farther forward. - -I was about to answer him, and pretty sharply, too, for I hail from the -south of France and am rather hotheaded, when our eyes met. We looked -one another in the face like two lions over a single sheep, and suddenly -we both burst out laughing. This angry gentleman was Oscar V., that dear -good fellow Oscar, whom I had not seen for ten years, and who is a very -old friend of mine, a charming fellow whom I used to play with as a boy. - -We embraced, and the driver, who was looking at us through the window, -shrugged his shoulders, unable to understand it all. The two porters, -dripping with water, stood, one at each door, with a trunk on his -shoulder. We had the luggage put on the cab and drove off to the Hotel -du Louvre, where Oscar insisted on dropping me. - -"But you are travelling, too, then?" said I to my friend, after the -first moments of expansion. "Don't you live in Paris?" - -"I live in it as little as possible and have just come up from Les -Roches, an old-fashioned little place I inherited from my father, at -which I pass a great deal of the year. Oh! it is not a chateau; it is -rustic, countrified, but I like it, and would not change anything about -it. The country around is fresh and green, a clear little river flows -past about forty yards from the house, amid the trees; there is a mill in -the background, a spreading valley, a steeple and its weather-cock on the -horizon, flowers under the windows, and happiness in the house. Can I -grumble? My wife makes exquisite pastry, which is very agreeable to me -and helps to whiten her hands. By the way, I did not tell you that I am -married. My dear fellow, I came across an angel, and I rightly thought -that if I let her slip I should not find her equal. I did wisely. But I -want to introduce you to my wife and to show you my little place. When -will you come and see me? It is three hours from Paris--time to smoke a -couple of cigars. It is settled, then--I am going back to-morrow morning -and I will have a room ready for you. Give me your card and I will write -down my address on it." - -All this was said so cordially that I could not resist my friend's -invitation, and promised to visit him. - -Three or four days later, Paris being empty and the recollection of my -old companion haunting me, I felt a strong desire to take a peep at his -conjugal felicity and to see with my own eyes this stream, this mill, -this steeple, beside all which he was so happy. - -I reached Les Roches at about six in the evening and was charmed at the -very first glance. Oscar's residence was a little Louis Quinze chateau -buried in the trees; irregularly built, but charmingly picturesque. It -had been left unaltered for a century at least, and everything, from the -blackened mansard roofs with their rococo weather-cocks, to the bay -windows with their tiny squares of glass and the fantastic escutcheon -over the door, was in keeping. Over the thick tiles of the somewhat -sunken roof, the rough-barked old chestnuts lazily stretched their -branches. Creepers and climbing roses wantoned over the front, framing -the windows, peeping into the garrets, and clinging to the waterspouts, -laden with large bunches of flowers which swayed gently in the air. Amid -all these pointed roofs and this profusion of verdure and trees the blue -sky could only be caught a glimpse of here and there. - -The first person I saw was Oscar, clad in white from head to foot, and -wearing a straw hat. He was seated on an enormous block of stone which -seemed part and parcel of the house, and appeared very much interested in -a fine melon which his gardener had just brought to him. No sooner had -he caught sight of me than he darted forward and grasped me by the hand -with such an expression of good-humor and affection that I said to -myself, "Yes, certainly he was not deceiving me, he is happy." I found -him just as I had known him in his youth, lively, rather wild, but kind -and obliging. - -"Pierre," said he to the gardener, "take this gentleman's portmanteau to -the lower room," and, as the gardener bestirred himself slowly and with -an effort, Oscar seized the portmanteau and swung it, with a jerk, on to -the shoulders of the poor fellow, whose legs bent under the weight. - -"Lazybones," said Oscar, laughing heartily. "Ah! now I must introduce -you to my little queen. My wife, where is my wife?" - -He ran to the bell and pulled it twice. At once a fat cook with a red -face and tucked-up sleeves, and behind her a man-servant wiping a plate, -appeared at the ground-floor windows. Had they been chosen on purpose? -I do not know, but their faces and bearing harmonized so thoroughly with -the picture that I could not help smiling. - -"Where is your mistress?" asked Oscar, and as they did not answer -quickly enough he exclaimed, "Marie, Marie, here is my friend George." - -A young girl, fair as a lily, appeared at a narrow, little window, the -one most garlanded by, flowers, on the first floor. She was clad in a -white dressing-gown of some particular shape; I could not at first make -out. With one hand she gathered its folds about her, and with the other -restrained her flowing hair. Hardly had she seen me when she blushed, -somewhat ashamed, no doubt, at having been surprised in the midst of her -toilet, and, giving a most embarrassed yet charming bow; hurriedly -disappeared. This vision completed the charm; it seemed to me that I had -suddenly been transported into fairy-land. I had fancied when strapping -my portmanteau that I should find my friend Oscar installed in one of -those pretty, little, smart-looking houses, with green shutters and gilt -lightning-conductor, dear to the countrified Parisian, and here I found -myself amid an ideal blending of time-worn stones hidden in flowers, -ancient gables, and fanciful ironwork reddened by rust. I was right in -the midst of one of Morin's sketches, and, charmed and stupefied, I stood -for some moments with my eyes fixed on the narrow window at which the -fair girl had disappeared. - -"I call her my little queen," said Oscar, taking my arm. "It is my wife. -Come this way, we shall meet my cousin who is fishing, and two other -friends who are strolling about in this direction, good fellows, only -they do not understand the country as I do--they have on silk stockings -and pumps, but it does not matter, does it? Would you like a pair of -slippers or a straw hat? - -I hope you have brought some linen jackets. I won't offer you a glass of -Madeira--we shall dine at once. Ah! my dear fellow, you have turned up -at the right moment; we are going to taste the first melon of the year -this evening." - -"Unfortunately, I never eat melons, though I like to see others do so." - -"Well, then, I will offer you consolation by seeking out a bottle of my -old Pomard for you. Between ourselves, I don't give it to every one; it -is a capital wine which my poor father recommended to me on his deathbed; -poor father, his eyes were closed, and his head stretched back on the -pillow. I was sitting beside his bed, my hand in his, when I felt it -feebly pressed. His eyes half opened, and I saw him smile. Then he said -in a weak, slow, and the quavering voice of an old man who is dying: 'The -Pomard at the farther end--on the left--you know, my boy--only for -friends.' He pressed my hand again, and, as if exhausted, closed his -eyes, though I could see by the imperceptible motion of his lips that he -was still smiling inwardly. Come with me to the cellar," continued -Oscar, after a brief silence, "at the farther end to the left, you shall -hold the lantern for me." - -When we came up from the cellar, the bell was ringing furiously, and -flocks of startled birds were flying out of the chestnut-trees. It was -for dinner. All the guests were in the garden. Oscar introduced me in -his off-hand way, and I offered my arm to the mistress of the house to -conduct her to the dining-room. - -On examining my friend's wife, I saw that my first impression had not -been erroneous--she was literally a little angel, and a little angel in -the shape of a woman, which is all the better. She was delicate, slender -as a young girl; her voice was as thrilling and harmonious as the -chaffinch, with an indefinable accent that smacked of no part of the -country in particular, but lent a charm to her slightest word. She had, -moreover, a way of speaking of her own, a childish and coquettish way of -modulating the ends of her sentences and turning her eyes toward her -husband, as if to seek for his approbation. She blushed every moment, -but at the same time her smile was so bewitching and her teeth so white -that she seemed to be laughing at herself. A charming little woman! -Add to this a strange yet tasteful toilette, rather daring, perhaps, -but suiting this little queen, so singular in herself. Her beautiful -fair hair, twisted up apparently at hazard, was fixed rather high up on -the head by a steel comb worn somewhat on one side; and her white muslin -dress trimmed with wide, flat ruches, cut square at the neck, short in -the skirt, and looped up all round, had a delicious eighteenth-century -appearance. The angel was certainly a trifle coquettish, but in her own -way, and yet her way was exquisite. - -Hardly were we seated at table when Oscar threw toward his little queen -a rapid glance, but one so full of happiness and-why should I not say it? ---love that I experienced a kind of shiver, a thrill of envy, -astonishment, and admiration, perhaps. He took from the basket of -flowers on the table a red rose, scarcely opened, and, pushing it toward -her, said with a smile: - -"For your hair, Madame." - -The fair girl blushed deeply, took the flower, and, without hesitation, -quickly and dexterously stuck it in her hair, high up on the left, just -in the right spot, and, delightedly turning round to each of us, repeated -several times, amid bursts of laughter, "Is it right like that?" - -Then she wafted a tiny kiss with the tips of her fingers to her husband, -as a child of twelve would have done, and gayly plunged her spoon into -the soup, turning up her little finger as she did so. - -The other guests had nothing very remarkable about them; they laughed -very good-naturedly at these childish ways, but seemed somewhat out of -place amid all this charming freedom from restraint. The cousin, above -all, the angler, with his white waistcoat, his blue tie, his full beard, -and his almond eyes, especially displeased me. He rolled his r's like an -actor at a country theatre. He broke his bread into little bits and -nibbled them as he talked. I divined that the pleasure of showing off -a large ring he wore had something to do with this fancy for playing with -his bread. Once or twice I caught a glance of melancholy turned toward -the mistress of the house, but at first I did not take much notice of it, -my attention being attracted by the brilliant gayety of Oscar. - -It seemed to me, however, at the end of a minute or so, that this young -man was striving in a thousand ways to engage the attention of the little -queen. - -The latter, however, answered him in the most natural way in the world, -neither betraying constraint nor embarrassment. I was mistaken, -no doubt. Have you ever noticed, when you are suddenly brought into the -midst of a circle where you are unacquainted, how certain little details, -matters of indifference to every one else, assume importance in your -eyes? The first impression is based upon a number of trifles that catch -your attention at the outset. A stain in the ceiling, a nail in the -wall, a feature of your neighbor's countenance impresses itself upon your -mind, installs itself there, assumes importance, and, in spite of -yourself, all the other observations subsequently made by you group -around this spot, this nail, this grimace. Think over it, dear reader, -and you will see that every opinion you may have as to a fact, a person, -or an object has been sensibly influenced by the recollection of the -little trifle that caught your eye at the first glance. What young girl -victim of first impressions has not refused one or two husbands on -account of a waistcoat too loose, a cravat badly tied, an inopportune -sneeze, a foolish smile, or a boot too pointed at the toe? - -One does not like admitting to one's self that such trifles can serve as -a base to the opinion one has of any one, and one must seek attentively -in order to discover within one's mind these unacknowledged germs. - -I recollect quite well that the first time I had the honor of calling on -Madame de M., I noticed that one of her teeth, the first molar on the -right, was quite black. I only caught a glimpse of the little black -monster, such was the care taken to hide it, yet I could not get this -discovery out of my head. I soon noticed that Madame de M. made -frightful grimaces to hide her tooth, and that she took only the smallest -possible mouthfuls at table to spare the nervous susceptibilities of the -little monster. - -I arrived at the pitch of accounting for all the mental and physical -peculiarities of Madame de M. by the presence of this slight blemish, -and despite myself this black tooth personified the Countess so well that -even now, although it has been replaced by another magnificent one, twice -as big and as white as the bottom of a plate, even now, I say, Madame de -M. can not open her mouth without my looking naturally at it. - -But to return to our subject. Amid all this conjugal happiness, so -delightfully surrounded, face to face with dear old Oscar, so good, so -confiding, so much in love with this little cherub in a Louis XV dress, -who carried grace and naivete to so strange a pitch, I had been struck by -the too well combed and foppish head of the cousin in the white -waistcoat. This head had attracted my attention like the stain on the -ceiling of which I spoke just now, like the Countess's black tooth, and -despite myself I did not take my eyes off the angler as he passed the -silver blade of his knife through a slice of that indigestible fruit -which I like to see on the plates of others, but can not tolerate on my -own. - -After dinner, which lasted a very long time, we went into the garden, -where coffee had been served, and stretched ourselves out beatifically, -cigar in mouth. All was calm and silent about us, the insects had ceased -their music, and in an opaline sky little violet clouds were sleeping. - -Oscar, with a happy air, pointed out to me the famous mill, the quiet -valley, and farther on his loved stream, in which the sun, before -setting, was reflecting itself amid the reeds. Meanwhile the little -queen on her high heels flitted round the cups like a child playing at -party-giving, and with a thousand charming touches poured out the boiling -coffee, the odor of which blended deliciously with the perfume of the -flowers, the hay, and the woods. - -When she had finished she sat down beside her husband, so close that her -skirt half hid my friend, and unceremoniously taking the cigar from his -lips, held it at a distance, with a little pout, that meant, "Oh, the -horrid thing!" and knocked off with her little finger the ash which fell -on the gravel. Then she broke into a laugh, and put the cigar back -between the lips of her husband held out to her. - -It was charming. Oscar was no doubt accustomed to this, for he did not -seem astonished, but placed his hand on his wife's shoulder, as one would -upon a child's, and, kissing her on the forehead, said, "Thanks, my -dear." - -"Yes, but you are only making fun of me," said the young wife, in a -whisper, leaning her head against her husband's arm. - -I could not help smiling, there was so much coaxing childishness and -grace in this little whispered sentence. I do not know why I turned -toward the cousin who had remained a little apart, smoking in silence. -He seemed to me rather pale; he took three or four sudden puffs, rose -suddenly under the evident influence of some moral discomfort, and walked -away beneath the trees. - -"What is the matter with cousin?" said Oscar, with some interest. -"What ails him?" - -"I don't know," answered the little queen, in the most natural manner in -the world, "some idea about fishing, no doubt." - -Night began to fall; we had remained as I have said a long time at table. -It was about nine o'clock. The cousin returned and took the seat he had -occupied before, but from this moment it seemed to me that a strange -constraint crept in among us, a singular coolness showed itself. The -talk, so lively at first, slackened gradually and, despite all my efforts -to impart a little life to it, dragged wretchedly. I myself did not feel -very bright; I was haunted by the most absurd notions in the world; -I thought I had detected in the sudden departure of the cousin, in his -pallor, in his embarrassed movements, the expression of some strong -feeling which he had been powerless to hide. But how was it that that -adorable little woman with such a keen intelligent look did not -understand all this, since I understood it myself? Had not Oscar, -however confiding he might be, noted that the departure of the cousin -exactly coincided with the kiss he had given his wife? Were these two -blind, or did they pretend not to see, or was I myself the victim of an -illusion? However, conversation had died away; the mistress of the -house, singular symptom, was silent and serious, and Oscar wriggled in -his chair, like a man who is not altogether at ease. What was passing in -their minds? - -Soon we heard the clock in the drawing-room strike ten, and Oscar, -suddenly rising, said: "My dear fellow, in the country it is Liberty -Hall, you know; so I will ask your permission to go in--I am rather tired -this evening. George," he added to me, "they will show you your room; it -is on the ground floor; I hope that you will be comfortable there." - -Everybody got up silently, and, after bidding one another good-night in -a somewhat constrained manner, sought their respective rooms. I thought, -I must acknowledge, that they went to bed rather too early at my -friend's. I had no wish to sleep; I therefore examined my room, which -was charming. It was completely hung with an old figured tapestry framed -in gray wainscot. The bed, draped in dimity curtains, was turned down -and exhaled that odor of freshly washed linen which invites one to -stretch one's self in it. On the table, a little gem dating from the -beginning of the reign of Louis XVI, were four or five books, evidently -chosen by Oscar and placed there for me. These little attentions touch -one, and naturally my thoughts recurred to the dear fellow, to the -strange incident of the evening, to the vexations and tortures hidden,, -perhaps, by this apparent happiness. I was ridiculous that night-- -I already pitied him, my poor friend. - -I felt quite touched, and, full of melancholy, went and leaned against -the sill of the open window. The moon had just risen, the sky was -beautifully clear, whiffs of delicious perfumes assailed my nostrils. -I saw in the shadow of the trees glowworms sparkling on the grass, and, -in the masses of verdure lit up mysteriously by the moon, I traced -strange shapes of fantastic monsters. There was, above all, a little -pointed roof surmounted by a weathercock, buried in the trees at about -fifty paces from my window, which greatly interested me. I could not in -the obscurity make out either door or windows belonging to this singular -tower. Was it an old pigeon-house, a tomb, a deserted summer-house? -I could not tell, but its little pointed roof, with a round dormer -window, was extremely graceful. Was it chance or an artist lull of taste -that had covered this tower with creepers and flowers, and surrounded it -with foliage in such capricious fashion that it seemed to be hiding -itself in order to catch all glances? I was gazing at all this when I -heard a faint noise in the shrubbery. I looked in that direction and I -saw--really, it was an anxious moment--I saw a phantom clad in a white -robe and walking with mysterious and agitated rapidity. At a turning of -the path the moon shone on this phantom. Doubt was impossible; I had -before my eyes my friend's wife. Her gait no longer had that coquettish -ease which I had noticed, but clearly indicated the agitation due to some -strong emotion. - -I strove to banish the horrible suspicion which suddenly forced itself -into my mind. "No," I said to myself, "so much innocence and beauty can -not be capable of deception; no doubt she has forgotten her fan or her -embroidery, on one of the benches there." But instead of making her way -toward the benches I noticed on the right, the young wife turned to the -left, and soon disappeared in the shadow of the grove in which was hidden -the mysterious turret. - -My heart ached. "Where is she going, the hapless woman?" I exclaimed to -myself. "At any rate, I will not let her imagine any one is watching -her." And I hurriedly blew out my candle. I wanted to close my window, -go to bed, and see nothing more, but an invincible curiosity took me back -to the window. I had only been there a few minutes when I plainly -distinguished halting and timid footsteps on the gravel. I could see no -one at first, but there was no doubt that the footsteps were those of a -man. I soon had a proof that I was not mistaken; the elongated outline -of the cousin showed up clearly against the dark mass of shrubbery. -I should have liked to have stopped him, the wretch, for his intention -was evident; he was making his way toward the thicket in which the little -queen had disappeared. I should have liked to shout to him, "You are a -villain; you shall go no farther." But had I really any right to act -thus? I was silent, but I coughed, however, loud enough to be heard by -him. - -He suddenly paused in his uneasy walk, looked round on all sides with -visible anxiety, then, seized by I know not what impulse, darted toward -the pavilion. I was overwhelmed. What ought I to do? Warn my friend, -my childhood's companion? Yes, no doubt, but I felt ashamed to pour -despair into the mind of this good fellow and to cause a horrible -exposure. "If he can be kept in ignorance," I said to myself, "and then -perhaps I am wrong--who knows? Perhaps this rendezvous is due to the -most natural motive possible." - -I was seeking to deceive myself, to veil the evidence of my own eyes, -when suddenly one of the house doors opened noisily, and Oscar--Oscar -himself, in all the disorder of night attire, his hair rumpled, and his -dressing-gown floating loosely, passed before my window. He ran rather -than walked; but the anguish of his heart was too plainly revealed in the -strangeness of his movements. He knew all. I felt that a mishap was -inevitable. "Behold the outcome of all his happiness, behold the bitter -poison enclosed in so fair a vessel!" All these thoughts shot through my -mind like arrows. It was necessary above all to delay the explosion, -were it only for a moment, a second, and, beside myself, without giving -myself time to think of what I was going to say to him, I cried in a -sharp imperative tone: - -"Oscar, come here; I want to speak to you." - -He stopped as if petrified. He was ghastly pale, and, with an infernal -smile, replied, "I have no time-later on." - -"Oscar, you must, I beg of you--you are mistaken." - -At these words he broke into a fearful laugh. - -"Mistaken--mistaken!" - -And he ran toward the pavilion. - -Seizing the skirt of his dressing-gown, I held him tightly, exclaiming: - -"Don't go, my dear fellow, don't go; I beg of you on my knees not to go." - -By way of reply he gave me a hard blow on the arm with his fist, -exclaiming: - -"What the devil is the matter with you?" - -"I tell you that you can not go there, Oscar," I said, in a voice which -admitted of no contradiction. - -"Then why did not you tell me at once." - -And feverishly snatching his dressing-gown from my grasp, he began to -walk frantically up and down. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -I SUP WITH MY WIFE - -That evening, which chanced to be Christmas Eve, it was infernally cold. -The snow was falling in heavy flakes, and, driven by the wind, beat -furiously against the window panes. The distant chiming of the bells -could just be heard through this heavy and woolly atmosphere. Foot- -passengers, wrapped in their cloaks, slipped rapidly along, keeping close -to the house and bending their heads to the wintry blast. - -Enveloped in my dressing-gown, and tapping with my fingers on the window- -panes, I was smiling at the half-frozen passers-by, the north wind, and -the snow, with the contented look of a man who is in a warm room and has -on his feet comfortable flannel-lined slippers, the soles of which are -buried in a thick carpet. At the fireside my wife was cutting out -something and smiling at me from time to time; a new book awaited me on -the mantelpiece, and the log on the hearth kept shooting out with a -hissing sound those little blue flames which invite one to poke it. - -"There is nothing that looks more dismal than a man tramping through the -snow, is there?" said I to my wife. - -"Hush," said she, lowering the scissors which she held in her hand; and, -after smoothing her chin with her fingers, slender, rosy, and plump at -their tips, she went on examining the pieces of stuff she had cut out. - -"I say that it is ridiculous to go out in the cold when it is so easy to -remain at home at one's own fireside." - -"Hush." - -"But what are you doing that is so important?" - -"I--I am cutting out a pair of braces for you," and she set to work -again. But, as in cutting out she kept her head bent, I noticed, on -passing behind her, her soft, white neck, which she had left bare that -evening by dressing her hair higher than usual. A number of little downy -hairs were curling there. This kind of down made me think of those ripe -peaches one bites so greedily. I drew near, the better to see, and I -kissed the back of my wife's neck. - -"Monsieur!" said Louise, suddenly turning round. - -"Madame," I replied, and we both burst out laughing. - -"Christmas Eve," said I. - -"Do you wish to excuse yourself and to go out?" - -"Do you mean to complain?" - -"Yes, I complain that you are not sufficiently impressed by the fact of -its being Christmas Eve. The ding-ding-dong of the bells of Notre Dame -fails to move you; and just now when the magic-lantern passed beneath the -window, I looked at you while pretending to work, and you were quite -calm." - -"I remain calm when the magic-lantern is going by! Ah! my dear, you are -very severe on me, and really--" - -"Yes, yes, jest about it, but it was none the less true that the -recollections of your childhood have failed." - -"Now, my dear, do you want me to leave my boots out on the hearth this -evening on going to bed? Do you want me to call in the magic-lantern -man, and to look out a big sheet and a candle end for him, as my poor -mother used to do? I can still see her as she used to entrust her white -sheet to him. 'Don't make a hole in it, at least,' she would say. How -we used to clap our hands in the mysterious darkness! I can recall all -those joys, my dear, but you know so many other things have happened -since then. Other pleasures have effaced those." - -"Yes, I can understand, your bachelor pleasures; and, there, I am sure -that this Christmas Eve is the first you have passed by your own -fireside, in your dressing-gown, without supper; for you used to sup on -Christmas Eve." - -"To sup, to sup." - -"Yes, you supped; I will wager you did." - -"I have supped two or three times, perhaps, with friends, you know; two -sous' worth of roasted chestnuts and--" - -"A glass of sugar and water." - -"Oh, pretty nearly so. It was all very simple; as far as I can -recollect. We chatted a little and went to bed." - -"And he says that without a smile. You have never breathed a word to me -of all these simple pleasures." - -"But, my dear, all that I am telling you is strictly true. I remember -that once, however, it was rather lively. It was at Ernest's, and we had -some music. Will you push that log toward me? But, never mind; it will -soon be midnight, and that is the hour when reasonable people--" - -Louise, rising and throwing her arms around my neck, interrupted me with: -"Well, I don't want to be reasonable, I want to wipe out all your -memories of chestnuts and glasses of sugar and water." - -Then pushing me into my dressing-room she locked the door. - -"But, my dear, what is the matter with you?" said I through the keyhole. - -"I want ten minutes, no more. Your newspaper is on the mantelpiece; you -have not read it this evening. There are some matches in the corner." - -I heard a clatter of crockery, a rustling of silk my wife mad? - -Louise soon came and opened the door. - -"Don't scold me for having shut you up," she said, kissing me. "Look how -I have beautified myself? Do you recognize the coiffure you are so fond -of, the chignon high, and the neck bare? Only as my poor neck is -excessively timid, it would have never consented to show itself thus if -I had not encouraged it a little by wearing my dress low. And then one -must put on full uniform to sup with the authorities." - -"To sup?" - -"Certainly, to sup with you; don't you see my illuminations and this -table covered with flowers and a heap of good things? I had got it all -ready in the alcove; but you understand that to roll the table up to the -fire and make a little toilette, I wanted to be alone. Come, Monsieur, -take your place at table. I am as hungry as a hunter. May I offer you a -wing of cold chicken?" - -"Your idea is charming, but, dear, really I am ashamed; I am in my -dressing-gown." - -"Take off your dressing-gown if it incommodes you, Monsieur, but don't -leave this chicken wing on my hands. I want to serve you myself." And, -rising, she turned her sleeves up to the elbow, and placed her table -napkin on her arm. - -"It is thus that the waiters at the restaurant do it, is it not?" - -"Exactly; but, waiter, allow me at least to kiss your hand." - -"I have no time," said she, laughing, sticking the corkscrew into the -neck of the bottle. "Chambertin--it is a pretty name; and then do you -remember that before our marriage (how hard this cork is!) you told me -that you liked it on account of a poem by Alfred de Musset? which, by -the way, you have not let me read yet. Do you see the two little -Bohemian glasses which I bought expressly for this evening? We will -drink each other's health in them." - -"And his, too, eh?" - -"The heir's, poor dear love of an heir! I should think so. And then I -will put away the two glasses against this time next year; they shall be -our Christmas Eve glasses? Every year we will sup like this together, -however old we may get." - -"But, my dear, how about the time when we have no longer any teeth?" - -"Well, we will sup on good strong soups; it will be very nice, all the -same. Another piece, please, with some of the jelly. Thanks." - -As she held out her plate I noticed her arm, the outline of which was -lost in lace. - -"Why are you looking up my sleeve instead of eating?" - -"I am looking at your arm, dear. You are charming, let me tell you, this -evening. That coiffure suits you so well, and that dress which I was -unacquainted with." - -"Well, when one seeks to make a conquest--" - -"How pretty you look, pet!" - -"Is it true that you think me charming, pretty, and a pet this evening? -Well, then," lowering her eyes and smiling at her bracelets, "in that -case I do not see why--" - -"What is it you do not see, dear?" - -"I do not see any reason why you should not come and give me just a -little kiss." - -And as the kiss was prolonged, she said to me, amid bursts of laughter, -her head thrown back, and showing the double row of her white teeth: -"I should like some pie; yes, some brie! You will break my Bohemian -glass, the result of my economy. You always cause some mishap when you -want to kiss me. Do you recollect at Madame de Brill's ball, two days -before our marriage, how you tore my skirt while waltzing in the little -drawing-room?" - -"Because it is difficult to do two things at once-to keep step and to -kiss one's partner." - -"I recollect, too, when mamma asked how my skirt had got torn, I felt -that I was blushing up to my ears. And Madame D., that old jaundiced -fairy, who said to me with her Lenten smile, 'How flushed you are -tonight, my dear child!' I could have strangled her! I said it was the -key of the door that had caught it. I looked at you out of the corner of -my eye; you were pulling your moustache and seemed greatly annoyed--you -are keeping all the truffles for yourself; that is kind--not that one; -I want the big black one there in the corner-it was very wrong all the -same, for--oh! not quite full--I do not want to be tipsy--for, after all, -if we had not been married--and that might have happened, for you know -they say that marriages only depend on a thread. Well, if the thread had -not been strong enough, I should have remained a maid with a kiss on my -shoulder, and a nice thing that would have been." - -"Bah! it does not stain." - -"Yes, Monsieur, it does, I beg your pardon. It stains so much that there -are husbands, I believe, who even shed their blood to wash out such -little stains." - -"But I was joking, dear. Hang it!--don't you think--yes, certainly, hang -it!" - -"Ah! that's right, I like to see you angry. You are a trifle jealous, -dear--oh! that is too bad; I asked you for the big black one, and you -have gone and eaten it." - -"I am sorry, dear; I quite forgot about it." - -"It was the same at the Town Hall, where I was obliged to jog your elbow -to make you answer 'Yes' to the Mayor's kind words." - -"Kind!" - -"Yes, kind. I thought him charming. No one could have been more -graceful than he was in addressing me. 'Mademoiselle, will you consent -to accept for your husband that great, ugly fellow standing beside you?'" -(Laughing, with her mouth full.) "I wanted to say to him, 'Let us come to -an understanding, Mr. Mayor; there is something to be said on either -side.' I am choking!"--she bursts out laughing-- "I was wrong not to -impose restrictions. Your health, dear! I am teasing you; it is very -stupid. I said 'Yes' with all my heart, I can assure you, dear, and I -thought the word too weak a one. When I think that all women, even the -worst, say that word, I feel ashamed not to have found another." Holding -out her glass: "To our golden wedding--will you touch glasses?" - -"And to his baptism, little mamma." - -In a low voice: "Tell me--are you sorry you married me?" - -Laughing, "Yes." Kissing her on the shoulder, "I think I have found the -stain again; it was just there." - -"It is two in the morning, the fire is out, and I am a little--you won't -laugh now? Well, I am a little dizzy." - -"A capital pie, eh?" - -"A capital pie! We shall have a cup of tea for breakfast tomorrow, shall -we not?" - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -FROM ONE THING TO ANOTHER - - SCENE.--The country in autumn--The wind is blowing without--MADAME, - seated by the fireside in a large armchair, is engaged in needlework - --MONSIEUR, seated in front of her, is watching the flames of the - fire--A long silence. - -Monsieur--Will you pass me the poker, my dear? - -Madame--(humming to herself)--"And yet despite so many fears." (Spoken.) -Here is the poker. (Humming.) "Despite the painful----" - -Monsieur--That is by Mehul, is it not, my dear? Ah! that is music--I saw -Delaunay Riquier in Joseph. (He hums as he makes up the fire.) "Holy -pains." (Spoken.) One wonders why it does not burn, and, by Jove! it -turns out to be green wood. Only he was a little too robust--Riquier. -A charming voice, but he is too stout. - -Madame--(holding her needlework at a distance, the better to judge of the -effect)--Tell me, George, would you have this square red or black? You -see, the square near the point. Tell me frankly. - -Monsieur--(singing) "If you can repent." (Spoken without turning his -head.) Red, my dear; red. I should not hesitate; I hate black. - -Madame--Yes, but if I make that red it will lead me to-- (She reflects.) - -Monsieur--Well, my dear, if it leads you away, you must hold fast to -something to save yourself. - -Madame--Come, George, I am speaking seriously. You know that if this -little square is red, the point can not remain violet, and I would not -change that for anything. - -Monsieur--(slowly and seriously)--My dear, will you follow the advice of -an irreproachable individual, to whose existence you have linked your -fate? Well, make that square pea-green, and so no more about it. Just -look whether a coal fire ever looked like that. - -Madame--I should only be too well pleased to use up my pea-green wool; I -have a quantity of it. - -Monsieur--Then where lies the difficulty? - -Madame--The difficulty is that pea-green is not sufficiently religious. - -Monsieur--Hum! (Humming.) Holy pains! (Spoken.) Will you be kind enough -to pass the bellows? Would it be indiscreet to ask why the poor pea- -green, which does not look very guilty, has such an evil reputation? You -are going in for religious needlework, then, my dear? - -Madame--Oh, George! I beg of you to spare me your fun. I have been -familiar with it for a long time, you know, and it is horribly -disagreeable to me. I am simply making a little mat for the -confessional-box of the vicar. There! are you satisfied? You know what -it is for, and you must understand that under the present circumstances -pea-green would be altogether out of place. - -Monsieur--Not the least in the world. I can swear to you that I could -just as well confess with pea-green under my feet. It is true that I am -naturally of a resolute disposition. Use up your wool; I can assure you -that the vicar will accept it all the same. He does not know how to -refuse. (He plies the bellows briskly.) - -Madame--You are pleased, are you not? - -Monsieur--Pleased at what, dear? - -Madame--Pleased at having vented your sarcasm, at having passed a jest on -one who is absent. Well, I tell you that you are a bad man, seeing that -you seek to shake the faith of those about you. My beliefs had need be -very fervent, principles strong, and have real virtue, to resist these -incessant attacks. Well, why are you looking at me like that? - -Monsieur--I want to be converted, my little apostle. You are so pretty -when you speak out; your eyes glisten, your voice rings, your gestures-- -I am sure that you could speak like that for a long time, eh? (He kisses -her hand, and takes two of her curls and ties them under hey chin.) You -are looking pretty, my pet. - -Madame--Oh! you think you have reduced me to silence because you have -interrupted me. Ah! there, you have tangled my hair. How provoking you -are! It will take me an hour to put it right. You are not satisfied -with being a prodigy of impiety, but you must also tangle my hair. Come, -hold out your hands and take this skein of wool. - -Monsieur--(sitting down on a stool, which he draws as closely as possible -to Madame, and holding up his hands) My little Saint John! - -Madame--Not so close, George; not so close. (She smiles despite -herself.) How silly you are! Please be careful; you will break my wool. - -Monsieur--Your religious wool. - -Madame--Yes, my religious wool. (She gives him a little pat on the -cheek.) Why do you part your hair so much on one side, George? It would -suit you much better in the middle, here. Yes, you may kiss me, but -gently. - -Monsieur--Can you guess what I am thinking of? - -Madame--How do you imagine I could guess that? - -Monsieur--Well, I am thinking of the barometer which is falling and of -the thermometer which is falling too. - -Madame--You see, cold weather is coming on and my mat will never be -finished. Come, let us make haste. - -Monsieur--I was thinking of the thermometer which is falling and of my -room which faces due north. - -Madame--Did you not choose it yourself? My wool! Good gracious! my -wool! Oh! the wicked wretch! - -Monsieur--In summer my room with the northern aspect is, no doubt, very -pleasant; but when autumn comes, when the wind creeps in, when the rain -trickles down the windowpanes, when the fields, the country, seem hidden -under a huge veil of sadness, when the spoils of our woodlands strew the -earth, when the groves have lost their mystery and the nightingale her -voice--oh! then the room with the northern aspect has a very northern -aspect, and-- - -Madame--(continuing to wind her wool)--What nonsense you are talking! - -Monsieur--I protest against autumns, that is all. God's sun is hidden -and I seek another. Is not that natural, my little fairhaired saint, my -little mystic lamb, my little blessed palmbranch? This new sun I find in -you, pet--in your look, in the sweet odor of your person, in the rustling -of your skirt, in the down on your neck which one notices by the lamp- -light when you bend over the vicar's mat, in your nostril which expands -when my lips approach yours-- - -Madame--Will you be quiet, George? It is Friday, and Ember week. - -Monsieur--And your dispensation? (He kisses her.) Don't you see that -your hand shakes, that you blush, that your heart is beating? - -Madame--George, will you have done, sir? (She pulls away her hand, -throws herself back in the chair, and avoids her husband's glance.) - -Monsieur--Your poor little heart beats, and it is right, dear; it knows -that autumn is the time for confidential chats and evening caresses, the -time for kisses. And you know it too, for you defend yourself poorly, -and I defy you to look me in the face. Come! look me in the face. - -Madame--(she suddenly leans toward hey husband, the ball of wool rolling -into the fireplace, the pious task falling to the ground. She takes his -head between her hands)--Oh, what a dear, charming husband you would be -if you had-- - -Monsieur--If I had what? Tell me quickly. - -Madame--If you had a little religion. I should only ask for such a -little at the beginning. It is not very difficult, I can assure you. -While, now, you are really too-- - -Monsieur--Pea-green, eh? - -Madame--Yes, pea-green, you great goose. (She laughs frankly.) - -Monsieur--(lifting his hands in the air)--Sound trumpets! Madame has -laughed; Madame is disarmed. Well, my snowwhite lamb, I am going to -finish my story; listen properly, there, like that--your hands here, my -head so. Hush! don't laugh. I am speaking seriously. As I was saying -to you, the north room is large but cold, poetic but gloomy, and I will -add that two are not too many in this wintry season to contend against -the rigors of the night. I will further remark that if the sacred ties -of marriage have a profoundly social significance, it is--do not -interrupt me--at that hour of one's existence when one shivers on one's -solitary couch. - -Madame--You can not be serious. - -Monsieur--Well, seriously, I should like the vicar's mat piously spread -upon your bed, to keep us both warm together, this very evening. I wish -to return as speedily as possible to the intimacy of conjugal life. Do -you hear how the wind blows and whistles through the doors? The fire -splutters, and your feet are frozen. (He takes her foot in his hands.) - -Madame--But you are taking off my slipper, George. - -Monsieur--Do you think, my white lamb, that I am going to leave your poor -little foot in that state? Let it stay in my hand to be warmed. Nothing -is so cold as silk. What! openwork stockings? My dear, you are rather -dainty about your foot-gear for a Friday. Do you know, pet, you can not -imagine how gay I wake up when the morning sun shines into my room. You -shall see. I am no longer a man; I am a chaffinch; all the joys of -spring recur to me. I laugh, I sing, I speechify, I tell tales to make -one die of laughter. Sometimes I even dance. - -Madame--Come now! I who in the morning like neither noise nor broad -daylight--how little all that suits! - -Monsieur--(suddenly changing his tone)--Did I say that I liked all that? -The morning sun? Never in autumn, my sweet dove, never. I awake, on the -contrary full of languor and poesy; I was like that in my very cradle. -We will prolong the night, and behind the drawn curtain, behind the -closed shutter, we will remain asleep without sleeping. Buried in -silence and shadow, delightfully stretched beneath your warm eider-down -coverlets, we will slowly enjoy the happiness of being together, and we -will wish one another good-morning only on the stroke of noon. You do -not like noise, dear. I will not say a word. Not a murmur to disturb -your unfinished dream and warn you that you are no longer sleeping; not a -breath to recall you to reality; not a movement to rustle the coverings. -I will be silent as a shade, motionless as a statue; and if I kiss you-- -for, after all, I have my weaknesses--it will be done with a thousand -precautions, my lips will scarcely brush your sleeping shoulder; and if -you quiver with pleasure as you stretch out your arms, if your eye half -uncloses at the murmur of my kiss, if your lips smile at me, if I kiss -you, it would be because you would like me to, and I shall have nothing -to reproach myself with. - -Madame--(her eyes half closed, leaning back in hey armchair, her head -bent with emotion, she places her hands before his mouth. In a low -voice)--Hush, hush! Don't say that, dear; not another word! If you knew -how wrong it was! - -Monsieur--Wrong! What is there that is wrong? Is your heart of marble -or adamant, that you do not see that I love you, you naughty child? That -I hold out my arms to you, that I long to clasp you to my heart, and to -fall asleep in your hair? What is there more sacred in the world than to -love one's wife or love one's husband? (Midnight strikes.) - -Madame--(she suddenly changes hey expression at the sound, throws her -arms round her husband, and hurriedly kisses him thrice)--You thought I -did not love you, eh, dear? Oh, yes! I love you. Great baby! not to -see that I was waiting the time. - -Monsieur--What time, dear? - -Madame--The time. It has struck twelve, see. (She blushes crimson.) -Friday is over. (She holds out her hand for him to kiss.) - -Monsieur--Are you sure the clock is not five minutes fast, love? - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -A LITTLE CHAT - - MADAME F----- MADAME H------ - - (These ladies are seated at needlework as they talk.) - -Madame F--For myself, you know, my dear, I fulfil my duties tolerably, -still I am not what would be called a devotee. By no means. Pass me -your scissors. Thanks. - -Madame H--You are quite welcome, dear. What a time those little squares -of lace must take. I am like yourself in respect of religion; in the -first place, I think that nothing should be overdone. Have you ever- -I have never spoken to any one on the subject, but I see your ideas are -so in accordance with my own that-- - -Madame F--Come, speak out, dear; you trust me a little, I hope. - -Madame H--Well, then, have you--tell me truly--ever had any doubts? - -Madame F--(after reflecting for a moment)--Doubts! No. And you? - -Madame H--I have had doubts, which has been a real grief to me. Heavens! -how I have wept. - -Madame F--I should think so, my poor dear. For my own part, my faith is -very strong. These doubts must have made you very unhappy. - -Madame H--Terribly so. You know, it seems as if everything failed you; -there is a vacancy all about you--I have never spoken about it to my -husband, of course--Leon is a jewel of a man, but he will not listen to -anything of that kind. I can still see him, the day after our marriage; -I was smoothing my hair--broad bands were then worn, you know. - -Madame F--Yes, yes; they were charming. You will see that we shall go -back to them. - -Madame H--I should not be surprised; fashion is a wheel that turns. -Leon, then, said to me the day after our wedding: "My dear child, I shall -not hinder you going to church, but I beg you, for mercy's sake, never to -say a word to me about it." - -Madame F--Really, Monsieur H. said that to you? - -Madame H--Upon my honor. Oh! my husband is all that is most--or, if you -prefer it, all that is least-- - -Madame F--Yes, yes, I understand. That is a grief, you know. Mine is -only indifferent. From time to time he says some disagreeable things to -me on the question, but I am sure he could be very easily brought back to -the right. At the first illness he has, you shall see. When he has only -a cold in the head, I notice the change. You have not seen my thimble? - -Madame H--Here it is. Do not be too sure of that, dear; men are not to -be brought back by going "chk, chk" to them, like little chickens. And -then, though I certainly greatly admire the men who observe religious -practices, you know me well enough not to doubt that--I think, as I told -you, that nothing should be exaggerated. And yourself, pet, should you -like to see your husband walking before the banner with a great wax taper -in his right hand and a bouquet of flowers in his left? - -Madame F--Oh! no, indeed. Why not ask me at once whether I should like -to see Leon in a black silk skull cap, with cotton in his ears and a holy -water sprinkler in his hand? One has no need to go whining about a -church with one's nose buried in a book to be a pious person; there is a -more elevated form of religion, which is that of--of refined people, you -know. - -Madame H--Ah! when you speak like that, I am of your opinion. I think, -for instance, that there is nothing looks finer than a man while the host -is being elevated. Arms crossed, no book, head slightly bowed, grave -look, frock coat buttoned up. Have you seen Monsieur de P. at mass? -How well he looks! - -Madame F--He is such a fine man, and, then, he dresses so well. Have you -seen him on horseback? Ah! so you have doubts; but tell me what they -are, seeing we are indulging in confidences. - -Madame H--I can hardly tell you. Doubts, in short; about hell, for -instance, I have had horrible doubts. Oh! but do not let us speak about -that; I believe it is wrong even to think of it. - -Madame F--I have very broad views on that point; I never think about it. -Besides, my late confessor helped me. "Do not seek too much," he always -said to me, "do not try to understand that which is unfathomable." You -did not know Father Gideon? He was a jewel of a confessor; I was -extremely pleased with him. Not too tedious, always discreet, and, above -all, well-bred. He turned monk from a romantic cause--a penitent was -madly in love with him. - -Madame H--Impossible! - -Madame F--Yes, really. What! did you not know about it? The success of -the monastery was due to that accident. Before the coming of Father -Gideon it vegetated, but on his coming the ladies soon flocked there in -crowds. They organized a little guild, entitled "The Ladies of the -Agony." They prayed for the Chinese who had died without confession, -and wore little death's heads in aluminum as sleeve-links. It became -very fashionable, as you are aware, and the good fathers organized, in -turn, a registry for men servants; and the result is that, from one thing -leading to another, the community has become extremely wealthy. I have -even heard that one of the most important railway stations in Paris is -shortly to be moved, so that the size of their garden can be increased, -which is rather restricted at present. - -Madame H--As to that, it is natural enough that men should want a place -to walk in at home; but what I do not understand is that a woman, however -pious she may be, should fall in love with a priest. It is all very -well, but that is no longer piety; it is--fanaticism. I venerate -priests, I can say so truly, but after all I can not imagine myself--you -will laugh at me--ha, ha, ha! - -Madame F--Not at all. Ha, ha, ha! what a child you are! - -Madame H--(working with great briskness)--Well, I can not imagine that -they are men--like the others. - -Madame F--(resuming work with equal ardor)--And yet, my dear, people say -they are. - -Madame H--There are so many false reports set afloat. (A long silence.) - -Madame F--(in a discreet tone of voice)--After all, there are priests who -have beards--the Capuchins, for instance. - -Madame H--Madame de V. has a beard right up to her eyes, so that counts -for nothing, dear. - -Madame F--That counts for nothing. I do not think so. In the first -place, Madame de V.'s beard is not a perennial beard; her niece told me -that she sheds her moustaches every autumn. What can a beard be that can -not stand the winter? A mere trifle. - -Madame H--A mere trifle that is horribly ugly, my dear. - -Madame F--Oh! if Madame de V. had only moustaches to frighten away -people, one might still look upon her without sorrow, but-- - -Madame H--I grant all that. Let us allow that the Countess's moustache -and imperial are a nameless species of growth. I do not attach much -importance to the point, you understand. She has a chin of heartbreaking -fertility, that is all. - -Madame F--To return to what we were saying, how is it that the men who -are strongest, most courageous, most manly--soldiers, in fact--are -precisely those who have most beard? - -Madame H--That is nonsense, for then the pioneers would be braver than -the Generals; and, in any case, there is not in France, I am sure, a -General with as much beard as a Capuchin. You have never looked at a -Capuchin then? - -Madame F--Oh, yes! I have looked at one quite close. It is a rather -funny story. Fancy Clementine's cook having a brother a Capuchin--an -ex-jeweller, a very decent man. In consequence of misfortunes in -business--it was in 1848, business was at a stand-still--in short, -he lost his senses--no, he did not lose his senses, but he threw himself -into the arms of Heaven. - -Madame H--Oh! I never knew that! When? Clementine-- - -Madame F--I was like you, I would not believe it, but one day Clementine -said to me: "Since you will not believe in my Capuchin, come and see me -tomorrow about three o'clock; he will be paying a visit to his sister. -Don't have lunch first; we will lunch together." Very good. I went the -next day with Louise, who absolutely insisted upon accompanying me, and I -found at Clementine's five or six ladies installed in the drawing-room -and laughing like madcaps. They had all come to see the Capuchin. -"Well," said I, as I went in, when they all began to make signs to me and -whisper, "Hush, hush!" He was in the kitchen. - -Madame H--And what was he like? - -Madame F--Oh! very nice, except his feet; you know how it always gives -one a chill to look at their feet; but, in short, he was very amiable. -He was sent for into the drawing-room, but he would not take anything -except a little biscuit and a glass of water, which took away our -appetites. He was very lively; told us that we were coquettes with our -little bonnets and our full skirts. He was very funny, always a little -bit of the jeweller at the bottom, but with plenty of good nature and -frankness. He imitated the buzzing of a fly for us; it was wonderful. -He also wanted to show us a little conjuring trick, but he needed two -corks for it, and unfortunately his sister could only find one. - -Madame H--No matter, I can not understand Clementine engaging a servant -like that. - -Madame F--Why? The brother is a guarantee. - -Madame H--Of morality, I don't say no; but it seems to me that a girl -like that can not be very discreet in her ways. - -Madame F--How do you make that out? - -Madame H--I don't know, I can not reason the matter out, but it seems to -me that it must be so, that is all, . . . besides, I should not like -to see a monk in my kitchen, close to the soup. Oh, mercy! no! - -Madame F--What a child you are! - -Madame H--That has nothing to do with religious feelings, my dear; I do -not attack any dogma. Ah! if I were to say, for instance--come now, if I -were to say, what now? - -Madame F--In point of fact, what really is dogma? - -Madame H--Well, it is what can not be attacked. Thus, for instance, -a thing that is evident, you understand me, is unassailable, . . . or -else it should be assailed, . . in short, it can not be attacked. That -is why it is monstrous to allow the Jewish religion and the Protestant -religion in France, because these religions can be assailed, for they -have no dogma. I give you this briefly, but in your prayer-book you will -find the list of dogmas. I am a rod of iron as regards dogmas. My -husband, who, as I said, has succeeded in inspiring me with doubts on -many matters--without imagining it, for he has never required anything of -me; I must do him that justice--but who, at any rate, has succeeded in -making me neglect many things belonging to religion, such as fasting, -vespers, sermons, . . . confession. - -Madame F--Confession! Oh! my dear, I should never have believed that. - -Madame H--It is in confidence, dear pet, that I tell you this. You will -swear never to speak of it? - -Madame F--Confession! Oh! yes, I swear it. Come here, and let me kiss -you. - -Madame H--You pity me, do you not? - -Madame F--I can not pity you too much, for I am absolutely in the same -position. - -Madame H--You, too! Good heavens! how I love you. What can one do, eh? -Must one not introduce some plan of conciliation into the household, -sacrifice one's belief a little to that of one's husband? - -Madame F--No doubt. For instance, how would you have me go to high mass, -which is celebrated at my parish church at eleven o'clock exactly? That -is just our breakfast time. Can I let my husband breakfast alone? He -would never hinder me from going to high mass, he has said so a thousand -times, only he has always added, "When you want to go to mass during -breakfast time, I only ask one thing--it is to give me notice the day -before, so that I may invite some friends to keep me company." - -Madame H--But only fancy, pet, our two husbands could not be more alike -if they were brothers. Leon has always said, "My dear little chicken--" - -Madame F--Ha! ha! ha! - -Madame H--Yes, that is his name for me; you know how lively he is. He -has always said to me, then, "My dear little chicken, I am not a man to -do violence to your opinions, but in return give way to me as regards -some of your pious practices." I only give you the mere gist of it; it -was said with a thousand delicacies, which I suppress. And I have agreed -by degrees, . . . so that, while only paying very little attention to -the outward observances of religion, I have remained, as I told you, a -bar of iron as regards dogmas. Oh! as to that, I would not give way an -inch, a hair-breadth, and Leon is the first to tell me that I am right. -After all, dogma is everything; practice, well, what would you? If I -could bring Leon round, it would be quite another thing. How glad I am -to have spoken to you about all this. - -Madame F--Have we not been chattering? But it is half-past five, and I -must go and take my cinchona bark. Thirty minutes before meals, it is a -sacred duty. Will you come, pet? - -Madame H--Stop a moment, I have lost my thimble again and must find it. - - - - -ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: - -But she thinks she is affording you pleasure -Do not seek too much -First impression is based upon a number of trifles -Sometimes like to deck the future in the garments of the past -The heart requires gradual changes - - - - -End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of TMonsieur, Madame, and Bebe, v2 -by Gustave Droz - - - - - - -MONSIEUR, MADAME AND BEBE - -By GUSTAVE DROZ - - - -BOOK 3. - - -CHAPTER XX - -THE HOT-WATER BOTTLE - -When midnight strikes, when the embers die away into ashes, when the lamp -burns more feebly and your eyes close in spite of yourself, the best -thing to do, dear Madame, is to go to bed. - -Get up from your armchair, take off your bracelets, light your -rosecolored taper, and proceed slowly, to the soft accompaniment of your -trailing skirt, rustling across the carpet, to your dressing-room, that -perfumed sanctuary in which your beauty, knowing itself to be alone, -raises its veils, indulges in self-examination, revels in itself and -reckons up its treasures as a miser does his wealth. - -Before the muslin-framed mirror, which reveals all that it sees so well, -you pause carelessly and with a smile give one long satisfied look, then -with two fingers you withdraw the pin that kept up your hair, and its -long, fair tresses unroll and fall in waves, veiling your bare shoulders. -With a coquettish hand, the little finger of which is turned up, you -caress, as you gather them together, the golden flood of your abundant -locks, while with the other you pass through them the tortoiseshell comb -that buries itself in the depths of this fair forest and bends with the -effort. - -Your tresses are so abundant that your little hand can scarcely grasp -them. They are so long that your outstretched arm scarcely reaches their -extremity. Hence it is not without difficulty that you manage to twist -them up and imprison them in your embroidered night-cap. - -This first duty accomplished, you turn the silver tap, and the pure and -limpid water pours into a large bowl of enamelled porcelain. You throw -in a few drops of that fluid which perfumes and softens the skin, and -like a nymph in the depths of a quiet wood preparing for the toilet, you -remove the drapery that might encumber you. - -But what, Madame, you frown? Have I said too much or not enough? Is it -not well known that you love cold water; and do you think it is not -guessed that at the contact of the dripping sponge you quiver from head -to foot? - -But what matters it, your toilette for the night is completed, you are -fresh, restored, and white as a nun in your embroidered dressing-gown, -you dart your bare feet into satin slippers and reenter your bedroom, -shivering slightly. To see you walking thus with hurried steps, wrapped -tightly in your dressing-gown, and with your pretty head hidden in its -nightcap, you might be taken for a little girl leaving the confessional -after confessing some terrible sin. - -Gaining the bedside, Madame lays aside her slippers, and lightly and -without effort, bounds into the depths of the alcove. - -However, Monsieur, who was already asleep with his nose on the Moniteur, -suddenly wakes up at the movement imparted to the bed. - -"I thought that you were in bed already, dear," he murmurs, falling off -to sleep again. "Good-night." - -"If I had been in bed you would have noticed it." Madame stretches out -her feet and moves them about; she seems to be in quest of something. "I -am not in such a hurry to go to sleep as you are, thank goodness." - -Monsieur, suddenly and evidently annoyed, says: "But what is the matter, -my dear? You fidget and fidget--I want to sleep." He turns over as he -speaks. - -"I fidget! I am simply feeling for my hot-water bottle; you are -irritating." - -"Your hot-water bottle?" is Monsieur's reply, with a grunt. - -"Certainly, my hot-water bottle, my feet are frozen." She goes on -feeling for it. "You are really very amiable this evening; you began by -dozing over the 'Revue des Deux Mondes', and I find you snoring over the -'Moniteur'. In your place I should vary my literature. I am sure you -have taken my hot-water bottle." - -"I have been doing wrong. I will subscribe to the 'Tintamarre' in -future. Come, good-night, my dear." He turns over. "Hello, your hot- -water bottle is right at the bottom of the bed; I can feel it with the -tips of my toes." - -"Well, push it up; do you think that I can dive down there after it?" - -"Shall I ring for your maid to help you?" He makes a movement of ill- -temper, pulls the clothes up to his chin, and buries his head in the -pillow. "Goodnight, my dear." - -Madame, somewhat vexed, says: "Good-night, goodnight." - -The respiration of Monsieur grows smooth, and even his brows relax, his -forehead becomes calm, he is on the point of losing all consciousness of -the realities of this life. - -Madame taps lightly on her husband's shoulder. - -"Hum," growls Monsieur. - -Madame taps again. - -"Well, what is it?" - -Madame, in an angelic tone of voice, "My dear, would you put out the -candle?" - -Monsieur, without opening his eyes, "The hot-water bottle, the candle, -the candle, the hot-water bottle." - -"Good heavens! how irritable you are, Oscar. I will put it out myself. -Don't trouble yourself. You really have a very bad temper, my dear; you -are angry, and if you were goaded a little, you would, in five minutes, -be capable of anything." - -Monsieur, his voice smothered in the pillow, "No, not at all; I am -sleepy, dear, that is all. Good-night, my dear." - -Madame, briskly, "You forget that in domestic life good feeling has for -its basis reciprocal consideration." - -"I was wrong--come, good-night." He raises himself up a little. "Would -you like me to kiss you?" - -"I don't want you to, but I permit." She puts her face toward that of -her husband, who kisses her on the forehead. "You are really too good, -you have kissed my nightcap." - -Monsieur, smiling, "Your hair smells very nice . . . You see I am so -sleepy. Ah! you have it in little plaits, you are going to wave it -to-morrow." - -"To wave it. You were the first to find that that way of dressing it -became me, besides, it is the fashion, and tomorrow is my reception day. -Come, you irritable man, embrace me once for all and snore at your ease, -you are dying to do so." - -She holds her neck toward her husband. - -Monsieur, laughing, "In the first place, I never snore. I never joke." -He kisses his wife's neck, and rests his head on her shoulder. - -"Well, what are you doing there?" is her remark. - -"I am digesting my kiss." - -Madame affects the lackadaisical, and looks sidewise at her husband with -an eye half disarmed. Monsieur sniffs the loved perfume with open -nostrils. - -After a period of silence he whispers in his wife's ear, "I am not at all -sleepy now, dear. Are your feet still cold? I will find the hot-water -bottle." - -"Oh, thanks, put out the light and let us go to sleep; I am quite tired -out." - -She turns round by resting her arm on his face. - -"No, no, I won't have you go to sleep with your feet chilled; there is -nothing worse. There, there is the hot-water bottle, warm your poor -little feet . . . there . . . like that." - -"Thanks, I am very comfortable. Good-night, dear, let us go to sleep." - -"Good-night, my dear." - -After a long silence Monsieur turns first on one side and then on the -other, and ends by tapping lightly on his wife's shoulder. - -Madame, startled, "What is the matter? Good heavens! how you startled -me!" - -Monsieur, smiling, "Would you be kind enough to put out the candle?" - -"What! is it for that you wake me up in the middle of my sleep? I shall -not be able to doze again. You are unbearable." - -"You find me unbearable?" He comes quite close to his wife; "Come, let -me explain my idea to you." - -Madame turns round--her eye meets the eye . . . full of softness . . -of her husband. "Dear me," she says, "you are a perfect tiger." - -Then, putting her mouth to his ear, she murmurs with a smile, "Come, -explain your idea, for the sake of peace and quiet." - -Madame, after a very long silence, and half asleep, "Oscar!" - -Monsieur, his eyes closed, in a faint voice, "My dear." - -"How about the candle? it is still alight." - -"Ah! the candle. I will put it out. If you were very nice you would -give me a share of your hot-water bottle; one of my feet is frozen. -Good-night." - -"Good-night." - -They clasp hands and fall asleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -A LONGING - - MONSIEUR and MADAME are quietly sitting together--The clock has just - struck ten--MONSIEUR is in his dressing-gown and slippers, is - leaning back in an armchair and reading the newspaper--MADAME is - carelessly working squares of laces. - -Madame--Such things have taken place, have they not, dear? - -Monsieur--(without raising his eyes)--Yes, my dear. - -Madame--There, well I should never have believed it. But they are -monstrous, are they not? - -Monsieur--(without raising his eyes)--Yes, my dear. - -Madame--Well, and yet, see how strange it is, Louise acknowledged it to -me last month, you know; the evening she called for me to go to the -perpetual Adoration, and our hour of adoration, as it turned out, by the -way, was from six to seven; impossible, too, to change our turn; none of -the ladies caring to adore during dinner-time, as is natural enough. -Good heavens, what a rage we were in! How good God must be to have -forgiven you. Do you remember? - -Monsieur--(continuing to read)--Yes, dear. - -Madame--Ah! you remember that you said, 'I don't care a . . .' Oh! -but I won't repeat what you said, it is too naughty. How angry you were! -'I will go and dine at the restaurant, confound it!' But you did not say -confound, ha! ha! ha! Well, I loved you just the same at that moment; -it vexed me to see you in a rage on God's account, but for my own part I -was pleased; I like to see you in a fury; your nostrils expand, and then -your moustache bristles, you put me in mind of a lion, and I have always -liked lions. When I was quite a child at the Zoological Gardens they -could not get me away from them; I threw all my sous into their cage for -them to buy gingerbread with; it was quite a passion. Well, to continue -my story. (She looks toward her husband who is still reading, and after -a pause,) Is it interesting-that which you are reading? - -Monsieur--(like a man waking up)--What is it, my dear child? What I am -reading? Oh, it would scarcely interest you. (With a grimace.) There -are Latin phrases, you know, and, besides, I am hoarse. But I am -listening, go, on. (He resumes his newspaper.) - -Madame--Well, to return to the perpetual Adoration, Louise confided to -me, under the pledge of secrecy, that she was like me. - -Monsieur--Like you? What do you mean? - -Madame--Like me; that is plain enough. - -Monsieur--You are talking nonsense, my little angel, follies as great as -your chignon. You women will end by putting pillows into your chignons. - -Madame--(resting her elbows on her husband's knees)--But, after all, the -instincts, the resemblances we have, must certainly be attributed to -something. Can any one imagine, for instance, that God made your cousin -as stupid as he is, and with a head like a pear? - -Monsieur--My cousin! my cousin! Ferdinand is only a cousin by marriage. -I grant, however, that he is not very bright. - -Madame--Well, I am sure that his mother must have had a longing, or -something. - -Monsieur--What can I do to help it, my angel? - -Madame--Nothing at all; but it clearly shows that such things are not to -be laughed at; and if I were to tell you that I had a longing-- - -Monsieur--(letting fall his newspaper)--The devil! a longing for what? - -Madame--Ah! there your nostrils are dilating; you are going to resemble a -lion again, and I never shall dare to tell you. It is so extraordinary, -and yet my mother had exactly the same longing. - -Monsieur--Come, tell it me, you see that I am patient. If it is possible -to gratify it, you know that I love you, my . . . Don't kiss me on the -neck; you will make me jump up to the ceiling, my darling. - -Madame--Repeat those two little words. I am your darling, then? - -Monsieur--Ha! ha! ha! She has little fingers which --ha! ha!-- -go into your neck--ha! ha!--you will make me break something, nervous as I -am. - -Madame--Well, break something. If one may not touch one's husband, one -may as well go into a convent at once. (She puts her lips to MONSIEUR'S -ear and coquettishly pulls the end of his moustache.) I shall not be -happy till I have what I am longing for, and then it would be so kind of -you to do it. - -Monsieur--Kind to do what? Come, dear, explain yourself. - -Madame--You must first of all take off that great, ugly dressing-gown, -pull on your boots, put on your hat and go. Oh, don't make any faces; -if you grumble in the least all the merit of your devotedness will -disappear . . . and go to the grocer's at the corner of the street, -a very respectable shop. - -Monsieur--To the grocer's at ten o'clock at night! Are you mad? I will -ring for John; it is his business. - -Madame (staying his hand) You indiscreet man. These are our own private -affairs; we must not take any one into our confidence. I will go into -your dressing-room to get your things, and you will put your boots on -before the fire comfortably . . . to please me, Alfred, my love, my -life. I would give my little finger to have . . . - -Monsieur--To have what, hang it all, what, what, what? - -Madame--(her face alight and fixing her eyes on him)--I want a sou's -worth of paste. Had not you guessed it? - -Monsieur--But it is madness, delirium, fol-- - -Madame--I said paste, dearest; only a sou's worth, wrapped in strong -paper. - -Monsieur--No, no. I am kind-hearted, but I should reproach myself-- - -Madame--(closing his mouth with her little hands)--Oh, not a word; you -are going to utter something naughty. But when I tell you that I have a -mad longing for it, that I love you as I have never loved you yet, that -my mother had the same desire--Oh! my poor mother (she weeps in her -hands), if she could only know, if she were not at the other end of -France. You have never cared for my parents; I saw that very well on our -wedding-day, and (she sobs) it will be the sorrow of my whole life. - -Monsieur--(freeing himself and suddenly rising)--Give me my boots. - -Madame--(with effusion)--Oh, thanks, Alfred, my love, you are good, yes, -you are good. Will you have your walking-stick, dear? - -Monsieur--I don't care. How much do you want of that abomination--a -franc's worth, thirty sous' worth, a louis' worth? - -Madame--You know very well that I would not make an abuse of it-only a -sou's worth. I have some sous for mass; here, take one. Adieu, Alfred; -be quick; be quick! - -(Exit MONSIEUR.) - -Left alone, Madame wafts a kiss in her most tender fashion toward the -door Monsieur has just closed behind him, then goes toward the glass and -smiles at herself with pleasure. Then she lights the wax candle in a -little candlestick, and quietly makes her way to the kitchen, noiselessly -opens a press, takes out three little dessert plates, bordered with gold -and ornamented with her initials, next takes from a box lined with white -leather, two silver spoons, and, somewhat embarrassed by all this -luggage, returns to her bedroom. - -Then she pokes the fire, draws a little buhl table close up to the -hearth, spreads a white cloth, sets out the plates, puts the spoons by -them, and enchanted, impatient, with flushed complexion, leans back in an -armchair. Her little foot rapidly taps the floor, she smiles, pouts-- -she is waiting. - -At last, after an interval of some minutes, the outer door is heard to -close, rapid steps cross the drawingroom, Madame claps her hands and -Monsieur comes in. He does not look very pleased, as he advances holding -awkwardly in his left hand a flattened parcel, the contents of which may -be guessed. - -Madame--(touching a gold-bordered plate and holding it out to her -husband)--Relieve yourself of it, dear. Could you not have been quicker? - -Monsieur--Quicker? - -Madame--Oh! I am not angry with you, that is not meant for a reproach, -you are an angel; but it seems to me a century since you started. - -Monsieur--The man was just going to shut his shop up. My gloves are -covered with it . . . it's sticky . . . it's horrid, pah! the -abomination! At last I shall have peace and quietness. - -Madame--Oh! no harsh words, they hurt me so. But look at this pretty -little table, do you remember how we supped by the fireside? Ah! you -have forgotten it, a man's heart has no memory. - -Monsieur--Are you so mad as to imagine that I am going to touch it? Oh! -indeed! that is carrying-- - -Madame--(sadly)--See what a state you get in over a little favor I ask of -you. If in order to please me you were to overcome a slight repugnance, -if you were just to touch this nice, white jelly with you lips, where -would be the harm? - -Monsieur--The harm! the harm! it would be ridiculous. Never. - -Madame--That is the reason? "It would be absurd." It is not from -disgust, for there is nothing disgusting there, it is flour and water, -nothing more. It is not then from a dislike, but out of pride that you -refuse? - -Monsieur--(shrugging his shoulders)--What you say is childish, puerile, -silly. I do not care to answer it. - -Madame--And what you say is neither generous nor worthy of you, since you -abuse your superiority. You see me at your feet pleading for an -insignificant thing, puerile, childish, foolish, perhaps, but one which -would give me pleasure, and you think it heroic not to yield. Do you -want me to speak out, well? then, you men are unfeeling. - -Monsieur--Never. - -Madame--Why, you admitted it to me yourself one night, on the Pont des -Arts, as we were walking home from the theatre. - -Monsieur--After all, there is no great harm in that. - -Madame--(sadly)--I am not angry with you, this sternness is part of your -nature, you are a rod of iron. - -Monsieur--I have some energy when it is needed, I grant you, but I have -not the absurd pride you imagine, and there (he dips his finger in the -paste and carries it to his lips), is the proof, you spoilt child. Are -you satisfied? It has no taste, it is insipid. - -Madame--You were pretending. - -Monsieur--I swear to you . . . - -Madame (taking a little soon, filling it with her precious paste and -holding it to her husband's lips)--I want to see the face you will make, -love. - -Monsieur--(Puts out his lips, buries his two front teeth, with marked -disgust, in the paste, makes a horrible face and spits into the -fireplace)--Eugh. - -Madame--(still holding the spoon and with much interest) Well? - -Monsieur--Well! it is awful! oh! awful! taste it. - -Madame--(dreamily stirring the paste with the spoon, her little finger in -the air)--I should never have believed that it was so nasty. - -Monsieur--You will soon see for yourself, taste it, taste it. - -Madame--I am in no hurry, I have plenty of time. - -Monsieur--To see what it is like. Taste a little, come. - -Madame--(pushing away the plate with a look of horror)--Oh! how you -worry me. Be quiet, do; for a trifle I could hate you. It is -disgusting, this paste of yours! - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -FAMILY LIFE - -It was the evening of the 15th of February. It was dreadfully cold. The -snow drove against the windows and the wind whistled furiously under the -doors. My two aunts, seated at a table in one corner of the drawing- -room, gave vent from time to time to deep sighs, and, wriggling in their -armchairs, kept casting uneasy glances toward the bedroom door. One of -them had taken from a little leather bag placed on the table her blessed -rosary and was repeating her prayers, while her sister was reading a -volume of Voltaire's correspondence which she held at a distance from her -eyes, her lips moving as she perused it. - -For my own part, I was striding up and down the room, gnawing my -moustache, a bad habit I have never been able to get rid of, and halting -from time to time in front of Dr. C., an old friend of mine, who was -quietly reading the paper in the most comfortable of the armchairs. -I dared not disturb him, so absorbed did he seem in what he was reading, -but in my heart I was furious to see him so quiet when I myself was so -agitated. - -Suddenly he tossed the paper on to the couch and, passing his hand across -his bald and shining head, said: - -"Ah! if I were a minister, it would not take long, no, it would not be -very long . . . . You have read that article on Algerian cotton. One -of two things, either irrigation . . . . But you are not listening to -me, and yet it is a more serious matter than you think." - -He rose, and with his hands in his pocket, walked across the room humming -an old medical student's song. I followed him closely. - -"Jacques," said I, as he turned round, "tell me frankly, are you -satisfied?" - -"Yes, yes, I am satisfied . . . observe my untroubled look," and he -broke into his hearty and somewhat noisy laugh. - -"You are not hiding anything from me, my dear fellow?" - -"What a donkey you are, old fellow. I tell you that everything is going -on well." - -And he resumed his song, jingling the money in his pockets. - -"All is going on well, but it will take some time," he went on. "Let me -have one of your dressing-gowns. I shall be more comfortable for the -night, and these ladies will excuse me, will they not?" - -"Excuse you, I should think so, you, the doctor, and my friend!" I felt -devotedly attached to him that evening. - -"Well, then, if they will excuse me, you can very well let me have a pair -of slippers." - -At this moment a cry came from the next room and we distinctly heard -these words in a stifled voice: - -"Doctor . . . oh! mon Dieu! . . . doctor!" - -"It is frightful," murmured my aunts. - -"My dear friend," I exclaimed, seizing the doctor's arm," you are quite -sure you are not concealing anything from me?" - -"If you have a very loose pair they will suit me best; I have not the -foot of a young girl . . . . I am not concealing anything, I am not -concealing anything . . . . What do you think I should hide from you? -It is all going on very well, only as I said it will take time-- By the -way, tell Joseph to get me one of your smokingcaps; once in dressing-gown -and slippers a smokingcap is not out of the way, and I am getting bald, -my dear Captain. How infernally cold it is here! These windows face the -north, and there are no sand-bags. Mademoiselle de V.," he added, -turning to my aunt, "you will catch cold." - -Then as other sounds were heard, he said: "Let us go and see the little -lady." - -"Come here," said my wife, who had caught sight of me, in a low voice, -"come here and shake hands with me." Then she drew me toward her and -whispered in my ear: "You will be pleased to kiss the little darling, -won't you?" Her voice was so faint and so tender as she said this, and -she added: "Do not take your hand away, it gives me courage." - -I remained beside her, therefore, while the doctor, who had put on my -dressing-gown, vainly strove to button it. - -From time to time my poor little wife squeezed my hand violently, closing -her eyes, but not uttering a cry. The fire sparkled on the hearth. The -pendulum of the clock went on with its monotonous ticking, but it seemed -to me that all this calm was only apparent, that everything about me must -be in a state of expectation like myself and sharing my emotion. In the -bedroom beyond, the door of which was ajar, I could see the end of the -cradle and the shadow of the nurse who was dozing while she waited. - -What I felt was something strange. I felt a new sentiment springing up -in my heart, I seemed to have some foreign body within my breast, and -this sweet sensation was so new to me that I was, as it were, alarmed at -it. I felt the little creature, who was there without yet being there, -clinging to me; his whole life unrolled itself before me. I saw him at -the same time a child and a grown-up man; it seemed to me that my own -life was about to be renewed in his and I felt from time to time an -irresistible need of giving him something of myself. - -Toward half-past eleven, the doctor, like a captain consulting his -compass, pulled out his watch, muttered something and drew near the bed. - -"Come, my dear lady," said he to my wife, "courage, we are all round you -and all is going well; within five minutes you will hear him cry out." - -My mother-in-law, almost beside herself, was biting her lips and each -pang of the sufferer was reflected upon her face. Her cap had got -disarranged in such a singular fashion that, under any other -circumstances, I should have burst out laughing. At that moment I heard -the drawing-room door open and saw the heads of my aunts, one above the -other, and behind them that of my father, who was twisting his heavy -white moustache with a grimace that was customary to him. - -"Shut the door," cried the doctor, angrily, "don't bother me." - -And with the greatest coolness in the world he turned to my mother-in-law -and added, "I ask a thousand pardons." - -But just then there was something else to think of than my old friend's -bluntness. - -"Is everything ready to receive him?" he continued, growling. - -"Yes, my dear doctor," replied my mother-in-law. - -At length, the doctor lifted into the air a little object which almost -immediately uttered a cry as piercing as a needle. I shall never forget -the impression produced on me by this poor little thing, making its -appearance thus, all of a sudden, in the middle of the family. We had -thought and dreamed of it; I had seen him in my mind's eye, my darling -child, playing with a hoop, pulling my moustache, trying to walk, or -gorging himself with milk in his nurse's arms like a gluttonous little -kitten; but I had never pictured him to myself, inanimate, almost -lifeless, quite tiny, wrinkled, hairless, grinning, and yet, charming, -adorable, and be loved in spite of all-poor, ugly, little thing. It was -a strange impression, and so singular that it is impossible to understand -it, without having experienced it. - -"What luck you have!" said the doctor, holding the child toward me; "it -is a boy." - -"A boy!" - -"And a fine one." - -"Really, a boy!" - -That was a matter of indifference to me now. What was causing me -indescribable emotion was the living proof of paternity, this little -being who was my own. I felt stupefied in presence of the great mystery -of childbirth. My wife was there, fainting, overcame, and the little -living creature, my own flesh, my own blood, was squalling and -gesticulating in the hands of Jacques. I was overwhelmed, like a workman -who had unconsciously produced a masterpiece. I felt myself quite small -in presence of this quivering piece of my own handiwork, and, frankly, a -little bit ashamed of having made it so well almost without troubling -about it. I can not undertake to explain all this, I merely relate my -impressions. - -My mother-in-law held out her apron and the doctor placed the child on -his grandmother's knees, saying: "Come, little savage, try not to be any -worse than your rascal of a father. Now for five minutes of emotion. -Come, Captain, embrace me." - -We did so heartily. The doctor's little black eyes twinkled more -brightly than usual; I saw very well that he was moved. - -"Did it make you feel queer, Captain? I mean the cry? Ah! I know it, -it is like a needle through the heart . . . . Where is the nurse? -Ah! here she is. No matter, he is a fine boy, your little lancer. -Open the door for the prisoners in the drawing-room." - -I opened the door. Every one was listening on the other side of it. My -father, my two aunts, still holding in their hands, one her rosary and -the other her Voltaire, my own nurse, poor old woman, who had come in a -cab. - -"Well," they exclaimed anxiously, "well?" - -"It is all over, it is a boy; go in, he is there." - -You can not imagine how happy I was to see on all their faces the -reflection of my own emotion. They embraced me and shook hands with me, -and I responded to all these marks of affection without exactly knowing -where they came from. - -"Damn it all!" muttered my father, in my ear, holding me in his arms, -with his stick still in his hand and his hat on his head, "Damn it all!" - -But he could not finish, however brave he might wish to appear; a big -tear was glittering at the tip of his nose. He muttered "Hum!" under -his moustache and finally burst into tears on my shoulder, saying: "I can -not help it." - -And I did likewise--I could not help it either. - -However, everybody was flocking round the grandmamma, who lifted up a -corner of her apron and said: - -"How pretty he is, the darling, how pretty! Nurse, warm the linen, give -me the caps." - -"Smile at your aunty," said my aunt, jangling her rosary above the baby's -head, "smile at aunty." - -"Ask him at the same time to recite a fable," said the doctor. - -Meanwhile my wife was coming to herself; she half opened her eyes and -seemed to be looking for something. - -"Where is he?" she murmured in a faint voice. - -They showed her her mother's apron. - -"A boy, is it not?" - -Taking my hand, she drew me down toward her and said in a whisper, -"Are you satisfied with me? I did my best, dear." - -"Come, no emotion," exclaimed the doctor, "you shall kiss each other -tomorrow. Colonel," he said to my father, who still retained his hat and -stick, "keep them from kissing. No emotion, and every one outside. I am -going to dress the little lancer. Give me the little man, grandmamma. -Come here, little savage. You shall see whether I don't know how to -fasten pins in." - -He took the baby in his two large hands and sat down on a stool before -the fire. - -I watched my boy whom Jacques was turning about like a doll, but with -great skill. He examined him all over, touching and feeling him, and at -each test said with a smile: - -"He is a fine one, he is a fine one." - -Then he rolled him up in his clothes, put a triple cap on his little bald -head, tied a folded ribbon under his chin to prevent his head falling -backward, and then, satisfied with his work, said: - -"You saw how I did it, nurse? Well, you must dress this lancer every -morning in the same way. Nothing but a little sugar and water till to- -morrow. The mother has no fever. Come, all is going on well. - -Lucky Captain! I am so hungry. Do you know that it is one in the -morning? You haven't got cold partridge or a bit of pie that you don't -know what to do with, have you? It would suit me down to the ground, -with a bottle of something." - -We went both into the dining-room and laid the cloth without any more -ceremony. - -I never in my life ate and drank so much as on that occasion. - -"Come, get off to bed," said the doctor, putting on his coat. "To-morrow -morning you shall have the wet-nurse. No, by the way, I'll call for you, -and we will go and choose her together; it is curious. Be under arms at -half-past eight." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -NEW YEAR'S DAY - -It is barely seven o'clock. A pale ray of daylight is stealing through -the double curtains, and already some one is tapping at the door. I can -hear in the next room from the stifled laughter and the silvery tones of -Baby, who is quivering with impatience, and asking leave to come in. - -"Papa," he cries, "it is Baby, it is Baby come for the New Year." - -"Come in, my darling; come quick, and kiss us." - -The door opens and my boy, his eyes aglow, and his arms raised, rushes -toward the bed. His curls, escaping from the nightcap covering his head, -float on his forehead. His long, loose night-shirt, catching his little -feet, increases his impatience, and causes him to stumble at every step. - -At length he crosses the room, and, holding out his two hands to mine: -"Baby wishes you a Happy New Year," he says, in an earnest voice. - -"Poor little love, with his bare feet! Come, darling, and warm yourself -under the counterpane." - -I lift him toward me, but at this moment my wife, who is asleep, suddenly -wakes. - -"Who is there?" she exclaims, feeling for the bell. "Thieves!" - -"It is we two, dear." - -"Who? Good heavens! how you frightened me! I was dreaming the house -was on fire, and that I heard your voice amid the raging flames. You -were very indiscreet in shouting like that!" - -"Shouting! but you forget, mamma, that it is New Year's Day, the day of -smiles and kisses? Baby was waiting for you to wake up, as well as -myself." - -However, I wrap the little fellow up in the eiderdown quilt and warm his -cold feet in my hands. - -"Mamma, it is New Year's Day," he exclaims. With his arms he draws our -two heads together, puts forward his own and kisses us at haphazard with -his moist lips. I feel his dimpled fists digging into my neck, his -little fingers entangled in my beard. - -My moustache tickles the tip of his nose, and he bursts into a fit of -joyous laughter as he throws his head back. - -His mother, who has recovered from her fright, takes him in her arms and -rings the bell. - -"The year is beginning well, dear," she says, "but we must have a little -daylight." - -"Mamma, naughty children don't have any new toys on New Year's Day, do -they?" - -And as he says this the sly fellow eyes a pile of parcels and packages -heaped up in one corner, visible despite the semidarkness. - -Soon the curtains are drawn aside, and the shutters opened; daylight -floods the room; the fire crackles merrily on the hearth, and two large -parcels, carefully tied up, are placed on the bed. One is for my wife, -and the other for my boy. - -"What is it? What is it?" I have multiplied the knots and tripled the -wrappings, and I gleefully follow their impatient fingers entangled among -the strings. - -My wife gets impatient, smiles, pouts, kisses me, and asks for the -scissors. - -Baby on his side tugs with all his might, biting his lips as he does so, -and ends by asking my help. His look strives to penetrate the wrappers. -All the signs of desire and expectation are stamped on his face. His -hand, hidden under the coverlet, causes the silk to rustle with his -convulsive movements, and his lips quiver as at the approach of some -dainty. - -At length the last paper falls aside. The lid is lifted, and joy breaks -forth. - -"A fur tippet!" - -"A Noah's ark!" - -"To match my muff, dear, kind husband." - -"With a Noah on wheels, dear papa. I do love you so." - -They throw themselves on my neck, four arms are clasped round me at once. -Emotion gets the better of me, and a tear steals into my eye. There are -two in those of my wife, and Baby, losing his head, sobs as he kisses my -hand. - -It is absurd. - -Absurd, I don't know; but delightful, I can answer for it. - -Does not grief, after all, call forth enough tears for us to forgive joy -the solitary one she perchance causes us to shed! - -Life is not so sweet for us to risk ourselves in it singlehanded, and -when the heart is empty the way seems very long. - -It is so pleasant to feel one's self loved, to hear beside one the -cadenced steps of one's fellow-travellers, and to say, "They are here, -our three hearts beat in unison." So pleasant once a year, when the -great clock strikes the first of January, to sit down beside the path, -with hands locked together, and eyes fixed on the unknown dusty road -losing itself in the horizon, and to say, while embracing one another, -"We still love one another, my dear children; you rely on me, and I rely -on you. Let us have confidence, and walk steadfastly." - -This is how I explain that one may weep a little while examining a new -fur tippet and opening a Noah's ark. - -But breakfast time draws near. I have cut myself twice while shaving; -I have stepped on my son's wild beasts in turning round, and I have the -prospect of a dozen duty calls, as my wife terms them, before me; yet I -am delighted. - -We sit down to the breakfast table, which has a more than usually festive -aspect. A faint aroma of truffles perfumes the air, every one is -smiling, and through the glass I see, startling sight! the doorkeeper, -with his own hands, wiping the handrail of the staircase. It is a -glorious day. - -Baby has ranged his elephants, lions, and giraffes round his plate, and -his mother, under pretext of a draught, breakfasts in her tippet. - -"Have you ordered the carriage, dear, for our visits?" I ask. - -"That cushion for Aunt Ursula will take up such a deal of room. It might -be put beside the coachman." - -"Poor aunt." - -"Papa, don't let us go to Aunt Ursula," said Baby; "she pricks so when -she kisses you." - -"Naughty boy . . . . Think of all we have to get into the carriage. -Leon's rocking-horse, Louise's muff, your father's slippers, Ernestine's -quilt, the bonbons, the work-box. I declare, aunt's cushion must go -under the coachman's feet." - -"Papa, why doesn't the giraffe eat cutlets?" - -"I really don't know, dear." - -"Neither do I, papa." - -An hour later we are ascending the staircase leading to Aunt Ursula's. -My wife counts the steps as she pulls herself up by the hand-rail, and I -carry the famous cushion, the bonbons, and my son, who has insisted on -bringing his giraffe with him. - -Aunt Ursula, who produces the same effect on him as the sight of a rod -would, is waiting us in her icy little drawing-room. Four square -armchairs, hidden beneath yellow covers, stand vacant behind four little -mats. A clock in the shape of a pyramid, surmounted on a sphere, ticks -under a glass case. - -A portrait on the wall, covered with fly-spots, shows a nymph with a -lyre, standing beside a waterfall. This nymph was Aunt Ursula. How she -has altered! - -"My dear aunt, we have come to wish you a Happy New Year." - -"To express our hopes that--" - -"Thank you, nephew, thank you, niece," and she points to two chairs. -"I am sensible of this step on your part; it proves to me that you have -not altogether forgotten the duties imposed upon you by family ties." - -"You are reckoning, my dear aunt, without the affection we feel for you, -and which of itself is enough . . . Baby, go and kiss your aunt." - -Baby whispers in my ear, "But, papa, I tell you she does prick." - -I place the bonbons on a side-table. - -"You can, nephew, dispense with offering me that little gift; you know -that sweetmeats disagree with me, and, if I were not aware of your -indifference as to the state of my health, I should see in your offering -a veiled sarcasm. But let that pass. Does your father still bear up -against his infirmities courageously?" - -"Thank you, yes." - -"I thought to please you, dear aunt," observes my wife, "by embroidering -for you this cushion, which I beg you to accept." - -"I thank you, child, but I can still hold myself sufficiently upright, -thank God, not to have any need of a cushion. The embroidery is -charming, it is an Oriental design. You might have made a better choice, -knowing that I like things much more simple. It is charming, however, -although this red next to the green here sets one's teeth on edge. Taste -in colors is, however, not given to every one. I have, in return, to -offer you my photograph, which that dear Abbe Miron insisted on my having -taken." - -"How kind you are, and how like you it is! Do you recognize your aunt, -Baby?" - -"Do not think yourself obliged to speak contrary to your opinion. This -photograph does not in any way resemble me, my eyes are much brighter. -I have also a packet of jujubes for your child. He seems to have grown." - -"Baby, go and kiss your aunt." - -"And then we shall go, mamma?" - -"You are very rude, my dear." - -"Let him speak out; at any rate, he is frank. But I see that your -husband is getting impatient, you have other . . . errands to fulfil; -I will not keep you. Besides, I am going to church to pray for those who -do not pray for themselves." - -From twelve duty calls, subtract one duty call, and eleven remain. Hum! -"Coachman, Rue St. Louis au Marais." - -"Papa, has Aunt Ursula needles in her chin?" - -Let us pass over the eleven duty calls, they are no more agreeable to -write of than to make. - -Toward seven o'clock, heaven be praised, the horses stop before my -father's, where dinner awaits us. Baby claps his hands, and smiles at -old Jeannette, who, at the sound of the wheels, has rushed to the door. -"Here they are," she exclaims, and she carries off Baby to the kitchen, -where my mother, with her sleeves turned up, is giving the finishing -touch to her traditional plum cake. - -My father, on his way to the cellar, lantern in hand, and escorted by his -old servant, Jean, who is carrying the basket, halts. "Why, children, -how late you are! Come to my arms, my dears; this is the day on which -one kisses in good earnest. Jean, hold my lantern a minute." And as my -old father clasps me to his breast, his hand seeks out mine and grasps -it, with a long clasp. Baby, who glides in between our legs, pulls our -coat-tails and holds up his little mouth for a kiss too. - -"But I am keeping you here in the anteroom and you are frozen; go into -the drawing-room, there are a good fire and good friends there." - -They have heard us, the door opens, and a number of arms are held out to -us. Amid handshakings, embracings, good wishes, and kisses, boxes are -opened, bonbons are showered forth, parcels are undone, mirth becomes -deafening, and good humor tumultuous. Baby standing amid his presents -resembles a drunken man surrounded by a treasure, and from time to time -gives a cry of joy on discovering some fresh toy. - -"The little man's fable," exclaims my father, swinging his lantern which -he has taken again from Jean. - -A deep silence ensues, and the poor child, whose debut in the -elocutionary art it is, suddenly loses countenance. He casts down his -eyes, blushes and takes refuge in the arms of his mother, who, stooping -down, whispers, "Come, darling, 'A lamb was quenching'; you know the wolf -and the lamb." - -"Yes, mamma, I know the little lamb that wanted to drink." And in a -contrite voice, his head bent down on his breast, he repeats with a deep -sigh, "'A little lamb was quenching his thirst in a clear stream."' - -We all, with ears on the alert and a smile on our lips, follow his -delightful little jargon. - -Uncle Bertrand, who is rather deaf, has made an ear trumpet of his hand -and drawn his chair up. "Ah! I can follow it," he says. "It is the fox -and the grapes." And as there is a murmur of "Hush," at this -interruption, he adds: "Yes, yes, he recites with intelligence, great -intelligence." - -Success restores confidence to my darling, who finishes his fable with a -burst of laughter. Joy is communicative, and we take our places at table -amid the liveliest mirth. - -"By the way," says my father, "where the deuce is my lantern. I have -forgotten all about the cellar. Jean, take your basket and let us go and -rummage behind the fagots." - -The soup is smoking, and my mother, after having glanced smilingly round -the table, plunges her ladle into the tureen. Give me the family dinner -table at which those we love are seated, at which we may risk resting our -elbows at dessert, and at which at thirty we once more taste the wine -offered at our baptism. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -LETTERS OF A YOUNG MOTHER TO HER FRIEND. - -The little caps are the ones I want, Marie. Be good enough to send me -the pattern of the braces, those of your own invention, you know. Thanks -for your coverlet, it is soft, flexible, warm, and charming, and Baby, -amid its white wool, looks like a rosebud hidden in the snow. I am -becoming poetical, am I not? But what would you have? My poor heart is -overflowing with joy. My son, do you understand that, dear, my own son? -When I heard the sharp cry of the little being whom my mother showed me -lying in her apron, it seemed to me that a burning thrill of love shot -through my veins. My old doctor's bald head was close to me, I caught -hold of it and kissed him thrice. - -"Calm yourself, my dear child," said he. - -"Doctor, be quiet, or I will kiss you again. Give me my baby, my love. -Are you quite sure it is a boy?" - -And in the adjoining drawing-room, where the whole family were waiting, I -could hear amid the sound of kisses, the delightful words, "It is a boy, -a fine boy." - -My poor husband, who for twelve hours had not left me, overcome with -fatigue and emotion, was crying and laughing in one corner of the room. - -"Come, nurse, swaddle him, quick now. No pins, confound it all, strings, -I will have strings. What? Give me the child, you don't understand -anything about it." - -And the good doctor in the twinkling of an eye had dressed my child. - -"He looks a Colonel, your boy. Put him into the cradle with . . . now -be calm, my dear patient . . . with a hot-water bottle to his feet. -Not too much fire, especially in the Colonel's room. Now, no more noise, -repose, and every one out of the way." - -And as through the opening of the door which was just ajar, Aunt Ursula -whispered, "Doctor, let me come in; just to press her hand, doctor." - -"Confound it! every one must be off; silence and quiet are absolutely -necessary." They all left. - -"Octave," continued the doctor, "come and kiss your wife now, and make an -end of it. Good little woman, she has been very brave . . . . -Octave, come and kiss your wife, and be quick about it if you don't want -me to kiss her myself. I will do what I say," he added, threatening to -make good his words. - -Octave, buried in his child's cradle, did not hear. - -"Good, now he is going to suffocate my Colonel for me." - -My husband came at length. He held out his hand which was quivering with -emotion, and I grasped it with all my might. If my heart at that moment -did not break from excess of feeling, it was because God no doubt knew -that I should still have need of it. - -You know, dear Marie, that before a child comes we love each other as -husband and wife, but we love each other on our own account, while -afterward we love each other on his, the dear love, who with his tiny -hand has rivetted the chain forever. God, therefore, allows the heart to -grow and swell. Mine was full; nevertheless, my baby came and took his -place in it. Yet nothing overflowed, and I still feel that there is room -for mother and yourself. You told me, and truly, that this would be a -new life, a life of deep love and delightful devotion. All my past -existence seems trivial and colorless to me, and I perceive that I am -beginning to live. I am as proud as a soldier who has been in battle. -Wife and mother, those words are our epaulettes. Grandmother is the -field-marshal's baton. - -How sweet I shall render the existence of my two loved ones! - -How I shall cherish them! I am wild, I weep, I should like to kiss you. -I am afraid I am too happy. - -My husband is really good. He holds the child with such pleasing -awkwardness, it costs him such efforts to lift this slight burden. When -he brings it to me, wrapped in blankets, he walks with slow and careful -steps. One would think that the ground was going to crumble away beneath -his feet. Then he places the little treasure in my bed, quite close to -me, on a large pillow. We deck Baby; we settle him comfortably, and if -after many attempts we get him to smile, it is an endless joy. Often my -husband and I remain in the presence of this tiny creature, our heads -resting on our hands. We silently follow the hesitating and charming -movements of his little rosy-nailed hand on the silk, and we find in this -so deep a charm that it needs a considerable counter-attraction to tear -us away. - -We have most amusing discussions on the shape of his forehead and the -color of his eyes, which always end in grand projects for his future, -very silly, no doubt, but so fascinating. - -Octave wants him to follow a diplomatic career. He says that he has the -eye of a statesman and that his gestures, though few, are full of -meaning. Poor, dear little ambassador, with only three hairs on your -head! But what dear hairs they are, those threads of gold curling at the -back of his neck, just above the rosy fold where the skin is so fine and -so fresh that kisses nestle there of themselves. - -The whole of this little body has a perfume which intoxicates me and -makes my heart leap. What, dear friend, are the invisible ties which -bind us to our children? Is it an atom of our own soul, a part of our -own life, which animates and vivifies them? There must be something of -the kind, for I can read amid the mists of his little mind. I divine his -wishes, I know when he is cold, I can tell when he is hungry. - -Do you know the most delightful moment? It is when after having taken -his evening meal and gorged himself with milk like a gluttonous little -kitten, he falls asleep with his rosy cheek resting on my arm. His limbs -gently relax, his head sinks down on my breast, his eyes close, and his -half-opened mouth continues to repeat the action of suckling. - -His warm, moist breath brushes the hand that is supporting him. Then I -wrap him up snugly in my turned-up skirt, hide his little feet under his -clothes and watch my darling. I have him there, all to myself, on my -knees. There is not a quiver of his being that escapes me or that does -not vibrate in myself. I feel at the bottom of my heart a mirror that -reflects them all. He is still part of me. Is it not my milk that -nourishes him, my voice that hushes him off to sleep, my hand that -dresses and caresses, encourages and supports him? The feeling that I am -all in all for him further adds a delicious charm of protection to the -delight of having brought him into the world. - -When I think that there are women who pass by such joys without turning -their heads. The fools! - -Yes, the present is delightful and I am drunk with happiness. There is -also the future, far away in the clouds. I often think of it, and I do -not know why I shudder at the approach of a storm. - -Madness! I shall love him so discreetly, I shall render the weight of my -affection so light for him, that why should he wish to separate from me? -Shall I not in time become his friend? Shall I not when a black down -shadows those rosy little lips, when the bird, feeling its wings grown, -seeks to leave the nest, shall I not be able to bring him back by -invisible ties to the arms in which he now is sleeping? Perhaps at that -wretched moment they call a man's youth you will forget me, my little -darling! Other hands than mine perhaps will brush the hair away from -your forehead at twenty. Alas! other lips, pressed burningly where mine -are now pressed, will wipe out with a kiss twenty years of caresses. -Yes, but when you return from this intoxicating and fatiguing journey, -tired and exhausted, you will soon take refuge in the arms that once -nursed you, you will rest your poor, aching head where it rests now, you -will ask me to wipe away your tears and to make you forget the bruises -received on the way, and I shall give you, weeping for joy, the kiss -which at once consoles and fills with hope. - -But I see that I am writing a whole volume, dear Marie. I will not -re-read it or I should never dare to send it to you. What would you -have? I am losing my head a little. I am not yet accustomed to all this -happiness. - Yours affectionately. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -FOUR YEARS LATER - -Yes, my dear, he is a man and a man for good and all. He has come back -from the country half as big again and as bold as a lion. He climbs on -to the chairs, stops the clocks and sticks his hands in his pockets like -a grown-up person. - -When I see in the morning in the anteroom my baby's little shoes standing -proudly beside the paternal boots, I experience, despite myself, a return -toward that past which is yet so near. Yesterday swaddling clothes, -today boots, tomorrow spurs. Ah! how the happy days fly by. Already -four years old. I can scarcely carry him, even supposing he allowed me -to, for his manly dignity is ticklish. He passes half his life armed for -war, his pistols, his guns, his whips and his swords are all over the -place. There is a healthy frankness about all his doings that charms me. - -Do you imagine from this that my demon no longer has any good in him? At -times he is an angel and freely returns the caresses I bestow upon him. -In the evening after dinner he gets down into my armchair, takes my head -in his hands and arranges my hair in his own way. His fresh little mouth -travels all over my face. He imprints big sounding kisses on the back of -my neck, which makes me shudder all over. We have endless talks -together. "Why's" come in showers, and all these "why's" require real -answers; for the intelligence of children is above all things logical. -I will only give one of his sayings as a proof. - -His grandmother is rather unwell, and every night he tacks on to his -prayer these simple words, "Please God make Granny well, because I love -her so." But for greater certainty he has added on his own account, "You -know, God, Granny who lives in the Rue Saint-Louis, on the first floor." -He says all this with an expression of simple confidence and such comic -seriousness, the little love. You understand, it is to spare God the -trouble of looking for the address. - -I leave you; I hear him cough. I do not know whether he has caught cold, -but I think he has been looking rather depressed since the morning. Do -not laugh at me, I am not otherwise uneasy. - Yours most affectionately. - - -Yesterday there was a consultation. On leaving the house my old doctor's -eyes were moist; he strove to hide it, but I saw a tear. My child must -be very ill then? The thought is dreadful, dear. They seek to reassure -me, but I tremble. - -The night has not brought any improvement. Still this fever. If you -could see the state of the pretty little body we used to admire so. -I will not think of what God may have in store for me. Ice has been -ordered to be put to his head. His hair had to be cut off. Poor fair -little curls that used to float in the wind as he ran after his hoop. -It is terrible. I have dreadful forebodings. - -My child, my poor child! He is so weak that not a word comes now from -his pale parched lips. His large eyes that still shine in the depths of -their sockets, smile at me from time to time, but this smile is so -gentle, so faint, that it resembles a farewell. A farewell! But what -would become of me? - -This morning, thinking he was asleep, I could not restrain a sob. His -lips opened, and he said, but in a whisper so low that I had to put my -ear close down to catch it: "You do love me then, mamma?" - -Do I love him? I should die. - - - NICE. - -They have brought me here and I feel no better for it. Every day my -weakness increases. I still spit blood. Besides, what do they seek to -cure me of? - Yours as ever. - - -If I should never return to Paris, you will find in my wardrobe his last -toys; the traces of his little fingers are still visible on them. To the -left is the branch of the blessed box that used to hang at his bedside. -Let your hands alone touch all this. Burn these dear relics, this poor -evidence of shattered happiness. I can still see . . . Sobs are -choking me. - -Farewell, dear friend. What would you? I built too high on too unstable -a soil. I loved one object too well. - Yours from my heart. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -OLD RECOLLECTIONS - -Cover yourselves with fine green leaves, tall trees casting your peaceful -shade. Steal through the branches, bright sunlight, and you, studious -promenaders, contemplative idlers, mammas in bright toilettes, gossiping -nurses, noisy children, and hungry babies, take possession of your -kingdom; these long walks belong to you. - -It is Sunday. Joy and festivity. The gaufre seller decks his shop and -lights his stove. The white cloth is spread on the table and piles of -golden cakes attract the customer. - -The woman who lets out chairs has put on her apron with its big pockets -for sous. The park keeper, my dear little children, has curled his -moustache, polished up his harmless sword and put on his best uniform. -See how bright and attractive the marionette theatre looks in the -sunshine, under its striped covering. - -Sunday requires all this in its honor. - -Unhappy are those to whom the tall trees of Luxembourg gardens do not -recall one of those recollections which cling to the heart like its first -perfume to a vase. - -I was a General, under those trees, a General with a plume like a -mourning coach-horse, and armed to the teeth. I held command from the -hut of tile newspaper vendor to the kiosk of the gaufre seller. No false -modesty, my authority extended to the basin of the fountain, although the -great white swans rather alarmed me. Ambushes behind the tree trunks, -advanced posts behind the nursemaids, surprises, fights with cold steel; -attacks by skirmishers, dust, encounters, carnage and no bloodshed. -After which our mammas wiped our foreheads, rearranged our dishevelled -hair, and tore us away from the battle, of which we dreamed all night. - -Now, as I pass through the garden with its army of children and nurses, -leaning on my stick with halting step, how I regret my General's cocked -hat, my paper plume, my wooden sword and my pistol. My pistol that would -snap caps and was the cause of my rapid promotion. - -Disport yourselves, little folks; gossip, plump nurses, as you scold your -soldiers. Embroider peaceably, young mothers, making from time to time a -little game of your neighbors among yourselves; and you, reflective -idlers, look at that charming picture-babies making a garden. - -Playing in the sand, a game as old as the world and always amusing. -Hillocks built up in a line with little bits of wood stuck into them, -represent gardens in the walks of which baby gravely places his little -uncertain feet. What would he not give, dear little man, to be able to -complete his work by creating a pond in his park, a pond, a gutter, three -drops of water? - -Further on the sand is damper, and in the mountain the little fingers -pierce a tunnel. A gigantic work which the boot of a passer-by will soon -destroy. What passer-by respects a baby's mountain? Hence the young -rascal avenges himself. See that gentleman in the brown frockcoat, who -is reading the 'Revue des Deux Mondes' on the bench; our workers have -piled up hillocks of sand and dust around him, the skirts of his coat -have already lost their color. - -But let this equipage noisily dashing along go by. Four horses, two bits -of string, and a fifth horse who is the driver. That is all, and yet one -fancies one's self in a postchaise. How many places has one not visited -by nightfall? - -There are drivers who prefer to be horses, there are horses who would -rather be drivers; first symptoms of ambition. - -And the solitary baby who slowly draws his omnibus round the gaufre -seller, eyeing his shop! An indefatigable consumer, but a poor -paymaster. - -Do you see down there under the plane-trees that group of nurses, a herd -of Burgundian milch kine, and at their feet, rolling on a carpet, all -those little rosy cheeked philosophers who only ask God for a little -sunshine, pure milk, and quiet, in order to be happy. Frequently an -accident disturbs the delightful calm. The Burgundian who mistrusted -matters darts forward. It is too late. - -"The course of a river is not to be checked," says Giboyer. - -Sometimes the disaster is still more serious, and one repairs it as one -can; but the philosopher who loves these disasters is indignant and -squalls, swearing to himself to begin again. - -Those little folk are delightful; we love children, but this affection -for the species in general becomes yet more sweet when it is no longer a -question of a baby, but of one's own baby. - -Bachelors must not read what follows; I wish to speak to the family -circle. Between those of a trade there is a better understanding. - -I am a father, my dear madame, and have been of course the rejoicing papa -of a matchless child. From beneath his cap there escaped a fair and -curly tress that was our delight, and when I touched his white neck with -my finger he broke into a laugh and showed me his little white pearls, as -he clasped my head in his two chubby arms. - -His first tooth was an event. We went into the light the better to see. -The grandparents looked through their glasses at the little white spot, -and I, with outstretched neck, demonstrated, explained and proved. And -all at once I ran off to the cellar to seek out in the right corner a -bottle of the best. - -My son's first tooth. We spoke of his career during dinner, and at -dessert grand-mamma gave us a song. - -After this tooth came others, and with them tears and pain, but then when -they were all there how proudly he bit into his slice of bread, how -vigorously he attacked his chop in order to eat "like papa." - -"Like papa," do you remember how these two words warm the heart, and how -many transgressions they cause to be forgiven. - -My great happiness,--is it yours too?--was to be present at my darling's -awakening. I knew the time. I would gently draw aside the curtains of -his cradle and watch him as I waited. - -I usually found him stretched diagonally, lost in the chaos of sheets and -blankets, his legs in the air, his arms crossed above his head. Often -his plump little hand still clutched the toy that had helped to send him -off to sleep, and through his parted lips came the regular murmur of his -soft breathing. The warmth of his sleep had given his cheeks the tint of -a well-ripened peach. His skin was warm, and the perspiration of the -night glittered on his forehead in little imperceptible pearls. - -Soon his hand would make a movement; his foot pushed away the blanket, -his whole body stirred, he rubbed an eye, stretched out his arms, and -then his look from under his scarcely raised eyelids would rest on me. - -He would smile at me, murmuring softly, so softly that I would hold my -breath to seize all the shades of his music. - -"Dood mornin', papa." - -"Good morning, my little man; have you slept well?" - -We held out our arms to each other and embraced like old friends. - -Then the talking would begin. He chatted as the lark would sing to the -rising sun. Endless stories. - -He would tell me his dreams, asking after each sentence for "his nice, -warm bread and milk, with plenty of sugar." And when his breakfast came -up, what an outburst of laughter, what joy as he drew himself up to reach -it; then his eye would glitter with a tear in the corner, and the chatter -begin again. - -At other times he would come and surprise me in bed. I would pretend to -be asleep, and he would pull my beard and shout in my ear. I feigned -great alarm and threatened to be avenged. From this arose fights among -the counterpanes, entrenchments behind the pillows. In sign of victory I -would tickle him, and then he shuddered, giving vent to the frank and -involuntary outburst of laughter of happy childhood. He buried his head -between his two shoulders like a tortoise withdrawing into his shell, and -threatened me with his plump rosy foot. The skin of his heel was so -delicate that a young girl's cheek would have been proud of it. How many -kisses I would cover those dear little feet with when I warmed his long -nightdress before the fire. - -I had been forbidden to undress him, because it had been found that I -entangled the knots instead of undoing them. - -All this was charming, but when it was necessary to act rigorously and -check the romping that was going too far, he would slowly drop his -eyelids, while with dilated nostrils and trembling lips he tried to keep -back the big tear glittering beneath his eyelid. - -What courage was not necessary in order to refrain from calming with a -kiss the storm on the point of bursting, from consoling the little -swollen heart, from drying the tear that was overflowing and about to -become a flood. - -A child's expression is then so touching, there is so much grief in a -warm tear slowly falling, in a little contracted face, a little heaving -breast. - -All this is long past. Yet years have gone by without effacing these -loved recollections; and now that my baby is thirty years old and has a -heavy moustache, when he holds out his large hand and says in his bass -voice, "Good morning, father," it still seems to me that an echo repeats -afar off the dear words of old, "Dood mornin', papa." - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -THE LITTLE BOOTS - -In the morning when I left my room, I saw placed in line before the door -his boots and mine. His were little laced-up boots rather out of shape, -and dulled by the rough usage to which he subjects them. The sole of the -left boot was worn thin, and a little hole was threatening at the toe of -the right. The laces, worn and slack, hung to the right and left. -Swellings in the leather marked the places of his toes, and the -accustomed movements of his little foot had left their traces in the -shape of creases, slight or deep. - -Why have I remembered all this? I really do not know, but it seems to me -that I can still see the boots of the dear little one placed there on the -mat beside my own, two grains of sand by two paving stones, a tom tit -beside an elephant. They were his every-day boots, his playfellows, -those with which he ascended sand hills and explored puddles. They were -devoted to him, and shared his existence so closely that something of -himself was met with again in them. I should have recognized them among -a thousand; they had an especial physiognomy about them; it seemed to me -that an invisible tie attached them to him, and I could not look at their -undecided shape, their comic and charming grace, without recalling their -little master, and acknowledging to myself that they resembled him. - -Everything belonging to a baby becomes a bit babyish itself, and assumes -that expression of unstudied and simple grace peculiar to a child. - -Beside these laughing, gay, good-humored little boots, only asking leave -to run about the country, my own seemed monstrous, heavy, coarse, -ridiculous, with their heels. From their heavy and disabused air one -felt that for them life was a grave matter, its journeys long, and the -burden borne quite a serious one. - -The contrast was striking, and the lesson deep. I would softly approach -these little boots in order not to wake the little man who was still -asleep in the adjoining room; I felt them, I turned them over, I looked -at them on all sides, and I found a delightful smile rise to my lips. -Never did the old violet-scented glove that lay for so long in the inmost -recess of my drawer procure me so sweet an emotion. - -Paternal love is no trifle; it has its follies and weaknesses, it is -puerile and sublime, it can neither be analyzed nor explained, it is -simply felt, and I yielded myself to it with delight. - -Let the papa without weakness cast the first stone at me; the mammas will -avenge me. - -Remember that this little laced boot, with a hole in the toe, reminded me -of his plump little foot, and that a thousand recollections were -connected with that dear trifle. - -I recalled him, dear child, as when I cut his toe nails, wriggling about, -pulling at my beard, and laughing in spite of himself, for he was -ticklish. - -I recalled him as when of an evening in front of a good fire, I pulled -off his little socks. What a treat. - -I would say "one, two." And he, clad in his long nightgown, his hands -lost in the sleeves, would wait with glittering eyes, and ready to break -into a fit of laughter for the "three." - -At last after a thousand delays, a thousand little teasings that excited -his impatience and allowed me to snatch five or six kisses, I said -"three." - -The sock flew away. Then there was a wild joy; he would throw himself -back on my arm, waving his bare legs in the air. From his open mouth, in -which two rows of shining little pearls could be distinguished, welled -forth a burst of ringing laughter. - -His mother, who, however, laughed too, would say the next minute, -"Come, baby, come, my little angel, you will get cold . . . . But -leave off. . . . Will you have done, you little demon?" - -She wanted to scold, but she could not be serious at the sight of his -fair-haired head, and flushed, smiling, happy face, thrown back on my -knee. - -She would look at me, and say: - -"He is unbearable. Good gracious! what a child." - -But I understood that this meant: - -"Look how handsome, sturdy and healthy he is, our baby, our little man, -our son." - -And indeed he was adorable; at least I thought so. - -I had the wisdom--I can say it now that my hair is white--not to let one -of those happy moments pass without amply profiting by it, and really I -did well. Pity the fathers who do not know how to be papas as often as -possible, who do not know how to roll on the carpet, play at being a -horse, pretend to be the great wolf, undress their baby, imitate the -barking of the dog, and the roar of the lion, bite whole mouthfuls -without hurting, and hide behind armchairs so as to let themselves be -seen. - -Pity sincerely these unfortunates. It is not only pleasant child's play -that they neglect, but true pleasure, delightful enjoyment, the scraps of -that happiness which is greatly calumniated and accused of not existing -because we expect it to fall from heaven in a solid mass when it lies at -our feet in fine powder. Let us pick up the fragments, and not grumble -too much; every day brings us with its bread its ration of happiness. - -Let us walk slowly and look down on the ground, searching around us and -seeking in the corners; it is there that Providence has its hiding- -places. - -I have always laughed at those people who rush through life at full -speed, with dilated nostrils, uneasy eyes, and glance rivetted on the -horizon. It seems as though the present scorched their feet, and when -you say to them, "Stop a moment, alight, take a glass of this good old -wine, let us chat a little, laugh a little, kiss your child." - -"Impossible," they reply; "I am expected over there. There I shall -converse, there I shall drink delicious wine, there I shall give -expansion to paternal love, there I shall be happy!" - -And when they do get "there," breathless and tired out, and claim the -price of their fatigue, the present, laughing behind its spectacles, -says, "Monsieur, the bank is closed." - -The future promises, it is the present that pays, and one should have a -good understanding with the one that keeps the keys of the safe. - -Why fancy that you are a dupe of Providence? - -Do you think that Providence has the time to serve up to each of you -perfect happiness, already dressed on a golden plate, and to play music -during your repast into the bargain? Yet that is what a great many -people would like. - -We must be reasonable, tuck up our sleeves and look after our cooking -ourselves, and not insist that heaven should put itself out of the way to -skim our soup. - -I used to muse on all this of an evening when my baby was in my arms, and -his moist, regular breathing fanned my hand. I thought of the happy -moments he had already given me, and was grateful to him for them. - -"How easy it is," I said to myself, "to be happy, and what a singular -fancy that is of going as far as China in quest of amusement." - -My wife was of my opinion, and we would sit for hours by the fire talking -of what we felt. - -"You, do you see, dear? love otherwise than I do," she often said to me. -"Papas calculate more. Their love requires a return. They do not really -love their child till the day on which their self-esteem as its father is -flattered. There is something of ownership in it. You can analyze -paternal love, discover its causes, say 'I love my child because he is so -and so, or so and so.' With the mother such analysis is impossible, she -does not love her child because he is handsome or ugly, because he does -or does not resemble her, has or has not her tastes. She loves him -because she can not help it, it is a necessity. Maternal love is an -innate sentiment in woman. Paternal love is, in man, the result of -circumstances. In her love is an instinct, in him a calculation, of -which, it is true, he is unconscious, but, in short, it is the outcome of -several other feelings." - -"That is all very fine; go on," I said. "We have neither heart nor -bowels, we are fearful savages. What you say is monstrous." And I -stirred the logs furiously with the tongs. - -Yet my wife was right, I acknowledged to myself. When a child comes into -the world the affection of the father is not to be compared to that of -the mother. With her it is love already. It seems that she has known -him for a long time, her pretty darling. At his first cry it might be -said that she recognized him. She seems to say, "It is he." She takes -him without the slightest embarrassment, her movements are natural, she -shows no awkwardness, and in her two twining arms the baby finds a place -to fit him, and falls asleep contentedly in the nest created for him. It -would be thought that woman serves a mysterious apprenticeship to -maternity. Man, on the other hand, is greatly troubled by the birth of a -child. The first wail of the little creature stirs him, but in this -emotion there is more astonishment than love. His affection is not yet -born. His heart requires to reflect and to become accustomed to these -fondnesses so new to him. - -There is an apprenticeship to be served to the business of a father. -There is none to that of a mother. - -If the father is clumsy morally in his love for his firstborn, it must be -acknowledged that he is so physically in the manifestation of his -fondness. - -It is only tremblingly, and with contortions and efforts, that he lifts -the slight burden. He is afraid of smashing the youngster, who knows -this, and thence bawls with all the force of his lungs. He expands more -strength, poor man, in lifting up his child than he would in bursting a -door open. If he kisses him, his beard pricks him; if he touches him, -his big fingers cause him some disaster. He has the air of a bear -threading a needle. - -And yet it must be won, the affection of this poor father, who, at the -outset, meets nothing but misadventures; he must be captivated, captured, -made to have a taste for the business, and not be left too long to play -the part of a recruit. - -Nature has provided for it, and the father rises to the rank of corporal -the day the baby lisps his first syllables. - -It is very sweet, the first lisping utterance of a child, and admirably -chosen to move--the "pa-pa" the little creature first murmurs. It is -strange that the first word of a child should express precisely the -deepest and tenderest sentiment of all? - -Is it not touching to see that the little creature finds of himself the -word that is sure to touch him of whom he stands most in need; the word -that means, "I am yours, love me, give me a place in your heart, open -your arms to me; you see I do not know much as yet, I have only just -arrived, but, already, I think of you, I am one of the family, I shall -eat at your table, and bear your name, pa-pa, pa-pa." - -He has discovered at once the most delicate of flatteries, the sweetest -of caresses. He enters on life by a master stroke. - -Ah! the dear little love! "Pa-pa, pa-pa," I still hear his faint, -hesitating voice, I can still see his two coral lips open and close. We -were all in a circle around him, kneeling down to be on a level with him. -They kept saying to him, "Say it again, dear, say it again. Where is -papa?" And he, amused by all these people about him, stretched out his -arms, and turned his eyes toward me. - -I kissed him heartily, and felt that two big tears hindered me from -speaking. - -From that moment I was a papa in earnest. I was christened. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -BABIES AND PAPAS - -When the baby reaches three or four years of age, when his sex shows -itself in his actions, his tastes and his eyes, when he smashes his -wooden horses, cuts open his drums, blows trumpets, breaks the castors -off the furniture, and evinces a decided hostility to crockery; in a -word, when he is a man, it is then that the affection of a father for his -son becomes love. He feels himself invaded by a need of a special -fondness, of which the sweetest recollections of his past life can give -no idea. A deep sentiment envelopes his heart, the countless roots of -which sink into it in all directions. Defects or qualities penetrate and -feed on this sentiment. Thus, we find in paternal love all the -weaknesses and all the greatnesses of humanity. Vanity, abnegation, -pride, and disinterestedness are united together, and man in his entirety -appears in the papa. - -It is on the day which the child becomes a mirror in which you recognize -your features, that the heart is moved and awakens. Existence becomes -duplicated, you are no longer one, but one and a half; you feel your -importance increase, and, in the future of the little creature who -belongs to you, you reconstruct your own past; you resuscitate, and are -born again in him. You say to yourself: "I will spare him such and such -a vexation which I had to suffer, I will clear from his path such and -such a stone over which I stumbled, I will make him happy, and he shall -owe all to me; he shall be, thanks to me, full of talents and -attractions." You give him, in advance, all that you did not get -yourself, and in his future arrange laurels for a little crown for your -own brows. - -Human weakness, no doubt; but what matter, provided the sentiment that -gives birth to this weakness is the strongest and purest of all? What -matter if a limpid stream springs up between two paving stones? Are we -to be blamed for being generous out of egotism, and for devoting -ourselves to others for reasons of personal enjoyment? - -Thus, in the father, vanity is the leading string. Say to any father: -"Good heavens! how like you he is!" The poor man may hesitate at saying -yes, but I defy him not to smile. He will say, "Perhaps . . . . Do -you think so? . . . Well, perhaps so, side face." - -And do not you be mistaken; if he does so, it is that you may reply in -astonishment: "Why, the child is your very image." - -He is pleased, and that is easily explained; for is not this likeness a -visible tie between him and his work? Is it not his signature, his -trade-mark, his title-deed, and, as it were, the sanction of his rights? - -To this physical resemblance there soon succeeds a moral likeness, -charming in quite another way. You are moved to tears when you recognize -the first efforts of this little intelligence to grasp your ideas. -Without check or examination it accepts and feeds on them. By degrees -the child shares your tastes, your habits, your ways. He assumes a deep -voice to be like papa, asks for your braces, sighs before your boots, -and sits down with admiration on your hat. He protects his mamma when he -goes out with her, and scolds the dog, although he is very much afraid of -him; all to be like papa. Have you caught him at meals with his large -observant eyes fixed on you, studying your face with open mouth and spoon -in hand, and imitating his model with an expression of astonishment and -respect. Listen to his long gossips, wandering as his little brain; does -he not say: - -"When I am big like papa I shall have a moustache and a stick like him, -and I shall not be afraid in the dark, because it is silly to be afraid -in the dark when you are big, and I shall say 'damn it,' for I shall then -be grown up." - -"Baby, what did you say, sir?" - -"I said just as papa does." - -What would you? He is a faithful mirror. You are for him an ideal, a -model, the type of all that is great and strong, handsome and -intelligent. - -Often he makes mistakes, the little dear, but his error is all the more -delicious in its sincerity, and you feel all the more unworthy of such -frank admiration. You console yourself for your own imperfections in -reflecting that he is not conscious of them. - -The defects of children are almost always harrowed from their father; -they are the consequences of a too literal copy. Provide, then, against -them. Yes, no doubt, but I ask you what strength of mind is not needed -by a poor man to undeceive his baby, to destroy, with a word, his -innocent confidence, by saying to him: "My child, I am not perfect, -and I have faults to be avoided?" - -This species of devotion on the part of the baby for his father reminds -me of the charming remark of one of my little friends. Crossing the -road, the little fellow caught sight of a policeman. He examined him -with respect, and then turning to me, after a moment's reflection, said, -with an air of conviction: "Papa is stronger than all the policemen, -isn't he?" - -If I had answered "No," our intimacy would have been broken off short. - -Was it not charming? One can truly say, "Like baby, like papa." Our -life is the threshold of his. It is with our eyes that he has first -seen. - -Profit, young fathers, by the first moments of candor on the part of your -dear baby, seek to enter his heart when this little heart opens, and -establish yourself in it so thoroughly, that at the moment when the child -is able to judge you, he will love you too well to be severe or to cease -loving. Win his, affection, it is worth the trouble. - -To be loved all your life by a being you love--that is the problem to be -solved, and toward the solution of which all your efforts should be -directed. To make yourself loved, is to store up treasures of happiness -for the winter. Each year will take away a scrap of your life, contract -the circle of interests and pleasures in which you live; your mind by -degrees will lose its vigor, and ask for rest, and as you live less and -less by the mind, you will live more and more by the heart. The -affection of others which was only a pleasant whet will become a -necessary food, and whatever you may have been, statesmen or artists, -soldiers or bankers, when your heads are white, you will no longer be -anything but fathers. - -But filial love is not born all at once, nor is it necessary it should -be. The voice of nature is a voice rather poetical than truthful. The -affection of children is earned and deserved; it is a consequence, not a -cause, and gratitude is its commencement. At any cost, therefore, your -baby must be made grateful. Do not reckon that he will be grateful to -you for your solicitude, your dreams for his future, the cost of his -nursing, and the splendid dowry that you are amassing for him; such -gratitude would require from his little brain too complicated a -calculation, besides social ideas as yet unknown to him. He will not be -thankful to you for the extreme fondness you have for him; do not be -astonished at it, and do not cry out at his ingratitude. You must first -make him understand your affection; he must appreciate and judge it -before responding to it; he must know his notes before he can play tunes. - -The little man's gratitude will at first be nothing but a simple, -egotistical and natural calculation. If you have made him laugh, if you -have amused him, he will want you to begin again, he will hold out his -little arms to you, crying: "Do it again." And the recollection of the -pleasure you have given him becoming impressed upon his mind, he will -soon say to himself: "No one amuses me so well as papa; it is he who -tosses me into the air, plays at hide-and-seek with me and tells me -tales." So, by degrees, gratitude will be born in him, as thanks spring -to the lips of him who is made happy. - -Therefore, learn the art of amusing your child, imitate the crowing of -the cock, and gambol on the carpet, answer his thousand impossible -questions, which are the echo of his endless dreams, and let yourself be -pulled by the beard to imitate a horse. All this is kindness, but also -cleverness, and good King Henry IV did not belie his skilful policy by -walking on all fours on his carpet with his children on his back. - -In this way, no doubt, your paternal authority will lose something of its -austere prestige, but will gain the deep and lasting influence that -affection gives. Your baby will fear you less but will love you more. -Where is the harm. - -Do not be afraid of anything; become his comrade, in order to have the -right of remaining his friend. Hide your paternal superiority as the -commissary of police does his sash. Ask with kindness for that which you -might rightly insist upon having, and await everything from his heart if -you have known how to touch it. Carefully avoid such ugly words as -discipline, passive obedience and command; let his submission be gentle -to him, and his obedience resemble kindness. Renounce the stupid -pleasure of imposing your fancies upon him, and of giving orders to prove -your infallibility. - -Children have a keenness of judgment, and a delicacy of impression which -would not be imagined, unless one has studied them. Justice and equity -are easily born in their minds, for they possess, above all things, -positive logic. Profit by all this. There are unjust and harsh words -which remain graven on a child's heart, and which he remembers all his -life. Reflect that, in your baby, there is a man whose affection will -cheer your old age; therefore respect him so that he may respect you; and -be sure that there is not a single seed sown in this little heart which -will not sooner or later bear fruit. - -But there are, you will say, unmanageable children, rebels from the -cradle. Are you sure that the first word they heard in their lives has -not been the cause of their evil propensities? Where there has been -rebellion, there has been clumsy pressure; for I will not believe in -natural vice. Among evil instincts there is always a good one, of which -an arm can be made to combat the others. This requires, I know, extreme -kindness, perfect tact, and unlimited confidence, but the reward is -sweet. I think, therefore, in conclusion, that a father's first kiss, -his first look, his first caresses, have an immense influence on a -child's life. To love is a great deal. To know how to love is -everything. - -Even were one not a father, it is impossible to pass by the dear little -ones without feeling touched, and without loving them. Muddy and ragged, -or carefully decked out; running in the roadway and rolling in the dust, -or playing at skipping rope in the gardens of the Tuileries; dabbling -among the ducklings, or building hills of sand beside well-dressed -mammas--babies are charming. In both classes there is the same grace, -the same unembarrassed movements, the same comical seriousness, the same -carelessness as to the effect created, in short, the same charm; the -charm that is called childhood, which one can not understand without -loving--which one finds just the same throughout nature, from the opening -flower and the dawning day to the child entering upon life. - -A baby is not an imperfect being, an unfinished sketch--he is a man. -Watch him closely, follow every one of his movements; they will reveal to -you a logical sequence of ideas, a marvellous power of imagination, such -as will not again be found at any period of life. There is more real -poetry in the brain of these dear loves than in twenty epics. They are -surprised and unskilled, no doubt; but nothing equals the vigor of these -minds, unexperienced, fresh, simple, sensible of the slightest -impressions, which make their way through the midst of the unknown. - -What immense labor is gone through by them in a few months! To notice -noises, classify them, understand that some of these sounds are words, -and that these words are thoughts; to find out of themselves alone the -meaning of everything, and distinguish the true from the false, the real -from the imaginary; to correct, by observation, the errors of their too -ardent imagination; to unravel a chaos, and during this gigantic task to -render the tongue supple and strengthen the staggering little legs, in -short, to become a man. If ever there was a curious and touching sight -it is that of this little creature setting out upon the conquest of the -world. As yet he knows neither doubt nor fear, and opens his heart -fully. There is something of Don Quixote about a baby. He is as comic -as the Knight, but he has also a sublime side. - -Do not laugh too much at the hesitations, the countless gropings, the -preposterous follies of this virgin mind, which a butterfly lifts to the -clouds, to which grains of sand are mountains, which understands the -twittering of birds, ascribes thoughts to flowers, and souls to dolls, -which believes in far-off realms, where the trees are sugar, the fields -chocolate, and the rivers syrup, for which Punch and Mother Hubbard are -real and powerful individuals, a mind which peoples silence and vivifies -night. Do not laugh at his love; his life is a dream, and his mistakes -poetry. - -This touching poetry which you find in the infancy of man you also find -in the infancy of nations. It is the same. In both cases there is the -same necessity of idealization, the same tendency to personify the -unknown. And it may be said that between Punch and Jupiter, Mother -Hubbard and Venus, there is only a hair's breadth. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -HIS FIRST BREECHES - -The great desire in a child is to become a man. But the first symptom of -virility, the first serious step taken in life, is marked by the -assumption of breeches. - -This first breeching is an event that papa desires and mamma dreads. -It seems to the mother that it is the beginning of her being forsaken. -She looks with tearful eyes at the petticoat laid aside for ever, and -murmurs to herself, "Infancy is over then? My part will soon become a -small one. He will have fresh tastes, new wishes; he is no longer only -myself, his personality is asserting itself; he is some ones boy." - -The father, on the contrary, is delighted. He laughs in his moustache to -see the little arching calves peeping out beneath the trousers; he feels -the little body, the outline of which can be clearly made out under the -new garment, and says to himself; "How well he is put together, the -rascal. He will have broad shoulders and strong loins like myself. How -firmly his little feet tread the ground." Papa would like to see him in -jackboots; for a trifle he would buy him spurs. He begins to see himself -in this little one sprung from him; he looks at him in a fresh light, -and, for the first time, he finds a great charm in calling him "my boy." - -As to the baby, he is intoxicated, proud, triumphant, although somewhat -embarrassed as to his arms and legs, and, be it said, without any wish to -offend him, greatly resembling those little poodles we see freshly shaven -on the approach of summer. What greatly disturbed the poor little fellow -is past. How many men of position are there who do not experience -similar inconvenience. He knows very well that breeches, like nobility, -render certain things incumbent on their possessor, that he must now -assume new ways, new gestures, a new tone of voice; he begins to scan out -of the corner of his eye the movements of his papa, who is by no means -ill pleased at this: he clumsily essays a masculine gesture or two; and -this struggle between his past and his present gives him for some time -the most comical air in the world. His petticoats haunt him, and really -he is angry that it is so. - -Dear first pair of breeches! I love you, because you are a faithful -friend, and I encounter at every step in life you and your train of sweet -sensations. Are you not the living image of the latest illusion caressed -by our vanity? You, young officer, who still measure your moustaches in -the glass, and who have just assumed for the first time the epaulette and -the gold belt, how did you feel when you went downstairs and heard the -scabbard of your sabre go clink-clank on the steps, when with your cap on -one side and your arm akimbo you found yourself in the street, and, an -irresistible impulse urging you on, you gazed at your figure reflected in -the chemist's bottles? Will you dare to say that you did not halt before -those bottles? First pair of breeches, lieutenant. - -You will find them again, these breeches, when you are promoted to be -Captain and are decorated. And later on, when, an old veteran with a -gray moustache, you take a fair companion to rejuvenate you, you will -again put them on; but this time the dear creature will help you to wear -them. - -And the day when you will no longer have anything more to do with them, -alas! that day you will be very low, for one's whole life is wrapped up -in this precious garment. Existence is nothing more than putting on our -first pair of breeches, taking them off, putting them on again, and dying -with eyes fixed on them. - -Is it the truth that most of our joys have no more serious origin than -those of children? Are we then so simple? Ah! yes, my dear sir, we are -simple to this degree, that we do not think we are. We never quite get -rid of our swaddling clothes; do you see, there is always a little bit -sticking out? There is a baby in every one of us, or, rather, we are -only babies grown big. - -See the young barrister walking up and down the lobby of the courts. -He is freshly shaven: in the folds of his new gown he hides a pile of -documents, and on his head, in which a world of thought is stirring, is a -fine advocate's coif, which he bought yesterday, and which this morning -he coquettishly crushed in with a blow from his fist before putting it -on. This young fellow is happy; amid the general din he can distinguish -the echo of his own footsteps, and the ring of his bootheels sounds to -him like the great bell of Notre Dame. In a few minutes he will find an -excuse for descending the great staircase, and crossing the courtyard in -costume. You may be sure that he will not disrobe except to go to -dinner. What joy in these five yards of black stuff; what happiness in -this ugly bit of cloth stretched over stiff cardboard! - -First pair of breeches--I think I recognize you. - -And you, Madame, with what happiness do you renew each season the -enjoyment caused by new clothes? Do not say, I beg of you, that such -enjoyments are secondary ones, for their influence is positive upon your -nature and your character. Why, I ask you, did you find so much -captivating logic, so much persuasive eloquence, in the sermon of Father -Paul? Why did you weep on quitting the church, and embrace your husband -as soon as you got home? You know better than I do, Madame, that it was -because on that day you had put on for the first time that little yellow -bonnet, which is a gem, I acknowledge, and which makes you look twice as -pretty. These impressions can scarcely be explained, but they are -invincible. There may be a trifle of childishness in it all, you will -admit, but it is a childishness that can not be got rid of. - -As a proof of it, the other day, going to St. Thomas's to hear Father -Nicholas, who is one of our shining lights, you experienced totally -different sentiments; a general feeling of discontent and doubt and -nervous irritability at every sentence of the preacher. Your soul did -not soar heavenward with the same unreserved confidence; you left St. -Thomas's with your head hot and your feet cold; and you so far forgot -yourself as to say, as you got into your carriage, that Father Nicholas -was a Gallican devoid of eloquence. Your coachman heard it. And, -finally, on reaching home you thought your drawing-room too small and -your husband growing too fat. Why, I again ask you, this string of -vexatious impressions? If you remember rightly, dear Madame, you wore -for the first time the day before yesterday that horrible little violet -bonnet, which is such a disgusting failure. First pair of breeches, dear -Madame. - -Would you like a final example? Observe your husband. Yesterday he went -out in a bad temper--he had breakfasted badly--and lo! in the evening, -at a quarter to seven, he came home from the Chamber joyful and well- -pleased, a smile on his lips, and good-humor in his eye. He kissed you -on the forehead with a certain unconstraint, threw a number of pamphlets -and papers with an easy gesture on the sidetable, sat down to table, -found the soup delicious, and ate joyously. "What is the matter with my -husband?" you asked yourself . . . . I will explain. Your husband -spoke yesterday for the first time in the building, you know. He said-- -the sitting was a noisy one, the Left were threshing out some infernal -questions--he said, during the height of the uproar, and rapping with his -paper-knife on his desk: "But we can not hear!" And as these words were -received on all sides with universal approbation and cries of "Hear, -hear!" he gave his thoughts a more parliamentary expression by adding: -"The voice of the honorable gentleman who is speaking does not reach us." -It was not much certainly, and the amendment may have been carried all -the same, but after all it was a step; a triumph, to tell the truth, -since your husband has from day to day put off the delivery of his maiden -speech. Behold a happy deputy, a deputy who has just--put on his first -pair of breeches. - -What matter whether the reason be a serious or a futile one, if your -blood flows faster, if you feel happier, if you are proud of yourself? -To win a great victory or put on a new bonnet, what matters it if this -new bonnet gives you the same joy as a laurel crown? - -Therefore do not laugh too much at baby if his first pair of breeches -intoxicates him, if, when he wears them, he thinks his shadow longer and -the trees less high. He is beginning his career as a man, dear child, -nothing more. - -How many things have not people been proud of since the beginning of the -world? They were proud of their noses under Francis the First, of their -perukes under Louis XIV, and later on of their appetites and stoutness. -A man is proud of his wife, his idleness, his wit, his stupidity, the -beard on his chin, the cravat round his neck, the hump on his back. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - -COUNTRY CHILDREN - -I love the baby that runs about under the trees of the Tuileries; I love -the pretty little fair-haired girls with nice white stockings and -unmanageable crinolines. I like to watch the tiny damsels decked out -like reliquaries, and already affecting coquettish and lackadaisical -ways. It seems to me that in each of them I can see thousands of -charming faults already peeping forth. But all these miniature men and -women, exchanging postage stamps and chattering of dress, have something -of the effect of adorable monstrosities on me. - -I like them as I like a bunch of grapes in February, or a dish of green -peas in December. - -In the babies' kingdom, my friend, my favorite is the country baby, -running about in the dust on the highway barefoot and ragged, and -searching for black birds' and chaffinches' nests on the outskirts of the -woods. I love his great black wondering eye, which watches you fixedly -from between two locks of un combed hair, his firm flesh bronzed by the -sun, his swarthy forehead, hidden by his hair, his smudged face and his -picturesque breeches kept from falling off by the paternal braces -fastened to a metal button, the gift of a gendarme. - -Ah! what fine breeches; not very long in the legs, but, then, what room -everywhere else! He could hide away entirely in this immense space which -allows a shirt-tail, escaping through a slit, to wave like a flag. These -breeches preserve a remembrance of all the garments of the family; here -is a piece of maternal petticoat, here a fragment of yellow waistcoat, -here a scrap of blue handkerchief; the whole sewn with a thread that -presents the twofold advantage of being seen from a distance, and of not -breaking. - -But under these patched clothes you can make out a sturdy little figure; -and, besides, what matters the clothes? Country babies are not -coquettish; and when the coach comes down the hill with jingling bells -and they rush after it, stumbling over their neighbors, tumbling with -them in the dust, and rolling into the ditches, what would all these dear -little gamins do in silk stockings? - -I love them thus because they are wild, taking alarm, and fleeing away at -your approach like the young rabbits you surprise in the morning playing -among the wild thyme. You must have recourse to a thousand subterfuges -in order to triumph over their alarm and gain their confidence. But if -at length, thanks to your prudence, you find yourself in their company, -at the outset play ceases, shouts and noise die away; the little group -remain motionless, scratching their heads, and all their uneasy eyes look -fixedly at you. This is the difficult moment. - -A sharp word, a stern gesture, may cause an eternal misunderstanding with -them, just as a kind remark, a smile, a caress will soon accomplish their -conquest. And this conquest is worth the trouble, believe me. - -One of my chief methods of winning them was as follows: I used to take my -watch out of my pocket and look at it attentively. Then I would see my -little people stretch their necks, open their eyes, and come a step -nearer; and it would often happen that the chickens, ducklings, and -geese, which were loitering close by in the grass, imitated their -comrades and drew near too. I then would put my watch to my ear and -smile like a man having a secret whispered to him. In presence of this -prodigy my youngsters could no longer restrain themselves, and would -exchange among themselves those keen, simple, timid, mocking looks, -which must have been seen to be understood. They advanced this time in -earnest, and if I offered to let the boldest listen, by holding out my -watch to him, he would draw back alarmed, although smiling, while the -band would break into an outburst of joy; the ducklings flapping their -wings, the white geese cackling, and the chickens going chk, chk. The -game was won. - -How many times have I not played this little farce, seated under a willow -on the banks of my little stream, which ripples over the white stones, -while the reeds bend tremblingly. The children would crowd round me to -hear the watch, and soon questions broke forth in chorus to an -accompaniment of laughter. They inspected my gaiters, rummaged in my -pockets and leant against my knees. The ducklings glided under my feet, -and the big geese tickled my back. - -How enjoyable it is not to alarm creatures that tremble at everything. -I would not move for fear of interrupting their joy, and was like a child -who is building a house of cards and who has got to the third story. But -I marked all these happy little faces standing out against the blue sky; -I watched the rays of the sun stealing into the tangles of their fair -hair, or spreading in a patch of gold on their little brown necks; I -followed their gestures full of awkwardness and grace; I sat down on the -grass to be the nearer to them; and if an unfortunate chicken came to -grief, between two daisies, I quickly stretched out my arm and replaced -it on its legs. - -I assure you that they were all grateful. If one loves these little -people at all, there is one thing that strikes you when you watch them -closely. Ducklings dabbling along the edge of the water or turning head -over heels in their feeding trough, young shoots thrusting forth their -tender little leaves above ground, little chickens running along before -their mother hen, or little men staggering among the grass-all these -little creatures resemble one another. They are the babies of the great -mother Nature; they have common laws, a common physiognomy; they have -something inexplicable about them which is at once comic and graceful, -awkward and tender, and which makes them loved at once; they are -relations, friends, comrades, under the same flag. This pink and white -flag, let us salute it as it passes, old graybeards that we are. It is -blessed, and is called childhood. - -All babies are round, yielding, weak, timid, and soft to the touch as a -handful of wadding. Protected by cushions of good rosy flesh or by a -coating of soft down, they go rolling, staggering, dragging along their -little unaccustomed feet, shaking in the air their plump hands or -featherless wing. See them stretched haphazard in the sun without -distinction of species, swelling themselves with milk or meal, and dare -to say that they are not alike. Who knows whether all these children of -nature have not a common point of departure, if they are not brothers of -the same origin? - -Since men with green spectacles have existed, they have amused themselves -with ticketing the creatures of this world. These latter are arranged, -divided into categories and classified, as though by a careful apothecary -who wants everything about him in order. It is no slight matter to stow -away each one in the drawer that suits him, and I have heard that certain -subjects still remain on the counter owing to their belonging to two -show-cases at once. - -And what proves to me, indeed, that these cases exist? What is there to -assure me that the whole world is not one family, the members of which -only differ by trifles which we are pleased to regard as everything? - -Have you fully established the fact of these drawers and compartments? -Have you seen the bars of these imaginary cages in which you imprison -kingdoms and species? Are there not infinite varieties which escape your -analysis, and are, as it were, the unknown links uniting all the -particles of the animated world? Why say, "For these eternity, for those -annihilation?" - -Why say, "This is the slave, that is the sovereign?" Strange boldness -for men who are ignorant of almost everything! - -Man, animal or plant, the creature vibrates, suffers or enjoys--exists -and encloses in itself the trace of the same mystery. What assures me -that this mystery, which is everywhere the same, is not the sign of a -similar relationship, is not the sign of a great law of which we are -ignorant? - -I am dreaming, you will say. And what does science do herself when she -reaches that supreme point at which magnifying glasses become obscure and -compasses powerless? It dreams, too; it supposes. Let us, too, suppose -that the tree is a man, rough skinned dreamy and silent, who loves, too, -after his fashion and vibrates to his very roots when some evening a warm -breeze, laden with the scents of the plain, blows through his green locks -and overwhelms him with kisses. No, I do not accept the hypothesis of a -world made for us. Childish pride, which would be ridiculous did not its -very simplicity lend it something poetic, alone inspires it. Man is but -one of the links of an immense chain, of the two ends of which we are -ignorant. [See Mark Twain's essay: 'What is Man.' D.W.] - -Is it not consoling to fancy that we are not an isolated power to which -the remainder of the world serves as a pedestal, that one is not a -licensed destroyer, a poor, fragile tyrant, whom arbitrary decrees -protect, but a necessary note of an infinite harmony? To fancy that the -law of life is the same in the immensity of space and irradiates worlds -as it irradiates cities and as it irradiates ant-hills. To fancy that -each vibration in ourselves is the echo of another vibration. To fancy a -sole principle, a primordial axiom, to think the universe envelops us as -a mother clasps her child in her two arms; and say to one's self, "I -belong to it and it to me; it would cease to be without me. I should not -exist without it." To see, in short, only the divine unity of laws, -which could not be nonexistent, where others have only seen a ruling -fancy or an individual caprice. - -It is a dream. Perhaps so, but I have often dreamed it when watching the -village children rolling on the fresh grass among the ducklings. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI - -AUTUMN - -Do you know the autumn, dear reader, autumn away in the country with its -squalls, its long gusts, its yellow leaves whirling in the distance, its -sodden paths, its fine sunsets, pale as an invalid's smile, its pools of -water in the roadway; do you know all these? If you have seen all these -they are certainly not indifferent to you. One either detests or else -loves them. - -I am of the number of those who love them, and I would give two summers -for a single autumn. I adore the big blazing fires; I like to take -refuge in the chimney corner with my dog between my wet gaiters. I like -to watch the tall flames licking the old ironwork and lighting up the -black depths. You hear the wind whistling in the stable, the great door -creak, the dog pull at his chain and howl, and, despite the noise of the -forest trees which are groaning and bending close by, you can make out -the lugubrious cawings of a flock of rooks struggling against the storm. -The rain beats against the little panes; and, stretching your legs toward -the fire, you think of those without. You think of the sailors, of the -old doctor driving his little cabriolet, the hood of which sways to and -fro as the wheels sink into the ruts, and Cocotte neighs in the teeth of -the wind. You think of the two gendarmes, with the rain streaming from -their cocked hats; you see them, chilled and soaked, making their way -along the path among the vineyards, bent almost double in the saddle, -their horses almost covered with their long blue cloaks. You think of -the belated sportsman hastening across the heath, pursued by the wind -like a criminal by justice, and whistling to his dog, poor beast, who is -splashing through the marshland. Unfortunate doctor, unfortunate -gendarmes, unfortunate sportsman! - -And all at once the door opens and Baby rushes in exclaiming: "Papa, -dinner is ready." Poor doctor! poor gendarmes! - -"What is there for dinner?" - -The cloth was as white as snow in December, the plate glittered in the -lamplight, the steam from the soup rose up under the lamp-shade, veiling -the flame and spreading an appetizing smell of cabbage. Poor doctor! -poor gendarmes! - -The doors were well closed, the curtains carefully drawn. Baby hoisted -himself on to his tall chair and stretched out his neck for his napkin to -be tied round it, exclaiming at the same time with his hands in the air: -"Nice cabbage soup." And, smiling to myself, I said: "The youngster has -all my tastes." - -Mamma soon came, and cheerfully pulling off her tight gloves: "There, -sir, I think, is something that you are very fond of," she said to me. - -It was a pheasant day, and instinctively I turned round a little to catch -a glimpse on the sideboard of a dusty bottle of my old Chambertin. -Pheasant and Chambertin! Providence created them for one another and my -wife has never separated them. - -"Ah! my children, how comfortable you are here," said I, and every one -burst out laughing. Poor gendarmes! poor doctor! - -Yes, yes, I am very fond of the autumn, and my darling boy liked it as -well as I did, not only on account of the pleasure there is in gathering -round a fine large fire, but also on account of the squalls themselves, -the wind and the dead leaves. There is a charm in braving them. How -many times we have both gone out for a walk through the country despite -cold and threatening clouds. We were wrapped up and shod with thick -boots; I took his hand and we started off at haphazard. He was five -years old then and trotted along like a little man. Heavens! it is -five-and-twenty years ago. We went up the narrow lane strewn with damp -black leaves; the tall gray poplars stripped of their foliage allowed a -view of the horizon, and we could see in the distance, under a violet sky -streaked with cold and yellowish bands, the low thatched roofs and the -red chimneys from which issued little bluish clouds blown away by the -wind. Baby jumped for joy, holding with his hand his hat which -threatened to fly off, and looking at me with eyes glittering through -tears brought into them by the breeze. His cheeks were red with cold, -and quite at the tip of his nose hung ready to drop a small transparent -pearl. But he was happy, and we skirted the wet meadows overflowed by -the swollen river. No more reeds, no more water lilies, no more flowers -on the banks. Some cows, up to mid-leg in damp herbage, were grazing -quietly. - -At the bottom of a ditch, near a big willow trunk, two little girls were -huddled together under a big cloak wrapped about them. They were -watching their cows, their half bare feet in split wooden shoes and their -two little chilled faces under the large hood. From time to time large -puddles of water in which the pale sky was reflected barred the way, and -we remained for a moment beside these miniature lakes, rippling beneath -the north wind, to see the leaves float on them. They were the last. -We watched them detach themselves from the tops of the tall trees, whirl -through the air and settle in the puddles. I took my little boy in my -arms and we went through them as we could. At the boundaries of the -brown and stubble fields was an overturned plough or an abandoned harrow. -The stripped vines were level with the ground, and their damp and knotty -stakes were gathered in large piles. - -I remember that one day in one of these autumnal walks, as we gained the -top of the hill by a broken road which skirts the heath and leads to the -old bridge, the wind suddenly began to blow furiously. My darling, -overwhelmed by it, caught hold of my leg and sheltered himself in the -skirt of my coat. My dog, for his part, stiffening his four legs, with -his tail between the hind ones and his ears waving in the wind, looked up -at me too. I turned, the horizon was as gloomy as the interior of a -church. Huge black clouds were sweeping toward us, and the trees were -bending and groaning on every side under the torrents of rain driven -before the squall. I only had time to catch up my little man, who was -crying with fright, and to run and squeeze myself against a hedge which -was somewhat protected by the old willows. I opened my umbrella, -crouched down behind it, and, unbuttoning my big coat, stuffed Baby -inside. He clung closely to me. My dog placed himself between my legs, -and Baby, thus sheltered by his two friends, began to smile from the -depths of his hiding-place. I looked at him and said: - -"Well, little man, are you all right?" - -"Yes, dear papa." - -I felt his two arms clasp round my waist--I was much thinner than I am -now--and I saw that he was grateful to me for acting as a roof to him. -Through the opening he stretched out his little lips and I bent mine -down. - -"Is it still raining outside, papa?" - -"It will soon be over." - -"Already, I am so comfortable inside you." - -How all this stays in your heart. It is perhaps silly to relate these -little joys, but how sweet it is to recall them. - -We reached home as muddy as two water-dogs and we were well scolded. -But when evening had come and Baby was in bed and I went to kiss him and -tickle him a little, as was our custom, he put his two little arms round -my neck and whispered: "When it rains we will go again, eh?" - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII - -HE WOULD HAVE BEEN FORTY NOW - -When you have seen your child born, have watched his first steps in life, -have noted him smile and weep, have heard him call you papa as he -stretches out his little arms to you, you think that you have become -acquainted with all the joys of paternity, and, as though satiated with -these daily joys that are under your hand, you already begin to picture -those of the morrow. You rush ahead, and explore the future; you are -impatient, and gulp down present happiness in long draughts, instead of -tasting it drop by drop. But Baby's illness suffices to restore you to -reason. - -To realize the strength of the ties that bind you to him, it is necessary -to have feared to see them broken; to know that a river is deep, you must -have been on the point of drowning in it. - -Recall the morning when, on drawing aside the curtain of his bed, you saw -on the pillow his little face, pale and thin. His sunken eyes, -surrounded by a bluish circle, were half closed. You met his glance, -which seemed to come through a veil; he saw you, without smiling at you. -You said, "Good morning," and he did not answer. His face only expressed -dejection and weakness, it was no longer that of your child. He gave a -kind of sigh, and his heavy eyelids drooped. You took his hands, -elongated, transparent, and with colorless nails; they were warm and -moist. You kissed them, those poor little hands, but there was no -responsive thrill to the contact of your lips. Then you turned round, -and saw your wife weeping behind you. It was at that moment when you -felt yourself shudder from head to foot, and that the idea of a possible -woe seized on you, never more to leave you. Every moment you kept going -back to the bed and raising the curtains again, hoping perhaps that you -had not seen aright, or that a miracle had taken place; but you withdrew -quickly, with a lump in your throat. And yet you strove to smile, to -make him smile himself; you sought to arouse in him the wish for -something, but in vain; he remained motionless, exhausted, not even -turning round, indifferent to all you said, to everything, even yourself. - -And what is all that is needed to strike down this little creature, to -reduce him to this pitch? Only a few hours. What, is that all that is -needed to put an end to him? Five minutes. Perhaps. - -You know that life hangs on a thread in this frail body, so little fitted -to suffer. You feel that life is only a breath, and say to yourself: -"Suppose this one is his last." A little while back he was complaining. -Already he does so no longer. It seems as though someone is clasping -him, bearing him away, tearing him from your arms. Then you draw near -him, and clasp him to you almost involuntarily, as though to give him -back some of your own life. His bed is damp with fever sweats, his lips -are losing their color. The nostrils of his little nose, grown sharp and -dry, rise and fall. His mouth remains wide open. It is that little rosy -mouth which used to laugh so joyfully, those are the two lips that used -to press themselves to yours, and . . . all the joys, the bursts of -laughter, the follies, the endless chatter, all the bygone happiness, -flock to your recollection at the sound of that gasping, breathing, while -big hot tears fall slowly from your eyes. Poor wee man. Your hand seeks -his little legs, and you dare not touch his chest, which you have kissed -so often, for fear of encountering that ghastly leanness which you -foresee, but the contact of which would make you break out in sobs. -And then, at a certain moment, while the sunlight was flooding the room, -you heard a deeper moan, resembling a cry. You darted forward; his face -was contracted, and he looked toward you with eyes that no longer saw. -And then all was calm, silent and motionless, while his hollow cheeks -became yellow and transparent as the amber of his necklaces. - -The recollection of that moment lasts for a lifetime in the hearts of -those who have loved; and even in old age, when time has softened your -grief, when other joys and other sorrows have filled your days, his dying -bed still appears to you when sitting of an evening beside the fire. You -see amid the sparkling flames the room of the lost child, the table with -the drinks, the bottles, the arsenal of illness, the little garments, -carefully folded, that waited for him so long, his toys abandoned in a -corner. You even see the marks of his little fingers on the wall paper, -and the zigzags he made with his pencil on the door; you see the corner -scribbled over with lines and dates, in which he was measured every -month, you see him playing, running, rushing up in a perspiration to -throw himself into your arms, and, at the same time, you also see him -fixing his glazing eyes on you, or motionless and cold under a white -sheet, wet with holy water. - -Does not this recollection recur to you sometimes, Grandma, and do not -you still shed a big tear as you say to yourself: "He would have been -forty now?" Do we not know, dear old lady, whose heart still bleeds, -that at the bottom of your wardrobe, behind your jewels, beside packets -of yellow letters, the handwriting of which we will not guess at, there -is a little museum of sacred relics--the last shoes in which he played -about on the gravel the day he complained of being cold, the remains of -some broken toys, a dried sprig of box, a little cap, his last, in a -triple wrapper, and a thousand trifles that are a world to you, poor -woman, that are the fragments of your broken heart? - -The ties that unite children to parents are unloosed. Those which unite -parents to children are broken. In one case, it is the past that is -wiped out; in the other, the future that is rent away. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII - -CONVALESCENCE - -But, my patient reader, forget what have just said. Baby does not want -to leave you, he does not want to die, poor little thing, and if you want -a proof of it, watch him very closely; there, he smiles. - -A very faint smile like those rays of sunlight that steal between two -clouds at the close of a wet winter. You rather guess at than see this -smile, but it is enough to warm your heart. The cloud begins to -disperse, he sees you, he hears you, he knows that papa is there, your -child is restored to you. His glance is already clearer. Call him -softly. He wants to turn, but he can not yet, and for his sole answer -his little hand, which is beginning to come to life again, moves and -crumples the sheet. Just wait a little, poor impatient father, and -tomorrow, on his awakening, he will say "Papa." You will see what good -it will do you, this "Papa," faint as a mere breath, this first scarcely -intelligible sign of a return to life. It will seem to you that your -child has been born again a second time. - -He will still suffer, he will have further crises, the storm does not -become a calm all at once, but he will be able now to rest his head on -your shoulder, nestle in your arms among the blankets; he will be able to -complain, to ask help and relief of you with eye and voice; you will, in -short, be reunited, and you will be conscious that he suffers less by -suffering on your knees. You will hold his hand in yours, and if you -seek to go away he will look at you and grasp your finger. How many -things are expressed in this grasp. Dear sir, have you experienced it? - -"Papa, do stay with me, you help to make me better; when I am alone I am -afraid of the pain. Hold me tightly to you, and I shall not suffer so -much." - -The more your protection is necessary to another the more you enjoy -granting it. What is it then when this other is a second self, dearer -than the first. With convalescence comes another childhood, so to speak. -Fresh astonishments, fresh joys, fresh desires come one by one as health -is restored. But what is most touching and delightful, is that delicate -coaxing by the child who still suffers and clings to you, that -abandonment of himself to you, that extreme weakness that gives him -wholly over to you. At no period of his life has he so enjoyed your -presence, has he taken refuge so willingly in your dressing-gown, has he -listened more attentively to your stories and smiled more intelligently -at your merriment. Is it true, as it seems to you, that he has never -been more charming? Or is it simply that threatened danger has caused -you to set a higher value on his caresses, and that you count over your -treasures with all the more delight because you have been all but ruined? - -But the little man is up again. Beat drums; sound trumpets; come out of -your hiding-places, broken horses; stream in, bright sun; a song from you -little birds. The little king comes to life again--long live the king! -And you, your majesty, come and kiss your father. - -What is singular is that this fearful crisis you have gone through -becomes in some way sweet to you; you incessantly recur to it, you speak -of it, you speak of it and cherish it in your mind; and, like the -companions of AEneas, you seek by the recollection of past dangers to -increase the present joy. - -"Do you remember," you say, "the day when he was so ill? Do you remember -his dim eyes, his poor; thin, little arm, and his pale lips? And that -morning the doctor went away after clasping our hands?" - -It is only Baby who does not remember anything. He only feels an -overpowering wish to restore his strength, fill out his cheeks and -recover his calves. - -"Papa, are we going to have dinner soon, eh, papa?" - -"Yes, it is getting dusk, wait a little." - -"But, papa, suppose we don't wait?" - -"In twenty minutes, you little glutton." - -"Twenty, is twenty a great many? If you eat twenty cutlets would it make -you ill? But with potatoes, and jam, and soup, and--is it still twenty -minutes?" - -Then again: "Papa, when there is beef with sauce," he has his mouth full -of it, "red tomato sauce." - -"Yes, dear, well?" - -"Well, a bullock is much bigger than what is on the dish; why don't they -bring the rest of the bullock? I could eat it all and then some bread -and then some haricots, and then--" - -He is insatiable when he has his napkin under his chin, and it is a -happiness to see the pleasure he feels in working his jaws. His little -eyes glisten, his cheeks grow red; what he puts away into his little -stomach it is impossible to say, and so busy is he that he has scarcely -time to laugh between two mouthfuls. Toward dessert his ardor slackens, -his look becomes more and more languid, his fingers relax and his eyes -close from time to time. - -"Mamma, I should like to go to bed," he says, rubbing his eyes. Baby is -coming round. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV - -FAMILY TIES - -The exhilaration of success and the fever of life's struggle take a man -away from his family, or cause him to live amid it as a stranger, and -soon he no longer finds any attractions in the things which charmed him -at the outset. But let ill luck come, let the cold wind blow rather -strongly, and he falls back upon himself, he seeks near him something to -support him in his weakness, a sentiment to replace his vanished dream, -and he bends toward his child, he takes his wife's hand and presses it. -He seems to invite these two to share his burden. Seeing tears in the -eyes of those he loves, his own seem diminished to that extent. It would -seem that moral suffering has the same effect as physical pain. The -drowning wretch clutches at straws; in the same way, the man whose heart -is breaking clasps his wife and children to him. He asks in turn for -help, protection, and comfort, and it is a touching thing to see the -strong shelter himself in the arms of the weak and recover courage in -their kiss. Children have the instinct of all this; and the liveliest -emotion they are capable of feeling is that which they experience on -seeing their father weep. - -Recall, dear reader, your most remote recollections, seek in that past -which seems to you all the clearer the farther you are removed from it. -Have you ever seen your father come home and sit down by the fire with a -tear in his eye? Then you dared not draw near him at first, so deeply -did you feel his grief. How unhappy he must be for his eyes to be wet. -Then you felt that a tie attached you to this poor man, that his -misfortune struck you too, that a part of it was yours, and that you were -smitten because your father was. And no one understands better than the -child this joint responsibility of the family to which he owes -everything. You have felt all this; your heart has swollen as you stood -silent in the corner, and sobs have broken forth as, without knowing why, -you have held out your arms toward him. He has turned, he has understood -all, he has not been able to restrain his grief any further, and you have -remained clasped in one another's arms, father, mother, and child, -without saying anything, but gazing at and understanding one another. -Did you, however, know the cause of the poor man's grief? - -Not at all. - -This is why filial love and paternal love have been poetized, why the -family is styled holy. It is because one finds therein the very source -of that need of loving, helping and sustaining one another, which from -time to time spreads over the whole of society, but in the shape of a -weakened echo. It is only from time to time in history that we see a -whole nation gather together, retire within itself and experience the -same thrill. - -A frightful convulsion is needed to make a million men hold out their -hands to one another and understand one another at a glance; it needs a -superhuman effort for the family to become the nation, and for the -boundaries of the hearth to extend to the frontiers. - -A complaint, a pang, a tear, is enough to make a man, a woman, and a -child, blend their hearts together and feel that they are but one. - -Laugh at marriage; the task is easy. All human contracts are tainted -with error, and an error is always smiled at by those who are not the -victims of it. There are husbands, it is certain; and when we see a man -tumble down, even if he knocks his brains out, our first impulse it to -burst out laughing. Hence the great and eternal mirth that greets -Sganarelle. - -But search to the bottom and behold that beneath all these trifles, -beneath all this dust of little exploded vanities, ridiculous mistakes -and comical passions, is hidden the very pivot of society. Verify that -in this all is for the best, since this family sentiment, which is the -basis of society, is also its consolation and joy. - -The honor of our flag, the love of country, and all that urges a man to -devote himself to something or some one not himself, are derived from -this sentiment, and in it, you may assert, is to be found the source -whence flow the great streams at which the human heart quenches its -thirst. - -Egotism for three, you say. What matter, if this egotism engenders -devotion? - -Will you reproach the butterfly with having been a caterpillar? - -Do not accuse me in all this of exaggeration, or of poetic exaltation. - -Yes, family life is very often calm and commonplace, the stock-pot that -figures on its escutcheon has not been put there without reason, I admit. -To the husband who should come and say to me: "Sir, for two days running -I have fallen asleep by the fireside," I should reply: "You are too lazy, -but after all I understand you." - -I also understand that Baby's trumpet is noisy, that articles of -jewellery are horribly dear, that lace flounces and sable trimmings are -equally so, that balls are wearisome, that Madame has her vapors, her -follies, exigencies; I understand, in short, that a man whose career is -prosperous looks upon his wife and child as two stumbling blocks. - -But I am waiting for the happy man, for the moment when his forehead will -wrinkle, when disappointment will descend upon his head like a leaden -skull-cap, and when picking up the two blocks he has cursed he will make -two crutches of them. - -I admit that Alexander the Great, Napoleon the First, and all the demi- -gods of humanity, have only felt at rare intervals the charm of being -fathers and husbands; but we other poor little men, who are less -occupied, must be one or the other. - -I do not believe in the happy old bachelor; I do not believe in the -happiness of all those who, from stupidity or calculation, have withdrawn -themselves from the best of social laws. A great deal has been said on -this subject, and I do not wish to add to the voluminous documents in -this lawsuit. Acknowledge frankly all you who have heard the cry of your -new-born child and felt your heart tingle like a glass on the point of -breaking, unless you are idiots, acknowledge that you said to yourselves: -"I am in the right. Here, and here alone, lies man's part. I am -entering on a path, beaten and worn, but straight; I shall cross the -weary downs, but each step will bring me nearer the village spire. I am -not wandering through life, I am marching on, I stir with my feet the -dust in which my father has planted his. My child, on the same road, -will find the traces of my footsteps, and, perhaps, on seeing that I have -not faltered, will say: 'Let me act like my old father and not lose -myself in the ploughed land.'" - -If the word holy has still a meaning, despite the uses it has been put -to, I do not see that a better use can be made of it than by placing it -beside the word family. - -They speak of progress, justice, general well-being, infallible policies, -patriotism, devotion. I am for all these good things, but this bright -horizon is summed up in these three words: "Love your neighbor," and this -is precisely, in my opinion, the thing they forget to teach. - -To love your neighbor is as simple as possible, but the mischief is that -you do not meet with this very natural feeling. There are people who -will show you the seed in the hollow of their hand, but even those who -deal in this precious grain are the last to show you it in leaf. - -Well, my dear reader, this little plant which should spring up like the -poppies in the wheat, this plant which has never been seen growing higher -than watercress, but which should overtop the oaks, this undiscoverable -plant, I know where it grows. - -It grows beside the domestic hearth, between the shovel and tongs; it is -there that it perpetuates itself, and if it still exists, it is to the -family that we owe it. I love pretty nearly all the philanthropists and -saviours of mankind; but I only believe in those who have learned to love -others by embracing their own children. - -Mankind can not be remodelled to satisfy the wants of humanitarian -theories; man is egotistical, and he loves, above all, those who are -about him. This is the natural human sentiment, and it is this which -must be enlarged, extended and cultivated. In a word, it is in family -love that is comprised love of country and consequently of humanity. -It is from fathers that citizens are made. - -Man has not twenty prime movers, but only one in his heart; do not argue -but profit by it. - -Affection is catching. Love between three--father, mother, and child-- -when it is strong, soon requires space; it pushes back the walls of the -house, and by degrees invites the neighbors. The important thing, then, -is to give birth to this love between three; for it is madness, I am -afraid, to thrust the whole human species all at once on a man's heart. -Such large mouthfuls are not to be swallowed at a gulp, nor without -preparation. - -This is why I have always thought that with the numerous sous given for -the redemption of the little Chinese, we might in France cause the fire -to sparkle on hearths where it sparkles no longer, make many eyes grow -brighter round a tureen of smoking soup, warm chilled mothers, bring -smiles to the pinched faces of children, and give pleasure and happiness -to poor discouraged ones on their return home. - -What a number of hearty kisses you might have brought about with all -these sous, and, in consequence, what a sprinkling with the watering-pot -for the little plant you wot of. - -"But then what is to become of the redemption of the little Chinese?" - -We will think of this later; we must first know how to love our own -before we are able to love those of others. - -No doubt, this is brutal and egotistical, but you can not alter it; it is -out of small faults that you build up great virtues. And, after all, do -not grumble, this very vanity is the foundation stone of that great -monument--at present still propped up by scaffolding--which is called -Society. - - - - -ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: - -Affection is catching -All babies are round, yielding, weak, timid, and soft -And I shall say 'damn it,' for I shall then be grown up -He Would Have Been Forty Now -How many things have not people been proud of -I am not wandering through life, I am marching on -I do not accept the hypothesis of a world made for us -I would give two summers for a single autumn -In his future arrange laurels for a little crown for your own -It (science) dreams, too; it supposes -Learned to love others by embracing their own children -Life is not so sweet for us to risk ourselves in it singlehanded -Man is but one of the links of an immense chain -Recollection of past dangers to increase the present joy -Respect him so that he may respect you -Shelter himself in the arms of the weak and recover courage -The future promises, it is the present that pays -The future that is rent away -The recollection of that moment lasts for a lifetime -Their love requires a return -Ties that unite children to parents are unloosed -Ties which unite parents to children are broken -To love is a great deal--To know how to love is everything -We are simple to this degree, that we do not think we are -When time has softened your grief - - - - -End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Monsieur, Madame, and Bebe, v3 -by Gustave Droz - - - - - - -ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS FOR THE ENTIRE MONSIEUR, MADAME AND BEBE: - -A ripe husband, ready to fall from the tree -Affection is catching -All babies are round, yielding, weak, timid, and soft -And I shall say 'damn it,' for I shall then be grown up -Answer "No," but with a little kiss which means "Yes" -As regards love, intention and deed are the same -But she thinks she is affording you pleasure -Clumsily, blew his nose, to the great relief of his two arms -Do not seek too much -Emotion when one does not share it -First impression is based upon a number of trifles -He Would Have Been Forty Now -Hearty laughter which men affect to assist digestion -How many things have not people been proud of -How rich we find ourselves when we rummage in old drawers -Husband who loves you and eats off the same plate is better -I would give two summers for a single autumn -I do not accept the hypothesis of a world made for us -I came here for that express purpose -I am not wandering through life, I am marching on -Ignorant of everything, undesirous of learning anything -In his future arrange laurels for a little crown for your own -It (science) dreams, too; it supposes -It is silly to blush under certain circumstances -Learned to love others by embracing their own children -Life is not so sweet for us to risk ourselves in it singlehanded -Love in marriage is, as a rule, too much at his ease -Man is but one of the links of an immense chain -Rather do not give--make yourself sought after -Reckon yourself happy if in your husband you find a lover -Recollection of past dangers to increase the present joy -Respect him so that he may respect you -Shelter himself in the arms of the weak and recover courage -Sometimes like to deck the future in the garments of the past -The heart requires gradual changes -The future that is rent away -The recollection of that moment lasts for a lifetime -The future promises, it is the present that pays -Their love requires a return -There are pious falsehoods which the Church excuses -Ties that unite children to parents are unloosed -Ties which unite parents to children are broken -To be able to smoke a cigar without being sick -To love is a great deal--To know how to love is everything -We are simple to this degree, that we do not think we are -When time has softened your grief -Why mankind has chosen to call marriage a man-trap - - - - -End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Monsieur, Madame, and Bebe, entire -by Gustave Droz - diff --git a/old/im13b10.zip b/old/im13b10.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 564c134..0000000 --- a/old/im13b10.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/old-2025-02-20/3926-0.txt b/old/old-2025-02-20/3926-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 9cd3348..0000000 --- a/old/old-2025-02-20/3926-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8464 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg’s Monsieur, Madame and Bebe, Complete, by Gustave Droz - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Monsieur, Madame and Bebe, Complete - -Author: Gustave Droz - -Last Updatee: March 2, 2009 -Release Date: August 23, 2016 [EBook #3926] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONSIEUR, MADAME AND BEBE, *** - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - - -MONSIEUR, MADAME AND BEBE - -By Gustave Droz - - - -Antoine-Gustave Droz was born in Paris, June 9, 1832. He was the son of -Jules-Antoine Droz, a celebrated French sculptor, and grand son of Jean -Pierre Droz, master of the mint and medalist under the Directoire. The -family is of Swiss origin. Gustave entered L’Ecole des Beaux Arts and -became quite a noted artist, coming out in the Salon of 1857 with the -painting ‘L’Obole de Cesar’. He also exhibited a little later various -‘tableaux de genre’: ‘Buffet de chemin de fer’ (1863), ‘A la Sacristie’ -and ‘Un Succes de Salon’ (1864), ‘Monsieur le Cure, vous avez Raison’ -and ‘Un Froid Sec’ (1865). - -Toward this period, however, he abandoned the art of painting and -launched on the career of an author, contributing under the name of -Gustave Z.... to ‘La Vie Parisienne’. His articles found great favor, -he showed himself an exquisite raconteur, a sharp observer of intimate -family life, and a most penetrating analyst. The very gallant sketches, -later reunited in ‘Monsieur, Madame, et Bebe’ (1866), and crowned by the -Academy, have gone through many editions. ‘Entre nous’ (1867) and ‘Une -Femme genante’, are written in the same humorous strain, and procured -him many admirers by the vivacious and sparkling representations of -bachelor and connubial life. However, Droz knows very well where to draw -the line, and has formally disavowed a lascivious novel published in -Belgium--‘Un Ete a la campagne’, often, but erroneously, attributed to -him. - -It seems that Gustave Droz later joined the pessimistic camp. His works, -at least, indicate other qualities than those which gained for him the -favor of the reading public. He becomes a more ingenious romancer, a -more delicate psychologist. If some of his sketches are realistic, we -must consider that realism is not intended ‘pour les jeunes filles du -pensiannat’. - -Beside the works mentioned in the above text, Gustave Droz wrote: ‘Le -Cahier bleu de Mademoiselle Cibot (1868), ‘Auteur d’une Source (1869), -‘Un Paquet de Lettres’ (1870), ‘Babolain’ (1872), ‘Les Etangs’ (1875), -‘Tristesses et Sourires (1883), and L’Enfant (1884). - -He died in Paris, October 22, 1895. - - CAMILLE DOUCET - de l’Academie Francaise. - - - - - -BOOK 1. - - - - -CHAPTER I. MY FIRST SUPPER PARTY - -The devil take me if I can remember her name, notwithstanding I dearly -loved her, the charming girl! - -It is strange how rich we find ourselves when we rummage in old drawers; -how many forgotten sighs, how many pretty little trinkets, broken, -old-fashioned, and dusty, we come across. But no matter. I was now -eighteen, and, upon my honor, very unsuspecting. It was in the arms -of that dear--I have her name at the tip of my tongue, it ended in -“ine”--it was in her arms, the dear child, that I murmured my first -words of love, while I was close to her rounded shoulder, which had a -pretty little mole, where I imprinted my first kiss. I adored her, and -she returned my affection. - -I really think I should have married her, and that cheerfully, I can -assure you, if it had not been that on certain details of moral weakness -her past life inspired me with doubts, and her present with uneasiness. -No man is perfect; I was a trifle jealous. - -Well, one evening--it was Christmas eve--I called to take her to supper -with a friend of mine whom I esteemed much, and who became an examining -magistrate, I do not know where, but he is now dead. - -I went upstairs to the room of the sweet girl, and was quite surprised -to find her ready to start. She had on, I remember, a square-cut bodice, -a little too low to my taste, but it became her so well that when she -embraced me I was tempted to say: “I say, pet, suppose we remain here”; -but she took my arm, humming a favorite air of hers, and we soon found -ourselves in the street. - -You have experienced, have you not, this first joy of the youth who at -once becomes a man when he has his sweetheart on his arm? He trembles at -his boldness, and scents on the morrow the paternal rod; yet all these -fears are dissipated in the presence of the ineffable happiness of the -moment. He is free, he is a man, he loves, he is loved, he is conscious -that he is taking a forward step in life. He would like all Paris to see -him thus, yet he is afraid of being recognized; he would give his little -finger to grow three hairs on his upper lip, and to have a wrinkle on -his brow, to be able to smoke a cigar without being sick, and to polish -off a glass of punch without coughing. - -When we reached my friend’s, the aforesaid examining magistrate, we -found a numerous company; from the anteroom we could hear bursts of -laughter, noisy conversation, accompanied by the clatter of plate and -crockery, which was being placed upon the table. I was a little excited; -I knew that I was the youngest of the party, and I was afraid of -appearing awkward on that night of revelry. I said to myself: “Old -boy, you must face the music, do the grand, and take your liquor like a -little man; your sweetheart is here, and her eyes are fixed on you.” The -idea, however, that I might be ill next morning did indeed trouble me; -in my mind’s eye, I saw my poor mother bringing me a cup of tea, and -weeping over my excesses, but I chased away all such thoughts and really -all went well up till suppertime. My sweetheart had been pulled about a -little, no doubt; one or two men had even kissed her under my very nose, -but I at once set down these details to the profit and loss column, and -in all sincerity I was proud and happy. - -“My young friends,” suddenly exclaimed our host, “it is time to use your -forks vigorously. Let us adjourn to the diningroom.” - -Joyful shouts greeted these words, and, amid great disorder, the guests -arranged themselves round the table, at each end of which I noticed -two plates filled up with those big cigars of which I could not smoke a -quarter without having a fit of cold shivers. - -“Those cigars will lead to a catastrophe, if I don’t use prudence and -dissemble,” said I to myself. - -I do not know how it was, but my sweetheart found herself seated on the -left of the host. I did not like that, but what could I say? And then, -the said host, with his twenty-five summers, his moustache curled up at -the ends, and his self-assurance, seemed to me the most ideal, the most -astounding of young devils, and I felt for him a shade of respect. - -“Well,” he said, with captivating volubility, “you are feeling yourself -at home, are you not? You know any guest who feels uncomfortable in his -coat may take it off... and the ladies, too. Ha! ha! ha! That’s the way -to make one’s self happy, is it not, my little dears?” And before he had -finished laughing he printed a kiss right and left on the necks of his -two neighbors, one of whom, as I have already said, was my beloved. - -The ill-bred dog! I felt my hair rise on end and my face glow like -red-hot iron. For the rest, everybody burst out laughing, and from that -moment the supper went on with increased animation. - -“My young friends,” was the remark of that infernal examining -magistrate, “let us attack the cold meat, the sausages, the turkey, the -salad; let us at the cakes, the cheese, the oysters, and the grapes; -let us attack the whole show. Waiter, draw the corks and we will eat up -everything at once, eh, my cherubs? No ceremony, no false delicacy. This -is fine fun; it is Oriental, it is splendid. In the centre of Africa -everybody acts in this manner. We must introduce poetry into our -pleasures. Pass me some cheese with my turkey. Ha! ha! ha! I feel queer, -I am wild, I am crazy, am I not, pets?” And he bestowed two more kisses, -as before. If I had not been already drunk, upon my honor, I should have -made a scene. - -I was stupid. Around me they were laughing, shouting, singing, and -rattling their plates. A racket of popping corks and breaking glasses -buzzed in my ears, but it seemed to me that a cloud had risen between me -and the outer world; a veil separated me from the other guests, and, in -spite of the evidence of my senses, I thought I was dreaming. I could -distinguish, however, though in a confused manner, the animated glances -and heightened color of the guests, and, above all, a disorder quite -new to me in the toilettes of the ladies. Even my sweetheart appeared to -have changed. Suddenly--it was as a flash of lightning--my beloved, my -angel, my ideal, she whom that very morning I was ready to marry, -leaned toward the examining magistrate and--I still feel the cold -shudder--devoured three truffles which were on his plate. - -I experienced keen anguish; it seemed to me as if my heart were breaking -just then. - -Here my recollections cease. What then took place I do not know. All I -remember is that some one took me home in a cab. I kept asking: “Where -is she? Where? Oh, where?” - -I was told that she had left two hours before. The next morning I -experienced a keen sense of despair when the truffles of the examining -magistrate came back to mind. For a moment I had a vague idea of -entering upon holy orders, but time--you know what it is--calmed my -troubled breast. But what the devil was her name? It ended in “ine.” - Indeed, no, I believe it ended in “a.” - - - - -CHAPTER II. THE SOUL IN AGONY. TO MONSIEUR CLAUDE DE L-------- - - Seminary of P------sur-C------- - - (Haute-Saone). - -It affords me unspeakable pleasure to sit down to address you, dear -Claude. Must I tell you that I can not think without pious emotion of -that life which but yesterday we were leading together at the Jesuits’ -College. How well I remember our long talks under the great trees, the -pious pilgrimages we daily made to the Father Superior’s Calvary, our -charming readings, the darting forth of our two souls toward the eternal -source of all greatness and all goodness. I can still see the little -chapel which you fitted up one day in your desk, the pretty wax tapers -we made for it, which we lighted one day during the cosmography class. - -Oh, sweet recollections, how dear you are to me! Charming details of -a calm and holy life, with what happiness do I recall you! Time -in separating you from me seems only to have brought you nearer in -recollection. I have seen life, alas! during these six long months, but, -in acquiring a knowledge of the world, I have learned to love still more -the innocent ignorance of my past existence. Wiser than myself, you -have remained in the service of the Lord; you have understood the divine -mission which had been reserved for you; you have been unwilling to step -over the profane threshold and to enter the world, that cavern, I ought -to say, in which I am now assailed, tossed about like a frail bark -during a tempest. Nay, the anger of the waves of the sea compared -to that of the passions is mere child’s play. Happy friend, who art -ignorant of what I have learned. Happy friend, whose eyes have not yet -measured the abyss into which mine are already sunk. - -But what was I to do? Was I not obliged--despite my vocation and the -tender friendship which called me to your side--was I not obliged, I -say, to submit to the exigencies imposed by the name I bear, and also to -the will of my father, who destined me for a military career in order to -defend a noble cause which you too would defend? In short, I obeyed and -quitted the college of the Fathers never to return again. - -I went into the world, my heart charged with the salutary fears which -our pious education had caused to grow up there. I advanced cautiously, -but very soon recoiled horror-stricken. I am eighteen; I am still young, -I know, but I have already reflected much, while the experience of my -pious instructors has imparted to my soul a precocious maturity which -enables me to judge of many things; besides my faith is so firmly -established and so deeply rooted in my being, that I can look about me -without danger. I do not fear for my own salvation, but I am shocked -when I think of the future of our modern society, and I pray the -Lord fervently, from a heart untainted by sin, not to turn away His -countenance in wrath from our unhappy country. Even here, at the seat of -my cousin, the Marchioness K------de C------, where I am at the -present moment, I can discover nothing but frivolity among the men, and -dangerous coquetry among the women. The pernicious atmosphere of the -period seems to pervade even the highest rank of the French aristocracy. -Sometimes discussions occur on matters pertaining to science and morals, -which aim a kind of indirect blow at religion itself, of which our Holy -Father the Pope should alone be called on to decide. In this way God -permits, at the present day, certain petty savants, flat-headed men -of science, to explain in a novel fashion the origin of humanity, and, -despite the excommunication which will certainly overtake them, to throw -down a wild and impious challenge at the most venerable traditions. - -I have not myself desired to be enlightened in regard to such base -depravity, but I have heard with poignant grief men with great minds and -illustrious names attach some importance to it. - -As to manners and customs, they are, without being immoral, which would -be out of the question in our society, distinguished by a frivolity and -a faculty for being carried away with allurements which are shocking in -the extreme. I will only give you a single example of this, although it -is one that has struck me most forcibly. - -Ten minutes’ walk from the house there is a charming little stream -overshadowed by spreading willows; the current is slight, the water -pellucid, and the bed covered with sand so fine that one’s feet sink -into it like a carpet. Now, would you believe it, dear friend, that, in -this hot weather, all those staying at the house go at the same time, -together, and, without distinction of sex, bathe in it? A simple -garment of thin stuff, and very tight, somewhat imperfectly screens the -strangely daring modesty of the ladies. Forgive me, my pious friend, for -entering into all these details, and for troubling the peacefulness of -your soul by this picture of worldly scenes, but I promised to share -with you my impressions, as well as my most secret thoughts. It is a -sacred contract which I am fulfilling. - -I will, therefore, acknowledge that these bathing scenes shocked me -greatly, the first time I heard them spoken of. I resented it with a -species of disgust easy to understand, while I positively refused to -take part in them. To speak the truth, I was chafed a little; still, -these worldly railleries could not touch me, and had no effect on my -determination. - -Yesterday, however, about five in the afternoon, the Marchioness sent -for me, and managed the affair so neatly, that it was impossible for me -not to act as her escort. - -We started. The maid carried the bathing costumes both of the -Marchioness and of my sister, who was to join us later. - -“I know,” said my cousin, “that you swim well; the fame of your -abilities has reached us here from your college. You are going to teach -me to float, eh, Robert?” - -“I do not set much store by such paltry physical acquirements, cousin,” - I replied; “I swim fairly, nothing more.” - -And I turned my head to avoid an extremely penetrating aroma with -which her hair was impregnated. You know very well that I am subject to -nervous attacks. - -“But, my dear child, physical advantages are not so much to be -despised.” - -This “dear child” displeased me much. My cousin is twenty-six, it -is true, but I am no longer, properly speaking, a “dear child,” and -besides, it denoted a familiarity which I did not care for. It was, on -the part of the Marchioness, one of the consequences of that frivolity -of mind, that carelessness of speech which I mentioned above, and -nothing more; still, I was shocked at it. She went on: - -“Exaggerated modesty is not good form in society,” she said, turning -toward me with a smile. “You will, in time, make a very handsome -cavalier, my dear Robert, and that which you now lack is easy to -acquire. For instance, you should have your hair dressed by the -Marquis’s valet. He will do it admirably, and then you will be -charming.” - -You must understand, my dear Claude, that I met these advances with a -frigidity of manner that left no doubt as to my intentions. - -“I repeat, my cousin,” said I to her, “I attach to all this very little -importance,” and I emphasized my words by a firm and icy look. Then -only, for I had not before cast my eyes on her, did I notice the -peculiar elegance of her toilette, an elegance for which, unhappily, -the perishable beauty of her person served as a pretext and an -encouragement. - -Her arms were bare, and her wrists covered with bracelets; the upper -part of her neck was insufficiently veiled by the too slight fabric of -a transparent gauze; in short, the desire to please was displayed in her -by all the details of her appearance. I was stirred at the aspect of so -much frivolity, and I felt myself blush for pity, almost for shame. - -We reached, at length, the verge of the stream. She loosed my arm and -unceremoniously slid down, I can not say seated herself, upon the -grass, throwing back the long curls depending from her chignon. The -word chignon, in the language of society, denotes that prominence of the -cranium which is to be seen at the back of ladies’ heads. It is produced -by making coils or plaits of their long hair. I have cause to believe, -from certain allusions I have heard, that many of these chignons are not -natural. There are women, most worthy daughters of Eve, who purchase -for gold the hair--horyesco referens--of the wretched or the dead. It -sickens one. - -“It is excessively hot, my dear cousin,” said she, fanning herself. “I -tremble every moment in such weather lest Monsieur de Beaurenard’s nose -should explode or catch fire. Ha, ha, ha. Upon my word of honor I do.” - -She exploded with laughter at this joke, an unbecoming one, and without -much point. Monsieur de Beaurenard is a friend of the Marquis, who -happens to have a high color. Out of politeness, I forced a smile, which -she, no doubt, took for approbation, for she then launched out into -conversation--an indescribable flow of chatter, blending the most -profane sentiments with the strangest religious ideas, the quiet of -the country with the whirl of society, and all this with a freedom of -gesture, a charm of expression, a subtlety of glance, and a species -of earthly poesy, by which any other soul than mine would have been -seduced. - -“This is a pretty spot, this charming little nook, is it not?” - -“Certainly, my dear cousin.” - -“And these old willows with their large tops overhanging the stream; -see how the field-flowers cluster gayly about their battered trunks! How -strange, too, that young foliage, so elegant, so silvery, those branches -so slender and so supple! So much elegance, freshness and youth shooting -up from that old trunk which seems as if accursed!” - -“God does not curse a vegetable, my cousin.” - -“That is possible; but I can not help finding in willows something which -is suggestive of humanity. Perpetual old age resembles punishment. That -old reprobate of the bank there is expiating and suffering, that old -Quasimodo of the fields. What would you that I should do about it, my -cousin, for that is the impression that it gives me? What is there to -tell me that the willow is not the final incarnation of an impenitent -angler?” And she burst out laughing. - -“Those are pagan ideas, and as such are so opposed to the dogmas of -faith, that I am obliged, in order to explain their coming from your -mouth, to suppose that you are trying to make a fool of me.” - -“Not the least in the world; I am not making fun of you, my dear Robert. -You are not a baby, you know! Come, go and get ready for a swim; I will -go into my dressing-tent and do the same.” - -She saluted me with her hand, as she lifted one of the sides of the -tent, with unmistakable coquetry. What a strange mystery is the heart of -woman! - -I sought out a spot shaded by the bushes, thinking over these things; -but it was not long before I had got into my bathing costume. I thought -of you, my pious friend, as I was buttoning the neck and the wrists -of this conventional garment. How many times have you not helped me -to execute this little task about which I was so awkward. Briefly, I -entered the water and was about to strike out when the sound of the -marchioness’s voice assailed my ears. She was talking with her maid -inside the tent. I stopped and listened; not out of guilty curiosity, -I can assure you, but out of a sincere wish to become better acquainted -with that soul. - -“No, no, Julie,” the marchioness was saying. “No, no; I won’t hear you -say any more about that frightful waterproof cap. The water gets inside -and does not come out. Twist up my hair in a net; nothing more is -required.” - -“Your ladyship’s hair will get wet.” - -“Then you can powder it. Nothing is better for drying than powder. And -so, I shall wear my light blue dress this evening; blond powder will -go with it exactly. My child, you are becoming foolish. I told you to -shorten my bathing costume, by taking it up at the knees. Just see what -it looks like!” - -“I was fearful that your ladyship would find it too tight for swimming.” - -“Tight! Then why have you taken it in three good inches just here? See -how it wrinkles up; it is ridiculous, don’t you see it, my girl, don’t -you see it?” - -The sides of the tent were moved; and I guessed that my cousin was -somewhat impatiently assuming the costume in question, in order the -better to point out its defects to her maid. - -“I don’t want to look as if I were wound up in a sheet, but yet I want -to be left freedom of action. You can not get it into your head, -Julie, that this material will not stretch. You see now that I stoop a -little-Ah! you see it at last, that’s well.” - -Weak minds! Is it not true, my pious friend, that there are those who -can be absorbed by such small matters? I find these preoccupations to be -so frivolous that I was pained at being even the involuntary recipient -of them, and I splashed the water with my hands to announce my presence -and put a stop to a conversation which shocked me. - -“I am coming to you, Robert; get into the water. Has your sister arrived -yet?” said my cousin, raising her voice; then softly, and addressing her -maid, she added: “Yes, of course, lace it tightly. I want support.” - -One side of the tent was raised, and my relative appeared. I know not -why I shuddered, as if at the approach of some danger. She advanced two -or three steps on the fine sand, drawing from her fingers as she did so, -the gold rings she was accustomed to wear; then she stopped, handed -them to Julie, and, with a movement which I can see now, but which it -is impossible for me to describe to you, kicked off into the grass the -slippers, with red bows, which enveloped her feet. - -She had only taken three paces, but it sufficed to enable me to remark -the singularity of her gait. She walked with short, timid steps, her -bare arms close to her sides. - -She had divested herself of all the outward tokens of a woman, save the -tresses of her hair, which were rolled up in a net. As for the rest, -she was a comical-looking young man, at once slender yet afflicted by an -unnatural plumpness, one of those beings who appear to us in dreams, and -in the delirium of fever, one of those creatures toward whom an unknown -power attracts us, and who resemble angels too nearly not to be demons. - -“Well, Robert, of what are you thinking? Give me your hand and help me -to get into the water.” - -She dipped the toes of her arched foot into the pellucid stream. - -“This always gives one a little shock, but the water ought to be -delightful to-day,” said she. “But what is the matter with you?--your -hand shakes. You are a chilly mortal, cousin.” - -The fact is, I was not trembling either through fear or cold; but on -approaching the Marchioness, the sharp perfume which emanated from -her hair went to my head, and with my delicate nerves you will readily -understand that I was about to faint. I mastered this sensation, -however. She took a firm grip of my hand, as one would clasp the knob of -a cane or the banister of a stair, and we advanced into the stream side -by side. - -As we advanced the stream became deeper. The Marchioness, as the water -rose higher, gave vent to low cries of fear resembling the hiss of a -serpent; then she broke out into ringing bursts of laughter, and drew -closer and closer to me. Finally, she stopped, and turning she looked -straight into my eyes. I felt then that moment was a solemn one. I -thought a hidden precipice was concealed at my feet, my heart throbbed -as if it would burst, and my head seemed to be on fire. - -“Come now, teach me to float on my back, Robert. Legs straight and -extended, arms close to the body, that’s the way, is it not?” - -“Yes, my dear cousin, and move your hands gently under you.” - -“Very good; here goes, then. One, two, three-off! Oh, what a little -goose I am, I’m afraid! Oh cousin, support me, just a little bit.” - -That was the moment when I ought to have said to her: “No, Madame, I am -not the man to support coquettes, and I will not.” But I did not dare -say that; my tongue remained silent, and I passed my arm round the -Marchioness’s waist, in order to support her more easily. - -Alas! I had made a mistake; perhaps an irreparable one. - -In that supreme moment it was but too true that I adored her seductive -charms. Let me cut it short. When I held her thus it seemed to me that -all the blood in my body rushed back to my heart--a deadly thrill ran -through every limb--from shame and indignation, no doubt; my vision -became obscure; it seemed as if my soul was leaving my body, and I fell -forward fainting, and dragged her down to the bottom of the water in a -mortal clutch. - -I heard a loud cry. I felt her arms interlace my neck, her clenched -fingers sink deep into my flesh, and all was over. I had lost -consciousness. - -When I came to myself I was lying on the grass. Julie was chafing my -hands, and the Marchioness, in her bathing-dress, which was streaming -with water, was holding a vinaigrette to my nose. She looked at -me severely, although in her glance there was a shade of pleased -satisfaction, the import of which escaped me. - -“Baby! you great baby!” said she. - -Now that you know all the facts, my pious friend, bestow on me the favor -of your counsel, and thank heaven that you live remote from scenes like -these. - - With heart and soul, - Your sincere friend, - ROBERT DE K-----DEC------. - - - - -CHAPTER III. MADAME DE K. - -It is possible that you know Madame de K.; if this be so, I congratulate -you, for she is a very remarkable person. Her face is pretty, but they -do not say of her, “Ah, what a pretty woman!” They say: “Madame de K.? -Ah! to be sure, a fine woman!” Do you perceive the difference? it is -easy to grasp it. That which charms in her is less what one sees than -what one guesses at. Ah! to be sure, a fine woman! That is what is said -after dinner when we have dined at her house, and when her husband, who -unfortunately is in bad health and does not smoke, has gone to fetch -cigars from his desk. It is said in a low tone, as though in confidence; -but from this affected reserve, it is easy to read conviction on the -part of each of the guests. The ladies in the drawing room do not -suspect the charming freedom which characterizes the gossip of the -gentlemen when they have gone into the smoking-room to puff their cigars -over a cup of coffee. - -“Yes, yes, she is a very fine woman.” - -“Ah! the deuce, expansive beauty, opulent.” - -“But poor De K. makes me feel anxious; he does not seem to get any -better. Does it not alarm you, Doctor?” - -Every one smiles ‘sub rosa’ at the idea that poor De K., who has gone to -fetch cigars, pines away visibly, while his wife is so well. - -“He is foolish; he works too hard, as I have told him. His position at -the ministry--thanks, I never take sugar.” - -“But, really, it is serious, for after all he is not strong,” ventures a -guest, gravely, biting his lips meanwhile to keep from laughing. - -“I think even that within the last year her beauty has developed,” says -a little gentleman, stirring his coffee. - -“De K.’s beauty? I never could see it.” - -“I don’t say that.” - -“Excuse me, you did; is it not so, Doctor?” - -“Forsooth!”--“How now! Come, let us make the distinction.”--“Ha, ha, -ha!” And there is a burst of that hearty laughter which men affect to -assist digestion. The ice is broken, they draw closer to each other and -continue in low tones: - -“She has a fine neck! for when she turned just now it looked as if it -had been sculptured.” - -“Her neck, her neck! but what of her hands, her arms and her shoulders! -Did you see her at Leon’s ball a fortnight ago? A queen, my dear fellow, -a Roman empress. Neck, shoulders, arms--” - -“And all the rest,” hazards some one, looking down into his cup. All -laugh heartily, and the good De K. comes in with a box of cigars which -look exceptional. - -“Here you are, my friends,” he says, coughing slightly, “but let me -recommend you to smoke carefully.” - -I have often dined with my friend De K., and I have always, or almost -always, heard a conversation similar to the preceding. But I must -avow that the evening on which I heard the impertinent remark of this -gentleman I was particularly shocked; first, because De K. is my friend, -and in the second place because I can not endure people who speak of -that of which they know nothing. I make bold to say that I alone in -Paris understand this matter to the bottom. Yes, yes, I alone; and the -reason is not far to seek. Paul and his brother are in England; Ernest -is a consul in America; as for Leon, he is at Hycres in his little -subprefecture. You see, therefore, that in truth I am the only one in -Paris who can-- - -“But hold, Monsieur Z., you must be joking. Explain yourself; come to -the point. Do you mean to say that Madame de K.--oh! dear me! but that -is most ‘inconvenant’!” - -Nothing, nothing! I am foolish. Let us suppose that I had not spoken, -ladies; let us speak of something else. How could the idea have got -into my head of saying anything about “all the rest”? Let us talk of -something else. - -It was a real spring morning, the rain fell in torrents and the north -wind blew furiously, when the damsel, more dead than alive---- - -The fact is, I feel I can not get out of it. It will be better to tell -all. Only swear to me to be discreet. On your word of honor? Well, then, -here goes. - -I am, I repeat, the only man in Paris who can speak from knowledge of -“all the rest” in regard to Madame de K. - -Some years ago--but do not let us anticipate--I say, some years ago I -had an intimate friend at whose house we met many evenings. In summer -the windows were left open, and we used to sit in armchairs and chat -of affairs by the light of our cigars. Now, one evening, when we were -talking of fishing--all these details are still fresh in my memory--we -heard the sound of a powerful harpsichord, and soon followed the harsh -notes of a voice more vigorous than harmonious, I must admit. - -“Aha! she has altered her hours,” said Paul, regarding one of the -windows of the house opposite. - -“Who has changed her hours, my dear fellow?” - -“My neighbor. A robust voice, don’t you think so? Usually she practises -in the morning, and I like that better, for it is the time I go out for -a walk.” - -Instinctively I glanced toward the lighted window, and through the drawn -curtains I distinctly perceived a woman, dressed in white, with her hair -loose, and swaying before her instrument like a person conscious that -she was alone and responding to her own inspirations. - -“My Fernand, go, seek glo-o-o-ry,” she was singing at the top of her -voice. The singing appeared to me mediocre, but the songstress in her -peignoir interested me much. - -“Gentlemen,” said I, “it appears to me there is behind that frail -tissue”--I alluded to the curtain--“a very handsome woman. Put out -your cigars, if you please; their light might betray our presence and -embarrass the fair singer.” - -The cigars were at once dropped--the window was even almost completely -closed for greater security--and we began to watch. - -This was not, I know, quite discreet, but, as the devil willed it, we -were young bachelors, all five of us, and then, after all, dear reader, -would not you have done the same? - -When the song was concluded, the singer rose. It was very hot and -her garment must have been very thin, for the light, which was at the -farther end of the room, shone through the fabric. It was one of those -long robes which fall to the feet, and which custom has reserved for -night wear. The upper part is often trimmed with lace, the sleeves are -wide, the folds are long and flowing, and usually give forth a perfume -of ambergris or violet. But perhaps you know this garment as well as I. -The fair one drew near the looking-glass, and it seemed to us that she -was contemplating her face; then she raised her hands in the air, and, -in the graceful movement she made, the sleeve, which was unbuttoned and -very loose, slipped from her beautifully rounded arm, the outline of -which we distinctly perceived. - -“The devil!” said Paul, in a stifled voice, but he could say no more. - -The songstress then gathered up her hair, which hung very low, in her -two hands and twisted it in the air, just as the washerwomen do. Her -head, which we saw in profile, inclined a little forward, and her -shoulders, which the movement of her arms threw back, presented a more -prominent and clear outline. - -“Marble, Parian marble!” muttered Paul. “O Cypris! Cytherea! Paphia!” - -“Be quiet, you donkey!” - -It really seemed as if the flame of the candle understood our -appreciation and ministered specially to our admiration. Placed behind -the fair songstress, it illuminated her so perfectly that the garment -with the long folds resembled those thin vapors which veil the horizon -without hiding it, and in a word, the most inquisitive imagination, -disarmed by so much courtesy, was ready to exclaim, “That is enough!” - -Soon the fair one moved forward toward her bed, sat down in a very low -armchair, in which she stretched herself out at her ease, and remained -for some moments, with her hands clasped over her head and her limbs -extended. Just then midnight struck; we saw her take her right leg -slowly and cross it over her left, when we perceived that she had not -yet removed her shoes and stockings. - -But what is the use of asking any more about it? These recollections -trouble me, and, although they have fixed themselves in my mind-very -firmly indeed, I can assure you--I feel an embarrassment mingled with -modesty at relating all to you at length. Besides, at the moment she -turned down the clothes, and prepared, to get into bed, the light went -out. - -On the morrow, about ten o’clock in the evening, we all five again found -ourselves at Paul’s, four of us with opera-glasses in our pockets. As -on the previous evening, the fair songstress sat down at her piano, then -proceeded slowly to make her night toilette. There was the same grace, -the same charm, but when we came to the fatal moment at which on the -preceding night the candle had gone out, a faint thrill ran through -us all. To tell the truth, for my part, I was nervous. Heaven, very -fortunately, was now on our side; the candle continued to burn. The -young woman then, with her charming hand, the plump outlines of which -we could easily distinguish, smoothed the pillow, patted it, arranged -it with a thousand caressing precautions in which the thought was -suggested, “With what happiness shall I now go and bury my head in it!” - -Then she smoothed down the little wrinkles in the bed, the contact with -which might have irritated her, and, raising herself on her right arm, -like a horseman, about to get into the saddle, we saw her left knee, -smooth and shining as marble, slowly bury itself. We seemed to hear a -kind of creaking, but this creaking sounded joyful. The sight was brief, -too brief, alas! and it was in a species of delightful confusion that we -perceived a well-rounded limb, dazzlingly white, struggling in the silk -of the quilt. At length everything became quiet again, and it was as -much as we could do to make out a smooth, rose-tinted little foot which, -not being sleepy, still lingered outside and fidgeted with the silken -covering. - -Delightful souvenir of my lively youth! My pen splutters, my paper seems -to blush to the color of that used by the orange-sellers. I believe I -have said too much. - -I learned some time afterward that my friend De K. was about to be -married, and, singularly enough, was going to wed this beautiful -creature with whom I was so well acquainted. - -“A charming woman!” I exclaimed one day. - -“You know her, then?” said someone. - -“I? No, not the least in the world.” - -“But?” - -“Yes-no, let me see; I have seen her once at high mass.” - -“She is not very pretty,” some one remarked to me. - -“No, not her face,” I rejoined, and added to myself, “No, not her face, -but all the rest!” - -It is none the less true that for some time past this secret has been -oppressing me, and, though I decided to-day to reveal it to you, it was -because it seems to me that to do so would quiet my conscience. - -But, for Heaven’s sake, let me entreat you, do not noise abroad the -affair! - - - - -CHAPTER IV. SOUVENIRS OF LENT - -The faithful are flocking up the steps of the temple; spring toilettes -already glitter in the sun; trains sweep the dust with their long -flowing folds; feathers and ribbons flutter; the bell chimes solemnly, -while carriages keep arriving at a trot, depositing upon the pavement -all that is most pious and most noble in the Faubourg, then draw up in -line at the farther end of the square. - -Be quick, elbow your way through the crowd if you want a good place; -the Abbe Gelon preaches to-day on abstinence, and when the Abbe Gelon -preaches it is as if Patti were singing. - -Enter Madame, pushes the triple door, which recloses heavily, brushes -with rapid fingers the holywater sprinkler which that pious old man -holds out, and carefully makes a graceful little sign of the cross so as -not to spot her ribbons. - -Do you hear these discreet and aristocratic whisperings? - -“Good morning, my dear.” - -“Good morning, dear. It is always on abstinence that he preaches, is it -not? Have you a seat?” - -“Yes, yes, come with me. You have got on your famous bonnet, I see?” - -“Yes; do you like it? It is a little showy, is it not? What a multitude -of people! Where is your husband?” - -“Showy! Oh, no, it is splendid. My husband is in the churchwarden’s pew; -he left before me; he is becoming a fanatic--he speaks of lunching on -radishes and lentils.” - -“That ought to be very consoling to you.” - -“Don’t mention it. Come with me. See; there are Ernestine and Louise. -Poor Louise’s nose, always the same; who would believe that she drinks -nothing stronger than water?” - -The ladies push their way among the chairs, some of which they upset -with the greatest unconcern. - -Arrived at their places they sink down on their knees, and, moist-eyed -and full of feeling, cast a look of veiled adoration toward the high -altar, then hide their faces with their gloved hands. - -For a very few minutes they gracefully deprecate themselves in the eyes -of the Lord, then, taking their seats, coquettishly arrange the immense -bows of their bonnet-strings, scan the assembly through a gold eyeglass, -with the little finger turning up; finally, while smoothing down the -satin folds of a dress difficult to keep in place, they scatter, right -and left, charming little recognitions and delightful little smiles. - -“Are you comfortable, dear?” - -“Quite, thanks. Do you see in front there, between the two tapers, -Louise and Madame de C-------? Is it allowable in any one to come to -church got up like that?” - -“Oh! I have never believed much in the piety of Madame de C-------. You -know her history--the story of the screen? I will tell it you later. Ah! -there is the verger.” - -The verger shows his bald head in the pulpit of truth. He arranges the -seat, adjusts the kneeling-stool, then withdraws and allows the Abbe -Gelon, who is somewhat pale from Lenten fasting, but striking, as he -always is, in dignity, elegance, and unction. A momentary flutter passes -through the congregation, then they settle down comfortably. The noise -dies away, and all eyes are eagerly looking toward the face of the -preacher. With his eyes turned to heaven, the latter stands upright and -motionless; a light from above may be divined in his inspired look; -his beautiful, white hands, encircled at the wrists by fine lace, are -carelessly placed on the red velvet cushion of the pulpit. He waits a -few moments, coughs twice, unfolds his handkerchief, deposits his square -hat in a corner, and, bending forward, lets fall from his lips in those -sweet slow, persuasive tones, by which he is known, the first words of -his sermon, “Ladies!” - -With this single word he has already won all hearts. Slowly he casts -over his audience a mellow glance, which penetrates and attracts; then, -having uttered a few Latin words which he has the tact to translate -quickly into French, he continues: - -“What is it to abstain? Why should we abstain? How should we abstain? -Those are the three points, ladies, I shall proceed to discuss.” - -He blows his nose, coughs; a holy thrill stirs every heart. How will he -treat this magnificent subject? Let us listen. - -Is it not true, Madame, that your heart is piously stirred, and that at -this moment you feel an actual thirst for abstinence and mortification? - -The holy precincts are bathed in a soft obscurity, similar to that of -your boudoir, and inducing revery. - -I know not how much of the ineffable and of the vaguely exhilarating -penetrates your being. But the voice of this handsome and venerated old -man has, amidst the deep silence, something deliciously heavenly about -it. Mysterious echoes repeat from the far end of the temple each of his -words, and in the dim light of the sanctuary the golden candlesticks -glitter like precious stones. The old stained-glass windows with their -symbolic figures become suddenly illuminated, a flood of light and -sunshine spreads through the church like a sheet of fire. Are the -heavens opening? Is the Spirit from on high descending among us? - -While lost in pious revery, which soothes and lulls, one gazes with -ecstasy on the fanciful details of the sculptures which vanish in -the groined roof above, and on the quaint pipes of the organ with its -hundred voices. The beliefs of childhood piously inculcated in your -heart suddenly reawaken; a vague perfume of incense again penetrates -the air. The stone pillars shoot up to infinite heights, and from these -celestial arches depends the golden lamp which sways to and fro in -space, diffusing its eternal light. Truly, God is great. - -By degrees the sweet tones of the preacher enrapture one more and more, -and the sense of his words are lost; and, listening to the divine murmur -of that saint-like voice, your eyes, like those of a child falling -asleep in the bosom of the Creator, close. - -You do not go to sleep, but your head inclines forward, the ethereal -light surrounds you, and your soul, delighting in the uncertain, plunges -into celestial space, and loses itself in infinity. - -What a sweet and holily intoxicating sensation, a delicious -ecstasy! Nevertheless, there are those who smile at this religious -raise-en-scene, these pomps and splendors, this celestial music, which -soothes the nerves and thrills the brain! Pity on these scoffers who do -not comprehend the ineffable delight of being able to open at will the -gates of Paradise to themselves, and to become, at odd moments, one with -the angels! But what purpose does it serve to speak of the faithless -and of their harmless, smiles? As the Abbe Gelon has in his inimitable -manner observed, “The heart is a fortress, incessantly assailed by the -spirit of darkness.” - -The idea of a constant struggle with this powerful being has something -about it that adds tenfold to our strength and flatters our vanity. -What, alone in your fortress, Madame; alone with the spirit of darkness. - -But hush! the Abbe Gelon is finishing in a quivering and fatigued voice. -His right hand traces in the air the sign of peace. Then he wipes his -humid forehead, his eyes sparkle with divine light, he descends the -narrow stairs, and we hear on the pavement the regular taps of the rod -of the verger, who is reconducting him to the vestry. - -“Was he not splendid, dear?” - -“Excellent! when he said, ‘That my eyes might close forever, if...’ -you remember?” - -“Superb! and further on: ‘Yes, ladies, you are coquettes.’ He told us -some hard truths; he speaks admirably.” - -“Admirably! He is divine!” - -It is four o’clock, the church is plunged in shadow and silence. The -confused rumble of the vehicles without hardly penetrates this dwelling -of prayer, and the creak of one’s boots, echoing in the distance, is the -only human noise which ruffles the deep calm. - -However, in proportion as we advance, we perceive in the chapels groups -of the faithful, kneeling, motionless and silent. In viewing the despair -that their attitude appears to express, we are overwhelmed with sadness -and uneasiness. Is it an appeal for the damned? - -The aspects of one of these chapels is peculiar. A hundred or a hundred -and fifty ladies, almost buried in silk and velvet, are crowded devoutly -about the confessional. A sweet scent of violets and vervain permeates -the vicinity, and one halts, in spite of one’s self, in the presence of -this large display of elegance. - -From each of the two cells adjoining the confessional shoot out the -folds of a rebellious skirt, for the penitent, held fast at the waist, -has been able to get only half of her form into the narrow space. -However, her head can be distinguished moving in the shadow, and we can -guess from the contrite movements of her white feather that her forehead -is bowed by reason of remonstrance and repentance. - -Hardly has she concluded her little story when a dozen of her neighbors -rush forward to replace her. This eagerness is quite explicable, for -this chapel is the one in which the Abbe Gelon hears confessions, and I -need not tell you that when the Abbe Gelon confesses it is the same as -if he were preaching--there is a crowd. - -The good Abbe confesses all these ladies, and, with angelic devotion, -remains shut up for hours in this dark, narrow, suffocating box, through -the grating of which two penitents are continually whispering their -sins. - -The dear Abbe! the most likable thing about him is that he is not -long over the business. He knows how to get rid of useless details; he -perceives, with subtle instinct and a sureness of vision that spares -you a thousand embarrassments, the condition of a soul, so that, besides -being a man of intelligence and of the world, he renders the repetition -of those little weaknesses, of which he has whispered the one half to -you, almost agreeable. - -In coming to him with one’s little burden of guilt, one feels somewhat -embarrassed, but while one is hesitating about telling him all, he, with -a discreet and skilful hand, disencumbers one of it rapidly, examines -the contents, smiles or consoles, and the confession is made without -one having uttered a single word; so that after all is over the penitent -exclaims, prostrating one’s self before God, “But, Lord, I was pure, -pure as the lily, and yet how uneasy I was!” - -Even when he assumes the sacerdotal habit and ceases to be a man, and -speaks in the name of God, the tones of his voice, the refinement of his -look, reveal innate distinction and that spotless courtesy which can not -harm even a minister of God, and which one must cultivate on this side -of the Rue du Bac. - -If God wills that there must be a Faubourg St.-Germain in the world--and -it can not be denied that He does--is it not proper that He should give -us a minister who speaks our language and understands our weaknesses? -Nothing is more obvious, and I really do not comprehend some of these -ladies who talk to me about the Abbe Brice. Not that I wish to speak ill -of the good Abbe, for this is neither the time nor the place for it; he -is a holy man, but his sanctity is a little bourgeois and needs polish. - -With him one has to dot one’s i’s; he is dull in perception, or does not -perceive at all. - -Acknowledge a peccadillo, and his brows knit, he must know the hour, the -moment, the antecedents; he examines, he probes, he weighs, and finishes -his thousand questions by being indiscreet and almost improper. Is there -not, even in the holy mission of the priest, a way of being politely -severe, and of acting the gentleman to people well born? - -The Abbe Brice--and there is no reason why I should conceal it--smells -of the stable, which must be prejudicial to him. He is slightly -Republican, too, wears clumsy boots, has awful nails, and when he gets -new gloves, twice a year, his fingers stand out stiff and separate. - -I do not, I would have you remark, deny his admirable virtues; but say -what you like, you will never get a woman of fashion to confide her -“little affairs” to a farmer’s son, and address him as “Father.” Matters -must not be carried the length of absurdity; besides, this Abbe Brice -always smells detestably of snuff. - -He confesses all sorts of people, and you will agree that it is not -pleasant to have one’s maid or one’s cook for one’s visa-vis at the -confessional. - -There is not a woman who understands Christian humility better than -yourself, dear Madame; but all the same you are not accustomed to travel -in an omnibus. You may be told that in heaven you will only be too happy -to call your coachman “Brother,” and to say to Sarah Jane, “Sister,” but -these worthy folk shall have first passed through purgatory, and fire -purifies everything. Again, what is there to assure us that Sarah Jane -will go to heaven, since you yourself, dear Madame, are not so sure of -entering there? - -It is hence quite well understood why the Abbe Gelon’s chapel is -crowded. If a little whispering goes on, it is because they have been -waiting three long hours, and because everybody knows one another. - -All the ladies, you may be sure, are there. - -“Make a little room for me, dear,” whispers a newcomer, edging her way -through trains, kneeling-stools, and chairs. - -“Ah! is that you, dear? Come here. Clementine and Madame de B. are there -in the corner at the cannon’s mouth. You will have to wait two good -hours.” - -“If Madame de B. is there, it does not surprise me. She is -inexhaustible, and there is no other woman who is so long in telling -a thing. Have all these people not had their turn yet? Ah! there is -Ernestine.” (She waves her hand to her quietly.) “That child is an -angel. She acknowledged to me the other day that her conscience troubled -her because, on reading the ‘Passion,’ she could not make up her mind to -kiss the mat.” - -“Ah! charming; but, tell me, do you kiss the mat yourself?” - -“I! no, never in my life; it is so nasty, dear.” - -“You confess to the omission, at least?” - -“Oh! I confess all those little trifles in a lump. I say, ‘Father, I -have erred out of human self-respect.’ I give the total at once.” - -“That is just what I do, and that dear Abbe Gelon discharges the bill.” - -“Seriously, time would fail him if he acted otherwise. But it seems to -me that we are whispering a little too much, dear; let me think over my -little bill.” - -Madame leans upon her praying-stool. Gracefully she removes, without -taking her eyes off the altar, the glove from her right hand, and with -her thumb turns the ring of Ste-Genevieve that serves her as a rosary, -moving her lips the while. Then, with downcast eyes and set lips, she -loosens the fleur-de-lys-engraved clasp of her Book of Hours, and seeks -out the prayers appropriate to her condition. - -She reads with fervency: “‘My God, crushed beneath the burden of my sins -I cast myself at thy feet’--how annoying that it should be so cold to -the feet. With my sore throat, I am sure to have influenza,--‘that -I cast myself at thy feet’--tell me, dear, do you know if the -chapel-keeper has a footwarmer? Nothing is worse than cold feet, and -that Madame de P. sticks there for hours. I am sure she confesses her -friends’ sins along with her own. It is intolerable; I no longer -have any feeling in my right foot; I would pay that woman for her -foot-warmer--‘I bow my head in the dust under the weight of repentance, -and of........’” - -“Ah! Madame de P. has finished; she is as red as the comb of a -turkey-cock.” - -Four ladies rush forward with pious ardor to take her place. - -“Ah! Madame, do not push so, I beg of you.” - -“But I was here before you, Madame.” - -“I beg a thousand pardons, Madame.” - -“You surely have a very strange idea of the respect which is due to this -hallowed spot.” - -“Hush, hush! Profit by the opportunity, Madame; slip through and take -the vacant place. (Whispering.) Do not forget the big one last night, -and the two little ones of this morning.” - - - - -CHAPTER V. MADAME AND HER FRIEND CHAT BY THE FIRESIDE - -Madam--(moving her slender fingers)--It is ruched, ruched, ruched, loves -of ruches, edged all around with blond. - -Her Friend--That is good style, dear. - -Madame--Yes, I think it will be the style, and over this snowlike -foam fall the skirts of blue silk like the bodice; but a lovely blue, -something like--a little less pronounced than skyblue, you know, -like--my husband calls it a subdued blue. - -Her Friend--Splendid. He is very happy in his choice of terms. - -Madame--Is he not? One understands at once--a subdued blue. It describes -it exactly. - -Her Friend--But apropos of this, you know that Ernestine has not -forgiven him his pleasantry of the other evening. - -Madame--How, of my husband? What pleasantry? The other evening when the -Abbe Gelon and the Abbe Brice were there? - -Her Friend--And his son, who was there also. - -Madame--What! the Abbe’s son? (Both break into laughter.) - -Her Friend--But--ha! ha! ha!--what are you saying, ha! ha! you little -goose? - -Madame--I said the Abbe Gelon and the Abbe Brice, and you add, ‘And his -son.’ It is your fault, dear. He must be a choir-boy, that cherub. (More -laughter.) - -Her Friend--(placing her hand over hey mouth)--Be quiet, be quiet; it is -too bad; and in Lent, too! - -Madame--Well, but of whose son are you speaking? - -Her Friend--Of Ernestine’s son, don’t you know, Albert, a picture of -innocence. He heard your husband’s pleasantry, and his mother was vexed. - -Madame--My dear, I really don’t know to what you refer. Please tell me -all about it. - -Hey Friend--Well, on entering the drawing-room, and perceiving the -candelabra lit up, and the two Abbe’s standing at that moment in the -middle of the room, your husband appeared as if looking for something, -and when Ernestine asked him what it was, he said aloud: “I am looking -for the holy-water; please, dear neighbor, excuse me for coming in the -middle of the service.” - -Madame--Is it possible? (Laughing.) The fact is, he can not get out -of it; he has met the two Abbes, twice running, at Ernestine’s. Her -drawing-room is a perfect sacristy. - -Hey Friend (dryly)--A sacristy! How regardless you are getting in your -language since your marriage, dear. - -Madame--Not more than before. I never cared to meet priests elsewhere -than at church. - -Her Friend--Come, you are frivolous, and if I did not know you -better--but do you not like to meet the Abbe Gelon? - -Madame--Ah! the Abbe Gelon, that is quite different. He is charming. - -Her Friend--(briskly)--His manners are so distingue. - -Madame--And respectful. His white hair is such an admirable frame for -his pale face, which is so full of unction. - -Her Friend--Oh! yes, he has unction, and his looks--those sweetly -softened looks! The other day, when he was speaking on the mediation -of Christ, he was divine. At one moment he wiped away a tear; he was no -longer master of his emotions; but he grew calm almost immediately--his -power of self-command is marvellous; then he went on quietly, but the -emotion in turn had overpowered us. It was electrifying. The Countess -de S., who was near me, was bubbling like a spring, under her yellow -bonnet. - -Madame--Ah! yes, I have seen that yellow bonnet. What a sight that -Madame de S. is! - -Her Friend--The truth is, she is always dressed like an applewoman. A -bishopric has been offered these messieurs, I know, on good authority; -my husband had it from De l’Euvre. Well-- - -Madame--(interrupting her)--A bishopric offered to Madame de S. It was -wrong to do so. - -Her Friend--You make fun of everything, my dear; there are, however, -some subjects which should be revered. I tell you that the mitre and -the ring have been offered to the Abby Gelon. Well, he refused them. God -knows, however, that the pastoral ring would well become his hand. - -Madame--Oh! yes, he has a lovely hand. - -Her Friend--He has a white, slender, and aristocratic hand. Perhaps it -is a wrong for us to dwell on these worldly details, but after all his -hand is really beautiful. Do you know (enthusiastically) I find that -the Abbe Gelon compels love of religion? Were you ever present at his -lectures? - -Madame--I was at the first one. I would have gone again on Thursday, but -Madame Savain came to try on my bodice and I had a protracted discussion -with her about the slant of the skirts. - -Her Friend--Ah! the skirts are cut slantingly. - -Madame--Yes, yes, with little cross-bars, which is an idea of my own--I -have not seen it anywhere else; I think it will not look badly. - -Her Friend--Madame Savain told me that you had suppressed the shoulders -of the corsage. - -Madame--Ah! the gossip! Yes, I will have nothing on the shoulders but -a ribbon, a trifle, just enough to fasten a jewel to--I was afraid that -the corsage would look a little bare. Madame Savain had laid on, at -intervals, some ridiculous frippery. I wanted to try something else--my -plan of crossbars, there and then--and I missed the dear Abbe Gelon’s -lecture. He was charming, it seems. - -Her Friend--Oh! charming. He spoke against bad books; there was a large -crowd. He demolished all the horrible opinions of Monsieur Renan. What a -monster that man is! - -Madame--You have read his book? - -Her Friend--Heaven forbid! Don’t you know it is impossible for one to -find anything more--well, it must be very bad ‘Messieurs de l’OEuvre’ -for the Abbe Gelon, in speaking to one of these friends of my husband, -uttered the word---- - -Madame--Well, what word? - -Her Friend--I dare not tell you, for, really, if it is true it would -make one shudder. He said that it was (whispering in her ear) the -Antichrist! It makes one feel aghast, does it not! They sell his -photograph; he has a satanic look. (Looking at the clock.) Half-past -two--I must run away; I have given no orders about dinner. These three -fast-days in the week are to me martyrdom. One must have a little -variety; my husband is very fastidious. If we did not have water-fowl I -should lose my head. How do you get on, dear? - -Madame--Oh! with me it is very simple, provided I do not make my husband -leaner; he eats anything. You know, Augustus is not very much-- - -Her Friend--Not very much! I think that he is much too spare; for, -after all, if we do not in this life impose some privations upon -ourselves--no, that would be too easy. I hope, indeed, that you have a -dispensation? - -Madame--Oh! yes, I am safe as to that. - -Her Friend--I have one, of course, for butter and eggs, as -vice-chancellor of the Association. The Abbe Gelon begged me to accept a -complete dispensation on account of my headaches, but I refused. Yes! I -refused outright. If one makes a compromise with one’s principles--but -then there are people who have no principles. - -Madame--If you mean that to apply to my husband, you are wrong. Augustus -is not a heathen--he has excellent principles. - -Her Friend--Excellent principles! You make my blood boil. But there, I -must go. Well, it is understood, I count upon you for Tuesday; he -will preach upon authority, a magnificent subject, and we may expect -allusions--Ah! I forgot to tell you; I am collecting and I expect your -mite, dear. I take as low a sum as a denier (the twelfth of a penny). -I have an idea of collecting with my little girl on my praying-stool. -Madame de K. collected on Sunday at St. Thomas’s and her baby held the -alms-bag. The little Jesus had an immense success--immense! - -Madame--I must go now. How will you dress? - -Her Friend--Oh! for the present, quite simply and in black; you -understand. - -Madame--Besides, black becomes you so well. - -Her Friend--Yes, everything is for the best; black does not suit me at -all ill. Tuesday, then. But my dear, try to bring your husband, he likes -music so much. - -Madame--Well, I can not promise that. - -Her Fiend--Ah! mon Dieu! they are all like that, these men; they are -strong-minded, and when grace touches them, they look back on their past -life with horror. When my husband speaks of his youth, the tears come -into his eyes. I must tell you; that he has not always been as he is -now; he was a gay boy in his youth, poor fellow. I do not detest a man -because he knows life a little, do you? But I am gossiping and time -passes; I have a call to make yet on Madame W. I do not know whether she -has found her juvenile lead. - -Madame--What for, in Heaven’s name? - -Her Friend--For her evening party. There are to be private theatricals -at her house, but for a pious object, you may be sure, during Lent; it -is so as to have a collection on behalf of the Association. I must fly. -Good-by, dear. - -Madame--Till Tuesday, dear; in full uniform? - -Her Friend--(smiling)--In full uniform. Kind regards to your reprobate. -I like him very much all the same. Good-by. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. A DREAM - -Sleeplessness is almost always to be traced to indigestion. My friend, -Dr. Jacques, is there and he will tell you so. - -Now, on that particular evening, it was last Friday, I had committed the -mistake of eating brill, a fish that positively disagrees with me. - -God grant that the account of the singular dream which ensued may -inspire you with some prudent reflections. - -Be that as it may, this was my dream, in all its extravagance. - -I had, in this dream, the honor to belong, as senior curate, to one -of the most frequented parish churches in Paris. What could be more -ridiculous! I was, moreover, respectably stout, possessed a head decked -with silver locks, well-shaped hands, an aquiline nose, great unction, -the friendship of the lady worshippers, and, I venture to add, the -esteem of the rector. - -While I was reciting the thanksgiving after service, and at the same -time unfastening the cords of my alb, the rector came up to me (I see -him even now) blowing his nose. - -“My dear friend,” said he, “you hear confessions this evening, do you -not?” - -“Most certainly. Are you well this morning? I had a good congregation at -mass.” - -Having said this, I finished my thanksgiving, put my alb into the -wardrobe, and, offering a pinch to the rector, added cheerily: - -“This is not breaking the fast, is it?” - -“Ha! ha! no, no, no! Besides, it wants five minutes to twelve and the -clock is slow.” - -We took a pinch together and walked off arm in arm by the little side -door, for night sacraments, chatting in a friendly way. - -Suddenly I found myself transported into my confessional. The chapel was -full of ladies who all bowed at my approach. I entered my narrow box, -the key of which I had. I arranged on the seat the air-cushion which is -indispensable to me on the evenings preceding great church festivals, -the sittings at that season being always prolonged. I slipped the -white surplice which was hanging from a peg over my cassock, and, after -meditating for a moment, opened the little shutter that puts me in -communication with the penitents. - -I will not undertake to describe to you one by one the different people -who came and knelt before me. I will not tell you, for instance, how one -of them, a lady in black, with a straight nose, thin lips, and sallow -complexion, after reciting her Confiteor in Latin, touched me infinitely -by the absolute confidence she placed in me, though I was not of her -sex. In five minutes she found the opportunity to speak to me of her -sister-in-law, her brother, an uncle who was on the point of death whose -heiress she was, her nephews, and her servants; and I could perceive, -despite the tender benevolence that appeared in all her words, that she -was the victim of all these people. She ended by informing me she had -a marriageable daughter, and that her stomach was an obstacle to her -fasting. - -I can still see a throng of other penitents, but it would take too -long to tell you about them, and we will confine ourselves, with your -permission, to the last two, who, besides, impressed upon my memory -themselves particularly. - -A highly adorned little lady rushed into the confessional; she was -brisk, rosy, fresh. Despite her expression of deep thoughtfulness, -she spoke very quickly in a musical voice, and rattled through her -Confiteor, regardless of the sense. - -“Father,” she said, “I have one thing that is troubling me.” - -“Speak, my child; you know that a confessor is a father.” - -“Well, father--but I really dare not.” - -There are many of these timid little hearts that require to be -encouraged. I said, “Go on, my child, go on.” - -“My husband,” she murmured confusedly, “will not abstain during Lent. -Ought I to compel him, father?” - -“Yes, by persuasion.” - -“But he says that he will go and dine at the restaurant if I do not let -him have any meat. Oh! I suffer terribly from that. Am I not assuming -the responsibility of all that meat, father?” - -This young wife really interested me; she had in the midst of one cheek, -toward the corner of the mouth, a small hollow, a kind of little -dimple, charming in the profane sense of the word, and giving a special -expression to her face. Her tiny white teeth glittered like pearls when -she opened her mouth to relate her pious inquietudes; she shed around, -besides, a perfume almost as sweet as that of our altars, although of a -different kind, and I breathed this perfume with an uneasiness full of -scruples, which for all that inclined me to indulgence. I was so -close to her that none of the details of her face escaped me; I could -distinguish, almost in spite of myself, even a little quiver of her left -eyebrow, tickled every now and again by a stray tress of her fair hair. - -“Your situation,” I said, “is a delicate one; on one hand, your domestic -happiness, and on the other your duty as a Christian.” She gave a sigh -from her very heart. “Well, my dear child, my age warrants my speaking -to you like that, does it not?” - -“Oh, yes, father.” - -“Well, my dear child”--I fancy I noticed at that moment that she had -at the outer corner of her eyes a kind of dark mark something like an -arrow-head--“try, my dear child, to convince your husband, who in his -heart--” In addition, her lashes, very long and somewhat curled, were -underlined, I might almost say, by a dark streak expanding and shading -off delicately toward the middle of the eye. This physical peculiarity -did not seem to me natural, but an effect of premeditated coquetry. - -Strange fact, the verification of such weakness in this candid heart -only increased my compassion. I continued in a gentle tone: - -“Strive to bring your husband to God. Abstinence is not only a religious -observance, it is also a salutary custom. ‘Non solum lex Dei, sed -etiam’. Have you done everything to bring back your husband?” - -“Yes, father, everything.” - -“Be precise, my child; I must know all.” - -“Well, father, I have tried sweetness and tenderness.” - -I thought to myself that this husband must be a wretch. - -“I have implored him for the sake of our child,” continued the little -angel, “not to risk his salvation and my own. Once or twice I even -told him that the spinach was dressed with gravy when it was not. Was I -wrong, father?” - -“There are pious falsehoods which the Church excuses, for in such cases -it only takes into consideration the intention and the greater glory of -God. I can not, therefore, say that you have done wrong. You have not, -have you, been guilty toward your husband of any of those excusable -acts of violence which may escape a Christian soul when it is struggling -against error? For it really is not natural that an honest man should -refuse to follow the prescription of the Church. Make a few concessions -at first.” - -“I have, father, and perhaps too many,” she said, contritely. - -“What do you mean?” - -“Hoping to bring him back to God, I accorded him favors which I ought -to have refused him. I may be wrong, but it seems to me that I ought to -have refused him.” - -“Do not be alarmed, my dear child, everything depends upon degrees, and -it is necessary in these matters to make delicate distinctions.” - -“That is what I say to myself, father, but my husband unites with his -kindness such a communicative gayety--he has such a graceful and natural -way of excusing his impiety--that I laugh in spite of myself when I -ought to weep. It seems to me that a cloud comes between myself and my -duties, and my scruples evaporate beneath the charm of his presence and -his wit. My husband has plenty of wit,” she added, with a faint smile, -in which there was a tinge of pride. - -“Hum! hum!” (the blackness of this man’s heart revolted me). “There is -no seductive shape that the tempter does not assume, my child. Wit in -itself is not to be condemned, although the Church shuns it as far as -she is concerned, looking upon it as a worldly ornament; but it may -become dangerous, it may be reckoned a veritable pest when it tends to -weaken faith. Faith, which is to the soul, I hardly need tell you, -what the bloom is to the peach, and--if I may so express myself, what -the--dew is--to the flower--hum, hum! Go on, my child.” - -“But, father, when my husband has disturbed me for a moment, I soon -repent of it. He has hardly gone before I pray for him.” - -“Good, very good.” - -“I have sewn a blessed medal up in his overcoat.” This was said more -boldly, though still with some timidity. - -“And have you noticed any result?” - -“In certain things he is better, yes, father, but as regards abstinence -he is still intractable,” she said with embarrassment. - -“Do not be discouraged. We are in the holy period of Lent. Make use of -pious subterfuges, prepare him some admissible viands, but pleasant to -the taste.” - -“Yes, father, I have thought of that. The day before yesterday I gave -him one of these salmon pasties that resemble ham.” - -“Yes, yes, I know them. Well?” - -“Well, he ate the salmon, but he had a cutlet cooked afterward.” - -“Deplorable!” I exclaimed, almost in spite of myself, so excessive did -the perversity of this man seem to me. “Patience, my child, offer up -to Heaven the sufferings which your husband’s impiety causes you, and -remember that your efforts will be set down to you. You have nothing -more to tell me?” - -“No, father.” - -“Collect yourself, then. I will give you absolution.” - -The dear soul sighed as she joined her two little hands. - -Hardly had my penitent risen to withdraw when I abruptly closed my -little shutter and took a long pinch of snuff--snuff-takers know how -much a pinch soothes the mind--then having thanked God rapidly, I drew -from the pocket of my cassock my good old watch, and found that it was -earlier than I thought. The darkness of the chapel had deceived me, and -my stomach had shared my error. I was hungry. I banished these carnal -preoccupations from my mind, and after shaking my hands, on which -some grains of snuff had fallen, I slackened one of my braces that was -pressing a little on one shoulder, and opened my wicket. - -“Well, Madame, people should be more careful,” said the penitent on my -left, addressing a lady of whom I could only see a bonnet-ribbon; “it is -excusable.” - -My penitent’s voice, which was very irritated, though restrained by -respect for the locality, softened as if by magic at the creaking of my -wicket. She knelt down, piously folded her two ungloved hands, plump, -perfumed, rosy, laden with rings--but let that pass. I seemed to -recognize the hands of the Countess de B., a chosen soul, whom I had the -honor to visit frequently, especially on Saturday, when there is always -a place laid for me at her table. - -She raised her little lace veil and I saw that I was not mistaken. It -was the Countess. She smiled at me as at a person with whom she was -acquainted, but with perfect propriety; she seemed to be saying, -“Good-day, my dear Abbe, I do not ask how your rheumatism is, because -at this moment you are invested with a sacred character, but I am -interested in it all the same.” - -This little smile was irreproachable. I replied by a similar smile, and -I murmured in a very low tone, giving her, too, to understand by the -expression of my face that I was making a unique concession in her -favor, “Are you quite well, dear Madame?” - -“Thanks, father, I am quite well.” Her voice had resumed an angelic -tone. “But I have just been in a passion.” - -“And why? Perhaps you have taken for a passion what was really only a -passing moment of temper?” - -It does not do to alarm penitents. - -“Ah! not at all, it was really a passion, father. My dress had just been -torn from top to bottom; and really it is strange that one should be -exposed to such mishaps on approaching the tribunal of----” - -“Collect yourself, my dear Madame, collect yourself,” and assuming a -serious look I bestowed my benediction upon her. - -The Countess sought to collect herself, but I saw very well that -her troubled spirit vainly strove to recover itself. By a singular -phenomenon I could see into her brain, and her thoughts appeared to me -one after the other. She was saying to herself, “Let me collect myself; -our Father, give me grace to collect myself,” but the more effort -she made to restrain her imagination the more it became difficult -to restrain and slipped through her fingers. “I had made a serious -examination of my conscience, however,” she added. “Not ten minutes ago -as I was getting out of my carriage I counted up three sins; there was -one above all I wished to mention. How these little things escape me! I -must have left them in the carriage.” And she could not help smiling to -herself at the idea of these three little sins lost among the cushions. -“And the poor Abbe waiting for me in his box. How hot it must be in -there! he is quite red. Good Heavens! how shall I begin? I can not -invent faults? It is that torn dress which has upset me. And there is -Louise, who is to meet me at five o’clock at the dressmaker’s. It is -impossible for me to collect myself. O God, do not turn away your face -from me, and you, Lord, who can read in my soul--Louise will wait till a -quarter past five; besides, the bodice fits--there is only the skirt to -try on. And to think that I had three sins only a minute ago.” - -All these different thoughts, pious and profane, were struggling -together at once in the Countess’s brain, so that I thought the moment -had come to interfere and help her a little. - -“Come,” I said, in a paternal voice, leaning forward benevolently and -twisting my snuff-box in my fingers. “Come, my dear Madame, and speak -fearlessly; have you nothing to reproach yourself with? Have you had no -impulses of--worldly coquetry, no wish to dazzle at the expense of your -neighbor?” - -I had a vague idea that I should not be contradicted. - -“Yes, father,” she said, smoothing down her bonnet strings, “sometimes; -but I have always made an effort to drive away such thoughts.” - -“That good intention in some degree excuses you, but reflect and see how -empty are these little triumphs of vanity, how unworthy of a truly poor -soul and how they draw it aside from salvation. I know that there are -certain social exigencies--society. Yes, yes, but after all one can even -in those pleasures which the Church tolerates--I say tolerates--bring -to bear that perfume of good-will toward one’s neighbor of which the -Scriptures speak, and which is the appanage--in some degree... the -glorious appanage. Yes, yes, go on.” - -“Father, I have not been able to resist certain temptations to -gluttony.” - -“Again, again! Begin with yourself. You are here at the tribunal of -penitence; well, promise God to struggle energetically against these -little carnal temptations, which are not in themselves serious sins--oh! -no, I know it--but, after all, these constant solicitations prove a -persistent attachment--displeasing to Him--to the fugitive and deceitful -delights of this world. Hum, hum! and has this gluttony shown itself -by more blameworthy actions than usual--is it simply the same as last -month?” - -“The same as last month, father.” - -“Yes, yes, pastry between meals,” I sighed gravely. - -“Yes, father, and almost always a glass of Capri or of Syracuse after -it.” - -“Or of Syracuse after it. Well, let that pass, let that pass.” - -I fancied that the mention of this pastry and those choice wines was -becoming a source of straying thoughts on my part, for which I mentally -asked forgiveness of heaven. - -“What else do you recall?” I asked, passing my hand over my face. - -“Nothing else, father; I do not recollect anything else.” - -“Well let a sincere repentance spring up in your heart for the sins you -have just admitted, and for those which you may have forgotten; commune -with yourself, humble yourself in the presence of the great act you have -just accomplished. I will give you absolution. Go in peace.” - -The Countess rose, smiled at me with discreet courtesy, and, resuming -her ordinary voice, said in a low tone, “Till Saturday evening, then?” - -I bowed as a sign of assent, but felt rather embarrassed on account of -my sacred character. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. AN EMBASSY BALL - -“Don’t say that it is not pretty,” added my aunt, brushing the firedog -with the tip of her tiny boot. “It lends an especial charm to the look, -I must acknowledge. A cloud of powder is most becoming, a touch of rouge -has a charming effect, and even that blue shadow that they spread, I -don’t know how, under the eye. What coquettes some women are! Did -you notice Anna’s eyes at Madame de Sieurac’s last Thursday? Is it -allowable? Frankly, can you understand how any one can dare?” - -“Well, aunt, I did not object to those eyes, and between ourselves they -had a softness.” - -“I do not deny that, they had a softness.” - -“And at the same time such a strange brilliancy beneath that half -shadow, an expression of such delicious languor.” - -“Yes, certainly, but, after all, it is making an exhibition of one’s -self. But for that--it is very pretty sometimes--I have seen in the Bois -charming creatures under their red, their black, and their blue, for -they put on blue too, God forgive me!” - -“Yes, aunt, Polish blue; it is put on with a stump; it is for the -veins.” - -With interest: “They imitate veins! It is shocking, upon my word. But -you seem to know all about it?” - -“Oh, I have played so often in private theatricals; I have even quite -a collection of little pots of color, hare’s-feet stumps, pencils, et -cetera.” - -“Ah! you have, you rascal! Are you going to the fancy ball at the -Embassy to-morrow?” - -“Yes, aunt; and you, are you going in character?” - -“One must, since every one else will. They say the effect will be -splendid.” After a silence: “I shall wear powder; do you think it will -suit me?” - -“Better than any one, my dear aunt; you will look adorable, I feel -certain.” - -“We shall see, you little courtier.” - -She rose, gave me her hand to kiss with an air of exquisite grace, and -seemed about to withdraw, then, seemingly changing her mind: - -“Since you are going to the Embassy to-morrow, Ernest, call for me; I -will give you a seat in the carriage. You can give me your opinion on my -costume, and then,” she broke into a laugh, and taking me by the hand, -added in my ear: “Bring your little pots and come early. This is between -ourselves.” She put her finger to her lip as a signal for discretion. -“Till tomorrow, then.” - -The following evening my aunt’s bedroom presented a spectacle of most -wild disorder. - -Her maid and the dressmaker, with haggard eyes, for they had been up all -night, were both on their knees, rummaging amidst the bows of satin, and -feverishly sticking in pins. - -“How late you are,” said my aunt to me. “Do you know that it is eleven -o’clock? and we have,” she continued, showing her white teeth, “a great -many things to do yet. The horses have been put to this last hour. I -am sure they will take cold in that icy courtyard.” As she spoke she -stretched out her foot, shod with a red-heeled slipper, glittering with -gold embroidery. Her plump foot seemed to overflow the side of the shoe -a trifle, and through the openwork of her bright silk stocking the rosy -skin of her ankle showed at intervals. - -“What do you think of me, Monsieur Artist?” - -“But, Countess, my dear aunt, I mean, I--I am dazzled by this July sun, -the brightest of all the year, you know. You are adorable, adorable--and -your hair!” - -“Is it not well arranged? Silvani did it; he has not his equal, that -man. The diamonds in the hair go splendidly, and then this lofty style -of head-dressing gives a majestic turn to the neck. I do not know -whether you are aware that I have always been a coquette as regards -my neck; it is my only bit of vanity. Have you brought your little -color-pots?” - -“Yes, aunt, I have the whole apparatus, and if you will sit down--” - -“I am frightfully pale-just a little, Ernest; you know what I told you,” - and she turned her head, presenting her right eye to me. I can still see -that eye. - -I do not know what strange perfume, foreign to aunts in general, rose -from her garments. - -“You understand, my dear boy, that it is only an occasion like the -present, and the necessities of a historical costume, that make me -consent to paint like this.” - -“My dear little aunt, if you move, my hand will shake.” And, indeed, in -touching her long lashes, my hand trembled. - -“Ah! yes, in the corner, a little--you are right, it gives a softness, -a vagueness, a--it is very funny, that little pot of blue. How ugly it -must be! How things lead on one to another! Once one’s hair is powdered, -one must have a little pearl powder on one’s face in order not to look -as yellow as an orange; and one’s cheeks once whitened, one can’t--you -are tickling me with your brush--one can’t remain like a miller, so a -touch of rouge is inevitable. And then--see how wicked it is--if, after -all that, one does not enlarge the eyes a bit, they look as if they had -been bored with a gimlet, don’t they? It is like this that one goes on -little by little, till one comes to the gallows.” - -My aunt began to laugh freely, as she studied her face. - -“Ah! that is very effective what you have just done--well under the -eye, that’s it. What animation it gives to the look! How clever those -creatures are, how well they know everything that becomes one! It is -shameful, for with them it is a trick, nothing more. Oh! you may put on -a little more of that blue of yours, I see what it does now. It has a -very good effect. How you are arching the eyebrows. Don’t you think it -is a little too black? You know I should not like to look as if--you are -right, though. Where did you learn all that? You might earn a deal of -money, do you know, if you set up a practice.” - -“Well, aunt, are you satisfied?” - -My aunt held her hand-glass at a distance, brought it near, held it -away again, smiled, and, leaning back in her chair, said: “It must be -acknowledged that it is charming, this. What do your friends call it?” - -“Make-up, aunt.” - -“It is vexatious that it has not another name, for really I shall have -recourse to it for the evening--from time to time. It is certain that it -is attractive. Haven’t you a little box for the lips?” - -“Here it is.” - -“Ah! in a bottle, it is liquid.” - -“It is a kind of vinegar, as you see. Don’t move, aunt. Put out your -lips as if you wished to kiss me. You don’t by chance want to?” - -“Yes, and you deserve it. You will teach me your little accomplishments, -will you not?” - -“Willingly, aunt.” - -“Your vinegar is miraculous! what brightness it gives to the lips, and -how white one’s teeth look. It is true my teeth were always--” - -“Another of your bits of vanity.” - -“It is done, then. Thank you.” She smiled at me mincingly, for the -vinegar stung her lips a little. - -With her moistened finger she took a patch which she placed with -charming coquetry under her eye, and another which she placed near the -corner of her mouth, and then, radiant and adorable, exclaimed: “Hide -away your little color-pots; I hear your uncle coming for me. Clasp my -bracelets for me. Midnight! O my poor horses!” - -At that moment my uncle entered in silk shorts and a domino. - -“I hope I do not intrude,” said he, gayly, on seeing me. - -“What nonsense!” said my aunt, turning toward him. “Ernest is going -to the Embassy, like ourselves, and I have offered him a seat in the -carriage.” - -At the aspect of my aunt, my uncle, dazzled, held out his gloved hand -to her, saying, “You are enchanting this evening, my dear.” Then, with a -sly smile, “Your complexion has a fine brightness, and your eyes have a -wonderful brilliancy.” - -“Oh, it is the fire they have been making up--it is stifling here. But -you, my dear, you look splendid; I have never seen your beard so black.” - -“It is because I am so pale--I am frozen. Jean forgot to look after my -fire at all, and it went out. Are you ready?” - -My aunt smiled in turn as she took up her fan. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. MY AUNT AS VENUS - -Since that day when I kissed Madame de B. right on the centre of the -neck, as she held out her forehead to me, there has crept into our -intercourse an indescribable, coquettish coolness, which is nevertheless -by no means unpleasant. The matter of the kiss has never been completely -explained. It happened just as I left Saint-Cyr. I was full of ardor, -and the cravings of my heart sometimes blinded me. I say that they -sometimes blinded me; I repeat, blinded me, and this is true, for really -I must have been possessed to have kissed my aunt on the neck as I did -that day. But let that pass. - -It was not that she was hardly worth it; my little auntie, as I used -to call her then, was the prettiest woman in the world--coquettish, -elegant; and what a foot! and, above all, that delightful little--I -don’t know what--which is so fashionable now, and which tempts one -always to say too much. - -When I say that I must have been possessed, it is because I think of the -consequences to which that kiss might have led. Her husband, General de -B., being my direct superior, it might have got me into a very awkward -position; besides, there is the respect due to one’s family. Oh, I have -never failed in that. - -But I do not know why I am recalling all these old recollections, -which have nothing in common with what I am about to relate to you. My -intention was simply to tell you that since my return from Mexico I go -pretty frequently to Madame de B.’s, as perhaps you do also, for she -keeps up a rather good establishment, receives every Monday evening, -and there is usually a crowd of people at her house, for she is very -entertaining. There is no form of amusement that she does not resort to -in order to keep up her reputation as a woman of fashion. I must own, -however, that I had never seen anything at her house to equal what I saw -last Monday. - -I was in the ante-room, where the footman was helping me off with my -top-coat, when Jean, approaching me with a suspicion of mystery, said: -“My mistress expects to see you immediately, Monsieur, in her bedroom. -If you will walk along the passage and knock at the door at the end, you -will find her.” - -When one has just returned from the other side of the world, such words -sound queer. The old affair of the kiss recurred to me in spite of -myself. What could my aunt want with me? - -I tapped quietly at the door, and heard at once an outburst of stifled -laughter. - -“Wait a moment,” exclaimed a laughing voice. - -“I won’t be seen in this state,” whispered another--“Yes”--“No”--“You -are absurd, my dear, since it is an affair of art.”--“Ha, ha, ha.” And -they laughed and laughed again. - -At last a voice cried, “Come in,” and I turned the handle. - -At first glance I could only make out a confused chaos, impossible -to describe, amidst which my aunt was bustling about clad in pink -fleshings. Clad, did I say?--very airily. - -The furniture, the carpet, the mantel-piece were encumbered, almost -buried under a heterogeneous mass of things. Muslin petticoats, tossed -down haphazard, pieces of lace, a cardboard helmet covered with gilt -paper, open jewel-cases, bows of ribbon; curling-tongs, half hidden in -the ashes; and on every side little pots, paint-brushes, odds and ends -of all kinds. Behind two screens, which ran across the room, I could -hear whisperings, and the buzzing sound peculiar to women dressing -themselves. In one corner Silvani--the illustrious Silvani, still -wearing the large white apron he assumes when powdering his clients--was -putting away his powder-puff and turning down his sleeves with a -satisfied air. I stood petrified. What was going on at my aunt’s? - -She discovered my astonishment, and without turning round she said in -agitated tones: - -“Ah! is it you, Ernest?” Then as if making up her mind, she broke into a -hearty burst of laughter, like all women who have good teeth, and -added, with a slightly superior air, “You see, we are having private -theatricals.” - -Then turning toward me with her elegant coiffure powdered to excess, -I could see that her face was painted like that of a priestess of -antiquity. That gauze, that atmosphere, redolent with feminine perfumes, -and behind those screens-behind those screens! - -“Women in society,” I said to myself, looking about me, “must be mad to -amuse themselves in this fashion.” - -“And what piece are you going to play, aunt, in such an attractive -costume?” - -“Good evening, Captain,” called out a laughing voice from behind the -screen on the right. - -“We were expecting you,” came from behind the screen on the left. - -“Good evening, ladies; what can I do for you?” - -“It is not a play,” observed my aunt, modestly drawing together her -sea-weed draperies. “How behind the age you are, to think that any one -plays set-pieces nowadays. It is not a piece, it is a ‘tableau vivant’, -‘The judgment of Paris.’ You know ‘The Judgment of Paris’? I take the -part of Venus--I did not want to, but they all urged me--give me a -pin--on the mantelpiece--near the bag of bonbons--there to the left, -next to the jewel-case--close by the bottle of gum standing on my -prayer-book. Can’t you see? Ah! at last. In short, the knife to my -throat to compel me to play Venus.” - -Turning to the screen on the right she said: “Pass me the red for the -lips, dear; mine are too pale.” To the hairdresser, who is making his -way to the door: “Silvani, go to the gentlemen who are dressing in the -billiard-room, and in the Baron’s dressing-room, they perhaps may need -you. Madame de S. and her daughters are in the boudoir--ah! see whether -Monsieur de V. has found his apple again--he plays Paris,” added my -aunt, turning toward me once more; “the apple must not be lost--well, -dear, and that red for the lips I asked you for? Pass it to the Captain -over the screen.” - -“Here it is; but make haste, Captain, my cuirass cracks as soon as I -raise my arm.” - -I descried above the screen two slender fingers, one of which, covered -with glittering rings, held in the air a little pot without a cover. - -“What,--is your cuirass cracking, Marchioness?” - -“Oh! it will do, but make haste and take it, Captain.” - -“You may think it strange, but I tremble like a leaf,” exclaimed my -aunt. “I am afraid of being ill. Do you hear the gentlemen who are -dressing in there in the Baron’s dressing room? What a noise! Ha! ha! -ha! it is charming, a regular gang of strollers. It is exhilarating, do -you know, this feverish existence, this life in front of the footlights. -But, for the love of Heaven, shut the door, Marie, there is a frightful -draught blowing on me. This hourly struggle with the public, the hisses, -the applause, would, with my impressionable nature, drive me mad, I am -sure.” - -The old affair of the kiss recurred to me and I said to myself, -“Captain, you misunderstood the nature of your relative.” - -“But that is not the question at all,” continued my aunt; “ten o’clock -is striking. Ernest, can you apply liquid white? As you are rather -experienced--” - -“Rather--ha! ha! ha!” said some one behind the screen. - -“On the whole,” continued the Baroness, “it would be very singular -if, in the course of your campaigns, you had never seen liquid white -applied.” - -“Yes, aunt, I have some ideas; yes, I have some ideas about liquid -white, and by summoning together all my recollections--” - -“Is it true, Captain, that it causes rheumatism?” - -“No, not at all; have a couple of logs put on the fire and give me the -stuff.” - -So saying, I turned up my sleeves and poured some of the “Milk of -Beauty” into a little onyx bowl that was at hand, then I dipped a little -sponge into it, and approached my Aunt Venus with a smile. - -“You are sure that it has no effect on the skin--no, I really dare not.” - As she said this she looked as prim as a vestal. “It is the first time, -do you know, that I ever used this liquid white, ah! ah! ah! What a baby -I am! I am all in a shiver.” - -“But, my dear, you are foolish,” exclaimed the lady of the screen, -breaking into a laugh; “when one acts one must submit to the exigencies -of the footlights.” - -“You hear, aunt? Come, give me your arm.” - -She held out her full, round arm, on the surface of which was spread -that light and charming down, symbol of maturity. I applied the wet -sponge. - -“Oh! oh! oh!” exclaimed the Baroness; “it is like ice, a regular -shower-bath, and you want to put that all over me?” - -Just then there was a knock at the door which led out of the Baron’s -dressing-room, and instinctively I turned toward it. - -“Who’s there? Oh! you are letting it splutter all over me!” exclaimed -the Baroness. “You can’t come in; what is it?” - -“What is the matter, aunt?” - -“You can’t come in,” exclaimed some one behind the screen; “my cuirass -has split. Marie, Rosine, a needle and thread, the gum.” - -“Oh! there is a stream all down my back, your horrid white is running -down,” said the Baroness, in a rage. - -“I will wipe it. I am really very sorry.” - -“Can you get your hand down my back, do you think?” - -“Why not, aunt?” - -“Why not, why not! Because where there is room for a drop of water, -there is not room for the hand of a lancer.” - -Another knock, this time at the door opening from the passage. - -“What is it now?” - -“The torches have come, Madame,” said a footman. “Will you have them -lighted?” - -“Ah! the torches of Mesdemoiselles de N., who are dressing in the -boudoir. No, certainly not, do not light them, they are not wanted till -the second tableau.” - -“Do not stir, aunt, I beg of you. Mesdemoiselles de N. appears too, -then?” - -“Yes, with their mamma; they represent ‘The Lights of Faith driving out -Unbelief,’ thus they naturally require torches. You know, they are tin -tubes with spirits of wine which blazes up. It will be, perhaps, the -prettiest tableau of the evening. It is an indirect compliment we wish -to pay to the Cardinal’s nephew; you know the dark young man with very -curly hair and saintly eyes; you saw him last Monday. He is in high -favor at court. The Comte de Geloni was kind enough to promise to -come this evening, and then Monsieur de Saint P. had the idea of this -tableau. His imagination is boundless, Monsieur de Saint P., not to -mention his good taste, if he would not break his properties.” - -“Is he not also a Chevalier of the Order of Saint Gregory?” - -“Yes, and, between ourselves, I think that he would not be sorry to -become an officer in it.” - -“Ah! I understand, ‘The Lights of Faith driving out,’ et cetera. But -tell me, aunt, am I not brushing you too hard? Lift up your arm a -little, please. Tell me who has undertaken the part of Unbelief?” - -“Don’t speak of it, it is quite a history. As it happened, the casting -of the parts took place the very evening on which his Holiness’s -Encyclical was published, so that the gentlemen were somewhat excited. -Monsieur de Saint P. took high ground, really very high ground; indeed, -I thought for a moment that the General was going to flare out. In -short, no one would have anything to do with Unbelief, and we had to -have recourse to the General’s coachman, John--you know him? He is a -good-looking fellow; he is a Protestant, moreover, so that the part is -not a novel one to him.” - -“No matter, it will be disagreeable for the De N.’s to appear side by -side with a servant.” - -“Come! such scruples must not be carried too far; he is smeared over -with black and lies stretched on his face, while the three ladies -trample on him, so you see that social proprieties are observed after -all. Come, have you done yet? My hair is rather a success, is it not? -Silvani is the only man who understands how to powder one. He wanted -to dye it red, but I prefer to wait till red hair has found its way a -little more into society.” - -“There; it is finished, aunt. Is it long before you have to go on?” - -“No. Good Heavens, it is close on eleven o’clock! The thought of -appearing before all these people--don’t the flowers drooping from my -head make my neck appear rather awkward, Ernest? Will you push them up a -little?” - -Then going to the door of the dressing-room she tapped at it gently, -saying, “Are you ready, Monsieur de V.?” - -“Yes, Baroness, I have found my apple, but I am horribly nervous. Are -Minerva and Juno dressed? Oh! I am nervous to a degree you have no idea -of.” - -“Yes, yes, every one is ready; send word to the company in the -drawing-room. My poor heart throbs like to burst, Captain.” - - - - -CHAPTER IX. HUSBAND AND WIFE MY DEAR SISTERS: - -Marriage, as it is now understood, is not exactly conducive to love. In -this I do not think that I am stating an anomaly. Love in marriage is, -as a rule, too much at his ease; he stretches himself with too -great listlessness in armchairs too well cushioned. He assumes the -unconstrained habits of dressing-gown and slippers; his digestion goes -wrong, his appetite fails and of an evening, in the too-relaxing warmth -of a nest, made for him, he yawns over his newspaper, goes to sleep, -snores, and pines away. It is all very well, my sisters, to say, “But -not at all--but how can it be, Father Z.?--you know nothing about it, -reverend father.” - -I maintain that things are as I have stated, and that at heart you are -absolutely of my opinion. Yes, your poor heart has suffered very often; -there are nights during which you have wept, poor angel, vainly awaiting -the dream of the evening before. - -“Alas!” you say, “is it then all over? One summer’s day, then thirty -years of autumn, to me, who am so fond of sunshine.” That is what you -have thought. - -But you say nothing, not knowing what you should say. Lacking -self-confidence and ignorant of yourself, you have made it a virtue to -keep silence and not wake your husband while he sleeps; you have got -into the habit of walking on the tips of your toes so as not to disturb -the household, and your husband, in the midst of this refreshing -half-sleep, has begun to yawn luxuriously; then he has gone out to his -club, where he has been received like the prodigal son, while you, poor -poet without pen or ink, have consoled yourself by watching your sisters -follow the same road as yourself. - -You have, all of you, ladies, your pockets full of manuscripts, charming -poems, delightful romances; it is a reader who is lacking to you, -and your husband takes up his hat and stick at the very sight of your -handwriting; he firmly believes that there are no more romances except -those already in print. From having read so many, he considers that no -more can be written. - -This state of things I regard as absolutely detestable. I look upon you, -my dear sisters, as poor victims, and if you will permit I will give you -my opinion on the subject. - -Esteem and friendship between husband and wife are like our daily bread, -very pleasant and respectable; but a little jam would not spoil that, -you will admit! If, therefore, one of your friends complains of the -freedom that reigns in this little book, let her talk on and be sure -beforehand that this friend eats dry bread. We have described marriage -as we think it should be--depicting smiling spouses, delighted to be -together. - -Is it because love is rare as between husband and wife that it is -considered unbecoming to relate its joys? Is it regret, or envy, that -renders you fastidious on the subject, sisters? Reserve your blushes for -the pictures of that society of courtesans where love is an article of -commerce, where kisses are paid for in advance. Regard the relation of -these coarse pleasures as immodest and revolting, be indignant, scold -your brethren--I will admit that you are in the right beforehand; but -for Heaven’s sake do not be offended if we undertake your defence, -when we try to render married life pleasant and attractive, and advise -husbands to love their wives, wives to love their husbands. - -You must understand that there is a truly moral side to all this. To -prove that you are adorable; that there are pleasures, joys, happiness, -to be found outside the society of those young women--such is our -object; and since we are about to describe it, we venture to hope that -after reflecting for a few minutes you will consider our intentions -praiseworthy, and encourage us to persevere in them. - -I do not know why mankind has chosen to call marriage a man-trap, and -all sorts of frightful things; to stick up all round it boards on which -one reads: “Beware of the sacred ties of marriage;” “Do not jest with -the sacred duties of a husband;” “Meditate on the sacred obligation of -a father of a family;” “Remember that the serious side of life is -beginning;” “No weakness; henceforth you are bound to find yourself face -to face with stern reality,” etc., etc. - -I will not say that it is imprudent to set forth all those fine things; -but when done it should be done with less affectation. To warn people -that there are thorns in the path is all very well; but, hang it! there -is something else in married life, something that renders these duties -delightful, else this sacred position and these ties would soon be -nothing more than insupportable burdens. One would really think that -to take to one’s self a pretty little wife, fresh in heart and pure in -mind, and to condemn one’s self to saw wood for the rest of one’s days, -were one and the same thing. - -Well, my dear sisters, have you any knowledge of those who have painted -the picture in these gloomy colors and described as a punishment that -which should be a reward? They are the husbands with a past and having -rheumatism. Being weary and--how shall I put it?--men of the world, they -choose to represent marriage as an asylum, of which you are to be the -angels. No doubt to be an angel is very nice, but, believe me, it is -either too much or too little. Do not seek to soar so high all at once, -but, instead, enter on a short apprenticeship. It will be time enough to -don the crown of glory when you have no longer hair enough to dress in -any other fashion. - -But, O husbands with a past! do you really believe that your own angelic -quietude and the studied austerity of your principles are taken for -anything else than what they really mean--exhaustion? - -You wish to rest; well and good; but it is wrong in you to wish -everybody else about you to rest too; to ask for withered trees and -faded grass in May, the lamps turned down and the lamp-shades doubled; -to require one to put water in the soup and to refuse one’s self a -glass of claret; to look for virtuous wives to be highly respectable -and somewhat wearisome beings; dressing neatly, but having had neither -poetry, youth, gayety, nor vague desires; ignorant of everything, -undesirous of learning anything; helpless, thanks to the weighty virtues -with which you have crammed them; above all, to ask of these poor -creatures to bless your wisdom, caress your bald forehead, and blush -with shame at the echo of a kiss. - -The deuce! but that is a pretty state of things for marriage to come to. - -Delightful institution! How far are your sons, who are now -five-and-twenty years of age, in the right in being afraid of it! Have -they not a right to say to you, twirling their moustaches: - -“But, my dear father, wait a bit; I am not quite ripe for it!” - -“Yes; but it is a splendid match, and the young lady is charming.” - -“No doubt, but I feel that I should not make her happy. I am not old -enough--indeed, I am not.” - -And when the young man is seasoned for it, how happy she will be, poor -little thing!--a ripe husband, ready to fall from the tree, fit to be -put away in the apple-loft! What happiness! a good husband, who the day -after his marriage will piously place his wife in a niche and light a -taper in front of her; then take his hat and go off to spend elsewhere a -scrap of youth left by chance at the bottom of his pocket. - -Ah! my good little sisters who are so very much shocked and cry “Shame!” - follow our reasoning a little further. It is all very well that you -should be treated like saints, but do not let it be forgotten that you -are women, and, listen to me, do not forget it yourselves. - -A husband, majestic and slightly bald, is a good thing; a young husband -who loves you and eats off the same plate is better. If he rumples your -dress a little, and imprints a kiss, in passing, on the back of your -neck, let him. When, on coming home from a ball, he tears out the pins, -tangles the strings, and laughs like a madman, trying to see whether you -are ticklish, let him. Do not cry “Murder!” if his moustache pricks you, -but think that it is all because at heart he loves you well. He worships -your virtues; is it surprising hence that he should cherish their -outward coverings? No doubt you have a noble soul; but your body is -not therefore to be despised; and when one loves fervently, one loves -everything at the same time. Do not be alarmed if in the evening, when -the fire is burning brightly and you are chatting gayly beside it, he -should take off one of your shoes and stockings, put your foot on his -lap, and in a moment of forgetfulness carry irreverence so far as to -kiss it; if he likes to pass your large tortoise-shell comb through your -hair, if he selects your perfumes, arranges your plaits, and suddenly -exclaims, striking his forehead: “Sit down there, darling; I have an -idea how to arrange a new coiffure.” - -If he turns up his sleeves and by chance tangles your curls, where -really is the harm? Thank Heaven if in the marriage which you have hit -upon you find a laughing, joyous side; if in your husband you find the -loved reader of the pretty romance you have in your pocket; if, while -wearing cashmere shawls and costly jewels in your ears, you find the -joys of a real intimacy--that is delicious! In short, reckon yourself -happy if in your husband you find a lover. - -But before accepting my theories, ladies, although in your heart -and conscience you find them perfect, you will have several little -prejudices to overcome; above all, you will have to struggle against -your education, which is deplorable, as I have already said, but that is -no great matter. Remember that under the pretext of education you have -been stuffed, my dear sisters. You have been varnished too soon, like -those pictures painted for sales, which crack all over six months after -purchase. Your disposition has not been properly directed; you are not -cultivated; you have been stifled, pruned; you have been shaped like -those yew-trees at Versailles which represent goblets and birds. Still, -you are women at the bottom, though you no longer look it. - -You are handed over to us men swaddled, distorted, stuffed with -prejudices and principles, heavy as paving-stones; all of which are the -more difficult to dislodge since you look upon them as sacred; you are -started on the matrimonial journey with so much luggage reckoned as -indispensable; and at the first station your husband, who is not an -angel, loses his temper amidst all these encumbrances, sends it all to -the devil under some pretext or other, lets you go on alone, and gets -into another carriage. I do not require, mark me, that you should be -allowed to grow up uncared for, that good or evil instincts should be -suffered to spring up in you anyhow: but it were better that they should -not treat your poor mind like the foot of a well-born Chinese girl--that -they should not enclose it in a porcelain slipper. - -A marriageable young lady is a product of maternal industry, which takes -ten years to fructify, and needs from five to six more years of study on -the part of the husband to purify, strip, and restore to its real shape. -In other words, it takes ten years to make a bride and six years at -least to turn this bride into a woman again. Admit frankly that this is -time lost as regards happiness, but try to make it up if your husband -will permit you to do so. - -The sole guaranty of fidelity between husband and wife is love. One -remains side by side with a fellow-traveller only so long as one -experiences pleasure and happiness in his company. Laws, decrees, oaths, -may prevent faithlessness, or at least punish it, but they can neither -hinder nor punish intention. But as regards love, intention and deed are -the same. - -Is it not true, my dear sisters, that you are of this opinion? Do -not you thoroughly understand that if love is absent from marriage it -should, on the contrary, be its real pivot? To make one’s self lovable -is the main thing. Believe my white hairs that it is so, and let me give -you some more advice. - -Yes, I favor marriage--I do not conceal it--the happy marriage in which -we cast into the common lot our ideas and our sorrows, as well as -our good-humor and our affections. Suppress, by all means, in this -partnership, gravity and affectation, yet add a sprinkling of gallantry -and good-fellowship. Preserve even in your intimacy that coquetry you -so readily assume in society. Seek to please your husband. Be amiable. -Consider that your husband is an audience, whose sympathy you must -conquer. - -In your manner of loving mark those shades, those feminine delicacies, -which double the price of things. Do not be miserly, but remember that -the manner in which one gives adds to the value of the gift; or rather -do not give--make yourself sought after. Think of those precious jewels -that are arranged with such art in their satin-lined jewel-case; never -forget the case. Let your nest be soft, let your presence be felt in -all its thousand trifles. Put a little of yourself into the ordering of -everything. Be artistic, delicate, and refined--you can do so without -effort--and let your husband perceive in everything that surrounds him, -from the lace on the curtains to the perfume that you use, a wish on -your part to please him. - -Do not say to him, “I love you”; that phrase may perhaps recall to him -a recollection or two. But lead him on to say to you, “You do love me, -then?” and answer “No,” but with a little kiss which means “Yes.” Make -him feel beside you the present to be so pleasant that the past will -fade from his memory; and to this end let nothing about you recall that -past, for, despite himself, he would never forgive it in you. Do not -imitate the women whom he may have known, nor their head-dresses or -toilettes; that would tend to make him believe he has not changed his -manner of life. You have in yourself another kind of grace, another wit, -another coquetry, and above all that rejuvenescence of heart and mind -which those women have never had. You have an eagerness in life, a need -of expansion, a freshness of impression which are--though perhaps you -may not imagine it--irresistible charms. Be yourselves throughout, -and you will be for this loved spouse a novelty, a thousand times more -charming in his eyes than all the bygones possible. Conceal from him -neither your inclinations nor your inexperience, your childish joys or -your childish fears; but be as coquettish with all these as you are of -the features of your face, of your fine, black eyes and your long, fair -hair. - -Nothing is more easily acquired than a little adroitness; do not throw -yourself at his head, and always have confidence in yourself. - -Usually, a man marries when he thinks himself ruined; when he feels in -his waistcoat pocket--not a louis--he is then seasoned; he goes at once -before the registrar. But let me tell you, sisters, he is still rich. -He has another pocket of which he knows nothing, the fool! and which is -full of gold. It is for you to act so that he shall find it out and be -grateful to you for the happiness he has had in finding a fortune. - -I will sum up, at once, as time is flying and I should not like you to -be late for dinner. For Heaven’s sake, ladies, tear from the clutches -of the women, whose toilettes you do very wrong in imitating, your -husbands’ affections. Are you not more refined, more sprightly, than -they? Do for him whom you love that which these women do for all the -world; do not content yourselves with being virtuous--be attractive, -perfume your hair, nurture illusion as a rare plant in a golden -vase. Cultivate a little folly when practicable; put away your -marriage-contract and look at it only once in ten years; love one -another as if you had not sworn to do so; forget that there are bonds, -contracts, pledges; banish from your mind the recollection of the Mayor -and his scarf. Sometimes when you are alone fancy that you are only -sweethearts; sister, is not that what you eagerly desire? - -Ah! let candor and youth flourish. Let us love and laugh while spring -blossoms. Let us love our babies, the little dears, and kiss our wives. -Yes, that is moral and healthy; the world is not a shivering convent, -marriage is not a tomb. Shame on those who find in it only sadness, -boredom, and sleep. - -My sisters, my sisters, strive to be real; that is the blessing I wish -you. - - - - -CHAPTER X. MADAME’S IMPRESSIONS - -The marriage ceremony at the Town Hall has, no doubt, a tolerable -importance; but is it really possible for a well-bred person to regard -this importance seriously? I have been through it; I have undergone like -every one else this painful formality, and I can not look back on it -without feeling a kind of humiliation. On alighting from the carriage I -descried a muddy staircase; walls placarded with bills of every color, -and in front of one of them a man in a snuff-colored coat, bare-headed, -a pen behind his ear, and papers under his arm, who was rolling a -cigarette between his inky fingers. To the left a door opened and I -caught a glimpse of a low dark room in which a dozen fellows belonging -to the National Guard were smoking black pipes. My first thought on -entering this barrack-room was that I had done wisely in not putting on -my gray dress. We ascended the staircase and I saw a long, dirty, dim -passage, with a number of half-glass doors, on which I read: “Burials. -Turn the handle,” “Expropriations,” “Deaths. Knock loudly,” “Inquiries,” - “Births,” “Public Health,” etc., and at length “Marriages.” - -We entered in company with a small lad who was carrying a bottle of -ink; the atmosphere was thick, heavy, and hot, and made one feel ill. -Happily, an attendant in a blue livery, resembling in appearance the -soldiers I had seen below, stepped forward to ask us to excuse him for -not having at once ushered us into the Mayor’s drawing-room, which is no -other than the first-class waiting-room. I darted into it as one jumps -into a cab when it begins to rain suddenly. Almost immediately two -serious persons, one of whom greatly resembled the old cashier at the -Petit-Saint-Thomas, brought in two registers, and, opening them, wrote -for some time; only stopping occasionally to ask the name, age, -and baptismal names of both of us, then, saying to themselves, -“Semi-colon... between the aforesaid... fresh paragraph, etc., etc.” - -When he had done, the one like the man cashier at the Petit-Saint-Thomas -read aloud, through his nose, that which he had put down, and of which I -could understand nothing, except that my name was several times repeated -as well as that of the other “aforesaid.” A pen was handed to us and we -signed. Voila. - -“Is it over?” said I to Georges, who to my great surprise was very pale. - -“Not yet, dear,” said he; “we must now go into the hall, where the -marriage ceremony takes place.” - -We entered a large, empty hall with bare walls; a bust of the Emperor -was at the farther end over a raised platform, some armchairs, and some -benches behind them, and dust upon everything. I must have been in a -wrong mood, for it seemed to me I was entering the waiting-room at a -railway-station; nor could I help looking at my aunts, who were very -merry, over the empty chairs. The gentlemen, who no doubt affected not -to think as we did, were, on the contrary, all very serious, and I could -discern very well that Georges was actually trembling. At length the -Mayor came in by a little door and appeared before us, awkward and podgy -in his dress-coat, which was too large for him, and which his scarf -caused to rise up. He was a very respectable man who had amassed a -decent fortune from the sale of iron bedsteads; yet how could I bring -myself to think that this embarrassed-looking, ill-dressed, timid little -creature could, with a word hesitatingly uttered, unite me in eternal -bonds? Moreover, he had a fatal likeness to my piano-tuner. - -The Mayor, after bowing to us, as a man bows when without his hat, and -in a white cravat, that is to say, clumsily, blew his nose, to the -great relief of his two arms which he did not know what to do with, and -briskly began the little ceremony. He hurriedly mumbled over several -passages of the Code, giving the numbers of the paragraphs; and I was -given confusedly to understand that I was threatened with the police if -I did not blindly obey all the orders and crotchets of my husband, and -if I did not follow wherever he might choose to take me, even if it -should be to a sixth floor in the Rue-Saint-Victor. A score of times -I was on the point of interrupting the Mayor, and saying, “Excuse me, -Monsieur, but those remarks are hardly polite as regards myself, and you -yourself must know that they are devoid of meaning.” - -But I restrained myself for fear I might frighten the magistrate, who -seemed to me to be in a hurry to finish. He added, however, a few words -on the mutual duties of husband and wife--copartnership--paternity, -etc., etc.; but all these things, which would perhaps have made me weep -anywhere else, seemed grotesque to me, and I could not forget that dozen -of soldiers playing piquet round the stove, and that row of doors on -which I had read “Public Health,” “Burials,” “Deaths,” “Expropriations,” - etc. I should have been aggrieved at this dealer in iron bedsteads -touching on my cherished dreams if the comic side of the situation had -not absorbed my whole attention, and if a mad wish to laugh outright had -not seized me. - -“Monsieur Georges--------, do you swear to take for your wife -Mademoiselle-----------,” said the Mayor, bending forward. - -My husband bowed and answered “Yes” in a very low voice. He has since -acknowledged to me that he never felt more emotion in his life than in -uttering that “Yes.” - -“Mademoiselle Berthe--------,” continued the magistrate, turning to me, -“do you swear to take for your husband-----------” - -I bowed, with a smile, and said to myself: “Certainly; that is plain -enough; I came here for that express purpose.” - -That was all. I was married! - -My father and my husband shook hands like men who had not met for twenty -years; the eyes of both were moist. As for myself, it was impossible for -me to share their emotion. I was very hungry, and mamma and I had -the carriage pulled up at the pastry-cook’s before going on to the -dressmaker’s. - -The next morning was the great event, and when I awoke it was hardly -daylight. I opened the door leading into the drawing-room; there my -dress was spread out on the sofa, the veil folded beside it, my shoes, -my wreath in a large white box, nothing was lacking. I drank a glass -of water. I was nervous, uneasy, happy, trembling. It seemed like the -morning of a battle when one is sure of winning a medal. I thought of -neither my past nor my future; I was wholly taken up with the idea of -the ceremony, of that sacrament, the most solemn of all, of the oath -I was about to take before God, and also by the thought of the crowd -gathered expressly to see me pass. - -We breakfasted early. My father was in his boots, his trousers, his -white tie, and his dressing-gown. My mother also was half dressed. It -seemed to me that the servants took greater pains in waiting on me -and showed me more respect. I even remember that Marie said, “The -hairdresser has come, Madame.” Madame! Good girl, I have not forgotten -it. - -It was impossible for me to eat; my throat was parched and I experienced -all over me shudders of impatience, something like the sensation one has -when one is very-thirsty and is waiting for the sugar to melt. The -tones of the organ seemed to haunt me, and the wedding of Emma and Louis -recurred to my mind. I dressed; the hairdresser called me “Madame” too, -and arranged my hair so nicely that I said, I remember, “Things are -beginning well; this coiffure is a good omen.” I stopped Marie, who -wished to lace me tighter than usual. I know that white makes one look -stouter and that Marie was right; but I was afraid lest it should send -the blood to my head. I have always had a horror of brides who looked -as if they had just got up from table. Religious emotions should be too -profound to be expressed by anything save pallor. It is silly to blush -under certain circumstances. - -When I was dressed I entered the drawing-room to have a little more room -and to spread out my trailing skirts. My father and Georges were already -there, talking busily. - -“Have the carriages come?--yes--and about the ‘Salutaris’?--very good, -then, you will see to everything--and the marriage coin--certainly, -I have the ring--Mon Dieu! where is my certificate of confession? Ah! -good, I left it in the carriage.” - -They were saying all this hurriedly and gesticulating like people having -great business on hand. When Georges caught sight of me he kissed my -hand, and while the maids kneeling about me were settling the skirt, and -the hairdresser was clipping the tulle of the veil, he said in a husky -voice, “You look charming, dear.” - -He was not thinking in the least of what he was saying, and I answered -mechanically: - -“Do you think so? Not too short, the veil, Monsieur Silvani. Don’t -forget the bow on the bodice, Marie.” - -When one has to look after everything, one needs all one’s wits. -However, Georges’ husky voice recurred to me, and I said to myself, “I -am sure that he has caught a cold; it is plain that he has had his hair -cut too short.” - -I soon got at the true state of the case. - -“You have a cold, my dear fellow,” said my father. - -“Don’t speak of it,” he answered in a low voice. And still lower, and -with a somewhat embarrassed smile: “Will you be so kind as to give me an -extra pocket-handkerchief? I have but one--” - -“Certainly, my dear boy.” - -“Thanks, very much.” - -It was a trifle, to be sure, but I felt vexed, and I remember that, -when going downstairs with them holding up my train behind me, I said to -myself, “I do hope that he does not sneeze at the altar.” - -I soon forgot all about it. We got into the carriage; I felt that every -one was looking at me, and I caught sight of groups of spectators in the -street beyond the carriage gates. What I felt is impossible to describe, -but it was something delightful. The sound of the beadles’ canes on the -pavement will forever reecho in my heart. We halted for a moment on the -red drugget. The great organ poured forth the full tones of a triumphal -march; thousands of eager faces turned toward me, and there in the -background, amidst an atmosphere of sunshine, incense, velvet, and gold, -were two gilt armchairs for us to seat ourselves on before the altar. - -I do not know why an old engraving in my father’s study crossed my mind. -It represents the entry of Alexander the Great into Babylon; he is on -an elephant which is glittering with precious stones. You must know it. -Only, Alexander was a heathen who had many things to reproach himself -with, while I was not. - -God smiled on me, and with His paternal hand invited me to seat myself -in His house, on His red drugget, in His gilt armchair. The heavens, -full of joy, made music for me, and on high, through the glittering -stained-glass windows, the archangels, full of kind feeling, whispered -as they watched me. As I advanced, heads were bent as a wheat-field -bends beneath the breeze. My friends, my relatives, my enemies, bowed to -us, and I saw--for one sees everything in spite of one’s self on -these solemn occasions--that they did not think that I looked ugly. On -reaching the gilt chair, I bent forward with restrained eagerness--my -chignon was high, revealing my neck, which is passable--and thanked -the Lord. The organ ceased its triumphal song and I could hear my poor -mother bursting into tears beside me. Oh! I understand what a mother’s -heart must feel during such a ceremony. While watching with satisfaction -the clergy who were solemnly advancing, I noticed Georges; he seemed -irritated; he was stiff, upright, his nostrils dilated, and his lips -set. I have always been rather vexed at him for not having been a -little more sensible to what I was experiencing that day, but men do not -understand this kind of poetry. - -The discourse of his Reverence who married us was a masterpiece, and was -delivered, moreover, with that unction, that dignity, that persuasive -charm peculiar to him. He spoke of our two families “in which pious -belief was hereditary, like honor.” You could have heard a pin drop, -such was the attention with which the prelate’s voice was listened to. -Then at one point he turned toward me, and gave me to understand with -a thousand delicacies that I was wedding one of the noblest officers in -the army. “Heaven smiles,” said he, “on the warrior who places at the -service of his country a sword blessed by God, and who, when he darts -into the fray, can place his hand upon his heart and shout to the -enemy that noble war-cry, ‘I believe!’” How well that was turned! What -grandeur in this holy eloquence! A thrill ran through the assembly. But -that was not all. His Lordship then addressed Georges in a voice as soft -and unctuous as it had before been ringing and enthusiastic. - -“Monsieur, you are about to take as your companion a young girl”--I -scarcely dare recall the graceful and delicate things that his Reverence -said respecting me--“piously reared by a Christian mother who has been -able to share with her, if I may say so, all the virtues of her heart, -all the charms of her mind.” (Mamma was sobbing.) “She will love her -husband as she has loved her father, that father full of kindness, -who, from the cradle, implanted in her the sentiments of nobility and -disinterestedness which--” (Papa smiled despite himself.) “Her father, -whose name is known to the poor, and who in the house of God has his -place marked among the elect.” (Since his retirement, papa has become -churchwarden.) “And you, Monsieur, will respect, I feel certain, so much -purity, such ineffable candor”--I felt my eyes grow moist--“and without -forgetting the physical and perishable charms of this angel whom God -bestows upon you, you will thank Heaven for those qualities a thousand -times more precious and more lasting contained in her heart and her -mind.” - -We were bidden to stand up, and stood face to face with one another like -the divine spouses in the picture of Raphael. We exchanged the golden -ring, and his Reverence, in a slow, grave voice, uttered some Latin -words, the sense of which I did not understand, but which greatly moved -me, for the prelate’s hand, white, delicate, and transparent, seemed to -be blessing me. The censer, with its bluish smoke, swung by the hands of -children, shed in the air its holy perfume. What a day, great heavens! -All that subsequently took place grows confused in my memory. I was -dazzled, I was transported. I can remember, however, the bonnet with -white roses in which Louise had decked herself out. Strange it is how -some people are quite wanting in taste! - -Going to the vestry, I leaned on the General’s arm, and it was then that -I saw the spectators’ faces. All seemed touched. - -Soon they thronged round to greet me. The vestry was full, they pushed -and pressed round me, and I replied to all these smiles, to all these -compliments, by a slight bow in which religious emotion peeped forth in -spite of me. I felt conscious that something solemn had just taken place -before God and man; I felt conscious of being linked in eternal bonds. I -was married! - -By a strange fancy I then fell to thinking of the pitiful ceremony of -the day before. I compared--God forgive me for doing so!--the ex-dealer -in iron bedsteads, ill at ease in his dress-coat, to the priest; the -trivial and commonplace words of the mayor, with the eloquent outbursts -of the venerable prelate. What a lesson! There earth, here heaven; there -the coarse prose of the man of business, here celestial poesy. - -Georges, to whom I lately spoke about this, said: - -“But, my dear, perhaps you don’t know that marriage at the Town Hall -before the registrar is gratis, while--” I put my hand over his mouth to -prevent him from finishing; it seemed to me that he was about to utter -some impiety. - -Gratis, gratis. That is exactly what I find so very unseemly. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. A WEDDING NIGHT - -Thanks to country manners and the solemnity of the occasion, the guests -had left fairly early. Almost every one had shaken hands with me, -some with a cunning smile and others with a foolish one, some with an -officious gravity that suggested condolence, and others with a stupid -cordiality verging on indiscretion. - -General de S. and the prefect, two old friends of the family, were -lingering over a game of ecarte, and frankly, in spite of all the -good-will I bore toward them, I should have liked to see them at the -devil, so irritable did I feel that evening. - -All this took place, I had forgotten to tell you, the very day of -my marriage, and I was really rather tired. Since morning I had been -overwhelmed by an average of about two hundred people, all actuated by -the best intentions, but as oppressive as the atmosphere before a storm. -Since morning I had kept up a perpetual smile for all, and then the good -village priest who had married us had thought it his duty, in a very -neat sermon so far as the rest of it went, to compare me to Saint -Joseph, and that sort of thing is annoying when one is Captain in -a lancer regiment. The Mayor, who had been good enough to bring his -register to the chateau, had for his part not been able, on catching -sight of the prefect, to resist the pleasure of crying, “Long live the -Emperor!” On quitting the church they had fired off guns close to my -ears and presented me with an immense bouquet. Finally--I tell you this -between ourselves--since eight o’clock in the morning I had had on a -pair of boots rather too tight for me, and at the moment this narrative -begins it was about half an hour after midnight. - -I had spoken to every one except my dear little wife, whom they seemed -to take pleasure in keeping away from me. Once, however, on ascending -the steps, I had squeezed her hand on the sly. Even then this rash act -had cost me a look, half sharp and half sour, from my mother-in-law, -which had recalled me to a true sense of the situation. If, Monsieur, -you happen to have gone through a similar day of violent effusion and -general expansion, you will agree with me that during no other moment of -your life were you more inclined to irritability. - -What can you say to the cousins who kiss you, to the aunts who cling -round your neck and weep into your waistcoat, to all these smiling faces -ranged one beyond the other before you, to all those eyes which have -been staring at you for twelve hours past, to all those outbursts of -affection which you have not sought, but which claim a word from the -heart in reply? - -At the end of such a day one’s very heart is foundered. You say to -yourself: “Come, is it all over? Is there yet a tear to wipe away, -a compliment to receive, an agitated hand to clasp? Is every one -satisfied? Have they seen enough of the bridegroom? Does any one want -any more of him? Can I at length give a thought to my own happiness, -think of my dear little wife who is waiting for me with her head buried -in the folds of her pillow? Who is waiting for me!” That flashes through -your mind all at once like a train of powder. You had not thought of -it. During the whole of the day this luminous side of the question had -remained veiled, but the hour approaches, at this very moment the silken -laces of her bodice are swishing as they are unloosed; she is blushing, -agitated, and dare not look at herself in the glass for fear of noting -her own confusion. Her aunt and her mother, her cousin and her bosom -friend, surround and smile at her, and it is a question of who shall -unhook her dress, remove the orange-blossoms from her hair, and have the -last kiss. - -Good! now come the tears; they are wiped away and followed by kisses. -The mother whispers something in her ear about a sacrifice, the future, -necessity, obedience, and finds means to mingle with these simple but -carefully prepared words the hope of celestial benedictions and of the -intercession of a dove or two hidden among the curtains. - -The poor child does not understand anything about it, except it be that -something unheard-of is about to take place, that the young man--she -dare not call him anything else in her thoughts--is about to appear as a -conqueror and address her in wondrous phrases, the very anticipation of -which makes her quiver with impatience and alarm. The child says not a -word--she trembles, she weeps, she quivers like a partridge in a furrow. -The last words of her mother, the last farewells of her family, ring -confusedly in her ears, but it is in vain that she strives to seize on -their meaning; her mind--where is that poor mind of hers? She really -does not know, but it is no longer under her control. - -“Ah! Captain,” I said to myself, “what joys are hidden beneath these -alarms, for she loves you. Do you remember that kiss which she let you -snatch coming out of church that evening when the Abbe What’s-his-name -preached so well, and those hand-squeezings and those softened glances, -and--happy Captain, floods of love will inundate you; she is awaiting -you!” - -Here I gnawed my moustache, I tore my gloves off and then put them -on again, I walked up and down the little drawing-room, I shifted the -clock, which stood on the mantel-shelf; I could not keep still. I had -already experienced such sensations on the morning of the assault on the -Malakoff. Suddenly the General, who was still going on with his eternal -game at ecarte with the prefect, turned round. - -“What a noise you are making, Georges!” said he. “Cards, if you please, -Prefect.” - -“But, General, the fact is that I feel, I will not conceal from you, a -certain degree of emotion and--” - -“The king-one-and four trumps. My dear friend, you are not in luck,” - said he to the prefect, and pulling up with an effort the white -waistcoat covering his stomach, he slipped some louis which were on the -table L931 into his fob; then bethinking himself, he added: “In fact, my -poor fellow, you think yourself bound to keep us company. It is late and -we have three leagues to cover from here to B. Every one has left, too.” - -At last he departed. I can still see his thick neck, the back of which -formed a roll of fat over his ribbon of the Legion of Honor. I heard him -get into his carriage; he was still laughing at intervals. I could have -thrashed him. - -“At last!” I said to myself; “at last!” I mechanically glanced at myself -in the glass. I was crimson, and my boots, I am ashamed to say, were -horribly uncomfortable. I was furious that such a grotesque detail as -tight boots should at such a moment have power to attract my attention; -but I promised to be sincere, and I am telling you the whole truth. - -Just then the clock struck one, and my mother-in-law made her -appearance. Her eyes were red, and her ungloved hand was crumpling up a -handkerchief visibly moistened. - -At the sight of her my first movement was one of impatience. I said to -myself, “I am in for a quarter of an hour of it at least.” - -Indeed, Madame de C. sank down on a couch, took my hand, and burst into -tears. Amid her sobs she ejaculated, “Georges--my dear boy--Georges--my -son.” - -I felt that I could not rise to the occasion. “Come, Captain,” I said -to myself, “a tear; squeeze forth a tear. You can not get out of this -becomingly without a tear, or it will be, ‘My son-in-law, it is all -off.’” - -When this stupid phrase, derived from I do not know where--a Palais -Royal farce, I believe--had once got into my head, it was impossible for -me to get rid of it, and I felt bursts of wild merriment welling up to -my lips. - -“Calm yourself, Madame; calm yourself.” - -“How can I, Georges? Forgive me, my dear boy.” - -“Can you doubt me, Madame?” - -I felt that “Madame” was somewhat cold, but I was afraid of making -Madame de C. seem old by calling her “mother.” I knew her to be somewhat -of a coquette. - -“Oh, I do not doubt your affection; go, my dear boy, go and make her -happy; yes, oh, yes! Fear nothing on my account; I am strong.” - -Nothing is more unbearable than emotion when one does not share it. I -murmured “Mother!” feeling that after all she must appreciate such an -outburst; then approaching, I kissed her, and made a face in spite of -myself--such a salt and disagreeable flavor had been imparted to my -mother-in-law’s countenance by the tears she had shed. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. THE HONEYMOON - -It had been decided that we should pass the first week of our honeymoon -at Madame de C.’s chateau. A little suite of apartments had been fitted -up for us, upholstered in blue chintz, delightfully cool-looking. The -term “cool-looking” may pass here for a kind of bad joke, for in reality -it was somewhat damp in this little paradise, owing to the freshly -repaired walls. - -A room had been specially reserved for me, and it was thither that, -after heartily kissing my dear mother-in-law, I flew up the stairs four -at a time. On an armchair, drawn in front of the fire, was spread out -my maroon velvet dressing-gown and close beside it were my slippers. I -could not resist, and I frantically pulled off my boots. Be that as it -may, my heart was full of love, and a thousand thoughts were whirling -through my head in frightful confusion. I made an effort, and reflected -for a moment on my position: - -“Captain,” said I to myself, “the approaching moment is a solemn one. On -the manner in which you cross the threshold of married life depends your -future happiness. It is not a small matter to lay the first stone of an -edifice. A husband’s first kiss”--I felt a thrill run down my back--“a -husband’s first kiss is like the fundamental axiom that serves as a -basis for a whole volume. Be prudent, Captain. She is there beyond that -wall, the fair young bride, who is awaiting you; her ear on the alert, -her neck outstretched, she is listening to each of your movements. At -every creak of the boards she shivers, dear little soul.” - -As I said this, I took off my coat and my cravat. “Your line of conduct -lies before you ready traced out,” I added; “be impassioned with due -restraint, calm with some warmth, good, kind, tender; but at the same -time let her have a glimpse of the vivacities of an ardent affection and -the attractive aspect of a robust temperament.” Suddenly I put my coat -on again. I felt ashamed to enter my wife’s room in a dressing-gown and -night attire. Was it not equal to saying to her: “My dear, I am at home; -see how I make myself so”? It was making a show of rights which I -did not yet possess, so I rearranged my dress, and after the thousand -details of a careful toilette I approached the door and gave three -discreet little taps. Oh! I can assure you that I was all in a tremble, -and my heart was beating so violently that I pressed my hand to my chest -to restrain its throbs. - -She answered nothing, and after a moment of anguish I decided to knock -again. I felt tempted to say in an earnest voice, “It is I, dear; may I -come in?” But I also felt that it was necessary that this phrase should -be delivered in the most perfect fashion, and I was afraid of marring -its effect; I remained, therefore, with a smile upon my lips as if she -had been able to see me, and I twirled my moustache, which, without -affectation, I had slightly perfumed. - -I soon heard a faint cough, which seemed to answer me and to grant me -admission. Women, you see, possess that exquisite tact, that extreme -delicacy, which is wholly lacking to us. Could one say more cleverly, in -a more charming manner, “Come, I await you, my love, my spouse”? Saint -Peter would not have hit upon it. That cough was heaven opening to me. -I turned the handle, the door swept noiselessly over the soft carpet. I -was in my wife’s room. - -A delightful warmth met me face to face, and I breathed a vague perfume -of violets and orris-root, or something akin, with which the air of the -room was laden. A charming disorder was apparent, the ball dress was -spread upon a lounging-chair, two candles were discreetly burning -beneath rose-colored shades. - -I drew near the bed where Louise was reposing, on the farther side -of it, with her face to the wall, and her head buried in the pillows. -Motionless and with closed eyes she appeared to be asleep, but her -heightened color betrayed her emotion. I must acknowledge that at that -moment I felt the most embarrassed of mankind. I resolved humbly to -request hospitality. That would be delicate and irreproachable. Oh! you -who have gone through these trials, search your memories and recall that -ridiculous yet delightful moment, that moment of mingled anguish and -joy, when it becomes necessary, without any preliminary rehearsal, to -play the most difficult of parts, and to avoid the ridicule which is -grinning at you from the folds of the curtains; to be at one and the -same time a diplomatist, a barrister, and a man of action, and by skill, -tact, and eloquence render the sternest of realities acceptable without -banishing the most ideal of dreams. - -I bent over the bed, and in the softest notes, the sweetest tones my -voice could compass, I murmured, “Well, darling?” - -One does what one can at such moments; I could not think of anything -better, and yet, Heaven knows, I had tried. - -No reply, and yet she was awake. I will admit that my embarrassment was -doubled. I had reckoned--I can say as much between ourselves--upon -more confidence and greater yielding. I had calculated on a moment of -effusiveness, full of modesty and alarm, it is true, but, at any rate, -I had counted upon such effusiveness, and I found myself strangely -disappointed. The silence chilled me. - -“You sleep very soundly, dear. Yet I have a great many things to say; -won’t you talk a little?” - -As I spoke I--touched her shoulder with the tip of my finger, and saw -her suddenly shiver. - -“Come,” said I; “must I kiss you to wake you up altogether?” - -She could not help smiling, and I saw that she was blushing. - -“Oh! do not be afraid, dear; I will only kiss the tips of your fingers -gently, like that,” and seeing that she let me do so, I sat down on the -bed. - -She gave a little cry. I had sat down on her foot, which was straying -beneath the bedclothes. - -“Please let me go to sleep,” she said, with a supplicating air; “I am so -tired.” - -“And how about myself, my dear child? I am ready to drop. See, I am in -evening dress, and have not a pillow to rest my head on, not one, except -this one.” I had her hand in mine, and I squeezed it while kissing it. -“Would you be very vexed to lend this pillow to your husband? Come, are -you going to refuse me a little bit of room? I am not troublesome, I can -assure you.” - -I thought I noted a smile on her lips, and, impatient to escape from -my delicate position, in a moment I rose, and, while continuing to -converse, hastelessly and noiselessly undressed. I was burning my ships. -When my ships were burned there was absolutely nothing left for me to do -but to get into bed. - -Louise gave a little cry, then she threw herself toward the wall, and I -heard a kind of sob. - -I had one foot in bed and the other out, and remained petrified, a smile -on my lips, and supporting myself wholly on one arm. - -“What is the matter-dear; what is the matter? Forgive me if I have -offended you.” - -I brought my head closer to her own, and, while inhaling the perfume of -her hair, whispered in her ear: - -“I love you, my dear child; I love you, little wife; don’t you think -that I do?” - -She turned toward me her eyes, moistened with tears, and said in a voice -broken by emotion and so soft, so low, so tender, that it penetrated to -the marrow of my bones: - -“I love you, too. But let me sleep!” - -“Sleep, my loved angel; sleep fearlessly, my love. I am going away; -sleep while I watch over you,” I said. - -Upon my honor I felt a sob rise to my throat, and yet the idea that my -last remark was not badly turned shot through my brain. I pulled the -coverings over her again and tucked her up like a child. I can still see -her rosy face buried in that big pillow, the curls of fair hair escaping -from under the lace of her little nightcap. With her left hand she held -the counterpane close up under her chin, and I saw on one of her fingers -the new and glittering wedding-ring I had given her that morning. She -was charming, a bird nestling in cottonwool, a rosebud fallen amid snow. -When she was settled I bent over her and kissed her on the forehead. - -“I am repaid,” said I to her, laughing; “are you comfortable, Louise?” - -She did not answer, but her eyes met mine and I saw in them a smile -which seemed to thank me, but a smile so subtle that in any other -circumstances I should have seen a shadow of raillery in it. - -“Now, Captain, settle yourself in this armchair and goodnight!” I said -this to myself, and I made an effort to raise my unfortunate foot which -I had forgotten, a heroic effort, but it was impossible to accomplish -it. The leg was so benumbed that I could not move it. As well as I could -I hoisted myself upon the other leg, and, hobbling, reached my armchair -without appearing too lame. The room seemed to me twice as wide to -cross as the Champ de Mars, for hardly had I taken a step in its -chilly atmosphere--the fire had gone out, it was April, and the chateau -overlooked the Loire--when the cold reminded me of the scantiness of my -costume. What! to cross the room before that angel, who was doubtless -watching me, in the most grotesque of costumes, and with a helpless -leg into the bargain! Why had I forgotten my dressing-gown? However, I -reached the armchair, into which I sank. I seized my dress-coat which -was beside me, threw it over my shoulders, twisted my white cravat -round my neck, and, like a soldier bivouacking, I sought a comfortable -position. - -It would have been all very well without the icy cold that assailed -my legs, and I saw nothing in reach to cover me. I said to myself, -“Captain, the position is not tenable,” when at length I perceived on -the couch--One sometimes is childishly ashamed, but I really dared -not, and I waited for a long minute struggling between a sense of the -ridiculous and the cold which I felt was increasing. At last, when I -heard my wife’s breathing become more regular and thought that she must -be asleep, I stretched out my arm and pulled toward me her wedding-gown -which was on the couch--the silk rustled enough to wake the dead--and -with the energy which one always finds on an emergency, wrapped it round -me savagely like a railway rug. Then yielding to an involuntary fit of -sybaritism, I unhooked the bellows and tried to get the fire to burn. - -“After all,” I said to myself, arranging the blackened embers and -working the little instrument with a thousand precautions, “after all, -I have behaved like a gentleman. If the General saw me at this moment he -would laugh in my face; but no matter, I have acted rightly.” - -Had I not sworn to be sincere, I do not know whether I should -acknowledge to you that I suddenly felt horrible tinglings in the nasal -regions. I wished to restrain myself, but the laws of nature are those -which one can not escape. My respiration suddenly ceased, I felt a -superhuman power contract my facial muscles, my nostrils dilated, my -eyes closed, and all at once I sneezed with such violence that the -bottle of Eau des Carmes shook again. God forgive me! A little cry -came from the bed, and immediately afterward the most silvery frank and -ringing outbreak of laughter followed. Then she added in her simple, -sweet, musical tones: - -“Have you hurt yourself--, Georges?” She had said Georges after a brief -silence, and in so low a voice that I scarcely heard it. - -“I am very ridiculous, am I not, dear? and you are quite right to laugh -at me. What would you have? I am camping out and I am undergoing the -consequences.” - -“You are not ridiculous, but you are catching cold,” and she began to -laugh again. - -“Naughty girl!” - -“Cruel one, you ought to say, and you would not be wrong if I were -to let you fall ill.” She said this with charming grace. There was a -mingling of timidity and tenderness, modesty and raillery, which I find -it impossible to express, but which stupefied me. She smiled at me, then -I saw her move nearer to the wall in order to leave room for me, and, as -I hesitated to cross the room. - -“Come, forgive me,” she said. - -I approached the bed; my teeth were chattering. - -“How kind you are to me, dear,” she said to me after a moment or so; -“will you wish me good-night?” and she held out her cheek to me. I -approached nearer, but as the candle had just gone out I made a mistake -as to the spot, and my lips brushed hers. She quivered, then, after a -brief silence, she murmured in a low tone, “You must forgive me; you -frightened me so just now.” - -“I wanted to kiss you, dear.” - -“Well, kiss me, my husband.” - -Within the trembling young girl the coquetry of the woman was breaking -forth in spite of herself. - -I could not help it; she exhaled a delightful perfume which mounted to -my brain, and the contact of this dear creature whom I touched, despite -myself, swept away all my resolutions. - -My lips--I do not know how it was--met hers, and we remained thus for a -long moment; I felt against my breast the echo of the beating heart, and -her rapid breathing came full into my face. - -“You do love me a little, dear?” I whispered in her ear. - -I distinguished amid a confused sigh a little “Yes!” that resembled a -mere breath. - -“I don’t frighten you any longer?” - -“No,” she murmured, very softly. - -“You will be my little wife, then, Louise; you will let me teach you to -love me as I love you?” - -“I do love you,” said she, but so softly and so gently that she seemed -to be dreaming. - -How many times have we not laughed over these recollections, already so -remote. - - - - -BOOK 2. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. THE BLUE NOTE-BOOK - -Toward midnight mamma made a sign to me with her eyes, and under cover -of a lively waltz we slipped out of the drawing-room. In the hall the -servants, who were passing to and fro, drew aside to let us go by them, -but I felt that their eyes were fixed upon me with the curiosity which -had pursued me since the morning. The large door giving on to the park -was open, although the night was cool, and in the shadow I could make -out groups of country folk gathered there to catch a glimpse of the -festivities through the windows. These good people were laughing and -whispering; they were silent for a moment as we advanced to ascend the -staircase, but I once more felt that I was the mark of these inquisitive -looks and the object of all these smiles. The face of mamma, who -accompanied me, was much flushed, and large tears were flowing from her -eyes. - -How was it that an event so gay for some was so sad for others? - -When I think over it now I can hardly keep my countenance. What silly -terrors at that frightful yet charming moment! Yet, after all, one -exaggerates things a great deal. - -On reaching the first floor mamma stopped, choking, took my head in her -hands, and kissed me on the forehead, and exclaimed, “Valentine!” I was -not greatly moved by this outburst, knowing that mamma, since she has -grown a little too stout, has some difficulty in getting upstairs. I -judged, therefore, that the wish to take breath for a moment without -appearing to do so had something to do with this sudden halt. - -We entered the nuptial chamber; it was as coquettish as possible, -refreshing to the eye, snug, elegant, and adorned with fine Louis XVI -furniture, upholstered in Beauvais tapestry. The bed, above all, was -a marvel of elegance, but to tell the truth I had no idea of it till -a week later. At the outside it seemed to me that I was entering an -austere-looking locality; the very air we breathed appeared to me to -have something solemn and awe-striking about it. - -“Here is your room, child,” said mamma; “but first of all come and sit -here beside me, my dear girl.” - -At these words we both burst into tears, and mamma then expressed -herself as follows: - -“The kiss you are giving me, Valentine, is the last kiss that I shall -have from you as a girl. Your husband--for Georges is that now--” - -At these words I shuddered slightly, and by a singular freak of my brain -pictured to myself Monsieur Georges--Georges--my husband--in a cotton -night cap and a dressing-gown. The vision flashed across my mind in the -midst of the storm. I saw him just as plainly as if he had been there. -It was dreadful. The nightcap came over his forehead, down to his -eyebrows, and he said to me, pressing my hand; “At last, Valentine; you -are mine; do you love me? oh! tell me, do you love me?” And as his head -moved as he uttered these words, the horrible tuft at the end of his -nightcap waggled as an accompaniment. - -“No,” I said to myself, “it is impossible for my husband to appear in -such a fashion; let me banish this image--and yet my father wears the -hideous things, and my brother, who is quite young, has them already. -Men wear them at all ages, unless though--” It is frightful to -relate, but Georges now appeared to me with a red-and-green bandanna -handkerchief tied round his head. I would have given ten years of my -life to be two hours older, and hurriedly passed my hand across my eyes -to drive away these diabolical visions. - -However, mamma, who had been still speaking all the time, attributing -this movement to the emotion caused by her words, said, with great -sweetness: - -“Do not be alarmed, my dear Valentine; perhaps I am painting the picture -in too gloomy colors; but my experience and my love render this duty -incumbent upon me.” - -I have never heard mamma express herself so fluently. I was all the more -surprised as, not having heard a word of what she had already said, this -sentence seemed suddenly sprung upon me. Not knowing what to answer, I -threw myself into the arms of mamma, who, after a minute or so, put me -away gently, saying, “You are suffocating me, dear.” - -She wiped her eyes with her little cambric handkerchief, which was damp, -and said, smilingly: - -“Now that I have told you what my conscience imposed on me, I am strong. -See, dear, I think that I can smile. Your husband, my dear child, is a -man full of delicacy. Have confidence; accept all without misgiving.” - -Mamma kissed me on the forehead, which finished off her sentence, and -added: - -“Now, dear one, I have fulfilled a duty I regarded as sacred. Come here -and let me take your wreath off.” - -“By this time,” I thought, “they have noticed that I have left the -drawing-room. They are saying, ‘Where is the bride?’ and smiling, -‘Monsieur Georges is getting uneasy. What is he doing? what is he -thinking? where is he?’” - -“Have you tried on your nightcap, dear?” said mamma, who had recovered -herself; “it looks rather small to me, but is nicely embroidered. Oh, it -is lovely!” - -And she examined it from every point of view. - -At that moment there was a knock at the door. “It is I,” said several -voices, among which I distinguished the flute-like tones of my aunt -Laura, and those of my godmother. Madame de P., who never misses a -chance of pressing her two thick lips to some one’s cheeks, accompanied -them. Their eyes glittered, and all three had a sly and triumphant look, -ferreting and inquisitive, which greatly intimidated me. Would they also -set about fulfilling a sacred duty? - -“Oh, you are really too pretty, my angel!” said Madame de P., kissing -me on the forehead, after the moist fashion peculiar to her, and then -sitting down in the large Louis XVI armchair. - -My maid had not been allowed to undress me, so that all of them, taking -off their gloves, set to work to render me this service. They tangled -the laces, caught their own lace in the hooks, and laughed heartily all -the while. - -“It is the least that the oldest friend of the family,”--she loved to -speak of herself as such--“should make herself useful at such a moment,” - muttered Madame de P., holding her eyeglass in one hand and working with -the other. - -I passed into a little boudoir to complete my toilette for the night, -and found on the marble of the dressing-table five or six bottles of -scent, tied up with red, white, and blue ribbons--an act of attention on -the part of my Aunt Laura. I felt the blood flying to my head; there -was an unbearable singing in my ears. Now that I can coolly weigh the -impressions I underwent, I can tell that what I felt above all was -anger. I would have liked to be in the farthest depths of the wildest -forest in America, so unseemly did I find this curious kindness which -haunted me with its attentions. I should have liked to converse a little -with myself, to fathom my own emotion somewhat, and, in short, to utter -a brief prayer before throwing myself into the torrent. - -However, through the open door, I could hear the four ladies whispering -together and stifling their outbursts of laughter; I had never seen -them so gay. I made up my mind. I crossed the room, and, shaking off -the pretty little white slippers which my mother had embroidered for me, -jumped into bed. I was not long in finding out that it was no longer -my own narrow little bed. It was immense, and I hesitated a moment, not -knowing which way to turn. I felt nevertheless a feeling of physical -comfort. The bed was warm, and I do not know what scent rose from its -silken coverlet. I felt myself sink into the mass of feathers, the -pillows, twice over too large and trimmed with embroidery, gave way as -it were beneath me, burying me in a soft and perfumed abyss. - -At length the ladies rose, and after giving a glance round the room, -doubtless to make sure that nothing was lacking, approached the bed. - -“Good-night, my dear girl,” said my mother, bending over me. - -She kissed me, carried her handkerchief, now reduced to a wet dab, to -her eyes, and went out with a certain precipitation. - -“Remember that the old friend of the family kissed you on this night, my -love,” said Madame de P., as she moistened my forehead. - -“Come, my little lamb, good-night and sleep well,” said my aunt, with -her smile that seemed to issue from her nose. She added in a whisper: -“You love him, don’t you? The slyboots! she won’t answer! Well, since -you love him so much, don’t tell him so, my dear. But I must leave you; -you are sleepy. Goodnight.” - -And she went away, smiling. - -At length I was alone. I listened; the doors were being closed, I heard -a carriage roll along the road; the flame of the two candles placed -upon the mantelshelf quivered silently and were reflected in the -looking-glass. - -I thought about the ceremony of that morning, the dinner, the ball. I -said to myself, clenching my fists to concentrate my thoughts: “How was -Marie dressed? She was dressed in--dressed in--dressed in--” I repeated -the words aloud to impart more authority to them and oblige my mind to -reply; but do what I would, it was impossible for me to drive away the -thought that invaded my whole being. - -“He is coming. What is he doing? Where is he? Perhaps he is on the -stairs now. How shall I receive him when he comes?” - -I loved him; oh! with my whole soul, I can acknowledge it now; but I -loved him quite at the bottom of my heart. In order to think of him I -went down into the very lowest chamber of my heart, bolted the door, and -crouched down in the darkest corner. - -At last, at a certain moment, the floor creaked, a door was opened in -the passage with a thousand precautions, and I heard the tread of a -boot--a boot! - -The boot ceased to creak, and I heard quite close to me, on the other -side of the wall, which was nothing but a thin partition, an armchair -being rolled across the carpet, and then a little cough, which seemed -to me to vibrate with emotion. It was he! But for the partition I could -have touched him with my finger. A few moments later I could distinguish -the almost imperceptible sound of footsteps on the carpet; this faint -sound rang violently in my head. All at once my breathing and my heart -both stopped together; there was a tap at the door. The tapping was -discreet, full of entreaty and delicacy. I wanted to reply, “Come in,” - but I had no longer any voice; and, besides, was it becoming to answer -like that, so curtly and plainly? I thought “Come in” would sound -horribly unseemly, and I said nothing. There was another tap. I should -really have preferred the door to have been broken open with a hatchet -or for him to have come down the chimney. In my agony I coughed faintly -among my sheets. That was enough; the door opened, and I divined from -the alteration in the light shed by the candles that some one at whom I -did not dare look was interposing between them and myself. - -This some one, who seemed to glide across the carpet, drew near the bed, -and I could distinguish out of the corner of my eye his shadow on the -wall. I could scarcely restrain my joy; my Captain wore neither cotton -nightcap nor bandanna handkerchief. That was indeed something. However, -in this shadow which represented him in profile, his nose had so much -importance that amid all my uneasiness a smile flitted across my lips. -Is it not strange how all these little details recur to your mind? I -did not dare turn round, but I devoured with my eyes this shadow -representing my husband; I tried to trace in it the slightest of his -gestures; I even sought the varying expressions of his physiognomy, but, -alas! in vain. - -I do not know how to express in words all that I felt at that moment; my -pen seems too clumsy to write my sensations, and, besides, did I really -see deep into my heart? - -Do men comprehend all this? Do they understand that the heart requires -gradual changes, and that if a half-light awakens, a noon-day blaze -dazzles and burns? It is not that the poor child, who is trembling in -a corner, refuses to learn; far from that, she has aptitude, good-will, -and a quick and ready intelligence; she knows she has reached the age -at which it is necessary to know how to read; she rejects neither the -science nor even the teacher. It is the method of instruction that makes -her uneasy. She is afraid lest this young professor, whose knowledge -is so extensive, should turn over the pages of the book too quickly and -neglect the A B C. - -A few hours back he was the submissive, humble lover, ready to kneel -down before her, hiding his knowledge as one hides a sin, speaking his -own language with a thousand circumspections. At any moment it might -have been thought that he was going to blush. She was a queen, he a -child; and now all at once the roles are changed; it is the submissive -subject who arrives in the college cap of a professor, hiding under his -arm an unknown and mysterious book. Is the man in the college cap about -to command, to smile, to obtrude himself and his books, to speak Latin, -to deliver a lecture? - -She does not know that this learned individual is trembling, too; that -he is greatly embarrassed over his opening lesson, that emotion has -caused him to forget his Latin, that his throat is parched and his -legs are trembling beneath him. She does not know this, and I tell you -between ourselves, it is not her self-esteem that suffers least at this -conjecture. She suffers at finding herself, after so many signatures, -contracts, and ceremonies-still a charming child, and nothing more. - -I believe that the first step in conjugal life will, according to the -circumstances accompanying it, give birth to captivating sympathies or -invincible repulsion. But to give birth to these sympathies, to strike -the spark that is to set light to this explosion of infinite gratitude -and joyful love--what art, what tact, what delicacy, and at the same -time what presence of mind are needed. - -How was it that at the first word Georges uttered my terrors vanished? -His voice was so firm and so sweet, he asked me so gayly for leave to -draw near the fire and warm his feet, and spoke to me with such ease -and animation of the incidents of the day. I said to myself, “It is -impossible for the least baseness to be hidden under all this.” In -presence of so much good-humor and affability my scaffolding fell to -pieces. I ventured a look from beneath the sheets: I saw him comfortably -installed in the big armchair, and I bit my lips. I am still at a loss -to understand this little fit of ill-temper. When one is reckoning on -a fright, one is really disappointed at its delaying itself. Never had -Georges been more witty, more affectionate, more well-bred; he was still -the man of the day before. He must really have been very excited. - -“You are tired out, I am certain, darling,” he said. - -The word “darling” made me start, but did not frighten me; it was the -first time he had called me so, but I really could not refuse him the -privilege of speaking thus. However it may be, I maintained my reserve, -and in the same tone as one replies, “No thanks, I don’t take tea,” I -answered: - -“Oh, yes! I am worn out.” - -“I thought so,” he added, approaching the bed; “you can not keep your -eyes open; you can not even look at me, my dear little wife.” - -“I will leave you,” continued he. “I will leave you; you need repose.” - And he drew still more closely to me, which was not natural. Then, -stretching out his hand, which I knew was white and well cared for: -“Won’t you give me a little shake of the hand, dear? I am half asleep, -too, my pretty little wife.” His face wore an expression which was -alarming, though not without its charm; as he said this, I saw clearly -that he had lied to me like a demon, and that he was no more sleepy than -I was. - -However that may be, I was guilty of the fault, the carelessness that -causes disaster, of letting him take my hand, which was straying by -chance under the lace of the pillows. - -I was that evening in a special condition of nervous sensibility, for -at this contact a strange sensation ran through me from head to foot. -It was not that the Captain’s hand had the softness of satin--I believe -that physical sensations, in us women, have causes directly contrary to -those which move men; for that which caused me such lively emotion was -precisely its firmness. There was something strong, manly, and powerful -about it. He squeezed my hand rather strongly. - -My rings, which I have a fancy for wearing all at once, hurt me, and--I -really should not have believed it--I liked it very much, perhaps -too much. For the first time I found an inexplicable, an almost -intoxicating, charm in this intimate contact with a being who could have -crushed me between his fingers, and that in the middle of the night too, -in silence, without any possibility of help. It was horribly delicious. - -I did not withdraw my hand, which he kissed, but lingeringly. The clock -struck two, and the last sound had long since died away when his lips -were still there, quivering with rapid little movements, which were so -many imperceptible kisses, moist, warm, burning. I felt gleams of fire -flashing around me. I wished to draw away my hand, but could not; I -remember perfectly well that I could not. His moustache pricked me, and -whiffs of the scent with which he perfumed it reached me and completed -my trouble. I felt my nostrils dilating despite myself, and, striving -but in vain to take refuge in my inmost being, I exclaimed inwardly: -“Protect me, Lord, but this time with all your might. A drop of water, -Lord; a drop of water!” I waited--no appreciable succor reached from -above. It was not till a week afterward that I understood the intentions -of Providence. - -“You told me you were sleepy,” I murmured, in a trembling voice. I was -like a shipwrecked person clutching at a floating match-box; I knew -quite well that the Captain would not go away. - -“Yes, I was sleepy, pet,” said Georges, approaching his face to mine; -“but now I am athirst.” He put his lips to my ear and whispered softly, -“Athirst for a kiss from you, love.” - -This “love” was the beginning of another life. The spouse now appeared, -the past was fleeing away, I was entering on the future. At length I had -crossed the frontier; I was in a foreign land. Oh! I acknowledge--for -what is the use of feigning?--that I craved for this love, and I felt -that it engrossed me and spread itself through me. I felt that I was -getting out of my depth, I let go the last branch that held me to the -shore, and to myself I repeated: “Yes, I love you; yes, I am willing to -follow you; yes, I am yours, love, love, love!” - -“Won’t you kiss your husband; come, won’t you?” - -And his mouth was so near my own that it seemed to meet my lips. - -“Yes,” said I. - - ............................. - -August 7th, 185-How many times have I not read through you during the -last two years, my little blue note-book! How many things I might add as -marginal notes if you were not doomed to the flames, to light my first -fire this autumn! How could I have written all this, and how is it that -having done so I have not dared to complete my confidences! No one has -seen you, at any rate; no one has turned your pages. Go back into your -drawer, dear, with, pending the first autumn fire, a kiss from your -Valentine. - -NOTE.--Owing to what circumstances this blue note-book, doomed to the -flames, was discovered by me in an old Louis XVI chiffonnier I had just -bought does not greatly matter to you, dear reader, and would be out of -my power to explain even if it did. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. THE BLUE NOTE-BOOK AGAIN - -Only to think that I was going to throw you into the fire, poor dear! -Was I not foolish? In whom else could I confide? If I had not you, to -whom could I tell all those little things at which every one laughs, but -which make you cry! - -This evening, for instance, I dined alone, for Georges was invited out; -well, to whom else can I acknowledge that when I found myself alone, -face to face with a leg of mutton, cooked to his liking, and with the -large carving-knife which is usually beside his plate, before me, I -began to cry like a child? To whom else can I admit that I drank out of -the Bohemian wine-glass he prefers, to console me a little? - -But if I were to mention this they would laugh in my face. Father -Cyprien himself, who nevertheless has a heart running over with -kindness, would say to me: - -“Let us pass that by, my dear child; let us pass that by.” - -I know him so well, Father Cyprien; while you, you always listen to me, -my poor little note-book; if a tear escapes me, you kindly absorb it and -retain its trace like a good-hearted friend. Hence I love you. - -And, since we are tete-a-tete, let us have a chat. You won’t be angry -with me for writing with a pencil, dear. You see I am very comfortably -settled in my big by-by and I do not want to have any ink-stains. The -fire sparkles on the hearth, the street is silent; let us forget that -George will not return till midnight, and turn back to the past. - -I can not recall the first month of that dear past without laughing and -weeping at one and the same time. - -How foolish we were! How sweet it was! There is a method of teaching -swimming which is not the least successful, I am told. It consists in -throwing the future swimmer into the water and praying God to help him. -I am assured that after the first lesson he keeps himself afloat. - -Well, I think that we women are taught to be wives in very much the same -fashion. - -Happy or otherwise--the point is open to discussion marriage is a -hurricane--something unheard-of and alarming. - -In a single night, and without any transition, everything is transformed -and changes color; the erst while-cravatted, freshly curled, carefully -dressed gentleman makes his appearance in a dressing-gown. That which -was prohibited becomes permissible, the code is altered, and words -acquire a meaning they never had before, et cetera, et cetera. - -It is not that all this is so alarming, if taken the right way--a woman -with some courage in her heart and some flexibility in her mind supports -the shock and does not die under it; but the firmest of us are amazed -at it, and stand open-mouthed amid all these strange novelties, like a -penniless gourmand in the shop of Potel and Chabot. - -They dare not touch these delicacies surrounding them, though invited to -taste. It is not that the wish or the appetite is lacking to them, but -all these fine fruits have been offered them so lately that they have -still the somewhat acid charm of green apples or forbidden fruit. They -approach, but they hesitate to bite. - -After all, why complain? What would one have to remember if one had -entered married life like an inn, if one had not trembled a little when -knocking at the door? And it is so pleasant to recall things, that one -would sometimes like to deck the future in the garments of the past. - -It was, I recollect, two days after the all-important one. I had gone -into his room, I no longer remember why--for the pleasure of going in, -I suppose, and thereby acting as a wife. A strong desire is that which -springs up in your brain after leaving church to look like an old -married woman. You put on caps with ribbons, you never lay aside your -cashmere shawl, you talk of “my home”--two sweet words--and then you -bite your lips to keep from breaking out into a laugh; and “my husband,” - and “my maid,” and the first dinner you order, when you forget the soup. -All this is charming, and, however ill at ease you may feel at first in -all these new clothes, you are quite eager to put them on. - -So I had gone into the dressing-room of my husband, who, standing before -the glass, very lightly clad, was prosaically shaving. - -“Excuse me, dear,” said he, laughing, and he held up his shaving-brush, -covered with white lather. “You will pardon my going on with this. Do -you want anything?” - -“I came, on the contrary,” I answered, “to see whether you had need of -anything;” and, greatly embarrassed myself, for I was afraid of being -indiscreet, and I was not sure whether one ought to go into one’s -husband’s room like this, I added, innocently, “Your shirts have -buttons, have they not?” - -“Oh, what a good little housewife I have married! Do not bother yourself -about such trifles, my pet. I will ask your maid to look after my -buttons,” said he. - -I felt confused; I was afraid of appealing too much of a schoolgirl -in his eyes. He went on working his soap into a lather with his -shaving-brush. I wanted to go away, but I was interested in such a novel -fashion by the sight of my husband, that I had not courage to do so. -His neck was bare--a thick, strong neck, but very white and changing -its shape at every movement--the muscles, you know. It would have been -horrible in a woman, that neck, and yet it did not seem ugly to me. Nor -was it admiration that thus inspired me; it was rather like gluttony. -I wanted to touch it. His hair, cut very short--according to -regulation--grew very low, and between its beginning and the ear there -was quite a smooth white place. The idea at once occurred to me that -if ever I became brave enough, it was there that I should kiss him -oftenest; it was strange, that presentiment, for it is in fact on that -little spot that I-- - -He stopped short. I fancied I understood that he was afraid of appearing -comical in my eyes, with his face smothered in lather; but he was wrong. -I felt myself all in a quiver at being beside a man--the word man is -rather distasteful to me, but I can not find another, for husband would -not express my thoughts--at being beside a man in the making of his -toilette. I should have liked him to go on without troubling himself; -I should have liked to see how he managed to shave himself without -encroaching on his moustache, how he made his parting and brushed his -hair with the two round brushes I saw on the table, what use he made -of all the little instruments set out in order on the marble-tweezers, -scissors, tiny combs, little pots and bottles with silver tops, and a -whole arsenal of bright things, that aroused quite a desire to beautify -one’s self. - -I should have liked him while talking to attend to the nails of his -hands, which I was already very fond of; or, better still, to have -handed them over to me. How I should have rummaged in the little -corners, cut, filed, arranged all that. - -“Well, dear, what are you looking at me like that for?” said he, -smiling. - -I lowered my eyes at once, and felt that I was blushing. I was uneasy, -although charmed, amid these new surroundings. I did not know what to -answer, and mechanically I dipped the tip of my finger into the little -china pot in which the soap was being lathered. - -“What is the matter, darling?” said he, approaching his face to mine; -“have I offended you?” - -I don’t know what strange idea darted through my mind, but I suddenly -took my hand from the pot and stuck the big ball of lather at the end of -my finger on the tip of his nose. He broke out into a hearty laugh, and -so did I; though I trembled for a moment, lest he should be angry. - -“So that’s the way in which you behave to a captain in the lancers? You -shall pay for this, you wicked little darling;” and, taking the shaving -brush in his hand, he chased me round the room. I dodged round the -table, I took refuge behind the armchair, upsetting his boots with my -skirt, getting the tongs at the same time entangled in it. Passing the -sofa, I noticed his uniform laid out--he had to wait on the General that -morning--and, seizing his schapska, I made use of it as a buckler. But -laughter paralyzed me, and besides, what could a poor little woman do -against a soldier, even with a buckler? - -He ended by catching me--the struggle was a lovely one. It was all very -well for me to scream, as I threw my head backward over the arm by -which he clasped me; I none the less saw the frightful brush, like a big -snowball, at the end of a little stick, come nearer and yet nearer. - -But he was merciful; he was satisfied with daubing a little white spot -on my chin and exclaiming, “The cavalry have avenged themselves.” - -Seizing the brush in turn, I said to him roguishly, “Captain, let me -lather your face,” for I did so want to do that. - -In answer, he held his face toward me, and, observing that I was obliged -to stand on the tips of my toes and to support myself a little on his -shoulder, he knelt down before me and yielded his head to me. - -With the tip of my finger I made him bend his face to the right and the -left, backward and forward, and I lathered and lathered, giggling like -a schoolgirl. It amused me so to see my Captain obey me like a child; -I would have given I don’t know what if he had only had his sword and -spurs on at that moment. Unfortunately, he was in his slippers. I spread -the lather over his nose and forehead; he closed his eyes and put his -two arms round me, saying: - -“Go on, my dear, go on; but see that you don’t put any into my mouth.” - -At that moment I experienced a very strange feeling. My laughter died -away all at once; I felt ashamed at seeing my husband at my feet and at -thus amusing myself with him as if he were a doll. - -I dropped the shaving-brush; I felt my eyes grow moist; and, suddenly, -becoming more tender, I bent toward him and kissed him on the neck, -which was the only spot left clear. - -Yet his ear was so near that, in passing it, my lips moved almost in -spite of myself, and I whispered: - -“Don’t be angry, dear,” then, overcome by emotion and repentance, I -added: “I love you, I do love you.” - -“My own pet!” he said, rising suddenly. His voice shook. - -What delightful moments these were! Unfortunately, oh! yes, indeed, -unfortunately, he could not press his lathered face to mine! - -“Wait a little,” he exclaimed, darting toward the washbasin, full of -water, “wait an instant!” - -But it seemed as if it took him a week to wash it off. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. MY WIFE GOES TO A DANCE - -Madame--Ah! it is so nice of you to come home early! (Looking at the -clock.) A quarter to six. But how cold you are! your hands are frozen; -come and sit by the fire. (She puts a log on the fire.) I have been -thinking of you all day. It is cruel to have to go out in such weather. -Have you finished your doubts? are you satisfied? - -Monsieur--Quite well satisfied, dear. (Aside.) But I have never known -my wife to be so amiable. (Aloud, taking up the bellows.) Quite well -satisfied, and I am very hungry. Has my darling been good? - -Madame--You are hungry. Good! (Calling out.) Marie, call into the -kitchen that your master wants to dine early. Let them look after -everything--and send up a lemon. - -Monsieur--A mystery? - -Madame--Yes, Monsieur, I have a little surprise for you, and I fancy -that it will delight you. - -Monsieur--Well, what is the surprise? - -Madame--Oh! it is a real surprise. How curious you look! your eyes are -glittering already. Suppose I were not to tell you anything? - -Monsieur--Then you would vex me very much. - -Madame--There, I don’t want to vex you. You are going to have some -little green oysters and a partridge. Am I good? - -Monsieur--Oysters and a partridge! You are an angel. (He kisses her.) An -angel. (Aside.) What on earth is the matter with her? (Aloud.) Have you -had visitors to-day? - -Madame--I saw Ernestine this morning, but she only stayed a moment. She -has just discharged her maid. Would you believe it, that girl was seen -the night before last dressed up as a man, and in her master’s clothes, -too! That was going too far. - -Monsieur--That comes of having confidential servants. And you just got a -sight of Ernestine? - -Madame--And that was quite enough, too. (With an exclamation.) How -stupid I am! I forgot. I had a visit from Madame de Lyr as well. - -Monsieur--God bless her! But does she still laugh on one side of her -mouth to hide her black tooth? - -Madame-How cruel you are! Yet, she likes you very well. Poor woman! I -was really touched by her visit. She came to remind me that we--now you -will be angry. (She kisses him and sits down beside him.) - -Monsieur--Be angry! be angry! I’m not a Turk. Come, what is it? - -Madame--Come, we shall go to dinner. You know that there are oysters and -a partridge. I won’t tell you--you are already in a bad temper. Besides, -I all but told her that we are not going. - -Monsieur--(raising his hands aloft)--I thought so. She and her evening -may go to the dogs. What have I done to this woman that she should so -pester me? - -Madame--But she thinks she is affording you pleasure. She is a charming -friend. As for me, I like her because she always speaks well of you. If -you had been hidden in that cabinet during her visit, you could not -have helped blushing. (He shrugs his shoulders.) “Your husband is so -amiable,” she said to me, “so cheery, so witty. Try to bring him; it is -an honor to have him.” I said, “Certainly,” but without meaning it, you -know. But I don’t care about it at all. It is not so very amusing at -Madame de Lyr’s. She always invites such a number of serious people. No -doubt they are influential people, and may prove useful, but what does -that matter to me? Come to dinner. You know that there is a bottle left -of that famous Pomard; I have kept it for your partridge. You can not -imagine what pleasure I feel in seeing you eat a partridge. You eat -it with such a gusto. You are a glutton, my dear. (She takes his -arm.) Come, I can hear your rascal of a son getting impatient in the -dining-room. - -Monsieur--(with a preoccupied air)--Hum! and when is it? - -Madame--When is what? - -Monsieur--The party, of course. - -Madame--Ah! you mean the ball--I was not thinking of it. Madame de Lyr’s -ball. Why do you ask me that, since we are not going? Let us make haste, -dinner is getting cold.... This evening. - -Monsieur--(stopping short)--What! this party is a ball, and this ball is -for this evening. But, hang it! people don’t invite you to a ball like -that. They always give notice some time beforehand. - -Madame--But she sent us an invitation a week ago, though I don’t know -what became of the card. I forgot to show it to you. - -Monsieur--You forgot! you forgot! - -Madame--Well, it is all for the best; I know you would have been sulky -all the week after. Come to dinner. - -They sat down to table. The cloth was white, the cutlery bright, the -oysters fresh; the partridge, cooked to perfection, exhaled a delightful -odor. Madame was charming, and laughed at everything. Monsieur unbent -his brows and stretched himself on the chair. - -Monsieur--This Pomard is very good. Won’t you have some, little dear? - -Madame--Yes, your little dear will. (She pushes forward her glass with a -coquettish movement.) - -Monsieur--Ah! you have put on your Louis Seize ring. It is a very pretty -ring. - -Madame--(putting her hand under her husband’s nose)--Yes; but look--see, -there is a little bit coming off. - -Monsieur--(kissing his wife’s hand)--Where is the little bit? - -Madame--(smiling)--You jest at everything. I am speaking seriously. -There--look--it is plain enough! (They draw near once another and bend -their heads together to see it.) Don’t you see it? (She points out a -spot on the ring with a rosy and slender finger.) There! do you see -now--there? - -Monsieur--That little pearl which--What on earth have you been putting -on your hair, my dear? It smells very nice--You must send it to the -jeweller. The scent is exquisite. Curls don’t become you badly. - -Madame--Do you think so? (She adjusts her coiffure with her white hand.) -I thought you would like that scent; now, if I were in your place I -should-- - -Monsieur--What would you do in my place, dear? - -Madame--I should--kiss my wife. - -Monsieur--(kissing her)--Well, I must say you have very bright ideas -sometimes. Give me a little bit more partridge, please. (With his mouth -full.) How pretty these poor little creatures look when running among -the corn. You know the cry they give when the sun sets?--A little -gravy.--There are moments when the poetic side of country life appeals -to one. And to think that there are barbarians who eat them with -cabbage. But (filling his glass) have you a gown ready? - -Madame--(with innocent astonishment.)--What for, dear? - -Monsieur--Why, for Madame de Lyr’s-- - -Madame--For the ball?--What a memory you have--There you are still -thinking of it--No, I have not--ah! yes, I have my tarletan, you know; -but then a woman needs so little to make up a ball-room toilette. - -Monsieur--And the hairdresser, has he been sent for? - -Madame--No, he has not been sent for; but I am not anxious to go to this -ball. We will settle down by the fireside, read a little, and go to bed -early. You remind me, however, that, on leaving, Madame de Lyr did say, -“Your hairdresser is the same as mine, I will send him word.” How stupid -I am; I remember now that I did not answer her. But it is not far, I can -send Marie to tell him not to come. - -Monsieur--Since this blessed hairdresser has been told, let him come and -we will go and--amuse ourselves a little at Madame de Lyr’s. But on one -condition only; that I find all my dress things laid out in readiness on -my bed with my gloves, you know, and that you tie my necktie. - -Madame--A bargain. (She kisses him.) You are a jewel of a husband. I am -delighted, my poor dear, because I see you are imposing a sacrifice upon -yourself in order to please me; since, as to the ball itself, I am quite -indifferent about it. I did not care to go; really now I don’t care to -go. - -Monsieur--Hum. Well, I will go and smoke a cigar so as not to be in your -way, and at ten o’clock I will be back here. Your preparations will be -over and in five minutes I shall be dressed. Adieu. - -Madame--Au revoir. - -Monsieur, after reaching the street, lit his cigar and buttoned up his -great-coat. Two hours to kill. It seems a trifle when one is busy, but -when one has nothing to do it is quite another thing. The pavement is -slippery, rain is beginning to fall--fortunately the Palais Royal is not -far off. At the end of his fourteenth tour round the arcades, Monsieur -looks at his watch. Five minutes to ten, he will be late. He rushes -home. - -In the courtyard the carriage is standing waiting. - -In the bedroom two unshaded lamps shed floods of light. Mountains of -muslin and ribbons are piled on the bed and the furniture. Dresses, -skirts, petticoats, and underpetticoats, lace, scarfs, flowers, jewels, -are mingled in a charming chaos. On the table there are pots of pomade, -sticks of cosmetic, hairpins, combs and brushes, all carefully set out. -Two artificial plaits stretch themselves languishingly upon a dark mass -not unlike a large handful of horsehair. A golden hair net, combs of -pale tortoise-shell and bright coral, clusters of roses, sprays of white -lilac, bouquets of pale violets, await the choice of the artist or the -caprice of the beauty. And yet, must I say it? amidst this luxury of -wealth Madame’s hair is undressed, Madame is uneasy, Madame is furious. - -Monsieur--(looking at his watch)--Well, my dear, is your hair dressed? - -Madame--(impatiently)--He asks me whether my hair is dressed? Don’t you -see that I have been waiting for the hairdresser for an hour and a half? -Can’t you see that I am furious, for he won’t come, the horrid wretch? - -Monsieur--The monster! - -Madame--Yes, the monster; and I would advise you not to joke about it. - -There is a ring. The door opens and the lady’s-maid exclaims, “It is he, -Madame!” - -Madame--It is he! - -Monsieur--It is he! - -The artist enters hurriedly and bows while turning his sleeves up. - -Madame--My dear Silvani, this is unbearable. - -Silvani--Very sorry, very, but could not come any sooner. I have been -dressing hair since three o’clock in the afternoon. I have just left the -Duchesse de W., who is going to the Ministry this evening. She sent me -home in her brougham. Lisette, give me your mistress’s combs, and put -the curling-tongs in the fire. - -Madame--But, my dear Silvani, my maid’s name is not Lisette. - -Silvani--You will understand, Madame, that if I had to remember the -names of all the lady’s-maids who help me, I should need six clerks -instead of four. Lisette is a pretty name which suits all these young -ladies very well. Lisette, show me your mistress’s dress. Good. Is the -ball an official one? - -Madame--But dress my hair, Silvani. - -Silvani--It is impossible for me to dress your hair, Madame, unless I -know the circle in which the coiffure will be worn. (To the husband, -seated in the corner.) May I beg you, Monsieur, to take another place? I -wish to be able to step back, the better to judge the effect. - -Monsieur--Certainly, Monsieur Silvani, only too happy to be agreeable to -you. (He sits down on a chair.) - -Madame--(hastily)--Not there, my dear, you will rumple my skirt. (The -husband gets up and looks for another seat.) Take care behind you, you -are stepping on my bustle. - -Monsieur--(turning round angrily)--Her bustle! her bustle! - -Madame--Now you go upsetting my pins. - -Silvani--May I beg a moment of immobility, Madame? - -Monsieur--Come, calm yourself, I will go into the drawing-room; is there -a fire there? - -Madame--(inattentively)--But, my dear, how can you expect a fire to be -in the drawing-room? - -Monsieur--I will go to my study, then. - -Madame--There is none there, either. What do you want a fire in your -study for? What a singular idea! High up, you know, Silvani, and a dash -of disorder, it is all the rage. - -Silvani--Would you allow a touch of brown under the eyes? That would -enable me to idealize the coiffure. - -Monsieur--(impatiently)--Marie, give me my top-coat and my cap. I will -walk up and down in the anteroom. (Aside.) Madame de Lyr shall pay for -this. - -Silvani--(crimping)--I leave your ear uncovered, Madame; it would be -a sin to veil it. It is like that of the Princesse de K., whose hair -I dressed yesterday. Lisette, get the powder ready. Ears like yours, -Madame, are not numerous. - -Madame--You were saying-- - -Silvani--Would your ear, Madame, be so modest as not to listen? - -Madame’s hair is at length dressed. Silvani sheds a light cloud of -scented powder over his work, on which he casts a lingering look of -satisfaction, then bows and retires. - -In passing through the anteroom, he runs against Monsieur, who is -walking up and down. - -Silvani--A thousand pardons, I have the honor to wish you good night. - -Monsieur--(from the depths of his turned-up collar) Good-night. - -A quarter of an hour later the sound of a carriage is heard. Madame is -ready, her coiffure suits her, she smiles at herself in the glass as she -slips the glove-stretchers into the twelve-button gloves. - -Monsieur has made a failure of his necktie and broken off three buttons. -Traces of decided ill-humor are stamped on his features. - -Monsieur--Come, let us go down, the carriage is waiting; it is a quarter -past eleven. (Aside.) Another sleepless night. Sharp, coachman; Rue de -la Pepiniere, number 224. - -They reach the street in question. The Rue de la Pepiniere is in a -tumult. Policemen are hurriedly making way through the crowd. In the -distance, confused cries and a rapidly approaching, rumbling sound are -heard. Monsieur thrusts his head out of the window. - -Monsieur--What is it, Jean? - -Coachman--A fire, Monsieur; here come the firemen. - -Monsieur--Go on all the same to number 224. - -Coachman--We are there, Monsieur; the fire is at number 224. - -Doorkeeper of the House--(quitting a group of people and approaching the -carriage)--You are, I presume, Monsieur, one of the guests of Madame -de Lyr? She is terror-stricken; the fire is in her rooms. She can not -receive any one. - -Madame--(excitedly)--It is scandalous. - -Monsieur--(humming)--Heart-breaking, heartbreaking! (To the coachman.) -Home again, quickly; I am all but asleep. (He stretches himself out -and turns up his collar.) ( Aside.) After all, I am the better for a -well-cooked partridge. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. A FALSE ALARM - -Every time I visit Paris, which, unhappily, is too often, it rains in -torrents. It makes no difference whether I change the time of starting -from that which I had fixed upon at first, stop on the way, travel -at night, resort, in short, to a thousand devices to deceive the -barometer-at ten leagues from Paris the clouds begin to pile up and I -get out of the train amidst a general deluge. - -On the occasion of my last visit I found myself as usual in the -street, followed by a street porter carrying my luggage and addressing -despairing signals to all the cabs trotting quickly past amid the -driving rain. After ten minutes of futile efforts a driver, more -sensible than the others, and hidden in his triple cape, checks his -horses. With a single bound I am beside the cab, and opening, the door -with a kind of frenzy, jump in. - -Unfortunately, while I am accomplishing all this on one side, a -gentleman, similarly circumstanced, opens the other door and also jumps -in. It is easy to understand that there ensues a collision. - -“Devil take you!” said my rival, apparently inclined to push still -farther forward. - -I was about to answer him, and pretty sharply, too, for I hail from the -south of France and am rather hotheaded, when our eyes met. We looked -one another in the face like two lions over a single sheep, and suddenly -we both burst out laughing. This angry gentleman was Oscar V., that dear -good fellow Oscar, whom I had not seen for ten years, and who is a very -old friend of mine, a charming fellow whom I used to play with as a boy. - -We embraced, and the driver, who was looking at us through the window, -shrugged his shoulders, unable to understand it all. The two porters, -dripping with water, stood, one at each door, with a trunk on his -shoulder. We had the luggage put on the cab and drove off to the Hotel -du Louvre, where Oscar insisted on dropping me. - -“But you are travelling, too, then?” said I to my friend, after the -first moments of expansion. “Don’t you live in Paris?” - -“I live in it as little as possible and have just come up from Les -Roches, an old-fashioned little place I inherited from my father, at -which I pass a great deal of the year. Oh! it is not a chateau; it is -rustic, countrified, but I like it, and would not change anything about -it. The country around is fresh and green, a clear little river flows -past about forty yards from the house, amid the trees; there is a mill -in the background, a spreading valley, a steeple and its weather-cock on -the horizon, flowers under the windows, and happiness in the house. Can -I grumble? My wife makes exquisite pastry, which is very agreeable to me -and helps to whiten her hands. By the way, I did not tell you that I am -married. My dear fellow, I came across an angel, and I rightly thought -that if I let her slip I should not find her equal. I did wisely. But I -want to introduce you to my wife and to show you my little place. When -will you come and see me? It is three hours from Paris--time to smoke a -couple of cigars. It is settled, then--I am going back to-morrow morning -and I will have a room ready for you. Give me your card and I will write -down my address on it.” - -All this was said so cordially that I could not resist my friend’s -invitation, and promised to visit him. - -Three or four days later, Paris being empty and the recollection of my -old companion haunting me, I felt a strong desire to take a peep at his -conjugal felicity and to see with my own eyes this stream, this mill, -this steeple, beside all which he was so happy. - -I reached Les Roches at about six in the evening and was charmed at the -very first glance. Oscar’s residence was a little Louis Quinze chateau -buried in the trees; irregularly built, but charmingly picturesque. It -had been left unaltered for a century at least, and everything, from -the blackened mansard roofs with their rococo weather-cocks, to the bay -windows with their tiny squares of glass and the fantastic escutcheon -over the door, was in keeping. Over the thick tiles of the somewhat -sunken roof, the rough-barked old chestnuts lazily stretched their -branches. Creepers and climbing roses wantoned over the front, framing -the windows, peeping into the garrets, and clinging to the waterspouts, -laden with large bunches of flowers which swayed gently in the air. Amid -all these pointed roofs and this profusion of verdure and trees the blue -sky could only be caught a glimpse of here and there. - -The first person I saw was Oscar, clad in white from head to foot, and -wearing a straw hat. He was seated on an enormous block of stone which -seemed part and parcel of the house, and appeared very much interested -in a fine melon which his gardener had just brought to him. No sooner -had he caught sight of me than he darted forward and grasped me by the -hand with such an expression of good-humor and affection that I said to -myself, “Yes, certainly he was not deceiving me, he is happy.” I found -him just as I had known him in his youth, lively, rather wild, but kind -and obliging. - -“Pierre,” said he to the gardener, “take this gentleman’s portmanteau to -the lower room,” and, as the gardener bestirred himself slowly and with -an effort, Oscar seized the portmanteau and swung it, with a jerk, on to -the shoulders of the poor fellow, whose legs bent under the weight. - -“Lazybones,” said Oscar, laughing heartily. “Ah! now I must introduce -you to my little queen. My wife, where is my wife?” - -He ran to the bell and pulled it twice. At once a fat cook with a red -face and tucked-up sleeves, and behind her a man-servant wiping a plate, -appeared at the ground-floor windows. Had they been chosen on purpose? -I do not know, but their faces and bearing harmonized so thoroughly with -the picture that I could not help smiling. - -“Where is your mistress?” asked Oscar, and as they did not answer -quickly enough he exclaimed, “Marie, Marie, here is my friend George.” - -A young girl, fair as a lily, appeared at a narrow, little window, the -one most garlanded by, flowers, on the first floor. She was clad in a -white dressing-gown of some particular shape; I could not at first make -out. With one hand she gathered its folds about her, and with the other -restrained her flowing hair. Hardly had she seen me when she blushed, -somewhat ashamed, no doubt, at having been surprised in the midst of -her toilet, and, giving a most embarrassed yet charming bow; hurriedly -disappeared. This vision completed the charm; it seemed to me that I had -suddenly been transported into fairy-land. I had fancied when strapping -my portmanteau that I should find my friend Oscar installed in one of -those pretty, little, smart-looking houses, with green shutters and gilt -lightning-conductor, dear to the countrified Parisian, and here I found -myself amid an ideal blending of time-worn stones hidden in flowers, -ancient gables, and fanciful ironwork reddened by rust. I was right -in the midst of one of Morin’s sketches, and, charmed and stupefied, I -stood for some moments with my eyes fixed on the narrow window at which -the fair girl had disappeared. - -“I call her my little queen,” said Oscar, taking my arm. “It is my wife. -Come this way, we shall meet my cousin who is fishing, and two other -friends who are strolling about in this direction, good fellows, only -they do not understand the country as I do--they have on silk stockings -and pumps, but it does not matter, does it? Would you like a pair of -slippers or a straw hat? - -“I hope you have brought some linen jackets. I won’t offer you a glass -of Madeira--we shall dine at once. Ah! my dear fellow, you have turned -up at the right moment; we are going to taste the first melon of the -year this evening.” - -“Unfortunately, I never eat melons, though I like to see others do so.” - -“Well, then, I will offer you consolation by seeking out a bottle of my -old Pomard for you. Between ourselves, I don’t give it to every one; -it is a capital wine which my poor father recommended to me on his -deathbed; poor father, his eyes were closed, and his head stretched back -on the pillow. I was sitting beside his bed, my hand in his, when I felt -it feebly pressed. His eyes half opened, and I saw him smile. Then -he said in a weak, slow, and the quavering voice of an old man who -is dying: ‘The Pomard at the farther end--on the left--you know, my -boy--only for friends.’ He pressed my hand again, and, as if exhausted, -closed his eyes, though I could see by the imperceptible motion of his -lips that he was still smiling inwardly. Come with me to the cellar,” - continued Oscar, after a brief silence, “at the farther end to the left, -you shall hold the lantern for me.” - -When we came up from the cellar, the bell was ringing furiously, and -flocks of startled birds were flying out of the chestnut-trees. It was -for dinner. All the guests were in the garden. Oscar introduced me in -his off-hand way, and I offered my arm to the mistress of the house to -conduct her to the dining-room. - -On examining my friend’s wife, I saw that my first impression had not -been erroneous--she was literally a little angel, and a little angel in -the shape of a woman, which is all the better. She was delicate, slender -as a young girl; her voice was as thrilling and harmonious as the -chaffinch, with an indefinable accent that smacked of no part of the -country in particular, but lent a charm to her slightest word. She had, -moreover, a way of speaking of her own, a childish and coquettish way -of modulating the ends of her sentences and turning her eyes toward her -husband, as if to seek for his approbation. She blushed every moment, -but at the same time her smile was so bewitching and her teeth so white -that she seemed to be laughing at herself. A charming little woman! Add -to this a strange yet tasteful toilette, rather daring, perhaps, but -suiting this little queen, so singular in herself. Her beautiful fair -hair, twisted up apparently at hazard, was fixed rather high up on the -head by a steel comb worn somewhat on one side; and her white muslin -dress trimmed with wide, flat ruches, cut square at the neck, short in -the skirt, and looped up all round, had a delicious eighteenth-century -appearance. The angel was certainly a trifle coquettish, but in her own -way, and yet her way was exquisite. - -Hardly were we seated at table when Oscar threw toward his little queen -a rapid glance, but one so full of happiness and-why should I not -say it?--love that I experienced a kind of shiver, a thrill of envy, -astonishment, and admiration, perhaps. He took from the basket of -flowers on the table a red rose, scarcely opened, and, pushing it toward -her, said with a smile: - -“For your hair, Madame.” - -The fair girl blushed deeply, took the flower, and, without hesitation, -quickly and dexterously stuck it in her hair, high up on the left, -just in the right spot, and, delightedly turning round to each of us, -repeated several times, amid bursts of laughter, “Is it right like -that?” - -Then she wafted a tiny kiss with the tips of her fingers to her husband, -as a child of twelve would have done, and gayly plunged her spoon into -the soup, turning up her little finger as she did so. - -The other guests had nothing very remarkable about them; they laughed -very good-naturedly at these childish ways, but seemed somewhat out of -place amid all this charming freedom from restraint. The cousin, above -all, the angler, with his white waistcoat, his blue tie, his full beard, -and his almond eyes, especially displeased me. He rolled his r’s like -an actor at a country theatre. He broke his bread into little bits and -nibbled them as he talked. I divined that the pleasure of showing off a -large ring he wore had something to do with this fancy for playing with -his bread. Once or twice I caught a glance of melancholy turned toward -the mistress of the house, but at first I did not take much notice of -it, my attention being attracted by the brilliant gayety of Oscar. - -It seemed to me, however, at the end of a minute or so, that this young -man was striving in a thousand ways to engage the attention of the -little queen. - -The latter, however, answered him in the most natural way in the world, -neither betraying constraint nor embarrassment. I was mistaken, no -doubt. Have you ever noticed, when you are suddenly brought into -the midst of a circle where you are unacquainted, how certain little -details, matters of indifference to every one else, assume importance in -your eyes? The first impression is based upon a number of trifles that -catch your attention at the outset. A stain in the ceiling, a nail in -the wall, a feature of your neighbor’s countenance impresses itself upon -your mind, installs itself there, assumes importance, and, in spite -of yourself, all the other observations subsequently made by you group -around this spot, this nail, this grimace. Think over it, dear reader, -and you will see that every opinion you may have as to a fact, a person, -or an object has been sensibly influenced by the recollection of the -little trifle that caught your eye at the first glance. What young -girl victim of first impressions has not refused one or two husbands on -account of a waistcoat too loose, a cravat badly tied, an inopportune -sneeze, a foolish smile, or a boot too pointed at the toe? - -One does not like admitting to one’s self that such trifles can serve as -a base to the opinion one has of any one, and one must seek attentively -in order to discover within one’s mind these unacknowledged germs. - -I recollect quite well that the first time I had the honor of calling -on Madame de M., I noticed that one of her teeth, the first molar on -the right, was quite black. I only caught a glimpse of the little black -monster, such was the care taken to hide it, yet I could not get -this discovery out of my head. I soon noticed that Madame de M. made -frightful grimaces to hide her tooth, and that she took only -the smallest possible mouthfuls at table to spare the nervous -susceptibilities of the little monster. - -I arrived at the pitch of accounting for all the mental and physical -peculiarities of Madame de M. by the presence of this slight blemish, -and despite myself this black tooth personified the Countess so well -that even now, although it has been replaced by another magnificent one, -twice as big and as white as the bottom of a plate, even now, I say, -Madame de M. can not open her mouth without my looking naturally at it. - -But to return to our subject. Amid all this conjugal happiness, so -delightfully surrounded, face to face with dear old Oscar, so good, so -confiding, so much in love with this little cherub in a Louis XV dress, -who carried grace and naivete to so strange a pitch, I had been struck -by the too well combed and foppish head of the cousin in the white -waistcoat. This head had attracted my attention like the stain on the -ceiling of which I spoke just now, like the Countess’s black tooth, and -despite myself I did not take my eyes off the angler as he passed the -silver blade of his knife through a slice of that indigestible fruit -which I like to see on the plates of others, but can not tolerate on my -own. - -After dinner, which lasted a very long time, we went into the garden, -where coffee had been served, and stretched ourselves out beatifically, -cigar in mouth. All was calm and silent about us, the insects had ceased -their music, and in an opaline sky little violet clouds were sleeping. - -Oscar, with a happy air, pointed out to me the famous mill, the quiet -valley, and farther on his loved stream, in which the sun, before -setting, was reflecting itself amid the reeds. Meanwhile the little -queen on her high heels flitted round the cups like a child playing -at party-giving, and with a thousand charming touches poured out the -boiling coffee, the odor of which blended deliciously with the perfume -of the flowers, the hay, and the woods. - -When she had finished she sat down beside her husband, so close that her -skirt half hid my friend, and unceremoniously taking the cigar from his -lips, held it at a distance, with a little pout, that meant, “Oh, the -horrid thing!” and knocked off with her little finger the ash which -fell on the gravel. Then she broke into a laugh, and put the cigar back -between the lips of her husband held out to her. - -It was charming. Oscar was no doubt accustomed to this, for he did not -seem astonished, but placed his hand on his wife’s shoulder, as one -would upon a child’s, and, kissing her on the forehead, said, “Thanks, -my dear.” - -“Yes, but you are only making fun of me,” said the young wife, in a -whisper, leaning her head against her husband’s arm. - -I could not help smiling, there was so much coaxing childishness and -grace in this little whispered sentence. I do not know why I turned -toward the cousin who had remained a little apart, smoking in silence. -He seemed to me rather pale; he took three or four sudden puffs, rose -suddenly under the evident influence of some moral discomfort, and -walked away beneath the trees. - -“What is the matter with cousin?” said Oscar, with some interest. “What -ails him?” - -“I don’t know,” answered the little queen, in the most natural manner in -the world, “some idea about fishing, no doubt.” - -Night began to fall; we had remained as I have said a long time at -table. It was about nine o’clock. The cousin returned and took the seat -he had occupied before, but from this moment it seemed to me that a -strange constraint crept in among us, a singular coolness showed itself. -The talk, so lively at first, slackened gradually and, despite all my -efforts to impart a little life to it, dragged wretchedly. I myself did -not feel very bright; I was haunted by the most absurd notions in the -world; I thought I had detected in the sudden departure of the cousin, -in his pallor, in his embarrassed movements, the expression of some -strong feeling which he had been powerless to hide. But how was it that -that adorable little woman with such a keen intelligent look did not -understand all this, since I understood it myself? Had not Oscar, -however confiding he might be, noted that the departure of the cousin -exactly coincided with the kiss he had given his wife? Were these two -blind, or did they pretend not to see, or was I myself the victim of -an illusion? However, conversation had died away; the mistress of the -house, singular symptom, was silent and serious, and Oscar wriggled in -his chair, like a man who is not altogether at ease. What was passing in -their minds? - -Soon we heard the clock in the drawing-room strike ten, and Oscar, -suddenly rising, said: “My dear fellow, in the country it is Liberty -Hall, you know; so I will ask your permission to go in--I am rather -tired this evening. George,” he added to me, “they will show you your -room; it is on the ground floor; I hope that you will be comfortable -there.” - -Everybody got up silently, and, after bidding one another good-night in -a somewhat constrained manner, sought their respective rooms. I thought, -I must acknowledge, that they went to bed rather too early at my -friend’s. I had no wish to sleep; I therefore examined my room, which -was charming. It was completely hung with an old figured tapestry framed -in gray wainscot. The bed, draped in dimity curtains, was turned down -and exhaled that odor of freshly washed linen which invites one to -stretch one’s self in it. On the table, a little gem dating from the -beginning of the reign of Louis XVI, were four or five books, evidently -chosen by Oscar and placed there for me. These little attentions touch -one, and naturally my thoughts recurred to the dear fellow, to the -strange incident of the evening, to the vexations and tortures hidden, -perhaps, by this apparent happiness. I was ridiculous that night--I -already pitied him, my poor friend. - -I felt quite touched, and, full of melancholy, went and leaned against -the sill of the open window. The moon had just risen, the sky was -beautifully clear, whiffs of delicious perfumes assailed my nostrils. I -saw in the shadow of the trees glowworms sparkling on the grass, and, in -the masses of verdure lit up mysteriously by the moon, I traced strange -shapes of fantastic monsters. There was, above all, a little pointed -roof surmounted by a weathercock, buried in the trees at about fifty -paces from my window, which greatly interested me. I could not in the -obscurity make out either door or windows belonging to this singular -tower. Was it an old pigeon-house, a tomb, a deserted summer-house? I -could not tell, but its little pointed roof, with a round dormer window, -was extremely graceful. Was it chance or an artist lull of taste that -had covered this tower with creepers and flowers, and surrounded it with -foliage in such capricious fashion that it seemed to be hiding itself -in order to catch all glances? I was gazing at all this when I heard -a faint noise in the shrubbery. I looked in that direction and I -saw--really, it was an anxious moment--I saw a phantom clad in a white -robe and walking with mysterious and agitated rapidity. At a turning -of the path the moon shone on this phantom. Doubt was impossible; I had -before my eyes my friend’s wife. Her gait no longer had that coquettish -ease which I had noticed, but clearly indicated the agitation due to -some strong emotion. - -I strove to banish the horrible suspicion which suddenly forced itself -into my mind. “No,” I said to myself, “so much innocence and beauty can -not be capable of deception; no doubt she has forgotten her fan or her -embroidery, on one of the benches there.” But instead of making her way -toward the benches I noticed on the right, the young wife turned to -the left, and soon disappeared in the shadow of the grove in which was -hidden the mysterious turret. - -My heart ached. “Where is she going, the hapless woman?” I exclaimed -to myself. “At any rate, I will not let her imagine any one is watching -her.” And I hurriedly blew out my candle. I wanted to close my window, -go to bed, and see nothing more, but an invincible curiosity took me -back to the window. I had only been there a few minutes when I plainly -distinguished halting and timid footsteps on the gravel. I could see no -one at first, but there was no doubt that the footsteps were those of a -man. I soon had a proof that I was not mistaken; the elongated outline -of the cousin showed up clearly against the dark mass of shrubbery. I -should have liked to have stopped him, the wretch, for his intention was -evident; he was making his way toward the thicket in which the little -queen had disappeared. I should have liked to shout to him, “You are -a villain; you shall go no farther.” But had I really any right to act -thus? I was silent, but I coughed, however, loud enough to be heard by -him. - -He suddenly paused in his uneasy walk, looked round on all sides with -visible anxiety, then, seized by I know not what impulse, darted toward -the pavilion. I was overwhelmed. What ought I to do? Warn my friend, my -childhood’s companion? Yes, no doubt, but I felt ashamed to pour despair -into the mind of this good fellow and to cause a horrible exposure. “If -he can be kept in ignorance,” I said to myself, “and then perhaps I am -wrong--who knows? Perhaps this rendezvous is due to the most natural -motive possible.” - -I was seeking to deceive myself, to veil the evidence of my own eyes, -when suddenly one of the house doors opened noisily, and Oscar--Oscar -himself, in all the disorder of night attire, his hair rumpled, and his -dressing-gown floating loosely, passed before my window. He ran rather -than walked; but the anguish of his heart was too plainly revealed in -the strangeness of his movements. He knew all. I felt that a mishap was -inevitable. “Behold the outcome of all his happiness, behold the bitter -poison enclosed in so fair a vessel!” All these thoughts shot through -my mind like arrows. It was necessary above all to delay the explosion, -were it only for a moment, a second, and, beside myself, without giving -myself time to think of what I was going to say to him, I cried in a -sharp imperative tone: - -“Oscar, come here; I want to speak to you.” - -He stopped as if petrified. He was ghastly pale, and, with an infernal -smile, replied, “I have no time-later on.” - -“Oscar, you must, I beg of you--you are mistaken.” - -At these words he broke into a fearful laugh. - -“Mistaken--mistaken!” - -And he ran toward the pavilion. - -Seizing the skirt of his dressing-gown, I held him tightly, exclaiming: - -“Don’t go, my dear fellow, don’t go; I beg of you on my knees not to -go.” - -By way of reply he gave me a hard blow on the arm with his fist, -exclaiming: - -“What the devil is the matter with you?” - -“I tell you that you can not go there, Oscar,” I said, in a voice which -admitted of no contradiction. - -“Then why did not you tell me at once.” - -And feverishly snatching his dressing-gown from my grasp, he began to -walk frantically up and down. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. I SUP WITH MY WIFE - -That evening, which chanced to be Christmas Eve, it was infernally cold. -The snow was falling in heavy flakes, and, driven by the wind, beat -furiously against the window panes. The distant chiming of the -bells could just be heard through this heavy and woolly atmosphere. -Foot-passengers, wrapped in their cloaks, slipped rapidly along, keeping -close to the house and bending their heads to the wintry blast. - -Enveloped in my dressing-gown, and tapping with my fingers on the -window-panes, I was smiling at the half-frozen passers-by, the north -wind, and the snow, with the contented look of a man who is in a warm -room and has on his feet comfortable flannel-lined slippers, the soles -of which are buried in a thick carpet. At the fireside my wife was -cutting out something and smiling at me from time to time; a new book -awaited me on the mantelpiece, and the log on the hearth kept shooting -out with a hissing sound those little blue flames which invite one to -poke it. - -“There is nothing that looks more dismal than a man tramping through the -snow, is there?” said I to my wife. - -“Hush,” said she, lowering the scissors which she held in her hand; and, -after smoothing her chin with her fingers, slender, rosy, and plump at -their tips, she went on examining the pieces of stuff she had cut out. - -“I say that it is ridiculous to go out in the cold when it is so easy to -remain at home at one’s own fireside.” - -“Hush.” - -“But what are you doing that is so important?” - -“I--I am cutting out a pair of braces for you,” and she set to work -again. But, as in cutting out she kept her head bent, I noticed, on -passing behind her, her soft, white neck, which she had left bare that -evening by dressing her hair higher than usual. A number of little downy -hairs were curling there. This kind of down made me think of those ripe -peaches one bites so greedily. I drew near, the better to see, and I -kissed the back of my wife’s neck. - -“Monsieur!” said Louise, suddenly turning round. - -“Madame,” I replied, and we both burst out laughing. - -“Christmas Eve,” said I. - -“Do you wish to excuse yourself and to go out?” - -“Do you mean to complain?” - -“Yes, I complain that you are not sufficiently impressed by the fact of -its being Christmas Eve. The ding-ding-dong of the bells of Notre Dame -fails to move you; and just now when the magic-lantern passed beneath -the window, I looked at you while pretending to work, and you were quite -calm.” - -“I remain calm when the magic-lantern is going by! Ah! my dear, you are -very severe on me, and really--” - -“Yes, yes, jest about it, but it was none the less true that the -recollections of your childhood have failed.” - -“Now, my dear, do you want me to leave my boots out on the hearth this -evening on going to bed? Do you want me to call in the magic-lantern -man, and to look out a big sheet and a candle end for him, as my poor -mother used to do? I can still see her as she used to entrust her white -sheet to him. ‘Don’t make a hole in it, at least,’ she would say. How -we used to clap our hands in the mysterious darkness! I can recall all -those joys, my dear, but you know so many other things have happened -since then. Other pleasures have effaced those.” - -“Yes, I can understand, your bachelor pleasures; and, there, I am -sure that this Christmas Eve is the first you have passed by your own -fireside, in your dressing-gown, without supper; for you used to sup on -Christmas Eve.” - -“To sup, to sup.” - -“Yes, you supped; I will wager you did.” - -“I have supped two or three times, perhaps, with friends, you know; two -sous’ worth of roasted chestnuts and--” - -“A glass of sugar and water.” - -“Oh, pretty nearly so. It was all very simple; as far as I can -recollect. We chatted a little and went to bed.” - -“And he says that without a smile. You have never breathed a word to me -of all these simple pleasures.” - -“But, my dear, all that I am telling you is strictly true. I remember -that once, however, it was rather lively. It was at Ernest’s, and we had -some music. Will you push that log toward me? But, never mind; it will -soon be midnight, and that is the hour when reasonable people--” - -Louise, rising and throwing her arms around my neck, interrupted me -with: “Well, I don’t want to be reasonable, I want to wipe out all your -memories of chestnuts and glasses of sugar and water.” - -Then pushing me into my dressing-room she locked the door. - -“But, my dear, what is the matter with you?” said I through the keyhole. - -“I want ten minutes, no more. Your newspaper is on the mantelpiece; you -have not read it this evening. There are some matches in the corner.” - -I heard a clatter of crockery, a rustling of silk my wife mad? - -Louise soon came and opened the door. - -“Don’t scold me for having shut you up,” she said, kissing me. “Look how -I have beautified myself? Do you recognize the coiffure you are so -fond of, the chignon high, and the neck bare? Only as my poor neck is -excessively timid, it would have never consented to show itself thus if -I had not encouraged it a little by wearing my dress low. And then one -must put on full uniform to sup with the authorities.” - -“To sup?” - -“Certainly, to sup with you; don’t you see my illuminations and this -table covered with flowers and a heap of good things? I had got it all -ready in the alcove; but you understand that to roll the table up to the -fire and make a little toilette, I wanted to be alone. Come, Monsieur, -take your place at table. I am as hungry as a hunter. May I offer you a -wing of cold chicken?” - -“Your idea is charming, but, dear, really I am ashamed; I am in my -dressing-gown.” - -“Take off your dressing-gown if it incommodes you, Monsieur, but don’t -leave this chicken wing on my hands. I want to serve you myself.” And, -rising, she turned her sleeves up to the elbow, and placed her table -napkin on her arm. - -“It is thus that the waiters at the restaurant do it, is it not?” - -“Exactly; but, waiter, allow me at least to kiss your hand.” - -“I have no time,” said she, laughing, sticking the corkscrew into the -neck of the bottle. “Chambertin--it is a pretty name; and then do you -remember that before our marriage (how hard this cork is!) you told me -that you liked it on account of a poem by Alfred de Musset? which, -by the way, you have not let me read yet. Do you see the two little -Bohemian glasses which I bought expressly for this evening? We will -drink each other’s health in them.” - -“And his, too, eh?” - -“The heir’s, poor dear love of an heir! I should think so. And then I -will put away the two glasses against this time next year; they shall -be our Christmas Eve glasses? Every year we will sup like this together, -however old we may get.” - -“But, my dear, how about the time when we have no longer any teeth?” - -“Well, we will sup on good strong soups; it will be very nice, all the -same. Another piece, please, with some of the jelly. Thanks.” - -As she held out her plate I noticed her arm, the outline of which was -lost in lace. - -“Why are you looking up my sleeve instead of eating?” - -“I am looking at your arm, dear. You are charming, let me tell you, this -evening. That coiffure suits you so well, and that dress which I was -unacquainted with.” - -“Well, when one seeks to make a conquest--” - -“How pretty you look, pet!” - -“Is it true that you think me charming, pretty, and a pet this evening? -Well, then,” lowering her eyes and smiling at her bracelets, “in that -case I do not see why--” - -“What is it you do not see, dear?” - -“I do not see any reason why you should not come and give me just a -little kiss.” - -And as the kiss was prolonged, she said to me, amid bursts of laughter, -her head thrown back, and showing the double row of her white teeth: “I -should like some pie; yes, some brie! You will break my Bohemian glass, -the result of my economy. You always cause some mishap when you want to -kiss me. Do you recollect at Madame de Brill’s ball, two days before -our marriage, how you tore my skirt while waltzing in the little -drawing-room?” - -“Because it is difficult to do two things at once-to keep step and to -kiss one’s partner.” - -“I recollect, too, when mamma asked how my skirt had got torn, I felt -that I was blushing up to my ears. And Madame D., that old jaundiced -fairy, who said to me with her Lenten smile, ‘How flushed you are -tonight, my dear child!’ I could have strangled her! I said it was the -key of the door that had caught it. I looked at you out of the corner of -my eye; you were pulling your moustache and seemed greatly annoyed--you -are keeping all the truffles for yourself; that is kind--not that one; -I want the big black one there in the corner-it was very wrong all the -same, for--oh! not quite full--I do not want to be tipsy--for, after -all, if we had not been married--and that might have happened, for -you know they say that marriages only depend on a thread. Well, if the -thread had not been strong enough, I should have remained a maid with a -kiss on my shoulder, and a nice thing that would have been.” - -“Bah! it does not stain.” - -“Yes, Monsieur, it does, I beg your pardon. It stains so much that there -are husbands, I believe, who even shed their blood to wash out such -little stains.” - -“But I was joking, dear. Hang it!--don’t you think--yes, certainly, hang -it!” - -“Ah! that’s right, I like to see you angry. You are a trifle jealous, -dear--oh! that is too bad; I asked you for the big black one, and you -have gone and eaten it.” - -“I am sorry, dear; I quite forgot about it.” - -“It was the same at the Town Hall, where I was obliged to jog your elbow -to make you answer ‘Yes’ to the Mayor’s kind words.” - -“Kind!” - -“Yes, kind. I thought him charming. No one could have been more graceful -than he was in addressing me. ‘Mademoiselle, will you consent to -accept for your husband that great, ugly fellow standing beside you?’” - (Laughing, with her mouth full.) “I wanted to say to him, ‘Let us come -to an understanding, Mr. Mayor; there is something to be said on either -side.’ I am choking!”--she bursts out laughing--“I was wrong not to -impose restrictions. Your health, dear! I am teasing you; it is very -stupid. I said ‘Yes’ with all my heart, I can assure you, dear, and I -thought the word too weak a one. When I think that all women, even the -worst, say that word, I feel ashamed not to have found another.” Holding -out her glass: “To our golden wedding--will you touch glasses?” - -“And to his baptism, little mamma.” - -In a low voice: “Tell me--are you sorry you married me?” - -Laughing, “Yes.” Kissing her on the shoulder, “I think I have found the -stain again; it was just there.” - -“It is two in the morning, the fire is out, and I am a little--you won’t -laugh now? Well, I am a little dizzy.” - -“A capital pie, eh?” - -“A capital pie! We shall have a cup of tea for breakfast tomorrow, shall -we not?” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. FROM ONE THING TO ANOTHER - - SCENE.--The country in autumn--The wind is blowing without--MADAME, - seated by the fireside in a large armchair, is engaged in needlework - --MONSIEUR, seated in front of her, is watching the flames of the - fire--A long silence. - -Monsieur--Will you pass me the poker, my dear? - -Madame--(humming to herself)--“And yet despite so many fears.” (Spoken.) -Here is the poker. (Humming.) “Despite the painful----” - -Monsieur--That is by Mehul, is it not, my dear? Ah! that is music--I -saw Delaunay Riquier in Joseph. (He hums as he makes up the fire.) “Holy -pains.” (Spoken.) One wonders why it does not burn, and, by Jove! it -turns out to be green wood. Only he was a little too robust--Riquier. A -charming voice, but he is too stout. - -Madame--(holding her needlework at a distance, the better to judge of -the effect)--Tell me, George, would you have this square red or black? -You see, the square near the point. Tell me frankly. - -Monsieur--(singing) “If you can repent.” (Spoken without turning his -head.) Red, my dear; red. I should not hesitate; I hate black. - -Madame--Yes, but if I make that red it will lead me to--(She reflects.) - -Monsieur--Well, my dear, if it leads you away, you must hold fast to -something to save yourself. - -Madame--Come, George, I am speaking seriously. You know that if this -little square is red, the point can not remain violet, and I would not -change that for anything. - -Monsieur--(slowly and seriously)--My dear, will you follow the advice -of an irreproachable individual, to whose existence you have linked your -fate? Well, make that square pea-green, and so no more about it. Just -look whether a coal fire ever looked like that. - -Madame--I should only be too well pleased to use up my pea-green wool; I -have a quantity of it. - -Monsieur--Then where lies the difficulty? - -Madame--The difficulty is that pea-green is not sufficiently religious. - -Monsieur--Hum! (Humming.) Holy pains! (Spoken.) Will you be kind -enough to pass the bellows? Would it be indiscreet to ask why the poor -pea-green, which does not look very guilty, has such an evil reputation? -You are going in for religious needlework, then, my dear? - -Madame--Oh, George! I beg of you to spare me your fun. I have been -familiar with it for a long time, you know, and it is horribly -disagreeable to me. I am simply making a little mat for the -confessional-box of the vicar. There! are you satisfied? You know what -it is for, and you must understand that under the present circumstances -pea-green would be altogether out of place. - -Monsieur--Not the least in the world. I can swear to you that I could -just as well confess with pea-green under my feet. It is true that I am -naturally of a resolute disposition. Use up your wool; I can assure -you that the vicar will accept it all the same. He does not know how to -refuse. (He plies the bellows briskly.) - -Madame--You are pleased, are you not? - -Monsieur--Pleased at what, dear? - -Madame--Pleased at having vented your sarcasm, at having passed a jest -on one who is absent. Well, I tell you that you are a bad man, seeing -that you seek to shake the faith of those about you. My beliefs had -need be very fervent, principles strong, and have real virtue, to resist -these incessant attacks. Well, why are you looking at me like that? - -Monsieur--I want to be converted, my little apostle. You are so -pretty when you speak out; your eyes glisten, your voice rings, your -gestures--I am sure that you could speak like that for a long time, eh? -(He kisses her hand, and takes two of her curls and ties them under hey -chin.) You are looking pretty, my pet. - -Madame--Oh! you think you have reduced me to silence because you have -interrupted me. Ah! there, you have tangled my hair. How provoking you -are! It will take me an hour to put it right. You are not satisfied with -being a prodigy of impiety, but you must also tangle my hair. Come, hold -out your hands and take this skein of wool. - -Monsieur--(sitting down on a stool, which he draws as closely as -possible to Madame, and holding up his hands) My little Saint John! - -Madame--Not so close, George; not so close. (She smiles despite -herself.) How silly you are! Please be careful; you will break my wool. - -Monsieur--Your religious wool. - -Madame--Yes, my religious wool. (She gives him a little pat on the -cheek.) Why do you part your hair so much on one side, George? It would -suit you much better in the middle, here. Yes, you may kiss me, but -gently. - -Monsieur--Can you guess what I am thinking of? - -Madame--How do you imagine I could guess that? - -Monsieur--Well, I am thinking of the barometer which is falling and of -the thermometer which is falling too. - -Madame--You see, cold weather is coming on and my mat will never be -finished. Come, let us make haste. - -Monsieur--I was thinking of the thermometer which is falling and of my -room which faces due north. - -Madame--Did you not choose it yourself? My wool! Good gracious! my wool! -Oh! the wicked wretch! - -Monsieur--In summer my room with the northern aspect is, no doubt, very -pleasant; but when autumn comes, when the wind creeps in, when the rain -trickles down the windowpanes, when the fields, the country, seem hidden -under a huge veil of sadness, when the spoils of our woodlands strew the -earth, when the groves have lost their mystery and the nightingale her -voice--oh! then the room with the northern aspect has a very northern -aspect, and-- - -Madame--(continuing to wind her wool)--What nonsense you are talking! - -Monsieur--I protest against autumns, that is all. God’s sun is hidden -and I seek another. Is not that natural, my little fairhaired saint, my -little mystic lamb, my little blessed palmbranch? This new sun I find -in you, pet--in your look, in the sweet odor of your person, in the -rustling of your skirt, in the down on your neck which one notices by -the lamp-light when you bend over the vicar’s mat, in your nostril which -expands when my lips approach yours-- - -Madame--Will you be quiet, George? It is Friday, and Ember week. - -Monsieur--And your dispensation? (He kisses her.) Don’t you see that -your hand shakes, that you blush, that your heart is beating? - -Madame--George, will you have done, sir? (She pulls away her hand, -throws herself back in the chair, and avoids her husband’s glance.) - -Monsieur--Your poor little heart beats, and it is right, dear; it knows -that autumn is the time for confidential chats and evening caresses, the -time for kisses. And you know it too, for you defend yourself poorly, -and I defy you to look me in the face. Come! look me in the face. - -Madame--(she suddenly leans toward hey husband, the ball of wool rolling -into the fireplace, the pious task falling to the ground. She takes his -head between her hands)--Oh, what a dear, charming husband you would be -if you had-- - -Monsieur--If I had what? Tell me quickly. - -Madame--If you had a little religion. I should only ask for such a -little at the beginning. It is not very difficult, I can assure you. -While, now, you are really too-- - -Monsieur--Pea-green, eh? - -Madame--Yes, pea-green, you great goose. (She laughs frankly.) - -Monsieur--(lifting his hands in the air)--Sound trumpets! Madame has -laughed; Madame is disarmed. Well, my snow-white lamb, I am going to -finish my story; listen properly, there, like that--your hands here, my -head so. Hush! don’t laugh. I am speaking seriously. As I was saying to -you, the north room is large but cold, poetic but gloomy, and I will add -that two are not too many in this wintry season to contend against the -rigors of the night. I will further remark that if the sacred ties of -marriage have a profoundly social significance, it is--do not interrupt -me--at that hour of one’s existence when one shivers on one’s solitary -couch. - -Madame--You can not be serious. - -Monsieur--Well, seriously, I should like the vicar’s mat piously spread -upon your bed, to keep us both warm together, this very evening. I wish -to return as speedily as possible to the intimacy of conjugal life. Do -you hear how the wind blows and whistles through the doors? The fire -splutters, and your feet are frozen. (He takes her foot in his hands.) - -Madame--But you are taking off my slipper, George. - -Monsieur--Do you think, my white lamb, that I am going to leave your -poor little foot in that state? Let it stay in my hand to be warmed. -Nothing is so cold as silk. What! openwork stockings? My dear, you are -rather dainty about your foot-gear for a Friday. Do you know, pet, you -can not imagine how gay I wake up when the morning sun shines into my -room. You shall see. I am no longer a man; I am a chaffinch; all the -joys of spring recur to me. I laugh, I sing, I speechify, I tell tales -to make one die of laughter. Sometimes I even dance. - -Madame--Come now! I who in the morning like neither noise nor broad -daylight--how little all that suits! - -Monsieur--(suddenly changing his tone)--Did I say that I liked all that? -The morning sun? Never in autumn, my sweet dove, never. I awake, on the -contrary full of languor and poesy; I was like that in my very cradle. -We will prolong the night, and behind the drawn curtain, behind the -closed shutter, we will remain asleep without sleeping. Buried in -silence and shadow, delightfully stretched beneath your warm eider-down -coverlets, we will slowly enjoy the happiness of being together, and we -will wish one another good-morning only on the stroke of noon. You do -not like noise, dear. I will not say a word. Not a murmur to disturb -your unfinished dream and warn you that you are no longer sleeping; -not a breath to recall you to reality; not a movement to rustle the -coverings. I will be silent as a shade, motionless as a statue; and if -I kiss you--for, after all, I have my weaknesses--it will be done with -a thousand precautions, my lips will scarcely brush your sleeping -shoulder; and if you quiver with pleasure as you stretch out your arms, -if your eye half uncloses at the murmur of my kiss, if your lips smile -at me, if I kiss you, it would be because you would like me to, and I -shall have nothing to reproach myself with. - -Madame--(her eyes half closed, leaning back in hey armchair, her head -bent with emotion, she places her hands before his mouth. In a low -voice)--Hush, hush! Don’t say that, dear; not another word! If you knew -how wrong it was! - -Monsieur--Wrong! What is there that is wrong? Is your heart of marble or -adamant, that you do not see that I love you, you naughty child? That -I hold out my arms to you, that I long to clasp you to my heart, and to -fall asleep in your hair? What is there more sacred in the world than to -love one’s wife or love one’s husband? (Midnight strikes.) - -Madame--(she suddenly changes hey expression at the sound, throws her -arms round her husband, and hurriedly kisses him thrice)--You thought I -did not love you, eh, dear? Oh, yes! I love you. Great baby! not to see -that I was waiting the time. - -Monsieur--What time, dear? - -Madame--The time. It has struck twelve, see. (She blushes crimson.) -Friday is over. (She holds out her hand for him to kiss.) - -Monsieur--Are you sure the clock is not five minutes fast, love? - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. A LITTLE CHAT - - MADAME F-----MADAME H------ - - (These ladies are seated at needlework as they talk.) - -Madame F--For myself, you know, my dear, I fulfil my duties tolerably, -still I am not what would be called a devotee. By no means. Pass me your -scissors. Thanks. - -Madame H--You are quite welcome, dear. What a time those little squares -of lace must take. I am like yourself in respect of religion; in the -first place, I think that nothing should be overdone. Have you ever-I -have never spoken to any one on the subject, but I see your ideas are so -in accordance with my own that-- - -Madame F--Come, speak out, dear; you trust me a little, I hope. - -Madame H--Well, then, have you--tell me truly--ever had any doubts? - -Madame F--(after reflecting for a moment)--Doubts! No. And you? - -Madame H--I have had doubts, which has been a real grief to me. Heavens! -how I have wept. - -Madame F--I should think so, my poor dear. For my own part, my faith is -very strong. These doubts must have made you very unhappy. - -Madame H--Terribly so. You know, it seems as if everything failed you; -there is a vacancy all about you--I have never spoken about it to my -husband, of course--Leon is a jewel of a man, but he will not listen to -anything of that kind. I can still see him, the day after our marriage; -I was smoothing my hair--broad bands were then worn, you know. - -Madame F--Yes, yes; they were charming. You will see that we shall go -back to them. - -Madame H--I should not be surprised; fashion is a wheel that turns. -Leon, then, said to me the day after our wedding: “My dear child, I -shall not hinder you going to church, but I beg you, for mercy’s sake, -never to say a word to me about it.” - -Madame F--Really, Monsieur H. said that to you? - -Madame H--Upon my honor. Oh! my husband is all that is most--or, if you -prefer it, all that is least-- - -Madame F--Yes, yes, I understand. That is a grief, you know. Mine is -only indifferent. From time to time he says some disagreeable things to -me on the question, but I am sure he could be very easily brought back -to the right. At the first illness he has, you shall see. When he has -only a cold in the head, I notice the change. You have not seen my -thimble? - -Madame H--Here it is. Do not be too sure of that, dear; men are not to -be brought back by going “chk, chk” to them, like little chickens. And -then, though I certainly greatly admire the men who observe religious -practices, you know me well enough not to doubt that--I think, as I told -you, that nothing should be exaggerated. And yourself, pet, should you -like to see your husband walking before the banner with a great wax -taper in his right hand and a bouquet of flowers in his left? - -Madame F--Oh! no, indeed. Why not ask me at once whether I should like -to see Leon in a black silk skull cap, with cotton in his ears and a -holy water sprinkler in his hand? One has no need to go whining about a -church with one’s nose buried in a book to be a pious person; there is a -more elevated form of religion, which is that of--of refined people, you -know. - -Madame H--Ah! when you speak like that, I am of your opinion. I think, -for instance, that there is nothing looks finer than a man while the -host is being elevated. Arms crossed, no book, head slightly bowed, -grave look, frock coat buttoned up. Have you seen Monsieur de P. at -mass? How well he looks! - -Madame F--He is such a fine man, and, then, he dresses so well. Have -you seen him on horseback? Ah! so you have doubts; but tell me what they -are, seeing we are indulging in confidences. - -Madame H--I can hardly tell you. Doubts, in short; about hell, for -instance, I have had horrible doubts. Oh! but do not let us speak about -that; I believe it is wrong even to think of it. - -Madame F--I have very broad views on that point; I never think about it. -Besides, my late confessor helped me. “Do not seek too much,” he always -said to me, “do not try to understand that which is unfathomable.” - You did not know Father Gideon? He was a jewel of a confessor; I was -extremely pleased with him. Not too tedious, always discreet, and, above -all, well-bred. He turned monk from a romantic cause--a penitent was -madly in love with him. - -Madame H--Impossible! - -Madame F--Yes, really. What! did you not know about it? The success -of the monastery was due to that accident. Before the coming of Father -Gideon it vegetated, but on his coming the ladies soon flocked there -in crowds. They organized a little guild, entitled “The Ladies of the -Agony.” They prayed for the Chinese who had died without confession, and -wore little death’s heads in aluminum as sleeve-links. It became very -fashionable, as you are aware, and the good fathers organized, in turn, -a registry for men servants; and the result is that, from one thing -leading to another, the community has become extremely wealthy. I have -even heard that one of the most important railway stations in Paris is -shortly to be moved, so that the size of their garden can be increased, -which is rather restricted at present. - -Madame H--As to that, it is natural enough that men should want a -place to walk in at home; but what I do not understand is that a woman, -however pious she may be, should fall in love with a priest. It is all -very well, but that is no longer piety; it is--fanaticism. I venerate -priests, I can say so truly, but after all I can not imagine myself--you -will laugh at me--ha, ha, ha! - -Madame F--Not at all. Ha, ha, ha! what a child you are! - -Madame H--(working with great briskness)--Well, I can not imagine that -they are men--like the others. - -Madame F--(resuming work with equal ardor)--And yet, my dear, people say -they are. - -Madame H--There are so many false reports set afloat. (A long silence.) - -Madame F--(in a discreet tone of voice)--After all, there are priests -who have beards--the Capuchins, for instance. - -Madame H--Madame de V. has a beard right up to her eyes, so that counts -for nothing, dear. - -Madame F--That counts for nothing. I do not think so. In the first -place, Madame de V.’s beard is not a perennial beard; her niece told me -that she sheds her moustaches every autumn. What can a beard be that can -not stand the winter? A mere trifle. - -Madame H--A mere trifle that is horribly ugly, my dear. - -Madame F--Oh! if Madame de V. had only moustaches to frighten away -people, one might still look upon her without sorrow, but-- - -Madame H--I grant all that. Let us allow that the Countess’s moustache -and imperial are a nameless species of growth. I do not attach much -importance to the point, you understand. She has a chin of heartbreaking -fertility, that is all. - -Madame F--To return to what we were saying, how is it that the men -who are strongest, most courageous, most manly--soldiers, in fact--are -precisely those who have most beard? - -Madame H--That is nonsense, for then the pioneers would be braver than -the Generals; and, in any case, there is not in France, I am sure, a -General with as much beard as a Capuchin. You have never looked at a -Capuchin then? - -Madame F--Oh, yes! I have looked at one quite close. It is a rather -funny story. Fancy Clementine’s cook having a brother a Capuchin--an -ex-jeweller, a very decent man. In consequence of misfortunes in -business--it was in 1848, business was at a stand-still--in short, he -lost his senses--no, he did not lose his senses, but he threw himself -into the arms of Heaven. - -Madame H--Oh! I never knew that! When? Clementine-- - -Madame F--I was like you, I would not believe it, but one day Clementine -said to me: “Since you will not believe in my Capuchin, come and see me -tomorrow about three o’clock; he will be paying a visit to his sister. -Don’t have lunch first; we will lunch together.” Very good. I went the -next day with Louise, who absolutely insisted upon accompanying me, and -I found at Clementine’s five or six ladies installed in the drawing-room -and laughing like madcaps. They had all come to see the Capuchin. -“Well,” said I, as I went in, when they all began to make signs to me -and whisper, “Hush, hush!” He was in the kitchen. - -Madame H--And what was he like? - -Madame F--Oh! very nice, except his feet; you know how it always gives -one a chill to look at their feet; but, in short, he was very amiable. -He was sent for into the drawing-room, but he would not take anything -except a little biscuit and a glass of water, which took away our -appetites. He was very lively; told us that we were coquettes with our -little bonnets and our full skirts. He was very funny, always a little -bit of the jeweller at the bottom, but with plenty of good nature and -frankness. He imitated the buzzing of a fly for us; it was wonderful. He -also wanted to show us a little conjuring trick, but he needed two corks -for it, and unfortunately his sister could only find one. - -Madame H--No matter, I can not understand Clementine engaging a servant -like that. - -Madame F--Why? The brother is a guarantee. - -Madame H--Of morality, I don’t say no; but it seems to me that a girl -like that can not be very discreet in her ways. - -Madame F--How do you make that out? - -Madame H--I don’t know, I can not reason the matter out, but it seems to -me that it must be so, that is all,... besides, I should not like to see -a monk in my kitchen, close to the soup. Oh, mercy! no! - -Madame F--What a child you are! - -Madame H--That has nothing to do with religious feelings, my dear; I do -not attack any dogma. Ah! if I were to say, for instance--come now, if I -were to say, what now? - -Madame F--In point of fact, what really is dogma? - -Madame H--Well, it is what can not be attacked. Thus, for instance, a -thing that is evident, you understand me, is unassailable,... or else it -should be assailed,... in short, it can not be attacked. That is why it -is monstrous to allow the Jewish religion and the Protestant religion in -France, because these religions can be assailed, for they have no dogma. -I give you this briefly, but in your prayer-book you will find the list -of dogmas. I am a rod of iron as regards dogmas. My husband, who, as I -said, has succeeded in inspiring me with doubts on many matters--without -imagining it, for he has never required anything of me; I must do him -that justice--but who, at any rate, has succeeded in making me neglect -many things belonging to religion, such as fasting, vespers, sermons,... -confession. - -Madame F--Confession! Oh! my dear, I should never have believed that. - -Madame H--It is in confidence, dear pet, that I tell you this. You will -swear never to speak of it? - -Madame F--Confession! Oh! yes, I swear it. Come here, and let me kiss -you. - -Madame H--You pity me, do you not? - -Madame F--I can not pity you too much, for I am absolutely in the same -position. - -Madame H--You, too! Good heavens! how I love you. What can one do, eh? -Must one not introduce some plan of conciliation into the household, -sacrifice one’s belief a little to that of one’s husband? - -Madame F--No doubt. For instance, how would you have me go to high mass, -which is celebrated at my parish church at eleven o’clock exactly? That -is just our breakfast time. Can I let my husband breakfast alone? He -would never hinder me from going to high mass, he has said so a thousand -times, only he has always added, “When you want to go to mass during -breakfast time, I only ask one thing--it is to give me notice the day -before, so that I may invite some friends to keep me company.” - -Madame H--But only fancy, pet, our two husbands could not be more alike -if they were brothers. Leon has always said, “My dear little chicken--” - -Madame F--Ha! ha! ha! - -Madame H--Yes, that is his name for me; you know how lively he is. He -has always said to me, then, “My dear little chicken, I am not a man to -do violence to your opinions, but in return give way to me as regards -some of your pious practices.” I only give you the mere gist of it; it -was said with a thousand delicacies, which I suppress. And I have agreed -by degrees,... so that, while only paying very little attention to the -outward observances of religion, I have remained, as I told you, a bar -of iron as regards dogmas. Oh! as to that, I would not give way an inch, -a hair-breadth, and Leon is the first to tell me that I am right. After -all, dogma is everything; practice, well, what would you? If I could -bring Leon round, it would be quite another thing. How glad I am to have -spoken to you about all this. - -Madame F--Have we not been chattering? But it is half-past five, and I -must go and take my cinchona bark. Thirty minutes before meals, it is a -sacred duty. Will you come, pet? - -Madame H--Stop a moment, I have lost my thimble again and must find it. - - - - -BOOK 3. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. THE HOT-WATER BOTTLE - -When midnight strikes, when the embers die away into ashes, when the -lamp burns more feebly and your eyes close in spite of yourself, the -best thing to do, dear Madame, is to go to bed. - -Get up from your armchair, take off your bracelets, light your -rosecolored taper, and proceed slowly, to the soft accompaniment of your -trailing skirt, rustling across the carpet, to your dressing-room, that -perfumed sanctuary in which your beauty, knowing itself to be alone, -raises its veils, indulges in self-examination, revels in itself and -reckons up its treasures as a miser does his wealth. - -Before the muslin-framed mirror, which reveals all that it sees so well, -you pause carelessly and with a smile give one long satisfied look, then -with two fingers you withdraw the pin that kept up your hair, and -its long, fair tresses unroll and fall in waves, veiling your bare -shoulders. With a coquettish hand, the little finger of which is turned -up, you caress, as you gather them together, the golden flood of -your abundant locks, while with the other you pass through them the -tortoiseshell comb that buries itself in the depths of this fair forest -and bends with the effort. - -Your tresses are so abundant that your little hand can scarcely grasp -them. They are so long that your outstretched arm scarcely reaches their -extremity. Hence it is not without difficulty that you manage to twist -them up and imprison them in your embroidered night-cap. - -This first duty accomplished, you turn the silver tap, and the pure and -limpid water pours into a large bowl of enamelled porcelain. You throw -in a few drops of that fluid which perfumes and softens the skin, and -like a nymph in the depths of a quiet wood preparing for the toilet, you -remove the drapery that might encumber you. - -But what, Madame, you frown? Have I said too much or not enough? Is -it not well known that you love cold water; and do you think it is not -guessed that at the contact of the dripping sponge you quiver from head -to foot? - -But what matters it, your toilette for the night is completed, you are -fresh, restored, and white as a nun in your embroidered dressing-gown, -you dart your bare feet into satin slippers and reenter your bedroom, -shivering slightly. To see you walking thus with hurried steps, wrapped -tightly in your dressing-gown, and with your pretty head hidden in its -nightcap, you might be taken for a little girl leaving the confessional -after confessing some terrible sin. - -Gaining the bedside, Madame lays aside her slippers, and lightly and -without effort, bounds into the depths of the alcove. - -However, Monsieur, who was already asleep with his nose on the Moniteur, -suddenly wakes up at the movement imparted to the bed. - -“I thought that you were in bed already, dear,” he murmurs, falling off -to sleep again. “Good-night.” - -“If I had been in bed you would have noticed it.” Madame stretches out -her feet and moves them about; she seems to be in quest of something. “I -am not in such a hurry to go to sleep as you are, thank goodness.” - -Monsieur, suddenly and evidently annoyed, says: “But what is the matter, -my dear? You fidget and fidget--I want to sleep.” He turns over as he -speaks. - -“I fidget! I am simply feeling for my hot-water bottle; you are -irritating.” - -“Your hot-water bottle?” is Monsieur’s reply, with a grunt. - -“Certainly, my hot-water bottle, my feet are frozen.” She goes on -feeling for it. “You are really very amiable this evening; you began by -dozing over the ‘Revue des Deux Mondes’, and I find you snoring over -the ‘Moniteur’. In your place I should vary my literature. I am sure you -have taken my hot-water bottle.” - -“I have been doing wrong. I will subscribe to the ‘Tintamarre’ in -future. Come, good-night, my dear.” He turns over. “Hello, your -hot-water bottle is right at the bottom of the bed; I can feel it with -the tips of my toes.” - -“Well, push it up; do you think that I can dive down there after it?” - -“Shall I ring for your maid to help you?” He makes a movement of -ill-temper, pulls the clothes up to his chin, and buries his head in the -pillow. “Goodnight, my dear.” - -Madame, somewhat vexed, says: “Good-night, goodnight.” - -The respiration of Monsieur grows smooth, and even his brows relax, his -forehead becomes calm, he is on the point of losing all consciousness of -the realities of this life. - -Madame taps lightly on her husband’s shoulder. - -“Hum,” growls Monsieur. - -Madame taps again. - -“Well, what is it?” - -Madame, in an angelic tone of voice, “My dear, would you put out the -candle?” - -Monsieur, without opening his eyes, “The hot-water bottle, the candle, -the candle, the hot-water bottle.” - -“Good heavens! how irritable you are, Oscar. I will put it out myself. -Don’t trouble yourself. You really have a very bad temper, my dear; you -are angry, and if you were goaded a little, you would, in five minutes, -be capable of anything.” - -Monsieur, his voice smothered in the pillow, “No, not at all; I am -sleepy, dear, that is all. Good-night, my dear.” - -Madame, briskly, “You forget that in domestic life good feeling has for -its basis reciprocal consideration.” - -“I was wrong--come, good-night.” He raises himself up a little. “Would -you like me to kiss you?” - -“I don’t want you to, but I permit.” She puts her face toward that of -her husband, who kisses her on the forehead. “You are really too good, -you have kissed my nightcap.” - -Monsieur, smiling, “Your hair smells very nice... You see I am so -sleepy. Ah! you have it in little plaits, you are going to wave it -to-morrow.” - -“To wave it. You were the first to find that that way of dressing it -became me, besides, it is the fashion, and tomorrow is my reception day. -Come, you irritable man, embrace me once for all and snore at your ease, -you are dying to do so.” - -She holds her neck toward her husband. - -Monsieur, laughing, “In the first place, I never snore. I never joke.” - He kisses his wife’s neck, and rests his head on her shoulder. - -“Well, what are you doing there?” is her remark. - -“I am digesting my kiss.” - -Madame affects the lackadaisical, and looks sidewise at her husband -with an eye half disarmed. Monsieur sniffs the loved perfume with open -nostrils. - -After a period of silence he whispers in his wife’s ear, “I am not -at all sleepy now, dear. Are your feet still cold? I will find the -hot-water bottle.” - -“Oh, thanks, put out the light and let us go to sleep; I am quite tired -out.” - -She turns round by resting her arm on his face. - -“No, no, I won’t have you go to sleep with your feet chilled; there -is nothing worse. There, there is the hot-water bottle, warm your poor -little feet... there... like that.” - -“Thanks, I am very comfortable. Good-night, dear, let us go to sleep.” - -“Good-night, my dear.” - -After a long silence Monsieur turns first on one side and then on the -other, and ends by tapping lightly on his wife’s shoulder. - -Madame, startled, “What is the matter? Good heavens! how you startled -me!” - -Monsieur, smiling, “Would you be kind enough to put out the candle?” - -“What! is it for that you wake me up in the middle of my sleep? I shall -not be able to doze again. You are unbearable.” - -“You find me unbearable?” He comes quite close to his wife; “Come, let -me explain my idea to you.” - -Madame turns round--her eye meets the eye... full of softness.. of her -husband. “Dear me,” she says, “you are a perfect tiger.” - -Then, putting her mouth to his ear, she murmurs with a smile, “Come, -explain your idea, for the sake of peace and quiet.” - -Madame, after a very long silence, and half asleep, “Oscar!” - -Monsieur, his eyes closed, in a faint voice, “My dear.” - -“How about the candle? it is still alight.” - -“Ah! the candle. I will put it out. If you were very nice you would -give me a share of your hot-water bottle; one of my feet is frozen. -Good-night.” - -“Good-night.” - -They clasp hands and fall asleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. A LONGING - - MONSIEUR and MADAME are quietly sitting together--The clock has just - struck ten--MONSIEUR is in his dressing-gown and slippers, is - leaning back in an armchair and reading the newspaper--MADAME is - carelessly working squares of laces. - -Madame--Such things have taken place, have they not, dear? - -Monsieur--(without raising his eyes)--Yes, my dear. - -Madame--There, well I should never have believed it. But they are -monstrous, are they not? - -Monsieur--(without raising his eyes)--Yes, my dear. - -Madame--Well, and yet, see how strange it is, Louise acknowledged it -to me last month, you know; the evening she called for me to go to the -perpetual Adoration, and our hour of adoration, as it turned out, by the -way, was from six to seven; impossible, too, to change our turn; none -of the ladies caring to adore during dinner-time, as is natural enough. -Good heavens, what a rage we were in! How good God must be to have -forgiven you. Do you remember? - -Monsieur--(continuing to read)--Yes, dear. - -Madame--Ah! you remember that you said, ‘I don’t care a...’ Oh! but I -won’t repeat what you said, it is too naughty. How angry you were! ‘I -will go and dine at the restaurant, confound it!’ But you did not say -confound, ha! ha! ha! Well, I loved you just the same at that moment; -it vexed me to see you in a rage on God’s account, but for my own part I -was pleased; I like to see you in a fury; your nostrils expand, and then -your moustache bristles, you put me in mind of a lion, and I have always -liked lions. When I was quite a child at the Zoological Gardens they -could not get me away from them; I threw all my sous into their cage for -them to buy gingerbread with; it was quite a passion. Well, to continue -my story. (She looks toward her husband who is still reading, and after -a pause,) Is it interesting-that which you are reading? - -Monsieur--(like a man waking up)--What is it, my dear child? What I am -reading? Oh, it would scarcely interest you. (With a grimace.) There are -Latin phrases, you know, and, besides, I am hoarse. But I am listening, -go, on. (He resumes his newspaper.) - -Madame--Well, to return to the perpetual Adoration, Louise confided to -me, under the pledge of secrecy, that she was like me. - -Monsieur--Like you? What do you mean? - -Madame--Like me; that is plain enough. - -Monsieur--You are talking nonsense, my little angel, follies as great as -your chignon. You women will end by putting pillows into your chignons. - -Madame--(resting her elbows on her husband’s knees)--But, after all, -the instincts, the resemblances we have, must certainly be attributed to -something. Can any one imagine, for instance, that God made your cousin -as stupid as he is, and with a head like a pear? - -Monsieur--My cousin! my cousin! Ferdinand is only a cousin by marriage. -I grant, however, that he is not very bright. - -Madame--Well, I am sure that his mother must have had a longing, or -something. - -Monsieur--What can I do to help it, my angel? - -Madame--Nothing at all; but it clearly shows that such things are not to -be laughed at; and if I were to tell you that I had a longing-- - -Monsieur--(letting fall his newspaper)--The devil! a longing for what? - -Madame--Ah! there your nostrils are dilating; you are going to -resemble a lion again, and I never shall dare to tell you. It is so -extraordinary, and yet my mother had exactly the same longing. - -Monsieur--Come, tell it me, you see that I am patient. If it is possible -to gratify it, you know that I love you, my... Don’t kiss me on the -neck; you will make me jump up to the ceiling, my darling. - -Madame--Repeat those two little words. I am your darling, then? - -Monsieur--Ha! ha! ha! She has little fingers which--ha! ha!--go into -your neck--ha! ha!--you will make me break something, nervous as I am. - -Madame--Well, break something. If one may not touch one’s husband, one -may as well go into a convent at once. (She puts her lips to MONSIEUR’S -ear and coquettishly pulls the end of his moustache.) I shall not be -happy till I have what I am longing for, and then it would be so kind of -you to do it. - -Monsieur--Kind to do what? Come, dear, explain yourself. - -Madame--You must first of all take off that great, ugly dressing-gown, -pull on your boots, put on your hat and go. Oh, don’t make any faces; -if you grumble in the least all the merit of your devotedness will -disappear ... and go to the grocer’s at the corner of the street, a very -respectable shop. - -Monsieur--To the grocer’s at ten o’clock at night! Are you mad? I will -ring for John; it is his business. - -Madame (staying his hand) You indiscreet man. These are our own private -affairs; we must not take any one into our confidence. I will go into -your dressing-room to get your things, and you will put your boots on -before the fire comfortably... to please me, Alfred, my love, my life. I -would give my little finger to have... - -Monsieur--To have what, hang it all, what, what, what? - -Madame--(her face alight and fixing her eyes on him)--I want a sou’s -worth of paste. Had not you guessed it? - -Monsieur--But it is madness, delirium, fol-- - -Madame--I said paste, dearest; only a sou’s worth, wrapped in strong -paper. - -Monsieur--No, no. I am kind-hearted, but I should reproach myself-- - -Madame--(closing his mouth with her little hands)--Oh, not a word; you -are going to utter something naughty. But when I tell you that I have a -mad longing for it, that I love you as I have never loved you yet, that -my mother had the same desire--Oh! my poor mother (she weeps in her -hands), if she could only know, if she were not at the other end of -France. You have never cared for my parents; I saw that very well on our -wedding-day, and (she sobs) it will be the sorrow of my whole life. - -Monsieur--(freeing himself and suddenly rising)--Give me my boots. - -Madame--(with effusion)--Oh, thanks, Alfred, my love, you are good, yes, -you are good. Will you have your walking-stick, dear? - -Monsieur--I don’t care. How much do you want of that abomination--a -franc’s worth, thirty sous’ worth, a louis’ worth? - -Madame--You know very well that I would not make an abuse of it-only a -sou’s worth. I have some sous for mass; here, take one. Adieu, Alfred; -be quick; be quick! - -(Exit MONSIEUR.) - -Left alone, Madame wafts a kiss in her most tender fashion toward the -door Monsieur has just closed behind him, then goes toward the glass -and smiles at herself with pleasure. Then she lights the wax candle in -a little candlestick, and quietly makes her way to the kitchen, -noiselessly opens a press, takes out three little dessert plates, -bordered with gold and ornamented with her initials, next takes from -a box lined with white leather, two silver spoons, and, somewhat -embarrassed by all this luggage, returns to her bedroom. - -Then she pokes the fire, draws a little buhl table close up to the -hearth, spreads a white cloth, sets out the plates, puts the spoons by -them, and enchanted, impatient, with flushed complexion, leans back -in an armchair. Her little foot rapidly taps the floor, she smiles, -pouts--she is waiting. - -At last, after an interval of some minutes, the outer door is heard to -close, rapid steps cross the drawingroom, Madame claps her hands and -Monsieur comes in. He does not look very pleased, as he advances holding -awkwardly in his left hand a flattened parcel, the contents of which may -be guessed. - -Madame--(touching a gold-bordered plate and holding it out to her -husband)--Relieve yourself of it, dear. Could you not have been quicker? - -Monsieur--Quicker? - -Madame--Oh! I am not angry with you, that is not meant for a reproach, -you are an angel; but it seems to me a century since you started. - -Monsieur--The man was just going to shut his shop up. My gloves are -covered with it... it’s sticky... it’s horrid, pah! the abomination! At -last I shall have peace and quietness. - -Madame--Oh! no harsh words, they hurt me so. But look at this pretty -little table, do you remember how we supped by the fireside? Ah! you -have forgotten it, a man’s heart has no memory. - -Monsieur--Are you so mad as to imagine that I am going to touch it? Oh! -indeed! that is carrying-- - -Madame--(sadly)--See what a state you get in over a little favor I -ask of you. If in order to please me you were to overcome a slight -repugnance, if you were just to touch this nice, white jelly with you -lips, where would be the harm? - -Monsieur--The harm! the harm! it would be ridiculous. Never. - -Madame--That is the reason? “It would be absurd.” It is not from -disgust, for there is nothing disgusting there, it is flour and water, -nothing more. It is not then from a dislike, but out of pride that you -refuse? - -Monsieur--(shrugging his shoulders)--What you say is childish, puerile, -silly. I do not care to answer it. - -Madame--And what you say is neither generous nor worthy of you, since -you abuse your superiority. You see me at your feet pleading for an -insignificant thing, puerile, childish, foolish, perhaps, but one which -would give me pleasure, and you think it heroic not to yield. Do you -want me to speak out, well? then, you men are unfeeling. - -Monsieur--Never. - -Madame--Why, you admitted it to me yourself one night, on the Pont des -Arts, as we were walking home from the theatre. - -Monsieur--After all, there is no great harm in that. - -Madame--(sadly)--I am not angry with you, this sternness is part of your -nature, you are a rod of iron. - -Monsieur--I have some energy when it is needed, I grant you, but I have -not the absurd pride you imagine, and there (he dips his finger in the -paste and carries it to his lips), is the proof, you spoilt child. Are -you satisfied? It has no taste, it is insipid. - -Madame--You were pretending. - -Monsieur--I swear to you... - -Madame (taking a little soon, filling it with her precious paste and -holding it to her husband’s lips)--I want to see the face you will make, -love. - -Monsieur--(Puts out his lips, buries his two front teeth, with marked -disgust, in the paste, makes a horrible face and spits into the -fireplace)--Eugh. - -Madame--(still holding the spoon and with much interest) Well? - -Monsieur--Well! it is awful! oh! awful! taste it. - -Madame--(dreamily stirring the paste with the spoon, her little finger -in the air)--I should never have believed that it was so nasty. - -Monsieur--You will soon see for yourself, taste it, taste it. - -Madame--I am in no hurry, I have plenty of time. - -Monsieur--To see what it is like. Taste a little, come. - -Madame--(pushing away the plate with a look of horror)--Oh! how you -worry me. Be quiet, do; for a trifle I could hate you. It is disgusting, -this paste of yours! - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. FAMILY LIFE - -It was the evening of the 15th of February. It was dreadfully cold. The -snow drove against the windows and the wind whistled furiously under -the doors. My two aunts, seated at a table in one corner of the -drawing-room, gave vent from time to time to deep sighs, and, wriggling -in their armchairs, kept casting uneasy glances toward the bedroom door. -One of them had taken from a little leather bag placed on the table -her blessed rosary and was repeating her prayers, while her sister -was reading a volume of Voltaire’s correspondence which she held at a -distance from her eyes, her lips moving as she perused it. - -For my own part, I was striding up and down the room, gnawing my -moustache, a bad habit I have never been able to get rid of, and halting -from time to time in front of Dr. C., an old friend of mine, who was -quietly reading the paper in the most comfortable of the armchairs. I -dared not disturb him, so absorbed did he seem in what he was reading, -but in my heart I was furious to see him so quiet when I myself was so -agitated. - -Suddenly he tossed the paper on to the couch and, passing his hand -across his bald and shining head, said: - -“Ah! if I were a minister, it would not take long, no, it would not be -very long.... You have read that article on Algerian cotton. One of two -things, either irrigation.... But you are not listening to me, and yet -it is a more serious matter than you think.” - -He rose, and with his hands in his pocket, walked across the room -humming an old medical student’s song. I followed him closely. - -“Jacques,” said I, as he turned round, “tell me frankly, are you -satisfied?” - -“Yes, yes, I am satisfied... observe my untroubled look,” and he broke -into his hearty and somewhat noisy laugh. - -“You are not hiding anything from me, my dear fellow?” - -“What a donkey you are, old fellow. I tell you that everything is going -on well.” - -And he resumed his song, jingling the money in his pockets. - -“All is going on well, but it will take some time,” he went on. “Let -me have one of your dressing-gowns. I shall be more comfortable for the -night, and these ladies will excuse me, will they not?” - -“Excuse you, I should think so, you, the doctor, and my friend!” I felt -devotedly attached to him that evening. - -“Well, then, if they will excuse me, you can very well let me have a -pair of slippers.” - -At this moment a cry came from the next room and we distinctly heard -these words in a stifled voice: - -“Doctor... oh! mon Dieu!... doctor!” - -“It is frightful,” murmured my aunts. - -“My dear friend,” I exclaimed, seizing the doctor’s arm, “you are quite -sure you are not concealing anything from me?” - -“If you have a very loose pair they will suit me best; I have not -the foot of a young girl.... I am not concealing anything, I am not -concealing anything.... What do you think I should hide from you? It is -all going on very well, only as I said it will take time--By the way, -tell Joseph to get me one of your smokingcaps; once in dressing-gown and -slippers a smokingcap is not out of the way, and I am getting bald, my -dear Captain. How infernally cold it is here! These windows face the -north, and there are no sand-bags. Mademoiselle de V.,” he added, -turning to my aunt, “you will catch cold.” - -Then as other sounds were heard, he said: “Let us go and see the little -lady.” - -“Come here,” said my wife, who had caught sight of me, in a low voice, -“come here and shake hands with me.” Then she drew me toward her and -whispered in my ear: “You will be pleased to kiss the little darling, -won’t you?” Her voice was so faint and so tender as she said this, and -she added: “Do not take your hand away, it gives me courage.” - -I remained beside her, therefore, while the doctor, who had put on my -dressing-gown, vainly strove to button it. - -From time to time my poor little wife squeezed my hand violently, -closing her eyes, but not uttering a cry. The fire sparkled on the -hearth. The pendulum of the clock went on with its monotonous ticking, -but it seemed to me that all this calm was only apparent, that -everything about me must be in a state of expectation like myself and -sharing my emotion. In the bedroom beyond, the door of which was ajar, -I could see the end of the cradle and the shadow of the nurse who was -dozing while she waited. - -What I felt was something strange. I felt a new sentiment springing up -in my heart, I seemed to have some foreign body within my breast, and -this sweet sensation was so new to me that I was, as it were, alarmed at -it. I felt the little creature, who was there without yet being there, -clinging to me; his whole life unrolled itself before me. I saw him at -the same time a child and a grown-up man; it seemed to me that my own -life was about to be renewed in his and I felt from time to time an -irresistible need of giving him something of myself. - -Toward half-past eleven, the doctor, like a captain consulting his -compass, pulled out his watch, muttered something and drew near the bed. - -“Come, my dear lady,” said he to my wife, “courage, we are all round you -and all is going well; within five minutes you will hear him cry out.” - -My mother-in-law, almost beside herself, was biting her lips and each -pang of the sufferer was reflected upon her face. Her cap had -got disarranged in such a singular fashion that, under any other -circumstances, I should have burst out laughing. At that moment I heard -the drawing-room door open and saw the heads of my aunts, one above the -other, and behind them that of my father, who was twisting his heavy -white moustache with a grimace that was customary to him. - -“Shut the door,” cried the doctor, angrily, “don’t bother me.” - -And with the greatest coolness in the world he turned to my -mother-in-law and added, “I ask a thousand pardons.” - -But just then there was something else to think of than my old friend’s -bluntness. - -“Is everything ready to receive him?” he continued, growling. - -“Yes, my dear doctor,” replied my mother-in-law. - -At length, the doctor lifted into the air a little object which almost -immediately uttered a cry as piercing as a needle. I shall never forget -the impression produced on me by this poor little thing, making its -appearance thus, all of a sudden, in the middle of the family. We had -thought and dreamed of it; I had seen him in my mind’s eye, my darling -child, playing with a hoop, pulling my moustache, trying to walk, or -gorging himself with milk in his nurse’s arms like a gluttonous little -kitten; but I had never pictured him to myself, inanimate, almost -lifeless, quite tiny, wrinkled, hairless, grinning, and yet, charming, -adorable, and be loved in spite of all-poor, ugly, little thing. It -was a strange impression, and so singular that it is impossible to -understand it, without having experienced it. - -“What luck you have!” said the doctor, holding the child toward me; “it -is a boy.” - -“A boy!” - -“And a fine one.” - -“Really, a boy!” - -That was a matter of indifference to me now. What was causing me -indescribable emotion was the living proof of paternity, this little -being who was my own. I felt stupefied in presence of the great mystery -of childbirth. My wife was there, fainting, overcame, and the little -living creature, my own flesh, my own blood, was squalling and -gesticulating in the hands of Jacques. I was overwhelmed, like a workman -who had unconsciously produced a masterpiece. I felt myself quite small -in presence of this quivering piece of my own handiwork, and, frankly, -a little bit ashamed of having made it so well almost without troubling -about it. I can not undertake to explain all this, I merely relate my -impressions. - -My mother-in-law held out her apron and the doctor placed the child on -his grandmother’s knees, saying: “Come, little savage, try not to be -any worse than your rascal of a father. Now for five minutes of emotion. -Come, Captain, embrace me.” - -We did so heartily. The doctor’s little black eyes twinkled more -brightly than usual; I saw very well that he was moved. - -“Did it make you feel queer, Captain? I mean the cry? Ah! I know it, it -is like a needle through the heart.... Where is the nurse? Ah! here she -is. No matter, he is a fine boy, your little lancer. Open the door for -the prisoners in the drawing-room.” - -I opened the door. Every one was listening on the other side of it. My -father, my two aunts, still holding in their hands, one her rosary and -the other her Voltaire, my own nurse, poor old woman, who had come in a -cab. - -“Well,” they exclaimed anxiously, “well?” - -“It is all over, it is a boy; go in, he is there.” - -You can not imagine how happy I was to see on all their faces the -reflection of my own emotion. They embraced me and shook hands with me, -and I responded to all these marks of affection without exactly knowing -where they came from. - -“Damn it all!” muttered my father, in my ear, holding me in his arms, -with his stick still in his hand and his hat on his head, “Damn it all!” - -But he could not finish, however brave he might wish to appear; a big -tear was glittering at the tip of his nose. He muttered “Hum!” under his -moustache and finally burst into tears on my shoulder, saying: “I can -not help it.” - -And I did likewise--I could not help it either. - -However, everybody was flocking round the grandmamma, who lifted up a -corner of her apron and said: - -“How pretty he is, the darling, how pretty! Nurse, warm the linen, give -me the caps.” - -“Smile at your aunty,” said my aunt, jangling her rosary above the -baby’s head, “smile at aunty.” - -“Ask him at the same time to recite a fable,” said the doctor. - -Meanwhile my wife was coming to herself; she half opened her eyes and -seemed to be looking for something. - -“Where is he?” she murmured in a faint voice. - -They showed her her mother’s apron. - -“A boy, is it not?” - -Taking my hand, she drew me down toward her and said in a whisper, “Are -you satisfied with me? I did my best, dear.” - -“Come, no emotion,” exclaimed the doctor, “you shall kiss each other -tomorrow. Colonel,” he said to my father, who still retained his hat and -stick, “keep them from kissing. No emotion, and every one outside. I am -going to dress the little lancer. Give me the little man, grandmamma. -Come here, little savage. You shall see whether I don’t know how to -fasten pins in.” - -He took the baby in his two large hands and sat down on a stool before -the fire. - -I watched my boy whom Jacques was turning about like a doll, but with -great skill. He examined him all over, touching and feeling him, and at -each test said with a smile: - -“He is a fine one, he is a fine one.” - -Then he rolled him up in his clothes, put a triple cap on his little -bald head, tied a folded ribbon under his chin to prevent his head -falling backward, and then, satisfied with his work, said: - -“You saw how I did it, nurse? Well, you must dress this lancer every -morning in the same way. Nothing but a little sugar and water till -to-morrow. The mother has no fever. Come, all is going on well. - -“Lucky Captain! I am so hungry. Do you know that it is one in the -morning? You haven’t got cold partridge or a bit of pie that you don’t -know what to do with, have you? It would suit me down to the ground, -with a bottle of something.” - -We went both into the dining-room and laid the cloth without any more -ceremony. - -I never in my life ate and drank so much as on that occasion. - -“Come, get off to bed,” said the doctor, putting on his coat. “To-morrow -morning you shall have the wet-nurse. No, by the way, I’ll call for you, -and we will go and choose her together; it is curious. Be under arms at -half-past eight.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. NEW YEAR’S DAY - -It is barely seven o’clock. A pale ray of daylight is stealing through -the double curtains, and already some one is tapping at the door. I can -hear in the next room from the stifled laughter and the silvery tones of -Baby, who is quivering with impatience, and asking leave to come in. - -“Papa,” he cries, “it is Baby, it is Baby come for the New Year.” - -“Come in, my darling; come quick, and kiss us.” - -The door opens and my boy, his eyes aglow, and his arms raised, rushes -toward the bed. His curls, escaping from the nightcap covering his head, -float on his forehead. His long, loose night-shirt, catching his little -feet, increases his impatience, and causes him to stumble at every step. - -At length he crosses the room, and, holding out his two hands to mine: -“Baby wishes you a Happy New Year,” he says, in an earnest voice. - -“Poor little love, with his bare feet! Come, darling, and warm yourself -under the counterpane.” - -I lift him toward me, but at this moment my wife, who is asleep, -suddenly wakes. - -“Who is there?” she exclaims, feeling for the bell. “Thieves!” - -“It is we two, dear.” - -“Who? Good heavens! how you frightened me! I was dreaming the house was -on fire, and that I heard your voice amid the raging flames. You were -very indiscreet in shouting like that!” - -“Shouting! but you forget, mamma, that it is New Year’s Day, the day -of smiles and kisses? Baby was waiting for you to wake up, as well as -myself.” - -However, I wrap the little fellow up in the eiderdown quilt and warm his -cold feet in my hands. - -“Mamma, it is New Year’s Day,” he exclaims. With his arms he draws our -two heads together, puts forward his own and kisses us at haphazard -with his moist lips. I feel his dimpled fists digging into my neck, his -little fingers entangled in my beard. - -My moustache tickles the tip of his nose, and he bursts into a fit of -joyous laughter as he throws his head back. - -His mother, who has recovered from her fright, takes him in her arms and -rings the bell. - -“The year is beginning well, dear,” she says, “but we must have a little -daylight.” - -“Mamma, naughty children don’t have any new toys on New Year’s Day, do -they?” - -And as he says this the sly fellow eyes a pile of parcels and packages -heaped up in one corner, visible despite the semidarkness. - -Soon the curtains are drawn aside, and the shutters opened; daylight -floods the room; the fire crackles merrily on the hearth, and two large -parcels, carefully tied up, are placed on the bed. One is for my wife, -and the other for my boy. - -“What is it? What is it?” I have multiplied the knots and tripled the -wrappings, and I gleefully follow their impatient fingers entangled -among the strings. - -My wife gets impatient, smiles, pouts, kisses me, and asks for the -scissors. - -Baby on his side tugs with all his might, biting his lips as he does so, -and ends by asking my help. His look strives to penetrate the wrappers. -All the signs of desire and expectation are stamped on his face. His -hand, hidden under the coverlet, causes the silk to rustle with his -convulsive movements, and his lips quiver as at the approach of some -dainty. - -At length the last paper falls aside. The lid is lifted, and joy breaks -forth. - -“A fur tippet!” - -“A Noah’s ark!” - -“To match my muff, dear, kind husband.” - -“With a Noah on wheels, dear papa. I do love you so.” - -They throw themselves on my neck, four arms are clasped round me at -once. Emotion gets the better of me, and a tear steals into my eye. -There are two in those of my wife, and Baby, losing his head, sobs as he -kisses my hand. - -It is absurd. - -Absurd, I don’t know; but delightful, I can answer for it. - -Does not grief, after all, call forth enough tears for us to forgive joy -the solitary one she perchance causes us to shed! - -Life is not so sweet for us to risk ourselves in it singlehanded, and -when the heart is empty the way seems very long. - -It is so pleasant to feel one’s self loved, to hear beside one the -cadenced steps of one’s fellow-travellers, and to say, “They are here, -our three hearts beat in unison.” So pleasant once a year, when the -great clock strikes the first of January, to sit down beside the path, -with hands locked together, and eyes fixed on the unknown dusty road -losing itself in the horizon, and to say, while embracing one another, -“We still love one another, my dear children; you rely on me, and I rely -on you. Let us have confidence, and walk steadfastly.” - -This is how I explain that one may weep a little while examining a new -fur tippet and opening a Noah’s ark. - -But breakfast time draws near. I have cut myself twice while shaving; -I have stepped on my son’s wild beasts in turning round, and I have the -prospect of a dozen duty calls, as my wife terms them, before me; yet I -am delighted. - -We sit down to the breakfast table, which has a more than usually -festive aspect. A faint aroma of truffles perfumes the air, every one is -smiling, and through the glass I see, startling sight! the doorkeeper, -with his own hands, wiping the handrail of the staircase. It is a -glorious day. - -Baby has ranged his elephants, lions, and giraffes round his plate, and -his mother, under pretext of a draught, breakfasts in her tippet. - -“Have you ordered the carriage, dear, for our visits?” I ask. - -“That cushion for Aunt Ursula will take up such a deal of room. It might -be put beside the coachman.” - -“Poor aunt.” - -“Papa, don’t let us go to Aunt Ursula,” said Baby; “she pricks so when -she kisses you.” - -“Naughty boy.... Think of all we have to get into the carriage. Leon’s -rocking-horse, Louise’s muff, your father’s slippers, Ernestine’s quilt, -the bonbons, the work-box. I declare, aunt’s cushion must go under the -coachman’s feet.” - -“Papa, why doesn’t the giraffe eat cutlets?” - -“I really don’t know, dear.” - -“Neither do I, papa.” - -An hour later we are ascending the staircase leading to Aunt Ursula’s. -My wife counts the steps as she pulls herself up by the hand-rail, and -I carry the famous cushion, the bonbons, and my son, who has insisted on -bringing his giraffe with him. - -Aunt Ursula, who produces the same effect on him as the sight of a -rod would, is waiting us in her icy little drawing-room. Four square -armchairs, hidden beneath yellow covers, stand vacant behind four little -mats. A clock in the shape of a pyramid, surmounted on a sphere, ticks -under a glass case. - -A portrait on the wall, covered with fly-spots, shows a nymph with a -lyre, standing beside a waterfall. This nymph was Aunt Ursula. How she -has altered! - -“My dear aunt, we have come to wish you a Happy New Year.” - -“To express our hopes that--” - -“Thank you, nephew, thank you, niece,” and she points to two chairs. “I -am sensible of this step on your part; it proves to me that you have not -altogether forgotten the duties imposed upon you by family ties.” - -“You are reckoning, my dear aunt, without the affection we feel for you, -and which of itself is enough... Baby, go and kiss your aunt.” - -Baby whispers in my ear, “But, papa, I tell you she does prick.” - -I place the bonbons on a side-table. - -“You can, nephew, dispense with offering me that little gift; you know -that sweetmeats disagree with me, and, if I were not aware of your -indifference as to the state of my health, I should see in your offering -a veiled sarcasm. But let that pass. Does your father still bear up -against his infirmities courageously?” - -“Thank you, yes.” - -“I thought to please you, dear aunt,” observes my wife, “by embroidering -for you this cushion, which I beg you to accept.” - -“I thank you, child, but I can still hold myself sufficiently upright, -thank God, not to have any need of a cushion. The embroidery is -charming, it is an Oriental design. You might have made a better choice, -knowing that I like things much more simple. It is charming, however, -although this red next to the green here sets one’s teeth on edge. Taste -in colors is, however, not given to every one. I have, in return, to -offer you my photograph, which that dear Abbe Miron insisted on my -having taken.” - -“How kind you are, and how like you it is! Do you recognize your aunt, -Baby?” - -“Do not think yourself obliged to speak contrary to your opinion. This -photograph does not in any way resemble me, my eyes are much brighter. I -have also a packet of jujubes for your child. He seems to have grown.” - -“Baby, go and kiss your aunt.” - -“And then we shall go, mamma?” - -“You are very rude, my dear.” - -“Let him speak out; at any rate, he is frank. But I see that your -husband is getting impatient, you have other... errands to fulfil; I -will not keep you. Besides, I am going to church to pray for those who -do not pray for themselves.” - -From twelve duty calls, subtract one duty call, and eleven remain. Hum! -“Coachman, Rue St. Louis au Marais.” - -“Papa, has Aunt Ursula needles in her chin?” - -Let us pass over the eleven duty calls, they are no more agreeable to -write of than to make. - -Toward seven o’clock, heaven be praised, the horses stop before my -father’s, where dinner awaits us. Baby claps his hands, and smiles at -old Jeannette, who, at the sound of the wheels, has rushed to the door. -“Here they are,” she exclaims, and she carries off Baby to the kitchen, -where my mother, with her sleeves turned up, is giving the finishing -touch to her traditional plum cake. - -My father, on his way to the cellar, lantern in hand, and escorted -by his old servant, Jean, who is carrying the basket, halts. “Why, -children, how late you are! Come to my arms, my dears; this is the day -on which one kisses in good earnest. Jean, hold my lantern a minute.” - And as my old father clasps me to his breast, his hand seeks out mine -and grasps it, with a long clasp. Baby, who glides in between our legs, -pulls our coat-tails and holds up his little mouth for a kiss too. - -“But I am keeping you here in the anteroom and you are frozen; go into -the drawing-room, there are a good fire and good friends there.” - -They have heard us, the door opens, and a number of arms are held out -to us. Amid handshakings, embracings, good wishes, and kisses, boxes are -opened, bonbons are showered forth, parcels are undone, mirth becomes -deafening, and good humor tumultuous. Baby standing amid his presents -resembles a drunken man surrounded by a treasure, and from time to time -gives a cry of joy on discovering some fresh toy. - -“The little man’s fable,” exclaims my father, swinging his lantern which -he has taken again from Jean. - -A deep silence ensues, and the poor child, whose debut in the -elocutionary art it is, suddenly loses countenance. He casts down his -eyes, blushes and takes refuge in the arms of his mother, who, stooping -down, whispers, “Come, darling, ‘A lamb was quenching’; you know the -wolf and the lamb.” - -“Yes, mamma, I know the little lamb that wanted to drink.” And in a -contrite voice, his head bent down on his breast, he repeats with a deep -sigh, “‘A little lamb was quenching his thirst in a clear stream.”’ - -We all, with ears on the alert and a smile on our lips, follow his -delightful little jargon. - -Uncle Bertrand, who is rather deaf, has made an ear trumpet of his hand -and drawn his chair up. “Ah! I can follow it,” he says. “It is the -fox and the grapes.” And as there is a murmur of “Hush,” at this -interruption, he adds: “Yes, yes, he recites with intelligence, great -intelligence.” - -Success restores confidence to my darling, who finishes his fable with a -burst of laughter. Joy is communicative, and we take our places at table -amid the liveliest mirth. - -“By the way,” says my father, “where the deuce is my lantern. I have -forgotten all about the cellar. Jean, take your basket and let us go and -rummage behind the fagots.” - -The soup is smoking, and my mother, after having glanced smilingly round -the table, plunges her ladle into the tureen. Give me the family dinner -table at which those we love are seated, at which we may risk resting -our elbows at dessert, and at which at thirty we once more taste the -wine offered at our baptism. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. LETTERS OF A YOUNG MOTHER TO HER FRIEND. - -The little caps are the ones I want, Marie. Be good enough to send me -the pattern of the braces, those of your own invention, you know. Thanks -for your coverlet, it is soft, flexible, warm, and charming, and Baby, -amid its white wool, looks like a rosebud hidden in the snow. I am -becoming poetical, am I not? But what would you have? My poor heart is -overflowing with joy. My son, do you understand that, dear, my own son? -When I heard the sharp cry of the little being whom my mother showed me -lying in her apron, it seemed to me that a burning thrill of love shot -through my veins. My old doctor’s bald head was close to me, I caught -hold of it and kissed him thrice. - -“Calm yourself, my dear child,” said he. - -“Doctor, be quiet, or I will kiss you again. Give me my baby, my love. -Are you quite sure it is a boy?” - -And in the adjoining drawing-room, where the whole family were waiting, -I could hear amid the sound of kisses, the delightful words, “It is a -boy, a fine boy.” - -My poor husband, who for twelve hours had not left me, overcome with -fatigue and emotion, was crying and laughing in one corner of the room. - -“Come, nurse, swaddle him, quick now. No pins, confound it all, strings, -I will have strings. What? Give me the child, you don’t understand -anything about it.” - -And the good doctor in the twinkling of an eye had dressed my child. - -“He looks a Colonel, your boy. Put him into the cradle with... now be -calm, my dear patient... with a hot-water bottle to his feet. Not too -much fire, especially in the Colonel’s room. Now, no more noise, repose, -and every one out of the way.” - -And as through the opening of the door which was just ajar, Aunt Ursula -whispered, “Doctor, let me come in; just to press her hand, doctor.” - -“Confound it! every one must be off; silence and quiet are absolutely -necessary.” They all left. - -“Octave,” continued the doctor, “come and kiss your wife now, and make -an end of it. Good little woman, she has been very brave.... Octave, -come and kiss your wife, and be quick about it if you don’t want me to -kiss her myself. I will do what I say,” he added, threatening to make -good his words. - -Octave, buried in his child’s cradle, did not hear. - -“Good, now he is going to suffocate my Colonel for me.” - -My husband came at length. He held out his hand which was quivering with -emotion, and I grasped it with all my might. If my heart at that moment -did not break from excess of feeling, it was because God no doubt knew -that I should still have need of it. - -You know, dear Marie, that before a child comes we love each other -as husband and wife, but we love each other on our own account, while -afterward we love each other on his, the dear love, who with his tiny -hand has rivetted the chain forever. God, therefore, allows the heart to -grow and swell. Mine was full; nevertheless, my baby came and took his -place in it. Yet nothing overflowed, and I still feel that there is room -for mother and yourself. You told me, and truly, that this would be -a new life, a life of deep love and delightful devotion. All my past -existence seems trivial and colorless to me, and I perceive that I am -beginning to live. I am as proud as a soldier who has been in battle. -Wife and mother, those words are our epaulettes. Grandmother is the -field-marshal’s baton. - -How sweet I shall render the existence of my two loved ones! - -How I shall cherish them! I am wild, I weep, I should like to kiss you. -I am afraid I am too happy. - -My husband is really good. He holds the child with such pleasing -awkwardness, it costs him such efforts to lift this slight burden. When -he brings it to me, wrapped in blankets, he walks with slow and careful -steps. One would think that the ground was going to crumble away beneath -his feet. Then he places the little treasure in my bed, quite close to -me, on a large pillow. We deck Baby; we settle him comfortably, and if -after many attempts we get him to smile, it is an endless joy. Often my -husband and I remain in the presence of this tiny creature, our heads -resting on our hands. We silently follow the hesitating and charming -movements of his little rosy-nailed hand on the silk, and we find in -this so deep a charm that it needs a considerable counter-attraction to -tear us away. - -We have most amusing discussions on the shape of his forehead and the -color of his eyes, which always end in grand projects for his future, -very silly, no doubt, but so fascinating. - -Octave wants him to follow a diplomatic career. He says that he has -the eye of a statesman and that his gestures, though few, are full of -meaning. Poor, dear little ambassador, with only three hairs on your -head! But what dear hairs they are, those threads of gold curling at the -back of his neck, just above the rosy fold where the skin is so fine and -so fresh that kisses nestle there of themselves. - -The whole of this little body has a perfume which intoxicates me and -makes my heart leap. What, dear friend, are the invisible ties which -bind us to our children? Is it an atom of our own soul, a part of our -own life, which animates and vivifies them? There must be something of -the kind, for I can read amid the mists of his little mind. I divine his -wishes, I know when he is cold, I can tell when he is hungry. - -Do you know the most delightful moment? It is when after having taken -his evening meal and gorged himself with milk like a gluttonous little -kitten, he falls asleep with his rosy cheek resting on my arm. His limbs -gently relax, his head sinks down on my breast, his eyes close, and his -half-opened mouth continues to repeat the action of suckling. - -His warm, moist breath brushes the hand that is supporting him. Then I -wrap him up snugly in my turned-up skirt, hide his little feet under -his clothes and watch my darling. I have him there, all to myself, on my -knees. There is not a quiver of his being that escapes me or that does -not vibrate in myself. I feel at the bottom of my heart a mirror that -reflects them all. He is still part of me. Is it not my milk that -nourishes him, my voice that hushes him off to sleep, my hand that -dresses and caresses, encourages and supports him? The feeling that I am -all in all for him further adds a delicious charm of protection to the -delight of having brought him into the world. - -When I think that there are women who pass by such joys without turning -their heads. The fools! - -Yes, the present is delightful and I am drunk with happiness. There is -also the future, far away in the clouds. I often think of it, and I do -not know why I shudder at the approach of a storm. - -Madness! I shall love him so discreetly, I shall render the weight of my -affection so light for him, that why should he wish to separate from -me? Shall I not in time become his friend? Shall I not when a black down -shadows those rosy little lips, when the bird, feeling its wings grown, -seeks to leave the nest, shall I not be able to bring him back by -invisible ties to the arms in which he now is sleeping? Perhaps at that -wretched moment they call a man’s youth you will forget me, my little -darling! Other hands than mine perhaps will brush the hair away from -your forehead at twenty. Alas! other lips, pressed burningly where mine -are now pressed, will wipe out with a kiss twenty years of caresses. -Yes, but when you return from this intoxicating and fatiguing journey, -tired and exhausted, you will soon take refuge in the arms that once -nursed you, you will rest your poor, aching head where it rests now, you -will ask me to wipe away your tears and to make you forget the bruises -received on the way, and I shall give you, weeping for joy, the kiss -which at once consoles and fills with hope. - -But I see that I am writing a whole volume, dear Marie. I will not -re-read it or I should never dare to send it to you. What would you -have? I am losing my head a little. I am not yet accustomed to all this -happiness. - - Yours affectionately. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. FOUR YEARS LATER - -Yes, my dear, he is a man and a man for good and all. He has come back -from the country half as big again and as bold as a lion. He climbs on -to the chairs, stops the clocks and sticks his hands in his pockets like -a grown-up person. - -When I see in the morning in the anteroom my baby’s little shoes -standing proudly beside the paternal boots, I experience, despite -myself, a return toward that past which is yet so near. Yesterday -swaddling clothes, today boots, tomorrow spurs. Ah! how the happy days -fly by. Already four years old. I can scarcely carry him, even supposing -he allowed me to, for his manly dignity is ticklish. He passes half his -life armed for war, his pistols, his guns, his whips and his swords are -all over the place. There is a healthy frankness about all his doings -that charms me. - -Do you imagine from this that my demon no longer has any good in him? At -times he is an angel and freely returns the caresses I bestow upon him. -In the evening after dinner he gets down into my armchair, takes my head -in his hands and arranges my hair in his own way. His fresh little mouth -travels all over my face. He imprints big sounding kisses on the back -of my neck, which makes me shudder all over. We have endless talks -together. “Why’s” come in showers, and all these “why’s” require real -answers; for the intelligence of children is above all things logical. I -will only give one of his sayings as a proof. - -His grandmother is rather unwell, and every night he tacks on to his -prayer these simple words, “Please God make Granny well, because I love -her so.” But for greater certainty he has added on his own account, “You -know, God, Granny who lives in the Rue Saint-Louis, on the first floor.” - He says all this with an expression of simple confidence and such comic -seriousness, the little love. You understand, it is to spare God the -trouble of looking for the address. - -I leave you; I hear him cough. I do not know whether he has caught cold, -but I think he has been looking rather depressed since the morning. Do -not laugh at me, I am not otherwise uneasy. - - Yours most affectionately. - -Yesterday there was a consultation. On leaving the house my old doctor’s -eyes were moist; he strove to hide it, but I saw a tear. My child must -be very ill then? The thought is dreadful, dear. They seek to reassure -me, but I tremble. - -The night has not brought any improvement. Still this fever. If you -could see the state of the pretty little body we used to admire so. -I will not think of what God may have in store for me. Ice has been -ordered to be put to his head. His hair had to be cut off. Poor fair -little curls that used to float in the wind as he ran after his hoop. It -is terrible. I have dreadful forebodings. - -My child, my poor child! He is so weak that not a word comes now from -his pale parched lips. His large eyes that still shine in the depths -of their sockets, smile at me from time to time, but this smile is so -gentle, so faint, that it resembles a farewell. A farewell! But what -would become of me? - -This morning, thinking he was asleep, I could not restrain a sob. His -lips opened, and he said, but in a whisper so low that I had to put my -ear close down to catch it: “You do love me then, mamma?” - -Do I love him? I should die. - - NICE. - -They have brought me here and I feel no better for it. Every day my -weakness increases. I still spit blood. Besides, what do they seek to -cure me of? Yours as ever. - -If I should never return to Paris, you will find in my wardrobe his last -toys; the traces of his little fingers are still visible on them. To the -left is the branch of the blessed box that used to hang at his bedside. -Let your hands alone touch all this. Burn these dear relics, this poor -evidence of shattered happiness. I can still see... Sobs are choking me. - -Farewell, dear friend. What would you? I built too high on too unstable -a soil. I loved one object too well. - -Yours from my heart. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. OLD RECOLLECTIONS - -Cover yourselves with fine green leaves, tall trees casting your -peaceful shade. Steal through the branches, bright sunlight, and you, -studious promenaders, contemplative idlers, mammas in bright toilettes, -gossiping nurses, noisy children, and hungry babies, take possession of -your kingdom; these long walks belong to you. - -It is Sunday. Joy and festivity. The gaufre seller decks his shop and -lights his stove. The white cloth is spread on the table and piles of -golden cakes attract the customer. - -The woman who lets out chairs has put on her apron with its big pockets -for sous. The park keeper, my dear little children, has curled his -moustache, polished up his harmless sword and put on his best uniform. -See how bright and attractive the marionette theatre looks in the -sunshine, under its striped covering. - -Sunday requires all this in its honor. - -Unhappy are those to whom the tall trees of Luxembourg gardens do not -recall one of those recollections which cling to the heart like its -first perfume to a vase. - -I was a General, under those trees, a General with a plume like a -mourning coach-horse, and armed to the teeth. I held command from the -hut of the newspaper vendor to the kiosk of the gaufre seller. No false -modesty, my authority extended to the basin of the fountain, although -the great white swans rather alarmed me. Ambushes behind the tree -trunks, advanced posts behind the nursemaids, surprises, fights with -cold steel; attacks by skirmishers, dust, encounters, carnage and no -bloodshed. After which our mammas wiped our foreheads, rearranged our -dishevelled hair, and tore us away from the battle, of which we dreamed -all night. - -Now, as I pass through the garden with its army of children and nurses, -leaning on my stick with halting step, how I regret my General’s cocked -hat, my paper plume, my wooden sword and my pistol. My pistol that would -snap caps and was the cause of my rapid promotion. - -Disport yourselves, little folks; gossip, plump nurses, as you scold -your soldiers. Embroider peaceably, young mothers, making from time -to time a little game of your neighbors among yourselves; and you, -reflective idlers, look at that charming picture-babies making a garden. - -Playing in the sand, a game as old as the world and always amusing. -Hillocks built up in a line with little bits of wood stuck into them, -represent gardens in the walks of which baby gravely places his little -uncertain feet. What would he not give, dear little man, to be able -to complete his work by creating a pond in his park, a pond, a gutter, -three drops of water? - -Further on the sand is damper, and in the mountain the little fingers -pierce a tunnel. A gigantic work which the boot of a passer-by will -soon destroy. What passer-by respects a baby’s mountain? Hence the young -rascal avenges himself. See that gentleman in the brown frockcoat, who -is reading the ‘Revue des Deux Mondes’ on the bench; our workers have -piled up hillocks of sand and dust around him, the skirts of his coat -have already lost their color. - -But let this equipage noisily dashing along go by. Four horses, two bits -of string, and a fifth horse who is the driver. That is all, and yet one -fancies one’s self in a postchaise. How many places has one not visited -by nightfall? - -There are drivers who prefer to be horses, there are horses who would -rather be drivers; first symptoms of ambition. - -And the solitary baby who slowly draws his omnibus round the gaufre -seller, eyeing his shop! An indefatigable consumer, but a poor -paymaster. - -Do you see down there under the plane-trees that group of nurses, a herd -of Burgundian milch kine, and at their feet, rolling on a carpet, all -those little rosy cheeked philosophers who only ask God for a little -sunshine, pure milk, and quiet, in order to be happy. Frequently an -accident disturbs the delightful calm. The Burgundian who mistrusted -matters darts forward. It is too late. - -“The course of a river is not to be checked,” says Giboyer. - -Sometimes the disaster is still more serious, and one repairs it as -one can; but the philosopher who loves these disasters is indignant and -squalls, swearing to himself to begin again. - -Those little folk are delightful; we love children, but this affection -for the species in general becomes yet more sweet when it is no longer a -question of a baby, but of one’s own baby. - -Bachelors must not read what follows; I wish to speak to the family -circle. Between those of a trade there is a better understanding. - -I am a father, my dear madame, and have been of course the rejoicing -papa of a matchless child. From beneath his cap there escaped a fair and -curly tress that was our delight, and when I touched his white neck with -my finger he broke into a laugh and showed me his little white pearls, -as he clasped my head in his two chubby arms. - -His first tooth was an event. We went into the light the better to see. -The grandparents looked through their glasses at the little white spot, -and I, with outstretched neck, demonstrated, explained and proved. And -all at once I ran off to the cellar to seek out in the right corner a -bottle of the best. - -My son’s first tooth. We spoke of his career during dinner, and at -dessert grand-mamma gave us a song. - -After this tooth came others, and with them tears and pain, but then -when they were all there how proudly he bit into his slice of bread, how -vigorously he attacked his chop in order to eat “like papa.” - -“Like papa,” do you remember how these two words warm the heart, and how -many transgressions they cause to be forgiven. - -My great happiness,--is it yours too?--was to be present at my darling’s -awakening. I knew the time. I would gently draw aside the curtains of -his cradle and watch him as I waited. - -I usually found him stretched diagonally, lost in the chaos of sheets -and blankets, his legs in the air, his arms crossed above his head. -Often his plump little hand still clutched the toy that had helped to -send him off to sleep, and through his parted lips came the regular -murmur of his soft breathing. The warmth of his sleep had given his -cheeks the tint of a well-ripened peach. His skin was warm, and -the perspiration of the night glittered on his forehead in little -imperceptible pearls. - -Soon his hand would make a movement; his foot pushed away the blanket, -his whole body stirred, he rubbed an eye, stretched out his arms, and -then his look from under his scarcely raised eyelids would rest on me. - -He would smile at me, murmuring softly, so softly that I would hold my -breath to seize all the shades of his music. - -“Dood mornin’, papa.” - -“Good morning, my little man; have you slept well?” - -We held out our arms to each other and embraced like old friends. - -Then the talking would begin. He chatted as the lark would sing to the -rising sun. Endless stories. - -He would tell me his dreams, asking after each sentence for “his nice, -warm bread and milk, with plenty of sugar.” And when his breakfast came -up, what an outburst of laughter, what joy as he drew himself up to -reach it; then his eye would glitter with a tear in the corner, and the -chatter begin again. - -At other times he would come and surprise me in bed. I would pretend -to be asleep, and he would pull my beard and shout in my ear. I feigned -great alarm and threatened to be avenged. From this arose fights among -the counterpanes, entrenchments behind the pillows. In sign of victory -I would tickle him, and then he shuddered, giving vent to the frank and -involuntary outburst of laughter of happy childhood. He buried his head -between his two shoulders like a tortoise withdrawing into his shell, -and threatened me with his plump rosy foot. The skin of his heel was so -delicate that a young girl’s cheek would have been proud of it. How many -kisses I would cover those dear little feet with when I warmed his long -nightdress before the fire. - -I had been forbidden to undress him, because it had been found that I -entangled the knots instead of undoing them. - -All this was charming, but when it was necessary to act rigorously -and check the romping that was going too far, he would slowly drop his -eyelids, while with dilated nostrils and trembling lips he tried to keep -back the big tear glittering beneath his eyelid. - -What courage was not necessary in order to refrain from calming with -a kiss the storm on the point of bursting, from consoling the little -swollen heart, from drying the tear that was overflowing and about to -become a flood. - -A child’s expression is then so touching, there is so much grief in a -warm tear slowly falling, in a little contracted face, a little heaving -breast. - -All this is long past. Yet years have gone by without effacing these -loved recollections; and now that my baby is thirty years old and has a -heavy moustache, when he holds out his large hand and says in his bass -voice, “Good morning, father,” it still seems to me that an echo repeats -afar off the dear words of old, “Dood mornin’, papa.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. THE LITTLE BOOTS - -In the morning when I left my room, I saw placed in line before the door -his boots and mine. His were little laced-up boots rather out of shape, -and dulled by the rough usage to which he subjects them. The sole of the -left boot was worn thin, and a little hole was threatening at the toe -of the right. The laces, worn and slack, hung to the right and left. -Swellings in the leather marked the places of his toes, and the -accustomed movements of his little foot had left their traces in the -shape of creases, slight or deep. - -Why have I remembered all this? I really do not know, but it seems to -me that I can still see the boots of the dear little one placed there -on the mat beside my own, two grains of sand by two paving stones, a tom -tit beside an elephant. They were his every-day boots, his playfellows, -those with which he ascended sand hills and explored puddles. They were -devoted to him, and shared his existence so closely that something of -himself was met with again in them. I should have recognized them among -a thousand; they had an especial physiognomy about them; it seemed to -me that an invisible tie attached them to him, and I could not look at -their undecided shape, their comic and charming grace, without recalling -their little master, and acknowledging to myself that they resembled -him. - -Everything belonging to a baby becomes a bit babyish itself, and assumes -that expression of unstudied and simple grace peculiar to a child. - -Beside these laughing, gay, good-humored little boots, only asking -leave to run about the country, my own seemed monstrous, heavy, coarse, -ridiculous, with their heels. From their heavy and disabused air one -felt that for them life was a grave matter, its journeys long, and the -burden borne quite a serious one. - -The contrast was striking, and the lesson deep. I would softly approach -these little boots in order not to wake the little man who was still -asleep in the adjoining room; I felt them, I turned them over, I looked -at them on all sides, and I found a delightful smile rise to my lips. -Never did the old violet-scented glove that lay for so long in the -inmost recess of my drawer procure me so sweet an emotion. - -Paternal love is no trifle; it has its follies and weaknesses, it is -puerile and sublime, it can neither be analyzed nor explained, it is -simply felt, and I yielded myself to it with delight. - -Let the papa without weakness cast the first stone at me; the mammas -will avenge me. - -Remember that this little laced boot, with a hole in the toe, reminded -me of his plump little foot, and that a thousand recollections were -connected with that dear trifle. - -I recalled him, dear child, as when I cut his toe nails, wriggling -about, pulling at my beard, and laughing in spite of himself, for he was -ticklish. - -I recalled him as when of an evening in front of a good fire, I pulled -off his little socks. What a treat. - -I would say “one, two.” And he, clad in his long nightgown, his hands -lost in the sleeves, would wait with glittering eyes, and ready to break -into a fit of laughter for the “three.” - -At last after a thousand delays, a thousand little teasings that excited -his impatience and allowed me to snatch five or six kisses, I said -“three.” - -The sock flew away. Then there was a wild joy; he would throw himself -back on my arm, waving his bare legs in the air. From his open mouth, in -which two rows of shining little pearls could be distinguished, welled -forth a burst of ringing laughter. - -His mother, who, however, laughed too, would say the next minute, “Come, -baby, come, my little angel, you will get cold... But leave off... Will -you have done, you little demon?” - -She wanted to scold, but she could not be serious at the sight of his -fair-haired head, and flushed, smiling, happy face, thrown back on my -knee. - -She would look at me, and say: - -“He is unbearable. Good gracious! what a child.” - -But I understood that this meant: - -“Look how handsome, sturdy and healthy he is, our baby, our little man, -our son.” - -And indeed he was adorable; at least I thought so. - -I had the wisdom--I can say it now that my hair is white--not to let one -of those happy moments pass without amply profiting by it, and really I -did well. Pity the fathers who do not know how to be papas as often as -possible, who do not know how to roll on the carpet, play at being a -horse, pretend to be the great wolf, undress their baby, imitate the -barking of the dog, and the roar of the lion, bite whole mouthfuls -without hurting, and hide behind armchairs so as to let themselves be -seen. - -Pity sincerely these unfortunates. It is not only pleasant child’s play -that they neglect, but true pleasure, delightful enjoyment, the scraps -of that happiness which is greatly calumniated and accused of not -existing because we expect it to fall from heaven in a solid mass when -it lies at our feet in fine powder. Let us pick up the fragments, and -not grumble too much; every day brings us with its bread its ration of -happiness. - -Let us walk slowly and look down on the ground, searching around us -and seeking in the corners; it is there that Providence has its -hiding-places. - -I have always laughed at those people who rush through life at full -speed, with dilated nostrils, uneasy eyes, and glance rivetted on the -horizon. It seems as though the present scorched their feet, and when -you say to them, “Stop a moment, alight, take a glass of this good old -wine, let us chat a little, laugh a little, kiss your child.” - -“Impossible,” they reply; “I am expected over there. There I shall -converse, there I shall drink delicious wine, there I shall give -expansion to paternal love, there I shall be happy!” - -And when they do get “there,” breathless and tired out, and claim the -price of their fatigue, the present, laughing behind its spectacles, -says, “Monsieur, the bank is closed.” - -The future promises, it is the present that pays, and one should have a -good understanding with the one that keeps the keys of the safe. - -Why fancy that you are a dupe of Providence? - -Do you think that Providence has the time to serve up to each of you -perfect happiness, already dressed on a golden plate, and to play music -during your repast into the bargain? Yet that is what a great many -people would like. - -We must be reasonable, tuck up our sleeves and look after our cooking -ourselves, and not insist that heaven should put itself out of the way -to skim our soup. - -I used to muse on all this of an evening when my baby was in my arms, -and his moist, regular breathing fanned my hand. I thought of the happy -moments he had already given me, and was grateful to him for them. - -“How easy it is,” I said to myself, “to be happy, and what a singular -fancy that is of going as far as China in quest of amusement.” - -My wife was of my opinion, and we would sit for hours by the fire -talking of what we felt. - -“You, do you see, dear? love otherwise than I do,” she often said to me. -“Papas calculate more. Their love requires a return. They do not really -love their child till the day on which their self-esteem as its father -is flattered. There is something of ownership in it. You can analyze -paternal love, discover its causes, say ‘I love my child because he is -so and so, or so and so.’ With the mother such analysis is impossible, -she does not love her child because he is handsome or ugly, because he -does or does not resemble her, has or has not her tastes. She loves -him because she can not help it, it is a necessity. Maternal love is -an innate sentiment in woman. Paternal love is, in man, the result of -circumstances. In her love is an instinct, in him a calculation, of -which, it is true, he is unconscious, but, in short, it is the outcome -of several other feelings.” - -“That is all very fine; go on,” I said. “We have neither heart nor -bowels, we are fearful savages. What you say is monstrous.” And I -stirred the logs furiously with the tongs. - -Yet my wife was right, I acknowledged to myself. When a child comes into -the world the affection of the father is not to be compared to that of -the mother. With her it is love already. It seems that she has known him -for a long time, her pretty darling. At his first cry it might be said -that she recognized him. She seems to say, “It is he.” She takes him -without the slightest embarrassment, her movements are natural, she -shows no awkwardness, and in her two twining arms the baby finds a place -to fit him, and falls asleep contentedly in the nest created for him. -It would be thought that woman serves a mysterious apprenticeship to -maternity. Man, on the other hand, is greatly troubled by the birth of -a child. The first wail of the little creature stirs him, but in this -emotion there is more astonishment than love. His affection is not yet -born. His heart requires to reflect and to become accustomed to these -fondnesses so new to him. - -There is an apprenticeship to be served to the business of a father. -There is none to that of a mother. - -If the father is clumsy morally in his love for his firstborn, it must -be acknowledged that he is so physically in the manifestation of his -fondness. - -It is only tremblingly, and with contortions and efforts, that he lifts -the slight burden. He is afraid of smashing the youngster, who knows -this, and thence bawls with all the force of his lungs. He expands more -strength, poor man, in lifting up his child than he would in bursting -a door open. If he kisses him, his beard pricks him; if he touches -him, his big fingers cause him some disaster. He has the air of a bear -threading a needle. - -And yet it must be won, the affection of this poor father, who, at -the outset, meets nothing but misadventures; he must be captivated, -captured, made to have a taste for the business, and not be left too -long to play the part of a recruit. - -Nature has provided for it, and the father rises to the rank of corporal -the day the baby lisps his first syllables. - -It is very sweet, the first lisping utterance of a child, and admirably -chosen to move--the “pa-pa” the little creature first murmurs. It is -strange that the first word of a child should express precisely the -deepest and tenderest sentiment of all? - -Is it not touching to see that the little creature finds of himself the -word that is sure to touch him of whom he stands most in need; the word -that means, “I am yours, love me, give me a place in your heart, open -your arms to me; you see I do not know much as yet, I have only just -arrived, but, already, I think of you, I am one of the family, I shall -eat at your table, and bear your name, pa-pa, pa-pa.” - -He has discovered at once the most delicate of flatteries, the sweetest -of caresses. He enters on life by a master stroke. - -Ah! the dear little love! “Pa-pa, pa-pa,” I still hear his faint, -hesitating voice, I can still see his two coral lips open and close. -We were all in a circle around him, kneeling down to be on a level with -him. They kept saying to him, “Say it again, dear, say it again. Where -is papa?” And he, amused by all these people about him, stretched out -his arms, and turned his eyes toward me. - -I kissed him heartily, and felt that two big tears hindered me from -speaking. - -From that moment I was a papa in earnest. I was christened. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. BABIES AND PAPAS - -When the baby reaches three or four years of age, when his sex shows -itself in his actions, his tastes and his eyes, when he smashes his -wooden horses, cuts open his drums, blows trumpets, breaks the castors -off the furniture, and evinces a decided hostility to crockery; in a -word, when he is a man, it is then that the affection of a father for -his son becomes love. He feels himself invaded by a need of a special -fondness, of which the sweetest recollections of his past life can give -no idea. A deep sentiment envelopes his heart, the countless roots of -which sink into it in all directions. Defects or qualities penetrate -and feed on this sentiment. Thus, we find in paternal love all the -weaknesses and all the greatnesses of humanity. Vanity, abnegation, -pride, and disinterestedness are united together, and man in his -entirety appears in the papa. - -It is on the day which the child becomes a mirror in which you recognize -your features, that the heart is moved and awakens. Existence becomes -duplicated, you are no longer one, but one and a half; you feel your -importance increase, and, in the future of the little creature who -belongs to you, you reconstruct your own past; you resuscitate, and are -born again in him. You say to yourself: “I will spare him such and such -a vexation which I had to suffer, I will clear from his path such and -such a stone over which I stumbled, I will make him happy, and he -shall owe all to me; he shall be, thanks to me, full of talents and -attractions.” You give him, in advance, all that you did not get -yourself, and in his future arrange laurels for a little crown for your -own brows. - -Human weakness, no doubt; but what matter, provided the sentiment that -gives birth to this weakness is the strongest and purest of all? What -matter if a limpid stream springs up between two paving stones? Are -we to be blamed for being generous out of egotism, and for devoting -ourselves to others for reasons of personal enjoyment? - -Thus, in the father, vanity is the leading string. Say to any father: -“Good heavens! how like you he is!” The poor man may hesitate at saying -yes, but I defy him not to smile. He will say, “Perhaps.... Do you think -so?... Well, perhaps so, side face.” - -And do not you be mistaken; if he does so, it is that you may reply in -astonishment: “Why, the child is your very image.” - -He is pleased, and that is easily explained; for is not this likeness -a visible tie between him and his work? Is it not his signature, his -trade-mark, his title-deed, and, as it were, the sanction of his rights? - -To this physical resemblance there soon succeeds a moral likeness, -charming in quite another way. You are moved to tears when you recognize -the first efforts of this little intelligence to grasp your ideas. -Without check or examination it accepts and feeds on them. By degrees -the child shares your tastes, your habits, your ways. He assumes a deep -voice to be like papa, asks for your braces, sighs before your boots, -and sits down with admiration on your hat. He protects his mamma when he -goes out with her, and scolds the dog, although he is very much afraid -of him; all to be like papa. Have you caught him at meals with his large -observant eyes fixed on you, studying your face with open mouth -and spoon in hand, and imitating his model with an expression of -astonishment and respect. Listen to his long gossips, wandering as his -little brain; does he not say: - -“When I am big like papa I shall have a moustache and a stick like him, -and I shall not be afraid in the dark, because it is silly to be afraid -in the dark when you are big, and I shall say ‘damn it,’ for I shall -then be grown up.” - -“Baby, what did you say, sir?” - -“I said just as papa does.” - -What would you? He is a faithful mirror. You are for him an ideal, -a model, the type of all that is great and strong, handsome and -intelligent. - -Often he makes mistakes, the little dear, but his error is all the more -delicious in its sincerity, and you feel all the more unworthy of such -frank admiration. You console yourself for your own imperfections in -reflecting that he is not conscious of them. - -The defects of children are almost always harrowed from their father; -they are the consequences of a too literal copy. Provide, then, against -them. Yes, no doubt, but I ask you what strength of mind is not needed -by a poor man to undeceive his baby, to destroy, with a word, his -innocent confidence, by saying to him: “My child, I am not perfect, and -I have faults to be avoided?” - -This species of devotion on the part of the baby for his father reminds -me of the charming remark of one of my little friends. Crossing the -road, the little fellow caught sight of a policeman. He examined him -with respect, and then turning to me, after a moment’s reflection, said, -with an air of conviction: “Papa is stronger than all the policemen, -isn’t he?” - -If I had answered “No,” our intimacy would have been broken off short. - -Was it not charming? One can truly say, “Like baby, like papa.” Our life -is the threshold of his. It is with our eyes that he has first seen. - -Profit, young fathers, by the first moments of candor on the part of -your dear baby, seek to enter his heart when this little heart opens, -and establish yourself in it so thoroughly, that at the moment when the -child is able to judge you, he will love you too well to be severe or to -cease loving. Win his, affection, it is worth the trouble. - -To be loved all your life by a being you love--that is the problem to -be solved, and toward the solution of which all your efforts should be -directed. To make yourself loved, is to store up treasures of happiness -for the winter. Each year will take away a scrap of your life, contract -the circle of interests and pleasures in which you live; your mind by -degrees will lose its vigor, and ask for rest, and as you live less -and less by the mind, you will live more and more by the heart. The -affection of others which was only a pleasant whet will become a -necessary food, and whatever you may have been, statesmen or artists, -soldiers or bankers, when your heads are white, you will no longer be -anything but fathers. - -But filial love is not born all at once, nor is it necessary it should -be. The voice of nature is a voice rather poetical than truthful. The -affection of children is earned and deserved; it is a consequence, not -a cause, and gratitude is its commencement. At any cost, therefore, your -baby must be made grateful. Do not reckon that he will be grateful to -you for your solicitude, your dreams for his future, the cost of his -nursing, and the splendid dowry that you are amassing for him; such -gratitude would require from his little brain too complicated a -calculation, besides social ideas as yet unknown to him. He will not -be thankful to you for the extreme fondness you have for him; do not be -astonished at it, and do not cry out at his ingratitude. You must first -make him understand your affection; he must appreciate and judge it -before responding to it; he must know his notes before he can play -tunes. - -The little man’s gratitude will at first be nothing but a simple, -egotistical and natural calculation. If you have made him laugh, if you -have amused him, he will want you to begin again, he will hold out his -little arms to you, crying: “Do it again.” And the recollection of the -pleasure you have given him becoming impressed upon his mind, he will -soon say to himself: “No one amuses me so well as papa; it is he who -tosses me into the air, plays at hide-and-seek with me and tells me -tales.” So, by degrees, gratitude will be born in him, as thanks spring -to the lips of him who is made happy. - -Therefore, learn the art of amusing your child, imitate the crowing -of the cock, and gambol on the carpet, answer his thousand impossible -questions, which are the echo of his endless dreams, and let yourself be -pulled by the beard to imitate a horse. All this is kindness, but also -cleverness, and good King Henry IV did not belie his skilful policy by -walking on all fours on his carpet with his children on his back. - -In this way, no doubt, your paternal authority will lose something of -its austere prestige, but will gain the deep and lasting influence that -affection gives. Your baby will fear you less but will love you more. -Where is the harm. - -Do not be afraid of anything; become his comrade, in order to have the -right of remaining his friend. Hide your paternal superiority as the -commissary of police does his sash. Ask with kindness for that which you -might rightly insist upon having, and await everything from his heart -if you have known how to touch it. Carefully avoid such ugly words as -discipline, passive obedience and command; let his submission be -gentle to him, and his obedience resemble kindness. Renounce the stupid -pleasure of imposing your fancies upon him, and of giving orders to -prove your infallibility. - -Children have a keenness of judgment, and a delicacy of impression which -would not be imagined, unless one has studied them. Justice and equity -are easily born in their minds, for they possess, above all things, -positive logic. Profit by all this. There are unjust and harsh words -which remain graven on a child’s heart, and which he remembers all his -life. Reflect that, in your baby, there is a man whose affection will -cheer your old age; therefore respect him so that he may respect you; -and be sure that there is not a single seed sown in this little heart -which will not sooner or later bear fruit. - -But there are, you will say, unmanageable children, rebels from the -cradle. Are you sure that the first word they heard in their lives has -not been the cause of their evil propensities? Where there has been -rebellion, there has been clumsy pressure; for I will not believe in -natural vice. Among evil instincts there is always a good one, of which -an arm can be made to combat the others. This requires, I know, extreme -kindness, perfect tact, and unlimited confidence, but the reward is -sweet. I think, therefore, in conclusion, that a father’s first kiss, -his first look, his first caresses, have an immense influence on -a child’s life. To love is a great deal. To know how to love is -everything. - -Even were one not a father, it is impossible to pass by the dear little -ones without feeling touched, and without loving them. Muddy and ragged, -or carefully decked out; running in the roadway and rolling in the dust, -or playing at skipping rope in the gardens of the Tuileries; dabbling -among the ducklings, or building hills of sand beside well-dressed -mammas--babies are charming. In both classes there is the same grace, -the same unembarrassed movements, the same comical seriousness, the same -carelessness as to the effect created, in short, the same charm; the -charm that is called childhood, which one can not understand without -loving--which one finds just the same throughout nature, from the -opening flower and the dawning day to the child entering upon life. - -A baby is not an imperfect being, an unfinished sketch--he is a man. -Watch him closely, follow every one of his movements; they will reveal -to you a logical sequence of ideas, a marvellous power of imagination, -such as will not again be found at any period of life. There is more -real poetry in the brain of these dear loves than in twenty epics. They -are surprised and unskilled, no doubt; but nothing equals the vigor of -these minds, unexperienced, fresh, simple, sensible of the slightest -impressions, which make their way through the midst of the unknown. - -What immense labor is gone through by them in a few months! To notice -noises, classify them, understand that some of these sounds are words, -and that these words are thoughts; to find out of themselves alone the -meaning of everything, and distinguish the true from the false, the real -from the imaginary; to correct, by observation, the errors of their too -ardent imagination; to unravel a chaos, and during this gigantic task to -render the tongue supple and strengthen the staggering little legs, in -short, to become a man. If ever there was a curious and touching sight -it is that of this little creature setting out upon the conquest of -the world. As yet he knows neither doubt nor fear, and opens his heart -fully. There is something of Don Quixote about a baby. He is as comic as -the Knight, but he has also a sublime side. - -Do not laugh too much at the hesitations, the countless gropings, the -preposterous follies of this virgin mind, which a butterfly lifts to -the clouds, to which grains of sand are mountains, which understands the -twittering of birds, ascribes thoughts to flowers, and souls to dolls, -which believes in far-off realms, where the trees are sugar, the fields -chocolate, and the rivers syrup, for which Punch and Mother Hubbard are -real and powerful individuals, a mind which peoples silence and vivifies -night. Do not laugh at his love; his life is a dream, and his mistakes -poetry. - -This touching poetry which you find in the infancy of man you also find -in the infancy of nations. It is the same. In both cases there is the -same necessity of idealization, the same tendency to personify the -unknown. And it may be said that between Punch and Jupiter, Mother -Hubbard and Venus, there is only a hair’s breadth. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. HIS FIRST BREECHES - -The great desire in a child is to become a man. But the first symptom -of virility, the first serious step taken in life, is marked by the -assumption of breeches. - -This first breeching is an event that papa desires and mamma dreads. It -seems to the mother that it is the beginning of her being forsaken. -She looks with tearful eyes at the petticoat laid aside for ever, and -murmurs to herself, “Infancy is over then? My part will soon become a -small one. He will have fresh tastes, new wishes; he is no longer only -myself, his personality is asserting itself; he is some ones boy.” - -The father, on the contrary, is delighted. He laughs in his moustache to -see the little arching calves peeping out beneath the trousers; he feels -the little body, the outline of which can be clearly made out under -the new garment, and says to himself; “How well he is put together, the -rascal. He will have broad shoulders and strong loins like myself. How -firmly his little feet tread the ground.” Papa would like to see him in -jackboots; for a trifle he would buy him spurs. He begins to see himself -in this little one sprung from him; he looks at him in a fresh light, -and, for the first time, he finds a great charm in calling him “my boy.” - -As to the baby, he is intoxicated, proud, triumphant, although somewhat -embarrassed as to his arms and legs, and, be it said, without any wish -to offend him, greatly resembling those little poodles we see freshly -shaven on the approach of summer. What greatly disturbed the poor little -fellow is past. How many men of position are there who do not experience -similar inconvenience. He knows very well that breeches, like nobility, -render certain things incumbent on their possessor, that he must now -assume new ways, new gestures, a new tone of voice; he begins to scan -out of the corner of his eye the movements of his papa, who is by no -means ill pleased at this: he clumsily essays a masculine gesture or -two; and this struggle between his past and his present gives him for -some time the most comical air in the world. His petticoats haunt him, -and really he is angry that it is so. - -Dear first pair of breeches! I love you, because you are a faithful -friend, and I encounter at every step in life you and your train of -sweet sensations. Are you not the living image of the latest illusion -caressed by our vanity? You, young officer, who still measure your -moustaches in the glass, and who have just assumed for the first -time the epaulette and the gold belt, how did you feel when you went -downstairs and heard the scabbard of your sabre go clink-clank on the -steps, when with your cap on one side and your arm akimbo you found -yourself in the street, and, an irresistible impulse urging you on, you -gazed at your figure reflected in the chemist’s bottles? Will you -dare to say that you did not halt before those bottles? First pair of -breeches, lieutenant. - -You will find them again, these breeches, when you are promoted to be -Captain and are decorated. And later on, when, an old veteran with a -gray moustache, you take a fair companion to rejuvenate you, you will -again put them on; but this time the dear creature will help you to wear -them. - -And the day when you will no longer have anything more to do with them, -alas! that day you will be very low, for one’s whole life is wrapped up -in this precious garment. Existence is nothing more than putting on -our first pair of breeches, taking them off, putting them on again, and -dying with eyes fixed on them. - -Is it the truth that most of our joys have no more serious origin than -those of children? Are we then so simple? Ah! yes, my dear sir, we are -simple to this degree, that we do not think we are. We never quite get -rid of our swaddling clothes; do you see, there is always a little bit -sticking out? There is a baby in every one of us, or, rather, we are -only babies grown big. - -See the young barrister walking up and down the lobby of the courts. -He is freshly shaven: in the folds of his new gown he hides a pile of -documents, and on his head, in which a world of thought is stirring, -is a fine advocate’s coif, which he bought yesterday, and which this -morning he coquettishly crushed in with a blow from his fist before -putting it on. This young fellow is happy; amid the general din he can -distinguish the echo of his own footsteps, and the ring of his bootheels -sounds to him like the great bell of Notre Dame. In a few minutes he -will find an excuse for descending the great staircase, and crossing the -courtyard in costume. You may be sure that he will not disrobe except -to go to dinner. What joy in these five yards of black stuff; what -happiness in this ugly bit of cloth stretched over stiff cardboard! - -First pair of breeches--I think I recognize you. - -And you, Madame, with what happiness do you renew each season the -enjoyment caused by new clothes? Do not say, I beg of you, that such -enjoyments are secondary ones, for their influence is positive upon -your nature and your character. Why, I ask you, did you find so much -captivating logic, so much persuasive eloquence, in the sermon of Father -Paul? Why did you weep on quitting the church, and embrace your husband -as soon as you got home? You know better than I do, Madame, that it was -because on that day you had put on for the first time that little yellow -bonnet, which is a gem, I acknowledge, and which makes you look twice -as pretty. These impressions can scarcely be explained, but they are -invincible. There may be a trifle of childishness in it all, you will -admit, but it is a childishness that can not be got rid of. - -As a proof of it, the other day, going to St. Thomas’s to hear Father -Nicholas, who is one of our shining lights, you experienced totally -different sentiments; a general feeling of discontent and doubt and -nervous irritability at every sentence of the preacher. Your soul did -not soar heavenward with the same unreserved confidence; you left St. -Thomas’s with your head hot and your feet cold; and you so far forgot -yourself as to say, as you got into your carriage, that Father Nicholas -was a Gallican devoid of eloquence. Your coachman heard it. And, -finally, on reaching home you thought your drawing-room too small and -your husband growing too fat. Why, I again ask you, this string of -vexatious impressions? If you remember rightly, dear Madame, you wore -for the first time the day before yesterday that horrible little violet -bonnet, which is such a disgusting failure. First pair of breeches, dear -Madame. - -Would you like a final example? Observe your husband. Yesterday he went -out in a bad temper--he had breakfasted badly--and lo! in the evening, -at a quarter to seven, he came home from the Chamber joyful and -well-pleased, a smile on his lips, and good-humor in his eye. He kissed -you on the forehead with a certain unconstraint, threw a number of -pamphlets and papers with an easy gesture on the sidetable, sat down to -table, found the soup delicious, and ate joyously. “What is the matter -with my husband?” you asked yourself.... I will explain. Your husband -spoke yesterday for the first time in the building, you know. He -said--the sitting was a noisy one, the Left were threshing out some -infernal questions--he said, during the height of the uproar, and -rapping with his paper-knife on his desk: “But we can not hear!” And as -these words were received on all sides with universal approbation -and cries of “Hear, hear!” he gave his thoughts a more parliamentary -expression by adding: “The voice of the honorable gentleman who -is speaking does not reach us.” It was not much certainly, and the -amendment may have been carried all the same, but after all it was a -step; a triumph, to tell the truth, since your husband has from day to -day put off the delivery of his maiden speech. Behold a happy deputy, a -deputy who has just--put on his first pair of breeches. - -What matter whether the reason be a serious or a futile one, if your -blood flows faster, if you feel happier, if you are proud of yourself? -To win a great victory or put on a new bonnet, what matters it if this -new bonnet gives you the same joy as a laurel crown? - -Therefore do not laugh too much at baby if his first pair of breeches -intoxicates him, if, when he wears them, he thinks his shadow longer and -the trees less high. He is beginning his career as a man, dear child, -nothing more. - -How many things have not people been proud of since the beginning of the -world? They were proud of their noses under Francis the First, of their -perukes under Louis XIV, and later on of their appetites and stoutness. -A man is proud of his wife, his idleness, his wit, his stupidity, the -beard on his chin, the cravat round his neck, the hump on his back. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. COUNTRY CHILDREN - -I love the baby that runs about under the trees of the Tuileries; I -love the pretty little fair-haired girls with nice white stockings and -unmanageable crinolines. I like to watch the tiny damsels decked out -like reliquaries, and already affecting coquettish and lackadaisical -ways. It seems to me that in each of them I can see thousands of -charming faults already peeping forth. But all these miniature men and -women, exchanging postage stamps and chattering of dress, have something -of the effect of adorable monstrosities on me. - -I like them as I like a bunch of grapes in February, or a dish of green -peas in December. - -In the babies’ kingdom, my friend, my favorite is the country baby, -running about in the dust on the highway barefoot and ragged, and -searching for black birds’ and chaffinches’ nests on the outskirts -of the woods. I love his great black wondering eye, which watches you -fixedly from between two locks of un combed hair, his firm flesh bronzed -by the sun, his swarthy forehead, hidden by his hair, his smudged face -and his picturesque breeches kept from falling off by the paternal -braces fastened to a metal button, the gift of a gendarme. - -Ah! what fine breeches; not very long in the legs, but, then, what room -everywhere else! He could hide away entirely in this immense space which -allows a shirt-tail, escaping through a slit, to wave like a flag. These -breeches preserve a remembrance of all the garments of the family; here -is a piece of maternal petticoat, here a fragment of yellow waistcoat, -here a scrap of blue handkerchief; the whole sewn with a thread that -presents the twofold advantage of being seen from a distance, and of not -breaking. - -But under these patched clothes you can make out a sturdy little -figure; and, besides, what matters the clothes? Country babies are not -coquettish; and when the coach comes down the hill with jingling bells -and they rush after it, stumbling over their neighbors, tumbling with -them in the dust, and rolling into the ditches, what would all these -dear little gamins do in silk stockings? - -I love them thus because they are wild, taking alarm, and fleeing away -at your approach like the young rabbits you surprise in the morning -playing among the wild thyme. You must have recourse to a thousand -subterfuges in order to triumph over their alarm and gain their -confidence. But if at length, thanks to your prudence, you find yourself -in their company, at the outset play ceases, shouts and noise die away; -the little group remain motionless, scratching their heads, and all -their uneasy eyes look fixedly at you. This is the difficult moment. - -A sharp word, a stern gesture, may cause an eternal misunderstanding -with them, just as a kind remark, a smile, a caress will soon accomplish -their conquest. And this conquest is worth the trouble, believe me. - -One of my chief methods of winning them was as follows: I used to take -my watch out of my pocket and look at it attentively. Then I would see -my little people stretch their necks, open their eyes, and come a step -nearer; and it would often happen that the chickens, ducklings, and -geese, which were loitering close by in the grass, imitated their -comrades and drew near too. I then would put my watch to my ear and -smile like a man having a secret whispered to him. In presence of this -prodigy my youngsters could no longer restrain themselves, and would -exchange among themselves those keen, simple, timid, mocking looks, -which must have been seen to be understood. They advanced this time in -earnest, and if I offered to let the boldest listen, by holding out my -watch to him, he would draw back alarmed, although smiling, while the -band would break into an outburst of joy; the ducklings flapping their -wings, the white geese cackling, and the chickens going chk, chk. The -game was won. - -How many times have I not played this little farce, seated under a -willow on the banks of my little stream, which ripples over the white -stones, while the reeds bend tremblingly. The children would crowd round -me to hear the watch, and soon questions broke forth in chorus to an -accompaniment of laughter. They inspected my gaiters, rummaged in my -pockets and leant against my knees. The ducklings glided under my feet, -and the big geese tickled my back. - -How enjoyable it is not to alarm creatures that tremble at everything. I -would not move for fear of interrupting their joy, and was like a child -who is building a house of cards and who has got to the third story. But -I marked all these happy little faces standing out against the blue sky; -I watched the rays of the sun stealing into the tangles of their fair -hair, or spreading in a patch of gold on their little brown necks; I -followed their gestures full of awkwardness and grace; I sat down on the -grass to be the nearer to them; and if an unfortunate chicken came to -grief, between two daisies, I quickly stretched out my arm and replaced -it on its legs. - -I assure you that they were all grateful. If one loves these little -people at all, there is one thing that strikes you when you watch them -closely. Ducklings dabbling along the edge of the water or turning head -over heels in their feeding trough, young shoots thrusting forth their -tender little leaves above ground, little chickens running along before -their mother hen, or little men staggering among the grass-all these -little creatures resemble one another. They are the babies of the great -mother Nature; they have common laws, a common physiognomy; they have -something inexplicable about them which is at once comic and graceful, -awkward and tender, and which makes them loved at once; they are -relations, friends, comrades, under the same flag. This pink and white -flag, let us salute it as it passes, old graybeards that we are. It is -blessed, and is called childhood. - -All babies are round, yielding, weak, timid, and soft to the touch as -a handful of wadding. Protected by cushions of good rosy flesh or by a -coating of soft down, they go rolling, staggering, dragging along -their little unaccustomed feet, shaking in the air their plump hands -or featherless wing. See them stretched haphazard in the sun without -distinction of species, swelling themselves with milk or meal, and dare -to say that they are not alike. Who knows whether all these children of -nature have not a common point of departure, if they are not brothers of -the same origin? - -Since men with green spectacles have existed, they have amused -themselves with ticketing the creatures of this world. These latter are -arranged, divided into categories and classified, as though by a careful -apothecary who wants everything about him in order. It is no slight -matter to stow away each one in the drawer that suits him, and I have -heard that certain subjects still remain on the counter owing to their -belonging to two show-cases at once. - -And what proves to me, indeed, that these cases exist? What is there to -assure me that the whole world is not one family, the members of which -only differ by trifles which we are pleased to regard as everything? - -Have you fully established the fact of these drawers and compartments? -Have you seen the bars of these imaginary cages in which you imprison -kingdoms and species? Are there not infinite varieties which escape -your analysis, and are, as it were, the unknown links uniting all the -particles of the animated world? Why say, “For these eternity, for those -annihilation?” - -Why say, “This is the slave, that is the sovereign?” Strange boldness -for men who are ignorant of almost everything! - -Man, animal or plant, the creature vibrates, suffers or enjoys--exists -and encloses in itself the trace of the same mystery. What assures me -that this mystery, which is everywhere the same, is not the sign of a -similar relationship, is not the sign of a great law of which we are -ignorant? - -I am dreaming, you will say. And what does science do herself when she -reaches that supreme point at which magnifying glasses become obscure -and compasses powerless? It dreams, too; it supposes. Let us, too, -suppose that the tree is a man, rough skinned dreamy and silent, who -loves, too, after his fashion and vibrates to his very roots when some -evening a warm breeze, laden with the scents of the plain, blows through -his green locks and overwhelms him with kisses. No, I do not accept -the hypothesis of a world made for us. Childish pride, which would be -ridiculous did not its very simplicity lend it something poetic, alone -inspires it. Man is but one of the links of an immense chain, of the two -ends of which we are ignorant. [See Mark Twain’s essay: ‘What is Man.’ -D.W.] - -Is it not consoling to fancy that we are not an isolated power to which -the remainder of the world serves as a pedestal, that one is not a -licensed destroyer, a poor, fragile tyrant, whom arbitrary decrees -protect, but a necessary note of an infinite harmony? To fancy that the -law of life is the same in the immensity of space and irradiates worlds -as it irradiates cities and as it irradiates ant-hills. To fancy that -each vibration in ourselves is the echo of another vibration. To fancy a -sole principle, a primordial axiom, to think the universe envelops us -as a mother clasps her child in her two arms; and say to one’s self, “I -belong to it and it to me; it would cease to be without me. I should -not exist without it.” To see, in short, only the divine unity of laws, -which could not be nonexistent, where others have only seen a ruling -fancy or an individual caprice. - -It is a dream. Perhaps so, but I have often dreamed it when watching the -village children rolling on the fresh grass among the ducklings. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. AUTUMN - -Do you know the autumn, dear reader, autumn away in the country with its -squalls, its long gusts, its yellow leaves whirling in the distance, its -sodden paths, its fine sunsets, pale as an invalid’s smile, its pools of -water in the roadway; do you know all these? If you have seen all these -they are certainly not indifferent to you. One either detests or else -loves them. - -I am of the number of those who love them, and I would give two summers -for a single autumn. I adore the big blazing fires; I like to take -refuge in the chimney corner with my dog between my wet gaiters. I like -to watch the tall flames licking the old ironwork and lighting up the -black depths. You hear the wind whistling in the stable, the great door -creak, the dog pull at his chain and howl, and, despite the noise of the -forest trees which are groaning and bending close by, you can make out -the lugubrious cawings of a flock of rooks struggling against the storm. -The rain beats against the little panes; and, stretching your legs -toward the fire, you think of those without. You think of the sailors, -of the old doctor driving his little cabriolet, the hood of which sways -to and fro as the wheels sink into the ruts, and Cocotte neighs in -the teeth of the wind. You think of the two gendarmes, with the rain -streaming from their cocked hats; you see them, chilled and soaked, -making their way along the path among the vineyards, bent almost double -in the saddle, their horses almost covered with their long blue cloaks. -You think of the belated sportsman hastening across the heath, pursued -by the wind like a criminal by justice, and whistling to his dog, poor -beast, who is splashing through the marshland. Unfortunate doctor, -unfortunate gendarmes, unfortunate sportsman! - -And all at once the door opens and Baby rushes in exclaiming: “Papa, -dinner is ready.” Poor doctor! poor gendarmes! - -“What is there for dinner?” - -The cloth was as white as snow in December, the plate glittered in the -lamplight, the steam from the soup rose up under the lamp-shade, veiling -the flame and spreading an appetizing smell of cabbage. Poor doctor! -poor gendarmes! - -The doors were well closed, the curtains carefully drawn. Baby hoisted -himself on to his tall chair and stretched out his neck for his napkin -to be tied round it, exclaiming at the same time with his hands in the -air: “Nice cabbage soup.” And, smiling to myself, I said: “The youngster -has all my tastes.” - -Mamma soon came, and cheerfully pulling off her tight gloves: “There, -sir, I think, is something that you are very fond of,” she said to me. - -It was a pheasant day, and instinctively I turned round a little to -catch a glimpse on the sideboard of a dusty bottle of my old Chambertin. -Pheasant and Chambertin! Providence created them for one another and my -wife has never separated them. - -“Ah! my children, how comfortable you are here,” said I, and every one -burst out laughing. Poor gendarmes! poor doctor! - -Yes, yes, I am very fond of the autumn, and my darling boy liked it as -well as I did, not only on account of the pleasure there is in gathering -round a fine large fire, but also on account of the squalls themselves, -the wind and the dead leaves. There is a charm in braving them. How many -times we have both gone out for a walk through the country despite cold -and threatening clouds. We were wrapped up and shod with thick boots; -I took his hand and we started off at haphazard. He was five years old -then and trotted along like a little man. Heavens! it is five-and-twenty -years ago. We went up the narrow lane strewn with damp black leaves; -the tall gray poplars stripped of their foliage allowed a view of the -horizon, and we could see in the distance, under a violet sky streaked -with cold and yellowish bands, the low thatched roofs and the red -chimneys from which issued little bluish clouds blown away by the wind. -Baby jumped for joy, holding with his hand his hat which threatened to -fly off, and looking at me with eyes glittering through tears brought -into them by the breeze. His cheeks were red with cold, and quite at the -tip of his nose hung ready to drop a small transparent pearl. But he was -happy, and we skirted the wet meadows overflowed by the swollen river. -No more reeds, no more water lilies, no more flowers on the banks. Some -cows, up to mid-leg in damp herbage, were grazing quietly. - -At the bottom of a ditch, near a big willow trunk, two little girls -were huddled together under a big cloak wrapped about them. They were -watching their cows, their half bare feet in split wooden shoes and -their two little chilled faces under the large hood. From time to time -large puddles of water in which the pale sky was reflected barred the -way, and we remained for a moment beside these miniature lakes, rippling -beneath the north wind, to see the leaves float on them. They were the -last. We watched them detach themselves from the tops of the tall trees, -whirl through the air and settle in the puddles. I took my little boy in -my arms and we went through them as we could. At the boundaries of -the brown and stubble fields was an overturned plough or an abandoned -harrow. The stripped vines were level with the ground, and their damp -and knotty stakes were gathered in large piles. - -I remember that one day in one of these autumnal walks, as we gained the -top of the hill by a broken road which skirts the heath and leads to -the old bridge, the wind suddenly began to blow furiously. My darling, -overwhelmed by it, caught hold of my leg and sheltered himself in the -skirt of my coat. My dog, for his part, stiffening his four legs, with -his tail between the hind ones and his ears waving in the wind, looked -up at me too. I turned, the horizon was as gloomy as the interior of a -church. Huge black clouds were sweeping toward us, and the trees were -bending and groaning on every side under the torrents of rain driven -before the squall. I only had time to catch up my little man, who was -crying with fright, and to run and squeeze myself against a hedge -which was somewhat protected by the old willows. I opened my umbrella, -crouched down behind it, and, unbuttoning my big coat, stuffed Baby -inside. He clung closely to me. My dog placed himself between my legs, -and Baby, thus sheltered by his two friends, began to smile from the -depths of his hiding-place. I looked at him and said: - -“Well, little man, are you all right?” - -“Yes, dear papa.” - -I felt his two arms clasp round my waist--I was much thinner than I am -now--and I saw that he was grateful to me for acting as a roof to him. -Through the opening he stretched out his little lips and I bent mine -down. - -“Is it still raining outside, papa?” - -“It will soon be over.” - -“Already, I am so comfortable inside you.” - -How all this stays in your heart. It is perhaps silly to relate these -little joys, but how sweet it is to recall them. - -We reached home as muddy as two water-dogs and we were well scolded. -But when evening had come and Baby was in bed and I went to kiss him and -tickle him a little, as was our custom, he put his two little arms round -my neck and whispered: “When it rains we will go again, eh?” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. HE WOULD HAVE BEEN FORTY NOW - -When you have seen your child born, have watched his first steps in -life, have noted him smile and weep, have heard him call you papa as -he stretches out his little arms to you, you think that you have become -acquainted with all the joys of paternity, and, as though satiated with -these daily joys that are under your hand, you already begin to picture -those of the morrow. You rush ahead, and explore the future; you are -impatient, and gulp down present happiness in long draughts, instead of -tasting it drop by drop. But Baby’s illness suffices to restore you to -reason. - -To realize the strength of the ties that bind you to him, it is -necessary to have feared to see them broken; to know that a river is -deep, you must have been on the point of drowning in it. - -Recall the morning when, on drawing aside the curtain of his bed, you -saw on the pillow his little face, pale and thin. His sunken eyes, -surrounded by a bluish circle, were half closed. You met his glance, -which seemed to come through a veil; he saw you, without smiling at you. -You said, “Good morning,” and he did not answer. His face only expressed -dejection and weakness, it was no longer that of your child. He gave -a kind of sigh, and his heavy eyelids drooped. You took his hands, -elongated, transparent, and with colorless nails; they were warm and -moist. You kissed them, those poor little hands, but there was no -responsive thrill to the contact of your lips. Then you turned round, -and saw your wife weeping behind you. It was at that moment when you -felt yourself shudder from head to foot, and that the idea of a possible -woe seized on you, never more to leave you. Every moment you kept going -back to the bed and raising the curtains again, hoping perhaps that you -had not seen aright, or that a miracle had taken place; but you withdrew -quickly, with a lump in your throat. And yet you strove to smile, -to make him smile himself; you sought to arouse in him the wish for -something, but in vain; he remained motionless, exhausted, not even -turning round, indifferent to all you said, to everything, even -yourself. - -And what is all that is needed to strike down this little creature, to -reduce him to this pitch? Only a few hours. What, is that all that is -needed to put an end to him? Five minutes. Perhaps. - -You know that life hangs on a thread in this frail body, so little -fitted to suffer. You feel that life is only a breath, and say to -yourself: “Suppose this one is his last.” A little while back he was -complaining. Already he does so no longer. It seems as though someone -is clasping him, bearing him away, tearing him from your arms. Then you -draw near him, and clasp him to you almost involuntarily, as though to -give him back some of your own life. His bed is damp with fever sweats, -his lips are losing their color. The nostrils of his little nose, grown -sharp and dry, rise and fall. His mouth remains wide open. It is that -little rosy mouth which used to laugh so joyfully, those are the two -lips that used to press themselves to yours, and... all the joys, the -bursts of laughter, the follies, the endless chatter, all the bygone -happiness, flock to your recollection at the sound of that gasping, -breathing, while big hot tears fall slowly from your eyes. Poor wee man. -Your hand seeks his little legs, and you dare not touch his chest, which -you have kissed so often, for fear of encountering that ghastly leanness -which you foresee, but the contact of which would make you break out in -sobs. And then, at a certain moment, while the sunlight was flooding the -room, you heard a deeper moan, resembling a cry. You darted forward; his -face was contracted, and he looked toward you with eyes that no longer -saw. And then all was calm, silent and motionless, while his hollow -cheeks became yellow and transparent as the amber of his necklaces. - -The recollection of that moment lasts for a lifetime in the hearts of -those who have loved; and even in old age, when time has softened your -grief, when other joys and other sorrows have filled your days, his -dying bed still appears to you when sitting of an evening beside the -fire. You see amid the sparkling flames the room of the lost child, the -table with the drinks, the bottles, the arsenal of illness, the little -garments, carefully folded, that waited for him so long, his toys -abandoned in a corner. You even see the marks of his little fingers on -the wall paper, and the zigzags he made with his pencil on the door; -you see the corner scribbled over with lines and dates, in which he -was measured every month, you see him playing, running, rushing up in a -perspiration to throw himself into your arms, and, at the same time, -you also see him fixing his glazing eyes on you, or motionless and cold -under a white sheet, wet with holy water. - -Does not this recollection recur to you sometimes, Grandma, and do not -you still shed a big tear as you say to yourself: “He would have been -forty now?” Do we not know, dear old lady, whose heart still bleeds, -that at the bottom of your wardrobe, behind your jewels, beside packets -of yellow letters, the handwriting of which we will not guess at, there -is a little museum of sacred relics--the last shoes in which he played -about on the gravel the day he complained of being cold, the remains -of some broken toys, a dried sprig of box, a little cap, his last, in -a triple wrapper, and a thousand trifles that are a world to you, poor -woman, that are the fragments of your broken heart? - -The ties that unite children to parents are unloosed. Those which unite -parents to children are broken. In one case, it is the past that is -wiped out; in the other, the future that is rent away. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. CONVALESCENCE - -But, my patient reader, forget what have just said. Baby does not want -to leave you, he does not want to die, poor little thing, and if you -want a proof of it, watch him very closely; there, he smiles. - -A very faint smile like those rays of sunlight that steal between two -clouds at the close of a wet winter. You rather guess at than see -this smile, but it is enough to warm your heart. The cloud begins to -disperse, he sees you, he hears you, he knows that papa is there, -your child is restored to you. His glance is already clearer. Call him -softly. He wants to turn, but he can not yet, and for his sole answer -his little hand, which is beginning to come to life again, moves and -crumples the sheet. Just wait a little, poor impatient father, and -tomorrow, on his awakening, he will say “Papa.” You will see what good -it will do you, this “Papa,” faint as a mere breath, this first scarcely -intelligible sign of a return to life. It will seem to you that your -child has been born again a second time. - -He will still suffer, he will have further crises, the storm does not -become a calm all at once, but he will be able now to rest his head on -your shoulder, nestle in your arms among the blankets; he will be able -to complain, to ask help and relief of you with eye and voice; you will, -in short, be reunited, and you will be conscious that he suffers less -by suffering on your knees. You will hold his hand in yours, and if -you seek to go away he will look at you and grasp your finger. How many -things are expressed in this grasp. Dear sir, have you experienced it? - -“Papa, do stay with me, you help to make me better; when I am alone I -am afraid of the pain. Hold me tightly to you, and I shall not suffer so -much.” - -The more your protection is necessary to another the more you enjoy -granting it. What is it then when this other is a second self, dearer -than the first. With convalescence comes another childhood, so to speak. -Fresh astonishments, fresh joys, fresh desires come one by one as health -is restored. But what is most touching and delightful, is that -delicate coaxing by the child who still suffers and clings to you, that -abandonment of himself to you, that extreme weakness that gives him -wholly over to you. At no period of his life has he so enjoyed your -presence, has he taken refuge so willingly in your dressing-gown, has he -listened more attentively to your stories and smiled more intelligently -at your merriment. Is it true, as it seems to you, that he has never -been more charming? Or is it simply that threatened danger has caused -you to set a higher value on his caresses, and that you count over -your treasures with all the more delight because you have been all but -ruined? - -But the little man is up again. Beat drums; sound trumpets; come out of -your hiding-places, broken horses; stream in, bright sun; a song from -you little birds. The little king comes to life again--long live the -king! And you, your majesty, come and kiss your father. - -What is singular is that this fearful crisis you have gone through -becomes in some way sweet to you; you incessantly recur to it, you -speak of it, you speak of it and cherish it in your mind; and, like the -companions of AEneas, you seek by the recollection of past dangers to -increase the present joy. - -“Do you remember,” you say, “the day when he was so ill? Do you remember -his dim eyes, his poor; thin, little arm, and his pale lips? And that -morning the doctor went away after clasping our hands?” - -It is only Baby who does not remember anything. He only feels an -overpowering wish to restore his strength, fill out his cheeks and -recover his calves. - -“Papa, are we going to have dinner soon, eh, papa?” - -“Yes, it is getting dusk, wait a little.” - -“But, papa, suppose we don’t wait?” - -“In twenty minutes, you little glutton.” - -“Twenty, is twenty a great many? If you eat twenty cutlets would it make -you ill? But with potatoes, and jam, and soup, and--is it still twenty -minutes?” - -Then again: “Papa, when there is beef with sauce,” he has his mouth full -of it, “red tomato sauce.” - -“Yes, dear, well?” - -“Well, a bullock is much bigger than what is on the dish; why don’t they -bring the rest of the bullock? I could eat it all and then some bread -and then some haricots, and then--” - -He is insatiable when he has his napkin under his chin, and it is a -happiness to see the pleasure he feels in working his jaws. His little -eyes glisten, his cheeks grow red; what he puts away into his little -stomach it is impossible to say, and so busy is he that he has scarcely -time to laugh between two mouthfuls. Toward dessert his ardor slackens, -his look becomes more and more languid, his fingers relax and his eyes -close from time to time. - -“Mamma, I should like to go to bed,” he says, rubbing his eyes. Baby is -coming round. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. FAMILY TIES - -The exhilaration of success and the fever of life’s struggle take a man -away from his family, or cause him to live amid it as a stranger, and -soon he no longer finds any attractions in the things which charmed -him at the outset. But let ill luck come, let the cold wind blow rather -strongly, and he falls back upon himself, he seeks near him something to -support him in his weakness, a sentiment to replace his vanished dream, -and he bends toward his child, he takes his wife’s hand and presses it. -He seems to invite these two to share his burden. Seeing tears in the -eyes of those he loves, his own seem diminished to that extent. It would -seem that moral suffering has the same effect as physical pain. The -drowning wretch clutches at straws; in the same way, the man whose heart -is breaking clasps his wife and children to him. He asks in turn for -help, protection, and comfort, and it is a touching thing to see the -strong shelter himself in the arms of the weak and recover courage in -their kiss. Children have the instinct of all this; and the liveliest -emotion they are capable of feeling is that which they experience on -seeing their father weep. - -Recall, dear reader, your most remote recollections, seek in that past -which seems to you all the clearer the farther you are removed from it. -Have you ever seen your father come home and sit down by the fire with -a tear in his eye? Then you dared not draw near him at first, so deeply -did you feel his grief. How unhappy he must be for his eyes to be -wet. Then you felt that a tie attached you to this poor man, that his -misfortune struck you too, that a part of it was yours, and that you -were smitten because your father was. And no one understands better -than the child this joint responsibility of the family to which he owes -everything. You have felt all this; your heart has swollen as you stood -silent in the corner, and sobs have broken forth as, without knowing -why, you have held out your arms toward him. He has turned, he has -understood all, he has not been able to restrain his grief any further, -and you have remained clasped in one another’s arms, father, mother, -and child, without saying anything, but gazing at and understanding one -another. Did you, however, know the cause of the poor man’s grief? - -Not at all. - -This is why filial love and paternal love have been poetized, why the -family is styled holy. It is because one finds therein the very source -of that need of loving, helping and sustaining one another, which from -time to time spreads over the whole of society, but in the shape of a -weakened echo. It is only from time to time in history that we see a -whole nation gather together, retire within itself and experience the -same thrill. - -A frightful convulsion is needed to make a million men hold out their -hands to one another and understand one another at a glance; it needs -a superhuman effort for the family to become the nation, and for the -boundaries of the hearth to extend to the frontiers. - -A complaint, a pang, a tear, is enough to make a man, a woman, and a -child, blend their hearts together and feel that they are but one. - -Laugh at marriage; the task is easy. All human contracts are tainted -with error, and an error is always smiled at by those who are not the -victims of it. There are husbands, it is certain; and when we see a man -tumble down, even if he knocks his brains out, our first impulse it -to burst out laughing. Hence the great and eternal mirth that greets -Sganarelle. - -But search to the bottom and behold that beneath all these trifles, -beneath all this dust of little exploded vanities, ridiculous mistakes -and comical passions, is hidden the very pivot of society. Verify that -in this all is for the best, since this family sentiment, which is the -basis of society, is also its consolation and joy. - -The honor of our flag, the love of country, and all that urges a man to -devote himself to something or some one not himself, are derived from -this sentiment, and in it, you may assert, is to be found the source -whence flow the great streams at which the human heart quenches its -thirst. - -Egotism for three, you say. What matter, if this egotism engenders -devotion? - -Will you reproach the butterfly with having been a caterpillar? - -Do not accuse me in all this of exaggeration, or of poetic exaltation. - -Yes, family life is very often calm and commonplace, the stock-pot -that figures on its escutcheon has not been put there without reason, I -admit. To the husband who should come and say to me: “Sir, for two days -running I have fallen asleep by the fireside,” I should reply: “You are -too lazy, but after all I understand you.” - -I also understand that Baby’s trumpet is noisy, that articles of -jewellery are horribly dear, that lace flounces and sable trimmings are -equally so, that balls are wearisome, that Madame has her vapors, her -follies, exigencies; I understand, in short, that a man whose career is -prosperous looks upon his wife and child as two stumbling blocks. - -But I am waiting for the happy man, for the moment when his forehead -will wrinkle, when disappointment will descend upon his head like a -leaden skull-cap, and when picking up the two blocks he has cursed he -will make two crutches of them. - -I admit that Alexander the Great, Napoleon the First, and all the -demi-gods of humanity, have only felt at rare intervals the charm of -being fathers and husbands; but we other poor little men, who are less -occupied, must be one or the other. - -I do not believe in the happy old bachelor; I do not believe in -the happiness of all those who, from stupidity or calculation, have -withdrawn themselves from the best of social laws. A great deal has -been said on this subject, and I do not wish to add to the voluminous -documents in this lawsuit. Acknowledge frankly all you who have heard -the cry of your new-born child and felt your heart tingle like a glass -on the point of breaking, unless you are idiots, acknowledge that you -said to yourselves: “I am in the right. Here, and here alone, lies man’s -part. I am entering on a path, beaten and worn, but straight; I shall -cross the weary downs, but each step will bring me nearer the village -spire. I am not wandering through life, I am marching on, I stir with my -feet the dust in which my father has planted his. My child, on the same -road, will find the traces of my footsteps, and, perhaps, on seeing that -I have not faltered, will say: ‘Let me act like my old father and not -lose myself in the ploughed land.’” - -If the word holy has still a meaning, despite the uses it has been put -to, I do not see that a better use can be made of it than by placing it -beside the word family. - -They speak of progress, justice, general well-being, infallible -policies, patriotism, devotion. I am for all these good things, but this -bright horizon is summed up in these three words: “Love your neighbor,” - and this is precisely, in my opinion, the thing they forget to teach. - -To love your neighbor is as simple as possible, but the mischief is that -you do not meet with this very natural feeling. There are people who -will show you the seed in the hollow of their hand, but even those who -deal in this precious grain are the last to show you it in leaf. - -Well, my dear reader, this little plant which should spring up like -the poppies in the wheat, this plant which has never been seen growing -higher than watercress, but which should overtop the oaks, this -undiscoverable plant, I know where it grows. - -It grows beside the domestic hearth, between the shovel and tongs; it is -there that it perpetuates itself, and if it still exists, it is to the -family that we owe it. I love pretty nearly all the philanthropists and -saviours of mankind; but I only believe in those who have learned to -love others by embracing their own children. - -Mankind can not be remodelled to satisfy the wants of humanitarian -theories; man is egotistical, and he loves, above all, those who are -about him. This is the natural human sentiment, and it is this which -must be enlarged, extended and cultivated. In a word, it is in family -love that is comprised love of country and consequently of humanity. It -is from fathers that citizens are made. - -Man has not twenty prime movers, but only one in his heart; do not argue -but profit by it. - -Affection is catching. Love between three--father, mother, and -child--when it is strong, soon requires space; it pushes back the walls -of the house, and by degrees invites the neighbors. The important thing, -then, is to give birth to this love between three; for it is madness, -I am afraid, to thrust the whole human species all at once on a man’s -heart. Such large mouthfuls are not to be swallowed at a gulp, nor -without preparation. - -This is why I have always thought that with the numerous sous given for -the redemption of the little Chinese, we might in France cause the fire -to sparkle on hearths where it sparkles no longer, make many eyes grow -brighter round a tureen of smoking soup, warm chilled mothers, bring -smiles to the pinched faces of children, and give pleasure and happiness -to poor discouraged ones on their return home. - -What a number of hearty kisses you might have brought about with all -these sous, and, in consequence, what a sprinkling with the watering-pot -for the little plant you wot of. - -“But then what is to become of the redemption of the little Chinese?” - -We will think of this later; we must first know how to love our own -before we are able to love those of others. - -No doubt, this is brutal and egotistical, but you can not alter it; it -is out of small faults that you build up great virtues. And, after all, -do not grumble, this very vanity is the foundation stone of that great -monument--at present still propped up by scaffolding--which is called -Society. - - - ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS: - - A ripe husband, ready to fall from the tree - Affection is catching - All babies are round, yielding, weak, timid, and soft - And I shall say ‘damn it,’ for I shall then be grown up - Answer “No,” but with a little kiss which means “Yes” - As regards love, intention and deed are the same - But she thinks she is affording you pleasure - Clumsily, blew his nose, to the great relief of his two arms - Do not seek too much - Emotion when one does not share it - First impression is based upon a number of trifles - He Would Have Been Forty Now - Hearty laughter which men affect to assist digestion - How many things have not people been proud of - How rich we find ourselves when we rummage in old drawers - Husband who loves you and eats off the same plate is better - I would give two summers for a single autumn - I do not accept the hypothesis of a world made for us - I came here for that express purpose - I am not wandering through life, I am marching on - Ignorant of everything, undesirous of learning anything - In his future arrange laurels for a little crown for your own - It (science) dreams, too; it supposes - It is silly to blush under certain circumstances - Learned to love others by embracing their own children - Life is not so sweet for us to risk ourselves in it singlehanded - Love in marriage is, as a rule, too much at his ease - Man is but one of the links of an immense chain - Rather do not give--make yourself sought after - Reckon yourself happy if in your husband you find a lover - Recollection of past dangers to increase the present joy - Respect him so that he may respect you - Shelter himself in the arms of the weak and recover courage - Sometimes like to deck the future in the garments of the past - The heart requires gradual changes - The future that is rent away - The recollection of that moment lasts for a lifetime - The future promises, it is the present that pays - Their love requires a return - There are pious falsehoods which the Church excuses - Ties that unite children to parents are unloosed - Ties which unite parents to children are broken - To be able to smoke a cigar without being sick - To love is a great deal--To know how to love is everything - We are simple to this degree, that we do not think we are - When time has softened your grief - Why mankind has chosen to call marriage a man-trap - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Monsieur, Madame and Bebe, Complete -by Gustave Droz - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONSIEUR, MADAME AND BEBE, *** - -***** This file should be named 3926-0.txt or 3926-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/2/3926/ - -Produced by David Widger - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - https://www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/old-2025-02-20/3926-0.zip b/old/old-2025-02-20/3926-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index c57f662..0000000 --- a/old/old-2025-02-20/3926-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/old-2025-02-20/3926-h.zip b/old/old-2025-02-20/3926-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 97f498a..0000000 --- a/old/old-2025-02-20/3926-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/old-2025-02-20/3926-h/3926-h.htm b/old/old-2025-02-20/3926-h/3926-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index ac6d43d..0000000 --- a/old/old-2025-02-20/3926-h/3926-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10269 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> - -<!DOCTYPE html - PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> - <head> - <title> - Monsieur, Madame and Bebe, by Gustave Droz - </title> - <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - -</style> - </head> - <body> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> -Project Gutenberg's Monsieur, Madame and Bebe, Complete, by Gustave Droz - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Monsieur, Madame and Bebe, Complete - -Author: Gustave Droz - -Release Date: October 5, 2006 [EBook #3926] -Last Updated: August 23, 2016 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONSIEUR, MADAME AND BEBE, *** - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - - -</pre> - - <h1> - MONSIEUR, MADAME AND BEBE - </h1> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <h2> - By Gustave Droz - </h2> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <p> - Antoine-Gustave Droz was born in Paris, June 9, 1832. He was the son of - Jules-Antoine Droz, a celebrated French sculptor, and grand son of Jean - Pierre Droz, master of the mint and medalist under the Directoire. The - family is of Swiss origin. Gustave entered L’Ecole des Beaux Arts and - became quite a noted artist, coming out in the Salon of 1857 with the - painting ‘L’Obole de Cesar’. He also exhibited a little later various - ‘tableaux de genre’: ‘Buffet de chemin de fer’ (1863), ‘A la Sacristie’ - and ‘Un Succes de Salon’ (1864), ‘Monsieur le Cure, vous avez Raison’ and - ‘Un Froid Sec’ (1865). - </p> - <p> - Toward this period, however, he abandoned the art of painting and launched - on the career of an author, contributing under the name of Gustave Z.... - to ‘La Vie Parisienne’. His articles found great favor, he showed himself - an exquisite raconteur, a sharp observer of intimate family life, and a - most penetrating analyst. The very gallant sketches, later reunited in - ‘Monsieur, Madame, et Bebe’ (1866), and crowned by the Academy, have gone - through many editions. ‘Entre nous’ (1867) and ‘Une Femme genante’, are - written in the same humorous strain, and procured him many admirers by the - vivacious and sparkling representations of bachelor and connubial life. - However, Droz knows very well where to draw the line, and has formally - disavowed a lascivious novel published in Belgium—‘Un Ete a la - campagne’, often, but erroneously, attributed to him. - </p> - <p> - It seems that Gustave Droz later joined the pessimistic camp. His works, - at least, indicate other qualities than those which gained for him the - favor of the reading public. He becomes a more ingenious romancer, a more - delicate psychologist. If some of his sketches are realistic, we must - consider that realism is not intended ‘pour les jeunes filles du - pensiannat’. - </p> - <p> - Beside the works mentioned in the above text, Gustave Droz wrote: ‘Le - Cahier bleu de Mademoiselle Cibot (1868), ‘Auteur d’une Source (1869), ‘Un - Paquet de Lettres’ (1870), ‘Babolain’ (1872), ‘Les Etangs’ (1875), - ‘Tristesses et Sourires (1883), and L’Enfant (1884). - </p> - <p> - He died in Paris, October 22, 1895. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - CAMILLE DOUCET - de l’Academie Francaise. -</pre> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <blockquote> - <p class="toc"> - <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>BOOK 1.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a>MY FIRST SUPPER PARTY <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a>THE SOUL IN AGONY. TO MONSIEUR - CLAUDE DE L———— <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a>MADAME DE K. <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a>SOUVENIRS OF LENT <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a>MADAME AND HER FRIEND CHAT BY THE - FIRESIDE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a>A DREAM - <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a>AN EMBASSY BALL - <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a>MY AUNT AS VENUS - <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a>HUSBAND AND WIFE MY - DEAR SISTERS: <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a>MADAME’S - IMPRESSIONS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a>A - WEDDING NIGHT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a>THE - HONEYMOON <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> <b>BOOK 2.</b> </a> <br /><br /> - <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a>THE BLUE NOTE-BOOK <br /><br /> - <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a>THE BLUE NOTE-BOOK AGAIN <br /><br /> - <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a>MY WIFE GOES TO A DANCE <br /><br /> - <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a>A FALSE ALARM <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a>I SUP WITH MY WIFE <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a>FROM ONE THING TO ANOTHER <br /><br /> - <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a>A LITTLE CHAT <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2H_4_0022"> <b>BOOK 3.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a>THE HOT-WATER BOTTLE <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a>A LONGING <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a>FAMILY LIFE <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a>NEW YEAR’S DAY <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a>LETTERS OF A YOUNG MOTHER TO HER - FRIEND <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a>FOUR YEARS - LATER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a>OLD - RECOLLECTIONS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a>THE - LITTLE BOOTS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. </a>BABIES - AND PAPAS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a>HIS - FIRST BREECHES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. </a>COUNTRY - CHILDREN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. </a>AUTUMN - <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. </a>HE WOULD HAVE - BEEN FORTY NOW <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII. - </a>CONVALESCENCE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0034"> - CHAPTER XXXIV. </a>FAMILY TIES <br /><br /> - </p> - </blockquote> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <h2> - BOOK 1. - </h2> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER I. MY FIRST SUPPER PARTY - </h2> - <p> - The devil take me if I can remember her name, notwithstanding I dearly - loved her, the charming girl! - </p> - <p> - It is strange how rich we find ourselves when we rummage in old drawers; - how many forgotten sighs, how many pretty little trinkets, broken, - old-fashioned, and dusty, we come across. But no matter. I was now - eighteen, and, upon my honor, very unsuspecting. It was in the arms of - that dear—I have her name at the tip of my tongue, it ended in “ine”—it - was in her arms, the dear child, that I murmured my first words of love, - while I was close to her rounded shoulder, which had a pretty little mole, - where I imprinted my first kiss. I adored her, and she returned my - affection. - </p> - <p> - I really think I should have married her, and that cheerfully, I can - assure you, if it had not been that on certain details of moral weakness - her past life inspired me with doubts, and her present with uneasiness. No - man is perfect; I was a trifle jealous. - </p> - <p> - Well, one evening—it was Christmas eve—I called to take her to - supper with a friend of mine whom I esteemed much, and who became an - examining magistrate, I do not know where, but he is now dead. - </p> - <p> - I went upstairs to the room of the sweet girl, and was quite surprised to - find her ready to start. She had on, I remember, a square-cut bodice, a - little too low to my taste, but it became her so well that when she - embraced me I was tempted to say: “I say, pet, suppose we remain here”; - but she took my arm, humming a favorite air of hers, and we soon found - ourselves in the street. - </p> - <p> - You have experienced, have you not, this first joy of the youth who at - once becomes a man when he has his sweetheart on his arm? He trembles at - his boldness, and scents on the morrow the paternal rod; yet all these - fears are dissipated in the presence of the ineffable happiness of the - moment. He is free, he is a man, he loves, he is loved, he is conscious - that he is taking a forward step in life. He would like all Paris to see - him thus, yet he is afraid of being recognized; he would give his little - finger to grow three hairs on his upper lip, and to have a wrinkle on his - brow, to be able to smoke a cigar without being sick, and to polish off a - glass of punch without coughing. - </p> - <p> - When we reached my friend’s, the aforesaid examining magistrate, we found - a numerous company; from the anteroom we could hear bursts of laughter, - noisy conversation, accompanied by the clatter of plate and crockery, - which was being placed upon the table. I was a little excited; I knew that - I was the youngest of the party, and I was afraid of appearing awkward on - that night of revelry. I said to myself: “Old boy, you must face the - music, do the grand, and take your liquor like a little man; your - sweetheart is here, and her eyes are fixed on you.” The idea, however, - that I might be ill next morning did indeed trouble me; in my mind’s eye, - I saw my poor mother bringing me a cup of tea, and weeping over my - excesses, but I chased away all such thoughts and really all went well up - till suppertime. My sweetheart had been pulled about a little, no doubt; - one or two men had even kissed her under my very nose, but I at once set - down these details to the profit and loss column, and in all sincerity I - was proud and happy. - </p> - <p> - “My young friends,” suddenly exclaimed our host, “it is time to use your - forks vigorously. Let us adjourn to the diningroom.” - </p> - <p> - Joyful shouts greeted these words, and, amid great disorder, the guests - arranged themselves round the table, at each end of which I noticed two - plates filled up with those big cigars of which I could not smoke a - quarter without having a fit of cold shivers. - </p> - <p> - “Those cigars will lead to a catastrophe, if I don’t use prudence and - dissemble,” said I to myself. - </p> - <p> - I do not know how it was, but my sweetheart found herself seated on the - left of the host. I did not like that, but what could I say? And then, the - said host, with his twenty-five summers, his moustache curled up at the - ends, and his self-assurance, seemed to me the most ideal, the most - astounding of young devils, and I felt for him a shade of respect. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” he said, with captivating volubility, “you are feeling yourself at - home, are you not? You know any guest who feels uncomfortable in his coat - may take it off... and the ladies, too. Ha! ha! ha! That’s the way to make - one’s self happy, is it not, my little dears?” And before he had finished - laughing he printed a kiss right and left on the necks of his two - neighbors, one of whom, as I have already said, was my beloved. - </p> - <p> - The ill-bred dog! I felt my hair rise on end and my face glow like red-hot - iron. For the rest, everybody burst out laughing, and from that moment the - supper went on with increased animation. - </p> - <p> - “My young friends,” was the remark of that infernal examining magistrate, - “let us attack the cold meat, the sausages, the turkey, the salad; let us - at the cakes, the cheese, the oysters, and the grapes; let us attack the - whole show. Waiter, draw the corks and we will eat up everything at once, - eh, my cherubs? No ceremony, no false delicacy. This is fine fun; it is - Oriental, it is splendid. In the centre of Africa everybody acts in this - manner. We must introduce poetry into our pleasures. Pass me some cheese - with my turkey. Ha! ha! ha! I feel queer, I am wild, I am crazy, am I not, - pets?” And he bestowed two more kisses, as before. If I had not been - already drunk, upon my honor, I should have made a scene. - </p> - <p> - I was stupid. Around me they were laughing, shouting, singing, and - rattling their plates. A racket of popping corks and breaking glasses - buzzed in my ears, but it seemed to me that a cloud had risen between me - and the outer world; a veil separated me from the other guests, and, in - spite of the evidence of my senses, I thought I was dreaming. I could - distinguish, however, though in a confused manner, the animated glances - and heightened color of the guests, and, above all, a disorder quite new - to me in the toilettes of the ladies. Even my sweetheart appeared to have - changed. Suddenly—it was as a flash of lightning—my beloved, - my angel, my ideal, she whom that very morning I was ready to marry, - leaned toward the examining magistrate and—I still feel the cold - shudder—devoured three truffles which were on his plate. - </p> - <p> - I experienced keen anguish; it seemed to me as if my heart were breaking - just then. - </p> - <p> - Here my recollections cease. What then took place I do not know. All I - remember is that some one took me home in a cab. I kept asking: “Where is - she? Where? Oh, where?” - </p> - <p> - I was told that she had left two hours before. The next morning I - experienced a keen sense of despair when the truffles of the examining - magistrate came back to mind. For a moment I had a vague idea of entering - upon holy orders, but time—you know what it is—calmed my - troubled breast. But what the devil was her name? It ended in “ine.” - Indeed, no, I believe it ended in “a.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II. THE SOUL IN AGONY. TO MONSIEUR CLAUDE DE L———— - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - Seminary of P———sur-C———- - - (Haute-Saone). -</pre> - <p> - It affords me unspeakable pleasure to sit down to address you, dear - Claude. Must I tell you that I can not think without pious emotion of that - life which but yesterday we were leading together at the Jesuits’ College. - How well I remember our long talks under the great trees, the pious - pilgrimages we daily made to the Father Superior’s Calvary, our charming - readings, the darting forth of our two souls toward the eternal source of - all greatness and all goodness. I can still see the little chapel which - you fitted up one day in your desk, the pretty wax tapers we made for it, - which we lighted one day during the cosmography class. - </p> - <p> - Oh, sweet recollections, how dear you are to me! Charming details of a - calm and holy life, with what happiness do I recall you! Time in - separating you from me seems only to have brought you nearer in - recollection. I have seen life, alas! during these six long months, but, - in acquiring a knowledge of the world, I have learned to love still more - the innocent ignorance of my past existence. Wiser than myself, you have - remained in the service of the Lord; you have understood the divine - mission which had been reserved for you; you have been unwilling to step - over the profane threshold and to enter the world, that cavern, I ought to - say, in which I am now assailed, tossed about like a frail bark during a - tempest. Nay, the anger of the waves of the sea compared to that of the - passions is mere child’s play. Happy friend, who art ignorant of what I - have learned. Happy friend, whose eyes have not yet measured the abyss - into which mine are already sunk. - </p> - <p> - But what was I to do? Was I not obliged—despite my vocation and the - tender friendship which called me to your side—was I not obliged, I - say, to submit to the exigencies imposed by the name I bear, and also to - the will of my father, who destined me for a military career in order to - defend a noble cause which you too would defend? In short, I obeyed and - quitted the college of the Fathers never to return again. - </p> - <p> - I went into the world, my heart charged with the salutary fears which our - pious education had caused to grow up there. I advanced cautiously, but - very soon recoiled horror-stricken. I am eighteen; I am still young, I - know, but I have already reflected much, while the experience of my pious - instructors has imparted to my soul a precocious maturity which enables me - to judge of many things; besides my faith is so firmly established and so - deeply rooted in my being, that I can look about me without danger. I do - not fear for my own salvation, but I am shocked when I think of the future - of our modern society, and I pray the Lord fervently, from a heart - untainted by sin, not to turn away His countenance in wrath from our - unhappy country. Even here, at the seat of my cousin, the Marchioness K———de - C———, where I am at the present moment, I can discover - nothing but frivolity among the men, and dangerous coquetry among the - women. The pernicious atmosphere of the period seems to pervade even the - highest rank of the French aristocracy. Sometimes discussions occur on - matters pertaining to science and morals, which aim a kind of indirect - blow at religion itself, of which our Holy Father the Pope should alone be - called on to decide. In this way God permits, at the present day, certain - petty savants, flat-headed men of science, to explain in a novel fashion - the origin of humanity, and, despite the excommunication which will - certainly overtake them, to throw down a wild and impious challenge at the - most venerable traditions. - </p> - <p> - I have not myself desired to be enlightened in regard to such base - depravity, but I have heard with poignant grief men with great minds and - illustrious names attach some importance to it. - </p> - <p> - As to manners and customs, they are, without being immoral, which would be - out of the question in our society, distinguished by a frivolity and a - faculty for being carried away with allurements which are shocking in the - extreme. I will only give you a single example of this, although it is one - that has struck me most forcibly. - </p> - <p> - Ten minutes’ walk from the house there is a charming little stream - overshadowed by spreading willows; the current is slight, the water - pellucid, and the bed covered with sand so fine that one’s feet sink into - it like a carpet. Now, would you believe it, dear friend, that, in this - hot weather, all those staying at the house go at the same time, together, - and, without distinction of sex, bathe in it? A simple garment of thin - stuff, and very tight, somewhat imperfectly screens the strangely daring - modesty of the ladies. Forgive me, my pious friend, for entering into all - these details, and for troubling the peacefulness of your soul by this - picture of worldly scenes, but I promised to share with you my - impressions, as well as my most secret thoughts. It is a sacred contract - which I am fulfilling. - </p> - <p> - I will, therefore, acknowledge that these bathing scenes shocked me - greatly, the first time I heard them spoken of. I resented it with a - species of disgust easy to understand, while I positively refused to take - part in them. To speak the truth, I was chafed a little; still, these - worldly railleries could not touch me, and had no effect on my - determination. - </p> - <p> - Yesterday, however, about five in the afternoon, the Marchioness sent for - me, and managed the affair so neatly, that it was impossible for me not to - act as her escort. - </p> - <p> - We started. The maid carried the bathing costumes both of the Marchioness - and of my sister, who was to join us later. - </p> - <p> - “I know,” said my cousin, “that you swim well; the fame of your abilities - has reached us here from your college. You are going to teach me to float, - eh, Robert?” - </p> - <p> - “I do not set much store by such paltry physical acquirements, cousin,” I - replied; “I swim fairly, nothing more.” - </p> - <p> - And I turned my head to avoid an extremely penetrating aroma with which - her hair was impregnated. You know very well that I am subject to nervous - attacks. - </p> - <p> - “But, my dear child, physical advantages are not so much to be despised.” - </p> - <p> - This “dear child” displeased me much. My cousin is twenty-six, it is true, - but I am no longer, properly speaking, a “dear child,” and besides, it - denoted a familiarity which I did not care for. It was, on the part of the - Marchioness, one of the consequences of that frivolity of mind, that - carelessness of speech which I mentioned above, and nothing more; still, I - was shocked at it. She went on: - </p> - <p> - “Exaggerated modesty is not good form in society,” she said, turning - toward me with a smile. “You will, in time, make a very handsome cavalier, - my dear Robert, and that which you now lack is easy to acquire. For - instance, you should have your hair dressed by the Marquis’s valet. He - will do it admirably, and then you will be charming.” - </p> - <p> - You must understand, my dear Claude, that I met these advances with a - frigidity of manner that left no doubt as to my intentions. - </p> - <p> - “I repeat, my cousin,” said I to her, “I attach to all this very little - importance,” and I emphasized my words by a firm and icy look. Then only, - for I had not before cast my eyes on her, did I notice the peculiar - elegance of her toilette, an elegance for which, unhappily, the perishable - beauty of her person served as a pretext and an encouragement. - </p> - <p> - Her arms were bare, and her wrists covered with bracelets; the upper part - of her neck was insufficiently veiled by the too slight fabric of a - transparent gauze; in short, the desire to please was displayed in her by - all the details of her appearance. I was stirred at the aspect of so much - frivolity, and I felt myself blush for pity, almost for shame. - </p> - <p> - We reached, at length, the verge of the stream. She loosed my arm and - unceremoniously slid down, I can not say seated herself, upon the grass, - throwing back the long curls depending from her chignon. The word chignon, - in the language of society, denotes that prominence of the cranium which - is to be seen at the back of ladies’ heads. It is produced by making coils - or plaits of their long hair. I have cause to believe, from certain - allusions I have heard, that many of these chignons are not natural. There - are women, most worthy daughters of Eve, who purchase for gold the hair—horyesco - referens—of the wretched or the dead. It sickens one. - </p> - <p> - “It is excessively hot, my dear cousin,” said she, fanning herself. “I - tremble every moment in such weather lest Monsieur de Beaurenard’s nose - should explode or catch fire. Ha, ha, ha. Upon my word of honor I do.” - </p> - <p> - She exploded with laughter at this joke, an unbecoming one, and without - much point. Monsieur de Beaurenard is a friend of the Marquis, who happens - to have a high color. Out of politeness, I forced a smile, which she, no - doubt, took for approbation, for she then launched out into conversation—an - indescribable flow of chatter, blending the most profane sentiments with - the strangest religious ideas, the quiet of the country with the whirl of - society, and all this with a freedom of gesture, a charm of expression, a - subtlety of glance, and a species of earthly poesy, by which any other - soul than mine would have been seduced. - </p> - <p> - “This is a pretty spot, this charming little nook, is it not?” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly, my dear cousin.” - </p> - <p> - “And these old willows with their large tops overhanging the stream; see - how the field-flowers cluster gayly about their battered trunks! How - strange, too, that young foliage, so elegant, so silvery, those branches - so slender and so supple! So much elegance, freshness and youth shooting - up from that old trunk which seems as if accursed!” - </p> - <p> - “God does not curse a vegetable, my cousin.” - </p> - <p> - “That is possible; but I can not help finding in willows something which - is suggestive of humanity. Perpetual old age resembles punishment. That - old reprobate of the bank there is expiating and suffering, that old - Quasimodo of the fields. What would you that I should do about it, my - cousin, for that is the impression that it gives me? What is there to tell - me that the willow is not the final incarnation of an impenitent angler?” - And she burst out laughing. - </p> - <p> - “Those are pagan ideas, and as such are so opposed to the dogmas of faith, - that I am obliged, in order to explain their coming from your mouth, to - suppose that you are trying to make a fool of me.” - </p> - <p> - “Not the least in the world; I am not making fun of you, my dear Robert. - You are not a baby, you know! Come, go and get ready for a swim; I will go - into my dressing-tent and do the same.” - </p> - <p> - She saluted me with her hand, as she lifted one of the sides of the tent, - with unmistakable coquetry. What a strange mystery is the heart of woman! - </p> - <p> - I sought out a spot shaded by the bushes, thinking over these things; but - it was not long before I had got into my bathing costume. I thought of - you, my pious friend, as I was buttoning the neck and the wrists of this - conventional garment. How many times have you not helped me to execute - this little task about which I was so awkward. Briefly, I entered the - water and was about to strike out when the sound of the marchioness’s - voice assailed my ears. She was talking with her maid inside the tent. I - stopped and listened; not out of guilty curiosity, I can assure you, but - out of a sincere wish to become better acquainted with that soul. - </p> - <p> - “No, no, Julie,” the marchioness was saying. “No, no; I won’t hear you say - any more about that frightful waterproof cap. The water gets inside and - does not come out. Twist up my hair in a net; nothing more is required.” - </p> - <p> - “Your ladyship’s hair will get wet.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you can powder it. Nothing is better for drying than powder. And so, - I shall wear my light blue dress this evening; blond powder will go with - it exactly. My child, you are becoming foolish. I told you to shorten my - bathing costume, by taking it up at the knees. Just see what it looks - like!” - </p> - <p> - “I was fearful that your ladyship would find it too tight for swimming.” - </p> - <p> - “Tight! Then why have you taken it in three good inches just here? See how - it wrinkles up; it is ridiculous, don’t you see it, my girl, don’t you see - it?” - </p> - <p> - The sides of the tent were moved; and I guessed that my cousin was - somewhat impatiently assuming the costume in question, in order the better - to point out its defects to her maid. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t want to look as if I were wound up in a sheet, but yet I want to - be left freedom of action. You can not get it into your head, Julie, that - this material will not stretch. You see now that I stoop a little-Ah! you - see it at last, that’s well.” - </p> - <p> - Weak minds! Is it not true, my pious friend, that there are those who can - be absorbed by such small matters? I find these preoccupations to be so - frivolous that I was pained at being even the involuntary recipient of - them, and I splashed the water with my hands to announce my presence and - put a stop to a conversation which shocked me. - </p> - <p> - “I am coming to you, Robert; get into the water. Has your sister arrived - yet?” said my cousin, raising her voice; then softly, and addressing her - maid, she added: “Yes, of course, lace it tightly. I want support.” - </p> - <p> - One side of the tent was raised, and my relative appeared. I know not why - I shuddered, as if at the approach of some danger. She advanced two or - three steps on the fine sand, drawing from her fingers as she did so, the - gold rings she was accustomed to wear; then she stopped, handed them to - Julie, and, with a movement which I can see now, but which it is - impossible for me to describe to you, kicked off into the grass the - slippers, with red bows, which enveloped her feet. - </p> - <p> - She had only taken three paces, but it sufficed to enable me to remark the - singularity of her gait. She walked with short, timid steps, her bare arms - close to her sides. - </p> - <p> - She had divested herself of all the outward tokens of a woman, save the - tresses of her hair, which were rolled up in a net. As for the rest, she - was a comical-looking young man, at once slender yet afflicted by an - unnatural plumpness, one of those beings who appear to us in dreams, and - in the delirium of fever, one of those creatures toward whom an unknown - power attracts us, and who resemble angels too nearly not to be demons. - </p> - <p> - “Well, Robert, of what are you thinking? Give me your hand and help me to - get into the water.” - </p> - <p> - She dipped the toes of her arched foot into the pellucid stream. - </p> - <p> - “This always gives one a little shock, but the water ought to be - delightful to-day,” said she. “But what is the matter with you?—your - hand shakes. You are a chilly mortal, cousin.” - </p> - <p> - The fact is, I was not trembling either through fear or cold; but on - approaching the Marchioness, the sharp perfume which emanated from her - hair went to my head, and with my delicate nerves you will readily - understand that I was about to faint. I mastered this sensation, however. - She took a firm grip of my hand, as one would clasp the knob of a cane or - the banister of a stair, and we advanced into the stream side by side. - </p> - <p> - As we advanced the stream became deeper. The Marchioness, as the water - rose higher, gave vent to low cries of fear resembling the hiss of a - serpent; then she broke out into ringing bursts of laughter, and drew - closer and closer to me. Finally, she stopped, and turning she looked - straight into my eyes. I felt then that moment was a solemn one. I thought - a hidden precipice was concealed at my feet, my heart throbbed as if it - would burst, and my head seemed to be on fire. - </p> - <p> - “Come now, teach me to float on my back, Robert. Legs straight and - extended, arms close to the body, that’s the way, is it not?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, my dear cousin, and move your hands gently under you.” - </p> - <p> - “Very good; here goes, then. One, two, three-off! Oh, what a little goose - I am, I’m afraid! Oh cousin, support me, just a little bit.” - </p> - <p> - That was the moment when I ought to have said to her: “No, Madame, I am - not the man to support coquettes, and I will not.” But I did not dare say - that; my tongue remained silent, and I passed my arm round the - Marchioness’s waist, in order to support her more easily. - </p> - <p> - Alas! I had made a mistake; perhaps an irreparable one. - </p> - <p> - In that supreme moment it was but too true that I adored her seductive - charms. Let me cut it short. When I held her thus it seemed to me that all - the blood in my body rushed back to my heart—a deadly thrill ran - through every limb—from shame and indignation, no doubt; my vision - became obscure; it seemed as if my soul was leaving my body, and I fell - forward fainting, and dragged her down to the bottom of the water in a - mortal clutch. - </p> - <p> - I heard a loud cry. I felt her arms interlace my neck, her clenched - fingers sink deep into my flesh, and all was over. I had lost - consciousness. - </p> - <p> - When I came to myself I was lying on the grass. Julie was chafing my - hands, and the Marchioness, in her bathing-dress, which was streaming with - water, was holding a vinaigrette to my nose. She looked at me severely, - although in her glance there was a shade of pleased satisfaction, the - import of which escaped me. - </p> - <p> - “Baby! you great baby!” said she. - </p> - <p> - Now that you know all the facts, my pious friend, bestow on me the favor - of your counsel, and thank heaven that you live remote from scenes like - these. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - With heart and soul, - Your sincere friend, - ROBERT DE K——-DEC———. -</pre> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III. MADAME DE K. - </h2> - <p> - It is possible that you know Madame de K.; if this be so, I congratulate - you, for she is a very remarkable person. Her face is pretty, but they do - not say of her, “Ah, what a pretty woman!” They say: “Madame de K.? Ah! to - be sure, a fine woman!” Do you perceive the difference? it is easy to - grasp it. That which charms in her is less what one sees than what one - guesses at. Ah! to be sure, a fine woman! That is what is said after - dinner when we have dined at her house, and when her husband, who - unfortunately is in bad health and does not smoke, has gone to fetch - cigars from his desk. It is said in a low tone, as though in confidence; - but from this affected reserve, it is easy to read conviction on the part - of each of the guests. The ladies in the drawing room do not suspect the - charming freedom which characterizes the gossip of the gentlemen when they - have gone into the smoking-room to puff their cigars over a cup of coffee. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, she is a very fine woman.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! the deuce, expansive beauty, opulent.” - </p> - <p> - “But poor De K. makes me feel anxious; he does not seem to get any better. - Does it not alarm you, Doctor?” - </p> - <p> - Every one smiles ‘sub rosa’ at the idea that poor De K., who has gone to - fetch cigars, pines away visibly, while his wife is so well. - </p> - <p> - “He is foolish; he works too hard, as I have told him. His position at the - ministry—thanks, I never take sugar.” - </p> - <p> - “But, really, it is serious, for after all he is not strong,” ventures a - guest, gravely, biting his lips meanwhile to keep from laughing. - </p> - <p> - “I think even that within the last year her beauty has developed,” says a - little gentleman, stirring his coffee. - </p> - <p> - “De K.‘s beauty? I never could see it.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t say that.” - </p> - <p> - “Excuse me, you did; is it not so, Doctor?” - </p> - <p> - “Forsooth!”—“How now! Come, let us make the distinction.”—“Ha, - ha, ha!” And there is a burst of that hearty laughter which men affect to - assist digestion. The ice is broken, they draw closer to each other and - continue in low tones: - </p> - <p> - “She has a fine neck! for when she turned just now it looked as if it had - been sculptured.” - </p> - <p> - “Her neck, her neck! but what of her hands, her arms and her shoulders! - Did you see her at Leon’s ball a fortnight ago? A queen, my dear fellow, a - Roman empress. Neck, shoulders, arms—” - </p> - <p> - “And all the rest,” hazards some one, looking down into his cup. All laugh - heartily, and the good De K. comes in with a box of cigars which look - exceptional. - </p> - <p> - “Here you are, my friends,” he says, coughing slightly, “but let me - recommend you to smoke carefully.” - </p> - <p> - I have often dined with my friend De K., and I have always, or almost - always, heard a conversation similar to the preceding. But I must avow - that the evening on which I heard the impertinent remark of this gentleman - I was particularly shocked; first, because De K. is my friend, and in the - second place because I can not endure people who speak of that of which - they know nothing. I make bold to say that I alone in Paris understand - this matter to the bottom. Yes, yes, I alone; and the reason is not far to - seek. Paul and his brother are in England; Ernest is a consul in America; - as for Leon, he is at Hycres in his little subprefecture. You see, - therefore, that in truth I am the only one in Paris who can— - </p> - <p> - “But hold, Monsieur Z., you must be joking. Explain yourself; come to the - point. Do you mean to say that Madame de K.—oh! dear me! but that is - most ‘inconvenant’!” - </p> - <p> - Nothing, nothing! I am foolish. Let us suppose that I had not spoken, - ladies; let us speak of something else. How could the idea have got into - my head of saying anything about “all the rest”? Let us talk of something - else. - </p> - <p> - It was a real spring morning, the rain fell in torrents and the north wind - blew furiously, when the damsel, more dead than alive—— - </p> - <p> - The fact is, I feel I can not get out of it. It will be better to tell - all. Only swear to me to be discreet. On your word of honor? Well, then, - here goes. - </p> - <p> - I am, I repeat, the only man in Paris who can speak from knowledge of “all - the rest” in regard to Madame de K. - </p> - <p> - Some years ago—but do not let us anticipate—I say, some years - ago I had an intimate friend at whose house we met many evenings. In - summer the windows were left open, and we used to sit in armchairs and - chat of affairs by the light of our cigars. Now, one evening, when we were - talking of fishing—all these details are still fresh in my memory—we - heard the sound of a powerful harpsichord, and soon followed the harsh - notes of a voice more vigorous than harmonious, I must admit. - </p> - <p> - “Aha! she has altered her hours,” said Paul, regarding one of the windows - of the house opposite. - </p> - <p> - “Who has changed her hours, my dear fellow?” - </p> - <p> - “My neighbor. A robust voice, don’t you think so? Usually she practises in - the morning, and I like that better, for it is the time I go out for a - walk.” - </p> - <p> - Instinctively I glanced toward the lighted window, and through the drawn - curtains I distinctly perceived a woman, dressed in white, with her hair - loose, and swaying before her instrument like a person conscious that she - was alone and responding to her own inspirations. - </p> - <p> - “My Fernand, go, seek glo-o-o-ry,” she was singing at the top of her - voice. The singing appeared to me mediocre, but the songstress in her - peignoir interested me much. - </p> - <p> - “Gentlemen,” said I, “it appears to me there is behind that frail tissue”—I - alluded to the curtain—“a very handsome woman. Put out your cigars, - if you please; their light might betray our presence and embarrass the - fair singer.” - </p> - <p> - The cigars were at once dropped—the window was even almost - completely closed for greater security—and we began to watch. - </p> - <p> - This was not, I know, quite discreet, but, as the devil willed it, we were - young bachelors, all five of us, and then, after all, dear reader, would - not you have done the same? - </p> - <p> - When the song was concluded, the singer rose. It was very hot and her - garment must have been very thin, for the light, which was at the farther - end of the room, shone through the fabric. It was one of those long robes - which fall to the feet, and which custom has reserved for night wear. The - upper part is often trimmed with lace, the sleeves are wide, the folds are - long and flowing, and usually give forth a perfume of ambergris or violet. - But perhaps you know this garment as well as I. The fair one drew near the - looking-glass, and it seemed to us that she was contemplating her face; - then she raised her hands in the air, and, in the graceful movement she - made, the sleeve, which was unbuttoned and very loose, slipped from her - beautifully rounded arm, the outline of which we distinctly perceived. - </p> - <p> - “The devil!” said Paul, in a stifled voice, but he could say no more. - </p> - <p> - The songstress then gathered up her hair, which hung very low, in her two - hands and twisted it in the air, just as the washerwomen do. Her head, - which we saw in profile, inclined a little forward, and her shoulders, - which the movement of her arms threw back, presented a more prominent and - clear outline. - </p> - <p> - “Marble, Parian marble!” muttered Paul. “O Cypris! Cytherea! Paphia!” - </p> - <p> - “Be quiet, you donkey!” - </p> - <p> - It really seemed as if the flame of the candle understood our appreciation - and ministered specially to our admiration. Placed behind the fair - songstress, it illuminated her so perfectly that the garment with the long - folds resembled those thin vapors which veil the horizon without hiding - it, and in a word, the most inquisitive imagination, disarmed by so much - courtesy, was ready to exclaim, “That is enough!” - </p> - <p> - Soon the fair one moved forward toward her bed, sat down in a very low - armchair, in which she stretched herself out at her ease, and remained for - some moments, with her hands clasped over her head and her limbs extended. - Just then midnight struck; we saw her take her right leg slowly and cross - it over her left, when we perceived that she had not yet removed her shoes - and stockings. - </p> - <p> - But what is the use of asking any more about it? These recollections - trouble me, and, although they have fixed themselves in my mind-very - firmly indeed, I can assure you—I feel an embarrassment mingled with - modesty at relating all to you at length. Besides, at the moment she - turned down the clothes, and prepared, to get into bed, the light went - out. - </p> - <p> - On the morrow, about ten o’clock in the evening, we all five again found - ourselves at Paul’s, four of us with opera-glasses in our pockets. As on - the previous evening, the fair songstress sat down at her piano, then - proceeded slowly to make her night toilette. There was the same grace, the - same charm, but when we came to the fatal moment at which on the preceding - night the candle had gone out, a faint thrill ran through us all. To tell - the truth, for my part, I was nervous. Heaven, very fortunately, was now - on our side; the candle continued to burn. The young woman then, with her - charming hand, the plump outlines of which we could easily distinguish, - smoothed the pillow, patted it, arranged it with a thousand caressing - precautions in which the thought was suggested, “With what happiness shall - I now go and bury my head in it!” - </p> - <p> - Then she smoothed down the little wrinkles in the bed, the contact with - which might have irritated her, and, raising herself on her right arm, - like a horseman, about to get into the saddle, we saw her left knee, - smooth and shining as marble, slowly bury itself. We seemed to hear a kind - of creaking, but this creaking sounded joyful. The sight was brief, too - brief, alas! and it was in a species of delightful confusion that we - perceived a well-rounded limb, dazzlingly white, struggling in the silk of - the quilt. At length everything became quiet again, and it was as much as - we could do to make out a smooth, rose-tinted little foot which, not being - sleepy, still lingered outside and fidgeted with the silken covering. - </p> - <p> - Delightful souvenir of my lively youth! My pen splutters, my paper seems - to blush to the color of that used by the orange-sellers. I believe I have - said too much. - </p> - <p> - I learned some time afterward that my friend De K. was about to be - married, and, singularly enough, was going to wed this beautiful creature - with whom I was so well acquainted. - </p> - <p> - “A charming woman!” I exclaimed one day. - </p> - <p> - “You know her, then?” said someone. - </p> - <p> - “I? No, not the least in the world.” - </p> - <p> - “But?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes-no, let me see; I have seen her once at high mass.” - </p> - <p> - “She is not very pretty,” some one remarked to me. - </p> - <p> - “No, not her face,” I rejoined, and added to myself, “No, not her face, - but all the rest!” - </p> - <p> - It is none the less true that for some time past this secret has been - oppressing me, and, though I decided to-day to reveal it to you, it was - because it seems to me that to do so would quiet my conscience. - </p> - <p> - But, for Heaven’s sake, let me entreat you, do not noise abroad the - affair! - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV. SOUVENIRS OF LENT - </h2> - <p> - The faithful are flocking up the steps of the temple; spring toilettes - already glitter in the sun; trains sweep the dust with their long flowing - folds; feathers and ribbons flutter; the bell chimes solemnly, while - carriages keep arriving at a trot, depositing upon the pavement all that - is most pious and most noble in the Faubourg, then draw up in line at the - farther end of the square. - </p> - <p> - Be quick, elbow your way through the crowd if you want a good place; the - Abbe Gelon preaches to-day on abstinence, and when the Abbe Gelon preaches - it is as if Patti were singing. - </p> - <p> - Enter Madame, pushes the triple door, which recloses heavily, brushes with - rapid fingers the holywater sprinkler which that pious old man holds out, - and carefully makes a graceful little sign of the cross so as not to spot - her ribbons. - </p> - <p> - Do you hear these discreet and aristocratic whisperings? - </p> - <p> - “Good morning, my dear.” - </p> - <p> - “Good morning, dear. It is always on abstinence that he preaches, is it - not? Have you a seat?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, come with me. You have got on your famous bonnet, I see?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; do you like it? It is a little showy, is it not? What a multitude of - people! Where is your husband?” - </p> - <p> - “Showy! Oh, no, it is splendid. My husband is in the churchwarden’s pew; - he left before me; he is becoming a fanatic—he speaks of lunching on - radishes and lentils.” - </p> - <p> - “That ought to be very consoling to you.” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t mention it. Come with me. See; there are Ernestine and Louise. Poor - Louise’s nose, always the same; who would believe that she drinks nothing - stronger than water?” - </p> - <p> - The ladies push their way among the chairs, some of which they upset with - the greatest unconcern. - </p> - <p> - Arrived at their places they sink down on their knees, and, moist-eyed and - full of feeling, cast a look of veiled adoration toward the high altar, - then hide their faces with their gloved hands. - </p> - <p> - For a very few minutes they gracefully deprecate themselves in the eyes of - the Lord, then, taking their seats, coquettishly arrange the immense bows - of their bonnet-strings, scan the assembly through a gold eyeglass, with - the little finger turning up; finally, while smoothing down the satin - folds of a dress difficult to keep in place, they scatter, right and left, - charming little recognitions and delightful little smiles. - </p> - <p> - “Are you comfortable, dear?” - </p> - <p> - “Quite, thanks. Do you see in front there, between the two tapers, Louise - and Madame de C———-? Is it allowable in any one to come - to church got up like that?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! I have never believed much in the piety of Madame de C———-. - You know her history—the story of the screen? I will tell it you - later. Ah! there is the verger.” - </p> - <p> - The verger shows his bald head in the pulpit of truth. He arranges the - seat, adjusts the kneeling-stool, then withdraws and allows the Abbe - Gelon, who is somewhat pale from Lenten fasting, but striking, as he - always is, in dignity, elegance, and unction. A momentary flutter passes - through the congregation, then they settle down comfortably. The noise - dies away, and all eyes are eagerly looking toward the face of the - preacher. With his eyes turned to heaven, the latter stands upright and - motionless; a light from above may be divined in his inspired look; his - beautiful, white hands, encircled at the wrists by fine lace, are - carelessly placed on the red velvet cushion of the pulpit. He waits a few - moments, coughs twice, unfolds his handkerchief, deposits his square hat - in a corner, and, bending forward, lets fall from his lips in those sweet - slow, persuasive tones, by which he is known, the first words of his - sermon, “Ladies!” - </p> - <p> - With this single word he has already won all hearts. Slowly he casts over - his audience a mellow glance, which penetrates and attracts; then, having - uttered a few Latin words which he has the tact to translate quickly into - French, he continues: - </p> - <p> - “What is it to abstain? Why should we abstain? How should we abstain? - Those are the three points, ladies, I shall proceed to discuss.” - </p> - <p> - He blows his nose, coughs; a holy thrill stirs every heart. How will he - treat this magnificent subject? Let us listen. - </p> - <p> - Is it not true, Madame, that your heart is piously stirred, and that at - this moment you feel an actual thirst for abstinence and mortification? - </p> - <p> - The holy precincts are bathed in a soft obscurity, similar to that of your - boudoir, and inducing revery. - </p> - <p> - I know not how much of the ineffable and of the vaguely exhilarating - penetrates your being. But the voice of this handsome and venerated old - man has, amidst the deep silence, something deliciously heavenly about it. - Mysterious echoes repeat from the far end of the temple each of his words, - and in the dim light of the sanctuary the golden candlesticks glitter like - precious stones. The old stained-glass windows with their symbolic figures - become suddenly illuminated, a flood of light and sunshine spreads through - the church like a sheet of fire. Are the heavens opening? Is the Spirit - from on high descending among us? - </p> - <p> - While lost in pious revery, which soothes and lulls, one gazes with - ecstasy on the fanciful details of the sculptures which vanish in the - groined roof above, and on the quaint pipes of the organ with its hundred - voices. The beliefs of childhood piously inculcated in your heart suddenly - reawaken; a vague perfume of incense again penetrates the air. The stone - pillars shoot up to infinite heights, and from these celestial arches - depends the golden lamp which sways to and fro in space, diffusing its - eternal light. Truly, God is great. - </p> - <p> - By degrees the sweet tones of the preacher enrapture one more and more, - and the sense of his words are lost; and, listening to the divine murmur - of that saint-like voice, your eyes, like those of a child falling asleep - in the bosom of the Creator, close. - </p> - <p> - You do not go to sleep, but your head inclines forward, the ethereal light - surrounds you, and your soul, delighting in the uncertain, plunges into - celestial space, and loses itself in infinity. - </p> - <p> - What a sweet and holily intoxicating sensation, a delicious ecstasy! - Nevertheless, there are those who smile at this religious raise-en-scene, - these pomps and splendors, this celestial music, which soothes the nerves - and thrills the brain! Pity on these scoffers who do not comprehend the - ineffable delight of being able to open at will the gates of Paradise to - themselves, and to become, at odd moments, one with the angels! But what - purpose does it serve to speak of the faithless and of their harmless, - smiles? As the Abbe Gelon has in his inimitable manner observed, “The - heart is a fortress, incessantly assailed by the spirit of darkness.” - </p> - <p> - The idea of a constant struggle with this powerful being has something - about it that adds tenfold to our strength and flatters our vanity. What, - alone in your fortress, Madame; alone with the spirit of darkness. - </p> - <p> - But hush! the Abbe Gelon is finishing in a quivering and fatigued voice. - His right hand traces in the air the sign of peace. Then he wipes his - humid forehead, his eyes sparkle with divine light, he descends the narrow - stairs, and we hear on the pavement the regular taps of the rod of the - verger, who is reconducting him to the vestry. - </p> - <p> - “Was he not splendid, dear?” - </p> - <p> - “Excellent! when he said, ‘That my eyes might close forever, if...’ you - remember?” - </p> - <p> - “Superb! and further on: ‘Yes, ladies, you are coquettes.’ He told us some - hard truths; he speaks admirably.” - </p> - <p> - “Admirably! He is divine!” - </p> - <p> - It is four o’clock, the church is plunged in shadow and silence. The - confused rumble of the vehicles without hardly penetrates this dwelling of - prayer, and the creak of one’s boots, echoing in the distance, is the only - human noise which ruffles the deep calm. - </p> - <p> - However, in proportion as we advance, we perceive in the chapels groups of - the faithful, kneeling, motionless and silent. In viewing the despair that - their attitude appears to express, we are overwhelmed with sadness and - uneasiness. Is it an appeal for the damned? - </p> - <p> - The aspects of one of these chapels is peculiar. A hundred or a hundred - and fifty ladies, almost buried in silk and velvet, are crowded devoutly - about the confessional. A sweet scent of violets and vervain permeates the - vicinity, and one halts, in spite of one’s self, in the presence of this - large display of elegance. - </p> - <p> - From each of the two cells adjoining the confessional shoot out the folds - of a rebellious skirt, for the penitent, held fast at the waist, has been - able to get only half of her form into the narrow space. However, her head - can be distinguished moving in the shadow, and we can guess from the - contrite movements of her white feather that her forehead is bowed by - reason of remonstrance and repentance. - </p> - <p> - Hardly has she concluded her little story when a dozen of her neighbors - rush forward to replace her. This eagerness is quite explicable, for this - chapel is the one in which the Abbe Gelon hears confessions, and I need - not tell you that when the Abbe Gelon confesses it is the same as if he - were preaching—there is a crowd. - </p> - <p> - The good Abbe confesses all these ladies, and, with angelic devotion, - remains shut up for hours in this dark, narrow, suffocating box, through - the grating of which two penitents are continually whispering their sins. - </p> - <p> - The dear Abbe! the most likable thing about him is that he is not long - over the business. He knows how to get rid of useless details; he - perceives, with subtle instinct and a sureness of vision that spares you a - thousand embarrassments, the condition of a soul, so that, besides being a - man of intelligence and of the world, he renders the repetition of those - little weaknesses, of which he has whispered the one half to you, almost - agreeable. - </p> - <p> - In coming to him with one’s little burden of guilt, one feels somewhat - embarrassed, but while one is hesitating about telling him all, he, with a - discreet and skilful hand, disencumbers one of it rapidly, examines the - contents, smiles or consoles, and the confession is made without one - having uttered a single word; so that after all is over the penitent - exclaims, prostrating one’s self before God, “But, Lord, I was pure, pure - as the lily, and yet how uneasy I was!” - </p> - <p> - Even when he assumes the sacerdotal habit and ceases to be a man, and - speaks in the name of God, the tones of his voice, the refinement of his - look, reveal innate distinction and that spotless courtesy which can not - harm even a minister of God, and which one must cultivate on this side of - the Rue du Bac. - </p> - <p> - If God wills that there must be a Faubourg St.-Germain in the world—and - it can not be denied that He does—is it not proper that He should - give us a minister who speaks our language and understands our weaknesses? - Nothing is more obvious, and I really do not comprehend some of these - ladies who talk to me about the Abbe Brice. Not that I wish to speak ill - of the good Abbe, for this is neither the time nor the place for it; he is - a holy man, but his sanctity is a little bourgeois and needs polish. - </p> - <p> - With him one has to dot one’s i’s; he is dull in perception, or does not - perceive at all. - </p> - <p> - Acknowledge a peccadillo, and his brows knit, he must know the hour, the - moment, the antecedents; he examines, he probes, he weighs, and finishes - his thousand questions by being indiscreet and almost improper. Is there - not, even in the holy mission of the priest, a way of being politely - severe, and of acting the gentleman to people well born? - </p> - <p> - The Abbe Brice—and there is no reason why I should conceal it—smells - of the stable, which must be prejudicial to him. He is slightly - Republican, too, wears clumsy boots, has awful nails, and when he gets new - gloves, twice a year, his fingers stand out stiff and separate. - </p> - <p> - I do not, I would have you remark, deny his admirable virtues; but say - what you like, you will never get a woman of fashion to confide her - “little affairs” to a farmer’s son, and address him as “Father.” Matters - must not be carried the length of absurdity; besides, this Abbe Brice - always smells detestably of snuff. - </p> - <p> - He confesses all sorts of people, and you will agree that it is not - pleasant to have one’s maid or one’s cook for one’s visa-vis at the - confessional. - </p> - <p> - There is not a woman who understands Christian humility better than - yourself, dear Madame; but all the same you are not accustomed to travel - in an omnibus. You may be told that in heaven you will only be too happy - to call your coachman “Brother,” and to say to Sarah Jane, “Sister,” but - these worthy folk shall have first passed through purgatory, and fire - purifies everything. Again, what is there to assure us that Sarah Jane - will go to heaven, since you yourself, dear Madame, are not so sure of - entering there? - </p> - <p> - It is hence quite well understood why the Abbe Gelon’s chapel is crowded. - If a little whispering goes on, it is because they have been waiting three - long hours, and because everybody knows one another. - </p> - <p> - All the ladies, you may be sure, are there. - </p> - <p> - “Make a little room for me, dear,” whispers a newcomer, edging her way - through trains, kneeling-stools, and chairs. - </p> - <p> - “Ah! is that you, dear? Come here. Clementine and Madame de B. are there - in the corner at the cannon’s mouth. You will have to wait two good - hours.” - </p> - <p> - “If Madame de B. is there, it does not surprise me. She is inexhaustible, - and there is no other woman who is so long in telling a thing. Have all - these people not had their turn yet? Ah! there is Ernestine.” (She waves - her hand to her quietly.) “That child is an angel. She acknowledged to me - the other day that her conscience troubled her because, on reading the - ‘Passion,’ she could not make up her mind to kiss the mat.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! charming; but, tell me, do you kiss the mat yourself?” - </p> - <p> - “I! no, never in my life; it is so nasty, dear.” - </p> - <p> - “You confess to the omission, at least?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! I confess all those little trifles in a lump. I say, ‘Father, I have - erred out of human self-respect.’ I give the total at once.” - </p> - <p> - “That is just what I do, and that dear Abbe Gelon discharges the bill.” - </p> - <p> - “Seriously, time would fail him if he acted otherwise. But it seems to me - that we are whispering a little too much, dear; let me think over my - little bill.” - </p> - <p> - Madame leans upon her praying-stool. Gracefully she removes, without - taking her eyes off the altar, the glove from her right hand, and with her - thumb turns the ring of Ste-Genevieve that serves her as a rosary, moving - her lips the while. Then, with downcast eyes and set lips, she loosens the - fleur-de-lys-engraved clasp of her Book of Hours, and seeks out the - prayers appropriate to her condition. - </p> - <p> - She reads with fervency: “‘My God, crushed beneath the burden of my sins I - cast myself at thy feet’—how annoying that it should be so cold to - the feet. With my sore throat, I am sure to have influenza,—‘that I - cast myself at thy feet’—tell me, dear, do you know if the - chapel-keeper has a footwarmer? Nothing is worse than cold feet, and that - Madame de P. sticks there for hours. I am sure she confesses her friends’ - sins along with her own. It is intolerable; I no longer have any feeling - in my right foot; I would pay that woman for her foot-warmer—‘I bow - my head in the dust under the weight of repentance, and of........’” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! Madame de P. has finished; she is as red as the comb of a - turkey-cock.” - </p> - <p> - Four ladies rush forward with pious ardor to take her place. - </p> - <p> - “Ah! Madame, do not push so, I beg of you.” - </p> - <p> - “But I was here before you, Madame.” - </p> - <p> - “I beg a thousand pardons, Madame.” - </p> - <p> - “You surely have a very strange idea of the respect which is due to this - hallowed spot.” - </p> - <p> - “Hush, hush! Profit by the opportunity, Madame; slip through and take the - vacant place. (Whispering.) Do not forget the big one last night, and the - two little ones of this morning.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V. MADAME AND HER FRIEND CHAT BY THE FIRESIDE - </h2> - <p> - Madam—(moving her slender fingers)—It is ruched, ruched, - ruched, loves of ruches, edged all around with blond. - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—That is good style, dear. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Yes, I think it will be the style, and over this snowlike - foam fall the skirts of blue silk like the bodice; but a lovely blue, - something like—a little less pronounced than skyblue, you know, like—my - husband calls it a subdued blue. - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—Splendid. He is very happy in his choice of terms. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Is he not? One understands at once—a subdued blue. It - describes it exactly. - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—But apropos of this, you know that Ernestine has not - forgiven him his pleasantry of the other evening. - </p> - <p> - Madame—How, of my husband? What pleasantry? The other evening when - the Abbe Gelon and the Abbe Brice were there? - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—And his son, who was there also. - </p> - <p> - Madame—What! the Abbe’s son? (Both break into laughter.) - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—But—ha! ha! ha!—what are you saying, ha! ha! - you little goose? - </p> - <p> - Madame—I said the Abbe Gelon and the Abbe Brice, and you add, ‘And - his son.’ It is your fault, dear. He must be a choir-boy, that cherub. - (More laughter.) - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—(placing her hand over hey mouth)—Be quiet, be - quiet; it is too bad; and in Lent, too! - </p> - <p> - Madame—Well, but of whose son are you speaking? - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—Of Ernestine’s son, don’t you know, Albert, a picture of - innocence. He heard your husband’s pleasantry, and his mother was vexed. - </p> - <p> - Madame—My dear, I really don’t know to what you refer. Please tell - me all about it. - </p> - <p> - Hey Friend—Well, on entering the drawing-room, and perceiving the - candelabra lit up, and the two Abbe’s standing at that moment in the - middle of the room, your husband appeared as if looking for something, and - when Ernestine asked him what it was, he said aloud: “I am looking for the - holy-water; please, dear neighbor, excuse me for coming in the middle of - the service.” - </p> - <p> - Madame—Is it possible? (Laughing.) The fact is, he can not get out - of it; he has met the two Abbes, twice running, at Ernestine’s. Her - drawing-room is a perfect sacristy. - </p> - <p> - Hey Friend (dryly)—A sacristy! How regardless you are getting in - your language since your marriage, dear. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Not more than before. I never cared to meet priests elsewhere - than at church. - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—Come, you are frivolous, and if I did not know you better—but - do you not like to meet the Abbe Gelon? - </p> - <p> - Madame—Ah! the Abbe Gelon, that is quite different. He is charming. - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—(briskly)—His manners are so distingue. - </p> - <p> - Madame—And respectful. His white hair is such an admirable frame for - his pale face, which is so full of unction. - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—Oh! yes, he has unction, and his looks—those - sweetly softened looks! The other day, when he was speaking on the - mediation of Christ, he was divine. At one moment he wiped away a tear; he - was no longer master of his emotions; but he grew calm almost immediately—his - power of self-command is marvellous; then he went on quietly, but the - emotion in turn had overpowered us. It was electrifying. The Countess de - S., who was near me, was bubbling like a spring, under her yellow bonnet. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Ah! yes, I have seen that yellow bonnet. What a sight that - Madame de S. is! - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—The truth is, she is always dressed like an applewoman. A - bishopric has been offered these messieurs, I know, on good authority; my - husband had it from De l’Euvre. Well— - </p> - <p> - Madame—(interrupting her)—A bishopric offered to Madame de S. - It was wrong to do so. - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—You make fun of everything, my dear; there are, however, - some subjects which should be revered. I tell you that the mitre and the - ring have been offered to the Abby Gelon. Well, he refused them. God - knows, however, that the pastoral ring would well become his hand. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Oh! yes, he has a lovely hand. - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—He has a white, slender, and aristocratic hand. Perhaps - it is a wrong for us to dwell on these worldly details, but after all his - hand is really beautiful. Do you know (enthusiastically) I find that the - Abbe Gelon compels love of religion? Were you ever present at his - lectures? - </p> - <p> - Madame—I was at the first one. I would have gone again on Thursday, - but Madame Savain came to try on my bodice and I had a protracted - discussion with her about the slant of the skirts. - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—Ah! the skirts are cut slantingly. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Yes, yes, with little cross-bars, which is an idea of my own—I - have not seen it anywhere else; I think it will not look badly. - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—Madame Savain told me that you had suppressed the - shoulders of the corsage. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Ah! the gossip! Yes, I will have nothing on the shoulders but - a ribbon, a trifle, just enough to fasten a jewel to—I was afraid - that the corsage would look a little bare. Madame Savain had laid on, at - intervals, some ridiculous frippery. I wanted to try something else—my - plan of crossbars, there and then—and I missed the dear Abbe Gelon’s - lecture. He was charming, it seems. - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—Oh! charming. He spoke against bad books; there was a - large crowd. He demolished all the horrible opinions of Monsieur Renan. - What a monster that man is! - </p> - <p> - Madame—You have read his book? - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—Heaven forbid! Don’t you know it is impossible for one to - find anything more—well, it must be very bad ‘Messieurs de l’OEuvre’ - for the Abbe Gelon, in speaking to one of these friends of my husband, - uttered the word—— - </p> - <p> - Madame—Well, what word? - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—I dare not tell you, for, really, if it is true it would - make one shudder. He said that it was (whispering in her ear) the - Antichrist! It makes one feel aghast, does it not! They sell his - photograph; he has a satanic look. (Looking at the clock.) Half-past two—I - must run away; I have given no orders about dinner. These three fast-days - in the week are to me martyrdom. One must have a little variety; my - husband is very fastidious. If we did not have water-fowl I should lose my - head. How do you get on, dear? - </p> - <p> - Madame—Oh! with me it is very simple, provided I do not make my - husband leaner; he eats anything. You know, Augustus is not very much— - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—Not very much! I think that he is much too spare; for, - after all, if we do not in this life impose some privations upon ourselves—no, - that would be too easy. I hope, indeed, that you have a dispensation? - </p> - <p> - Madame—Oh! yes, I am safe as to that. - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—I have one, of course, for butter and eggs, as - vice-chancellor of the Association. The Abbe Gelon begged me to accept a - complete dispensation on account of my headaches, but I refused. Yes! I - refused outright. If one makes a compromise with one’s principles—but - then there are people who have no principles. - </p> - <p> - Madame—If you mean that to apply to my husband, you are wrong. - Augustus is not a heathen—he has excellent principles. - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—Excellent principles! You make my blood boil. But there, - I must go. Well, it is understood, I count upon you for Tuesday; he will - preach upon authority, a magnificent subject, and we may expect allusions—Ah! - I forgot to tell you; I am collecting and I expect your mite, dear. I take - as low a sum as a denier (the twelfth of a penny). I have an idea of - collecting with my little girl on my praying-stool. Madame de K. collected - on Sunday at St. Thomas’s and her baby held the alms-bag. The little Jesus - had an immense success—immense! - </p> - <p> - Madame—I must go now. How will you dress? - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—Oh! for the present, quite simply and in black; you - understand. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Besides, black becomes you so well. - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—Yes, everything is for the best; black does not suit me - at all ill. Tuesday, then. But my dear, try to bring your husband, he - likes music so much. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Well, I can not promise that. - </p> - <p> - Her Fiend—Ah! mon Dieu! they are all like that, these men; they are - strong-minded, and when grace touches them, they look back on their past - life with horror. When my husband speaks of his youth, the tears come into - his eyes. I must tell you; that he has not always been as he is now; he - was a gay boy in his youth, poor fellow. I do not detest a man because he - knows life a little, do you? But I am gossiping and time passes; I have a - call to make yet on Madame W. I do not know whether she has found her - juvenile lead. - </p> - <p> - Madame—What for, in Heaven’s name? - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—For her evening party. There are to be private - theatricals at her house, but for a pious object, you may be sure, during - Lent; it is so as to have a collection on behalf of the Association. I - must fly. Good-by, dear. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Till Tuesday, dear; in full uniform? - </p> - <p> - Her Friend—(smiling)—In full uniform. Kind regards to your - reprobate. I like him very much all the same. Good-by. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI. A DREAM - </h2> - <p> - Sleeplessness is almost always to be traced to indigestion. My friend, Dr. - Jacques, is there and he will tell you so. - </p> - <p> - Now, on that particular evening, it was last Friday, I had committed the - mistake of eating brill, a fish that positively disagrees with me. - </p> - <p> - God grant that the account of the singular dream which ensued may inspire - you with some prudent reflections. - </p> - <p> - Be that as it may, this was my dream, in all its extravagance. - </p> - <p> - I had, in this dream, the honor to belong, as senior curate, to one of the - most frequented parish churches in Paris. What could be more ridiculous! I - was, moreover, respectably stout, possessed a head decked with silver - locks, well-shaped hands, an aquiline nose, great unction, the friendship - of the lady worshippers, and, I venture to add, the esteem of the rector. - </p> - <p> - While I was reciting the thanksgiving after service, and at the same time - unfastening the cords of my alb, the rector came up to me (I see him even - now) blowing his nose. - </p> - <p> - “My dear friend,” said he, “you hear confessions this evening, do you - not?” - </p> - <p> - “Most certainly. Are you well this morning? I had a good congregation at - mass.” - </p> - <p> - Having said this, I finished my thanksgiving, put my alb into the - wardrobe, and, offering a pinch to the rector, added cheerily: - </p> - <p> - “This is not breaking the fast, is it?” - </p> - <p> - “Ha! ha! no, no, no! Besides, it wants five minutes to twelve and the - clock is slow.” - </p> - <p> - We took a pinch together and walked off arm in arm by the little side - door, for night sacraments, chatting in a friendly way. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly I found myself transported into my confessional. The chapel was - full of ladies who all bowed at my approach. I entered my narrow box, the - key of which I had. I arranged on the seat the air-cushion which is - indispensable to me on the evenings preceding great church festivals, the - sittings at that season being always prolonged. I slipped the white - surplice which was hanging from a peg over my cassock, and, after - meditating for a moment, opened the little shutter that puts me in - communication with the penitents. - </p> - <p> - I will not undertake to describe to you one by one the different people - who came and knelt before me. I will not tell you, for instance, how one - of them, a lady in black, with a straight nose, thin lips, and sallow - complexion, after reciting her Confiteor in Latin, touched me infinitely - by the absolute confidence she placed in me, though I was not of her sex. - In five minutes she found the opportunity to speak to me of her - sister-in-law, her brother, an uncle who was on the point of death whose - heiress she was, her nephews, and her servants; and I could perceive, - despite the tender benevolence that appeared in all her words, that she - was the victim of all these people. She ended by informing me she had a - marriageable daughter, and that her stomach was an obstacle to her - fasting. - </p> - <p> - I can still see a throng of other penitents, but it would take too long to - tell you about them, and we will confine ourselves, with your permission, - to the last two, who, besides, impressed upon my memory themselves - particularly. - </p> - <p> - A highly adorned little lady rushed into the confessional; she was brisk, - rosy, fresh. Despite her expression of deep thoughtfulness, she spoke very - quickly in a musical voice, and rattled through her Confiteor, regardless - of the sense. - </p> - <p> - “Father,” she said, “I have one thing that is troubling me.” - </p> - <p> - “Speak, my child; you know that a confessor is a father.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, father—but I really dare not.” - </p> - <p> - There are many of these timid little hearts that require to be encouraged. - I said, “Go on, my child, go on.” - </p> - <p> - “My husband,” she murmured confusedly, “will not abstain during Lent. - Ought I to compel him, father?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, by persuasion.” - </p> - <p> - “But he says that he will go and dine at the restaurant if I do not let - him have any meat. Oh! I suffer terribly from that. Am I not assuming the - responsibility of all that meat, father?” - </p> - <p> - This young wife really interested me; she had in the midst of one cheek, - toward the corner of the mouth, a small hollow, a kind of little dimple, - charming in the profane sense of the word, and giving a special expression - to her face. Her tiny white teeth glittered like pearls when she opened - her mouth to relate her pious inquietudes; she shed around, besides, a - perfume almost as sweet as that of our altars, although of a different - kind, and I breathed this perfume with an uneasiness full of scruples, - which for all that inclined me to indulgence. I was so close to her that - none of the details of her face escaped me; I could distinguish, almost in - spite of myself, even a little quiver of her left eyebrow, tickled every - now and again by a stray tress of her fair hair. - </p> - <p> - “Your situation,” I said, “is a delicate one; on one hand, your domestic - happiness, and on the other your duty as a Christian.” She gave a sigh - from her very heart. “Well, my dear child, my age warrants my speaking to - you like that, does it not?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, father.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, my dear child”—I fancy I noticed at that moment that she had - at the outer corner of her eyes a kind of dark mark something like an - arrow-head—“try, my dear child, to convince your husband, who in his - heart—” In addition, her lashes, very long and somewhat curled, were - underlined, I might almost say, by a dark streak expanding and shading off - delicately toward the middle of the eye. This physical peculiarity did not - seem to me natural, but an effect of premeditated coquetry. - </p> - <p> - Strange fact, the verification of such weakness in this candid heart only - increased my compassion. I continued in a gentle tone: - </p> - <p> - “Strive to bring your husband to God. Abstinence is not only a religious - observance, it is also a salutary custom. ‘Non solum lex Dei, sed etiam’. - Have you done everything to bring back your husband?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, father, everything.” - </p> - <p> - “Be precise, my child; I must know all.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, father, I have tried sweetness and tenderness.” - </p> - <p> - I thought to myself that this husband must be a wretch. - </p> - <p> - “I have implored him for the sake of our child,” continued the little - angel, “not to risk his salvation and my own. Once or twice I even told - him that the spinach was dressed with gravy when it was not. Was I wrong, - father?” - </p> - <p> - “There are pious falsehoods which the Church excuses, for in such cases it - only takes into consideration the intention and the greater glory of God. - I can not, therefore, say that you have done wrong. You have not, have - you, been guilty toward your husband of any of those excusable acts of - violence which may escape a Christian soul when it is struggling against - error? For it really is not natural that an honest man should refuse to - follow the prescription of the Church. Make a few concessions at first.” - </p> - <p> - “I have, father, and perhaps too many,” she said, contritely. - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean?” - </p> - <p> - “Hoping to bring him back to God, I accorded him favors which I ought to - have refused him. I may be wrong, but it seems to me that I ought to have - refused him.” - </p> - <p> - “Do not be alarmed, my dear child, everything depends upon degrees, and it - is necessary in these matters to make delicate distinctions.” - </p> - <p> - “That is what I say to myself, father, but my husband unites with his - kindness such a communicative gayety—he has such a graceful and - natural way of excusing his impiety—that I laugh in spite of myself - when I ought to weep. It seems to me that a cloud comes between myself and - my duties, and my scruples evaporate beneath the charm of his presence and - his wit. My husband has plenty of wit,” she added, with a faint smile, in - which there was a tinge of pride. - </p> - <p> - “Hum! hum!” (the blackness of this man’s heart revolted me). “There is no - seductive shape that the tempter does not assume, my child. Wit in itself - is not to be condemned, although the Church shuns it as far as she is - concerned, looking upon it as a worldly ornament; but it may become - dangerous, it may be reckoned a veritable pest when it tends to weaken - faith. Faith, which is to the soul, I hardly need tell you, what the bloom - is to the peach, and—if I may so express myself, what the—dew - is—to the flower—hum, hum! Go on, my child.” - </p> - <p> - “But, father, when my husband has disturbed me for a moment, I soon repent - of it. He has hardly gone before I pray for him.” - </p> - <p> - “Good, very good.” - </p> - <p> - “I have sewn a blessed medal up in his overcoat.” This was said more - boldly, though still with some timidity. - </p> - <p> - “And have you noticed any result?” - </p> - <p> - “In certain things he is better, yes, father, but as regards abstinence he - is still intractable,” she said with embarrassment. - </p> - <p> - “Do not be discouraged. We are in the holy period of Lent. Make use of - pious subterfuges, prepare him some admissible viands, but pleasant to the - taste.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, father, I have thought of that. The day before yesterday I gave him - one of these salmon pasties that resemble ham.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, I know them. Well?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, he ate the salmon, but he had a cutlet cooked afterward.” - </p> - <p> - “Deplorable!” I exclaimed, almost in spite of myself, so excessive did the - perversity of this man seem to me. “Patience, my child, offer up to Heaven - the sufferings which your husband’s impiety causes you, and remember that - your efforts will be set down to you. You have nothing more to tell me?” - </p> - <p> - “No, father.” - </p> - <p> - “Collect yourself, then. I will give you absolution.” - </p> - <p> - The dear soul sighed as she joined her two little hands. - </p> - <p> - Hardly had my penitent risen to withdraw when I abruptly closed my little - shutter and took a long pinch of snuff—snuff-takers know how much a - pinch soothes the mind—then having thanked God rapidly, I drew from - the pocket of my cassock my good old watch, and found that it was earlier - than I thought. The darkness of the chapel had deceived me, and my stomach - had shared my error. I was hungry. I banished these carnal preoccupations - from my mind, and after shaking my hands, on which some grains of snuff - had fallen, I slackened one of my braces that was pressing a little on one - shoulder, and opened my wicket. - </p> - <p> - “Well, Madame, people should be more careful,” said the penitent on my - left, addressing a lady of whom I could only see a bonnet-ribbon; “it is - excusable.” - </p> - <p> - My penitent’s voice, which was very irritated, though restrained by - respect for the locality, softened as if by magic at the creaking of my - wicket. She knelt down, piously folded her two ungloved hands, plump, - perfumed, rosy, laden with rings—but let that pass. I seemed to - recognize the hands of the Countess de B., a chosen soul, whom I had the - honor to visit frequently, especially on Saturday, when there is always a - place laid for me at her table. - </p> - <p> - She raised her little lace veil and I saw that I was not mistaken. It was - the Countess. She smiled at me as at a person with whom she was - acquainted, but with perfect propriety; she seemed to be saying, - “Good-day, my dear Abbe, I do not ask how your rheumatism is, because at - this moment you are invested with a sacred character, but I am interested - in it all the same.” - </p> - <p> - This little smile was irreproachable. I replied by a similar smile, and I - murmured in a very low tone, giving her, too, to understand by the - expression of my face that I was making a unique concession in her favor, - “Are you quite well, dear Madame?” - </p> - <p> - “Thanks, father, I am quite well.” Her voice had resumed an angelic tone. - “But I have just been in a passion.” - </p> - <p> - “And why? Perhaps you have taken for a passion what was really only a - passing moment of temper?” - </p> - <p> - It does not do to alarm penitents. - </p> - <p> - “Ah! not at all, it was really a passion, father. My dress had just been - torn from top to bottom; and really it is strange that one should be - exposed to such mishaps on approaching the tribunal of——” - </p> - <p> - “Collect yourself, my dear Madame, collect yourself,” and assuming a - serious look I bestowed my benediction upon her. - </p> - <p> - The Countess sought to collect herself, but I saw very well that her - troubled spirit vainly strove to recover itself. By a singular phenomenon - I could see into her brain, and her thoughts appeared to me one after the - other. She was saying to herself, “Let me collect myself; our Father, give - me grace to collect myself,” but the more effort she made to restrain her - imagination the more it became difficult to restrain and slipped through - her fingers. “I had made a serious examination of my conscience, however,” - she added. “Not ten minutes ago as I was getting out of my carriage I - counted up three sins; there was one above all I wished to mention. How - these little things escape me! I must have left them in the carriage.” And - she could not help smiling to herself at the idea of these three little - sins lost among the cushions. “And the poor Abbe waiting for me in his - box. How hot it must be in there! he is quite red. Good Heavens! how shall - I begin? I can not invent faults? It is that torn dress which has upset - me. And there is Louise, who is to meet me at five o’clock at the - dressmaker’s. It is impossible for me to collect myself. O God, do not - turn away your face from me, and you, Lord, who can read in my soul—Louise - will wait till a quarter past five; besides, the bodice fits—there - is only the skirt to try on. And to think that I had three sins only a - minute ago.” - </p> - <p> - All these different thoughts, pious and profane, were struggling together - at once in the Countess’s brain, so that I thought the moment had come to - interfere and help her a little. - </p> - <p> - “Come,” I said, in a paternal voice, leaning forward benevolently and - twisting my snuff-box in my fingers. “Come, my dear Madame, and speak - fearlessly; have you nothing to reproach yourself with? Have you had no - impulses of—worldly coquetry, no wish to dazzle at the expense of - your neighbor?” - </p> - <p> - I had a vague idea that I should not be contradicted. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, father,” she said, smoothing down her bonnet strings, “sometimes; - but I have always made an effort to drive away such thoughts.” - </p> - <p> - “That good intention in some degree excuses you, but reflect and see how - empty are these little triumphs of vanity, how unworthy of a truly poor - soul and how they draw it aside from salvation. I know that there are - certain social exigencies—society. Yes, yes, but after all one can - even in those pleasures which the Church tolerates—I say tolerates—bring - to bear that perfume of good-will toward one’s neighbor of which the - Scriptures speak, and which is the appanage—in some degree... the - glorious appanage. Yes, yes, go on.” - </p> - <p> - “Father, I have not been able to resist certain temptations to gluttony.” - </p> - <p> - “Again, again! Begin with yourself. You are here at the tribunal of - penitence; well, promise God to struggle energetically against these - little carnal temptations, which are not in themselves serious sins—oh! - no, I know it—but, after all, these constant solicitations prove a - persistent attachment—displeasing to Him—to the fugitive and - deceitful delights of this world. Hum, hum! and has this gluttony shown - itself by more blameworthy actions than usual—is it simply the same - as last month?” - </p> - <p> - “The same as last month, father.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, pastry between meals,” I sighed gravely. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, father, and almost always a glass of Capri or of Syracuse after it.” - </p> - <p> - “Or of Syracuse after it. Well, let that pass, let that pass.” - </p> - <p> - I fancied that the mention of this pastry and those choice wines was - becoming a source of straying thoughts on my part, for which I mentally - asked forgiveness of heaven. - </p> - <p> - “What else do you recall?” I asked, passing my hand over my face. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing else, father; I do not recollect anything else.” - </p> - <p> - “Well let a sincere repentance spring up in your heart for the sins you - have just admitted, and for those which you may have forgotten; commune - with yourself, humble yourself in the presence of the great act you have - just accomplished. I will give you absolution. Go in peace.” - </p> - <p> - The Countess rose, smiled at me with discreet courtesy, and, resuming her - ordinary voice, said in a low tone, “Till Saturday evening, then?” - </p> - <p> - I bowed as a sign of assent, but felt rather embarrassed on account of my - sacred character. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII. AN EMBASSY BALL - </h2> - <p> - “Don’t say that it is not pretty,” added my aunt, brushing the firedog - with the tip of her tiny boot. “It lends an especial charm to the look, I - must acknowledge. A cloud of powder is most becoming, a touch of rouge has - a charming effect, and even that blue shadow that they spread, I don’t - know how, under the eye. What coquettes some women are! Did you notice - Anna’s eyes at Madame de Sieurac’s last Thursday? Is it allowable? - Frankly, can you understand how any one can dare?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, aunt, I did not object to those eyes, and between ourselves they - had a softness.” - </p> - <p> - “I do not deny that, they had a softness.” - </p> - <p> - “And at the same time such a strange brilliancy beneath that half shadow, - an expression of such delicious languor.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, certainly, but, after all, it is making an exhibition of one’s self. - But for that—it is very pretty sometimes—I have seen in the - Bois charming creatures under their red, their black, and their blue, for - they put on blue too, God forgive me!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, aunt, Polish blue; it is put on with a stump; it is for the veins.” - </p> - <p> - With interest: “They imitate veins! It is shocking, upon my word. But you - seem to know all about it?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I have played so often in private theatricals; I have even quite a - collection of little pots of color, hare’s-feet stumps, pencils, et - cetera.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! you have, you rascal! Are you going to the fancy ball at the Embassy - to-morrow?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, aunt; and you, are you going in character?” - </p> - <p> - “One must, since every one else will. They say the effect will be - splendid.” After a silence: “I shall wear powder; do you think it will - suit me?” - </p> - <p> - “Better than any one, my dear aunt; you will look adorable, I feel - certain.” - </p> - <p> - “We shall see, you little courtier.” - </p> - <p> - She rose, gave me her hand to kiss with an air of exquisite grace, and - seemed about to withdraw, then, seemingly changing her mind: - </p> - <p> - “Since you are going to the Embassy to-morrow, Ernest, call for me; I will - give you a seat in the carriage. You can give me your opinion on my - costume, and then,” she broke into a laugh, and taking me by the hand, - added in my ear: “Bring your little pots and come early. This is between - ourselves.” She put her finger to her lip as a signal for discretion. - “Till tomorrow, then.” - </p> - <p> - The following evening my aunt’s bedroom presented a spectacle of most wild - disorder. - </p> - <p> - Her maid and the dressmaker, with haggard eyes, for they had been up all - night, were both on their knees, rummaging amidst the bows of satin, and - feverishly sticking in pins. - </p> - <p> - “How late you are,” said my aunt to me. “Do you know that it is eleven - o’clock? and we have,” she continued, showing her white teeth, “a great - many things to do yet. The horses have been put to this last hour. I am - sure they will take cold in that icy courtyard.” As she spoke she - stretched out her foot, shod with a red-heeled slipper, glittering with - gold embroidery. Her plump foot seemed to overflow the side of the shoe a - trifle, and through the openwork of her bright silk stocking the rosy skin - of her ankle showed at intervals. - </p> - <p> - “What do you think of me, Monsieur Artist?” - </p> - <p> - “But, Countess, my dear aunt, I mean, I—I am dazzled by this July - sun, the brightest of all the year, you know. You are adorable, adorable—and - your hair!” - </p> - <p> - “Is it not well arranged? Silvani did it; he has not his equal, that man. - The diamonds in the hair go splendidly, and then this lofty style of - head-dressing gives a majestic turn to the neck. I do not know whether you - are aware that I have always been a coquette as regards my neck; it is my - only bit of vanity. Have you brought your little color-pots?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, aunt, I have the whole apparatus, and if you will sit down—” - </p> - <p> - “I am frightfully pale-just a little, Ernest; you know what I told you,” - and she turned her head, presenting her right eye to me. I can still see - that eye. - </p> - <p> - I do not know what strange perfume, foreign to aunts in general, rose from - her garments. - </p> - <p> - “You understand, my dear boy, that it is only an occasion like the - present, and the necessities of a historical costume, that make me consent - to paint like this.” - </p> - <p> - “My dear little aunt, if you move, my hand will shake.” And, indeed, in - touching her long lashes, my hand trembled. - </p> - <p> - “Ah! yes, in the corner, a little—you are right, it gives a - softness, a vagueness, a—it is very funny, that little pot of blue. - How ugly it must be! How things lead on one to another! Once one’s hair is - powdered, one must have a little pearl powder on one’s face in order not - to look as yellow as an orange; and one’s cheeks once whitened, one can’t—you - are tickling me with your brush—one can’t remain like a miller, so a - touch of rouge is inevitable. And then—see how wicked it is—if, - after all that, one does not enlarge the eyes a bit, they look as if they - had been bored with a gimlet, don’t they? It is like this that one goes on - little by little, till one comes to the gallows.” - </p> - <p> - My aunt began to laugh freely, as she studied her face. - </p> - <p> - “Ah! that is very effective what you have just done—well under the - eye, that’s it. What animation it gives to the look! How clever those - creatures are, how well they know everything that becomes one! It is - shameful, for with them it is a trick, nothing more. Oh! you may put on a - little more of that blue of yours, I see what it does now. It has a very - good effect. How you are arching the eyebrows. Don’t you think it is a - little too black? You know I should not like to look as if—you are - right, though. Where did you learn all that? You might earn a deal of - money, do you know, if you set up a practice.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, aunt, are you satisfied?” - </p> - <p> - My aunt held her hand-glass at a distance, brought it near, held it away - again, smiled, and, leaning back in her chair, said: “It must be - acknowledged that it is charming, this. What do your friends call it?” - </p> - <p> - “Make-up, aunt.” - </p> - <p> - “It is vexatious that it has not another name, for really I shall have - recourse to it for the evening—from time to time. It is certain that - it is attractive. Haven’t you a little box for the lips?” - </p> - <p> - “Here it is.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! in a bottle, it is liquid.” - </p> - <p> - “It is a kind of vinegar, as you see. Don’t move, aunt. Put out your lips - as if you wished to kiss me. You don’t by chance want to?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, and you deserve it. You will teach me your little accomplishments, - will you not?” - </p> - <p> - “Willingly, aunt.” - </p> - <p> - “Your vinegar is miraculous! what brightness it gives to the lips, and how - white one’s teeth look. It is true my teeth were always—” - </p> - <p> - “Another of your bits of vanity.” - </p> - <p> - “It is done, then. Thank you.” She smiled at me mincingly, for the vinegar - stung her lips a little. - </p> - <p> - With her moistened finger she took a patch which she placed with charming - coquetry under her eye, and another which she placed near the corner of - her mouth, and then, radiant and adorable, exclaimed: “Hide away your - little color-pots; I hear your uncle coming for me. Clasp my bracelets for - me. Midnight! O my poor horses!” - </p> - <p> - At that moment my uncle entered in silk shorts and a domino. - </p> - <p> - “I hope I do not intrude,” said he, gayly, on seeing me. - </p> - <p> - “What nonsense!” said my aunt, turning toward him. “Ernest is going to the - Embassy, like ourselves, and I have offered him a seat in the carriage.” - </p> - <p> - At the aspect of my aunt, my uncle, dazzled, held out his gloved hand to - her, saying, “You are enchanting this evening, my dear.” Then, with a sly - smile, “Your complexion has a fine brightness, and your eyes have a - wonderful brilliancy.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it is the fire they have been making up—it is stifling here. - But you, my dear, you look splendid; I have never seen your beard so - black.” - </p> - <p> - “It is because I am so pale—I am frozen. Jean forgot to look after - my fire at all, and it went out. Are you ready?” - </p> - <p> - My aunt smiled in turn as she took up her fan. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII. MY AUNT AS VENUS - </h2> - <p> - Since that day when I kissed Madame de B. right on the centre of the neck, - as she held out her forehead to me, there has crept into our intercourse - an indescribable, coquettish coolness, which is nevertheless by no means - unpleasant. The matter of the kiss has never been completely explained. It - happened just as I left Saint-Cyr. I was full of ardor, and the cravings - of my heart sometimes blinded me. I say that they sometimes blinded me; I - repeat, blinded me, and this is true, for really I must have been - possessed to have kissed my aunt on the neck as I did that day. But let - that pass. - </p> - <p> - It was not that she was hardly worth it; my little auntie, as I used to - call her then, was the prettiest woman in the world—coquettish, - elegant; and what a foot! and, above all, that delightful little—I - don’t know what—which is so fashionable now, and which tempts one - always to say too much. - </p> - <p> - When I say that I must have been possessed, it is because I think of the - consequences to which that kiss might have led. Her husband, General de - B., being my direct superior, it might have got me into a very awkward - position; besides, there is the respect due to one’s family. Oh, I have - never failed in that. - </p> - <p> - But I do not know why I am recalling all these old recollections, which - have nothing in common with what I am about to relate to you. My intention - was simply to tell you that since my return from Mexico I go pretty - frequently to Madame de B.‘s, as perhaps you do also, for she keeps up a - rather good establishment, receives every Monday evening, and there is - usually a crowd of people at her house, for she is very entertaining. - There is no form of amusement that she does not resort to in order to keep - up her reputation as a woman of fashion. I must own, however, that I had - never seen anything at her house to equal what I saw last Monday. - </p> - <p> - I was in the ante-room, where the footman was helping me off with my - top-coat, when Jean, approaching me with a suspicion of mystery, said: “My - mistress expects to see you immediately, Monsieur, in her bedroom. If you - will walk along the passage and knock at the door at the end, you will - find her.” - </p> - <p> - When one has just returned from the other side of the world, such words - sound queer. The old affair of the kiss recurred to me in spite of myself. - What could my aunt want with me? - </p> - <p> - I tapped quietly at the door, and heard at once an outburst of stifled - laughter. - </p> - <p> - “Wait a moment,” exclaimed a laughing voice. - </p> - <p> - “I won’t be seen in this state,” whispered another—“Yes”—“No”—“You - are absurd, my dear, since it is an affair of art.”—“Ha, ha, ha.” - And they laughed and laughed again. - </p> - <p> - At last a voice cried, “Come in,” and I turned the handle. - </p> - <p> - At first glance I could only make out a confused chaos, impossible to - describe, amidst which my aunt was bustling about clad in pink fleshings. - Clad, did I say?—very airily. - </p> - <p> - The furniture, the carpet, the mantel-piece were encumbered, almost buried - under a heterogeneous mass of things. Muslin petticoats, tossed down - haphazard, pieces of lace, a cardboard helmet covered with gilt paper, - open jewel-cases, bows of ribbon; curling-tongs, half hidden in the ashes; - and on every side little pots, paint-brushes, odds and ends of all kinds. - Behind two screens, which ran across the room, I could hear whisperings, - and the buzzing sound peculiar to women dressing themselves. In one corner - Silvani—the illustrious Silvani, still wearing the large white apron - he assumes when powdering his clients—was putting away his - powder-puff and turning down his sleeves with a satisfied air. I stood - petrified. What was going on at my aunt’s? - </p> - <p> - She discovered my astonishment, and without turning round she said in - agitated tones: - </p> - <p> - “Ah! is it you, Ernest?” Then as if making up her mind, she broke into a - hearty burst of laughter, like all women who have good teeth, and added, - with a slightly superior air, “You see, we are having private - theatricals.” - </p> - <p> - Then turning toward me with her elegant coiffure powdered to excess, I - could see that her face was painted like that of a priestess of antiquity. - That gauze, that atmosphere, redolent with feminine perfumes, and behind - those screens-behind those screens! - </p> - <p> - “Women in society,” I said to myself, looking about me, “must be mad to - amuse themselves in this fashion.” - </p> - <p> - “And what piece are you going to play, aunt, in such an attractive - costume?” - </p> - <p> - “Good evening, Captain,” called out a laughing voice from behind the - screen on the right. - </p> - <p> - “We were expecting you,” came from behind the screen on the left. - </p> - <p> - “Good evening, ladies; what can I do for you?” - </p> - <p> - “It is not a play,” observed my aunt, modestly drawing together her - sea-weed draperies. “How behind the age you are, to think that any one - plays set-pieces nowadays. It is not a piece, it is a ‘tableau vivant’, - ‘The judgment of Paris.’ You know ‘The Judgment of Paris’? I take the part - of Venus—I did not want to, but they all urged me—give me a - pin—on the mantelpiece—near the bag of bonbons—there to - the left, next to the jewel-case—close by the bottle of gum standing - on my prayer-book. Can’t you see? Ah! at last. In short, the knife to my - throat to compel me to play Venus.” - </p> - <p> - Turning to the screen on the right she said: “Pass me the red for the - lips, dear; mine are too pale.” To the hairdresser, who is making his way - to the door: “Silvani, go to the gentlemen who are dressing in the - billiard-room, and in the Baron’s dressing-room, they perhaps may need - you. Madame de S. and her daughters are in the boudoir—ah! see - whether Monsieur de V. has found his apple again—he plays Paris,” - added my aunt, turning toward me once more; “the apple must not be lost—well, - dear, and that red for the lips I asked you for? Pass it to the Captain - over the screen.” - </p> - <p> - “Here it is; but make haste, Captain, my cuirass cracks as soon as I raise - my arm.” - </p> - <p> - I descried above the screen two slender fingers, one of which, covered - with glittering rings, held in the air a little pot without a cover. - </p> - <p> - “What,—is your cuirass cracking, Marchioness?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! it will do, but make haste and take it, Captain.” - </p> - <p> - “You may think it strange, but I tremble like a leaf,” exclaimed my aunt. - “I am afraid of being ill. Do you hear the gentlemen who are dressing in - there in the Baron’s dressing room? What a noise! Ha! ha! ha! it is - charming, a regular gang of strollers. It is exhilarating, do you know, - this feverish existence, this life in front of the footlights. But, for - the love of Heaven, shut the door, Marie, there is a frightful draught - blowing on me. This hourly struggle with the public, the hisses, the - applause, would, with my impressionable nature, drive me mad, I am sure.” - </p> - <p> - The old affair of the kiss recurred to me and I said to myself, “Captain, - you misunderstood the nature of your relative.” - </p> - <p> - “But that is not the question at all,” continued my aunt; “ten o’clock is - striking. Ernest, can you apply liquid white? As you are rather - experienced—” - </p> - <p> - “Rather—ha! ha! ha!” said some one behind the screen. - </p> - <p> - “On the whole,” continued the Baroness, “it would be very singular if, in - the course of your campaigns, you had never seen liquid white applied.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, aunt, I have some ideas; yes, I have some ideas about liquid white, - and by summoning together all my recollections—” - </p> - <p> - “Is it true, Captain, that it causes rheumatism?” - </p> - <p> - “No, not at all; have a couple of logs put on the fire and give me the - stuff.” - </p> - <p> - So saying, I turned up my sleeves and poured some of the “Milk of Beauty” - into a little onyx bowl that was at hand, then I dipped a little sponge - into it, and approached my Aunt Venus with a smile. - </p> - <p> - “You are sure that it has no effect on the skin—no, I really dare - not.” As she said this she looked as prim as a vestal. “It is the first - time, do you know, that I ever used this liquid white, ah! ah! ah! What a - baby I am! I am all in a shiver.” - </p> - <p> - “But, my dear, you are foolish,” exclaimed the lady of the screen, - breaking into a laugh; “when one acts one must submit to the exigencies of - the footlights.” - </p> - <p> - “You hear, aunt? Come, give me your arm.” - </p> - <p> - She held out her full, round arm, on the surface of which was spread that - light and charming down, symbol of maturity. I applied the wet sponge. - </p> - <p> - “Oh! oh! oh!” exclaimed the Baroness; “it is like ice, a regular - shower-bath, and you want to put that all over me?” - </p> - <p> - Just then there was a knock at the door which led out of the Baron’s - dressing-room, and instinctively I turned toward it. - </p> - <p> - “Who’s there? Oh! you are letting it splutter all over me!” exclaimed the - Baroness. “You can’t come in; what is it?” - </p> - <p> - “What is the matter, aunt?” - </p> - <p> - “You can’t come in,” exclaimed some one behind the screen; “my cuirass has - split. Marie, Rosine, a needle and thread, the gum.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! there is a stream all down my back, your horrid white is running - down,” said the Baroness, in a rage. - </p> - <p> - “I will wipe it. I am really very sorry.” - </p> - <p> - “Can you get your hand down my back, do you think?” - </p> - <p> - “Why not, aunt?” - </p> - <p> - “Why not, why not! Because where there is room for a drop of water, there - is not room for the hand of a lancer.” - </p> - <p> - Another knock, this time at the door opening from the passage. - </p> - <p> - “What is it now?” - </p> - <p> - “The torches have come, Madame,” said a footman. “Will you have them - lighted?” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! the torches of Mesdemoiselles de N., who are dressing in the boudoir. - No, certainly not, do not light them, they are not wanted till the second - tableau.” - </p> - <p> - “Do not stir, aunt, I beg of you. Mesdemoiselles de N. appears too, then?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, with their mamma; they represent ‘The Lights of Faith driving out - Unbelief,’ thus they naturally require torches. You know, they are tin - tubes with spirits of wine which blazes up. It will be, perhaps, the - prettiest tableau of the evening. It is an indirect compliment we wish to - pay to the Cardinal’s nephew; you know the dark young man with very curly - hair and saintly eyes; you saw him last Monday. He is in high favor at - court. The Comte de Geloni was kind enough to promise to come this - evening, and then Monsieur de Saint P. had the idea of this tableau. His - imagination is boundless, Monsieur de Saint P., not to mention his good - taste, if he would not break his properties.” - </p> - <p> - “Is he not also a Chevalier of the Order of Saint Gregory?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, and, between ourselves, I think that he would not be sorry to become - an officer in it.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! I understand, ‘The Lights of Faith driving out,’ et cetera. But tell - me, aunt, am I not brushing you too hard? Lift up your arm a little, - please. Tell me who has undertaken the part of Unbelief?” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t speak of it, it is quite a history. As it happened, the casting of - the parts took place the very evening on which his Holiness’s Encyclical - was published, so that the gentlemen were somewhat excited. Monsieur de - Saint P. took high ground, really very high ground; indeed, I thought for - a moment that the General was going to flare out. In short, no one would - have anything to do with Unbelief, and we had to have recourse to the - General’s coachman, John—you know him? He is a good-looking fellow; - he is a Protestant, moreover, so that the part is not a novel one to him.” - </p> - <p> - “No matter, it will be disagreeable for the De N.‘s to appear side by side - with a servant.” - </p> - <p> - “Come! such scruples must not be carried too far; he is smeared over with - black and lies stretched on his face, while the three ladies trample on - him, so you see that social proprieties are observed after all. Come, have - you done yet? My hair is rather a success, is it not? Silvani is the only - man who understands how to powder one. He wanted to dye it red, but I - prefer to wait till red hair has found its way a little more into - society.” - </p> - <p> - “There; it is finished, aunt. Is it long before you have to go on?” - </p> - <p> - “No. Good Heavens, it is close on eleven o’clock! The thought of appearing - before all these people—don’t the flowers drooping from my head make - my neck appear rather awkward, Ernest? Will you push them up a little?” - </p> - <p> - Then going to the door of the dressing-room she tapped at it gently, - saying, “Are you ready, Monsieur de V.?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Baroness, I have found my apple, but I am horribly nervous. Are - Minerva and Juno dressed? Oh! I am nervous to a degree you have no idea - of.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, every one is ready; send word to the company in the - drawing-room. My poor heart throbs like to burst, Captain.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IX. HUSBAND AND WIFE MY DEAR SISTERS: - </h2> - <p> - Marriage, as it is now understood, is not exactly conducive to love. In - this I do not think that I am stating an anomaly. Love in marriage is, as - a rule, too much at his ease; he stretches himself with too great - listlessness in armchairs too well cushioned. He assumes the unconstrained - habits of dressing-gown and slippers; his digestion goes wrong, his - appetite fails and of an evening, in the too-relaxing warmth of a nest, - made for him, he yawns over his newspaper, goes to sleep, snores, and - pines away. It is all very well, my sisters, to say, “But not at all—but - how can it be, Father Z.?—you know nothing about it, reverend - father.” - </p> - <p> - I maintain that things are as I have stated, and that at heart you are - absolutely of my opinion. Yes, your poor heart has suffered very often; - there are nights during which you have wept, poor angel, vainly awaiting - the dream of the evening before. - </p> - <p> - “Alas!” you say, “is it then all over? One summer’s day, then thirty years - of autumn, to me, who am so fond of sunshine.” That is what you have - thought. - </p> - <p> - But you say nothing, not knowing what you should say. Lacking - self-confidence and ignorant of yourself, you have made it a virtue to - keep silence and not wake your husband while he sleeps; you have got into - the habit of walking on the tips of your toes so as not to disturb the - household, and your husband, in the midst of this refreshing half-sleep, - has begun to yawn luxuriously; then he has gone out to his club, where he - has been received like the prodigal son, while you, poor poet without pen - or ink, have consoled yourself by watching your sisters follow the same - road as yourself. - </p> - <p> - You have, all of you, ladies, your pockets full of manuscripts, charming - poems, delightful romances; it is a reader who is lacking to you, and your - husband takes up his hat and stick at the very sight of your handwriting; - he firmly believes that there are no more romances except those already in - print. From having read so many, he considers that no more can be written. - </p> - <p> - This state of things I regard as absolutely detestable. I look upon you, - my dear sisters, as poor victims, and if you will permit I will give you - my opinion on the subject. - </p> - <p> - Esteem and friendship between husband and wife are like our daily bread, - very pleasant and respectable; but a little jam would not spoil that, you - will admit! If, therefore, one of your friends complains of the freedom - that reigns in this little book, let her talk on and be sure beforehand - that this friend eats dry bread. We have described marriage as we think it - should be—depicting smiling spouses, delighted to be together. - </p> - <p> - Is it because love is rare as between husband and wife that it is - considered unbecoming to relate its joys? Is it regret, or envy, that - renders you fastidious on the subject, sisters? Reserve your blushes for - the pictures of that society of courtesans where love is an article of - commerce, where kisses are paid for in advance. Regard the relation of - these coarse pleasures as immodest and revolting, be indignant, scold your - brethren—I will admit that you are in the right beforehand; but for - Heaven’s sake do not be offended if we undertake your defence, when we try - to render married life pleasant and attractive, and advise husbands to - love their wives, wives to love their husbands. - </p> - <p> - You must understand that there is a truly moral side to all this. To prove - that you are adorable; that there are pleasures, joys, happiness, to be - found outside the society of those young women—such is our object; - and since we are about to describe it, we venture to hope that after - reflecting for a few minutes you will consider our intentions - praiseworthy, and encourage us to persevere in them. - </p> - <p> - I do not know why mankind has chosen to call marriage a man-trap, and all - sorts of frightful things; to stick up all round it boards on which one - reads: “Beware of the sacred ties of marriage;” “Do not jest with the - sacred duties of a husband;” “Meditate on the sacred obligation of a - father of a family;” “Remember that the serious side of life is - beginning;” “No weakness; henceforth you are bound to find yourself face - to face with stern reality,” etc., etc. - </p> - <p> - I will not say that it is imprudent to set forth all those fine things; - but when done it should be done with less affectation. To warn people that - there are thorns in the path is all very well; but, hang it! there is - something else in married life, something that renders these duties - delightful, else this sacred position and these ties would soon be nothing - more than insupportable burdens. One would really think that to take to - one’s self a pretty little wife, fresh in heart and pure in mind, and to - condemn one’s self to saw wood for the rest of one’s days, were one and - the same thing. - </p> - <p> - Well, my dear sisters, have you any knowledge of those who have painted - the picture in these gloomy colors and described as a punishment that - which should be a reward? They are the husbands with a past and having - rheumatism. Being weary and—how shall I put it?—men of the - world, they choose to represent marriage as an asylum, of which you are to - be the angels. No doubt to be an angel is very nice, but, believe me, it - is either too much or too little. Do not seek to soar so high all at once, - but, instead, enter on a short apprenticeship. It will be time enough to - don the crown of glory when you have no longer hair enough to dress in any - other fashion. - </p> - <p> - But, O husbands with a past! do you really believe that your own angelic - quietude and the studied austerity of your principles are taken for - anything else than what they really mean—exhaustion? - </p> - <p> - You wish to rest; well and good; but it is wrong in you to wish everybody - else about you to rest too; to ask for withered trees and faded grass in - May, the lamps turned down and the lamp-shades doubled; to require one to - put water in the soup and to refuse one’s self a glass of claret; to look - for virtuous wives to be highly respectable and somewhat wearisome beings; - dressing neatly, but having had neither poetry, youth, gayety, nor vague - desires; ignorant of everything, undesirous of learning anything; - helpless, thanks to the weighty virtues with which you have crammed them; - above all, to ask of these poor creatures to bless your wisdom, caress - your bald forehead, and blush with shame at the echo of a kiss. - </p> - <p> - The deuce! but that is a pretty state of things for marriage to come to. - </p> - <p> - Delightful institution! How far are your sons, who are now five-and-twenty - years of age, in the right in being afraid of it! Have they not a right to - say to you, twirling their moustaches: - </p> - <p> - “But, my dear father, wait a bit; I am not quite ripe for it!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; but it is a splendid match, and the young lady is charming.” - </p> - <p> - “No doubt, but I feel that I should not make her happy. I am not old - enough—indeed, I am not.” - </p> - <p> - And when the young man is seasoned for it, how happy she will be, poor - little thing!—a ripe husband, ready to fall from the tree, fit to be - put away in the apple-loft! What happiness! a good husband, who the day - after his marriage will piously place his wife in a niche and light a - taper in front of her; then take his hat and go off to spend elsewhere a - scrap of youth left by chance at the bottom of his pocket. - </p> - <p> - Ah! my good little sisters who are so very much shocked and cry “Shame!” - follow our reasoning a little further. It is all very well that you should - be treated like saints, but do not let it be forgotten that you are women, - and, listen to me, do not forget it yourselves. - </p> - <p> - A husband, majestic and slightly bald, is a good thing; a young husband - who loves you and eats off the same plate is better. If he rumples your - dress a little, and imprints a kiss, in passing, on the back of your neck, - let him. When, on coming home from a ball, he tears out the pins, tangles - the strings, and laughs like a madman, trying to see whether you are - ticklish, let him. Do not cry “Murder!” if his moustache pricks you, but - think that it is all because at heart he loves you well. He worships your - virtues; is it surprising hence that he should cherish their outward - coverings? No doubt you have a noble soul; but your body is not therefore - to be despised; and when one loves fervently, one loves everything at the - same time. Do not be alarmed if in the evening, when the fire is burning - brightly and you are chatting gayly beside it, he should take off one of - your shoes and stockings, put your foot on his lap, and in a moment of - forgetfulness carry irreverence so far as to kiss it; if he likes to pass - your large tortoise-shell comb through your hair, if he selects your - perfumes, arranges your plaits, and suddenly exclaims, striking his - forehead: “Sit down there, darling; I have an idea how to arrange a new - coiffure.” - </p> - <p> - If he turns up his sleeves and by chance tangles your curls, where really - is the harm? Thank Heaven if in the marriage which you have hit upon you - find a laughing, joyous side; if in your husband you find the loved reader - of the pretty romance you have in your pocket; if, while wearing cashmere - shawls and costly jewels in your ears, you find the joys of a real - intimacy—that is delicious! In short, reckon yourself happy if in - your husband you find a lover. - </p> - <p> - But before accepting my theories, ladies, although in your heart and - conscience you find them perfect, you will have several little prejudices - to overcome; above all, you will have to struggle against your education, - which is deplorable, as I have already said, but that is no great matter. - Remember that under the pretext of education you have been stuffed, my - dear sisters. You have been varnished too soon, like those pictures - painted for sales, which crack all over six months after purchase. Your - disposition has not been properly directed; you are not cultivated; you - have been stifled, pruned; you have been shaped like those yew-trees at - Versailles which represent goblets and birds. Still, you are women at the - bottom, though you no longer look it. - </p> - <p> - You are handed over to us men swaddled, distorted, stuffed with prejudices - and principles, heavy as paving-stones; all of which are the more - difficult to dislodge since you look upon them as sacred; you are started - on the matrimonial journey with so much luggage reckoned as indispensable; - and at the first station your husband, who is not an angel, loses his - temper amidst all these encumbrances, sends it all to the devil under some - pretext or other, lets you go on alone, and gets into another carriage. I - do not require, mark me, that you should be allowed to grow up uncared - for, that good or evil instincts should be suffered to spring up in you - anyhow: but it were better that they should not treat your poor mind like - the foot of a well-born Chinese girl—that they should not enclose it - in a porcelain slipper. - </p> - <p> - A marriageable young lady is a product of maternal industry, which takes - ten years to fructify, and needs from five to six more years of study on - the part of the husband to purify, strip, and restore to its real shape. - In other words, it takes ten years to make a bride and six years at least - to turn this bride into a woman again. Admit frankly that this is time - lost as regards happiness, but try to make it up if your husband will - permit you to do so. - </p> - <p> - The sole guaranty of fidelity between husband and wife is love. One - remains side by side with a fellow-traveller only so long as one - experiences pleasure and happiness in his company. Laws, decrees, oaths, - may prevent faithlessness, or at least punish it, but they can neither - hinder nor punish intention. But as regards love, intention and deed are - the same. - </p> - <p> - Is it not true, my dear sisters, that you are of this opinion? Do not you - thoroughly understand that if love is absent from marriage it should, on - the contrary, be its real pivot? To make one’s self lovable is the main - thing. Believe my white hairs that it is so, and let me give you some more - advice. - </p> - <p> - Yes, I favor marriage—I do not conceal it—the happy marriage - in which we cast into the common lot our ideas and our sorrows, as well as - our good-humor and our affections. Suppress, by all means, in this - partnership, gravity and affectation, yet add a sprinkling of gallantry - and good-fellowship. Preserve even in your intimacy that coquetry you so - readily assume in society. Seek to please your husband. Be amiable. - Consider that your husband is an audience, whose sympathy you must - conquer. - </p> - <p> - In your manner of loving mark those shades, those feminine delicacies, - which double the price of things. Do not be miserly, but remember that the - manner in which one gives adds to the value of the gift; or rather do not - give—make yourself sought after. Think of those precious jewels that - are arranged with such art in their satin-lined jewel-case; never forget - the case. Let your nest be soft, let your presence be felt in all its - thousand trifles. Put a little of yourself into the ordering of - everything. Be artistic, delicate, and refined—you can do so without - effort—and let your husband perceive in everything that surrounds - him, from the lace on the curtains to the perfume that you use, a wish on - your part to please him. - </p> - <p> - Do not say to him, “I love you”; that phrase may perhaps recall to him a - recollection or two. But lead him on to say to you, “You do love me, - then?” and answer “No,” but with a little kiss which means “Yes.” Make him - feel beside you the present to be so pleasant that the past will fade from - his memory; and to this end let nothing about you recall that past, for, - despite himself, he would never forgive it in you. Do not imitate the - women whom he may have known, nor their head-dresses or toilettes; that - would tend to make him believe he has not changed his manner of life. You - have in yourself another kind of grace, another wit, another coquetry, and - above all that rejuvenescence of heart and mind which those women have - never had. You have an eagerness in life, a need of expansion, a freshness - of impression which are—though perhaps you may not imagine it—irresistible - charms. Be yourselves throughout, and you will be for this loved spouse a - novelty, a thousand times more charming in his eyes than all the bygones - possible. Conceal from him neither your inclinations nor your - inexperience, your childish joys or your childish fears; but be as - coquettish with all these as you are of the features of your face, of your - fine, black eyes and your long, fair hair. - </p> - <p> - Nothing is more easily acquired than a little adroitness; do not throw - yourself at his head, and always have confidence in yourself. - </p> - <p> - Usually, a man marries when he thinks himself ruined; when he feels in his - waistcoat pocket—not a louis—he is then seasoned; he goes at - once before the registrar. But let me tell you, sisters, he is still rich. - He has another pocket of which he knows nothing, the fool! and which is - full of gold. It is for you to act so that he shall find it out and be - grateful to you for the happiness he has had in finding a fortune. - </p> - <p> - I will sum up, at once, as time is flying and I should not like you to be - late for dinner. For Heaven’s sake, ladies, tear from the clutches of the - women, whose toilettes you do very wrong in imitating, your husbands’ - affections. Are you not more refined, more sprightly, than they? Do for - him whom you love that which these women do for all the world; do not - content yourselves with being virtuous—be attractive, perfume your - hair, nurture illusion as a rare plant in a golden vase. Cultivate a - little folly when practicable; put away your marriage-contract and look at - it only once in ten years; love one another as if you had not sworn to do - so; forget that there are bonds, contracts, pledges; banish from your mind - the recollection of the Mayor and his scarf. Sometimes when you are alone - fancy that you are only sweethearts; sister, is not that what you eagerly - desire? - </p> - <p> - Ah! let candor and youth flourish. Let us love and laugh while spring - blossoms. Let us love our babies, the little dears, and kiss our wives. - Yes, that is moral and healthy; the world is not a shivering convent, - marriage is not a tomb. Shame on those who find in it only sadness, - boredom, and sleep. - </p> - <p> - My sisters, my sisters, strive to be real; that is the blessing I wish - you. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER X. MADAME’S IMPRESSIONS - </h2> - <p> - The marriage ceremony at the Town Hall has, no doubt, a tolerable - importance; but is it really possible for a well-bred person to regard - this importance seriously? I have been through it; I have undergone like - every one else this painful formality, and I can not look back on it - without feeling a kind of humiliation. On alighting from the carriage I - descried a muddy staircase; walls placarded with bills of every color, and - in front of one of them a man in a snuff-colored coat, bare-headed, a pen - behind his ear, and papers under his arm, who was rolling a cigarette - between his inky fingers. To the left a door opened and I caught a glimpse - of a low dark room in which a dozen fellows belonging to the National - Guard were smoking black pipes. My first thought on entering this - barrack-room was that I had done wisely in not putting on my gray dress. - We ascended the staircase and I saw a long, dirty, dim passage, with a - number of half-glass doors, on which I read: “Burials. Turn the handle,” - “Expropriations,” “Deaths. Knock loudly,” “Inquiries,” “Births,” “Public - Health,” etc., and at length “Marriages.” - </p> - <p> - We entered in company with a small lad who was carrying a bottle of ink; - the atmosphere was thick, heavy, and hot, and made one feel ill. Happily, - an attendant in a blue livery, resembling in appearance the soldiers I had - seen below, stepped forward to ask us to excuse him for not having at once - ushered us into the Mayor’s drawing-room, which is no other than the - first-class waiting-room. I darted into it as one jumps into a cab when it - begins to rain suddenly. Almost immediately two serious persons, one of - whom greatly resembled the old cashier at the Petit-Saint-Thomas, brought - in two registers, and, opening them, wrote for some time; only stopping - occasionally to ask the name, age, and baptismal names of both of us, - then, saying to themselves, “Semi-colon... between the aforesaid... fresh - paragraph, etc., etc.” - </p> - <p> - When he had done, the one like the man cashier at the Petit-Saint-Thomas - read aloud, through his nose, that which he had put down, and of which I - could understand nothing, except that my name was several times repeated - as well as that of the other “aforesaid.” A pen was handed to us and we - signed. Voila. - </p> - <p> - “Is it over?” said I to Georges, who to my great surprise was very pale. - </p> - <p> - “Not yet, dear,” said he; “we must now go into the hall, where the - marriage ceremony takes place.” - </p> - <p> - We entered a large, empty hall with bare walls; a bust of the Emperor was - at the farther end over a raised platform, some armchairs, and some - benches behind them, and dust upon everything. I must have been in a wrong - mood, for it seemed to me I was entering the waiting-room at a - railway-station; nor could I help looking at my aunts, who were very - merry, over the empty chairs. The gentlemen, who no doubt affected not to - think as we did, were, on the contrary, all very serious, and I could - discern very well that Georges was actually trembling. At length the Mayor - came in by a little door and appeared before us, awkward and podgy in his - dress-coat, which was too large for him, and which his scarf caused to - rise up. He was a very respectable man who had amassed a decent fortune - from the sale of iron bedsteads; yet how could I bring myself to think - that this embarrassed-looking, ill-dressed, timid little creature could, - with a word hesitatingly uttered, unite me in eternal bonds? Moreover, he - had a fatal likeness to my piano-tuner. - </p> - <p> - The Mayor, after bowing to us, as a man bows when without his hat, and in - a white cravat, that is to say, clumsily, blew his nose, to the great - relief of his two arms which he did not know what to do with, and briskly - began the little ceremony. He hurriedly mumbled over several passages of - the Code, giving the numbers of the paragraphs; and I was given confusedly - to understand that I was threatened with the police if I did not blindly - obey all the orders and crotchets of my husband, and if I did not follow - wherever he might choose to take me, even if it should be to a sixth floor - in the Rue-Saint-Victor. A score of times I was on the point of - interrupting the Mayor, and saying, “Excuse me, Monsieur, but those - remarks are hardly polite as regards myself, and you yourself must know - that they are devoid of meaning.” - </p> - <p> - But I restrained myself for fear I might frighten the magistrate, who - seemed to me to be in a hurry to finish. He added, however, a few words on - the mutual duties of husband and wife—copartnership—paternity, - etc., etc.; but all these things, which would perhaps have made me weep - anywhere else, seemed grotesque to me, and I could not forget that dozen - of soldiers playing piquet round the stove, and that row of doors on which - I had read “Public Health,” “Burials,” “Deaths,” “Expropriations,” etc. I - should have been aggrieved at this dealer in iron bedsteads touching on my - cherished dreams if the comic side of the situation had not absorbed my - whole attention, and if a mad wish to laugh outright had not seized me. - </p> - <p> - “Monsieur Georges————, do you swear to take for - your wife Mademoiselle—————-,” said the - Mayor, bending forward. - </p> - <p> - My husband bowed and answered “Yes” in a very low voice. He has since - acknowledged to me that he never felt more emotion in his life than in - uttering that “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “Mademoiselle Berthe————,” continued the - magistrate, turning to me, “do you swear to take for your husband—————-” - </p> - <p> - I bowed, with a smile, and said to myself: “Certainly; that is plain - enough; I came here for that express purpose.” - </p> - <p> - That was all. I was married! - </p> - <p> - My father and my husband shook hands like men who had not met for twenty - years; the eyes of both were moist. As for myself, it was impossible for - me to share their emotion. I was very hungry, and mamma and I had the - carriage pulled up at the pastry-cook’s before going on to the - dressmaker’s. - </p> - <p> - The next morning was the great event, and when I awoke it was hardly - daylight. I opened the door leading into the drawing-room; there my dress - was spread out on the sofa, the veil folded beside it, my shoes, my wreath - in a large white box, nothing was lacking. I drank a glass of water. I was - nervous, uneasy, happy, trembling. It seemed like the morning of a battle - when one is sure of winning a medal. I thought of neither my past nor my - future; I was wholly taken up with the idea of the ceremony, of that - sacrament, the most solemn of all, of the oath I was about to take before - God, and also by the thought of the crowd gathered expressly to see me - pass. - </p> - <p> - We breakfasted early. My father was in his boots, his trousers, his white - tie, and his dressing-gown. My mother also was half dressed. It seemed to - me that the servants took greater pains in waiting on me and showed me - more respect. I even remember that Marie said, “The hairdresser has come, - Madame.” Madame! Good girl, I have not forgotten it. - </p> - <p> - It was impossible for me to eat; my throat was parched and I experienced - all over me shudders of impatience, something like the sensation one has - when one is very-thirsty and is waiting for the sugar to melt. The tones - of the organ seemed to haunt me, and the wedding of Emma and Louis - recurred to my mind. I dressed; the hairdresser called me “Madame” too, - and arranged my hair so nicely that I said, I remember, “Things are - beginning well; this coiffure is a good omen.” I stopped Marie, who wished - to lace me tighter than usual. I know that white makes one look stouter - and that Marie was right; but I was afraid lest it should send the blood - to my head. I have always had a horror of brides who looked as if they had - just got up from table. Religious emotions should be too profound to be - expressed by anything save pallor. It is silly to blush under certain - circumstances. - </p> - <p> - When I was dressed I entered the drawing-room to have a little more room - and to spread out my trailing skirts. My father and Georges were already - there, talking busily. - </p> - <p> - “Have the carriages come?—yes—and about the ‘Salutaris’?—very - good, then, you will see to everything—and the marriage coin—certainly, - I have the ring—Mon Dieu! where is my certificate of confession? Ah! - good, I left it in the carriage.” - </p> - <p> - They were saying all this hurriedly and gesticulating like people having - great business on hand. When Georges caught sight of me he kissed my hand, - and while the maids kneeling about me were settling the skirt, and the - hairdresser was clipping the tulle of the veil, he said in a husky voice, - “You look charming, dear.” - </p> - <p> - He was not thinking in the least of what he was saying, and I answered - mechanically: - </p> - <p> - “Do you think so? Not too short, the veil, Monsieur Silvani. Don’t forget - the bow on the bodice, Marie.” - </p> - <p> - When one has to look after everything, one needs all one’s wits. However, - Georges’ husky voice recurred to me, and I said to myself, “I am sure that - he has caught a cold; it is plain that he has had his hair cut too short.” - </p> - <p> - I soon got at the true state of the case. - </p> - <p> - “You have a cold, my dear fellow,” said my father. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t speak of it,” he answered in a low voice. And still lower, and with - a somewhat embarrassed smile: “Will you be so kind as to give me an extra - pocket-handkerchief? I have but one—” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly, my dear boy.” - </p> - <p> - “Thanks, very much.” - </p> - <p> - It was a trifle, to be sure, but I felt vexed, and I remember that, when - going downstairs with them holding up my train behind me, I said to - myself, “I do hope that he does not sneeze at the altar.” - </p> - <p> - I soon forgot all about it. We got into the carriage; I felt that every - one was looking at me, and I caught sight of groups of spectators in the - street beyond the carriage gates. What I felt is impossible to describe, - but it was something delightful. The sound of the beadles’ canes on the - pavement will forever reecho in my heart. We halted for a moment on the - red drugget. The great organ poured forth the full tones of a triumphal - march; thousands of eager faces turned toward me, and there in the - background, amidst an atmosphere of sunshine, incense, velvet, and gold, - were two gilt armchairs for us to seat ourselves on before the altar. - </p> - <p> - I do not know why an old engraving in my father’s study crossed my mind. - It represents the entry of Alexander the Great into Babylon; he is on an - elephant which is glittering with precious stones. You must know it. Only, - Alexander was a heathen who had many things to reproach himself with, - while I was not. - </p> - <p> - God smiled on me, and with His paternal hand invited me to seat myself in - His house, on His red drugget, in His gilt armchair. The heavens, full of - joy, made music for me, and on high, through the glittering stained-glass - windows, the archangels, full of kind feeling, whispered as they watched - me. As I advanced, heads were bent as a wheat-field bends beneath the - breeze. My friends, my relatives, my enemies, bowed to us, and I saw—for - one sees everything in spite of one’s self on these solemn occasions—that - they did not think that I looked ugly. On reaching the gilt chair, I bent - forward with restrained eagerness—my chignon was high, revealing my - neck, which is passable—and thanked the Lord. The organ ceased its - triumphal song and I could hear my poor mother bursting into tears beside - me. Oh! I understand what a mother’s heart must feel during such a - ceremony. While watching with satisfaction the clergy who were solemnly - advancing, I noticed Georges; he seemed irritated; he was stiff, upright, - his nostrils dilated, and his lips set. I have always been rather vexed at - him for not having been a little more sensible to what I was experiencing - that day, but men do not understand this kind of poetry. - </p> - <p> - The discourse of his Reverence who married us was a masterpiece, and was - delivered, moreover, with that unction, that dignity, that persuasive - charm peculiar to him. He spoke of our two families “in which pious belief - was hereditary, like honor.” You could have heard a pin drop, such was the - attention with which the prelate’s voice was listened to. Then at one - point he turned toward me, and gave me to understand with a thousand - delicacies that I was wedding one of the noblest officers in the army. - “Heaven smiles,” said he, “on the warrior who places at the service of his - country a sword blessed by God, and who, when he darts into the fray, can - place his hand upon his heart and shout to the enemy that noble war-cry, - ‘I believe!’” How well that was turned! What grandeur in this holy - eloquence! A thrill ran through the assembly. But that was not all. His - Lordship then addressed Georges in a voice as soft and unctuous as it had - before been ringing and enthusiastic. - </p> - <p> - “Monsieur, you are about to take as your companion a young girl”—I - scarcely dare recall the graceful and delicate things that his Reverence - said respecting me—“piously reared by a Christian mother who has - been able to share with her, if I may say so, all the virtues of her - heart, all the charms of her mind.” (Mamma was sobbing.) “She will love - her husband as she has loved her father, that father full of kindness, - who, from the cradle, implanted in her the sentiments of nobility and - disinterestedness which—” (Papa smiled despite himself.) “Her - father, whose name is known to the poor, and who in the house of God has - his place marked among the elect.” (Since his retirement, papa has become - churchwarden.) “And you, Monsieur, will respect, I feel certain, so much - purity, such ineffable candor”—I felt my eyes grow moist—“and - without forgetting the physical and perishable charms of this angel whom - God bestows upon you, you will thank Heaven for those qualities a thousand - times more precious and more lasting contained in her heart and her mind.” - </p> - <p> - We were bidden to stand up, and stood face to face with one another like - the divine spouses in the picture of Raphael. We exchanged the golden - ring, and his Reverence, in a slow, grave voice, uttered some Latin words, - the sense of which I did not understand, but which greatly moved me, for - the prelate’s hand, white, delicate, and transparent, seemed to be - blessing me. The censer, with its bluish smoke, swung by the hands of - children, shed in the air its holy perfume. What a day, great heavens! All - that subsequently took place grows confused in my memory. I was dazzled, I - was transported. I can remember, however, the bonnet with white roses in - which Louise had decked herself out. Strange it is how some people are - quite wanting in taste! - </p> - <p> - Going to the vestry, I leaned on the General’s arm, and it was then that I - saw the spectators’ faces. All seemed touched. - </p> - <p> - Soon they thronged round to greet me. The vestry was full, they pushed and - pressed round me, and I replied to all these smiles, to all these - compliments, by a slight bow in which religious emotion peeped forth in - spite of me. I felt conscious that something solemn had just taken place - before God and man; I felt conscious of being linked in eternal bonds. I - was married! - </p> - <p> - By a strange fancy I then fell to thinking of the pitiful ceremony of the - day before. I compared—God forgive me for doing so!—the - ex-dealer in iron bedsteads, ill at ease in his dress-coat, to the priest; - the trivial and commonplace words of the mayor, with the eloquent - outbursts of the venerable prelate. What a lesson! There earth, here - heaven; there the coarse prose of the man of business, here celestial - poesy. - </p> - <p> - Georges, to whom I lately spoke about this, said: - </p> - <p> - “But, my dear, perhaps you don’t know that marriage at the Town Hall - before the registrar is gratis, while—” I put my hand over his mouth - to prevent him from finishing; it seemed to me that he was about to utter - some impiety. - </p> - <p> - Gratis, gratis. That is exactly what I find so very unseemly. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XI. A WEDDING NIGHT - </h2> - <p> - Thanks to country manners and the solemnity of the occasion, the guests - had left fairly early. Almost every one had shaken hands with me, some - with a cunning smile and others with a foolish one, some with an officious - gravity that suggested condolence, and others with a stupid cordiality - verging on indiscretion. - </p> - <p> - General de S. and the prefect, two old friends of the family, were - lingering over a game of ecarte, and frankly, in spite of all the - good-will I bore toward them, I should have liked to see them at the - devil, so irritable did I feel that evening. - </p> - <p> - All this took place, I had forgotten to tell you, the very day of my - marriage, and I was really rather tired. Since morning I had been - overwhelmed by an average of about two hundred people, all actuated by the - best intentions, but as oppressive as the atmosphere before a storm. Since - morning I had kept up a perpetual smile for all, and then the good village - priest who had married us had thought it his duty, in a very neat sermon - so far as the rest of it went, to compare me to Saint Joseph, and that - sort of thing is annoying when one is Captain in a lancer regiment. The - Mayor, who had been good enough to bring his register to the chateau, had - for his part not been able, on catching sight of the prefect, to resist - the pleasure of crying, “Long live the Emperor!” On quitting the church - they had fired off guns close to my ears and presented me with an immense - bouquet. Finally—I tell you this between ourselves—since eight - o’clock in the morning I had had on a pair of boots rather too tight for - me, and at the moment this narrative begins it was about half an hour - after midnight. - </p> - <p> - I had spoken to every one except my dear little wife, whom they seemed to - take pleasure in keeping away from me. Once, however, on ascending the - steps, I had squeezed her hand on the sly. Even then this rash act had - cost me a look, half sharp and half sour, from my mother-in-law, which had - recalled me to a true sense of the situation. If, Monsieur, you happen to - have gone through a similar day of violent effusion and general expansion, - you will agree with me that during no other moment of your life were you - more inclined to irritability. - </p> - <p> - What can you say to the cousins who kiss you, to the aunts who cling round - your neck and weep into your waistcoat, to all these smiling faces ranged - one beyond the other before you, to all those eyes which have been staring - at you for twelve hours past, to all those outbursts of affection which - you have not sought, but which claim a word from the heart in reply? - </p> - <p> - At the end of such a day one’s very heart is foundered. You say to - yourself: “Come, is it all over? Is there yet a tear to wipe away, a - compliment to receive, an agitated hand to clasp? Is every one satisfied? - Have they seen enough of the bridegroom? Does any one want any more of - him? Can I at length give a thought to my own happiness, think of my dear - little wife who is waiting for me with her head buried in the folds of her - pillow? Who is waiting for me!” That flashes through your mind all at once - like a train of powder. You had not thought of it. During the whole of the - day this luminous side of the question had remained veiled, but the hour - approaches, at this very moment the silken laces of her bodice are - swishing as they are unloosed; she is blushing, agitated, and dare not - look at herself in the glass for fear of noting her own confusion. Her - aunt and her mother, her cousin and her bosom friend, surround and smile - at her, and it is a question of who shall unhook her dress, remove the - orange-blossoms from her hair, and have the last kiss. - </p> - <p> - Good! now come the tears; they are wiped away and followed by kisses. The - mother whispers something in her ear about a sacrifice, the future, - necessity, obedience, and finds means to mingle with these simple but - carefully prepared words the hope of celestial benedictions and of the - intercession of a dove or two hidden among the curtains. - </p> - <p> - The poor child does not understand anything about it, except it be that - something unheard-of is about to take place, that the young man—she - dare not call him anything else in her thoughts—is about to appear - as a conqueror and address her in wondrous phrases, the very anticipation - of which makes her quiver with impatience and alarm. The child says not a - word—she trembles, she weeps, she quivers like a partridge in a - furrow. The last words of her mother, the last farewells of her family, - ring confusedly in her ears, but it is in vain that she strives to seize - on their meaning; her mind—where is that poor mind of hers? She - really does not know, but it is no longer under her control. - </p> - <p> - “Ah! Captain,” I said to myself, “what joys are hidden beneath these - alarms, for she loves you. Do you remember that kiss which she let you - snatch coming out of church that evening when the Abbe What’s-his-name - preached so well, and those hand-squeezings and those softened glances, - and—happy Captain, floods of love will inundate you; she is awaiting - you!” - </p> - <p> - Here I gnawed my moustache, I tore my gloves off and then put them on - again, I walked up and down the little drawing-room, I shifted the clock, - which stood on the mantel-shelf; I could not keep still. I had already - experienced such sensations on the morning of the assault on the Malakoff. - Suddenly the General, who was still going on with his eternal game at - ecarte with the prefect, turned round. - </p> - <p> - “What a noise you are making, Georges!” said he. “Cards, if you please, - Prefect.” - </p> - <p> - “But, General, the fact is that I feel, I will not conceal from you, a - certain degree of emotion and—” - </p> - <p> - “The king-one-and four trumps. My dear friend, you are not in luck,” said - he to the prefect, and pulling up with an effort the white waistcoat - covering his stomach, he slipped some louis which were on the table L931 - into his fob; then bethinking himself, he added: “In fact, my poor fellow, - you think yourself bound to keep us company. It is late and we have three - leagues to cover from here to B. Every one has left, too.” - </p> - <p> - At last he departed. I can still see his thick neck, the back of which - formed a roll of fat over his ribbon of the Legion of Honor. I heard him - get into his carriage; he was still laughing at intervals. I could have - thrashed him. - </p> - <p> - “At last!” I said to myself; “at last!” I mechanically glanced at myself - in the glass. I was crimson, and my boots, I am ashamed to say, were - horribly uncomfortable. I was furious that such a grotesque detail as - tight boots should at such a moment have power to attract my attention; - but I promised to be sincere, and I am telling you the whole truth. - </p> - <p> - Just then the clock struck one, and my mother-in-law made her appearance. - Her eyes were red, and her ungloved hand was crumpling up a handkerchief - visibly moistened. - </p> - <p> - At the sight of her my first movement was one of impatience. I said to - myself, “I am in for a quarter of an hour of it at least.” - </p> - <p> - Indeed, Madame de C. sank down on a couch, took my hand, and burst into - tears. Amid her sobs she ejaculated, “Georges—my dear boy—Georges—my - son.” - </p> - <p> - I felt that I could not rise to the occasion. “Come, Captain,” I said to - myself, “a tear; squeeze forth a tear. You can not get out of this - becomingly without a tear, or it will be, ‘My son-in-law, it is all off.’” - </p> - <p> - When this stupid phrase, derived from I do not know where—a Palais - Royal farce, I believe—had once got into my head, it was impossible - for me to get rid of it, and I felt bursts of wild merriment welling up to - my lips. - </p> - <p> - “Calm yourself, Madame; calm yourself.” - </p> - <p> - “How can I, Georges? Forgive me, my dear boy.” - </p> - <p> - “Can you doubt me, Madame?” - </p> - <p> - I felt that “Madame” was somewhat cold, but I was afraid of making Madame - de C. seem old by calling her “mother.” I knew her to be somewhat of a - coquette. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I do not doubt your affection; go, my dear boy, go and make her - happy; yes, oh, yes! Fear nothing on my account; I am strong.” - </p> - <p> - Nothing is more unbearable than emotion when one does not share it. I - murmured “Mother!” feeling that after all she must appreciate such an - outburst; then approaching, I kissed her, and made a face in spite of - myself—such a salt and disagreeable flavor had been imparted to my - mother-in-law’s countenance by the tears she had shed. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XII. THE HONEYMOON - </h2> - <p> - It had been decided that we should pass the first week of our honeymoon at - Madame de C.‘s chateau. A little suite of apartments had been fitted up - for us, upholstered in blue chintz, delightfully cool-looking. The term - “cool-looking” may pass here for a kind of bad joke, for in reality it was - somewhat damp in this little paradise, owing to the freshly repaired - walls. - </p> - <p> - A room had been specially reserved for me, and it was thither that, after - heartily kissing my dear mother-in-law, I flew up the stairs four at a - time. On an armchair, drawn in front of the fire, was spread out my maroon - velvet dressing-gown and close beside it were my slippers. I could not - resist, and I frantically pulled off my boots. Be that as it may, my heart - was full of love, and a thousand thoughts were whirling through my head in - frightful confusion. I made an effort, and reflected for a moment on my - position: - </p> - <p> - “Captain,” said I to myself, “the approaching moment is a solemn one. On - the manner in which you cross the threshold of married life depends your - future happiness. It is not a small matter to lay the first stone of an - edifice. A husband’s first kiss”—I felt a thrill run down my back—“a - husband’s first kiss is like the fundamental axiom that serves as a basis - for a whole volume. Be prudent, Captain. She is there beyond that wall, - the fair young bride, who is awaiting you; her ear on the alert, her neck - outstretched, she is listening to each of your movements. At every creak - of the boards she shivers, dear little soul.” - </p> - <p> - As I said this, I took off my coat and my cravat. “Your line of conduct - lies before you ready traced out,” I added; “be impassioned with due - restraint, calm with some warmth, good, kind, tender; but at the same time - let her have a glimpse of the vivacities of an ardent affection and the - attractive aspect of a robust temperament.” Suddenly I put my coat on - again. I felt ashamed to enter my wife’s room in a dressing-gown and night - attire. Was it not equal to saying to her: “My dear, I am at home; see how - I make myself so”? It was making a show of rights which I did not yet - possess, so I rearranged my dress, and after the thousand details of a - careful toilette I approached the door and gave three discreet little - taps. Oh! I can assure you that I was all in a tremble, and my heart was - beating so violently that I pressed my hand to my chest to restrain its - throbs. - </p> - <p> - She answered nothing, and after a moment of anguish I decided to knock - again. I felt tempted to say in an earnest voice, “It is I, dear; may I - come in?” But I also felt that it was necessary that this phrase should be - delivered in the most perfect fashion, and I was afraid of marring its - effect; I remained, therefore, with a smile upon my lips as if she had - been able to see me, and I twirled my moustache, which, without - affectation, I had slightly perfumed. - </p> - <p> - I soon heard a faint cough, which seemed to answer me and to grant me - admission. Women, you see, possess that exquisite tact, that extreme - delicacy, which is wholly lacking to us. Could one say more cleverly, in a - more charming manner, “Come, I await you, my love, my spouse”? Saint Peter - would not have hit upon it. That cough was heaven opening to me. I turned - the handle, the door swept noiselessly over the soft carpet. I was in my - wife’s room. - </p> - <p> - A delightful warmth met me face to face, and I breathed a vague perfume of - violets and orris-root, or something akin, with which the air of the room - was laden. A charming disorder was apparent, the ball dress was spread - upon a lounging-chair, two candles were discreetly burning beneath - rose-colored shades. - </p> - <p> - I drew near the bed where Louise was reposing, on the farther side of it, - with her face to the wall, and her head buried in the pillows. Motionless - and with closed eyes she appeared to be asleep, but her heightened color - betrayed her emotion. I must acknowledge that at that moment I felt the - most embarrassed of mankind. I resolved humbly to request hospitality. - That would be delicate and irreproachable. Oh! you who have gone through - these trials, search your memories and recall that ridiculous yet - delightful moment, that moment of mingled anguish and joy, when it becomes - necessary, without any preliminary rehearsal, to play the most difficult - of parts, and to avoid the ridicule which is grinning at you from the - folds of the curtains; to be at one and the same time a diplomatist, a - barrister, and a man of action, and by skill, tact, and eloquence render - the sternest of realities acceptable without banishing the most ideal of - dreams. - </p> - <p> - I bent over the bed, and in the softest notes, the sweetest tones my voice - could compass, I murmured, “Well, darling?” - </p> - <p> - One does what one can at such moments; I could not think of anything - better, and yet, Heaven knows, I had tried. - </p> - <p> - No reply, and yet she was awake. I will admit that my embarrassment was - doubled. I had reckoned—I can say as much between ourselves—upon - more confidence and greater yielding. I had calculated on a moment of - effusiveness, full of modesty and alarm, it is true, but, at any rate, I - had counted upon such effusiveness, and I found myself strangely - disappointed. The silence chilled me. - </p> - <p> - “You sleep very soundly, dear. Yet I have a great many things to say; - won’t you talk a little?” - </p> - <p> - As I spoke I—touched her shoulder with the tip of my finger, and saw - her suddenly shiver. - </p> - <p> - “Come,” said I; “must I kiss you to wake you up altogether?” - </p> - <p> - She could not help smiling, and I saw that she was blushing. - </p> - <p> - “Oh! do not be afraid, dear; I will only kiss the tips of your fingers - gently, like that,” and seeing that she let me do so, I sat down on the - bed. - </p> - <p> - She gave a little cry. I had sat down on her foot, which was straying - beneath the bedclothes. - </p> - <p> - “Please let me go to sleep,” she said, with a supplicating air; “I am so - tired.” - </p> - <p> - “And how about myself, my dear child? I am ready to drop. See, I am in - evening dress, and have not a pillow to rest my head on, not one, except - this one.” I had her hand in mine, and I squeezed it while kissing it. - “Would you be very vexed to lend this pillow to your husband? Come, are - you going to refuse me a little bit of room? I am not troublesome, I can - assure you.” - </p> - <p> - I thought I noted a smile on her lips, and, impatient to escape from my - delicate position, in a moment I rose, and, while continuing to converse, - hastelessly and noiselessly undressed. I was burning my ships. When my - ships were burned there was absolutely nothing left for me to do but to - get into bed. - </p> - <p> - Louise gave a little cry, then she threw herself toward the wall, and I - heard a kind of sob. - </p> - <p> - I had one foot in bed and the other out, and remained petrified, a smile - on my lips, and supporting myself wholly on one arm. - </p> - <p> - “What is the matter-dear; what is the matter? Forgive me if I have - offended you.” - </p> - <p> - I brought my head closer to her own, and, while inhaling the perfume of - her hair, whispered in her ear: - </p> - <p> - “I love you, my dear child; I love you, little wife; don’t you think that - I do?” - </p> - <p> - She turned toward me her eyes, moistened with tears, and said in a voice - broken by emotion and so soft, so low, so tender, that it penetrated to - the marrow of my bones: - </p> - <p> - “I love you, too. But let me sleep!” - </p> - <p> - “Sleep, my loved angel; sleep fearlessly, my love. I am going away; sleep - while I watch over you,” I said. - </p> - <p> - Upon my honor I felt a sob rise to my throat, and yet the idea that my - last remark was not badly turned shot through my brain. I pulled the - coverings over her again and tucked her up like a child. I can still see - her rosy face buried in that big pillow, the curls of fair hair escaping - from under the lace of her little nightcap. With her left hand she held - the counterpane close up under her chin, and I saw on one of her fingers - the new and glittering wedding-ring I had given her that morning. She was - charming, a bird nestling in cottonwool, a rosebud fallen amid snow. When - she was settled I bent over her and kissed her on the forehead. - </p> - <p> - “I am repaid,” said I to her, laughing; “are you comfortable, Louise?” - </p> - <p> - She did not answer, but her eyes met mine and I saw in them a smile which - seemed to thank me, but a smile so subtle that in any other circumstances - I should have seen a shadow of raillery in it. - </p> - <p> - “Now, Captain, settle yourself in this armchair and goodnight!” I said - this to myself, and I made an effort to raise my unfortunate foot which I - had forgotten, a heroic effort, but it was impossible to accomplish it. - The leg was so benumbed that I could not move it. As well as I could I - hoisted myself upon the other leg, and, hobbling, reached my armchair - without appearing too lame. The room seemed to me twice as wide to cross - as the Champ de Mars, for hardly had I taken a step in its chilly - atmosphere—the fire had gone out, it was April, and the chateau - overlooked the Loire—when the cold reminded me of the scantiness of - my costume. What! to cross the room before that angel, who was doubtless - watching me, in the most grotesque of costumes, and with a helpless leg - into the bargain! Why had I forgotten my dressing-gown? However, I reached - the armchair, into which I sank. I seized my dress-coat which was beside - me, threw it over my shoulders, twisted my white cravat round my neck, - and, like a soldier bivouacking, I sought a comfortable position. - </p> - <p> - It would have been all very well without the icy cold that assailed my - legs, and I saw nothing in reach to cover me. I said to myself, “Captain, - the position is not tenable,” when at length I perceived on the couch—One - sometimes is childishly ashamed, but I really dared not, and I waited for - a long minute struggling between a sense of the ridiculous and the cold - which I felt was increasing. At last, when I heard my wife’s breathing - become more regular and thought that she must be asleep, I stretched out - my arm and pulled toward me her wedding-gown which was on the couch—the - silk rustled enough to wake the dead—and with the energy which one - always finds on an emergency, wrapped it round me savagely like a railway - rug. Then yielding to an involuntary fit of sybaritism, I unhooked the - bellows and tried to get the fire to burn. - </p> - <p> - “After all,” I said to myself, arranging the blackened embers and working - the little instrument with a thousand precautions, “after all, I have - behaved like a gentleman. If the General saw me at this moment he would - laugh in my face; but no matter, I have acted rightly.” - </p> - <p> - Had I not sworn to be sincere, I do not know whether I should acknowledge - to you that I suddenly felt horrible tinglings in the nasal regions. I - wished to restrain myself, but the laws of nature are those which one can - not escape. My respiration suddenly ceased, I felt a superhuman power - contract my facial muscles, my nostrils dilated, my eyes closed, and all - at once I sneezed with such violence that the bottle of Eau des Carmes - shook again. God forgive me! A little cry came from the bed, and - immediately afterward the most silvery frank and ringing outbreak of - laughter followed. Then she added in her simple, sweet, musical tones: - </p> - <p> - “Have you hurt yourself—, Georges?” She had said Georges after a - brief silence, and in so low a voice that I scarcely heard it. - </p> - <p> - “I am very ridiculous, am I not, dear? and you are quite right to laugh at - me. What would you have? I am camping out and I am undergoing the - consequences.” - </p> - <p> - “You are not ridiculous, but you are catching cold,” and she began to - laugh again. - </p> - <p> - “Naughty girl!” - </p> - <p> - “Cruel one, you ought to say, and you would not be wrong if I were to let - you fall ill.” She said this with charming grace. There was a mingling of - timidity and tenderness, modesty and raillery, which I find it impossible - to express, but which stupefied me. She smiled at me, then I saw her move - nearer to the wall in order to leave room for me, and, as I hesitated to - cross the room. - </p> - <p> - “Come, forgive me,” she said. - </p> - <p> - I approached the bed; my teeth were chattering. - </p> - <p> - “How kind you are to me, dear,” she said to me after a moment or so; “will - you wish me good-night?” and she held out her cheek to me. I approached - nearer, but as the candle had just gone out I made a mistake as to the - spot, and my lips brushed hers. She quivered, then, after a brief silence, - she murmured in a low tone, “You must forgive me; you frightened me so - just now.” - </p> - <p> - “I wanted to kiss you, dear.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, kiss me, my husband.” - </p> - <p> - Within the trembling young girl the coquetry of the woman was breaking - forth in spite of herself. - </p> - <p> - I could not help it; she exhaled a delightful perfume which mounted to my - brain, and the contact of this dear creature whom I touched, despite - myself, swept away all my resolutions. - </p> - <p> - My lips—I do not know how it was—met hers, and we remained - thus for a long moment; I felt against my breast the echo of the beating - heart, and her rapid breathing came full into my face. - </p> - <p> - “You do love me a little, dear?” I whispered in her ear. - </p> - <p> - I distinguished amid a confused sigh a little “Yes!” that resembled a mere - breath. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t frighten you any longer?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” she murmured, very softly. - </p> - <p> - “You will be my little wife, then, Louise; you will let me teach you to - love me as I love you?” - </p> - <p> - “I do love you,” said she, but so softly and so gently that she seemed to - be dreaming. - </p> - <p> - How many times have we not laughed over these recollections, already so - remote. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - BOOK 2. - </h2> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIII. THE BLUE NOTE-BOOK - </h2> - <p> - Toward midnight mamma made a sign to me with her eyes, and under cover of - a lively waltz we slipped out of the drawing-room. In the hall the - servants, who were passing to and fro, drew aside to let us go by them, - but I felt that their eyes were fixed upon me with the curiosity which had - pursued me since the morning. The large door giving on to the park was - open, although the night was cool, and in the shadow I could make out - groups of country folk gathered there to catch a glimpse of the - festivities through the windows. These good people were laughing and - whispering; they were silent for a moment as we advanced to ascend the - staircase, but I once more felt that I was the mark of these inquisitive - looks and the object of all these smiles. The face of mamma, who - accompanied me, was much flushed, and large tears were flowing from her - eyes. - </p> - <p> - How was it that an event so gay for some was so sad for others? - </p> - <p> - When I think over it now I can hardly keep my countenance. What silly - terrors at that frightful yet charming moment! Yet, after all, one - exaggerates things a great deal. - </p> - <p> - On reaching the first floor mamma stopped, choking, took my head in her - hands, and kissed me on the forehead, and exclaimed, “Valentine!” I was - not greatly moved by this outburst, knowing that mamma, since she has - grown a little too stout, has some difficulty in getting upstairs. I - judged, therefore, that the wish to take breath for a moment without - appearing to do so had something to do with this sudden halt. - </p> - <p> - We entered the nuptial chamber; it was as coquettish as possible, - refreshing to the eye, snug, elegant, and adorned with fine Louis XVI - furniture, upholstered in Beauvais tapestry. The bed, above all, was a - marvel of elegance, but to tell the truth I had no idea of it till a week - later. At the outside it seemed to me that I was entering an - austere-looking locality; the very air we breathed appeared to me to have - something solemn and awe-striking about it. - </p> - <p> - “Here is your room, child,” said mamma; “but first of all come and sit - here beside me, my dear girl.” - </p> - <p> - At these words we both burst into tears, and mamma then expressed herself - as follows: - </p> - <p> - “The kiss you are giving me, Valentine, is the last kiss that I shall have - from you as a girl. Your husband—for Georges is that now—” - </p> - <p> - At these words I shuddered slightly, and by a singular freak of my brain - pictured to myself Monsieur Georges—Georges—my husband—in - a cotton night cap and a dressing-gown. The vision flashed across my mind - in the midst of the storm. I saw him just as plainly as if he had been - there. It was dreadful. The nightcap came over his forehead, down to his - eyebrows, and he said to me, pressing my hand; “At last, Valentine; you - are mine; do you love me? oh! tell me, do you love me?” And as his head - moved as he uttered these words, the horrible tuft at the end of his - nightcap waggled as an accompaniment. - </p> - <p> - “No,” I said to myself, “it is impossible for my husband to appear in such - a fashion; let me banish this image—and yet my father wears the - hideous things, and my brother, who is quite young, has them already. Men - wear them at all ages, unless though—” It is frightful to relate, - but Georges now appeared to me with a red-and-green bandanna handkerchief - tied round his head. I would have given ten years of my life to be two - hours older, and hurriedly passed my hand across my eyes to drive away - these diabolical visions. - </p> - <p> - However, mamma, who had been still speaking all the time, attributing this - movement to the emotion caused by her words, said, with great sweetness: - </p> - <p> - “Do not be alarmed, my dear Valentine; perhaps I am painting the picture - in too gloomy colors; but my experience and my love render this duty - incumbent upon me.” - </p> - <p> - I have never heard mamma express herself so fluently. I was all the more - surprised as, not having heard a word of what she had already said, this - sentence seemed suddenly sprung upon me. Not knowing what to answer, I - threw myself into the arms of mamma, who, after a minute or so, put me - away gently, saying, “You are suffocating me, dear.” - </p> - <p> - She wiped her eyes with her little cambric handkerchief, which was damp, - and said, smilingly: - </p> - <p> - “Now that I have told you what my conscience imposed on me, I am strong. - See, dear, I think that I can smile. Your husband, my dear child, is a man - full of delicacy. Have confidence; accept all without misgiving.” - </p> - <p> - Mamma kissed me on the forehead, which finished off her sentence, and - added: - </p> - <p> - “Now, dear one, I have fulfilled a duty I regarded as sacred. Come here - and let me take your wreath off.” - </p> - <p> - “By this time,” I thought, “they have noticed that I have left the - drawing-room. They are saying, ‘Where is the bride?’ and smiling, - ‘Monsieur Georges is getting uneasy. What is he doing? what is he - thinking? where is he?’” - </p> - <p> - “Have you tried on your nightcap, dear?” said mamma, who had recovered - herself; “it looks rather small to me, but is nicely embroidered. Oh, it - is lovely!” - </p> - <p> - And she examined it from every point of view. - </p> - <p> - At that moment there was a knock at the door. “It is I,” said several - voices, among which I distinguished the flute-like tones of my aunt Laura, - and those of my godmother. Madame de P., who never misses a chance of - pressing her two thick lips to some one’s cheeks, accompanied them. Their - eyes glittered, and all three had a sly and triumphant look, ferreting and - inquisitive, which greatly intimidated me. Would they also set about - fulfilling a sacred duty? - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you are really too pretty, my angel!” said Madame de P., kissing me - on the forehead, after the moist fashion peculiar to her, and then sitting - down in the large Louis XVI armchair. - </p> - <p> - My maid had not been allowed to undress me, so that all of them, taking - off their gloves, set to work to render me this service. They tangled the - laces, caught their own lace in the hooks, and laughed heartily all the - while. - </p> - <p> - “It is the least that the oldest friend of the family,”—she loved to - speak of herself as such—“should make herself useful at such a - moment,” muttered Madame de P., holding her eyeglass in one hand and - working with the other. - </p> - <p> - I passed into a little boudoir to complete my toilette for the night, and - found on the marble of the dressing-table five or six bottles of scent, - tied up with red, white, and blue ribbons—an act of attention on the - part of my Aunt Laura. I felt the blood flying to my head; there was an - unbearable singing in my ears. Now that I can coolly weigh the impressions - I underwent, I can tell that what I felt above all was anger. I would have - liked to be in the farthest depths of the wildest forest in America, so - unseemly did I find this curious kindness which haunted me with its - attentions. I should have liked to converse a little with myself, to - fathom my own emotion somewhat, and, in short, to utter a brief prayer - before throwing myself into the torrent. - </p> - <p> - However, through the open door, I could hear the four ladies whispering - together and stifling their outbursts of laughter; I had never seen them - so gay. I made up my mind. I crossed the room, and, shaking off the pretty - little white slippers which my mother had embroidered for me, jumped into - bed. I was not long in finding out that it was no longer my own narrow - little bed. It was immense, and I hesitated a moment, not knowing which - way to turn. I felt nevertheless a feeling of physical comfort. The bed - was warm, and I do not know what scent rose from its silken coverlet. I - felt myself sink into the mass of feathers, the pillows, twice over too - large and trimmed with embroidery, gave way as it were beneath me, burying - me in a soft and perfumed abyss. - </p> - <p> - At length the ladies rose, and after giving a glance round the room, - doubtless to make sure that nothing was lacking, approached the bed. - </p> - <p> - “Good-night, my dear girl,” said my mother, bending over me. - </p> - <p> - She kissed me, carried her handkerchief, now reduced to a wet dab, to her - eyes, and went out with a certain precipitation. - </p> - <p> - “Remember that the old friend of the family kissed you on this night, my - love,” said Madame de P., as she moistened my forehead. - </p> - <p> - “Come, my little lamb, good-night and sleep well,” said my aunt, with her - smile that seemed to issue from her nose. She added in a whisper: “You - love him, don’t you? The slyboots! she won’t answer! Well, since you love - him so much, don’t tell him so, my dear. But I must leave you; you are - sleepy. Goodnight.” - </p> - <p> - And she went away, smiling. - </p> - <p> - At length I was alone. I listened; the doors were being closed, I heard a - carriage roll along the road; the flame of the two candles placed upon the - mantelshelf quivered silently and were reflected in the looking-glass. - </p> - <p> - I thought about the ceremony of that morning, the dinner, the ball. I said - to myself, clenching my fists to concentrate my thoughts: “How was Marie - dressed? She was dressed in—dressed in—dressed in—” I - repeated the words aloud to impart more authority to them and oblige my - mind to reply; but do what I would, it was impossible for me to drive away - the thought that invaded my whole being. - </p> - <p> - “He is coming. What is he doing? Where is he? Perhaps he is on the stairs - now. How shall I receive him when he comes?” - </p> - <p> - I loved him; oh! with my whole soul, I can acknowledge it now; but I loved - him quite at the bottom of my heart. In order to think of him I went down - into the very lowest chamber of my heart, bolted the door, and crouched - down in the darkest corner. - </p> - <p> - At last, at a certain moment, the floor creaked, a door was opened in the - passage with a thousand precautions, and I heard the tread of a boot—a - boot! - </p> - <p> - The boot ceased to creak, and I heard quite close to me, on the other side - of the wall, which was nothing but a thin partition, an armchair being - rolled across the carpet, and then a little cough, which seemed to me to - vibrate with emotion. It was he! But for the partition I could have - touched him with my finger. A few moments later I could distinguish the - almost imperceptible sound of footsteps on the carpet; this faint sound - rang violently in my head. All at once my breathing and my heart both - stopped together; there was a tap at the door. The tapping was discreet, - full of entreaty and delicacy. I wanted to reply, “Come in,” but I had no - longer any voice; and, besides, was it becoming to answer like that, so - curtly and plainly? I thought “Come in” would sound horribly unseemly, and - I said nothing. There was another tap. I should really have preferred the - door to have been broken open with a hatchet or for him to have come down - the chimney. In my agony I coughed faintly among my sheets. That was - enough; the door opened, and I divined from the alteration in the light - shed by the candles that some one at whom I did not dare look was - interposing between them and myself. - </p> - <p> - This some one, who seemed to glide across the carpet, drew near the bed, - and I could distinguish out of the corner of my eye his shadow on the - wall. I could scarcely restrain my joy; my Captain wore neither cotton - nightcap nor bandanna handkerchief. That was indeed something. However, in - this shadow which represented him in profile, his nose had so much - importance that amid all my uneasiness a smile flitted across my lips. Is - it not strange how all these little details recur to your mind? I did not - dare turn round, but I devoured with my eyes this shadow representing my - husband; I tried to trace in it the slightest of his gestures; I even - sought the varying expressions of his physiognomy, but, alas! in vain. - </p> - <p> - I do not know how to express in words all that I felt at that moment; my - pen seems too clumsy to write my sensations, and, besides, did I really - see deep into my heart? - </p> - <p> - Do men comprehend all this? Do they understand that the heart requires - gradual changes, and that if a half-light awakens, a noon-day blaze - dazzles and burns? It is not that the poor child, who is trembling in a - corner, refuses to learn; far from that, she has aptitude, good-will, and - a quick and ready intelligence; she knows she has reached the age at which - it is necessary to know how to read; she rejects neither the science nor - even the teacher. It is the method of instruction that makes her uneasy. - She is afraid lest this young professor, whose knowledge is so extensive, - should turn over the pages of the book too quickly and neglect the A B C. - </p> - <p> - A few hours back he was the submissive, humble lover, ready to kneel down - before her, hiding his knowledge as one hides a sin, speaking his own - language with a thousand circumspections. At any moment it might have been - thought that he was going to blush. She was a queen, he a child; and now - all at once the roles are changed; it is the submissive subject who - arrives in the college cap of a professor, hiding under his arm an unknown - and mysterious book. Is the man in the college cap about to command, to - smile, to obtrude himself and his books, to speak Latin, to deliver a - lecture? - </p> - <p> - She does not know that this learned individual is trembling, too; that he - is greatly embarrassed over his opening lesson, that emotion has caused - him to forget his Latin, that his throat is parched and his legs are - trembling beneath him. She does not know this, and I tell you between - ourselves, it is not her self-esteem that suffers least at this - conjecture. She suffers at finding herself, after so many signatures, - contracts, and ceremonies-still a charming child, and nothing more. - </p> - <p> - I believe that the first step in conjugal life will, according to the - circumstances accompanying it, give birth to captivating sympathies or - invincible repulsion. But to give birth to these sympathies, to strike the - spark that is to set light to this explosion of infinite gratitude and - joyful love—what art, what tact, what delicacy, and at the same time - what presence of mind are needed. - </p> - <p> - How was it that at the first word Georges uttered my terrors vanished? His - voice was so firm and so sweet, he asked me so gayly for leave to draw - near the fire and warm his feet, and spoke to me with such ease and - animation of the incidents of the day. I said to myself, “It is impossible - for the least baseness to be hidden under all this.” In presence of so - much good-humor and affability my scaffolding fell to pieces. I ventured a - look from beneath the sheets: I saw him comfortably installed in the big - armchair, and I bit my lips. I am still at a loss to understand this - little fit of ill-temper. When one is reckoning on a fright, one is really - disappointed at its delaying itself. Never had Georges been more witty, - more affectionate, more well-bred; he was still the man of the day before. - He must really have been very excited. - </p> - <p> - “You are tired out, I am certain, darling,” he said. - </p> - <p> - The word “darling” made me start, but did not frighten me; it was the - first time he had called me so, but I really could not refuse him the - privilege of speaking thus. However it may be, I maintained my reserve, - and in the same tone as one replies, “No thanks, I don’t take tea,” I - answered: - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes! I am worn out.” - </p> - <p> - “I thought so,” he added, approaching the bed; “you can not keep your eyes - open; you can not even look at me, my dear little wife.” - </p> - <p> - “I will leave you,” continued he. “I will leave you; you need repose.” And - he drew still more closely to me, which was not natural. Then, stretching - out his hand, which I knew was white and well cared for: “Won’t you give - me a little shake of the hand, dear? I am half asleep, too, my pretty - little wife.” His face wore an expression which was alarming, though not - without its charm; as he said this, I saw clearly that he had lied to me - like a demon, and that he was no more sleepy than I was. - </p> - <p> - However that may be, I was guilty of the fault, the carelessness that - causes disaster, of letting him take my hand, which was straying by chance - under the lace of the pillows. - </p> - <p> - I was that evening in a special condition of nervous sensibility, for at - this contact a strange sensation ran through me from head to foot. It was - not that the Captain’s hand had the softness of satin—I believe that - physical sensations, in us women, have causes directly contrary to those - which move men; for that which caused me such lively emotion was precisely - its firmness. There was something strong, manly, and powerful about it. He - squeezed my hand rather strongly. - </p> - <p> - My rings, which I have a fancy for wearing all at once, hurt me, and—I - really should not have believed it—I liked it very much, perhaps too - much. For the first time I found an inexplicable, an almost intoxicating, - charm in this intimate contact with a being who could have crushed me - between his fingers, and that in the middle of the night too, in silence, - without any possibility of help. It was horribly delicious. - </p> - <p> - I did not withdraw my hand, which he kissed, but lingeringly. The clock - struck two, and the last sound had long since died away when his lips were - still there, quivering with rapid little movements, which were so many - imperceptible kisses, moist, warm, burning. I felt gleams of fire flashing - around me. I wished to draw away my hand, but could not; I remember - perfectly well that I could not. His moustache pricked me, and whiffs of - the scent with which he perfumed it reached me and completed my trouble. I - felt my nostrils dilating despite myself, and, striving but in vain to - take refuge in my inmost being, I exclaimed inwardly: “Protect me, Lord, - but this time with all your might. A drop of water, Lord; a drop of - water!” I waited—no appreciable succor reached from above. It was - not till a week afterward that I understood the intentions of Providence. - </p> - <p> - “You told me you were sleepy,” I murmured, in a trembling voice. I was - like a shipwrecked person clutching at a floating match-box; I knew quite - well that the Captain would not go away. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I was sleepy, pet,” said Georges, approaching his face to mine; “but - now I am athirst.” He put his lips to my ear and whispered softly, - “Athirst for a kiss from you, love.” - </p> - <p> - This “love” was the beginning of another life. The spouse now appeared, - the past was fleeing away, I was entering on the future. At length I had - crossed the frontier; I was in a foreign land. Oh! I acknowledge—for - what is the use of feigning?—that I craved for this love, and I felt - that it engrossed me and spread itself through me. I felt that I was - getting out of my depth, I let go the last branch that held me to the - shore, and to myself I repeated: “Yes, I love you; yes, I am willing to - follow you; yes, I am yours, love, love, love!” - </p> - <p> - “Won’t you kiss your husband; come, won’t you?” - </p> - <p> - And his mouth was so near my own that it seemed to meet my lips. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said I. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - ............................. -</pre> - <p> - August 7th, 185-How many times have I not read through you during the last - two years, my little blue note-book! How many things I might add as - marginal notes if you were not doomed to the flames, to light my first - fire this autumn! How could I have written all this, and how is it that - having done so I have not dared to complete my confidences! No one has - seen you, at any rate; no one has turned your pages. Go back into your - drawer, dear, with, pending the first autumn fire, a kiss from your - Valentine. - </p> - <p> - NOTE.—Owing to what circumstances this blue note-book, doomed to the - flames, was discovered by me in an old Louis XVI chiffonnier I had just - bought does not greatly matter to you, dear reader, and would be out of my - power to explain even if it did. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIV. THE BLUE NOTE-BOOK AGAIN - </h2> - <p> - Only to think that I was going to throw you into the fire, poor dear! Was - I not foolish? In whom else could I confide? If I had not you, to whom - could I tell all those little things at which every one laughs, but which - make you cry! - </p> - <p> - This evening, for instance, I dined alone, for Georges was invited out; - well, to whom else can I acknowledge that when I found myself alone, face - to face with a leg of mutton, cooked to his liking, and with the large - carving-knife which is usually beside his plate, before me, I began to cry - like a child? To whom else can I admit that I drank out of the Bohemian - wine-glass he prefers, to console me a little? - </p> - <p> - But if I were to mention this they would laugh in my face. Father Cyprien - himself, who nevertheless has a heart running over with kindness, would - say to me: - </p> - <p> - “Let us pass that by, my dear child; let us pass that by.” - </p> - <p> - I know him so well, Father Cyprien; while you, you always listen to me, my - poor little note-book; if a tear escapes me, you kindly absorb it and - retain its trace like a good-hearted friend. Hence I love you. - </p> - <p> - And, since we are tete-a-tete, let us have a chat. You won’t be angry with - me for writing with a pencil, dear. You see I am very comfortably settled - in my big by-by and I do not want to have any ink-stains. The fire - sparkles on the hearth, the street is silent; let us forget that George - will not return till midnight, and turn back to the past. - </p> - <p> - I can not recall the first month of that dear past without laughing and - weeping at one and the same time. - </p> - <p> - How foolish we were! How sweet it was! There is a method of teaching - swimming which is not the least successful, I am told. It consists in - throwing the future swimmer into the water and praying God to help him. I - am assured that after the first lesson he keeps himself afloat. - </p> - <p> - Well, I think that we women are taught to be wives in very much the same - fashion. - </p> - <p> - Happy or otherwise—the point is open to discussion marriage is a - hurricane—something unheard-of and alarming. - </p> - <p> - In a single night, and without any transition, everything is transformed - and changes color; the erst while-cravatted, freshly curled, carefully - dressed gentleman makes his appearance in a dressing-gown. That which was - prohibited becomes permissible, the code is altered, and words acquire a - meaning they never had before, et cetera, et cetera. - </p> - <p> - It is not that all this is so alarming, if taken the right way—a - woman with some courage in her heart and some flexibility in her mind - supports the shock and does not die under it; but the firmest of us are - amazed at it, and stand open-mouthed amid all these strange novelties, - like a penniless gourmand in the shop of Potel and Chabot. - </p> - <p> - They dare not touch these delicacies surrounding them, though invited to - taste. It is not that the wish or the appetite is lacking to them, but all - these fine fruits have been offered them so lately that they have still - the somewhat acid charm of green apples or forbidden fruit. They approach, - but they hesitate to bite. - </p> - <p> - After all, why complain? What would one have to remember if one had - entered married life like an inn, if one had not trembled a little when - knocking at the door? And it is so pleasant to recall things, that one - would sometimes like to deck the future in the garments of the past. - </p> - <p> - It was, I recollect, two days after the all-important one. I had gone into - his room, I no longer remember why—for the pleasure of going in, I - suppose, and thereby acting as a wife. A strong desire is that which - springs up in your brain after leaving church to look like an old married - woman. You put on caps with ribbons, you never lay aside your cashmere - shawl, you talk of “my home”—two sweet words—and then you bite - your lips to keep from breaking out into a laugh; and “my husband,” and - “my maid,” and the first dinner you order, when you forget the soup. All - this is charming, and, however ill at ease you may feel at first in all - these new clothes, you are quite eager to put them on. - </p> - <p> - So I had gone into the dressing-room of my husband, who, standing before - the glass, very lightly clad, was prosaically shaving. - </p> - <p> - “Excuse me, dear,” said he, laughing, and he held up his shaving-brush, - covered with white lather. “You will pardon my going on with this. Do you - want anything?” - </p> - <p> - “I came, on the contrary,” I answered, “to see whether you had need of - anything;” and, greatly embarrassed myself, for I was afraid of being - indiscreet, and I was not sure whether one ought to go into one’s - husband’s room like this, I added, innocently, “Your shirts have buttons, - have they not?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, what a good little housewife I have married! Do not bother yourself - about such trifles, my pet. I will ask your maid to look after my - buttons,” said he. - </p> - <p> - I felt confused; I was afraid of appealing too much of a schoolgirl in his - eyes. He went on working his soap into a lather with his shaving-brush. I - wanted to go away, but I was interested in such a novel fashion by the - sight of my husband, that I had not courage to do so. His neck was bare—a - thick, strong neck, but very white and changing its shape at every - movement—the muscles, you know. It would have been horrible in a - woman, that neck, and yet it did not seem ugly to me. Nor was it - admiration that thus inspired me; it was rather like gluttony. I wanted to - touch it. His hair, cut very short—according to regulation—grew - very low, and between its beginning and the ear there was quite a smooth - white place. The idea at once occurred to me that if ever I became brave - enough, it was there that I should kiss him oftenest; it was strange, that - presentiment, for it is in fact on that little spot that I— - </p> - <p> - He stopped short. I fancied I understood that he was afraid of appearing - comical in my eyes, with his face smothered in lather; but he was wrong. I - felt myself all in a quiver at being beside a man—the word man is - rather distasteful to me, but I can not find another, for husband would - not express my thoughts—at being beside a man in the making of his - toilette. I should have liked him to go on without troubling himself; I - should have liked to see how he managed to shave himself without - encroaching on his moustache, how he made his parting and brushed his hair - with the two round brushes I saw on the table, what use he made of all the - little instruments set out in order on the marble-tweezers, scissors, tiny - combs, little pots and bottles with silver tops, and a whole arsenal of - bright things, that aroused quite a desire to beautify one’s self. - </p> - <p> - I should have liked him while talking to attend to the nails of his hands, - which I was already very fond of; or, better still, to have handed them - over to me. How I should have rummaged in the little corners, cut, filed, - arranged all that. - </p> - <p> - “Well, dear, what are you looking at me like that for?” said he, smiling. - </p> - <p> - I lowered my eyes at once, and felt that I was blushing. I was uneasy, - although charmed, amid these new surroundings. I did not know what to - answer, and mechanically I dipped the tip of my finger into the little - china pot in which the soap was being lathered. - </p> - <p> - “What is the matter, darling?” said he, approaching his face to mine; - “have I offended you?” - </p> - <p> - I don’t know what strange idea darted through my mind, but I suddenly took - my hand from the pot and stuck the big ball of lather at the end of my - finger on the tip of his nose. He broke out into a hearty laugh, and so - did I; though I trembled for a moment, lest he should be angry. - </p> - <p> - “So that’s the way in which you behave to a captain in the lancers? You - shall pay for this, you wicked little darling;” and, taking the shaving - brush in his hand, he chased me round the room. I dodged round the table, - I took refuge behind the armchair, upsetting his boots with my skirt, - getting the tongs at the same time entangled in it. Passing the sofa, I - noticed his uniform laid out—he had to wait on the General that - morning—and, seizing his schapska, I made use of it as a buckler. - But laughter paralyzed me, and besides, what could a poor little woman do - against a soldier, even with a buckler? - </p> - <p> - He ended by catching me—the struggle was a lovely one. It was all - very well for me to scream, as I threw my head backward over the arm by - which he clasped me; I none the less saw the frightful brush, like a big - snowball, at the end of a little stick, come nearer and yet nearer. - </p> - <p> - But he was merciful; he was satisfied with daubing a little white spot on - my chin and exclaiming, “The cavalry have avenged themselves.” - </p> - <p> - Seizing the brush in turn, I said to him roguishly, “Captain, let me - lather your face,” for I did so want to do that. - </p> - <p> - In answer, he held his face toward me, and, observing that I was obliged - to stand on the tips of my toes and to support myself a little on his - shoulder, he knelt down before me and yielded his head to me. - </p> - <p> - With the tip of my finger I made him bend his face to the right and the - left, backward and forward, and I lathered and lathered, giggling like a - schoolgirl. It amused me so to see my Captain obey me like a child; I - would have given I don’t know what if he had only had his sword and spurs - on at that moment. Unfortunately, he was in his slippers. I spread the - lather over his nose and forehead; he closed his eyes and put his two arms - round me, saying: - </p> - <p> - “Go on, my dear, go on; but see that you don’t put any into my mouth.” - </p> - <p> - At that moment I experienced a very strange feeling. My laughter died away - all at once; I felt ashamed at seeing my husband at my feet and at thus - amusing myself with him as if he were a doll. - </p> - <p> - I dropped the shaving-brush; I felt my eyes grow moist; and, suddenly, - becoming more tender, I bent toward him and kissed him on the neck, which - was the only spot left clear. - </p> - <p> - Yet his ear was so near that, in passing it, my lips moved almost in spite - of myself, and I whispered: - </p> - <p> - “Don’t be angry, dear,” then, overcome by emotion and repentance, I added: - “I love you, I do love you.” - </p> - <p> - “My own pet!” he said, rising suddenly. His voice shook. - </p> - <p> - What delightful moments these were! Unfortunately, oh! yes, indeed, - unfortunately, he could not press his lathered face to mine! - </p> - <p> - “Wait a little,” he exclaimed, darting toward the washbasin, full of - water, “wait an instant!” - </p> - <p> - But it seemed as if it took him a week to wash it off. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XV. MY WIFE GOES TO A DANCE - </h2> - <p> - Madame—Ah! it is so nice of you to come home early! (Looking at the - clock.) A quarter to six. But how cold you are! your hands are frozen; - come and sit by the fire. (She puts a log on the fire.) I have been - thinking of you all day. It is cruel to have to go out in such weather. - Have you finished your doubts? are you satisfied? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Quite well satisfied, dear. (Aside.) But I have never known - my wife to be so amiable. (Aloud, taking up the bellows.) Quite well - satisfied, and I am very hungry. Has my darling been good? - </p> - <p> - Madame—You are hungry. Good! (Calling out.) Marie, call into the - kitchen that your master wants to dine early. Let them look after - everything—and send up a lemon. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—A mystery? - </p> - <p> - Madame—Yes, Monsieur, I have a little surprise for you, and I fancy - that it will delight you. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Well, what is the surprise? - </p> - <p> - Madame—Oh! it is a real surprise. How curious you look! your eyes - are glittering already. Suppose I were not to tell you anything? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Then you would vex me very much. - </p> - <p> - Madame—There, I don’t want to vex you. You are going to have some - little green oysters and a partridge. Am I good? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Oysters and a partridge! You are an angel. (He kisses her.) - An angel. (Aside.) What on earth is the matter with her? (Aloud.) Have you - had visitors to-day? - </p> - <p> - Madame—I saw Ernestine this morning, but she only stayed a moment. - She has just discharged her maid. Would you believe it, that girl was seen - the night before last dressed up as a man, and in her master’s clothes, - too! That was going too far. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—That comes of having confidential servants. And you just - got a sight of Ernestine? - </p> - <p> - Madame—And that was quite enough, too. (With an exclamation.) How - stupid I am! I forgot. I had a visit from Madame de Lyr as well. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—God bless her! But does she still laugh on one side of her - mouth to hide her black tooth? - </p> - <p> - Madame-How cruel you are! Yet, she likes you very well. Poor woman! I was - really touched by her visit. She came to remind me that we—now you - will be angry. (She kisses him and sits down beside him.) - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Be angry! be angry! I’m not a Turk. Come, what is it? - </p> - <p> - Madame—Come, we shall go to dinner. You know that there are oysters - and a partridge. I won’t tell you—you are already in a bad temper. - Besides, I all but told her that we are not going. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—(raising his hands aloft)—I thought so. She and her - evening may go to the dogs. What have I done to this woman that she should - so pester me? - </p> - <p> - Madame—But she thinks she is affording you pleasure. She is a - charming friend. As for me, I like her because she always speaks well of - you. If you had been hidden in that cabinet during her visit, you could - not have helped blushing. (He shrugs his shoulders.) “Your husband is so - amiable,” she said to me, “so cheery, so witty. Try to bring him; it is an - honor to have him.” I said, “Certainly,” but without meaning it, you know. - But I don’t care about it at all. It is not so very amusing at Madame de - Lyr’s. She always invites such a number of serious people. No doubt they - are influential people, and may prove useful, but what does that matter to - me? Come to dinner. You know that there is a bottle left of that famous - Pomard; I have kept it for your partridge. You can not imagine what - pleasure I feel in seeing you eat a partridge. You eat it with such a - gusto. You are a glutton, my dear. (She takes his arm.) Come, I can hear - your rascal of a son getting impatient in the dining-room. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—(with a preoccupied air)—Hum! and when is it? - </p> - <p> - Madame—When is what? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—The party, of course. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Ah! you mean the ball—I was not thinking of it. Madame - de Lyr’s ball. Why do you ask me that, since we are not going? Let us make - haste, dinner is getting cold.... This evening. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—(stopping short)—What! this party is a ball, and this - ball is for this evening. But, hang it! people don’t invite you to a ball - like that. They always give notice some time beforehand. - </p> - <p> - Madame—But she sent us an invitation a week ago, though I don’t know - what became of the card. I forgot to show it to you. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—You forgot! you forgot! - </p> - <p> - Madame—Well, it is all for the best; I know you would have been - sulky all the week after. Come to dinner. - </p> - <p> - They sat down to table. The cloth was white, the cutlery bright, the - oysters fresh; the partridge, cooked to perfection, exhaled a delightful - odor. Madame was charming, and laughed at everything. Monsieur unbent his - brows and stretched himself on the chair. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—This Pomard is very good. Won’t you have some, little dear? - </p> - <p> - Madame—Yes, your little dear will. (She pushes forward her glass - with a coquettish movement.) - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Ah! you have put on your Louis Seize ring. It is a very - pretty ring. - </p> - <p> - Madame—(putting her hand under her husband’s nose)—Yes; but - look—see, there is a little bit coming off. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—(kissing his wife’s hand)—Where is the little bit? - </p> - <p> - Madame—(smiling)—You jest at everything. I am speaking - seriously. There—look—it is plain enough! (They draw near once - another and bend their heads together to see it.) Don’t you see it? (She - points out a spot on the ring with a rosy and slender finger.) There! do - you see now—there? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—That little pearl which—What on earth have you been - putting on your hair, my dear? It smells very nice—You must send it - to the jeweller. The scent is exquisite. Curls don’t become you badly. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Do you think so? (She adjusts her coiffure with her white - hand.) I thought you would like that scent; now, if I were in your place I - should— - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—What would you do in my place, dear? - </p> - <p> - Madame—I should—kiss my wife. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—(kissing her)—Well, I must say you have very bright - ideas sometimes. Give me a little bit more partridge, please. (With his - mouth full.) How pretty these poor little creatures look when running - among the corn. You know the cry they give when the sun sets?—A - little gravy.—There are moments when the poetic side of country life - appeals to one. And to think that there are barbarians who eat them with - cabbage. But (filling his glass) have you a gown ready? - </p> - <p> - Madame—(with innocent astonishment.)—What for, dear? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Why, for Madame de Lyr’s— - </p> - <p> - Madame—For the ball?—What a memory you have—There you - are still thinking of it—No, I have not—ah! yes, I have my - tarletan, you know; but then a woman needs so little to make up a - ball-room toilette. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—And the hairdresser, has he been sent for? - </p> - <p> - Madame—No, he has not been sent for; but I am not anxious to go to - this ball. We will settle down by the fireside, read a little, and go to - bed early. You remind me, however, that, on leaving, Madame de Lyr did - say, “Your hairdresser is the same as mine, I will send him word.” How - stupid I am; I remember now that I did not answer her. But it is not far, - I can send Marie to tell him not to come. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Since this blessed hairdresser has been told, let him come - and we will go and—amuse ourselves a little at Madame de Lyr’s. But - on one condition only; that I find all my dress things laid out in - readiness on my bed with my gloves, you know, and that you tie my necktie. - </p> - <p> - Madame—A bargain. (She kisses him.) You are a jewel of a husband. I - am delighted, my poor dear, because I see you are imposing a sacrifice - upon yourself in order to please me; since, as to the ball itself, I am - quite indifferent about it. I did not care to go; really now I don’t care - to go. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Hum. Well, I will go and smoke a cigar so as not to be in - your way, and at ten o’clock I will be back here. Your preparations will - be over and in five minutes I shall be dressed. Adieu. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Au revoir. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur, after reaching the street, lit his cigar and buttoned up his - great-coat. Two hours to kill. It seems a trifle when one is busy, but - when one has nothing to do it is quite another thing. The pavement is - slippery, rain is beginning to fall—fortunately the Palais Royal is - not far off. At the end of his fourteenth tour round the arcades, Monsieur - looks at his watch. Five minutes to ten, he will be late. He rushes home. - </p> - <p> - In the courtyard the carriage is standing waiting. - </p> - <p> - In the bedroom two unshaded lamps shed floods of light. Mountains of - muslin and ribbons are piled on the bed and the furniture. Dresses, - skirts, petticoats, and underpetticoats, lace, scarfs, flowers, jewels, - are mingled in a charming chaos. On the table there are pots of pomade, - sticks of cosmetic, hairpins, combs and brushes, all carefully set out. - Two artificial plaits stretch themselves languishingly upon a dark mass - not unlike a large handful of horsehair. A golden hair net, combs of pale - tortoise-shell and bright coral, clusters of roses, sprays of white lilac, - bouquets of pale violets, await the choice of the artist or the caprice of - the beauty. And yet, must I say it? amidst this luxury of wealth Madame’s - hair is undressed, Madame is uneasy, Madame is furious. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—(looking at his watch)—Well, my dear, is your hair - dressed? - </p> - <p> - Madame—(impatiently)—He asks me whether my hair is dressed? - Don’t you see that I have been waiting for the hairdresser for an hour and - a half? Can’t you see that I am furious, for he won’t come, the horrid - wretch? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—The monster! - </p> - <p> - Madame—Yes, the monster; and I would advise you not to joke about - it. - </p> - <p> - There is a ring. The door opens and the lady’s-maid exclaims, “It is he, - Madame!” - </p> - <p> - Madame—It is he! - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—It is he! - </p> - <p> - The artist enters hurriedly and bows while turning his sleeves up. - </p> - <p> - Madame—My dear Silvani, this is unbearable. - </p> - <p> - Silvani—Very sorry, very, but could not come any sooner. I have been - dressing hair since three o’clock in the afternoon. I have just left the - Duchesse de W., who is going to the Ministry this evening. She sent me - home in her brougham. Lisette, give me your mistress’s combs, and put the - curling-tongs in the fire. - </p> - <p> - Madame—But, my dear Silvani, my maid’s name is not Lisette. - </p> - <p> - Silvani—You will understand, Madame, that if I had to remember the - names of all the lady’s-maids who help me, I should need six clerks - instead of four. Lisette is a pretty name which suits all these young - ladies very well. Lisette, show me your mistress’s dress. Good. Is the - ball an official one? - </p> - <p> - Madame—But dress my hair, Silvani. - </p> - <p> - Silvani—It is impossible for me to dress your hair, Madame, unless I - know the circle in which the coiffure will be worn. (To the husband, - seated in the corner.) May I beg you, Monsieur, to take another place? I - wish to be able to step back, the better to judge the effect. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Certainly, Monsieur Silvani, only too happy to be agreeable - to you. (He sits down on a chair.) - </p> - <p> - Madame—(hastily)—Not there, my dear, you will rumple my skirt. - (The husband gets up and looks for another seat.) Take care behind you, - you are stepping on my bustle. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—(turning round angrily)—Her bustle! her bustle! - </p> - <p> - Madame—Now you go upsetting my pins. - </p> - <p> - Silvani—May I beg a moment of immobility, Madame? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Come, calm yourself, I will go into the drawing-room; is - there a fire there? - </p> - <p> - Madame—(inattentively)—But, my dear, how can you expect a fire - to be in the drawing-room? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—I will go to my study, then. - </p> - <p> - Madame—There is none there, either. What do you want a fire in your - study for? What a singular idea! High up, you know, Silvani, and a dash of - disorder, it is all the rage. - </p> - <p> - Silvani—Would you allow a touch of brown under the eyes? That would - enable me to idealize the coiffure. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—(impatiently)—Marie, give me my top-coat and my cap. - I will walk up and down in the anteroom. (Aside.) Madame de Lyr shall pay - for this. - </p> - <p> - Silvani—(crimping)—I leave your ear uncovered, Madame; it - would be a sin to veil it. It is like that of the Princesse de K., whose - hair I dressed yesterday. Lisette, get the powder ready. Ears like yours, - Madame, are not numerous. - </p> - <p> - Madame—You were saying— - </p> - <p> - Silvani—Would your ear, Madame, be so modest as not to listen? - </p> - <p> - Madame’s hair is at length dressed. Silvani sheds a light cloud of scented - powder over his work, on which he casts a lingering look of satisfaction, - then bows and retires. - </p> - <p> - In passing through the anteroom, he runs against Monsieur, who is walking - up and down. - </p> - <p> - Silvani—A thousand pardons, I have the honor to wish you good night. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—(from the depths of his turned-up collar) Good-night. - </p> - <p> - A quarter of an hour later the sound of a carriage is heard. Madame is - ready, her coiffure suits her, she smiles at herself in the glass as she - slips the glove-stretchers into the twelve-button gloves. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur has made a failure of his necktie and broken off three buttons. - Traces of decided ill-humor are stamped on his features. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Come, let us go down, the carriage is waiting; it is a - quarter past eleven. (Aside.) Another sleepless night. Sharp, coachman; - Rue de la Pepiniere, number 224. - </p> - <p> - They reach the street in question. The Rue de la Pepiniere is in a tumult. - Policemen are hurriedly making way through the crowd. In the distance, - confused cries and a rapidly approaching, rumbling sound are heard. - Monsieur thrusts his head out of the window. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—What is it, Jean? - </p> - <p> - Coachman—A fire, Monsieur; here come the firemen. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Go on all the same to number 224. - </p> - <p> - Coachman—We are there, Monsieur; the fire is at number 224. - </p> - <p> - Doorkeeper of the House—(quitting a group of people and approaching - the carriage)—You are, I presume, Monsieur, one of the guests of - Madame de Lyr? She is terror-stricken; the fire is in her rooms. She can - not receive any one. - </p> - <p> - Madame—(excitedly)—It is scandalous. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—(humming)—Heart-breaking, heartbreaking! (To the - coachman.) Home again, quickly; I am all but asleep. (He stretches himself - out and turns up his collar.) ( Aside.) After all, I am the better for a - well-cooked partridge. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVI. A FALSE ALARM - </h2> - <p> - Every time I visit Paris, which, unhappily, is too often, it rains in - torrents. It makes no difference whether I change the time of starting - from that which I had fixed upon at first, stop on the way, travel at - night, resort, in short, to a thousand devices to deceive the barometer-at - ten leagues from Paris the clouds begin to pile up and I get out of the - train amidst a general deluge. - </p> - <p> - On the occasion of my last visit I found myself as usual in the street, - followed by a street porter carrying my luggage and addressing despairing - signals to all the cabs trotting quickly past amid the driving rain. After - ten minutes of futile efforts a driver, more sensible than the others, and - hidden in his triple cape, checks his horses. With a single bound I am - beside the cab, and opening, the door with a kind of frenzy, jump in. - </p> - <p> - Unfortunately, while I am accomplishing all this on one side, a gentleman, - similarly circumstanced, opens the other door and also jumps in. It is - easy to understand that there ensues a collision. - </p> - <p> - “Devil take you!” said my rival, apparently inclined to push still farther - forward. - </p> - <p> - I was about to answer him, and pretty sharply, too, for I hail from the - south of France and am rather hotheaded, when our eyes met. We looked one - another in the face like two lions over a single sheep, and suddenly we - both burst out laughing. This angry gentleman was Oscar V., that dear good - fellow Oscar, whom I had not seen for ten years, and who is a very old - friend of mine, a charming fellow whom I used to play with as a boy. - </p> - <p> - We embraced, and the driver, who was looking at us through the window, - shrugged his shoulders, unable to understand it all. The two porters, - dripping with water, stood, one at each door, with a trunk on his - shoulder. We had the luggage put on the cab and drove off to the Hotel du - Louvre, where Oscar insisted on dropping me. - </p> - <p> - “But you are travelling, too, then?” said I to my friend, after the first - moments of expansion. “Don’t you live in Paris?” - </p> - <p> - “I live in it as little as possible and have just come up from Les Roches, - an old-fashioned little place I inherited from my father, at which I pass - a great deal of the year. Oh! it is not a chateau; it is rustic, - countrified, but I like it, and would not change anything about it. The - country around is fresh and green, a clear little river flows past about - forty yards from the house, amid the trees; there is a mill in the - background, a spreading valley, a steeple and its weather-cock on the - horizon, flowers under the windows, and happiness in the house. Can I - grumble? My wife makes exquisite pastry, which is very agreeable to me and - helps to whiten her hands. By the way, I did not tell you that I am - married. My dear fellow, I came across an angel, and I rightly thought - that if I let her slip I should not find her equal. I did wisely. But I - want to introduce you to my wife and to show you my little place. When - will you come and see me? It is three hours from Paris—time to smoke - a couple of cigars. It is settled, then—I am going back to-morrow - morning and I will have a room ready for you. Give me your card and I will - write down my address on it.” - </p> - <p> - All this was said so cordially that I could not resist my friend’s - invitation, and promised to visit him. - </p> - <p> - Three or four days later, Paris being empty and the recollection of my old - companion haunting me, I felt a strong desire to take a peep at his - conjugal felicity and to see with my own eyes this stream, this mill, this - steeple, beside all which he was so happy. - </p> - <p> - I reached Les Roches at about six in the evening and was charmed at the - very first glance. Oscar’s residence was a little Louis Quinze chateau - buried in the trees; irregularly built, but charmingly picturesque. It had - been left unaltered for a century at least, and everything, from the - blackened mansard roofs with their rococo weather-cocks, to the bay - windows with their tiny squares of glass and the fantastic escutcheon over - the door, was in keeping. Over the thick tiles of the somewhat sunken - roof, the rough-barked old chestnuts lazily stretched their branches. - Creepers and climbing roses wantoned over the front, framing the windows, - peeping into the garrets, and clinging to the waterspouts, laden with - large bunches of flowers which swayed gently in the air. Amid all these - pointed roofs and this profusion of verdure and trees the blue sky could - only be caught a glimpse of here and there. - </p> - <p> - The first person I saw was Oscar, clad in white from head to foot, and - wearing a straw hat. He was seated on an enormous block of stone which - seemed part and parcel of the house, and appeared very much interested in - a fine melon which his gardener had just brought to him. No sooner had he - caught sight of me than he darted forward and grasped me by the hand with - such an expression of good-humor and affection that I said to myself, - “Yes, certainly he was not deceiving me, he is happy.” I found him just as - I had known him in his youth, lively, rather wild, but kind and obliging. - </p> - <p> - “Pierre,” said he to the gardener, “take this gentleman’s portmanteau to - the lower room,” and, as the gardener bestirred himself slowly and with an - effort, Oscar seized the portmanteau and swung it, with a jerk, on to the - shoulders of the poor fellow, whose legs bent under the weight. - </p> - <p> - “Lazybones,” said Oscar, laughing heartily. “Ah! now I must introduce you - to my little queen. My wife, where is my wife?” - </p> - <p> - He ran to the bell and pulled it twice. At once a fat cook with a red face - and tucked-up sleeves, and behind her a man-servant wiping a plate, - appeared at the ground-floor windows. Had they been chosen on purpose? I - do not know, but their faces and bearing harmonized so thoroughly with the - picture that I could not help smiling. - </p> - <p> - “Where is your mistress?” asked Oscar, and as they did not answer quickly - enough he exclaimed, “Marie, Marie, here is my friend George.” - </p> - <p> - A young girl, fair as a lily, appeared at a narrow, little window, the one - most garlanded by, flowers, on the first floor. She was clad in a white - dressing-gown of some particular shape; I could not at first make out. - With one hand she gathered its folds about her, and with the other - restrained her flowing hair. Hardly had she seen me when she blushed, - somewhat ashamed, no doubt, at having been surprised in the midst of her - toilet, and, giving a most embarrassed yet charming bow; hurriedly - disappeared. This vision completed the charm; it seemed to me that I had - suddenly been transported into fairy-land. I had fancied when strapping my - portmanteau that I should find my friend Oscar installed in one of those - pretty, little, smart-looking houses, with green shutters and gilt - lightning-conductor, dear to the countrified Parisian, and here I found - myself amid an ideal blending of time-worn stones hidden in flowers, - ancient gables, and fanciful ironwork reddened by rust. I was right in the - midst of one of Morin’s sketches, and, charmed and stupefied, I stood for - some moments with my eyes fixed on the narrow window at which the fair - girl had disappeared. - </p> - <p> - “I call her my little queen,” said Oscar, taking my arm. “It is my wife. - Come this way, we shall meet my cousin who is fishing, and two other - friends who are strolling about in this direction, good fellows, only they - do not understand the country as I do—they have on silk stockings - and pumps, but it does not matter, does it? Would you like a pair of - slippers or a straw hat? - </p> - <p> - “I hope you have brought some linen jackets. I won’t offer you a glass of - Madeira—we shall dine at once. Ah! my dear fellow, you have turned - up at the right moment; we are going to taste the first melon of the year - this evening.” - </p> - <p> - “Unfortunately, I never eat melons, though I like to see others do so.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then, I will offer you consolation by seeking out a bottle of my - old Pomard for you. Between ourselves, I don’t give it to every one; it is - a capital wine which my poor father recommended to me on his deathbed; - poor father, his eyes were closed, and his head stretched back on the - pillow. I was sitting beside his bed, my hand in his, when I felt it - feebly pressed. His eyes half opened, and I saw him smile. Then he said in - a weak, slow, and the quavering voice of an old man who is dying: ‘The - Pomard at the farther end—on the left—you know, my boy—only - for friends.’ He pressed my hand again, and, as if exhausted, closed his - eyes, though I could see by the imperceptible motion of his lips that he - was still smiling inwardly. Come with me to the cellar,” continued Oscar, - after a brief silence, “at the farther end to the left, you shall hold the - lantern for me.” - </p> - <p> - When we came up from the cellar, the bell was ringing furiously, and - flocks of startled birds were flying out of the chestnut-trees. It was for - dinner. All the guests were in the garden. Oscar introduced me in his - off-hand way, and I offered my arm to the mistress of the house to conduct - her to the dining-room. - </p> - <p> - On examining my friend’s wife, I saw that my first impression had not been - erroneous—she was literally a little angel, and a little angel in - the shape of a woman, which is all the better. She was delicate, slender - as a young girl; her voice was as thrilling and harmonious as the - chaffinch, with an indefinable accent that smacked of no part of the - country in particular, but lent a charm to her slightest word. She had, - moreover, a way of speaking of her own, a childish and coquettish way of - modulating the ends of her sentences and turning her eyes toward her - husband, as if to seek for his approbation. She blushed every moment, but - at the same time her smile was so bewitching and her teeth so white that - she seemed to be laughing at herself. A charming little woman! Add to this - a strange yet tasteful toilette, rather daring, perhaps, but suiting this - little queen, so singular in herself. Her beautiful fair hair, twisted up - apparently at hazard, was fixed rather high up on the head by a steel comb - worn somewhat on one side; and her white muslin dress trimmed with wide, - flat ruches, cut square at the neck, short in the skirt, and looped up all - round, had a delicious eighteenth-century appearance. The angel was - certainly a trifle coquettish, but in her own way, and yet her way was - exquisite. - </p> - <p> - Hardly were we seated at table when Oscar threw toward his little queen a - rapid glance, but one so full of happiness and-why should I not say it?—love - that I experienced a kind of shiver, a thrill of envy, astonishment, and - admiration, perhaps. He took from the basket of flowers on the table a red - rose, scarcely opened, and, pushing it toward her, said with a smile: - </p> - <p> - “For your hair, Madame.” - </p> - <p> - The fair girl blushed deeply, took the flower, and, without hesitation, - quickly and dexterously stuck it in her hair, high up on the left, just in - the right spot, and, delightedly turning round to each of us, repeated - several times, amid bursts of laughter, “Is it right like that?” - </p> - <p> - Then she wafted a tiny kiss with the tips of her fingers to her husband, - as a child of twelve would have done, and gayly plunged her spoon into the - soup, turning up her little finger as she did so. - </p> - <p> - The other guests had nothing very remarkable about them; they laughed very - good-naturedly at these childish ways, but seemed somewhat out of place - amid all this charming freedom from restraint. The cousin, above all, the - angler, with his white waistcoat, his blue tie, his full beard, and his - almond eyes, especially displeased me. He rolled his r’s like an actor at - a country theatre. He broke his bread into little bits and nibbled them as - he talked. I divined that the pleasure of showing off a large ring he wore - had something to do with this fancy for playing with his bread. Once or - twice I caught a glance of melancholy turned toward the mistress of the - house, but at first I did not take much notice of it, my attention being - attracted by the brilliant gayety of Oscar. - </p> - <p> - It seemed to me, however, at the end of a minute or so, that this young - man was striving in a thousand ways to engage the attention of the little - queen. - </p> - <p> - The latter, however, answered him in the most natural way in the world, - neither betraying constraint nor embarrassment. I was mistaken, no doubt. - Have you ever noticed, when you are suddenly brought into the midst of a - circle where you are unacquainted, how certain little details, matters of - indifference to every one else, assume importance in your eyes? The first - impression is based upon a number of trifles that catch your attention at - the outset. A stain in the ceiling, a nail in the wall, a feature of your - neighbor’s countenance impresses itself upon your mind, installs itself - there, assumes importance, and, in spite of yourself, all the other - observations subsequently made by you group around this spot, this nail, - this grimace. Think over it, dear reader, and you will see that every - opinion you may have as to a fact, a person, or an object has been - sensibly influenced by the recollection of the little trifle that caught - your eye at the first glance. What young girl victim of first impressions - has not refused one or two husbands on account of a waistcoat too loose, a - cravat badly tied, an inopportune sneeze, a foolish smile, or a boot too - pointed at the toe? - </p> - <p> - One does not like admitting to one’s self that such trifles can serve as a - base to the opinion one has of any one, and one must seek attentively in - order to discover within one’s mind these unacknowledged germs. - </p> - <p> - I recollect quite well that the first time I had the honor of calling on - Madame de M., I noticed that one of her teeth, the first molar on the - right, was quite black. I only caught a glimpse of the little black - monster, such was the care taken to hide it, yet I could not get this - discovery out of my head. I soon noticed that Madame de M. made frightful - grimaces to hide her tooth, and that she took only the smallest possible - mouthfuls at table to spare the nervous susceptibilities of the little - monster. - </p> - <p> - I arrived at the pitch of accounting for all the mental and physical - peculiarities of Madame de M. by the presence of this slight blemish, and - despite myself this black tooth personified the Countess so well that even - now, although it has been replaced by another magnificent one, twice as - big and as white as the bottom of a plate, even now, I say, Madame de M. - can not open her mouth without my looking naturally at it. - </p> - <p> - But to return to our subject. Amid all this conjugal happiness, so - delightfully surrounded, face to face with dear old Oscar, so good, so - confiding, so much in love with this little cherub in a Louis XV dress, - who carried grace and naivete to so strange a pitch, I had been struck by - the too well combed and foppish head of the cousin in the white waistcoat. - This head had attracted my attention like the stain on the ceiling of - which I spoke just now, like the Countess’s black tooth, and despite - myself I did not take my eyes off the angler as he passed the silver blade - of his knife through a slice of that indigestible fruit which I like to - see on the plates of others, but can not tolerate on my own. - </p> - <p> - After dinner, which lasted a very long time, we went into the garden, - where coffee had been served, and stretched ourselves out beatifically, - cigar in mouth. All was calm and silent about us, the insects had ceased - their music, and in an opaline sky little violet clouds were sleeping. - </p> - <p> - Oscar, with a happy air, pointed out to me the famous mill, the quiet - valley, and farther on his loved stream, in which the sun, before setting, - was reflecting itself amid the reeds. Meanwhile the little queen on her - high heels flitted round the cups like a child playing at party-giving, - and with a thousand charming touches poured out the boiling coffee, the - odor of which blended deliciously with the perfume of the flowers, the - hay, and the woods. - </p> - <p> - When she had finished she sat down beside her husband, so close that her - skirt half hid my friend, and unceremoniously taking the cigar from his - lips, held it at a distance, with a little pout, that meant, “Oh, the - horrid thing!” and knocked off with her little finger the ash which fell - on the gravel. Then she broke into a laugh, and put the cigar back between - the lips of her husband held out to her. - </p> - <p> - It was charming. Oscar was no doubt accustomed to this, for he did not - seem astonished, but placed his hand on his wife’s shoulder, as one would - upon a child’s, and, kissing her on the forehead, said, “Thanks, my dear.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but you are only making fun of me,” said the young wife, in a - whisper, leaning her head against her husband’s arm. - </p> - <p> - I could not help smiling, there was so much coaxing childishness and grace - in this little whispered sentence. I do not know why I turned toward the - cousin who had remained a little apart, smoking in silence. He seemed to - me rather pale; he took three or four sudden puffs, rose suddenly under - the evident influence of some moral discomfort, and walked away beneath - the trees. - </p> - <p> - “What is the matter with cousin?” said Oscar, with some interest. “What - ails him?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know,” answered the little queen, in the most natural manner in - the world, “some idea about fishing, no doubt.” - </p> - <p> - Night began to fall; we had remained as I have said a long time at table. - It was about nine o’clock. The cousin returned and took the seat he had - occupied before, but from this moment it seemed to me that a strange - constraint crept in among us, a singular coolness showed itself. The talk, - so lively at first, slackened gradually and, despite all my efforts to - impart a little life to it, dragged wretchedly. I myself did not feel very - bright; I was haunted by the most absurd notions in the world; I thought I - had detected in the sudden departure of the cousin, in his pallor, in his - embarrassed movements, the expression of some strong feeling which he had - been powerless to hide. But how was it that that adorable little woman - with such a keen intelligent look did not understand all this, since I - understood it myself? Had not Oscar, however confiding he might be, noted - that the departure of the cousin exactly coincided with the kiss he had - given his wife? Were these two blind, or did they pretend not to see, or - was I myself the victim of an illusion? However, conversation had died - away; the mistress of the house, singular symptom, was silent and serious, - and Oscar wriggled in his chair, like a man who is not altogether at ease. - What was passing in their minds? - </p> - <p> - Soon we heard the clock in the drawing-room strike ten, and Oscar, - suddenly rising, said: “My dear fellow, in the country it is Liberty Hall, - you know; so I will ask your permission to go in—I am rather tired - this evening. George,” he added to me, “they will show you your room; it - is on the ground floor; I hope that you will be comfortable there.” - </p> - <p> - Everybody got up silently, and, after bidding one another good-night in a - somewhat constrained manner, sought their respective rooms. I thought, I - must acknowledge, that they went to bed rather too early at my friend’s. I - had no wish to sleep; I therefore examined my room, which was charming. It - was completely hung with an old figured tapestry framed in gray wainscot. - The bed, draped in dimity curtains, was turned down and exhaled that odor - of freshly washed linen which invites one to stretch one’s self in it. On - the table, a little gem dating from the beginning of the reign of Louis - XVI, were four or five books, evidently chosen by Oscar and placed there - for me. These little attentions touch one, and naturally my thoughts - recurred to the dear fellow, to the strange incident of the evening, to - the vexations and tortures hidden, perhaps, by this apparent happiness. I - was ridiculous that night—I already pitied him, my poor friend. - </p> - <p> - I felt quite touched, and, full of melancholy, went and leaned against the - sill of the open window. The moon had just risen, the sky was beautifully - clear, whiffs of delicious perfumes assailed my nostrils. I saw in the - shadow of the trees glowworms sparkling on the grass, and, in the masses - of verdure lit up mysteriously by the moon, I traced strange shapes of - fantastic monsters. There was, above all, a little pointed roof surmounted - by a weathercock, buried in the trees at about fifty paces from my window, - which greatly interested me. I could not in the obscurity make out either - door or windows belonging to this singular tower. Was it an old - pigeon-house, a tomb, a deserted summer-house? I could not tell, but its - little pointed roof, with a round dormer window, was extremely graceful. - Was it chance or an artist lull of taste that had covered this tower with - creepers and flowers, and surrounded it with foliage in such capricious - fashion that it seemed to be hiding itself in order to catch all glances? - I was gazing at all this when I heard a faint noise in the shrubbery. I - looked in that direction and I saw—really, it was an anxious moment—I - saw a phantom clad in a white robe and walking with mysterious and - agitated rapidity. At a turning of the path the moon shone on this - phantom. Doubt was impossible; I had before my eyes my friend’s wife. Her - gait no longer had that coquettish ease which I had noticed, but clearly - indicated the agitation due to some strong emotion. - </p> - <p> - I strove to banish the horrible suspicion which suddenly forced itself - into my mind. “No,” I said to myself, “so much innocence and beauty can - not be capable of deception; no doubt she has forgotten her fan or her - embroidery, on one of the benches there.” But instead of making her way - toward the benches I noticed on the right, the young wife turned to the - left, and soon disappeared in the shadow of the grove in which was hidden - the mysterious turret. - </p> - <p> - My heart ached. “Where is she going, the hapless woman?” I exclaimed to - myself. “At any rate, I will not let her imagine any one is watching her.” - And I hurriedly blew out my candle. I wanted to close my window, go to - bed, and see nothing more, but an invincible curiosity took me back to the - window. I had only been there a few minutes when I plainly distinguished - halting and timid footsteps on the gravel. I could see no one at first, - but there was no doubt that the footsteps were those of a man. I soon had - a proof that I was not mistaken; the elongated outline of the cousin - showed up clearly against the dark mass of shrubbery. I should have liked - to have stopped him, the wretch, for his intention was evident; he was - making his way toward the thicket in which the little queen had - disappeared. I should have liked to shout to him, “You are a villain; you - shall go no farther.” But had I really any right to act thus? I was - silent, but I coughed, however, loud enough to be heard by him. - </p> - <p> - He suddenly paused in his uneasy walk, looked round on all sides with - visible anxiety, then, seized by I know not what impulse, darted toward - the pavilion. I was overwhelmed. What ought I to do? Warn my friend, my - childhood’s companion? Yes, no doubt, but I felt ashamed to pour despair - into the mind of this good fellow and to cause a horrible exposure. “If he - can be kept in ignorance,” I said to myself, “and then perhaps I am wrong—who - knows? Perhaps this rendezvous is due to the most natural motive - possible.” - </p> - <p> - I was seeking to deceive myself, to veil the evidence of my own eyes, when - suddenly one of the house doors opened noisily, and Oscar—Oscar - himself, in all the disorder of night attire, his hair rumpled, and his - dressing-gown floating loosely, passed before my window. He ran rather - than walked; but the anguish of his heart was too plainly revealed in the - strangeness of his movements. He knew all. I felt that a mishap was - inevitable. “Behold the outcome of all his happiness, behold the bitter - poison enclosed in so fair a vessel!” All these thoughts shot through my - mind like arrows. It was necessary above all to delay the explosion, were - it only for a moment, a second, and, beside myself, without giving myself - time to think of what I was going to say to him, I cried in a sharp - imperative tone: - </p> - <p> - “Oscar, come here; I want to speak to you.” - </p> - <p> - He stopped as if petrified. He was ghastly pale, and, with an infernal - smile, replied, “I have no time-later on.” - </p> - <p> - “Oscar, you must, I beg of you—you are mistaken.” - </p> - <p> - At these words he broke into a fearful laugh. - </p> - <p> - “Mistaken—mistaken!” - </p> - <p> - And he ran toward the pavilion. - </p> - <p> - Seizing the skirt of his dressing-gown, I held him tightly, exclaiming: - </p> - <p> - “Don’t go, my dear fellow, don’t go; I beg of you on my knees not to go.” - </p> - <p> - By way of reply he gave me a hard blow on the arm with his fist, - exclaiming: - </p> - <p> - “What the devil is the matter with you?” - </p> - <p> - “I tell you that you can not go there, Oscar,” I said, in a voice which - admitted of no contradiction. - </p> - <p> - “Then why did not you tell me at once.” - </p> - <p> - And feverishly snatching his dressing-gown from my grasp, he began to walk - frantically up and down. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVII. I SUP WITH MY WIFE - </h2> - <p> - That evening, which chanced to be Christmas Eve, it was infernally cold. - The snow was falling in heavy flakes, and, driven by the wind, beat - furiously against the window panes. The distant chiming of the bells could - just be heard through this heavy and woolly atmosphere. Foot-passengers, - wrapped in their cloaks, slipped rapidly along, keeping close to the house - and bending their heads to the wintry blast. - </p> - <p> - Enveloped in my dressing-gown, and tapping with my fingers on the - window-panes, I was smiling at the half-frozen passers-by, the north wind, - and the snow, with the contented look of a man who is in a warm room and - has on his feet comfortable flannel-lined slippers, the soles of which are - buried in a thick carpet. At the fireside my wife was cutting out - something and smiling at me from time to time; a new book awaited me on - the mantelpiece, and the log on the hearth kept shooting out with a - hissing sound those little blue flames which invite one to poke it. - </p> - <p> - “There is nothing that looks more dismal than a man tramping through the - snow, is there?” said I to my wife. - </p> - <p> - “Hush,” said she, lowering the scissors which she held in her hand; and, - after smoothing her chin with her fingers, slender, rosy, and plump at - their tips, she went on examining the pieces of stuff she had cut out. - </p> - <p> - “I say that it is ridiculous to go out in the cold when it is so easy to - remain at home at one’s own fireside.” - </p> - <p> - “Hush.” - </p> - <p> - “But what are you doing that is so important?” - </p> - <p> - “I—I am cutting out a pair of braces for you,” and she set to work - again. But, as in cutting out she kept her head bent, I noticed, on - passing behind her, her soft, white neck, which she had left bare that - evening by dressing her hair higher than usual. A number of little downy - hairs were curling there. This kind of down made me think of those ripe - peaches one bites so greedily. I drew near, the better to see, and I - kissed the back of my wife’s neck. - </p> - <p> - “Monsieur!” said Louise, suddenly turning round. - </p> - <p> - “Madame,” I replied, and we both burst out laughing. - </p> - <p> - “Christmas Eve,” said I. - </p> - <p> - “Do you wish to excuse yourself and to go out?” - </p> - <p> - “Do you mean to complain?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I complain that you are not sufficiently impressed by the fact of - its being Christmas Eve. The ding-ding-dong of the bells of Notre Dame - fails to move you; and just now when the magic-lantern passed beneath the - window, I looked at you while pretending to work, and you were quite - calm.” - </p> - <p> - “I remain calm when the magic-lantern is going by! Ah! my dear, you are - very severe on me, and really—” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, jest about it, but it was none the less true that the - recollections of your childhood have failed.” - </p> - <p> - “Now, my dear, do you want me to leave my boots out on the hearth this - evening on going to bed? Do you want me to call in the magic-lantern man, - and to look out a big sheet and a candle end for him, as my poor mother - used to do? I can still see her as she used to entrust her white sheet to - him. ‘Don’t make a hole in it, at least,’ she would say. How we used to - clap our hands in the mysterious darkness! I can recall all those joys, my - dear, but you know so many other things have happened since then. Other - pleasures have effaced those.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I can understand, your bachelor pleasures; and, there, I am sure - that this Christmas Eve is the first you have passed by your own fireside, - in your dressing-gown, without supper; for you used to sup on Christmas - Eve.” - </p> - <p> - “To sup, to sup.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, you supped; I will wager you did.” - </p> - <p> - “I have supped two or three times, perhaps, with friends, you know; two - sous’ worth of roasted chestnuts and—” - </p> - <p> - “A glass of sugar and water.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, pretty nearly so. It was all very simple; as far as I can recollect. - We chatted a little and went to bed.” - </p> - <p> - “And he says that without a smile. You have never breathed a word to me of - all these simple pleasures.” - </p> - <p> - “But, my dear, all that I am telling you is strictly true. I remember that - once, however, it was rather lively. It was at Ernest’s, and we had some - music. Will you push that log toward me? But, never mind; it will soon be - midnight, and that is the hour when reasonable people—” - </p> - <p> - Louise, rising and throwing her arms around my neck, interrupted me with: - “Well, I don’t want to be reasonable, I want to wipe out all your memories - of chestnuts and glasses of sugar and water.” - </p> - <p> - Then pushing me into my dressing-room she locked the door. - </p> - <p> - “But, my dear, what is the matter with you?” said I through the keyhole. - </p> - <p> - “I want ten minutes, no more. Your newspaper is on the mantelpiece; you - have not read it this evening. There are some matches in the corner.” - </p> - <p> - I heard a clatter of crockery, a rustling of silk my wife mad? - </p> - <p> - Louise soon came and opened the door. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t scold me for having shut you up,” she said, kissing me. “Look how I - have beautified myself? Do you recognize the coiffure you are so fond of, - the chignon high, and the neck bare? Only as my poor neck is excessively - timid, it would have never consented to show itself thus if I had not - encouraged it a little by wearing my dress low. And then one must put on - full uniform to sup with the authorities.” - </p> - <p> - “To sup?” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly, to sup with you; don’t you see my illuminations and this table - covered with flowers and a heap of good things? I had got it all ready in - the alcove; but you understand that to roll the table up to the fire and - make a little toilette, I wanted to be alone. Come, Monsieur, take your - place at table. I am as hungry as a hunter. May I offer you a wing of cold - chicken?” - </p> - <p> - “Your idea is charming, but, dear, really I am ashamed; I am in my - dressing-gown.” - </p> - <p> - “Take off your dressing-gown if it incommodes you, Monsieur, but don’t - leave this chicken wing on my hands. I want to serve you myself.” And, - rising, she turned her sleeves up to the elbow, and placed her table - napkin on her arm. - </p> - <p> - “It is thus that the waiters at the restaurant do it, is it not?” - </p> - <p> - “Exactly; but, waiter, allow me at least to kiss your hand.” - </p> - <p> - “I have no time,” said she, laughing, sticking the corkscrew into the neck - of the bottle. “Chambertin—it is a pretty name; and then do you - remember that before our marriage (how hard this cork is!) you told me - that you liked it on account of a poem by Alfred de Musset? which, by the - way, you have not let me read yet. Do you see the two little Bohemian - glasses which I bought expressly for this evening? We will drink each - other’s health in them.” - </p> - <p> - “And his, too, eh?” - </p> - <p> - “The heir’s, poor dear love of an heir! I should think so. And then I will - put away the two glasses against this time next year; they shall be our - Christmas Eve glasses? Every year we will sup like this together, however - old we may get.” - </p> - <p> - “But, my dear, how about the time when we have no longer any teeth?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, we will sup on good strong soups; it will be very nice, all the - same. Another piece, please, with some of the jelly. Thanks.” - </p> - <p> - As she held out her plate I noticed her arm, the outline of which was lost - in lace. - </p> - <p> - “Why are you looking up my sleeve instead of eating?” - </p> - <p> - “I am looking at your arm, dear. You are charming, let me tell you, this - evening. That coiffure suits you so well, and that dress which I was - unacquainted with.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, when one seeks to make a conquest—” - </p> - <p> - “How pretty you look, pet!” - </p> - <p> - “Is it true that you think me charming, pretty, and a pet this evening? - Well, then,” lowering her eyes and smiling at her bracelets, “in that case - I do not see why—” - </p> - <p> - “What is it you do not see, dear?” - </p> - <p> - “I do not see any reason why you should not come and give me just a little - kiss.” - </p> - <p> - And as the kiss was prolonged, she said to me, amid bursts of laughter, - her head thrown back, and showing the double row of her white teeth: “I - should like some pie; yes, some brie! You will break my Bohemian glass, - the result of my economy. You always cause some mishap when you want to - kiss me. Do you recollect at Madame de Brill’s ball, two days before our - marriage, how you tore my skirt while waltzing in the little - drawing-room?” - </p> - <p> - “Because it is difficult to do two things at once-to keep step and to kiss - one’s partner.” - </p> - <p> - “I recollect, too, when mamma asked how my skirt had got torn, I felt that - I was blushing up to my ears. And Madame D., that old jaundiced fairy, who - said to me with her Lenten smile, ‘How flushed you are tonight, my dear - child!’ I could have strangled her! I said it was the key of the door that - had caught it. I looked at you out of the corner of my eye; you were - pulling your moustache and seemed greatly annoyed—you are keeping - all the truffles for yourself; that is kind—not that one; I want the - big black one there in the corner-it was very wrong all the same, for—oh! - not quite full—I do not want to be tipsy—for, after all, if we - had not been married—and that might have happened, for you know they - say that marriages only depend on a thread. Well, if the thread had not - been strong enough, I should have remained a maid with a kiss on my - shoulder, and a nice thing that would have been.” - </p> - <p> - “Bah! it does not stain.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Monsieur, it does, I beg your pardon. It stains so much that there - are husbands, I believe, who even shed their blood to wash out such little - stains.” - </p> - <p> - “But I was joking, dear. Hang it!—don’t you think—yes, - certainly, hang it!” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! that’s right, I like to see you angry. You are a trifle jealous, dear—oh! - that is too bad; I asked you for the big black one, and you have gone and - eaten it.” - </p> - <p> - “I am sorry, dear; I quite forgot about it.” - </p> - <p> - “It was the same at the Town Hall, where I was obliged to jog your elbow - to make you answer ‘Yes’ to the Mayor’s kind words.” - </p> - <p> - “Kind!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, kind. I thought him charming. No one could have been more graceful - than he was in addressing me. ‘Mademoiselle, will you consent to accept - for your husband that great, ugly fellow standing beside you?’” (Laughing, - with her mouth full.) “I wanted to say to him, ‘Let us come to an - understanding, Mr. Mayor; there is something to be said on either side.’ I - am choking!”—she bursts out laughing—“I was wrong not to - impose restrictions. Your health, dear! I am teasing you; it is very - stupid. I said ‘Yes’ with all my heart, I can assure you, dear, and I - thought the word too weak a one. When I think that all women, even the - worst, say that word, I feel ashamed not to have found another.” Holding - out her glass: “To our golden wedding—will you touch glasses?” - </p> - <p> - “And to his baptism, little mamma.” - </p> - <p> - In a low voice: “Tell me—are you sorry you married me?” - </p> - <p> - Laughing, “Yes.” Kissing her on the shoulder, “I think I have found the - stain again; it was just there.” - </p> - <p> - “It is two in the morning, the fire is out, and I am a little—you - won’t laugh now? Well, I am a little dizzy.” - </p> - <p> - “A capital pie, eh?” - </p> - <p> - “A capital pie! We shall have a cup of tea for breakfast tomorrow, shall - we not?” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVIII. FROM ONE THING TO ANOTHER - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - SCENE.—The country in autumn—The wind is blowing without—MADAME, - seated by the fireside in a large armchair, is engaged in needlework - —MONSIEUR, seated in front of her, is watching the flames of the - fire—A long silence. -</pre> - <p> - Monsieur—Will you pass me the poker, my dear? - </p> - <p> - Madame—(humming to herself)—“And yet despite so many fears.” - (Spoken.) Here is the poker. (Humming.) “Despite the painful——” - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—That is by Mehul, is it not, my dear? Ah! that is music—I - saw Delaunay Riquier in Joseph. (He hums as he makes up the fire.) “Holy - pains.” (Spoken.) One wonders why it does not burn, and, by Jove! it turns - out to be green wood. Only he was a little too robust—Riquier. A - charming voice, but he is too stout. - </p> - <p> - Madame—(holding her needlework at a distance, the better to judge of - the effect)—Tell me, George, would you have this square red or - black? You see, the square near the point. Tell me frankly. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—(singing) “If you can repent.” (Spoken without turning his - head.) Red, my dear; red. I should not hesitate; I hate black. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Yes, but if I make that red it will lead me to—(She - reflects.) - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Well, my dear, if it leads you away, you must hold fast to - something to save yourself. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Come, George, I am speaking seriously. You know that if this - little square is red, the point can not remain violet, and I would not - change that for anything. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—(slowly and seriously)—My dear, will you follow the - advice of an irreproachable individual, to whose existence you have linked - your fate? Well, make that square pea-green, and so no more about it. Just - look whether a coal fire ever looked like that. - </p> - <p> - Madame—I should only be too well pleased to use up my pea-green - wool; I have a quantity of it. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Then where lies the difficulty? - </p> - <p> - Madame—The difficulty is that pea-green is not sufficiently - religious. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Hum! (Humming.) Holy pains! (Spoken.) Will you be kind - enough to pass the bellows? Would it be indiscreet to ask why the poor - pea-green, which does not look very guilty, has such an evil reputation? - You are going in for religious needlework, then, my dear? - </p> - <p> - Madame—Oh, George! I beg of you to spare me your fun. I have been - familiar with it for a long time, you know, and it is horribly - disagreeable to me. I am simply making a little mat for the - confessional-box of the vicar. There! are you satisfied? You know what it - is for, and you must understand that under the present circumstances - pea-green would be altogether out of place. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Not the least in the world. I can swear to you that I could - just as well confess with pea-green under my feet. It is true that I am - naturally of a resolute disposition. Use up your wool; I can assure you - that the vicar will accept it all the same. He does not know how to - refuse. (He plies the bellows briskly.) - </p> - <p> - Madame—You are pleased, are you not? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Pleased at what, dear? - </p> - <p> - Madame—Pleased at having vented your sarcasm, at having passed a - jest on one who is absent. Well, I tell you that you are a bad man, seeing - that you seek to shake the faith of those about you. My beliefs had need - be very fervent, principles strong, and have real virtue, to resist these - incessant attacks. Well, why are you looking at me like that? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—I want to be converted, my little apostle. You are so - pretty when you speak out; your eyes glisten, your voice rings, your - gestures—I am sure that you could speak like that for a long time, - eh? (He kisses her hand, and takes two of her curls and ties them under - hey chin.) You are looking pretty, my pet. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Oh! you think you have reduced me to silence because you have - interrupted me. Ah! there, you have tangled my hair. How provoking you - are! It will take me an hour to put it right. You are not satisfied with - being a prodigy of impiety, but you must also tangle my hair. Come, hold - out your hands and take this skein of wool. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—(sitting down on a stool, which he draws as closely as - possible to Madame, and holding up his hands) My little Saint John! - </p> - <p> - Madame—Not so close, George; not so close. (She smiles despite - herself.) How silly you are! Please be careful; you will break my wool. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Your religious wool. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Yes, my religious wool. (She gives him a little pat on the - cheek.) Why do you part your hair so much on one side, George? It would - suit you much better in the middle, here. Yes, you may kiss me, but - gently. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Can you guess what I am thinking of? - </p> - <p> - Madame—How do you imagine I could guess that? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Well, I am thinking of the barometer which is falling and - of the thermometer which is falling too. - </p> - <p> - Madame—You see, cold weather is coming on and my mat will never be - finished. Come, let us make haste. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—I was thinking of the thermometer which is falling and of - my room which faces due north. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Did you not choose it yourself? My wool! Good gracious! my - wool! Oh! the wicked wretch! - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—In summer my room with the northern aspect is, no doubt, - very pleasant; but when autumn comes, when the wind creeps in, when the - rain trickles down the windowpanes, when the fields, the country, seem - hidden under a huge veil of sadness, when the spoils of our woodlands - strew the earth, when the groves have lost their mystery and the - nightingale her voice—oh! then the room with the northern aspect has - a very northern aspect, and— - </p> - <p> - Madame—(continuing to wind her wool)—What nonsense you are - talking! - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—I protest against autumns, that is all. God’s sun is hidden - and I seek another. Is not that natural, my little fairhaired saint, my - little mystic lamb, my little blessed palmbranch? This new sun I find in - you, pet—in your look, in the sweet odor of your person, in the - rustling of your skirt, in the down on your neck which one notices by the - lamp-light when you bend over the vicar’s mat, in your nostril which - expands when my lips approach yours— - </p> - <p> - Madame—Will you be quiet, George? It is Friday, and Ember week. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—And your dispensation? (He kisses her.) Don’t you see that - your hand shakes, that you blush, that your heart is beating? - </p> - <p> - Madame—George, will you have done, sir? (She pulls away her hand, - throws herself back in the chair, and avoids her husband’s glance.) - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Your poor little heart beats, and it is right, dear; it - knows that autumn is the time for confidential chats and evening caresses, - the time for kisses. And you know it too, for you defend yourself poorly, - and I defy you to look me in the face. Come! look me in the face. - </p> - <p> - Madame—(she suddenly leans toward hey husband, the ball of wool - rolling into the fireplace, the pious task falling to the ground. She - takes his head between her hands)—Oh, what a dear, charming husband - you would be if you had— - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—If I had what? Tell me quickly. - </p> - <p> - Madame—If you had a little religion. I should only ask for such a - little at the beginning. It is not very difficult, I can assure you. - While, now, you are really too— - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Pea-green, eh? - </p> - <p> - Madame—Yes, pea-green, you great goose. (She laughs frankly.) - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—(lifting his hands in the air)—Sound trumpets! Madame - has laughed; Madame is disarmed. Well, my snow-white lamb, I am going to - finish my story; listen properly, there, like that—your hands here, - my head so. Hush! don’t laugh. I am speaking seriously. As I was saying to - you, the north room is large but cold, poetic but gloomy, and I will add - that two are not too many in this wintry season to contend against the - rigors of the night. I will further remark that if the sacred ties of - marriage have a profoundly social significance, it is—do not - interrupt me—at that hour of one’s existence when one shivers on - one’s solitary couch. - </p> - <p> - Madame—You can not be serious. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Well, seriously, I should like the vicar’s mat piously - spread upon your bed, to keep us both warm together, this very evening. I - wish to return as speedily as possible to the intimacy of conjugal life. - Do you hear how the wind blows and whistles through the doors? The fire - splutters, and your feet are frozen. (He takes her foot in his hands.) - </p> - <p> - Madame—But you are taking off my slipper, George. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Do you think, my white lamb, that I am going to leave your - poor little foot in that state? Let it stay in my hand to be warmed. - Nothing is so cold as silk. What! openwork stockings? My dear, you are - rather dainty about your foot-gear for a Friday. Do you know, pet, you can - not imagine how gay I wake up when the morning sun shines into my room. - You shall see. I am no longer a man; I am a chaffinch; all the joys of - spring recur to me. I laugh, I sing, I speechify, I tell tales to make one - die of laughter. Sometimes I even dance. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Come now! I who in the morning like neither noise nor broad - daylight—how little all that suits! - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—(suddenly changing his tone)—Did I say that I liked - all that? The morning sun? Never in autumn, my sweet dove, never. I awake, - on the contrary full of languor and poesy; I was like that in my very - cradle. We will prolong the night, and behind the drawn curtain, behind - the closed shutter, we will remain asleep without sleeping. Buried in - silence and shadow, delightfully stretched beneath your warm eider-down - coverlets, we will slowly enjoy the happiness of being together, and we - will wish one another good-morning only on the stroke of noon. You do not - like noise, dear. I will not say a word. Not a murmur to disturb your - unfinished dream and warn you that you are no longer sleeping; not a - breath to recall you to reality; not a movement to rustle the coverings. I - will be silent as a shade, motionless as a statue; and if I kiss you—for, - after all, I have my weaknesses—it will be done with a thousand - precautions, my lips will scarcely brush your sleeping shoulder; and if - you quiver with pleasure as you stretch out your arms, if your eye half - uncloses at the murmur of my kiss, if your lips smile at me, if I kiss - you, it would be because you would like me to, and I shall have nothing to - reproach myself with. - </p> - <p> - Madame—(her eyes half closed, leaning back in hey armchair, her head - bent with emotion, she places her hands before his mouth. In a low voice)—Hush, - hush! Don’t say that, dear; not another word! If you knew how wrong it - was! - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Wrong! What is there that is wrong? Is your heart of marble - or adamant, that you do not see that I love you, you naughty child? That I - hold out my arms to you, that I long to clasp you to my heart, and to fall - asleep in your hair? What is there more sacred in the world than to love - one’s wife or love one’s husband? (Midnight strikes.) - </p> - <p> - Madame—(she suddenly changes hey expression at the sound, throws her - arms round her husband, and hurriedly kisses him thrice)—You thought - I did not love you, eh, dear? Oh, yes! I love you. Great baby! not to see - that I was waiting the time. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—What time, dear? - </p> - <p> - Madame—The time. It has struck twelve, see. (She blushes crimson.) - Friday is over. (She holds out her hand for him to kiss.) - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Are you sure the clock is not five minutes fast, love? - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIX. A LITTLE CHAT - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - MADAME F——-MADAME H——— - - (These ladies are seated at needlework as they talk.) -</pre> - <p> - Madame F—For myself, you know, my dear, I fulfil my duties - tolerably, still I am not what would be called a devotee. By no means. - Pass me your scissors. Thanks. - </p> - <p> - Madame H—You are quite welcome, dear. What a time those little - squares of lace must take. I am like yourself in respect of religion; in - the first place, I think that nothing should be overdone. Have you ever-I - have never spoken to any one on the subject, but I see your ideas are so - in accordance with my own that— - </p> - <p> - Madame F—Come, speak out, dear; you trust me a little, I hope. - </p> - <p> - Madame H—Well, then, have you—tell me truly—ever had any - doubts? - </p> - <p> - Madame F—(after reflecting for a moment)—Doubts! No. And you? - </p> - <p> - Madame H—I have had doubts, which has been a real grief to me. - Heavens! how I have wept. - </p> - <p> - Madame F—I should think so, my poor dear. For my own part, my faith - is very strong. These doubts must have made you very unhappy. - </p> - <p> - Madame H—Terribly so. You know, it seems as if everything failed - you; there is a vacancy all about you—I have never spoken about it - to my husband, of course—Leon is a jewel of a man, but he will not - listen to anything of that kind. I can still see him, the day after our - marriage; I was smoothing my hair—broad bands were then worn, you - know. - </p> - <p> - Madame F—Yes, yes; they were charming. You will see that we shall go - back to them. - </p> - <p> - Madame H—I should not be surprised; fashion is a wheel that turns. - Leon, then, said to me the day after our wedding: “My dear child, I shall - not hinder you going to church, but I beg you, for mercy’s sake, never to - say a word to me about it.” - </p> - <p> - Madame F—Really, Monsieur H. said that to you? - </p> - <p> - Madame H—Upon my honor. Oh! my husband is all that is most—or, - if you prefer it, all that is least— - </p> - <p> - Madame F—Yes, yes, I understand. That is a grief, you know. Mine is - only indifferent. From time to time he says some disagreeable things to me - on the question, but I am sure he could be very easily brought back to the - right. At the first illness he has, you shall see. When he has only a cold - in the head, I notice the change. You have not seen my thimble? - </p> - <p> - Madame H—Here it is. Do not be too sure of that, dear; men are not - to be brought back by going “chk, chk” to them, like little chickens. And - then, though I certainly greatly admire the men who observe religious - practices, you know me well enough not to doubt that—I think, as I - told you, that nothing should be exaggerated. And yourself, pet, should - you like to see your husband walking before the banner with a great wax - taper in his right hand and a bouquet of flowers in his left? - </p> - <p> - Madame F—Oh! no, indeed. Why not ask me at once whether I should - like to see Leon in a black silk skull cap, with cotton in his ears and a - holy water sprinkler in his hand? One has no need to go whining about a - church with one’s nose buried in a book to be a pious person; there is a - more elevated form of religion, which is that of—of refined people, - you know. - </p> - <p> - Madame H—Ah! when you speak like that, I am of your opinion. I - think, for instance, that there is nothing looks finer than a man while - the host is being elevated. Arms crossed, no book, head slightly bowed, - grave look, frock coat buttoned up. Have you seen Monsieur de P. at mass? - How well he looks! - </p> - <p> - Madame F—He is such a fine man, and, then, he dresses so well. Have - you seen him on horseback? Ah! so you have doubts; but tell me what they - are, seeing we are indulging in confidences. - </p> - <p> - Madame H—I can hardly tell you. Doubts, in short; about hell, for - instance, I have had horrible doubts. Oh! but do not let us speak about - that; I believe it is wrong even to think of it. - </p> - <p> - Madame F—I have very broad views on that point; I never think about - it. Besides, my late confessor helped me. “Do not seek too much,” he - always said to me, “do not try to understand that which is unfathomable.” - You did not know Father Gideon? He was a jewel of a confessor; I was - extremely pleased with him. Not too tedious, always discreet, and, above - all, well-bred. He turned monk from a romantic cause—a penitent was - madly in love with him. - </p> - <p> - Madame H—Impossible! - </p> - <p> - Madame F—Yes, really. What! did you not know about it? The success - of the monastery was due to that accident. Before the coming of Father - Gideon it vegetated, but on his coming the ladies soon flocked there in - crowds. They organized a little guild, entitled “The Ladies of the Agony.” - They prayed for the Chinese who had died without confession, and wore - little death’s heads in aluminum as sleeve-links. It became very - fashionable, as you are aware, and the good fathers organized, in turn, a - registry for men servants; and the result is that, from one thing leading - to another, the community has become extremely wealthy. I have even heard - that one of the most important railway stations in Paris is shortly to be - moved, so that the size of their garden can be increased, which is rather - restricted at present. - </p> - <p> - Madame H—As to that, it is natural enough that men should want a - place to walk in at home; but what I do not understand is that a woman, - however pious she may be, should fall in love with a priest. It is all - very well, but that is no longer piety; it is—fanaticism. I venerate - priests, I can say so truly, but after all I can not imagine myself—you - will laugh at me—ha, ha, ha! - </p> - <p> - Madame F—Not at all. Ha, ha, ha! what a child you are! - </p> - <p> - Madame H—(working with great briskness)—Well, I can not - imagine that they are men—like the others. - </p> - <p> - Madame F—(resuming work with equal ardor)—And yet, my dear, - people say they are. - </p> - <p> - Madame H—There are so many false reports set afloat. (A long - silence.) - </p> - <p> - Madame F—(in a discreet tone of voice)—After all, there are - priests who have beards—the Capuchins, for instance. - </p> - <p> - Madame H—Madame de V. has a beard right up to her eyes, so that - counts for nothing, dear. - </p> - <p> - Madame F—That counts for nothing. I do not think so. In the first - place, Madame de V.‘s beard is not a perennial beard; her niece told me - that she sheds her moustaches every autumn. What can a beard be that can - not stand the winter? A mere trifle. - </p> - <p> - Madame H—A mere trifle that is horribly ugly, my dear. - </p> - <p> - Madame F—Oh! if Madame de V. had only moustaches to frighten away - people, one might still look upon her without sorrow, but— - </p> - <p> - Madame H—I grant all that. Let us allow that the Countess’s - moustache and imperial are a nameless species of growth. I do not attach - much importance to the point, you understand. She has a chin of - heartbreaking fertility, that is all. - </p> - <p> - Madame F—To return to what we were saying, how is it that the men - who are strongest, most courageous, most manly—soldiers, in fact—are - precisely those who have most beard? - </p> - <p> - Madame H—That is nonsense, for then the pioneers would be braver - than the Generals; and, in any case, there is not in France, I am sure, a - General with as much beard as a Capuchin. You have never looked at a - Capuchin then? - </p> - <p> - Madame F—Oh, yes! I have looked at one quite close. It is a rather - funny story. Fancy Clementine’s cook having a brother a Capuchin—an - ex-jeweller, a very decent man. In consequence of misfortunes in business—it - was in 1848, business was at a stand-still—in short, he lost his - senses—no, he did not lose his senses, but he threw himself into the - arms of Heaven. - </p> - <p> - Madame H—Oh! I never knew that! When? Clementine— - </p> - <p> - Madame F—I was like you, I would not believe it, but one day - Clementine said to me: “Since you will not believe in my Capuchin, come - and see me tomorrow about three o’clock; he will be paying a visit to his - sister. Don’t have lunch first; we will lunch together.” Very good. I went - the next day with Louise, who absolutely insisted upon accompanying me, - and I found at Clementine’s five or six ladies installed in the - drawing-room and laughing like madcaps. They had all come to see the - Capuchin. “Well,” said I, as I went in, when they all began to make signs - to me and whisper, “Hush, hush!” He was in the kitchen. - </p> - <p> - Madame H—And what was he like? - </p> - <p> - Madame F—Oh! very nice, except his feet; you know how it always - gives one a chill to look at their feet; but, in short, he was very - amiable. He was sent for into the drawing-room, but he would not take - anything except a little biscuit and a glass of water, which took away our - appetites. He was very lively; told us that we were coquettes with our - little bonnets and our full skirts. He was very funny, always a little bit - of the jeweller at the bottom, but with plenty of good nature and - frankness. He imitated the buzzing of a fly for us; it was wonderful. He - also wanted to show us a little conjuring trick, but he needed two corks - for it, and unfortunately his sister could only find one. - </p> - <p> - Madame H—No matter, I can not understand Clementine engaging a - servant like that. - </p> - <p> - Madame F—Why? The brother is a guarantee. - </p> - <p> - Madame H—Of morality, I don’t say no; but it seems to me that a girl - like that can not be very discreet in her ways. - </p> - <p> - Madame F—How do you make that out? - </p> - <p> - Madame H—I don’t know, I can not reason the matter out, but it seems - to me that it must be so, that is all,... besides, I should not like to - see a monk in my kitchen, close to the soup. Oh, mercy! no! - </p> - <p> - Madame F—What a child you are! - </p> - <p> - Madame H—That has nothing to do with religious feelings, my dear; I - do not attack any dogma. Ah! if I were to say, for instance—come - now, if I were to say, what now? - </p> - <p> - Madame F—In point of fact, what really is dogma? - </p> - <p> - Madame H—Well, it is what can not be attacked. Thus, for instance, a - thing that is evident, you understand me, is unassailable,... or else it - should be assailed,... in short, it can not be attacked. That is why it is - monstrous to allow the Jewish religion and the Protestant religion in - France, because these religions can be assailed, for they have no dogma. I - give you this briefly, but in your prayer-book you will find the list of - dogmas. I am a rod of iron as regards dogmas. My husband, who, as I said, - has succeeded in inspiring me with doubts on many matters—without - imagining it, for he has never required anything of me; I must do him that - justice—but who, at any rate, has succeeded in making me neglect - many things belonging to religion, such as fasting, vespers, sermons,... - confession. - </p> - <p> - Madame F—Confession! Oh! my dear, I should never have believed that. - </p> - <p> - Madame H—It is in confidence, dear pet, that I tell you this. You - will swear never to speak of it? - </p> - <p> - Madame F—Confession! Oh! yes, I swear it. Come here, and let me kiss - you. - </p> - <p> - Madame H—You pity me, do you not? - </p> - <p> - Madame F—I can not pity you too much, for I am absolutely in the - same position. - </p> - <p> - Madame H—You, too! Good heavens! how I love you. What can one do, - eh? Must one not introduce some plan of conciliation into the household, - sacrifice one’s belief a little to that of one’s husband? - </p> - <p> - Madame F—No doubt. For instance, how would you have me go to high - mass, which is celebrated at my parish church at eleven o’clock exactly? - That is just our breakfast time. Can I let my husband breakfast alone? He - would never hinder me from going to high mass, he has said so a thousand - times, only he has always added, “When you want to go to mass during - breakfast time, I only ask one thing—it is to give me notice the day - before, so that I may invite some friends to keep me company.” - </p> - <p> - Madame H—But only fancy, pet, our two husbands could not be more - alike if they were brothers. Leon has always said, “My dear little chicken—” - </p> - <p> - Madame F—Ha! ha! ha! - </p> - <p> - Madame H—Yes, that is his name for me; you know how lively he is. He - has always said to me, then, “My dear little chicken, I am not a man to do - violence to your opinions, but in return give way to me as regards some of - your pious practices.” I only give you the mere gist of it; it was said - with a thousand delicacies, which I suppress. And I have agreed by - degrees,... so that, while only paying very little attention to the - outward observances of religion, I have remained, as I told you, a bar of - iron as regards dogmas. Oh! as to that, I would not give way an inch, a - hair-breadth, and Leon is the first to tell me that I am right. After all, - dogma is everything; practice, well, what would you? If I could bring Leon - round, it would be quite another thing. How glad I am to have spoken to - you about all this. - </p> - <p> - Madame F—Have we not been chattering? But it is half-past five, and - I must go and take my cinchona bark. Thirty minutes before meals, it is a - sacred duty. Will you come, pet? - </p> - <p> - Madame H—Stop a moment, I have lost my thimble again and must find - it. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - BOOK 3. - </h2> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XX. THE HOT-WATER BOTTLE - </h2> - <p> - When midnight strikes, when the embers die away into ashes, when the lamp - burns more feebly and your eyes close in spite of yourself, the best thing - to do, dear Madame, is to go to bed. - </p> - <p> - Get up from your armchair, take off your bracelets, light your rosecolored - taper, and proceed slowly, to the soft accompaniment of your trailing - skirt, rustling across the carpet, to your dressing-room, that perfumed - sanctuary in which your beauty, knowing itself to be alone, raises its - veils, indulges in self-examination, revels in itself and reckons up its - treasures as a miser does his wealth. - </p> - <p> - Before the muslin-framed mirror, which reveals all that it sees so well, - you pause carelessly and with a smile give one long satisfied look, then - with two fingers you withdraw the pin that kept up your hair, and its - long, fair tresses unroll and fall in waves, veiling your bare shoulders. - With a coquettish hand, the little finger of which is turned up, you - caress, as you gather them together, the golden flood of your abundant - locks, while with the other you pass through them the tortoiseshell comb - that buries itself in the depths of this fair forest and bends with the - effort. - </p> - <p> - Your tresses are so abundant that your little hand can scarcely grasp - them. They are so long that your outstretched arm scarcely reaches their - extremity. Hence it is not without difficulty that you manage to twist - them up and imprison them in your embroidered night-cap. - </p> - <p> - This first duty accomplished, you turn the silver tap, and the pure and - limpid water pours into a large bowl of enamelled porcelain. You throw in - a few drops of that fluid which perfumes and softens the skin, and like a - nymph in the depths of a quiet wood preparing for the toilet, you remove - the drapery that might encumber you. - </p> - <p> - But what, Madame, you frown? Have I said too much or not enough? Is it not - well known that you love cold water; and do you think it is not guessed - that at the contact of the dripping sponge you quiver from head to foot? - </p> - <p> - But what matters it, your toilette for the night is completed, you are - fresh, restored, and white as a nun in your embroidered dressing-gown, you - dart your bare feet into satin slippers and reenter your bedroom, - shivering slightly. To see you walking thus with hurried steps, wrapped - tightly in your dressing-gown, and with your pretty head hidden in its - nightcap, you might be taken for a little girl leaving the confessional - after confessing some terrible sin. - </p> - <p> - Gaining the bedside, Madame lays aside her slippers, and lightly and - without effort, bounds into the depths of the alcove. - </p> - <p> - However, Monsieur, who was already asleep with his nose on the Moniteur, - suddenly wakes up at the movement imparted to the bed. - </p> - <p> - “I thought that you were in bed already, dear,” he murmurs, falling off to - sleep again. “Good-night.” - </p> - <p> - “If I had been in bed you would have noticed it.” Madame stretches out her - feet and moves them about; she seems to be in quest of something. “I am - not in such a hurry to go to sleep as you are, thank goodness.” - </p> - <p> - Monsieur, suddenly and evidently annoyed, says: “But what is the matter, - my dear? You fidget and fidget—I want to sleep.” He turns over as he - speaks. - </p> - <p> - “I fidget! I am simply feeling for my hot-water bottle; you are - irritating.” - </p> - <p> - “Your hot-water bottle?” is Monsieur’s reply, with a grunt. - </p> - <p> - “Certainly, my hot-water bottle, my feet are frozen.” She goes on feeling - for it. “You are really very amiable this evening; you began by dozing - over the ‘Revue des Deux Mondes’, and I find you snoring over the - ‘Moniteur’. In your place I should vary my literature. I am sure you have - taken my hot-water bottle.” - </p> - <p> - “I have been doing wrong. I will subscribe to the ‘Tintamarre’ in future. - Come, good-night, my dear.” He turns over. “Hello, your hot-water bottle - is right at the bottom of the bed; I can feel it with the tips of my - toes.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, push it up; do you think that I can dive down there after it?” - </p> - <p> - “Shall I ring for your maid to help you?” He makes a movement of - ill-temper, pulls the clothes up to his chin, and buries his head in the - pillow. “Goodnight, my dear.” - </p> - <p> - Madame, somewhat vexed, says: “Good-night, goodnight.” - </p> - <p> - The respiration of Monsieur grows smooth, and even his brows relax, his - forehead becomes calm, he is on the point of losing all consciousness of - the realities of this life. - </p> - <p> - Madame taps lightly on her husband’s shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “Hum,” growls Monsieur. - </p> - <p> - Madame taps again. - </p> - <p> - “Well, what is it?” - </p> - <p> - Madame, in an angelic tone of voice, “My dear, would you put out the - candle?” - </p> - <p> - Monsieur, without opening his eyes, “The hot-water bottle, the candle, the - candle, the hot-water bottle.” - </p> - <p> - “Good heavens! how irritable you are, Oscar. I will put it out myself. - Don’t trouble yourself. You really have a very bad temper, my dear; you - are angry, and if you were goaded a little, you would, in five minutes, be - capable of anything.” - </p> - <p> - Monsieur, his voice smothered in the pillow, “No, not at all; I am sleepy, - dear, that is all. Good-night, my dear.” - </p> - <p> - Madame, briskly, “You forget that in domestic life good feeling has for - its basis reciprocal consideration.” - </p> - <p> - “I was wrong—come, good-night.” He raises himself up a little. - “Would you like me to kiss you?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t want you to, but I permit.” She puts her face toward that of her - husband, who kisses her on the forehead. “You are really too good, you - have kissed my nightcap.” - </p> - <p> - Monsieur, smiling, “Your hair smells very nice... You see I am so sleepy. - Ah! you have it in little plaits, you are going to wave it to-morrow.” - </p> - <p> - “To wave it. You were the first to find that that way of dressing it - became me, besides, it is the fashion, and tomorrow is my reception day. - Come, you irritable man, embrace me once for all and snore at your ease, - you are dying to do so.” - </p> - <p> - She holds her neck toward her husband. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur, laughing, “In the first place, I never snore. I never joke.” He - kisses his wife’s neck, and rests his head on her shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “Well, what are you doing there?” is her remark. - </p> - <p> - “I am digesting my kiss.” - </p> - <p> - Madame affects the lackadaisical, and looks sidewise at her husband with - an eye half disarmed. Monsieur sniffs the loved perfume with open - nostrils. - </p> - <p> - After a period of silence he whispers in his wife’s ear, “I am not at all - sleepy now, dear. Are your feet still cold? I will find the hot-water - bottle.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, thanks, put out the light and let us go to sleep; I am quite tired - out.” - </p> - <p> - She turns round by resting her arm on his face. - </p> - <p> - “No, no, I won’t have you go to sleep with your feet chilled; there is - nothing worse. There, there is the hot-water bottle, warm your poor little - feet... there... like that.” - </p> - <p> - “Thanks, I am very comfortable. Good-night, dear, let us go to sleep.” - </p> - <p> - “Good-night, my dear.” - </p> - <p> - After a long silence Monsieur turns first on one side and then on the - other, and ends by tapping lightly on his wife’s shoulder. - </p> - <p> - Madame, startled, “What is the matter? Good heavens! how you startled me!” - </p> - <p> - Monsieur, smiling, “Would you be kind enough to put out the candle?” - </p> - <p> - “What! is it for that you wake me up in the middle of my sleep? I shall - not be able to doze again. You are unbearable.” - </p> - <p> - “You find me unbearable?” He comes quite close to his wife; “Come, let me - explain my idea to you.” - </p> - <p> - Madame turns round—her eye meets the eye... full of softness.. of - her husband. “Dear me,” she says, “you are a perfect tiger.” - </p> - <p> - Then, putting her mouth to his ear, she murmurs with a smile, “Come, - explain your idea, for the sake of peace and quiet.” - </p> - <p> - Madame, after a very long silence, and half asleep, “Oscar!” - </p> - <p> - Monsieur, his eyes closed, in a faint voice, “My dear.” - </p> - <p> - “How about the candle? it is still alight.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! the candle. I will put it out. If you were very nice you would give - me a share of your hot-water bottle; one of my feet is frozen. - Good-night.” - </p> - <p> - “Good-night.” - </p> - <p> - They clasp hands and fall asleep. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXI. A LONGING - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - MONSIEUR and MADAME are quietly sitting together—The clock has just - struck ten—MONSIEUR is in his dressing-gown and slippers, is - leaning back in an armchair and reading the newspaper—MADAME is - carelessly working squares of laces. -</pre> - <p> - Madame—Such things have taken place, have they not, dear? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—(without raising his eyes)—Yes, my dear. - </p> - <p> - Madame—There, well I should never have believed it. But they are - monstrous, are they not? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—(without raising his eyes)—Yes, my dear. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Well, and yet, see how strange it is, Louise acknowledged it - to me last month, you know; the evening she called for me to go to the - perpetual Adoration, and our hour of adoration, as it turned out, by the - way, was from six to seven; impossible, too, to change our turn; none of - the ladies caring to adore during dinner-time, as is natural enough. Good - heavens, what a rage we were in! How good God must be to have forgiven - you. Do you remember? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—(continuing to read)—Yes, dear. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Ah! you remember that you said, ‘I don’t care a...’ Oh! but I - won’t repeat what you said, it is too naughty. How angry you were! ‘I will - go and dine at the restaurant, confound it!’ But you did not say confound, - ha! ha! ha! Well, I loved you just the same at that moment; it vexed me to - see you in a rage on God’s account, but for my own part I was pleased; I - like to see you in a fury; your nostrils expand, and then your moustache - bristles, you put me in mind of a lion, and I have always liked lions. - When I was quite a child at the Zoological Gardens they could not get me - away from them; I threw all my sous into their cage for them to buy - gingerbread with; it was quite a passion. Well, to continue my story. (She - looks toward her husband who is still reading, and after a pause,) Is it - interesting-that which you are reading? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—(like a man waking up)—What is it, my dear child? - What I am reading? Oh, it would scarcely interest you. (With a grimace.) - There are Latin phrases, you know, and, besides, I am hoarse. But I am - listening, go, on. (He resumes his newspaper.) - </p> - <p> - Madame—Well, to return to the perpetual Adoration, Louise confided - to me, under the pledge of secrecy, that she was like me. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Like you? What do you mean? - </p> - <p> - Madame—Like me; that is plain enough. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—You are talking nonsense, my little angel, follies as great - as your chignon. You women will end by putting pillows into your chignons. - </p> - <p> - Madame—(resting her elbows on her husband’s knees)—But, after - all, the instincts, the resemblances we have, must certainly be attributed - to something. Can any one imagine, for instance, that God made your cousin - as stupid as he is, and with a head like a pear? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—My cousin! my cousin! Ferdinand is only a cousin by - marriage. I grant, however, that he is not very bright. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Well, I am sure that his mother must have had a longing, or - something. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—What can I do to help it, my angel? - </p> - <p> - Madame—Nothing at all; but it clearly shows that such things are not - to be laughed at; and if I were to tell you that I had a longing— - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—(letting fall his newspaper)—The devil! a longing for - what? - </p> - <p> - Madame—Ah! there your nostrils are dilating; you are going to - resemble a lion again, and I never shall dare to tell you. It is so - extraordinary, and yet my mother had exactly the same longing. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Come, tell it me, you see that I am patient. If it is - possible to gratify it, you know that I love you, my... Don’t kiss me on - the neck; you will make me jump up to the ceiling, my darling. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Repeat those two little words. I am your darling, then? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Ha! ha! ha! She has little fingers which—ha! ha!—go - into your neck—ha! ha!—you will make me break something, - nervous as I am. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Well, break something. If one may not touch one’s husband, - one may as well go into a convent at once. (She puts her lips to - MONSIEUR’S ear and coquettishly pulls the end of his moustache.) I shall - not be happy till I have what I am longing for, and then it would be so - kind of you to do it. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Kind to do what? Come, dear, explain yourself. - </p> - <p> - Madame—You must first of all take off that great, ugly - dressing-gown, pull on your boots, put on your hat and go. Oh, don’t make - any faces; if you grumble in the least all the merit of your devotedness - will disappear ... and go to the grocer’s at the corner of the street, a - very respectable shop. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—To the grocer’s at ten o’clock at night! Are you mad? I - will ring for John; it is his business. - </p> - <p> - Madame (staying his hand) You indiscreet man. These are our own private - affairs; we must not take any one into our confidence. I will go into your - dressing-room to get your things, and you will put your boots on before - the fire comfortably... to please me, Alfred, my love, my life. I would - give my little finger to have... - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—To have what, hang it all, what, what, what? - </p> - <p> - Madame—(her face alight and fixing her eyes on him)—I want a - sou’s worth of paste. Had not you guessed it? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—But it is madness, delirium, fol— - </p> - <p> - Madame—I said paste, dearest; only a sou’s worth, wrapped in strong - paper. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—No, no. I am kind-hearted, but I should reproach myself— - </p> - <p> - Madame—(closing his mouth with her little hands)—Oh, not a - word; you are going to utter something naughty. But when I tell you that I - have a mad longing for it, that I love you as I have never loved you yet, - that my mother had the same desire—Oh! my poor mother (she weeps in - her hands), if she could only know, if she were not at the other end of - France. You have never cared for my parents; I saw that very well on our - wedding-day, and (she sobs) it will be the sorrow of my whole life. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—(freeing himself and suddenly rising)—Give me my - boots. - </p> - <p> - Madame—(with effusion)—Oh, thanks, Alfred, my love, you are - good, yes, you are good. Will you have your walking-stick, dear? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—I don’t care. How much do you want of that abomination—a - franc’s worth, thirty sous’ worth, a louis’ worth? - </p> - <p> - Madame—You know very well that I would not make an abuse of it-only - a sou’s worth. I have some sous for mass; here, take one. Adieu, Alfred; - be quick; be quick! - </p> - <p> - (Exit MONSIEUR.) - </p> - <p> - Left alone, Madame wafts a kiss in her most tender fashion toward the door - Monsieur has just closed behind him, then goes toward the glass and smiles - at herself with pleasure. Then she lights the wax candle in a little - candlestick, and quietly makes her way to the kitchen, noiselessly opens a - press, takes out three little dessert plates, bordered with gold and - ornamented with her initials, next takes from a box lined with white - leather, two silver spoons, and, somewhat embarrassed by all this luggage, - returns to her bedroom. - </p> - <p> - Then she pokes the fire, draws a little buhl table close up to the hearth, - spreads a white cloth, sets out the plates, puts the spoons by them, and - enchanted, impatient, with flushed complexion, leans back in an armchair. - Her little foot rapidly taps the floor, she smiles, pouts—she is - waiting. - </p> - <p> - At last, after an interval of some minutes, the outer door is heard to - close, rapid steps cross the drawingroom, Madame claps her hands and - Monsieur comes in. He does not look very pleased, as he advances holding - awkwardly in his left hand a flattened parcel, the contents of which may - be guessed. - </p> - <p> - Madame—(touching a gold-bordered plate and holding it out to her - husband)—Relieve yourself of it, dear. Could you not have been - quicker? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Quicker? - </p> - <p> - Madame—Oh! I am not angry with you, that is not meant for a - reproach, you are an angel; but it seems to me a century since you - started. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—The man was just going to shut his shop up. My gloves are - covered with it... it’s sticky... it’s horrid, pah! the abomination! At - last I shall have peace and quietness. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Oh! no harsh words, they hurt me so. But look at this pretty - little table, do you remember how we supped by the fireside? Ah! you have - forgotten it, a man’s heart has no memory. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Are you so mad as to imagine that I am going to touch it? - Oh! indeed! that is carrying— - </p> - <p> - Madame—(sadly)—See what a state you get in over a little favor - I ask of you. If in order to please me you were to overcome a slight - repugnance, if you were just to touch this nice, white jelly with you - lips, where would be the harm? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—The harm! the harm! it would be ridiculous. Never. - </p> - <p> - Madame—That is the reason? “It would be absurd.” It is not from - disgust, for there is nothing disgusting there, it is flour and water, - nothing more. It is not then from a dislike, but out of pride that you - refuse? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—(shrugging his shoulders)—What you say is childish, - puerile, silly. I do not care to answer it. - </p> - <p> - Madame—And what you say is neither generous nor worthy of you, since - you abuse your superiority. You see me at your feet pleading for an - insignificant thing, puerile, childish, foolish, perhaps, but one which - would give me pleasure, and you think it heroic not to yield. Do you want - me to speak out, well? then, you men are unfeeling. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Never. - </p> - <p> - Madame—Why, you admitted it to me yourself one night, on the Pont - des Arts, as we were walking home from the theatre. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—After all, there is no great harm in that. - </p> - <p> - Madame—(sadly)—I am not angry with you, this sternness is part - of your nature, you are a rod of iron. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—I have some energy when it is needed, I grant you, but I - have not the absurd pride you imagine, and there (he dips his finger in - the paste and carries it to his lips), is the proof, you spoilt child. Are - you satisfied? It has no taste, it is insipid. - </p> - <p> - Madame—You were pretending. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—I swear to you... - </p> - <p> - Madame (taking a little soon, filling it with her precious paste and - holding it to her husband’s lips)—I want to see the face you will - make, love. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—(Puts out his lips, buries his two front teeth, with marked - disgust, in the paste, makes a horrible face and spits into the fireplace)—Eugh. - </p> - <p> - Madame—(still holding the spoon and with much interest) Well? - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—Well! it is awful! oh! awful! taste it. - </p> - <p> - Madame—(dreamily stirring the paste with the spoon, her little - finger in the air)—I should never have believed that it was so - nasty. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—You will soon see for yourself, taste it, taste it. - </p> - <p> - Madame—I am in no hurry, I have plenty of time. - </p> - <p> - Monsieur—To see what it is like. Taste a little, come. - </p> - <p> - Madame—(pushing away the plate with a look of horror)—Oh! how - you worry me. Be quiet, do; for a trifle I could hate you. It is - disgusting, this paste of yours! - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXII. FAMILY LIFE - </h2> - <p> - It was the evening of the 15th of February. It was dreadfully cold. The - snow drove against the windows and the wind whistled furiously under the - doors. My two aunts, seated at a table in one corner of the drawing-room, - gave vent from time to time to deep sighs, and, wriggling in their - armchairs, kept casting uneasy glances toward the bedroom door. One of - them had taken from a little leather bag placed on the table her blessed - rosary and was repeating her prayers, while her sister was reading a - volume of Voltaire’s correspondence which she held at a distance from her - eyes, her lips moving as she perused it. - </p> - <p> - For my own part, I was striding up and down the room, gnawing my - moustache, a bad habit I have never been able to get rid of, and halting - from time to time in front of Dr. C., an old friend of mine, who was - quietly reading the paper in the most comfortable of the armchairs. I - dared not disturb him, so absorbed did he seem in what he was reading, but - in my heart I was furious to see him so quiet when I myself was so - agitated. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly he tossed the paper on to the couch and, passing his hand across - his bald and shining head, said: - </p> - <p> - “Ah! if I were a minister, it would not take long, no, it would not be - very long.... You have read that article on Algerian cotton. One of two - things, either irrigation.... But you are not listening to me, and yet it - is a more serious matter than you think.” - </p> - <p> - He rose, and with his hands in his pocket, walked across the room humming - an old medical student’s song. I followed him closely. - </p> - <p> - “Jacques,” said I, as he turned round, “tell me frankly, are you - satisfied?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, I am satisfied... observe my untroubled look,” and he broke - into his hearty and somewhat noisy laugh. - </p> - <p> - “You are not hiding anything from me, my dear fellow?” - </p> - <p> - “What a donkey you are, old fellow. I tell you that everything is going on - well.” - </p> - <p> - And he resumed his song, jingling the money in his pockets. - </p> - <p> - “All is going on well, but it will take some time,” he went on. “Let me - have one of your dressing-gowns. I shall be more comfortable for the - night, and these ladies will excuse me, will they not?” - </p> - <p> - “Excuse you, I should think so, you, the doctor, and my friend!” I felt - devotedly attached to him that evening. - </p> - <p> - “Well, then, if they will excuse me, you can very well let me have a pair - of slippers.” - </p> - <p> - At this moment a cry came from the next room and we distinctly heard these - words in a stifled voice: - </p> - <p> - “Doctor... oh! mon Dieu!... doctor!” - </p> - <p> - “It is frightful,” murmured my aunts. - </p> - <p> - “My dear friend,” I exclaimed, seizing the doctor’s arm, “you are quite - sure you are not concealing anything from me?” - </p> - <p> - “If you have a very loose pair they will suit me best; I have not the foot - of a young girl.... I am not concealing anything, I am not concealing - anything.... What do you think I should hide from you? It is all going on - very well, only as I said it will take time—By the way, tell Joseph - to get me one of your smokingcaps; once in dressing-gown and slippers a - smokingcap is not out of the way, and I am getting bald, my dear Captain. - How infernally cold it is here! These windows face the north, and there - are no sand-bags. Mademoiselle de V.,” he added, turning to my aunt, “you - will catch cold.” - </p> - <p> - Then as other sounds were heard, he said: “Let us go and see the little - lady.” - </p> - <p> - “Come here,” said my wife, who had caught sight of me, in a low voice, - “come here and shake hands with me.” Then she drew me toward her and - whispered in my ear: “You will be pleased to kiss the little darling, - won’t you?” Her voice was so faint and so tender as she said this, and she - added: “Do not take your hand away, it gives me courage.” - </p> - <p> - I remained beside her, therefore, while the doctor, who had put on my - dressing-gown, vainly strove to button it. - </p> - <p> - From time to time my poor little wife squeezed my hand violently, closing - her eyes, but not uttering a cry. The fire sparkled on the hearth. The - pendulum of the clock went on with its monotonous ticking, but it seemed - to me that all this calm was only apparent, that everything about me must - be in a state of expectation like myself and sharing my emotion. In the - bedroom beyond, the door of which was ajar, I could see the end of the - cradle and the shadow of the nurse who was dozing while she waited. - </p> - <p> - What I felt was something strange. I felt a new sentiment springing up in - my heart, I seemed to have some foreign body within my breast, and this - sweet sensation was so new to me that I was, as it were, alarmed at it. I - felt the little creature, who was there without yet being there, clinging - to me; his whole life unrolled itself before me. I saw him at the same - time a child and a grown-up man; it seemed to me that my own life was - about to be renewed in his and I felt from time to time an irresistible - need of giving him something of myself. - </p> - <p> - Toward half-past eleven, the doctor, like a captain consulting his - compass, pulled out his watch, muttered something and drew near the bed. - </p> - <p> - “Come, my dear lady,” said he to my wife, “courage, we are all round you - and all is going well; within five minutes you will hear him cry out.” - </p> - <p> - My mother-in-law, almost beside herself, was biting her lips and each pang - of the sufferer was reflected upon her face. Her cap had got disarranged - in such a singular fashion that, under any other circumstances, I should - have burst out laughing. At that moment I heard the drawing-room door open - and saw the heads of my aunts, one above the other, and behind them that - of my father, who was twisting his heavy white moustache with a grimace - that was customary to him. - </p> - <p> - “Shut the door,” cried the doctor, angrily, “don’t bother me.” - </p> - <p> - And with the greatest coolness in the world he turned to my mother-in-law - and added, “I ask a thousand pardons.” - </p> - <p> - But just then there was something else to think of than my old friend’s - bluntness. - </p> - <p> - “Is everything ready to receive him?” he continued, growling. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, my dear doctor,” replied my mother-in-law. - </p> - <p> - At length, the doctor lifted into the air a little object which almost - immediately uttered a cry as piercing as a needle. I shall never forget - the impression produced on me by this poor little thing, making its - appearance thus, all of a sudden, in the middle of the family. We had - thought and dreamed of it; I had seen him in my mind’s eye, my darling - child, playing with a hoop, pulling my moustache, trying to walk, or - gorging himself with milk in his nurse’s arms like a gluttonous little - kitten; but I had never pictured him to myself, inanimate, almost - lifeless, quite tiny, wrinkled, hairless, grinning, and yet, charming, - adorable, and be loved in spite of all-poor, ugly, little thing. It was a - strange impression, and so singular that it is impossible to understand - it, without having experienced it. - </p> - <p> - “What luck you have!” said the doctor, holding the child toward me; “it is - a boy.” - </p> - <p> - “A boy!” - </p> - <p> - “And a fine one.” - </p> - <p> - “Really, a boy!” - </p> - <p> - That was a matter of indifference to me now. What was causing me - indescribable emotion was the living proof of paternity, this little being - who was my own. I felt stupefied in presence of the great mystery of - childbirth. My wife was there, fainting, overcame, and the little living - creature, my own flesh, my own blood, was squalling and gesticulating in - the hands of Jacques. I was overwhelmed, like a workman who had - unconsciously produced a masterpiece. I felt myself quite small in - presence of this quivering piece of my own handiwork, and, frankly, a - little bit ashamed of having made it so well almost without troubling - about it. I can not undertake to explain all this, I merely relate my - impressions. - </p> - <p> - My mother-in-law held out her apron and the doctor placed the child on his - grandmother’s knees, saying: “Come, little savage, try not to be any worse - than your rascal of a father. Now for five minutes of emotion. Come, - Captain, embrace me.” - </p> - <p> - We did so heartily. The doctor’s little black eyes twinkled more brightly - than usual; I saw very well that he was moved. - </p> - <p> - “Did it make you feel queer, Captain? I mean the cry? Ah! I know it, it is - like a needle through the heart.... Where is the nurse? Ah! here she is. - No matter, he is a fine boy, your little lancer. Open the door for the - prisoners in the drawing-room.” - </p> - <p> - I opened the door. Every one was listening on the other side of it. My - father, my two aunts, still holding in their hands, one her rosary and the - other her Voltaire, my own nurse, poor old woman, who had come in a cab. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” they exclaimed anxiously, “well?” - </p> - <p> - “It is all over, it is a boy; go in, he is there.” - </p> - <p> - You can not imagine how happy I was to see on all their faces the - reflection of my own emotion. They embraced me and shook hands with me, - and I responded to all these marks of affection without exactly knowing - where they came from. - </p> - <p> - “Damn it all!” muttered my father, in my ear, holding me in his arms, with - his stick still in his hand and his hat on his head, “Damn it all!” - </p> - <p> - But he could not finish, however brave he might wish to appear; a big tear - was glittering at the tip of his nose. He muttered “Hum!” under his - moustache and finally burst into tears on my shoulder, saying: “I can not - help it.” - </p> - <p> - And I did likewise—I could not help it either. - </p> - <p> - However, everybody was flocking round the grandmamma, who lifted up a - corner of her apron and said: - </p> - <p> - “How pretty he is, the darling, how pretty! Nurse, warm the linen, give me - the caps.” - </p> - <p> - “Smile at your aunty,” said my aunt, jangling her rosary above the baby’s - head, “smile at aunty.” - </p> - <p> - “Ask him at the same time to recite a fable,” said the doctor. - </p> - <p> - Meanwhile my wife was coming to herself; she half opened her eyes and - seemed to be looking for something. - </p> - <p> - “Where is he?” she murmured in a faint voice. - </p> - <p> - They showed her her mother’s apron. - </p> - <p> - “A boy, is it not?” - </p> - <p> - Taking my hand, she drew me down toward her and said in a whisper, “Are - you satisfied with me? I did my best, dear.” - </p> - <p> - “Come, no emotion,” exclaimed the doctor, “you shall kiss each other - tomorrow. Colonel,” he said to my father, who still retained his hat and - stick, “keep them from kissing. No emotion, and every one outside. I am - going to dress the little lancer. Give me the little man, grandmamma. Come - here, little savage. You shall see whether I don’t know how to fasten pins - in.” - </p> - <p> - He took the baby in his two large hands and sat down on a stool before the - fire. - </p> - <p> - I watched my boy whom Jacques was turning about like a doll, but with - great skill. He examined him all over, touching and feeling him, and at - each test said with a smile: - </p> - <p> - “He is a fine one, he is a fine one.” - </p> - <p> - Then he rolled him up in his clothes, put a triple cap on his little bald - head, tied a folded ribbon under his chin to prevent his head falling - backward, and then, satisfied with his work, said: - </p> - <p> - “You saw how I did it, nurse? Well, you must dress this lancer every - morning in the same way. Nothing but a little sugar and water till - to-morrow. The mother has no fever. Come, all is going on well. - </p> - <p> - “Lucky Captain! I am so hungry. Do you know that it is one in the morning? - You haven’t got cold partridge or a bit of pie that you don’t know what to - do with, have you? It would suit me down to the ground, with a bottle of - something.” - </p> - <p> - We went both into the dining-room and laid the cloth without any more - ceremony. - </p> - <p> - I never in my life ate and drank so much as on that occasion. - </p> - <p> - “Come, get off to bed,” said the doctor, putting on his coat. “To-morrow - morning you shall have the wet-nurse. No, by the way, I’ll call for you, - and we will go and choose her together; it is curious. Be under arms at - half-past eight.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIII. NEW YEAR’S DAY - </h2> - <p> - It is barely seven o’clock. A pale ray of daylight is stealing through the - double curtains, and already some one is tapping at the door. I can hear - in the next room from the stifled laughter and the silvery tones of Baby, - who is quivering with impatience, and asking leave to come in. - </p> - <p> - “Papa,” he cries, “it is Baby, it is Baby come for the New Year.” - </p> - <p> - “Come in, my darling; come quick, and kiss us.” - </p> - <p> - The door opens and my boy, his eyes aglow, and his arms raised, rushes - toward the bed. His curls, escaping from the nightcap covering his head, - float on his forehead. His long, loose night-shirt, catching his little - feet, increases his impatience, and causes him to stumble at every step. - </p> - <p> - At length he crosses the room, and, holding out his two hands to mine: - “Baby wishes you a Happy New Year,” he says, in an earnest voice. - </p> - <p> - “Poor little love, with his bare feet! Come, darling, and warm yourself - under the counterpane.” - </p> - <p> - I lift him toward me, but at this moment my wife, who is asleep, suddenly - wakes. - </p> - <p> - “Who is there?” she exclaims, feeling for the bell. “Thieves!” - </p> - <p> - “It is we two, dear.” - </p> - <p> - “Who? Good heavens! how you frightened me! I was dreaming the house was on - fire, and that I heard your voice amid the raging flames. You were very - indiscreet in shouting like that!” - </p> - <p> - “Shouting! but you forget, mamma, that it is New Year’s Day, the day of - smiles and kisses? Baby was waiting for you to wake up, as well as - myself.” - </p> - <p> - However, I wrap the little fellow up in the eiderdown quilt and warm his - cold feet in my hands. - </p> - <p> - “Mamma, it is New Year’s Day,” he exclaims. With his arms he draws our two - heads together, puts forward his own and kisses us at haphazard with his - moist lips. I feel his dimpled fists digging into my neck, his little - fingers entangled in my beard. - </p> - <p> - My moustache tickles the tip of his nose, and he bursts into a fit of - joyous laughter as he throws his head back. - </p> - <p> - His mother, who has recovered from her fright, takes him in her arms and - rings the bell. - </p> - <p> - “The year is beginning well, dear,” she says, “but we must have a little - daylight.” - </p> - <p> - “Mamma, naughty children don’t have any new toys on New Year’s Day, do - they?” - </p> - <p> - And as he says this the sly fellow eyes a pile of parcels and packages - heaped up in one corner, visible despite the semidarkness. - </p> - <p> - Soon the curtains are drawn aside, and the shutters opened; daylight - floods the room; the fire crackles merrily on the hearth, and two large - parcels, carefully tied up, are placed on the bed. One is for my wife, and - the other for my boy. - </p> - <p> - “What is it? What is it?” I have multiplied the knots and tripled the - wrappings, and I gleefully follow their impatient fingers entangled among - the strings. - </p> - <p> - My wife gets impatient, smiles, pouts, kisses me, and asks for the - scissors. - </p> - <p> - Baby on his side tugs with all his might, biting his lips as he does so, - and ends by asking my help. His look strives to penetrate the wrappers. - All the signs of desire and expectation are stamped on his face. His hand, - hidden under the coverlet, causes the silk to rustle with his convulsive - movements, and his lips quiver as at the approach of some dainty. - </p> - <p> - At length the last paper falls aside. The lid is lifted, and joy breaks - forth. - </p> - <p> - “A fur tippet!” - </p> - <p> - “A Noah’s ark!” - </p> - <p> - “To match my muff, dear, kind husband.” - </p> - <p> - “With a Noah on wheels, dear papa. I do love you so.” - </p> - <p> - They throw themselves on my neck, four arms are clasped round me at once. - Emotion gets the better of me, and a tear steals into my eye. There are - two in those of my wife, and Baby, losing his head, sobs as he kisses my - hand. - </p> - <p> - It is absurd. - </p> - <p> - Absurd, I don’t know; but delightful, I can answer for it. - </p> - <p> - Does not grief, after all, call forth enough tears for us to forgive joy - the solitary one she perchance causes us to shed! - </p> - <p> - Life is not so sweet for us to risk ourselves in it singlehanded, and when - the heart is empty the way seems very long. - </p> - <p> - It is so pleasant to feel one’s self loved, to hear beside one the - cadenced steps of one’s fellow-travellers, and to say, “They are here, our - three hearts beat in unison.” So pleasant once a year, when the great - clock strikes the first of January, to sit down beside the path, with - hands locked together, and eyes fixed on the unknown dusty road losing - itself in the horizon, and to say, while embracing one another, “We still - love one another, my dear children; you rely on me, and I rely on you. Let - us have confidence, and walk steadfastly.” - </p> - <p> - This is how I explain that one may weep a little while examining a new fur - tippet and opening a Noah’s ark. - </p> - <p> - But breakfast time draws near. I have cut myself twice while shaving; I - have stepped on my son’s wild beasts in turning round, and I have the - prospect of a dozen duty calls, as my wife terms them, before me; yet I am - delighted. - </p> - <p> - We sit down to the breakfast table, which has a more than usually festive - aspect. A faint aroma of truffles perfumes the air, every one is smiling, - and through the glass I see, startling sight! the doorkeeper, with his own - hands, wiping the handrail of the staircase. It is a glorious day. - </p> - <p> - Baby has ranged his elephants, lions, and giraffes round his plate, and - his mother, under pretext of a draught, breakfasts in her tippet. - </p> - <p> - “Have you ordered the carriage, dear, for our visits?” I ask. - </p> - <p> - “That cushion for Aunt Ursula will take up such a deal of room. It might - be put beside the coachman.” - </p> - <p> - “Poor aunt.” - </p> - <p> - “Papa, don’t let us go to Aunt Ursula,” said Baby; “she pricks so when she - kisses you.” - </p> - <p> - “Naughty boy.... Think of all we have to get into the carriage. Leon’s - rocking-horse, Louise’s muff, your father’s slippers, Ernestine’s quilt, - the bonbons, the work-box. I declare, aunt’s cushion must go under the - coachman’s feet.” - </p> - <p> - “Papa, why doesn’t the giraffe eat cutlets?” - </p> - <p> - “I really don’t know, dear.” - </p> - <p> - “Neither do I, papa.” - </p> - <p> - An hour later we are ascending the staircase leading to Aunt Ursula’s. My - wife counts the steps as she pulls herself up by the hand-rail, and I - carry the famous cushion, the bonbons, and my son, who has insisted on - bringing his giraffe with him. - </p> - <p> - Aunt Ursula, who produces the same effect on him as the sight of a rod - would, is waiting us in her icy little drawing-room. Four square - armchairs, hidden beneath yellow covers, stand vacant behind four little - mats. A clock in the shape of a pyramid, surmounted on a sphere, ticks - under a glass case. - </p> - <p> - A portrait on the wall, covered with fly-spots, shows a nymph with a lyre, - standing beside a waterfall. This nymph was Aunt Ursula. How she has - altered! - </p> - <p> - “My dear aunt, we have come to wish you a Happy New Year.” - </p> - <p> - “To express our hopes that—” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, nephew, thank you, niece,” and she points to two chairs. “I am - sensible of this step on your part; it proves to me that you have not - altogether forgotten the duties imposed upon you by family ties.” - </p> - <p> - “You are reckoning, my dear aunt, without the affection we feel for you, - and which of itself is enough... Baby, go and kiss your aunt.” - </p> - <p> - Baby whispers in my ear, “But, papa, I tell you she does prick.” - </p> - <p> - I place the bonbons on a side-table. - </p> - <p> - “You can, nephew, dispense with offering me that little gift; you know - that sweetmeats disagree with me, and, if I were not aware of your - indifference as to the state of my health, I should see in your offering a - veiled sarcasm. But let that pass. Does your father still bear up against - his infirmities courageously?” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, yes.” - </p> - <p> - “I thought to please you, dear aunt,” observes my wife, “by embroidering - for you this cushion, which I beg you to accept.” - </p> - <p> - “I thank you, child, but I can still hold myself sufficiently upright, - thank God, not to have any need of a cushion. The embroidery is charming, - it is an Oriental design. You might have made a better choice, knowing - that I like things much more simple. It is charming, however, although - this red next to the green here sets one’s teeth on edge. Taste in colors - is, however, not given to every one. I have, in return, to offer you my - photograph, which that dear Abbe Miron insisted on my having taken.” - </p> - <p> - “How kind you are, and how like you it is! Do you recognize your aunt, - Baby?” - </p> - <p> - “Do not think yourself obliged to speak contrary to your opinion. This - photograph does not in any way resemble me, my eyes are much brighter. I - have also a packet of jujubes for your child. He seems to have grown.” - </p> - <p> - “Baby, go and kiss your aunt.” - </p> - <p> - “And then we shall go, mamma?” - </p> - <p> - “You are very rude, my dear.” - </p> - <p> - “Let him speak out; at any rate, he is frank. But I see that your husband - is getting impatient, you have other... errands to fulfil; I will not keep - you. Besides, I am going to church to pray for those who do not pray for - themselves.” - </p> - <p> - From twelve duty calls, subtract one duty call, and eleven remain. Hum! - “Coachman, Rue St. Louis au Marais.” - </p> - <p> - “Papa, has Aunt Ursula needles in her chin?” - </p> - <p> - Let us pass over the eleven duty calls, they are no more agreeable to - write of than to make. - </p> - <p> - Toward seven o’clock, heaven be praised, the horses stop before my - father’s, where dinner awaits us. Baby claps his hands, and smiles at old - Jeannette, who, at the sound of the wheels, has rushed to the door. “Here - they are,” she exclaims, and she carries off Baby to the kitchen, where my - mother, with her sleeves turned up, is giving the finishing touch to her - traditional plum cake. - </p> - <p> - My father, on his way to the cellar, lantern in hand, and escorted by his - old servant, Jean, who is carrying the basket, halts. “Why, children, how - late you are! Come to my arms, my dears; this is the day on which one - kisses in good earnest. Jean, hold my lantern a minute.” And as my old - father clasps me to his breast, his hand seeks out mine and grasps it, - with a long clasp. Baby, who glides in between our legs, pulls our - coat-tails and holds up his little mouth for a kiss too. - </p> - <p> - “But I am keeping you here in the anteroom and you are frozen; go into the - drawing-room, there are a good fire and good friends there.” - </p> - <p> - They have heard us, the door opens, and a number of arms are held out to - us. Amid handshakings, embracings, good wishes, and kisses, boxes are - opened, bonbons are showered forth, parcels are undone, mirth becomes - deafening, and good humor tumultuous. Baby standing amid his presents - resembles a drunken man surrounded by a treasure, and from time to time - gives a cry of joy on discovering some fresh toy. - </p> - <p> - “The little man’s fable,” exclaims my father, swinging his lantern which - he has taken again from Jean. - </p> - <p> - A deep silence ensues, and the poor child, whose debut in the elocutionary - art it is, suddenly loses countenance. He casts down his eyes, blushes and - takes refuge in the arms of his mother, who, stooping down, whispers, - “Come, darling, ‘A lamb was quenching’; you know the wolf and the lamb.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, mamma, I know the little lamb that wanted to drink.” And in a - contrite voice, his head bent down on his breast, he repeats with a deep - sigh, “‘A little lamb was quenching his thirst in a clear stream.”’ - </p> - <p> - We all, with ears on the alert and a smile on our lips, follow his - delightful little jargon. - </p> - <p> - Uncle Bertrand, who is rather deaf, has made an ear trumpet of his hand - and drawn his chair up. “Ah! I can follow it,” he says. “It is the fox and - the grapes.” And as there is a murmur of “Hush,” at this interruption, he - adds: “Yes, yes, he recites with intelligence, great intelligence.” - </p> - <p> - Success restores confidence to my darling, who finishes his fable with a - burst of laughter. Joy is communicative, and we take our places at table - amid the liveliest mirth. - </p> - <p> - “By the way,” says my father, “where the deuce is my lantern. I have - forgotten all about the cellar. Jean, take your basket and let us go and - rummage behind the fagots.” - </p> - <p> - The soup is smoking, and my mother, after having glanced smilingly round - the table, plunges her ladle into the tureen. Give me the family dinner - table at which those we love are seated, at which we may risk resting our - elbows at dessert, and at which at thirty we once more taste the wine - offered at our baptism. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIV. LETTERS OF A YOUNG MOTHER TO HER FRIEND. - </h2> - <p> - The little caps are the ones I want, Marie. Be good enough to send me the - pattern of the braces, those of your own invention, you know. Thanks for - your coverlet, it is soft, flexible, warm, and charming, and Baby, amid - its white wool, looks like a rosebud hidden in the snow. I am becoming - poetical, am I not? But what would you have? My poor heart is overflowing - with joy. My son, do you understand that, dear, my own son? When I heard - the sharp cry of the little being whom my mother showed me lying in her - apron, it seemed to me that a burning thrill of love shot through my - veins. My old doctor’s bald head was close to me, I caught hold of it and - kissed him thrice. - </p> - <p> - “Calm yourself, my dear child,” said he. - </p> - <p> - “Doctor, be quiet, or I will kiss you again. Give me my baby, my love. Are - you quite sure it is a boy?” - </p> - <p> - And in the adjoining drawing-room, where the whole family were waiting, I - could hear amid the sound of kisses, the delightful words, “It is a boy, a - fine boy.” - </p> - <p> - My poor husband, who for twelve hours had not left me, overcome with - fatigue and emotion, was crying and laughing in one corner of the room. - </p> - <p> - “Come, nurse, swaddle him, quick now. No pins, confound it all, strings, I - will have strings. What? Give me the child, you don’t understand anything - about it.” - </p> - <p> - And the good doctor in the twinkling of an eye had dressed my child. - </p> - <p> - “He looks a Colonel, your boy. Put him into the cradle with... now be - calm, my dear patient... with a hot-water bottle to his feet. Not too much - fire, especially in the Colonel’s room. Now, no more noise, repose, and - every one out of the way.” - </p> - <p> - And as through the opening of the door which was just ajar, Aunt Ursula - whispered, “Doctor, let me come in; just to press her hand, doctor.” - </p> - <p> - “Confound it! every one must be off; silence and quiet are absolutely - necessary.” They all left. - </p> - <p> - “Octave,” continued the doctor, “come and kiss your wife now, and make an - end of it. Good little woman, she has been very brave.... Octave, come and - kiss your wife, and be quick about it if you don’t want me to kiss her - myself. I will do what I say,” he added, threatening to make good his - words. - </p> - <p> - Octave, buried in his child’s cradle, did not hear. - </p> - <p> - “Good, now he is going to suffocate my Colonel for me.” - </p> - <p> - My husband came at length. He held out his hand which was quivering with - emotion, and I grasped it with all my might. If my heart at that moment - did not break from excess of feeling, it was because God no doubt knew - that I should still have need of it. - </p> - <p> - You know, dear Marie, that before a child comes we love each other as - husband and wife, but we love each other on our own account, while - afterward we love each other on his, the dear love, who with his tiny hand - has rivetted the chain forever. God, therefore, allows the heart to grow - and swell. Mine was full; nevertheless, my baby came and took his place in - it. Yet nothing overflowed, and I still feel that there is room for mother - and yourself. You told me, and truly, that this would be a new life, a - life of deep love and delightful devotion. All my past existence seems - trivial and colorless to me, and I perceive that I am beginning to live. I - am as proud as a soldier who has been in battle. Wife and mother, those - words are our epaulettes. Grandmother is the field-marshal’s baton. - </p> - <p> - How sweet I shall render the existence of my two loved ones! - </p> - <p> - How I shall cherish them! I am wild, I weep, I should like to kiss you. I - am afraid I am too happy. - </p> - <p> - My husband is really good. He holds the child with such pleasing - awkwardness, it costs him such efforts to lift this slight burden. When he - brings it to me, wrapped in blankets, he walks with slow and careful - steps. One would think that the ground was going to crumble away beneath - his feet. Then he places the little treasure in my bed, quite close to me, - on a large pillow. We deck Baby; we settle him comfortably, and if after - many attempts we get him to smile, it is an endless joy. Often my husband - and I remain in the presence of this tiny creature, our heads resting on - our hands. We silently follow the hesitating and charming movements of his - little rosy-nailed hand on the silk, and we find in this so deep a charm - that it needs a considerable counter-attraction to tear us away. - </p> - <p> - We have most amusing discussions on the shape of his forehead and the - color of his eyes, which always end in grand projects for his future, very - silly, no doubt, but so fascinating. - </p> - <p> - Octave wants him to follow a diplomatic career. He says that he has the - eye of a statesman and that his gestures, though few, are full of meaning. - Poor, dear little ambassador, with only three hairs on your head! But what - dear hairs they are, those threads of gold curling at the back of his - neck, just above the rosy fold where the skin is so fine and so fresh that - kisses nestle there of themselves. - </p> - <p> - The whole of this little body has a perfume which intoxicates me and makes - my heart leap. What, dear friend, are the invisible ties which bind us to - our children? Is it an atom of our own soul, a part of our own life, which - animates and vivifies them? There must be something of the kind, for I can - read amid the mists of his little mind. I divine his wishes, I know when - he is cold, I can tell when he is hungry. - </p> - <p> - Do you know the most delightful moment? It is when after having taken his - evening meal and gorged himself with milk like a gluttonous little kitten, - he falls asleep with his rosy cheek resting on my arm. His limbs gently - relax, his head sinks down on my breast, his eyes close, and his - half-opened mouth continues to repeat the action of suckling. - </p> - <p> - His warm, moist breath brushes the hand that is supporting him. Then I - wrap him up snugly in my turned-up skirt, hide his little feet under his - clothes and watch my darling. I have him there, all to myself, on my - knees. There is not a quiver of his being that escapes me or that does not - vibrate in myself. I feel at the bottom of my heart a mirror that reflects - them all. He is still part of me. Is it not my milk that nourishes him, my - voice that hushes him off to sleep, my hand that dresses and caresses, - encourages and supports him? The feeling that I am all in all for him - further adds a delicious charm of protection to the delight of having - brought him into the world. - </p> - <p> - When I think that there are women who pass by such joys without turning - their heads. The fools! - </p> - <p> - Yes, the present is delightful and I am drunk with happiness. There is - also the future, far away in the clouds. I often think of it, and I do not - know why I shudder at the approach of a storm. - </p> - <p> - Madness! I shall love him so discreetly, I shall render the weight of my - affection so light for him, that why should he wish to separate from me? - Shall I not in time become his friend? Shall I not when a black down - shadows those rosy little lips, when the bird, feeling its wings grown, - seeks to leave the nest, shall I not be able to bring him back by - invisible ties to the arms in which he now is sleeping? Perhaps at that - wretched moment they call a man’s youth you will forget me, my little - darling! Other hands than mine perhaps will brush the hair away from your - forehead at twenty. Alas! other lips, pressed burningly where mine are now - pressed, will wipe out with a kiss twenty years of caresses. Yes, but when - you return from this intoxicating and fatiguing journey, tired and - exhausted, you will soon take refuge in the arms that once nursed you, you - will rest your poor, aching head where it rests now, you will ask me to - wipe away your tears and to make you forget the bruises received on the - way, and I shall give you, weeping for joy, the kiss which at once - consoles and fills with hope. - </p> - <p> - But I see that I am writing a whole volume, dear Marie. I will not re-read - it or I should never dare to send it to you. What would you have? I am - losing my head a little. I am not yet accustomed to all this happiness. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - Yours affectionately. -</pre> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXV. FOUR YEARS LATER - </h2> - <p> - Yes, my dear, he is a man and a man for good and all. He has come back - from the country half as big again and as bold as a lion. He climbs on to - the chairs, stops the clocks and sticks his hands in his pockets like a - grown-up person. - </p> - <p> - When I see in the morning in the anteroom my baby’s little shoes standing - proudly beside the paternal boots, I experience, despite myself, a return - toward that past which is yet so near. Yesterday swaddling clothes, today - boots, tomorrow spurs. Ah! how the happy days fly by. Already four years - old. I can scarcely carry him, even supposing he allowed me to, for his - manly dignity is ticklish. He passes half his life armed for war, his - pistols, his guns, his whips and his swords are all over the place. There - is a healthy frankness about all his doings that charms me. - </p> - <p> - Do you imagine from this that my demon no longer has any good in him? At - times he is an angel and freely returns the caresses I bestow upon him. In - the evening after dinner he gets down into my armchair, takes my head in - his hands and arranges my hair in his own way. His fresh little mouth - travels all over my face. He imprints big sounding kisses on the back of - my neck, which makes me shudder all over. We have endless talks together. - “Why’s” come in showers, and all these “why’s” require real answers; for - the intelligence of children is above all things logical. I will only give - one of his sayings as a proof. - </p> - <p> - His grandmother is rather unwell, and every night he tacks on to his - prayer these simple words, “Please God make Granny well, because I love - her so.” But for greater certainty he has added on his own account, “You - know, God, Granny who lives in the Rue Saint-Louis, on the first floor.” - He says all this with an expression of simple confidence and such comic - seriousness, the little love. You understand, it is to spare God the - trouble of looking for the address. - </p> - <p> - I leave you; I hear him cough. I do not know whether he has caught cold, - but I think he has been looking rather depressed since the morning. Do not - laugh at me, I am not otherwise uneasy. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - Yours most affectionately. -</pre> - <p> - Yesterday there was a consultation. On leaving the house my old doctor’s - eyes were moist; he strove to hide it, but I saw a tear. My child must be - very ill then? The thought is dreadful, dear. They seek to reassure me, - but I tremble. - </p> - <p> - The night has not brought any improvement. Still this fever. If you could - see the state of the pretty little body we used to admire so. I will not - think of what God may have in store for me. Ice has been ordered to be put - to his head. His hair had to be cut off. Poor fair little curls that used - to float in the wind as he ran after his hoop. It is terrible. I have - dreadful forebodings. - </p> - <p> - My child, my poor child! He is so weak that not a word comes now from his - pale parched lips. His large eyes that still shine in the depths of their - sockets, smile at me from time to time, but this smile is so gentle, so - faint, that it resembles a farewell. A farewell! But what would become of - me? - </p> - <p> - This morning, thinking he was asleep, I could not restrain a sob. His lips - opened, and he said, but in a whisper so low that I had to put my ear - close down to catch it: “You do love me then, mamma?” - </p> - <p> - Do I love him? I should die. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - NICE. -</pre> - <p> - They have brought me here and I feel no better for it. Every day my - weakness increases. I still spit blood. Besides, what do they seek to cure - me of? Yours as ever. - </p> - <p> - If I should never return to Paris, you will find in my wardrobe his last - toys; the traces of his little fingers are still visible on them. To the - left is the branch of the blessed box that used to hang at his bedside. - Let your hands alone touch all this. Burn these dear relics, this poor - evidence of shattered happiness. I can still see... Sobs are choking me. - </p> - <p> - Farewell, dear friend. What would you? I built too high on too unstable a - soil. I loved one object too well. - </p> - <p> - Yours from my heart. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVI. OLD RECOLLECTIONS - </h2> - <p> - Cover yourselves with fine green leaves, tall trees casting your peaceful - shade. Steal through the branches, bright sunlight, and you, studious - promenaders, contemplative idlers, mammas in bright toilettes, gossiping - nurses, noisy children, and hungry babies, take possession of your - kingdom; these long walks belong to you. - </p> - <p> - It is Sunday. Joy and festivity. The gaufre seller decks his shop and - lights his stove. The white cloth is spread on the table and piles of - golden cakes attract the customer. - </p> - <p> - The woman who lets out chairs has put on her apron with its big pockets - for sous. The park keeper, my dear little children, has curled his - moustache, polished up his harmless sword and put on his best uniform. See - how bright and attractive the marionette theatre looks in the sunshine, - under its striped covering. - </p> - <p> - Sunday requires all this in its honor. - </p> - <p> - Unhappy are those to whom the tall trees of Luxembourg gardens do not - recall one of those recollections which cling to the heart like its first - perfume to a vase. - </p> - <p> - I was a General, under those trees, a General with a plume like a mourning - coach-horse, and armed to the teeth. I held command from the hut of the - newspaper vendor to the kiosk of the gaufre seller. No false modesty, my - authority extended to the basin of the fountain, although the great white - swans rather alarmed me. Ambushes behind the tree trunks, advanced posts - behind the nursemaids, surprises, fights with cold steel; attacks by - skirmishers, dust, encounters, carnage and no bloodshed. After which our - mammas wiped our foreheads, rearranged our dishevelled hair, and tore us - away from the battle, of which we dreamed all night. - </p> - <p> - Now, as I pass through the garden with its army of children and nurses, - leaning on my stick with halting step, how I regret my General’s cocked - hat, my paper plume, my wooden sword and my pistol. My pistol that would - snap caps and was the cause of my rapid promotion. - </p> - <p> - Disport yourselves, little folks; gossip, plump nurses, as you scold your - soldiers. Embroider peaceably, young mothers, making from time to time a - little game of your neighbors among yourselves; and you, reflective - idlers, look at that charming picture-babies making a garden. - </p> - <p> - Playing in the sand, a game as old as the world and always amusing. - Hillocks built up in a line with little bits of wood stuck into them, - represent gardens in the walks of which baby gravely places his little - uncertain feet. What would he not give, dear little man, to be able to - complete his work by creating a pond in his park, a pond, a gutter, three - drops of water? - </p> - <p> - Further on the sand is damper, and in the mountain the little fingers - pierce a tunnel. A gigantic work which the boot of a passer-by will soon - destroy. What passer-by respects a baby’s mountain? Hence the young rascal - avenges himself. See that gentleman in the brown frockcoat, who is reading - the ‘Revue des Deux Mondes’ on the bench; our workers have piled up - hillocks of sand and dust around him, the skirts of his coat have already - lost their color. - </p> - <p> - But let this equipage noisily dashing along go by. Four horses, two bits - of string, and a fifth horse who is the driver. That is all, and yet one - fancies one’s self in a postchaise. How many places has one not visited by - nightfall? - </p> - <p> - There are drivers who prefer to be horses, there are horses who would - rather be drivers; first symptoms of ambition. - </p> - <p> - And the solitary baby who slowly draws his omnibus round the gaufre - seller, eyeing his shop! An indefatigable consumer, but a poor paymaster. - </p> - <p> - Do you see down there under the plane-trees that group of nurses, a herd - of Burgundian milch kine, and at their feet, rolling on a carpet, all - those little rosy cheeked philosophers who only ask God for a little - sunshine, pure milk, and quiet, in order to be happy. Frequently an - accident disturbs the delightful calm. The Burgundian who mistrusted - matters darts forward. It is too late. - </p> - <p> - “The course of a river is not to be checked,” says Giboyer. - </p> - <p> - Sometimes the disaster is still more serious, and one repairs it as one - can; but the philosopher who loves these disasters is indignant and - squalls, swearing to himself to begin again. - </p> - <p> - Those little folk are delightful; we love children, but this affection for - the species in general becomes yet more sweet when it is no longer a - question of a baby, but of one’s own baby. - </p> - <p> - Bachelors must not read what follows; I wish to speak to the family - circle. Between those of a trade there is a better understanding. - </p> - <p> - I am a father, my dear madame, and have been of course the rejoicing papa - of a matchless child. From beneath his cap there escaped a fair and curly - tress that was our delight, and when I touched his white neck with my - finger he broke into a laugh and showed me his little white pearls, as he - clasped my head in his two chubby arms. - </p> - <p> - His first tooth was an event. We went into the light the better to see. - The grandparents looked through their glasses at the little white spot, - and I, with outstretched neck, demonstrated, explained and proved. And all - at once I ran off to the cellar to seek out in the right corner a bottle - of the best. - </p> - <p> - My son’s first tooth. We spoke of his career during dinner, and at dessert - grand-mamma gave us a song. - </p> - <p> - After this tooth came others, and with them tears and pain, but then when - they were all there how proudly he bit into his slice of bread, how - vigorously he attacked his chop in order to eat “like papa.” - </p> - <p> - “Like papa,” do you remember how these two words warm the heart, and how - many transgressions they cause to be forgiven. - </p> - <p> - My great happiness,—is it yours too?—was to be present at my - darling’s awakening. I knew the time. I would gently draw aside the - curtains of his cradle and watch him as I waited. - </p> - <p> - I usually found him stretched diagonally, lost in the chaos of sheets and - blankets, his legs in the air, his arms crossed above his head. Often his - plump little hand still clutched the toy that had helped to send him off - to sleep, and through his parted lips came the regular murmur of his soft - breathing. The warmth of his sleep had given his cheeks the tint of a - well-ripened peach. His skin was warm, and the perspiration of the night - glittered on his forehead in little imperceptible pearls. - </p> - <p> - Soon his hand would make a movement; his foot pushed away the blanket, his - whole body stirred, he rubbed an eye, stretched out his arms, and then his - look from under his scarcely raised eyelids would rest on me. - </p> - <p> - He would smile at me, murmuring softly, so softly that I would hold my - breath to seize all the shades of his music. - </p> - <p> - “Dood mornin’, papa.” - </p> - <p> - “Good morning, my little man; have you slept well?” - </p> - <p> - We held out our arms to each other and embraced like old friends. - </p> - <p> - Then the talking would begin. He chatted as the lark would sing to the - rising sun. Endless stories. - </p> - <p> - He would tell me his dreams, asking after each sentence for “his nice, - warm bread and milk, with plenty of sugar.” And when his breakfast came - up, what an outburst of laughter, what joy as he drew himself up to reach - it; then his eye would glitter with a tear in the corner, and the chatter - begin again. - </p> - <p> - At other times he would come and surprise me in bed. I would pretend to be - asleep, and he would pull my beard and shout in my ear. I feigned great - alarm and threatened to be avenged. From this arose fights among the - counterpanes, entrenchments behind the pillows. In sign of victory I would - tickle him, and then he shuddered, giving vent to the frank and - involuntary outburst of laughter of happy childhood. He buried his head - between his two shoulders like a tortoise withdrawing into his shell, and - threatened me with his plump rosy foot. The skin of his heel was so - delicate that a young girl’s cheek would have been proud of it. How many - kisses I would cover those dear little feet with when I warmed his long - nightdress before the fire. - </p> - <p> - I had been forbidden to undress him, because it had been found that I - entangled the knots instead of undoing them. - </p> - <p> - All this was charming, but when it was necessary to act rigorously and - check the romping that was going too far, he would slowly drop his - eyelids, while with dilated nostrils and trembling lips he tried to keep - back the big tear glittering beneath his eyelid. - </p> - <p> - What courage was not necessary in order to refrain from calming with a - kiss the storm on the point of bursting, from consoling the little swollen - heart, from drying the tear that was overflowing and about to become a - flood. - </p> - <p> - A child’s expression is then so touching, there is so much grief in a warm - tear slowly falling, in a little contracted face, a little heaving breast. - </p> - <p> - All this is long past. Yet years have gone by without effacing these loved - recollections; and now that my baby is thirty years old and has a heavy - moustache, when he holds out his large hand and says in his bass voice, - “Good morning, father,” it still seems to me that an echo repeats afar off - the dear words of old, “Dood mornin’, papa.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVII. THE LITTLE BOOTS - </h2> - <p> - In the morning when I left my room, I saw placed in line before the door - his boots and mine. His were little laced-up boots rather out of shape, - and dulled by the rough usage to which he subjects them. The sole of the - left boot was worn thin, and a little hole was threatening at the toe of - the right. The laces, worn and slack, hung to the right and left. - Swellings in the leather marked the places of his toes, and the accustomed - movements of his little foot had left their traces in the shape of - creases, slight or deep. - </p> - <p> - Why have I remembered all this? I really do not know, but it seems to me - that I can still see the boots of the dear little one placed there on the - mat beside my own, two grains of sand by two paving stones, a tom tit - beside an elephant. They were his every-day boots, his playfellows, those - with which he ascended sand hills and explored puddles. They were devoted - to him, and shared his existence so closely that something of himself was - met with again in them. I should have recognized them among a thousand; - they had an especial physiognomy about them; it seemed to me that an - invisible tie attached them to him, and I could not look at their - undecided shape, their comic and charming grace, without recalling their - little master, and acknowledging to myself that they resembled him. - </p> - <p> - Everything belonging to a baby becomes a bit babyish itself, and assumes - that expression of unstudied and simple grace peculiar to a child. - </p> - <p> - Beside these laughing, gay, good-humored little boots, only asking leave - to run about the country, my own seemed monstrous, heavy, coarse, - ridiculous, with their heels. From their heavy and disabused air one felt - that for them life was a grave matter, its journeys long, and the burden - borne quite a serious one. - </p> - <p> - The contrast was striking, and the lesson deep. I would softly approach - these little boots in order not to wake the little man who was still - asleep in the adjoining room; I felt them, I turned them over, I looked at - them on all sides, and I found a delightful smile rise to my lips. Never - did the old violet-scented glove that lay for so long in the inmost recess - of my drawer procure me so sweet an emotion. - </p> - <p> - Paternal love is no trifle; it has its follies and weaknesses, it is - puerile and sublime, it can neither be analyzed nor explained, it is - simply felt, and I yielded myself to it with delight. - </p> - <p> - Let the papa without weakness cast the first stone at me; the mammas will - avenge me. - </p> - <p> - Remember that this little laced boot, with a hole in the toe, reminded me - of his plump little foot, and that a thousand recollections were connected - with that dear trifle. - </p> - <p> - I recalled him, dear child, as when I cut his toe nails, wriggling about, - pulling at my beard, and laughing in spite of himself, for he was - ticklish. - </p> - <p> - I recalled him as when of an evening in front of a good fire, I pulled off - his little socks. What a treat. - </p> - <p> - I would say “one, two.” And he, clad in his long nightgown, his hands lost - in the sleeves, would wait with glittering eyes, and ready to break into a - fit of laughter for the “three.” - </p> - <p> - At last after a thousand delays, a thousand little teasings that excited - his impatience and allowed me to snatch five or six kisses, I said - “three.” - </p> - <p> - The sock flew away. Then there was a wild joy; he would throw himself back - on my arm, waving his bare legs in the air. From his open mouth, in which - two rows of shining little pearls could be distinguished, welled forth a - burst of ringing laughter. - </p> - <p> - His mother, who, however, laughed too, would say the next minute, “Come, - baby, come, my little angel, you will get cold... But leave off... Will - you have done, you little demon?” - </p> - <p> - She wanted to scold, but she could not be serious at the sight of his - fair-haired head, and flushed, smiling, happy face, thrown back on my - knee. - </p> - <p> - She would look at me, and say: - </p> - <p> - “He is unbearable. Good gracious! what a child.” - </p> - <p> - But I understood that this meant: - </p> - <p> - “Look how handsome, sturdy and healthy he is, our baby, our little man, - our son.” - </p> - <p> - And indeed he was adorable; at least I thought so. - </p> - <p> - I had the wisdom—I can say it now that my hair is white—not to - let one of those happy moments pass without amply profiting by it, and - really I did well. Pity the fathers who do not know how to be papas as - often as possible, who do not know how to roll on the carpet, play at - being a horse, pretend to be the great wolf, undress their baby, imitate - the barking of the dog, and the roar of the lion, bite whole mouthfuls - without hurting, and hide behind armchairs so as to let themselves be - seen. - </p> - <p> - Pity sincerely these unfortunates. It is not only pleasant child’s play - that they neglect, but true pleasure, delightful enjoyment, the scraps of - that happiness which is greatly calumniated and accused of not existing - because we expect it to fall from heaven in a solid mass when it lies at - our feet in fine powder. Let us pick up the fragments, and not grumble too - much; every day brings us with its bread its ration of happiness. - </p> - <p> - Let us walk slowly and look down on the ground, searching around us and - seeking in the corners; it is there that Providence has its hiding-places. - </p> - <p> - I have always laughed at those people who rush through life at full speed, - with dilated nostrils, uneasy eyes, and glance rivetted on the horizon. It - seems as though the present scorched their feet, and when you say to them, - “Stop a moment, alight, take a glass of this good old wine, let us chat a - little, laugh a little, kiss your child.” - </p> - <p> - “Impossible,” they reply; “I am expected over there. There I shall - converse, there I shall drink delicious wine, there I shall give expansion - to paternal love, there I shall be happy!” - </p> - <p> - And when they do get “there,” breathless and tired out, and claim the - price of their fatigue, the present, laughing behind its spectacles, says, - “Monsieur, the bank is closed.” - </p> - <p> - The future promises, it is the present that pays, and one should have a - good understanding with the one that keeps the keys of the safe. - </p> - <p> - Why fancy that you are a dupe of Providence? - </p> - <p> - Do you think that Providence has the time to serve up to each of you - perfect happiness, already dressed on a golden plate, and to play music - during your repast into the bargain? Yet that is what a great many people - would like. - </p> - <p> - We must be reasonable, tuck up our sleeves and look after our cooking - ourselves, and not insist that heaven should put itself out of the way to - skim our soup. - </p> - <p> - I used to muse on all this of an evening when my baby was in my arms, and - his moist, regular breathing fanned my hand. I thought of the happy - moments he had already given me, and was grateful to him for them. - </p> - <p> - “How easy it is,” I said to myself, “to be happy, and what a singular - fancy that is of going as far as China in quest of amusement.” - </p> - <p> - My wife was of my opinion, and we would sit for hours by the fire talking - of what we felt. - </p> - <p> - “You, do you see, dear? love otherwise than I do,” she often said to me. - “Papas calculate more. Their love requires a return. They do not really - love their child till the day on which their self-esteem as its father is - flattered. There is something of ownership in it. You can analyze paternal - love, discover its causes, say ‘I love my child because he is so and so, - or so and so.’ With the mother such analysis is impossible, she does not - love her child because he is handsome or ugly, because he does or does not - resemble her, has or has not her tastes. She loves him because she can not - help it, it is a necessity. Maternal love is an innate sentiment in woman. - Paternal love is, in man, the result of circumstances. In her love is an - instinct, in him a calculation, of which, it is true, he is unconscious, - but, in short, it is the outcome of several other feelings.” - </p> - <p> - “That is all very fine; go on,” I said. “We have neither heart nor bowels, - we are fearful savages. What you say is monstrous.” And I stirred the logs - furiously with the tongs. - </p> - <p> - Yet my wife was right, I acknowledged to myself. When a child comes into - the world the affection of the father is not to be compared to that of the - mother. With her it is love already. It seems that she has known him for a - long time, her pretty darling. At his first cry it might be said that she - recognized him. She seems to say, “It is he.” She takes him without the - slightest embarrassment, her movements are natural, she shows no - awkwardness, and in her two twining arms the baby finds a place to fit - him, and falls asleep contentedly in the nest created for him. It would be - thought that woman serves a mysterious apprenticeship to maternity. Man, - on the other hand, is greatly troubled by the birth of a child. The first - wail of the little creature stirs him, but in this emotion there is more - astonishment than love. His affection is not yet born. His heart requires - to reflect and to become accustomed to these fondnesses so new to him. - </p> - <p> - There is an apprenticeship to be served to the business of a father. There - is none to that of a mother. - </p> - <p> - If the father is clumsy morally in his love for his firstborn, it must be - acknowledged that he is so physically in the manifestation of his - fondness. - </p> - <p> - It is only tremblingly, and with contortions and efforts, that he lifts - the slight burden. He is afraid of smashing the youngster, who knows this, - and thence bawls with all the force of his lungs. He expands more - strength, poor man, in lifting up his child than he would in bursting a - door open. If he kisses him, his beard pricks him; if he touches him, his - big fingers cause him some disaster. He has the air of a bear threading a - needle. - </p> - <p> - And yet it must be won, the affection of this poor father, who, at the - outset, meets nothing but misadventures; he must be captivated, captured, - made to have a taste for the business, and not be left too long to play - the part of a recruit. - </p> - <p> - Nature has provided for it, and the father rises to the rank of corporal - the day the baby lisps his first syllables. - </p> - <p> - It is very sweet, the first lisping utterance of a child, and admirably - chosen to move—the “pa-pa” the little creature first murmurs. It is - strange that the first word of a child should express precisely the - deepest and tenderest sentiment of all? - </p> - <p> - Is it not touching to see that the little creature finds of himself the - word that is sure to touch him of whom he stands most in need; the word - that means, “I am yours, love me, give me a place in your heart, open your - arms to me; you see I do not know much as yet, I have only just arrived, - but, already, I think of you, I am one of the family, I shall eat at your - table, and bear your name, pa-pa, pa-pa.” - </p> - <p> - He has discovered at once the most delicate of flatteries, the sweetest of - caresses. He enters on life by a master stroke. - </p> - <p> - Ah! the dear little love! “Pa-pa, pa-pa,” I still hear his faint, - hesitating voice, I can still see his two coral lips open and close. We - were all in a circle around him, kneeling down to be on a level with him. - They kept saying to him, “Say it again, dear, say it again. Where is - papa?” And he, amused by all these people about him, stretched out his - arms, and turned his eyes toward me. - </p> - <p> - I kissed him heartily, and felt that two big tears hindered me from - speaking. - </p> - <p> - From that moment I was a papa in earnest. I was christened. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVIII. BABIES AND PAPAS - </h2> - <p> - When the baby reaches three or four years of age, when his sex shows - itself in his actions, his tastes and his eyes, when he smashes his wooden - horses, cuts open his drums, blows trumpets, breaks the castors off the - furniture, and evinces a decided hostility to crockery; in a word, when he - is a man, it is then that the affection of a father for his son becomes - love. He feels himself invaded by a need of a special fondness, of which - the sweetest recollections of his past life can give no idea. A deep - sentiment envelopes his heart, the countless roots of which sink into it - in all directions. Defects or qualities penetrate and feed on this - sentiment. Thus, we find in paternal love all the weaknesses and all the - greatnesses of humanity. Vanity, abnegation, pride, and disinterestedness - are united together, and man in his entirety appears in the papa. - </p> - <p> - It is on the day which the child becomes a mirror in which you recognize - your features, that the heart is moved and awakens. Existence becomes - duplicated, you are no longer one, but one and a half; you feel your - importance increase, and, in the future of the little creature who belongs - to you, you reconstruct your own past; you resuscitate, and are born again - in him. You say to yourself: “I will spare him such and such a vexation - which I had to suffer, I will clear from his path such and such a stone - over which I stumbled, I will make him happy, and he shall owe all to me; - he shall be, thanks to me, full of talents and attractions.” You give him, - in advance, all that you did not get yourself, and in his future arrange - laurels for a little crown for your own brows. - </p> - <p> - Human weakness, no doubt; but what matter, provided the sentiment that - gives birth to this weakness is the strongest and purest of all? What - matter if a limpid stream springs up between two paving stones? Are we to - be blamed for being generous out of egotism, and for devoting ourselves to - others for reasons of personal enjoyment? - </p> - <p> - Thus, in the father, vanity is the leading string. Say to any father: - “Good heavens! how like you he is!” The poor man may hesitate at saying - yes, but I defy him not to smile. He will say, “Perhaps.... Do you think - so?... Well, perhaps so, side face.” - </p> - <p> - And do not you be mistaken; if he does so, it is that you may reply in - astonishment: “Why, the child is your very image.” - </p> - <p> - He is pleased, and that is easily explained; for is not this likeness a - visible tie between him and his work? Is it not his signature, his - trade-mark, his title-deed, and, as it were, the sanction of his rights? - </p> - <p> - To this physical resemblance there soon succeeds a moral likeness, - charming in quite another way. You are moved to tears when you recognize - the first efforts of this little intelligence to grasp your ideas. Without - check or examination it accepts and feeds on them. By degrees the child - shares your tastes, your habits, your ways. He assumes a deep voice to be - like papa, asks for your braces, sighs before your boots, and sits down - with admiration on your hat. He protects his mamma when he goes out with - her, and scolds the dog, although he is very much afraid of him; all to be - like papa. Have you caught him at meals with his large observant eyes - fixed on you, studying your face with open mouth and spoon in hand, and - imitating his model with an expression of astonishment and respect. Listen - to his long gossips, wandering as his little brain; does he not say: - </p> - <p> - “When I am big like papa I shall have a moustache and a stick like him, - and I shall not be afraid in the dark, because it is silly to be afraid in - the dark when you are big, and I shall say ‘damn it,’ for I shall then be - grown up.” - </p> - <p> - “Baby, what did you say, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “I said just as papa does.” - </p> - <p> - What would you? He is a faithful mirror. You are for him an ideal, a - model, the type of all that is great and strong, handsome and intelligent. - </p> - <p> - Often he makes mistakes, the little dear, but his error is all the more - delicious in its sincerity, and you feel all the more unworthy of such - frank admiration. You console yourself for your own imperfections in - reflecting that he is not conscious of them. - </p> - <p> - The defects of children are almost always harrowed from their father; they - are the consequences of a too literal copy. Provide, then, against them. - Yes, no doubt, but I ask you what strength of mind is not needed by a poor - man to undeceive his baby, to destroy, with a word, his innocent - confidence, by saying to him: “My child, I am not perfect, and I have - faults to be avoided?” - </p> - <p> - This species of devotion on the part of the baby for his father reminds me - of the charming remark of one of my little friends. Crossing the road, the - little fellow caught sight of a policeman. He examined him with respect, - and then turning to me, after a moment’s reflection, said, with an air of - conviction: “Papa is stronger than all the policemen, isn’t he?” - </p> - <p> - If I had answered “No,” our intimacy would have been broken off short. - </p> - <p> - Was it not charming? One can truly say, “Like baby, like papa.” Our life - is the threshold of his. It is with our eyes that he has first seen. - </p> - <p> - Profit, young fathers, by the first moments of candor on the part of your - dear baby, seek to enter his heart when this little heart opens, and - establish yourself in it so thoroughly, that at the moment when the child - is able to judge you, he will love you too well to be severe or to cease - loving. Win his, affection, it is worth the trouble. - </p> - <p> - To be loved all your life by a being you love—that is the problem to - be solved, and toward the solution of which all your efforts should be - directed. To make yourself loved, is to store up treasures of happiness - for the winter. Each year will take away a scrap of your life, contract - the circle of interests and pleasures in which you live; your mind by - degrees will lose its vigor, and ask for rest, and as you live less and - less by the mind, you will live more and more by the heart. The affection - of others which was only a pleasant whet will become a necessary food, and - whatever you may have been, statesmen or artists, soldiers or bankers, - when your heads are white, you will no longer be anything but fathers. - </p> - <p> - But filial love is not born all at once, nor is it necessary it should be. - The voice of nature is a voice rather poetical than truthful. The - affection of children is earned and deserved; it is a consequence, not a - cause, and gratitude is its commencement. At any cost, therefore, your - baby must be made grateful. Do not reckon that he will be grateful to you - for your solicitude, your dreams for his future, the cost of his nursing, - and the splendid dowry that you are amassing for him; such gratitude would - require from his little brain too complicated a calculation, besides - social ideas as yet unknown to him. He will not be thankful to you for the - extreme fondness you have for him; do not be astonished at it, and do not - cry out at his ingratitude. You must first make him understand your - affection; he must appreciate and judge it before responding to it; he - must know his notes before he can play tunes. - </p> - <p> - The little man’s gratitude will at first be nothing but a simple, - egotistical and natural calculation. If you have made him laugh, if you - have amused him, he will want you to begin again, he will hold out his - little arms to you, crying: “Do it again.” And the recollection of the - pleasure you have given him becoming impressed upon his mind, he will soon - say to himself: “No one amuses me so well as papa; it is he who tosses me - into the air, plays at hide-and-seek with me and tells me tales.” So, by - degrees, gratitude will be born in him, as thanks spring to the lips of - him who is made happy. - </p> - <p> - Therefore, learn the art of amusing your child, imitate the crowing of the - cock, and gambol on the carpet, answer his thousand impossible questions, - which are the echo of his endless dreams, and let yourself be pulled by - the beard to imitate a horse. All this is kindness, but also cleverness, - and good King Henry IV did not belie his skilful policy by walking on all - fours on his carpet with his children on his back. - </p> - <p> - In this way, no doubt, your paternal authority will lose something of its - austere prestige, but will gain the deep and lasting influence that - affection gives. Your baby will fear you less but will love you more. - Where is the harm. - </p> - <p> - Do not be afraid of anything; become his comrade, in order to have the - right of remaining his friend. Hide your paternal superiority as the - commissary of police does his sash. Ask with kindness for that which you - might rightly insist upon having, and await everything from his heart if - you have known how to touch it. Carefully avoid such ugly words as - discipline, passive obedience and command; let his submission be gentle to - him, and his obedience resemble kindness. Renounce the stupid pleasure of - imposing your fancies upon him, and of giving orders to prove your - infallibility. - </p> - <p> - Children have a keenness of judgment, and a delicacy of impression which - would not be imagined, unless one has studied them. Justice and equity are - easily born in their minds, for they possess, above all things, positive - logic. Profit by all this. There are unjust and harsh words which remain - graven on a child’s heart, and which he remembers all his life. Reflect - that, in your baby, there is a man whose affection will cheer your old - age; therefore respect him so that he may respect you; and be sure that - there is not a single seed sown in this little heart which will not sooner - or later bear fruit. - </p> - <p> - But there are, you will say, unmanageable children, rebels from the - cradle. Are you sure that the first word they heard in their lives has not - been the cause of their evil propensities? Where there has been rebellion, - there has been clumsy pressure; for I will not believe in natural vice. - Among evil instincts there is always a good one, of which an arm can be - made to combat the others. This requires, I know, extreme kindness, - perfect tact, and unlimited confidence, but the reward is sweet. I think, - therefore, in conclusion, that a father’s first kiss, his first look, his - first caresses, have an immense influence on a child’s life. To love is a - great deal. To know how to love is everything. - </p> - <p> - Even were one not a father, it is impossible to pass by the dear little - ones without feeling touched, and without loving them. Muddy and ragged, - or carefully decked out; running in the roadway and rolling in the dust, - or playing at skipping rope in the gardens of the Tuileries; dabbling - among the ducklings, or building hills of sand beside well-dressed mammas—babies - are charming. In both classes there is the same grace, the same - unembarrassed movements, the same comical seriousness, the same - carelessness as to the effect created, in short, the same charm; the charm - that is called childhood, which one can not understand without loving—which - one finds just the same throughout nature, from the opening flower and the - dawning day to the child entering upon life. - </p> - <p> - A baby is not an imperfect being, an unfinished sketch—he is a man. - Watch him closely, follow every one of his movements; they will reveal to - you a logical sequence of ideas, a marvellous power of imagination, such - as will not again be found at any period of life. There is more real - poetry in the brain of these dear loves than in twenty epics. They are - surprised and unskilled, no doubt; but nothing equals the vigor of these - minds, unexperienced, fresh, simple, sensible of the slightest - impressions, which make their way through the midst of the unknown. - </p> - <p> - What immense labor is gone through by them in a few months! To notice - noises, classify them, understand that some of these sounds are words, and - that these words are thoughts; to find out of themselves alone the meaning - of everything, and distinguish the true from the false, the real from the - imaginary; to correct, by observation, the errors of their too ardent - imagination; to unravel a chaos, and during this gigantic task to render - the tongue supple and strengthen the staggering little legs, in short, to - become a man. If ever there was a curious and touching sight it is that of - this little creature setting out upon the conquest of the world. As yet he - knows neither doubt nor fear, and opens his heart fully. There is - something of Don Quixote about a baby. He is as comic as the Knight, but - he has also a sublime side. - </p> - <p> - Do not laugh too much at the hesitations, the countless gropings, the - preposterous follies of this virgin mind, which a butterfly lifts to the - clouds, to which grains of sand are mountains, which understands the - twittering of birds, ascribes thoughts to flowers, and souls to dolls, - which believes in far-off realms, where the trees are sugar, the fields - chocolate, and the rivers syrup, for which Punch and Mother Hubbard are - real and powerful individuals, a mind which peoples silence and vivifies - night. Do not laugh at his love; his life is a dream, and his mistakes - poetry. - </p> - <p> - This touching poetry which you find in the infancy of man you also find in - the infancy of nations. It is the same. In both cases there is the same - necessity of idealization, the same tendency to personify the unknown. And - it may be said that between Punch and Jupiter, Mother Hubbard and Venus, - there is only a hair’s breadth. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIX. HIS FIRST BREECHES - </h2> - <p> - The great desire in a child is to become a man. But the first symptom of - virility, the first serious step taken in life, is marked by the - assumption of breeches. - </p> - <p> - This first breeching is an event that papa desires and mamma dreads. It - seems to the mother that it is the beginning of her being forsaken. She - looks with tearful eyes at the petticoat laid aside for ever, and murmurs - to herself, “Infancy is over then? My part will soon become a small one. - He will have fresh tastes, new wishes; he is no longer only myself, his - personality is asserting itself; he is some ones boy.” - </p> - <p> - The father, on the contrary, is delighted. He laughs in his moustache to - see the little arching calves peeping out beneath the trousers; he feels - the little body, the outline of which can be clearly made out under the - new garment, and says to himself; “How well he is put together, the - rascal. He will have broad shoulders and strong loins like myself. How - firmly his little feet tread the ground.” Papa would like to see him in - jackboots; for a trifle he would buy him spurs. He begins to see himself - in this little one sprung from him; he looks at him in a fresh light, and, - for the first time, he finds a great charm in calling him “my boy.” - </p> - <p> - As to the baby, he is intoxicated, proud, triumphant, although somewhat - embarrassed as to his arms and legs, and, be it said, without any wish to - offend him, greatly resembling those little poodles we see freshly shaven - on the approach of summer. What greatly disturbed the poor little fellow - is past. How many men of position are there who do not experience similar - inconvenience. He knows very well that breeches, like nobility, render - certain things incumbent on their possessor, that he must now assume new - ways, new gestures, a new tone of voice; he begins to scan out of the - corner of his eye the movements of his papa, who is by no means ill - pleased at this: he clumsily essays a masculine gesture or two; and this - struggle between his past and his present gives him for some time the most - comical air in the world. His petticoats haunt him, and really he is angry - that it is so. - </p> - <p> - Dear first pair of breeches! I love you, because you are a faithful - friend, and I encounter at every step in life you and your train of sweet - sensations. Are you not the living image of the latest illusion caressed - by our vanity? You, young officer, who still measure your moustaches in - the glass, and who have just assumed for the first time the epaulette and - the gold belt, how did you feel when you went downstairs and heard the - scabbard of your sabre go clink-clank on the steps, when with your cap on - one side and your arm akimbo you found yourself in the street, and, an - irresistible impulse urging you on, you gazed at your figure reflected in - the chemist’s bottles? Will you dare to say that you did not halt before - those bottles? First pair of breeches, lieutenant. - </p> - <p> - You will find them again, these breeches, when you are promoted to be - Captain and are decorated. And later on, when, an old veteran with a gray - moustache, you take a fair companion to rejuvenate you, you will again put - them on; but this time the dear creature will help you to wear them. - </p> - <p> - And the day when you will no longer have anything more to do with them, - alas! that day you will be very low, for one’s whole life is wrapped up in - this precious garment. Existence is nothing more than putting on our first - pair of breeches, taking them off, putting them on again, and dying with - eyes fixed on them. - </p> - <p> - Is it the truth that most of our joys have no more serious origin than - those of children? Are we then so simple? Ah! yes, my dear sir, we are - simple to this degree, that we do not think we are. We never quite get rid - of our swaddling clothes; do you see, there is always a little bit - sticking out? There is a baby in every one of us, or, rather, we are only - babies grown big. - </p> - <p> - See the young barrister walking up and down the lobby of the courts. He is - freshly shaven: in the folds of his new gown he hides a pile of documents, - and on his head, in which a world of thought is stirring, is a fine - advocate’s coif, which he bought yesterday, and which this morning he - coquettishly crushed in with a blow from his fist before putting it on. - This young fellow is happy; amid the general din he can distinguish the - echo of his own footsteps, and the ring of his bootheels sounds to him - like the great bell of Notre Dame. In a few minutes he will find an excuse - for descending the great staircase, and crossing the courtyard in costume. - You may be sure that he will not disrobe except to go to dinner. What joy - in these five yards of black stuff; what happiness in this ugly bit of - cloth stretched over stiff cardboard! - </p> - <p> - First pair of breeches—I think I recognize you. - </p> - <p> - And you, Madame, with what happiness do you renew each season the - enjoyment caused by new clothes? Do not say, I beg of you, that such - enjoyments are secondary ones, for their influence is positive upon your - nature and your character. Why, I ask you, did you find so much - captivating logic, so much persuasive eloquence, in the sermon of Father - Paul? Why did you weep on quitting the church, and embrace your husband as - soon as you got home? You know better than I do, Madame, that it was - because on that day you had put on for the first time that little yellow - bonnet, which is a gem, I acknowledge, and which makes you look twice as - pretty. These impressions can scarcely be explained, but they are - invincible. There may be a trifle of childishness in it all, you will - admit, but it is a childishness that can not be got rid of. - </p> - <p> - As a proof of it, the other day, going to St. Thomas’s to hear Father - Nicholas, who is one of our shining lights, you experienced totally - different sentiments; a general feeling of discontent and doubt and - nervous irritability at every sentence of the preacher. Your soul did not - soar heavenward with the same unreserved confidence; you left St. Thomas’s - with your head hot and your feet cold; and you so far forgot yourself as - to say, as you got into your carriage, that Father Nicholas was a Gallican - devoid of eloquence. Your coachman heard it. And, finally, on reaching - home you thought your drawing-room too small and your husband growing too - fat. Why, I again ask you, this string of vexatious impressions? If you - remember rightly, dear Madame, you wore for the first time the day before - yesterday that horrible little violet bonnet, which is such a disgusting - failure. First pair of breeches, dear Madame. - </p> - <p> - Would you like a final example? Observe your husband. Yesterday he went - out in a bad temper—he had breakfasted badly—and lo! in the - evening, at a quarter to seven, he came home from the Chamber joyful and - well-pleased, a smile on his lips, and good-humor in his eye. He kissed - you on the forehead with a certain unconstraint, threw a number of - pamphlets and papers with an easy gesture on the sidetable, sat down to - table, found the soup delicious, and ate joyously. “What is the matter - with my husband?” you asked yourself.... I will explain. Your husband - spoke yesterday for the first time in the building, you know. He said—the - sitting was a noisy one, the Left were threshing out some infernal - questions—he said, during the height of the uproar, and rapping with - his paper-knife on his desk: “But we can not hear!” And as these words - were received on all sides with universal approbation and cries of “Hear, - hear!” he gave his thoughts a more parliamentary expression by adding: - “The voice of the honorable gentleman who is speaking does not reach us.” - It was not much certainly, and the amendment may have been carried all the - same, but after all it was a step; a triumph, to tell the truth, since - your husband has from day to day put off the delivery of his maiden - speech. Behold a happy deputy, a deputy who has just—put on his - first pair of breeches. - </p> - <p> - What matter whether the reason be a serious or a futile one, if your blood - flows faster, if you feel happier, if you are proud of yourself? To win a - great victory or put on a new bonnet, what matters it if this new bonnet - gives you the same joy as a laurel crown? - </p> - <p> - Therefore do not laugh too much at baby if his first pair of breeches - intoxicates him, if, when he wears them, he thinks his shadow longer and - the trees less high. He is beginning his career as a man, dear child, - nothing more. - </p> - <p> - How many things have not people been proud of since the beginning of the - world? They were proud of their noses under Francis the First, of their - perukes under Louis XIV, and later on of their appetites and stoutness. A - man is proud of his wife, his idleness, his wit, his stupidity, the beard - on his chin, the cravat round his neck, the hump on his back. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXX. COUNTRY CHILDREN - </h2> - <p> - I love the baby that runs about under the trees of the Tuileries; I love - the pretty little fair-haired girls with nice white stockings and - unmanageable crinolines. I like to watch the tiny damsels decked out like - reliquaries, and already affecting coquettish and lackadaisical ways. It - seems to me that in each of them I can see thousands of charming faults - already peeping forth. But all these miniature men and women, exchanging - postage stamps and chattering of dress, have something of the effect of - adorable monstrosities on me. - </p> - <p> - I like them as I like a bunch of grapes in February, or a dish of green - peas in December. - </p> - <p> - In the babies’ kingdom, my friend, my favorite is the country baby, - running about in the dust on the highway barefoot and ragged, and - searching for black birds’ and chaffinches’ nests on the outskirts of the - woods. I love his great black wondering eye, which watches you fixedly - from between two locks of un combed hair, his firm flesh bronzed by the - sun, his swarthy forehead, hidden by his hair, his smudged face and his - picturesque breeches kept from falling off by the paternal braces fastened - to a metal button, the gift of a gendarme. - </p> - <p> - Ah! what fine breeches; not very long in the legs, but, then, what room - everywhere else! He could hide away entirely in this immense space which - allows a shirt-tail, escaping through a slit, to wave like a flag. These - breeches preserve a remembrance of all the garments of the family; here is - a piece of maternal petticoat, here a fragment of yellow waistcoat, here a - scrap of blue handkerchief; the whole sewn with a thread that presents the - twofold advantage of being seen from a distance, and of not breaking. - </p> - <p> - But under these patched clothes you can make out a sturdy little figure; - and, besides, what matters the clothes? Country babies are not coquettish; - and when the coach comes down the hill with jingling bells and they rush - after it, stumbling over their neighbors, tumbling with them in the dust, - and rolling into the ditches, what would all these dear little gamins do - in silk stockings? - </p> - <p> - I love them thus because they are wild, taking alarm, and fleeing away at - your approach like the young rabbits you surprise in the morning playing - among the wild thyme. You must have recourse to a thousand subterfuges in - order to triumph over their alarm and gain their confidence. But if at - length, thanks to your prudence, you find yourself in their company, at - the outset play ceases, shouts and noise die away; the little group remain - motionless, scratching their heads, and all their uneasy eyes look fixedly - at you. This is the difficult moment. - </p> - <p> - A sharp word, a stern gesture, may cause an eternal misunderstanding with - them, just as a kind remark, a smile, a caress will soon accomplish their - conquest. And this conquest is worth the trouble, believe me. - </p> - <p> - One of my chief methods of winning them was as follows: I used to take my - watch out of my pocket and look at it attentively. Then I would see my - little people stretch their necks, open their eyes, and come a step - nearer; and it would often happen that the chickens, ducklings, and geese, - which were loitering close by in the grass, imitated their comrades and - drew near too. I then would put my watch to my ear and smile like a man - having a secret whispered to him. In presence of this prodigy my - youngsters could no longer restrain themselves, and would exchange among - themselves those keen, simple, timid, mocking looks, which must have been - seen to be understood. They advanced this time in earnest, and if I - offered to let the boldest listen, by holding out my watch to him, he - would draw back alarmed, although smiling, while the band would break into - an outburst of joy; the ducklings flapping their wings, the white geese - cackling, and the chickens going chk, chk. The game was won. - </p> - <p> - How many times have I not played this little farce, seated under a willow - on the banks of my little stream, which ripples over the white stones, - while the reeds bend tremblingly. The children would crowd round me to - hear the watch, and soon questions broke forth in chorus to an - accompaniment of laughter. They inspected my gaiters, rummaged in my - pockets and leant against my knees. The ducklings glided under my feet, - and the big geese tickled my back. - </p> - <p> - How enjoyable it is not to alarm creatures that tremble at everything. I - would not move for fear of interrupting their joy, and was like a child - who is building a house of cards and who has got to the third story. But I - marked all these happy little faces standing out against the blue sky; I - watched the rays of the sun stealing into the tangles of their fair hair, - or spreading in a patch of gold on their little brown necks; I followed - their gestures full of awkwardness and grace; I sat down on the grass to - be the nearer to them; and if an unfortunate chicken came to grief, - between two daisies, I quickly stretched out my arm and replaced it on its - legs. - </p> - <p> - I assure you that they were all grateful. If one loves these little people - at all, there is one thing that strikes you when you watch them closely. - Ducklings dabbling along the edge of the water or turning head over heels - in their feeding trough, young shoots thrusting forth their tender little - leaves above ground, little chickens running along before their mother - hen, or little men staggering among the grass-all these little creatures - resemble one another. They are the babies of the great mother Nature; they - have common laws, a common physiognomy; they have something inexplicable - about them which is at once comic and graceful, awkward and tender, and - which makes them loved at once; they are relations, friends, comrades, - under the same flag. This pink and white flag, let us salute it as it - passes, old graybeards that we are. It is blessed, and is called - childhood. - </p> - <p> - All babies are round, yielding, weak, timid, and soft to the touch as a - handful of wadding. Protected by cushions of good rosy flesh or by a - coating of soft down, they go rolling, staggering, dragging along their - little unaccustomed feet, shaking in the air their plump hands or - featherless wing. See them stretched haphazard in the sun without - distinction of species, swelling themselves with milk or meal, and dare to - say that they are not alike. Who knows whether all these children of - nature have not a common point of departure, if they are not brothers of - the same origin? - </p> - <p> - Since men with green spectacles have existed, they have amused themselves - with ticketing the creatures of this world. These latter are arranged, - divided into categories and classified, as though by a careful apothecary - who wants everything about him in order. It is no slight matter to stow - away each one in the drawer that suits him, and I have heard that certain - subjects still remain on the counter owing to their belonging to two - show-cases at once. - </p> - <p> - And what proves to me, indeed, that these cases exist? What is there to - assure me that the whole world is not one family, the members of which - only differ by trifles which we are pleased to regard as everything? - </p> - <p> - Have you fully established the fact of these drawers and compartments? - Have you seen the bars of these imaginary cages in which you imprison - kingdoms and species? Are there not infinite varieties which escape your - analysis, and are, as it were, the unknown links uniting all the particles - of the animated world? Why say, “For these eternity, for those - annihilation?” - </p> - <p> - Why say, “This is the slave, that is the sovereign?” Strange boldness for - men who are ignorant of almost everything! - </p> - <p> - Man, animal or plant, the creature vibrates, suffers or enjoys—exists - and encloses in itself the trace of the same mystery. What assures me that - this mystery, which is everywhere the same, is not the sign of a similar - relationship, is not the sign of a great law of which we are ignorant? - </p> - <p> - I am dreaming, you will say. And what does science do herself when she - reaches that supreme point at which magnifying glasses become obscure and - compasses powerless? It dreams, too; it supposes. Let us, too, suppose - that the tree is a man, rough skinned dreamy and silent, who loves, too, - after his fashion and vibrates to his very roots when some evening a warm - breeze, laden with the scents of the plain, blows through his green locks - and overwhelms him with kisses. No, I do not accept the hypothesis of a - world made for us. Childish pride, which would be ridiculous did not its - very simplicity lend it something poetic, alone inspires it. Man is but - one of the links of an immense chain, of the two ends of which we are - ignorant. [See Mark Twain’s essay: ‘What is Man.’ D.W.] - </p> - <p> - Is it not consoling to fancy that we are not an isolated power to which - the remainder of the world serves as a pedestal, that one is not a - licensed destroyer, a poor, fragile tyrant, whom arbitrary decrees - protect, but a necessary note of an infinite harmony? To fancy that the - law of life is the same in the immensity of space and irradiates worlds as - it irradiates cities and as it irradiates ant-hills. To fancy that each - vibration in ourselves is the echo of another vibration. To fancy a sole - principle, a primordial axiom, to think the universe envelops us as a - mother clasps her child in her two arms; and say to one’s self, “I belong - to it and it to me; it would cease to be without me. I should not exist - without it.” To see, in short, only the divine unity of laws, which could - not be nonexistent, where others have only seen a ruling fancy or an - individual caprice. - </p> - <p> - It is a dream. Perhaps so, but I have often dreamed it when watching the - village children rolling on the fresh grass among the ducklings. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXI. AUTUMN - </h2> - <p> - Do you know the autumn, dear reader, autumn away in the country with its - squalls, its long gusts, its yellow leaves whirling in the distance, its - sodden paths, its fine sunsets, pale as an invalid’s smile, its pools of - water in the roadway; do you know all these? If you have seen all these - they are certainly not indifferent to you. One either detests or else - loves them. - </p> - <p> - I am of the number of those who love them, and I would give two summers - for a single autumn. I adore the big blazing fires; I like to take refuge - in the chimney corner with my dog between my wet gaiters. I like to watch - the tall flames licking the old ironwork and lighting up the black depths. - You hear the wind whistling in the stable, the great door creak, the dog - pull at his chain and howl, and, despite the noise of the forest trees - which are groaning and bending close by, you can make out the lugubrious - cawings of a flock of rooks struggling against the storm. The rain beats - against the little panes; and, stretching your legs toward the fire, you - think of those without. You think of the sailors, of the old doctor - driving his little cabriolet, the hood of which sways to and fro as the - wheels sink into the ruts, and Cocotte neighs in the teeth of the wind. - You think of the two gendarmes, with the rain streaming from their cocked - hats; you see them, chilled and soaked, making their way along the path - among the vineyards, bent almost double in the saddle, their horses almost - covered with their long blue cloaks. You think of the belated sportsman - hastening across the heath, pursued by the wind like a criminal by - justice, and whistling to his dog, poor beast, who is splashing through - the marshland. Unfortunate doctor, unfortunate gendarmes, unfortunate - sportsman! - </p> - <p> - And all at once the door opens and Baby rushes in exclaiming: “Papa, - dinner is ready.” Poor doctor! poor gendarmes! - </p> - <p> - “What is there for dinner?” - </p> - <p> - The cloth was as white as snow in December, the plate glittered in the - lamplight, the steam from the soup rose up under the lamp-shade, veiling - the flame and spreading an appetizing smell of cabbage. Poor doctor! poor - gendarmes! - </p> - <p> - The doors were well closed, the curtains carefully drawn. Baby hoisted - himself on to his tall chair and stretched out his neck for his napkin to - be tied round it, exclaiming at the same time with his hands in the air: - “Nice cabbage soup.” And, smiling to myself, I said: “The youngster has - all my tastes.” - </p> - <p> - Mamma soon came, and cheerfully pulling off her tight gloves: “There, sir, - I think, is something that you are very fond of,” she said to me. - </p> - <p> - It was a pheasant day, and instinctively I turned round a little to catch - a glimpse on the sideboard of a dusty bottle of my old Chambertin. - Pheasant and Chambertin! Providence created them for one another and my - wife has never separated them. - </p> - <p> - “Ah! my children, how comfortable you are here,” said I, and every one - burst out laughing. Poor gendarmes! poor doctor! - </p> - <p> - Yes, yes, I am very fond of the autumn, and my darling boy liked it as - well as I did, not only on account of the pleasure there is in gathering - round a fine large fire, but also on account of the squalls themselves, - the wind and the dead leaves. There is a charm in braving them. How many - times we have both gone out for a walk through the country despite cold - and threatening clouds. We were wrapped up and shod with thick boots; I - took his hand and we started off at haphazard. He was five years old then - and trotted along like a little man. Heavens! it is five-and-twenty years - ago. We went up the narrow lane strewn with damp black leaves; the tall - gray poplars stripped of their foliage allowed a view of the horizon, and - we could see in the distance, under a violet sky streaked with cold and - yellowish bands, the low thatched roofs and the red chimneys from which - issued little bluish clouds blown away by the wind. Baby jumped for joy, - holding with his hand his hat which threatened to fly off, and looking at - me with eyes glittering through tears brought into them by the breeze. His - cheeks were red with cold, and quite at the tip of his nose hung ready to - drop a small transparent pearl. But he was happy, and we skirted the wet - meadows overflowed by the swollen river. No more reeds, no more water - lilies, no more flowers on the banks. Some cows, up to mid-leg in damp - herbage, were grazing quietly. - </p> - <p> - At the bottom of a ditch, near a big willow trunk, two little girls were - huddled together under a big cloak wrapped about them. They were watching - their cows, their half bare feet in split wooden shoes and their two - little chilled faces under the large hood. From time to time large puddles - of water in which the pale sky was reflected barred the way, and we - remained for a moment beside these miniature lakes, rippling beneath the - north wind, to see the leaves float on them. They were the last. We - watched them detach themselves from the tops of the tall trees, whirl - through the air and settle in the puddles. I took my little boy in my arms - and we went through them as we could. At the boundaries of the brown and - stubble fields was an overturned plough or an abandoned harrow. The - stripped vines were level with the ground, and their damp and knotty - stakes were gathered in large piles. - </p> - <p> - I remember that one day in one of these autumnal walks, as we gained the - top of the hill by a broken road which skirts the heath and leads to the - old bridge, the wind suddenly began to blow furiously. My darling, - overwhelmed by it, caught hold of my leg and sheltered himself in the - skirt of my coat. My dog, for his part, stiffening his four legs, with his - tail between the hind ones and his ears waving in the wind, looked up at - me too. I turned, the horizon was as gloomy as the interior of a church. - Huge black clouds were sweeping toward us, and the trees were bending and - groaning on every side under the torrents of rain driven before the - squall. I only had time to catch up my little man, who was crying with - fright, and to run and squeeze myself against a hedge which was somewhat - protected by the old willows. I opened my umbrella, crouched down behind - it, and, unbuttoning my big coat, stuffed Baby inside. He clung closely to - me. My dog placed himself between my legs, and Baby, thus sheltered by his - two friends, began to smile from the depths of his hiding-place. I looked - at him and said: - </p> - <p> - “Well, little man, are you all right?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, dear papa.” - </p> - <p> - I felt his two arms clasp round my waist—I was much thinner than I - am now—and I saw that he was grateful to me for acting as a roof to - him. Through the opening he stretched out his little lips and I bent mine - down. - </p> - <p> - “Is it still raining outside, papa?” - </p> - <p> - “It will soon be over.” - </p> - <p> - “Already, I am so comfortable inside you.” - </p> - <p> - How all this stays in your heart. It is perhaps silly to relate these - little joys, but how sweet it is to recall them. - </p> - <p> - We reached home as muddy as two water-dogs and we were well scolded. But - when evening had come and Baby was in bed and I went to kiss him and - tickle him a little, as was our custom, he put his two little arms round - my neck and whispered: “When it rains we will go again, eh?” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXII. HE WOULD HAVE BEEN FORTY NOW - </h2> - <p> - When you have seen your child born, have watched his first steps in life, - have noted him smile and weep, have heard him call you papa as he - stretches out his little arms to you, you think that you have become - acquainted with all the joys of paternity, and, as though satiated with - these daily joys that are under your hand, you already begin to picture - those of the morrow. You rush ahead, and explore the future; you are - impatient, and gulp down present happiness in long draughts, instead of - tasting it drop by drop. But Baby’s illness suffices to restore you to - reason. - </p> - <p> - To realize the strength of the ties that bind you to him, it is necessary - to have feared to see them broken; to know that a river is deep, you must - have been on the point of drowning in it. - </p> - <p> - Recall the morning when, on drawing aside the curtain of his bed, you saw - on the pillow his little face, pale and thin. His sunken eyes, surrounded - by a bluish circle, were half closed. You met his glance, which seemed to - come through a veil; he saw you, without smiling at you. You said, “Good - morning,” and he did not answer. His face only expressed dejection and - weakness, it was no longer that of your child. He gave a kind of sigh, and - his heavy eyelids drooped. You took his hands, elongated, transparent, and - with colorless nails; they were warm and moist. You kissed them, those - poor little hands, but there was no responsive thrill to the contact of - your lips. Then you turned round, and saw your wife weeping behind you. It - was at that moment when you felt yourself shudder from head to foot, and - that the idea of a possible woe seized on you, never more to leave you. - Every moment you kept going back to the bed and raising the curtains - again, hoping perhaps that you had not seen aright, or that a miracle had - taken place; but you withdrew quickly, with a lump in your throat. And yet - you strove to smile, to make him smile himself; you sought to arouse in - him the wish for something, but in vain; he remained motionless, - exhausted, not even turning round, indifferent to all you said, to - everything, even yourself. - </p> - <p> - And what is all that is needed to strike down this little creature, to - reduce him to this pitch? Only a few hours. What, is that all that is - needed to put an end to him? Five minutes. Perhaps. - </p> - <p> - You know that life hangs on a thread in this frail body, so little fitted - to suffer. You feel that life is only a breath, and say to yourself: - “Suppose this one is his last.” A little while back he was complaining. - Already he does so no longer. It seems as though someone is clasping him, - bearing him away, tearing him from your arms. Then you draw near him, and - clasp him to you almost involuntarily, as though to give him back some of - your own life. His bed is damp with fever sweats, his lips are losing - their color. The nostrils of his little nose, grown sharp and dry, rise - and fall. His mouth remains wide open. It is that little rosy mouth which - used to laugh so joyfully, those are the two lips that used to press - themselves to yours, and... all the joys, the bursts of laughter, the - follies, the endless chatter, all the bygone happiness, flock to your - recollection at the sound of that gasping, breathing, while big hot tears - fall slowly from your eyes. Poor wee man. Your hand seeks his little legs, - and you dare not touch his chest, which you have kissed so often, for fear - of encountering that ghastly leanness which you foresee, but the contact - of which would make you break out in sobs. And then, at a certain moment, - while the sunlight was flooding the room, you heard a deeper moan, - resembling a cry. You darted forward; his face was contracted, and he - looked toward you with eyes that no longer saw. And then all was calm, - silent and motionless, while his hollow cheeks became yellow and - transparent as the amber of his necklaces. - </p> - <p> - The recollection of that moment lasts for a lifetime in the hearts of - those who have loved; and even in old age, when time has softened your - grief, when other joys and other sorrows have filled your days, his dying - bed still appears to you when sitting of an evening beside the fire. You - see amid the sparkling flames the room of the lost child, the table with - the drinks, the bottles, the arsenal of illness, the little garments, - carefully folded, that waited for him so long, his toys abandoned in a - corner. You even see the marks of his little fingers on the wall paper, - and the zigzags he made with his pencil on the door; you see the corner - scribbled over with lines and dates, in which he was measured every month, - you see him playing, running, rushing up in a perspiration to throw - himself into your arms, and, at the same time, you also see him fixing his - glazing eyes on you, or motionless and cold under a white sheet, wet with - holy water. - </p> - <p> - Does not this recollection recur to you sometimes, Grandma, and do not you - still shed a big tear as you say to yourself: “He would have been forty - now?” Do we not know, dear old lady, whose heart still bleeds, that at the - bottom of your wardrobe, behind your jewels, beside packets of yellow - letters, the handwriting of which we will not guess at, there is a little - museum of sacred relics—the last shoes in which he played about on - the gravel the day he complained of being cold, the remains of some broken - toys, a dried sprig of box, a little cap, his last, in a triple wrapper, - and a thousand trifles that are a world to you, poor woman, that are the - fragments of your broken heart? - </p> - <p> - The ties that unite children to parents are unloosed. Those which unite - parents to children are broken. In one case, it is the past that is wiped - out; in the other, the future that is rent away. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXIII. CONVALESCENCE - </h2> - <p> - But, my patient reader, forget what have just said. Baby does not want to - leave you, he does not want to die, poor little thing, and if you want a - proof of it, watch him very closely; there, he smiles. - </p> - <p> - A very faint smile like those rays of sunlight that steal between two - clouds at the close of a wet winter. You rather guess at than see this - smile, but it is enough to warm your heart. The cloud begins to disperse, - he sees you, he hears you, he knows that papa is there, your child is - restored to you. His glance is already clearer. Call him softly. He wants - to turn, but he can not yet, and for his sole answer his little hand, - which is beginning to come to life again, moves and crumples the sheet. - Just wait a little, poor impatient father, and tomorrow, on his awakening, - he will say “Papa.” You will see what good it will do you, this “Papa,” - faint as a mere breath, this first scarcely intelligible sign of a return - to life. It will seem to you that your child has been born again a second - time. - </p> - <p> - He will still suffer, he will have further crises, the storm does not - become a calm all at once, but he will be able now to rest his head on - your shoulder, nestle in your arms among the blankets; he will be able to - complain, to ask help and relief of you with eye and voice; you will, in - short, be reunited, and you will be conscious that he suffers less by - suffering on your knees. You will hold his hand in yours, and if you seek - to go away he will look at you and grasp your finger. How many things are - expressed in this grasp. Dear sir, have you experienced it? - </p> - <p> - “Papa, do stay with me, you help to make me better; when I am alone I am - afraid of the pain. Hold me tightly to you, and I shall not suffer so - much.” - </p> - <p> - The more your protection is necessary to another the more you enjoy - granting it. What is it then when this other is a second self, dearer than - the first. With convalescence comes another childhood, so to speak. Fresh - astonishments, fresh joys, fresh desires come one by one as health is - restored. But what is most touching and delightful, is that delicate - coaxing by the child who still suffers and clings to you, that abandonment - of himself to you, that extreme weakness that gives him wholly over to - you. At no period of his life has he so enjoyed your presence, has he - taken refuge so willingly in your dressing-gown, has he listened more - attentively to your stories and smiled more intelligently at your - merriment. Is it true, as it seems to you, that he has never been more - charming? Or is it simply that threatened danger has caused you to set a - higher value on his caresses, and that you count over your treasures with - all the more delight because you have been all but ruined? - </p> - <p> - But the little man is up again. Beat drums; sound trumpets; come out of - your hiding-places, broken horses; stream in, bright sun; a song from you - little birds. The little king comes to life again—long live the - king! And you, your majesty, come and kiss your father. - </p> - <p> - What is singular is that this fearful crisis you have gone through becomes - in some way sweet to you; you incessantly recur to it, you speak of it, - you speak of it and cherish it in your mind; and, like the companions of - AEneas, you seek by the recollection of past dangers to increase the - present joy. - </p> - <p> - “Do you remember,” you say, “the day when he was so ill? Do you remember - his dim eyes, his poor; thin, little arm, and his pale lips? And that - morning the doctor went away after clasping our hands?” - </p> - <p> - It is only Baby who does not remember anything. He only feels an - overpowering wish to restore his strength, fill out his cheeks and recover - his calves. - </p> - <p> - “Papa, are we going to have dinner soon, eh, papa?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, it is getting dusk, wait a little.” - </p> - <p> - “But, papa, suppose we don’t wait?” - </p> - <p> - “In twenty minutes, you little glutton.” - </p> - <p> - “Twenty, is twenty a great many? If you eat twenty cutlets would it make - you ill? But with potatoes, and jam, and soup, and—is it still - twenty minutes?” - </p> - <p> - Then again: “Papa, when there is beef with sauce,” he has his mouth full - of it, “red tomato sauce.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, dear, well?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, a bullock is much bigger than what is on the dish; why don’t they - bring the rest of the bullock? I could eat it all and then some bread and - then some haricots, and then—” - </p> - <p> - He is insatiable when he has his napkin under his chin, and it is a - happiness to see the pleasure he feels in working his jaws. His little - eyes glisten, his cheeks grow red; what he puts away into his little - stomach it is impossible to say, and so busy is he that he has scarcely - time to laugh between two mouthfuls. Toward dessert his ardor slackens, - his look becomes more and more languid, his fingers relax and his eyes - close from time to time. - </p> - <p> - “Mamma, I should like to go to bed,” he says, rubbing his eyes. Baby is - coming round. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXIV. FAMILY TIES - </h2> - <p> - The exhilaration of success and the fever of life’s struggle take a man - away from his family, or cause him to live amid it as a stranger, and soon - he no longer finds any attractions in the things which charmed him at the - outset. But let ill luck come, let the cold wind blow rather strongly, and - he falls back upon himself, he seeks near him something to support him in - his weakness, a sentiment to replace his vanished dream, and he bends - toward his child, he takes his wife’s hand and presses it. He seems to - invite these two to share his burden. Seeing tears in the eyes of those he - loves, his own seem diminished to that extent. It would seem that moral - suffering has the same effect as physical pain. The drowning wretch - clutches at straws; in the same way, the man whose heart is breaking - clasps his wife and children to him. He asks in turn for help, protection, - and comfort, and it is a touching thing to see the strong shelter himself - in the arms of the weak and recover courage in their kiss. Children have - the instinct of all this; and the liveliest emotion they are capable of - feeling is that which they experience on seeing their father weep. - </p> - <p> - Recall, dear reader, your most remote recollections, seek in that past - which seems to you all the clearer the farther you are removed from it. - Have you ever seen your father come home and sit down by the fire with a - tear in his eye? Then you dared not draw near him at first, so deeply did - you feel his grief. How unhappy he must be for his eyes to be wet. Then - you felt that a tie attached you to this poor man, that his misfortune - struck you too, that a part of it was yours, and that you were smitten - because your father was. And no one understands better than the child this - joint responsibility of the family to which he owes everything. You have - felt all this; your heart has swollen as you stood silent in the corner, - and sobs have broken forth as, without knowing why, you have held out your - arms toward him. He has turned, he has understood all, he has not been - able to restrain his grief any further, and you have remained clasped in - one another’s arms, father, mother, and child, without saying anything, - but gazing at and understanding one another. Did you, however, know the - cause of the poor man’s grief? - </p> - <p> - Not at all. - </p> - <p> - This is why filial love and paternal love have been poetized, why the - family is styled holy. It is because one finds therein the very source of - that need of loving, helping and sustaining one another, which from time - to time spreads over the whole of society, but in the shape of a weakened - echo. It is only from time to time in history that we see a whole nation - gather together, retire within itself and experience the same thrill. - </p> - <p> - A frightful convulsion is needed to make a million men hold out their - hands to one another and understand one another at a glance; it needs a - superhuman effort for the family to become the nation, and for the - boundaries of the hearth to extend to the frontiers. - </p> - <p> - A complaint, a pang, a tear, is enough to make a man, a woman, and a - child, blend their hearts together and feel that they are but one. - </p> - <p> - Laugh at marriage; the task is easy. All human contracts are tainted with - error, and an error is always smiled at by those who are not the victims - of it. There are husbands, it is certain; and when we see a man tumble - down, even if he knocks his brains out, our first impulse it to burst out - laughing. Hence the great and eternal mirth that greets Sganarelle. - </p> - <p> - But search to the bottom and behold that beneath all these trifles, - beneath all this dust of little exploded vanities, ridiculous mistakes and - comical passions, is hidden the very pivot of society. Verify that in this - all is for the best, since this family sentiment, which is the basis of - society, is also its consolation and joy. - </p> - <p> - The honor of our flag, the love of country, and all that urges a man to - devote himself to something or some one not himself, are derived from this - sentiment, and in it, you may assert, is to be found the source whence - flow the great streams at which the human heart quenches its thirst. - </p> - <p> - Egotism for three, you say. What matter, if this egotism engenders - devotion? - </p> - <p> - Will you reproach the butterfly with having been a caterpillar? - </p> - <p> - Do not accuse me in all this of exaggeration, or of poetic exaltation. - </p> - <p> - Yes, family life is very often calm and commonplace, the stock-pot that - figures on its escutcheon has not been put there without reason, I admit. - To the husband who should come and say to me: “Sir, for two days running I - have fallen asleep by the fireside,” I should reply: “You are too lazy, - but after all I understand you.” - </p> - <p> - I also understand that Baby’s trumpet is noisy, that articles of jewellery - are horribly dear, that lace flounces and sable trimmings are equally so, - that balls are wearisome, that Madame has her vapors, her follies, - exigencies; I understand, in short, that a man whose career is prosperous - looks upon his wife and child as two stumbling blocks. - </p> - <p> - But I am waiting for the happy man, for the moment when his forehead will - wrinkle, when disappointment will descend upon his head like a leaden - skull-cap, and when picking up the two blocks he has cursed he will make - two crutches of them. - </p> - <p> - I admit that Alexander the Great, Napoleon the First, and all the - demi-gods of humanity, have only felt at rare intervals the charm of being - fathers and husbands; but we other poor little men, who are less occupied, - must be one or the other. - </p> - <p> - I do not believe in the happy old bachelor; I do not believe in the - happiness of all those who, from stupidity or calculation, have withdrawn - themselves from the best of social laws. A great deal has been said on - this subject, and I do not wish to add to the voluminous documents in this - lawsuit. Acknowledge frankly all you who have heard the cry of your - new-born child and felt your heart tingle like a glass on the point of - breaking, unless you are idiots, acknowledge that you said to yourselves: - “I am in the right. Here, and here alone, lies man’s part. I am entering - on a path, beaten and worn, but straight; I shall cross the weary downs, - but each step will bring me nearer the village spire. I am not wandering - through life, I am marching on, I stir with my feet the dust in which my - father has planted his. My child, on the same road, will find the traces - of my footsteps, and, perhaps, on seeing that I have not faltered, will - say: ‘Let me act like my old father and not lose myself in the ploughed - land.’” - </p> - <p> - If the word holy has still a meaning, despite the uses it has been put to, - I do not see that a better use can be made of it than by placing it beside - the word family. - </p> - <p> - They speak of progress, justice, general well-being, infallible policies, - patriotism, devotion. I am for all these good things, but this bright - horizon is summed up in these three words: “Love your neighbor,” and this - is precisely, in my opinion, the thing they forget to teach. - </p> - <p> - To love your neighbor is as simple as possible, but the mischief is that - you do not meet with this very natural feeling. There are people who will - show you the seed in the hollow of their hand, but even those who deal in - this precious grain are the last to show you it in leaf. - </p> - <p> - Well, my dear reader, this little plant which should spring up like the - poppies in the wheat, this plant which has never been seen growing higher - than watercress, but which should overtop the oaks, this undiscoverable - plant, I know where it grows. - </p> - <p> - It grows beside the domestic hearth, between the shovel and tongs; it is - there that it perpetuates itself, and if it still exists, it is to the - family that we owe it. I love pretty nearly all the philanthropists and - saviours of mankind; but I only believe in those who have learned to love - others by embracing their own children. - </p> - <p> - Mankind can not be remodelled to satisfy the wants of humanitarian - theories; man is egotistical, and he loves, above all, those who are about - him. This is the natural human sentiment, and it is this which must be - enlarged, extended and cultivated. In a word, it is in family love that is - comprised love of country and consequently of humanity. It is from fathers - that citizens are made. - </p> - <p> - Man has not twenty prime movers, but only one in his heart; do not argue - but profit by it. - </p> - <p> - Affection is catching. Love between three—father, mother, and child—when - it is strong, soon requires space; it pushes back the walls of the house, - and by degrees invites the neighbors. The important thing, then, is to - give birth to this love between three; for it is madness, I am afraid, to - thrust the whole human species all at once on a man’s heart. Such large - mouthfuls are not to be swallowed at a gulp, nor without preparation. - </p> - <p> - This is why I have always thought that with the numerous sous given for - the redemption of the little Chinese, we might in France cause the fire to - sparkle on hearths where it sparkles no longer, make many eyes grow - brighter round a tureen of smoking soup, warm chilled mothers, bring - smiles to the pinched faces of children, and give pleasure and happiness - to poor discouraged ones on their return home. - </p> - <p> - What a number of hearty kisses you might have brought about with all these - sous, and, in consequence, what a sprinkling with the watering-pot for the - little plant you wot of. - </p> - <p> - “But then what is to become of the redemption of the little Chinese?” - </p> - <p> - We will think of this later; we must first know how to love our own before - we are able to love those of others. - </p> - <p> - No doubt, this is brutal and egotistical, but you can not alter it; it is - out of small faults that you build up great virtues. And, after all, do - not grumble, this very vanity is the foundation stone of that great - monument—at present still propped up by scaffolding—which is - called Society. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS: - - A ripe husband, ready to fall from the tree - Affection is catching - All babies are round, yielding, weak, timid, and soft - And I shall say ‘damn it,’ for I shall then be grown up - Answer “No,” but with a little kiss which means “Yes” - As regards love, intention and deed are the same - But she thinks she is affording you pleasure - Clumsily, blew his nose, to the great relief of his two arms - Do not seek too much - Emotion when one does not share it - First impression is based upon a number of trifles - He Would Have Been Forty Now - Hearty laughter which men affect to assist digestion - How many things have not people been proud of - How rich we find ourselves when we rummage in old drawers - Husband who loves you and eats off the same plate is better - I would give two summers for a single autumn - I do not accept the hypothesis of a world made for us - I came here for that express purpose - I am not wandering through life, I am marching on - Ignorant of everything, undesirous of learning anything - In his future arrange laurels for a little crown for your own - It (science) dreams, too; it supposes - It is silly to blush under certain circumstances - Learned to love others by embracing their own children - Life is not so sweet for us to risk ourselves in it singlehanded - Love in marriage is, as a rule, too much at his ease - Man is but one of the links of an immense chain - Rather do not give—make yourself sought after - Reckon yourself happy if in your husband you find a lover - Recollection of past dangers to increase the present joy - Respect him so that he may respect you - Shelter himself in the arms of the weak and recover courage - Sometimes like to deck the future in the garments of the past - The heart requires gradual changes - The future that is rent away - The recollection of that moment lasts for a lifetime - The future promises, it is the present that pays - Their love requires a return - There are pious falsehoods which the Church excuses - Ties that unite children to parents are unloosed - Ties which unite parents to children are broken - To be able to smoke a cigar without being sick - To love is a great deal—To know how to love is everything - We are simple to this degree, that we do not think we are - When time has softened your grief - Why mankind has chosen to call marriage a man-trap -</pre> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Monsieur, Madame and Bebe, Complete -by Gustave Droz - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONSIEUR, MADAME AND BEBE, *** - -***** This file should be named 3926.txt or 3926.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/2/3926/ - -Produced by David Widger - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - https://www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - -</pre> - <p> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </p> - </body> -</html> diff --git a/old/old-2025-02-20/3926.txt b/old/old-2025-02-20/3926.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 514fa30..0000000 --- a/old/old-2025-02-20/3926.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8464 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Monsieur, Madame and Bebe, Complete, by Gustave Droz - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Monsieur, Madame and Bebe, Complete - -Author: Gustave Droz - -Last Updatee: March 2, 2009 -Release Date: October 5, 2006 [EBook #3926] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONSIEUR, MADAME AND BEBE, *** - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - - -MONSIEUR, MADAME AND BEBE - -By Gustave Droz - - - -Antoine-Gustave Droz was born in Paris, June 9, 1832. He was the son of -Jules-Antoine Droz, a celebrated French sculptor, and grand son of Jean -Pierre Droz, master of the mint and medalist under the Directoire. The -family is of Swiss origin. Gustave entered L'Ecole des Beaux Arts and -became quite a noted artist, coming out in the Salon of 1857 with the -painting 'L'Obole de Cesar'. He also exhibited a little later various -'tableaux de genre': 'Buffet de chemin de fer' (1863), 'A la Sacristie' -and 'Un Succes de Salon' (1864), 'Monsieur le Cure, vous avez Raison' -and 'Un Froid Sec' (1865). - -Toward this period, however, he abandoned the art of painting and -launched on the career of an author, contributing under the name of -Gustave Z.... to 'La Vie Parisienne'. His articles found great favor, -he showed himself an exquisite raconteur, a sharp observer of intimate -family life, and a most penetrating analyst. The very gallant sketches, -later reunited in 'Monsieur, Madame, et Bebe' (1866), and crowned by the -Academy, have gone through many editions. 'Entre nous' (1867) and 'Une -Femme genante', are written in the same humorous strain, and procured -him many admirers by the vivacious and sparkling representations of -bachelor and connubial life. However, Droz knows very well where to draw -the line, and has formally disavowed a lascivious novel published in -Belgium--'Un Ete a la campagne', often, but erroneously, attributed to -him. - -It seems that Gustave Droz later joined the pessimistic camp. His works, -at least, indicate other qualities than those which gained for him the -favor of the reading public. He becomes a more ingenious romancer, a -more delicate psychologist. If some of his sketches are realistic, we -must consider that realism is not intended 'pour les jeunes filles du -pensiannat'. - -Beside the works mentioned in the above text, Gustave Droz wrote: 'Le -Cahier bleu de Mademoiselle Cibot (1868), 'Auteur d'une Source (1869), -'Un Paquet de Lettres' (1870), 'Babolain' (1872), 'Les Etangs' (1875), -'Tristesses et Sourires (1883), and L'Enfant (1884). - -He died in Paris, October 22, 1895. - - CAMILLE DOUCET - de l'Academie Francaise. - - - - - -BOOK 1. - - - - -CHAPTER I. MY FIRST SUPPER PARTY - -The devil take me if I can remember her name, notwithstanding I dearly -loved her, the charming girl! - -It is strange how rich we find ourselves when we rummage in old drawers; -how many forgotten sighs, how many pretty little trinkets, broken, -old-fashioned, and dusty, we come across. But no matter. I was now -eighteen, and, upon my honor, very unsuspecting. It was in the arms -of that dear--I have her name at the tip of my tongue, it ended in -"ine"--it was in her arms, the dear child, that I murmured my first -words of love, while I was close to her rounded shoulder, which had a -pretty little mole, where I imprinted my first kiss. I adored her, and -she returned my affection. - -I really think I should have married her, and that cheerfully, I can -assure you, if it had not been that on certain details of moral weakness -her past life inspired me with doubts, and her present with uneasiness. -No man is perfect; I was a trifle jealous. - -Well, one evening--it was Christmas eve--I called to take her to supper -with a friend of mine whom I esteemed much, and who became an examining -magistrate, I do not know where, but he is now dead. - -I went upstairs to the room of the sweet girl, and was quite surprised -to find her ready to start. She had on, I remember, a square-cut bodice, -a little too low to my taste, but it became her so well that when she -embraced me I was tempted to say: "I say, pet, suppose we remain here"; -but she took my arm, humming a favorite air of hers, and we soon found -ourselves in the street. - -You have experienced, have you not, this first joy of the youth who at -once becomes a man when he has his sweetheart on his arm? He trembles at -his boldness, and scents on the morrow the paternal rod; yet all these -fears are dissipated in the presence of the ineffable happiness of the -moment. He is free, he is a man, he loves, he is loved, he is conscious -that he is taking a forward step in life. He would like all Paris to see -him thus, yet he is afraid of being recognized; he would give his little -finger to grow three hairs on his upper lip, and to have a wrinkle on -his brow, to be able to smoke a cigar without being sick, and to polish -off a glass of punch without coughing. - -When we reached my friend's, the aforesaid examining magistrate, we -found a numerous company; from the anteroom we could hear bursts of -laughter, noisy conversation, accompanied by the clatter of plate and -crockery, which was being placed upon the table. I was a little excited; -I knew that I was the youngest of the party, and I was afraid of -appearing awkward on that night of revelry. I said to myself: "Old -boy, you must face the music, do the grand, and take your liquor like a -little man; your sweetheart is here, and her eyes are fixed on you." The -idea, however, that I might be ill next morning did indeed trouble me; -in my mind's eye, I saw my poor mother bringing me a cup of tea, and -weeping over my excesses, but I chased away all such thoughts and really -all went well up till suppertime. My sweetheart had been pulled about a -little, no doubt; one or two men had even kissed her under my very nose, -but I at once set down these details to the profit and loss column, and -in all sincerity I was proud and happy. - -"My young friends," suddenly exclaimed our host, "it is time to use your -forks vigorously. Let us adjourn to the diningroom." - -Joyful shouts greeted these words, and, amid great disorder, the guests -arranged themselves round the table, at each end of which I noticed -two plates filled up with those big cigars of which I could not smoke a -quarter without having a fit of cold shivers. - -"Those cigars will lead to a catastrophe, if I don't use prudence and -dissemble," said I to myself. - -I do not know how it was, but my sweetheart found herself seated on the -left of the host. I did not like that, but what could I say? And then, -the said host, with his twenty-five summers, his moustache curled up at -the ends, and his self-assurance, seemed to me the most ideal, the most -astounding of young devils, and I felt for him a shade of respect. - -"Well," he said, with captivating volubility, "you are feeling yourself -at home, are you not? You know any guest who feels uncomfortable in his -coat may take it off... and the ladies, too. Ha! ha! ha! That's the way -to make one's self happy, is it not, my little dears?" And before he had -finished laughing he printed a kiss right and left on the necks of his -two neighbors, one of whom, as I have already said, was my beloved. - -The ill-bred dog! I felt my hair rise on end and my face glow like -red-hot iron. For the rest, everybody burst out laughing, and from that -moment the supper went on with increased animation. - -"My young friends," was the remark of that infernal examining -magistrate, "let us attack the cold meat, the sausages, the turkey, the -salad; let us at the cakes, the cheese, the oysters, and the grapes; -let us attack the whole show. Waiter, draw the corks and we will eat up -everything at once, eh, my cherubs? No ceremony, no false delicacy. This -is fine fun; it is Oriental, it is splendid. In the centre of Africa -everybody acts in this manner. We must introduce poetry into our -pleasures. Pass me some cheese with my turkey. Ha! ha! ha! I feel queer, -I am wild, I am crazy, am I not, pets?" And he bestowed two more kisses, -as before. If I had not been already drunk, upon my honor, I should have -made a scene. - -I was stupid. Around me they were laughing, shouting, singing, and -rattling their plates. A racket of popping corks and breaking glasses -buzzed in my ears, but it seemed to me that a cloud had risen between me -and the outer world; a veil separated me from the other guests, and, in -spite of the evidence of my senses, I thought I was dreaming. I could -distinguish, however, though in a confused manner, the animated glances -and heightened color of the guests, and, above all, a disorder quite -new to me in the toilettes of the ladies. Even my sweetheart appeared to -have changed. Suddenly--it was as a flash of lightning--my beloved, my -angel, my ideal, she whom that very morning I was ready to marry, -leaned toward the examining magistrate and--I still feel the cold -shudder--devoured three truffles which were on his plate. - -I experienced keen anguish; it seemed to me as if my heart were breaking -just then. - -Here my recollections cease. What then took place I do not know. All I -remember is that some one took me home in a cab. I kept asking: "Where -is she? Where? Oh, where?" - -I was told that she had left two hours before. The next morning I -experienced a keen sense of despair when the truffles of the examining -magistrate came back to mind. For a moment I had a vague idea of -entering upon holy orders, but time--you know what it is--calmed my -troubled breast. But what the devil was her name? It ended in "ine." -Indeed, no, I believe it ended in "a." - - - - -CHAPTER II. THE SOUL IN AGONY. TO MONSIEUR CLAUDE DE L-------- - - Seminary of P------sur-C------- - - (Haute-Saone). - -It affords me unspeakable pleasure to sit down to address you, dear -Claude. Must I tell you that I can not think without pious emotion of -that life which but yesterday we were leading together at the Jesuits' -College. How well I remember our long talks under the great trees, the -pious pilgrimages we daily made to the Father Superior's Calvary, our -charming readings, the darting forth of our two souls toward the eternal -source of all greatness and all goodness. I can still see the little -chapel which you fitted up one day in your desk, the pretty wax tapers -we made for it, which we lighted one day during the cosmography class. - -Oh, sweet recollections, how dear you are to me! Charming details of -a calm and holy life, with what happiness do I recall you! Time -in separating you from me seems only to have brought you nearer in -recollection. I have seen life, alas! during these six long months, but, -in acquiring a knowledge of the world, I have learned to love still more -the innocent ignorance of my past existence. Wiser than myself, you -have remained in the service of the Lord; you have understood the divine -mission which had been reserved for you; you have been unwilling to step -over the profane threshold and to enter the world, that cavern, I ought -to say, in which I am now assailed, tossed about like a frail bark -during a tempest. Nay, the anger of the waves of the sea compared -to that of the passions is mere child's play. Happy friend, who art -ignorant of what I have learned. Happy friend, whose eyes have not yet -measured the abyss into which mine are already sunk. - -But what was I to do? Was I not obliged--despite my vocation and the -tender friendship which called me to your side--was I not obliged, I -say, to submit to the exigencies imposed by the name I bear, and also to -the will of my father, who destined me for a military career in order to -defend a noble cause which you too would defend? In short, I obeyed and -quitted the college of the Fathers never to return again. - -I went into the world, my heart charged with the salutary fears which -our pious education had caused to grow up there. I advanced cautiously, -but very soon recoiled horror-stricken. I am eighteen; I am still young, -I know, but I have already reflected much, while the experience of my -pious instructors has imparted to my soul a precocious maturity which -enables me to judge of many things; besides my faith is so firmly -established and so deeply rooted in my being, that I can look about me -without danger. I do not fear for my own salvation, but I am shocked -when I think of the future of our modern society, and I pray the -Lord fervently, from a heart untainted by sin, not to turn away His -countenance in wrath from our unhappy country. Even here, at the seat of -my cousin, the Marchioness K------de C------, where I am at the -present moment, I can discover nothing but frivolity among the men, and -dangerous coquetry among the women. The pernicious atmosphere of the -period seems to pervade even the highest rank of the French aristocracy. -Sometimes discussions occur on matters pertaining to science and morals, -which aim a kind of indirect blow at religion itself, of which our Holy -Father the Pope should alone be called on to decide. In this way God -permits, at the present day, certain petty savants, flat-headed men -of science, to explain in a novel fashion the origin of humanity, and, -despite the excommunication which will certainly overtake them, to throw -down a wild and impious challenge at the most venerable traditions. - -I have not myself desired to be enlightened in regard to such base -depravity, but I have heard with poignant grief men with great minds and -illustrious names attach some importance to it. - -As to manners and customs, they are, without being immoral, which would -be out of the question in our society, distinguished by a frivolity and -a faculty for being carried away with allurements which are shocking in -the extreme. I will only give you a single example of this, although it -is one that has struck me most forcibly. - -Ten minutes' walk from the house there is a charming little stream -overshadowed by spreading willows; the current is slight, the water -pellucid, and the bed covered with sand so fine that one's feet sink -into it like a carpet. Now, would you believe it, dear friend, that, in -this hot weather, all those staying at the house go at the same time, -together, and, without distinction of sex, bathe in it? A simple -garment of thin stuff, and very tight, somewhat imperfectly screens the -strangely daring modesty of the ladies. Forgive me, my pious friend, for -entering into all these details, and for troubling the peacefulness of -your soul by this picture of worldly scenes, but I promised to share -with you my impressions, as well as my most secret thoughts. It is a -sacred contract which I am fulfilling. - -I will, therefore, acknowledge that these bathing scenes shocked me -greatly, the first time I heard them spoken of. I resented it with a -species of disgust easy to understand, while I positively refused to -take part in them. To speak the truth, I was chafed a little; still, -these worldly railleries could not touch me, and had no effect on my -determination. - -Yesterday, however, about five in the afternoon, the Marchioness sent -for me, and managed the affair so neatly, that it was impossible for me -not to act as her escort. - -We started. The maid carried the bathing costumes both of the -Marchioness and of my sister, who was to join us later. - -"I know," said my cousin, "that you swim well; the fame of your -abilities has reached us here from your college. You are going to teach -me to float, eh, Robert?" - -"I do not set much store by such paltry physical acquirements, cousin," -I replied; "I swim fairly, nothing more." - -And I turned my head to avoid an extremely penetrating aroma with -which her hair was impregnated. You know very well that I am subject to -nervous attacks. - -"But, my dear child, physical advantages are not so much to be -despised." - -This "dear child" displeased me much. My cousin is twenty-six, it -is true, but I am no longer, properly speaking, a "dear child," and -besides, it denoted a familiarity which I did not care for. It was, on -the part of the Marchioness, one of the consequences of that frivolity -of mind, that carelessness of speech which I mentioned above, and -nothing more; still, I was shocked at it. She went on: - -"Exaggerated modesty is not good form in society," she said, turning -toward me with a smile. "You will, in time, make a very handsome -cavalier, my dear Robert, and that which you now lack is easy to -acquire. For instance, you should have your hair dressed by the -Marquis's valet. He will do it admirably, and then you will be -charming." - -You must understand, my dear Claude, that I met these advances with a -frigidity of manner that left no doubt as to my intentions. - -"I repeat, my cousin," said I to her, "I attach to all this very little -importance," and I emphasized my words by a firm and icy look. Then -only, for I had not before cast my eyes on her, did I notice the -peculiar elegance of her toilette, an elegance for which, unhappily, -the perishable beauty of her person served as a pretext and an -encouragement. - -Her arms were bare, and her wrists covered with bracelets; the upper -part of her neck was insufficiently veiled by the too slight fabric of -a transparent gauze; in short, the desire to please was displayed in her -by all the details of her appearance. I was stirred at the aspect of so -much frivolity, and I felt myself blush for pity, almost for shame. - -We reached, at length, the verge of the stream. She loosed my arm and -unceremoniously slid down, I can not say seated herself, upon the -grass, throwing back the long curls depending from her chignon. The -word chignon, in the language of society, denotes that prominence of the -cranium which is to be seen at the back of ladies' heads. It is produced -by making coils or plaits of their long hair. I have cause to believe, -from certain allusions I have heard, that many of these chignons are not -natural. There are women, most worthy daughters of Eve, who purchase -for gold the hair--horyesco referens--of the wretched or the dead. It -sickens one. - -"It is excessively hot, my dear cousin," said she, fanning herself. "I -tremble every moment in such weather lest Monsieur de Beaurenard's nose -should explode or catch fire. Ha, ha, ha. Upon my word of honor I do." - -She exploded with laughter at this joke, an unbecoming one, and without -much point. Monsieur de Beaurenard is a friend of the Marquis, who -happens to have a high color. Out of politeness, I forced a smile, which -she, no doubt, took for approbation, for she then launched out into -conversation--an indescribable flow of chatter, blending the most -profane sentiments with the strangest religious ideas, the quiet of -the country with the whirl of society, and all this with a freedom of -gesture, a charm of expression, a subtlety of glance, and a species -of earthly poesy, by which any other soul than mine would have been -seduced. - -"This is a pretty spot, this charming little nook, is it not?" - -"Certainly, my dear cousin." - -"And these old willows with their large tops overhanging the stream; -see how the field-flowers cluster gayly about their battered trunks! How -strange, too, that young foliage, so elegant, so silvery, those branches -so slender and so supple! So much elegance, freshness and youth shooting -up from that old trunk which seems as if accursed!" - -"God does not curse a vegetable, my cousin." - -"That is possible; but I can not help finding in willows something which -is suggestive of humanity. Perpetual old age resembles punishment. That -old reprobate of the bank there is expiating and suffering, that old -Quasimodo of the fields. What would you that I should do about it, my -cousin, for that is the impression that it gives me? What is there to -tell me that the willow is not the final incarnation of an impenitent -angler?" And she burst out laughing. - -"Those are pagan ideas, and as such are so opposed to the dogmas of -faith, that I am obliged, in order to explain their coming from your -mouth, to suppose that you are trying to make a fool of me." - -"Not the least in the world; I am not making fun of you, my dear Robert. -You are not a baby, you know! Come, go and get ready for a swim; I will -go into my dressing-tent and do the same." - -She saluted me with her hand, as she lifted one of the sides of the -tent, with unmistakable coquetry. What a strange mystery is the heart of -woman! - -I sought out a spot shaded by the bushes, thinking over these things; -but it was not long before I had got into my bathing costume. I thought -of you, my pious friend, as I was buttoning the neck and the wrists -of this conventional garment. How many times have you not helped me -to execute this little task about which I was so awkward. Briefly, I -entered the water and was about to strike out when the sound of the -marchioness's voice assailed my ears. She was talking with her maid -inside the tent. I stopped and listened; not out of guilty curiosity, -I can assure you, but out of a sincere wish to become better acquainted -with that soul. - -"No, no, Julie," the marchioness was saying. "No, no; I won't hear you -say any more about that frightful waterproof cap. The water gets inside -and does not come out. Twist up my hair in a net; nothing more is -required." - -"Your ladyship's hair will get wet." - -"Then you can powder it. Nothing is better for drying than powder. And -so, I shall wear my light blue dress this evening; blond powder will -go with it exactly. My child, you are becoming foolish. I told you to -shorten my bathing costume, by taking it up at the knees. Just see what -it looks like!" - -"I was fearful that your ladyship would find it too tight for swimming." - -"Tight! Then why have you taken it in three good inches just here? See -how it wrinkles up; it is ridiculous, don't you see it, my girl, don't -you see it?" - -The sides of the tent were moved; and I guessed that my cousin was -somewhat impatiently assuming the costume in question, in order the -better to point out its defects to her maid. - -"I don't want to look as if I were wound up in a sheet, but yet I want -to be left freedom of action. You can not get it into your head, -Julie, that this material will not stretch. You see now that I stoop a -little-Ah! you see it at last, that's well." - -Weak minds! Is it not true, my pious friend, that there are those who -can be absorbed by such small matters? I find these preoccupations to be -so frivolous that I was pained at being even the involuntary recipient -of them, and I splashed the water with my hands to announce my presence -and put a stop to a conversation which shocked me. - -"I am coming to you, Robert; get into the water. Has your sister arrived -yet?" said my cousin, raising her voice; then softly, and addressing her -maid, she added: "Yes, of course, lace it tightly. I want support." - -One side of the tent was raised, and my relative appeared. I know not -why I shuddered, as if at the approach of some danger. She advanced two -or three steps on the fine sand, drawing from her fingers as she did so, -the gold rings she was accustomed to wear; then she stopped, handed -them to Julie, and, with a movement which I can see now, but which it -is impossible for me to describe to you, kicked off into the grass the -slippers, with red bows, which enveloped her feet. - -She had only taken three paces, but it sufficed to enable me to remark -the singularity of her gait. She walked with short, timid steps, her -bare arms close to her sides. - -She had divested herself of all the outward tokens of a woman, save the -tresses of her hair, which were rolled up in a net. As for the rest, -she was a comical-looking young man, at once slender yet afflicted by an -unnatural plumpness, one of those beings who appear to us in dreams, and -in the delirium of fever, one of those creatures toward whom an unknown -power attracts us, and who resemble angels too nearly not to be demons. - -"Well, Robert, of what are you thinking? Give me your hand and help me -to get into the water." - -She dipped the toes of her arched foot into the pellucid stream. - -"This always gives one a little shock, but the water ought to be -delightful to-day," said she. "But what is the matter with you?--your -hand shakes. You are a chilly mortal, cousin." - -The fact is, I was not trembling either through fear or cold; but on -approaching the Marchioness, the sharp perfume which emanated from -her hair went to my head, and with my delicate nerves you will readily -understand that I was about to faint. I mastered this sensation, -however. She took a firm grip of my hand, as one would clasp the knob of -a cane or the banister of a stair, and we advanced into the stream side -by side. - -As we advanced the stream became deeper. The Marchioness, as the water -rose higher, gave vent to low cries of fear resembling the hiss of a -serpent; then she broke out into ringing bursts of laughter, and drew -closer and closer to me. Finally, she stopped, and turning she looked -straight into my eyes. I felt then that moment was a solemn one. I -thought a hidden precipice was concealed at my feet, my heart throbbed -as if it would burst, and my head seemed to be on fire. - -"Come now, teach me to float on my back, Robert. Legs straight and -extended, arms close to the body, that's the way, is it not?" - -"Yes, my dear cousin, and move your hands gently under you." - -"Very good; here goes, then. One, two, three-off! Oh, what a little -goose I am, I'm afraid! Oh cousin, support me, just a little bit." - -That was the moment when I ought to have said to her: "No, Madame, I am -not the man to support coquettes, and I will not." But I did not dare -say that; my tongue remained silent, and I passed my arm round the -Marchioness's waist, in order to support her more easily. - -Alas! I had made a mistake; perhaps an irreparable one. - -In that supreme moment it was but too true that I adored her seductive -charms. Let me cut it short. When I held her thus it seemed to me that -all the blood in my body rushed back to my heart--a deadly thrill ran -through every limb--from shame and indignation, no doubt; my vision -became obscure; it seemed as if my soul was leaving my body, and I fell -forward fainting, and dragged her down to the bottom of the water in a -mortal clutch. - -I heard a loud cry. I felt her arms interlace my neck, her clenched -fingers sink deep into my flesh, and all was over. I had lost -consciousness. - -When I came to myself I was lying on the grass. Julie was chafing my -hands, and the Marchioness, in her bathing-dress, which was streaming -with water, was holding a vinaigrette to my nose. She looked at -me severely, although in her glance there was a shade of pleased -satisfaction, the import of which escaped me. - -"Baby! you great baby!" said she. - -Now that you know all the facts, my pious friend, bestow on me the favor -of your counsel, and thank heaven that you live remote from scenes like -these. - - With heart and soul, - Your sincere friend, - ROBERT DE K-----DEC------. - - - - -CHAPTER III. MADAME DE K. - -It is possible that you know Madame de K.; if this be so, I congratulate -you, for she is a very remarkable person. Her face is pretty, but they -do not say of her, "Ah, what a pretty woman!" They say: "Madame de K.? -Ah! to be sure, a fine woman!" Do you perceive the difference? it is -easy to grasp it. That which charms in her is less what one sees than -what one guesses at. Ah! to be sure, a fine woman! That is what is said -after dinner when we have dined at her house, and when her husband, who -unfortunately is in bad health and does not smoke, has gone to fetch -cigars from his desk. It is said in a low tone, as though in confidence; -but from this affected reserve, it is easy to read conviction on the -part of each of the guests. The ladies in the drawing room do not -suspect the charming freedom which characterizes the gossip of the -gentlemen when they have gone into the smoking-room to puff their cigars -over a cup of coffee. - -"Yes, yes, she is a very fine woman." - -"Ah! the deuce, expansive beauty, opulent." - -"But poor De K. makes me feel anxious; he does not seem to get any -better. Does it not alarm you, Doctor?" - -Every one smiles 'sub rosa' at the idea that poor De K., who has gone to -fetch cigars, pines away visibly, while his wife is so well. - -"He is foolish; he works too hard, as I have told him. His position at -the ministry--thanks, I never take sugar." - -"But, really, it is serious, for after all he is not strong," ventures a -guest, gravely, biting his lips meanwhile to keep from laughing. - -"I think even that within the last year her beauty has developed," says -a little gentleman, stirring his coffee. - -"De K.'s beauty? I never could see it." - -"I don't say that." - -"Excuse me, you did; is it not so, Doctor?" - -"Forsooth!"--"How now! Come, let us make the distinction."--"Ha, ha, -ha!" And there is a burst of that hearty laughter which men affect to -assist digestion. The ice is broken, they draw closer to each other and -continue in low tones: - -"She has a fine neck! for when she turned just now it looked as if it -had been sculptured." - -"Her neck, her neck! but what of her hands, her arms and her shoulders! -Did you see her at Leon's ball a fortnight ago? A queen, my dear fellow, -a Roman empress. Neck, shoulders, arms--" - -"And all the rest," hazards some one, looking down into his cup. All -laugh heartily, and the good De K. comes in with a box of cigars which -look exceptional. - -"Here you are, my friends," he says, coughing slightly, "but let me -recommend you to smoke carefully." - -I have often dined with my friend De K., and I have always, or almost -always, heard a conversation similar to the preceding. But I must -avow that the evening on which I heard the impertinent remark of this -gentleman I was particularly shocked; first, because De K. is my friend, -and in the second place because I can not endure people who speak of -that of which they know nothing. I make bold to say that I alone in -Paris understand this matter to the bottom. Yes, yes, I alone; and the -reason is not far to seek. Paul and his brother are in England; Ernest -is a consul in America; as for Leon, he is at Hycres in his little -subprefecture. You see, therefore, that in truth I am the only one in -Paris who can-- - -"But hold, Monsieur Z., you must be joking. Explain yourself; come to -the point. Do you mean to say that Madame de K.--oh! dear me! but that -is most 'inconvenant'!" - -Nothing, nothing! I am foolish. Let us suppose that I had not spoken, -ladies; let us speak of something else. How could the idea have got -into my head of saying anything about "all the rest"? Let us talk of -something else. - -It was a real spring morning, the rain fell in torrents and the north -wind blew furiously, when the damsel, more dead than alive---- - -The fact is, I feel I can not get out of it. It will be better to tell -all. Only swear to me to be discreet. On your word of honor? Well, then, -here goes. - -I am, I repeat, the only man in Paris who can speak from knowledge of -"all the rest" in regard to Madame de K. - -Some years ago--but do not let us anticipate--I say, some years ago I -had an intimate friend at whose house we met many evenings. In summer -the windows were left open, and we used to sit in armchairs and chat -of affairs by the light of our cigars. Now, one evening, when we were -talking of fishing--all these details are still fresh in my memory--we -heard the sound of a powerful harpsichord, and soon followed the harsh -notes of a voice more vigorous than harmonious, I must admit. - -"Aha! she has altered her hours," said Paul, regarding one of the -windows of the house opposite. - -"Who has changed her hours, my dear fellow?" - -"My neighbor. A robust voice, don't you think so? Usually she practises -in the morning, and I like that better, for it is the time I go out for -a walk." - -Instinctively I glanced toward the lighted window, and through the drawn -curtains I distinctly perceived a woman, dressed in white, with her hair -loose, and swaying before her instrument like a person conscious that -she was alone and responding to her own inspirations. - -"My Fernand, go, seek glo-o-o-ry," she was singing at the top of her -voice. The singing appeared to me mediocre, but the songstress in her -peignoir interested me much. - -"Gentlemen," said I, "it appears to me there is behind that frail -tissue"--I alluded to the curtain--"a very handsome woman. Put out -your cigars, if you please; their light might betray our presence and -embarrass the fair singer." - -The cigars were at once dropped--the window was even almost completely -closed for greater security--and we began to watch. - -This was not, I know, quite discreet, but, as the devil willed it, we -were young bachelors, all five of us, and then, after all, dear reader, -would not you have done the same? - -When the song was concluded, the singer rose. It was very hot and -her garment must have been very thin, for the light, which was at the -farther end of the room, shone through the fabric. It was one of those -long robes which fall to the feet, and which custom has reserved for -night wear. The upper part is often trimmed with lace, the sleeves are -wide, the folds are long and flowing, and usually give forth a perfume -of ambergris or violet. But perhaps you know this garment as well as I. -The fair one drew near the looking-glass, and it seemed to us that she -was contemplating her face; then she raised her hands in the air, and, -in the graceful movement she made, the sleeve, which was unbuttoned and -very loose, slipped from her beautifully rounded arm, the outline of -which we distinctly perceived. - -"The devil!" said Paul, in a stifled voice, but he could say no more. - -The songstress then gathered up her hair, which hung very low, in her -two hands and twisted it in the air, just as the washerwomen do. Her -head, which we saw in profile, inclined a little forward, and her -shoulders, which the movement of her arms threw back, presented a more -prominent and clear outline. - -"Marble, Parian marble!" muttered Paul. "O Cypris! Cytherea! Paphia!" - -"Be quiet, you donkey!" - -It really seemed as if the flame of the candle understood our -appreciation and ministered specially to our admiration. Placed behind -the fair songstress, it illuminated her so perfectly that the garment -with the long folds resembled those thin vapors which veil the horizon -without hiding it, and in a word, the most inquisitive imagination, -disarmed by so much courtesy, was ready to exclaim, "That is enough!" - -Soon the fair one moved forward toward her bed, sat down in a very low -armchair, in which she stretched herself out at her ease, and remained -for some moments, with her hands clasped over her head and her limbs -extended. Just then midnight struck; we saw her take her right leg -slowly and cross it over her left, when we perceived that she had not -yet removed her shoes and stockings. - -But what is the use of asking any more about it? These recollections -trouble me, and, although they have fixed themselves in my mind-very -firmly indeed, I can assure you--I feel an embarrassment mingled with -modesty at relating all to you at length. Besides, at the moment she -turned down the clothes, and prepared, to get into bed, the light went -out. - -On the morrow, about ten o'clock in the evening, we all five again found -ourselves at Paul's, four of us with opera-glasses in our pockets. As -on the previous evening, the fair songstress sat down at her piano, then -proceeded slowly to make her night toilette. There was the same grace, -the same charm, but when we came to the fatal moment at which on the -preceding night the candle had gone out, a faint thrill ran through -us all. To tell the truth, for my part, I was nervous. Heaven, very -fortunately, was now on our side; the candle continued to burn. The -young woman then, with her charming hand, the plump outlines of which -we could easily distinguish, smoothed the pillow, patted it, arranged -it with a thousand caressing precautions in which the thought was -suggested, "With what happiness shall I now go and bury my head in it!" - -Then she smoothed down the little wrinkles in the bed, the contact with -which might have irritated her, and, raising herself on her right arm, -like a horseman, about to get into the saddle, we saw her left knee, -smooth and shining as marble, slowly bury itself. We seemed to hear a -kind of creaking, but this creaking sounded joyful. The sight was brief, -too brief, alas! and it was in a species of delightful confusion that we -perceived a well-rounded limb, dazzlingly white, struggling in the silk -of the quilt. At length everything became quiet again, and it was as -much as we could do to make out a smooth, rose-tinted little foot which, -not being sleepy, still lingered outside and fidgeted with the silken -covering. - -Delightful souvenir of my lively youth! My pen splutters, my paper seems -to blush to the color of that used by the orange-sellers. I believe I -have said too much. - -I learned some time afterward that my friend De K. was about to be -married, and, singularly enough, was going to wed this beautiful -creature with whom I was so well acquainted. - -"A charming woman!" I exclaimed one day. - -"You know her, then?" said someone. - -"I? No, not the least in the world." - -"But?" - -"Yes-no, let me see; I have seen her once at high mass." - -"She is not very pretty," some one remarked to me. - -"No, not her face," I rejoined, and added to myself, "No, not her face, -but all the rest!" - -It is none the less true that for some time past this secret has been -oppressing me, and, though I decided to-day to reveal it to you, it was -because it seems to me that to do so would quiet my conscience. - -But, for Heaven's sake, let me entreat you, do not noise abroad the -affair! - - - - -CHAPTER IV. SOUVENIRS OF LENT - -The faithful are flocking up the steps of the temple; spring toilettes -already glitter in the sun; trains sweep the dust with their long -flowing folds; feathers and ribbons flutter; the bell chimes solemnly, -while carriages keep arriving at a trot, depositing upon the pavement -all that is most pious and most noble in the Faubourg, then draw up in -line at the farther end of the square. - -Be quick, elbow your way through the crowd if you want a good place; -the Abbe Gelon preaches to-day on abstinence, and when the Abbe Gelon -preaches it is as if Patti were singing. - -Enter Madame, pushes the triple door, which recloses heavily, brushes -with rapid fingers the holywater sprinkler which that pious old man -holds out, and carefully makes a graceful little sign of the cross so as -not to spot her ribbons. - -Do you hear these discreet and aristocratic whisperings? - -"Good morning, my dear." - -"Good morning, dear. It is always on abstinence that he preaches, is it -not? Have you a seat?" - -"Yes, yes, come with me. You have got on your famous bonnet, I see?" - -"Yes; do you like it? It is a little showy, is it not? What a multitude -of people! Where is your husband?" - -"Showy! Oh, no, it is splendid. My husband is in the churchwarden's pew; -he left before me; he is becoming a fanatic--he speaks of lunching on -radishes and lentils." - -"That ought to be very consoling to you." - -"Don't mention it. Come with me. See; there are Ernestine and Louise. -Poor Louise's nose, always the same; who would believe that she drinks -nothing stronger than water?" - -The ladies push their way among the chairs, some of which they upset -with the greatest unconcern. - -Arrived at their places they sink down on their knees, and, moist-eyed -and full of feeling, cast a look of veiled adoration toward the high -altar, then hide their faces with their gloved hands. - -For a very few minutes they gracefully deprecate themselves in the eyes -of the Lord, then, taking their seats, coquettishly arrange the immense -bows of their bonnet-strings, scan the assembly through a gold eyeglass, -with the little finger turning up; finally, while smoothing down the -satin folds of a dress difficult to keep in place, they scatter, right -and left, charming little recognitions and delightful little smiles. - -"Are you comfortable, dear?" - -"Quite, thanks. Do you see in front there, between the two tapers, -Louise and Madame de C-------? Is it allowable in any one to come to -church got up like that?" - -"Oh! I have never believed much in the piety of Madame de C-------. You -know her history--the story of the screen? I will tell it you later. Ah! -there is the verger." - -The verger shows his bald head in the pulpit of truth. He arranges the -seat, adjusts the kneeling-stool, then withdraws and allows the Abbe -Gelon, who is somewhat pale from Lenten fasting, but striking, as he -always is, in dignity, elegance, and unction. A momentary flutter passes -through the congregation, then they settle down comfortably. The noise -dies away, and all eyes are eagerly looking toward the face of the -preacher. With his eyes turned to heaven, the latter stands upright and -motionless; a light from above may be divined in his inspired look; -his beautiful, white hands, encircled at the wrists by fine lace, are -carelessly placed on the red velvet cushion of the pulpit. He waits a -few moments, coughs twice, unfolds his handkerchief, deposits his square -hat in a corner, and, bending forward, lets fall from his lips in those -sweet slow, persuasive tones, by which he is known, the first words of -his sermon, "Ladies!" - -With this single word he has already won all hearts. Slowly he casts -over his audience a mellow glance, which penetrates and attracts; then, -having uttered a few Latin words which he has the tact to translate -quickly into French, he continues: - -"What is it to abstain? Why should we abstain? How should we abstain? -Those are the three points, ladies, I shall proceed to discuss." - -He blows his nose, coughs; a holy thrill stirs every heart. How will he -treat this magnificent subject? Let us listen. - -Is it not true, Madame, that your heart is piously stirred, and that at -this moment you feel an actual thirst for abstinence and mortification? - -The holy precincts are bathed in a soft obscurity, similar to that of -your boudoir, and inducing revery. - -I know not how much of the ineffable and of the vaguely exhilarating -penetrates your being. But the voice of this handsome and venerated old -man has, amidst the deep silence, something deliciously heavenly about -it. Mysterious echoes repeat from the far end of the temple each of his -words, and in the dim light of the sanctuary the golden candlesticks -glitter like precious stones. The old stained-glass windows with their -symbolic figures become suddenly illuminated, a flood of light and -sunshine spreads through the church like a sheet of fire. Are the -heavens opening? Is the Spirit from on high descending among us? - -While lost in pious revery, which soothes and lulls, one gazes with -ecstasy on the fanciful details of the sculptures which vanish in -the groined roof above, and on the quaint pipes of the organ with its -hundred voices. The beliefs of childhood piously inculcated in your -heart suddenly reawaken; a vague perfume of incense again penetrates -the air. The stone pillars shoot up to infinite heights, and from these -celestial arches depends the golden lamp which sways to and fro in -space, diffusing its eternal light. Truly, God is great. - -By degrees the sweet tones of the preacher enrapture one more and more, -and the sense of his words are lost; and, listening to the divine murmur -of that saint-like voice, your eyes, like those of a child falling -asleep in the bosom of the Creator, close. - -You do not go to sleep, but your head inclines forward, the ethereal -light surrounds you, and your soul, delighting in the uncertain, plunges -into celestial space, and loses itself in infinity. - -What a sweet and holily intoxicating sensation, a delicious -ecstasy! Nevertheless, there are those who smile at this religious -raise-en-scene, these pomps and splendors, this celestial music, which -soothes the nerves and thrills the brain! Pity on these scoffers who do -not comprehend the ineffable delight of being able to open at will the -gates of Paradise to themselves, and to become, at odd moments, one with -the angels! But what purpose does it serve to speak of the faithless -and of their harmless, smiles? As the Abbe Gelon has in his inimitable -manner observed, "The heart is a fortress, incessantly assailed by the -spirit of darkness." - -The idea of a constant struggle with this powerful being has something -about it that adds tenfold to our strength and flatters our vanity. -What, alone in your fortress, Madame; alone with the spirit of darkness. - -But hush! the Abbe Gelon is finishing in a quivering and fatigued voice. -His right hand traces in the air the sign of peace. Then he wipes his -humid forehead, his eyes sparkle with divine light, he descends the -narrow stairs, and we hear on the pavement the regular taps of the rod -of the verger, who is reconducting him to the vestry. - -"Was he not splendid, dear?" - -"Excellent! when he said, 'That my eyes might close forever, if...' -you remember?" - -"Superb! and further on: 'Yes, ladies, you are coquettes.' He told us -some hard truths; he speaks admirably." - -"Admirably! He is divine!" - -It is four o'clock, the church is plunged in shadow and silence. The -confused rumble of the vehicles without hardly penetrates this dwelling -of prayer, and the creak of one's boots, echoing in the distance, is the -only human noise which ruffles the deep calm. - -However, in proportion as we advance, we perceive in the chapels groups -of the faithful, kneeling, motionless and silent. In viewing the despair -that their attitude appears to express, we are overwhelmed with sadness -and uneasiness. Is it an appeal for the damned? - -The aspects of one of these chapels is peculiar. A hundred or a hundred -and fifty ladies, almost buried in silk and velvet, are crowded devoutly -about the confessional. A sweet scent of violets and vervain permeates -the vicinity, and one halts, in spite of one's self, in the presence of -this large display of elegance. - -From each of the two cells adjoining the confessional shoot out the -folds of a rebellious skirt, for the penitent, held fast at the waist, -has been able to get only half of her form into the narrow space. -However, her head can be distinguished moving in the shadow, and we can -guess from the contrite movements of her white feather that her forehead -is bowed by reason of remonstrance and repentance. - -Hardly has she concluded her little story when a dozen of her neighbors -rush forward to replace her. This eagerness is quite explicable, for -this chapel is the one in which the Abbe Gelon hears confessions, and I -need not tell you that when the Abbe Gelon confesses it is the same as -if he were preaching--there is a crowd. - -The good Abbe confesses all these ladies, and, with angelic devotion, -remains shut up for hours in this dark, narrow, suffocating box, through -the grating of which two penitents are continually whispering their -sins. - -The dear Abbe! the most likable thing about him is that he is not -long over the business. He knows how to get rid of useless details; he -perceives, with subtle instinct and a sureness of vision that spares -you a thousand embarrassments, the condition of a soul, so that, besides -being a man of intelligence and of the world, he renders the repetition -of those little weaknesses, of which he has whispered the one half to -you, almost agreeable. - -In coming to him with one's little burden of guilt, one feels somewhat -embarrassed, but while one is hesitating about telling him all, he, with -a discreet and skilful hand, disencumbers one of it rapidly, examines -the contents, smiles or consoles, and the confession is made without -one having uttered a single word; so that after all is over the penitent -exclaims, prostrating one's self before God, "But, Lord, I was pure, -pure as the lily, and yet how uneasy I was!" - -Even when he assumes the sacerdotal habit and ceases to be a man, and -speaks in the name of God, the tones of his voice, the refinement of his -look, reveal innate distinction and that spotless courtesy which can not -harm even a minister of God, and which one must cultivate on this side -of the Rue du Bac. - -If God wills that there must be a Faubourg St.-Germain in the world--and -it can not be denied that He does--is it not proper that He should give -us a minister who speaks our language and understands our weaknesses? -Nothing is more obvious, and I really do not comprehend some of these -ladies who talk to me about the Abbe Brice. Not that I wish to speak ill -of the good Abbe, for this is neither the time nor the place for it; he -is a holy man, but his sanctity is a little bourgeois and needs polish. - -With him one has to dot one's i's; he is dull in perception, or does not -perceive at all. - -Acknowledge a peccadillo, and his brows knit, he must know the hour, the -moment, the antecedents; he examines, he probes, he weighs, and finishes -his thousand questions by being indiscreet and almost improper. Is there -not, even in the holy mission of the priest, a way of being politely -severe, and of acting the gentleman to people well born? - -The Abbe Brice--and there is no reason why I should conceal it--smells -of the stable, which must be prejudicial to him. He is slightly -Republican, too, wears clumsy boots, has awful nails, and when he gets -new gloves, twice a year, his fingers stand out stiff and separate. - -I do not, I would have you remark, deny his admirable virtues; but say -what you like, you will never get a woman of fashion to confide her -"little affairs" to a farmer's son, and address him as "Father." Matters -must not be carried the length of absurdity; besides, this Abbe Brice -always smells detestably of snuff. - -He confesses all sorts of people, and you will agree that it is not -pleasant to have one's maid or one's cook for one's visa-vis at the -confessional. - -There is not a woman who understands Christian humility better than -yourself, dear Madame; but all the same you are not accustomed to travel -in an omnibus. You may be told that in heaven you will only be too happy -to call your coachman "Brother," and to say to Sarah Jane, "Sister," but -these worthy folk shall have first passed through purgatory, and fire -purifies everything. Again, what is there to assure us that Sarah Jane -will go to heaven, since you yourself, dear Madame, are not so sure of -entering there? - -It is hence quite well understood why the Abbe Gelon's chapel is -crowded. If a little whispering goes on, it is because they have been -waiting three long hours, and because everybody knows one another. - -All the ladies, you may be sure, are there. - -"Make a little room for me, dear," whispers a newcomer, edging her way -through trains, kneeling-stools, and chairs. - -"Ah! is that you, dear? Come here. Clementine and Madame de B. are there -in the corner at the cannon's mouth. You will have to wait two good -hours." - -"If Madame de B. is there, it does not surprise me. She is -inexhaustible, and there is no other woman who is so long in telling -a thing. Have all these people not had their turn yet? Ah! there is -Ernestine." (She waves her hand to her quietly.) "That child is an -angel. She acknowledged to me the other day that her conscience troubled -her because, on reading the 'Passion,' she could not make up her mind to -kiss the mat." - -"Ah! charming; but, tell me, do you kiss the mat yourself?" - -"I! no, never in my life; it is so nasty, dear." - -"You confess to the omission, at least?" - -"Oh! I confess all those little trifles in a lump. I say, 'Father, I -have erred out of human self-respect.' I give the total at once." - -"That is just what I do, and that dear Abbe Gelon discharges the bill." - -"Seriously, time would fail him if he acted otherwise. But it seems to -me that we are whispering a little too much, dear; let me think over my -little bill." - -Madame leans upon her praying-stool. Gracefully she removes, without -taking her eyes off the altar, the glove from her right hand, and with -her thumb turns the ring of Ste-Genevieve that serves her as a rosary, -moving her lips the while. Then, with downcast eyes and set lips, she -loosens the fleur-de-lys-engraved clasp of her Book of Hours, and seeks -out the prayers appropriate to her condition. - -She reads with fervency: "'My God, crushed beneath the burden of my sins -I cast myself at thy feet'--how annoying that it should be so cold to -the feet. With my sore throat, I am sure to have influenza,--'that -I cast myself at thy feet'--tell me, dear, do you know if the -chapel-keeper has a footwarmer? Nothing is worse than cold feet, and -that Madame de P. sticks there for hours. I am sure she confesses her -friends' sins along with her own. It is intolerable; I no longer -have any feeling in my right foot; I would pay that woman for her -foot-warmer--'I bow my head in the dust under the weight of repentance, -and of........'" - -"Ah! Madame de P. has finished; she is as red as the comb of a -turkey-cock." - -Four ladies rush forward with pious ardor to take her place. - -"Ah! Madame, do not push so, I beg of you." - -"But I was here before you, Madame." - -"I beg a thousand pardons, Madame." - -"You surely have a very strange idea of the respect which is due to this -hallowed spot." - -"Hush, hush! Profit by the opportunity, Madame; slip through and take -the vacant place. (Whispering.) Do not forget the big one last night, -and the two little ones of this morning." - - - - -CHAPTER V. MADAME AND HER FRIEND CHAT BY THE FIRESIDE - -Madam--(moving her slender fingers)--It is ruched, ruched, ruched, loves -of ruches, edged all around with blond. - -Her Friend--That is good style, dear. - -Madame--Yes, I think it will be the style, and over this snowlike -foam fall the skirts of blue silk like the bodice; but a lovely blue, -something like--a little less pronounced than skyblue, you know, -like--my husband calls it a subdued blue. - -Her Friend--Splendid. He is very happy in his choice of terms. - -Madame--Is he not? One understands at once--a subdued blue. It describes -it exactly. - -Her Friend--But apropos of this, you know that Ernestine has not -forgiven him his pleasantry of the other evening. - -Madame--How, of my husband? What pleasantry? The other evening when the -Abbe Gelon and the Abbe Brice were there? - -Her Friend--And his son, who was there also. - -Madame--What! the Abbe's son? (Both break into laughter.) - -Her Friend--But--ha! ha! ha!--what are you saying, ha! ha! you little -goose? - -Madame--I said the Abbe Gelon and the Abbe Brice, and you add, 'And his -son.' It is your fault, dear. He must be a choir-boy, that cherub. (More -laughter.) - -Her Friend--(placing her hand over hey mouth)--Be quiet, be quiet; it is -too bad; and in Lent, too! - -Madame--Well, but of whose son are you speaking? - -Her Friend--Of Ernestine's son, don't you know, Albert, a picture of -innocence. He heard your husband's pleasantry, and his mother was vexed. - -Madame--My dear, I really don't know to what you refer. Please tell me -all about it. - -Hey Friend--Well, on entering the drawing-room, and perceiving the -candelabra lit up, and the two Abbe's standing at that moment in the -middle of the room, your husband appeared as if looking for something, -and when Ernestine asked him what it was, he said aloud: "I am looking -for the holy-water; please, dear neighbor, excuse me for coming in the -middle of the service." - -Madame--Is it possible? (Laughing.) The fact is, he can not get out -of it; he has met the two Abbes, twice running, at Ernestine's. Her -drawing-room is a perfect sacristy. - -Hey Friend (dryly)--A sacristy! How regardless you are getting in your -language since your marriage, dear. - -Madame--Not more than before. I never cared to meet priests elsewhere -than at church. - -Her Friend--Come, you are frivolous, and if I did not know you -better--but do you not like to meet the Abbe Gelon? - -Madame--Ah! the Abbe Gelon, that is quite different. He is charming. - -Her Friend--(briskly)--His manners are so distingue. - -Madame--And respectful. His white hair is such an admirable frame for -his pale face, which is so full of unction. - -Her Friend--Oh! yes, he has unction, and his looks--those sweetly -softened looks! The other day, when he was speaking on the mediation -of Christ, he was divine. At one moment he wiped away a tear; he was no -longer master of his emotions; but he grew calm almost immediately--his -power of self-command is marvellous; then he went on quietly, but the -emotion in turn had overpowered us. It was electrifying. The Countess -de S., who was near me, was bubbling like a spring, under her yellow -bonnet. - -Madame--Ah! yes, I have seen that yellow bonnet. What a sight that -Madame de S. is! - -Her Friend--The truth is, she is always dressed like an applewoman. A -bishopric has been offered these messieurs, I know, on good authority; -my husband had it from De l'Euvre. Well-- - -Madame--(interrupting her)--A bishopric offered to Madame de S. It was -wrong to do so. - -Her Friend--You make fun of everything, my dear; there are, however, -some subjects which should be revered. I tell you that the mitre and -the ring have been offered to the Abby Gelon. Well, he refused them. God -knows, however, that the pastoral ring would well become his hand. - -Madame--Oh! yes, he has a lovely hand. - -Her Friend--He has a white, slender, and aristocratic hand. Perhaps it -is a wrong for us to dwell on these worldly details, but after all his -hand is really beautiful. Do you know (enthusiastically) I find that -the Abbe Gelon compels love of religion? Were you ever present at his -lectures? - -Madame--I was at the first one. I would have gone again on Thursday, but -Madame Savain came to try on my bodice and I had a protracted discussion -with her about the slant of the skirts. - -Her Friend--Ah! the skirts are cut slantingly. - -Madame--Yes, yes, with little cross-bars, which is an idea of my own--I -have not seen it anywhere else; I think it will not look badly. - -Her Friend--Madame Savain told me that you had suppressed the shoulders -of the corsage. - -Madame--Ah! the gossip! Yes, I will have nothing on the shoulders but -a ribbon, a trifle, just enough to fasten a jewel to--I was afraid that -the corsage would look a little bare. Madame Savain had laid on, at -intervals, some ridiculous frippery. I wanted to try something else--my -plan of crossbars, there and then--and I missed the dear Abbe Gelon's -lecture. He was charming, it seems. - -Her Friend--Oh! charming. He spoke against bad books; there was a large -crowd. He demolished all the horrible opinions of Monsieur Renan. What a -monster that man is! - -Madame--You have read his book? - -Her Friend--Heaven forbid! Don't you know it is impossible for one to -find anything more--well, it must be very bad 'Messieurs de l'OEuvre' -for the Abbe Gelon, in speaking to one of these friends of my husband, -uttered the word---- - -Madame--Well, what word? - -Her Friend--I dare not tell you, for, really, if it is true it would -make one shudder. He said that it was (whispering in her ear) the -Antichrist! It makes one feel aghast, does it not! They sell his -photograph; he has a satanic look. (Looking at the clock.) Half-past -two--I must run away; I have given no orders about dinner. These three -fast-days in the week are to me martyrdom. One must have a little -variety; my husband is very fastidious. If we did not have water-fowl I -should lose my head. How do you get on, dear? - -Madame--Oh! with me it is very simple, provided I do not make my husband -leaner; he eats anything. You know, Augustus is not very much-- - -Her Friend--Not very much! I think that he is much too spare; for, -after all, if we do not in this life impose some privations upon -ourselves--no, that would be too easy. I hope, indeed, that you have a -dispensation? - -Madame--Oh! yes, I am safe as to that. - -Her Friend--I have one, of course, for butter and eggs, as -vice-chancellor of the Association. The Abbe Gelon begged me to accept a -complete dispensation on account of my headaches, but I refused. Yes! I -refused outright. If one makes a compromise with one's principles--but -then there are people who have no principles. - -Madame--If you mean that to apply to my husband, you are wrong. Augustus -is not a heathen--he has excellent principles. - -Her Friend--Excellent principles! You make my blood boil. But there, I -must go. Well, it is understood, I count upon you for Tuesday; he -will preach upon authority, a magnificent subject, and we may expect -allusions--Ah! I forgot to tell you; I am collecting and I expect your -mite, dear. I take as low a sum as a denier (the twelfth of a penny). -I have an idea of collecting with my little girl on my praying-stool. -Madame de K. collected on Sunday at St. Thomas's and her baby held the -alms-bag. The little Jesus had an immense success--immense! - -Madame--I must go now. How will you dress? - -Her Friend--Oh! for the present, quite simply and in black; you -understand. - -Madame--Besides, black becomes you so well. - -Her Friend--Yes, everything is for the best; black does not suit me at -all ill. Tuesday, then. But my dear, try to bring your husband, he likes -music so much. - -Madame--Well, I can not promise that. - -Her Fiend--Ah! mon Dieu! they are all like that, these men; they are -strong-minded, and when grace touches them, they look back on their past -life with horror. When my husband speaks of his youth, the tears come -into his eyes. I must tell you; that he has not always been as he is -now; he was a gay boy in his youth, poor fellow. I do not detest a man -because he knows life a little, do you? But I am gossiping and time -passes; I have a call to make yet on Madame W. I do not know whether she -has found her juvenile lead. - -Madame--What for, in Heaven's name? - -Her Friend--For her evening party. There are to be private theatricals -at her house, but for a pious object, you may be sure, during Lent; it -is so as to have a collection on behalf of the Association. I must fly. -Good-by, dear. - -Madame--Till Tuesday, dear; in full uniform? - -Her Friend--(smiling)--In full uniform. Kind regards to your reprobate. -I like him very much all the same. Good-by. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. A DREAM - -Sleeplessness is almost always to be traced to indigestion. My friend, -Dr. Jacques, is there and he will tell you so. - -Now, on that particular evening, it was last Friday, I had committed the -mistake of eating brill, a fish that positively disagrees with me. - -God grant that the account of the singular dream which ensued may -inspire you with some prudent reflections. - -Be that as it may, this was my dream, in all its extravagance. - -I had, in this dream, the honor to belong, as senior curate, to one -of the most frequented parish churches in Paris. What could be more -ridiculous! I was, moreover, respectably stout, possessed a head decked -with silver locks, well-shaped hands, an aquiline nose, great unction, -the friendship of the lady worshippers, and, I venture to add, the -esteem of the rector. - -While I was reciting the thanksgiving after service, and at the same -time unfastening the cords of my alb, the rector came up to me (I see -him even now) blowing his nose. - -"My dear friend," said he, "you hear confessions this evening, do you -not?" - -"Most certainly. Are you well this morning? I had a good congregation at -mass." - -Having said this, I finished my thanksgiving, put my alb into the -wardrobe, and, offering a pinch to the rector, added cheerily: - -"This is not breaking the fast, is it?" - -"Ha! ha! no, no, no! Besides, it wants five minutes to twelve and the -clock is slow." - -We took a pinch together and walked off arm in arm by the little side -door, for night sacraments, chatting in a friendly way. - -Suddenly I found myself transported into my confessional. The chapel was -full of ladies who all bowed at my approach. I entered my narrow box, -the key of which I had. I arranged on the seat the air-cushion which is -indispensable to me on the evenings preceding great church festivals, -the sittings at that season being always prolonged. I slipped the -white surplice which was hanging from a peg over my cassock, and, after -meditating for a moment, opened the little shutter that puts me in -communication with the penitents. - -I will not undertake to describe to you one by one the different people -who came and knelt before me. I will not tell you, for instance, how one -of them, a lady in black, with a straight nose, thin lips, and sallow -complexion, after reciting her Confiteor in Latin, touched me infinitely -by the absolute confidence she placed in me, though I was not of her -sex. In five minutes she found the opportunity to speak to me of her -sister-in-law, her brother, an uncle who was on the point of death whose -heiress she was, her nephews, and her servants; and I could perceive, -despite the tender benevolence that appeared in all her words, that she -was the victim of all these people. She ended by informing me she had -a marriageable daughter, and that her stomach was an obstacle to her -fasting. - -I can still see a throng of other penitents, but it would take too -long to tell you about them, and we will confine ourselves, with your -permission, to the last two, who, besides, impressed upon my memory -themselves particularly. - -A highly adorned little lady rushed into the confessional; she was -brisk, rosy, fresh. Despite her expression of deep thoughtfulness, -she spoke very quickly in a musical voice, and rattled through her -Confiteor, regardless of the sense. - -"Father," she said, "I have one thing that is troubling me." - -"Speak, my child; you know that a confessor is a father." - -"Well, father--but I really dare not." - -There are many of these timid little hearts that require to be -encouraged. I said, "Go on, my child, go on." - -"My husband," she murmured confusedly, "will not abstain during Lent. -Ought I to compel him, father?" - -"Yes, by persuasion." - -"But he says that he will go and dine at the restaurant if I do not let -him have any meat. Oh! I suffer terribly from that. Am I not assuming -the responsibility of all that meat, father?" - -This young wife really interested me; she had in the midst of one cheek, -toward the corner of the mouth, a small hollow, a kind of little -dimple, charming in the profane sense of the word, and giving a special -expression to her face. Her tiny white teeth glittered like pearls when -she opened her mouth to relate her pious inquietudes; she shed around, -besides, a perfume almost as sweet as that of our altars, although of a -different kind, and I breathed this perfume with an uneasiness full of -scruples, which for all that inclined me to indulgence. I was so -close to her that none of the details of her face escaped me; I could -distinguish, almost in spite of myself, even a little quiver of her left -eyebrow, tickled every now and again by a stray tress of her fair hair. - -"Your situation," I said, "is a delicate one; on one hand, your domestic -happiness, and on the other your duty as a Christian." She gave a sigh -from her very heart. "Well, my dear child, my age warrants my speaking -to you like that, does it not?" - -"Oh, yes, father." - -"Well, my dear child"--I fancy I noticed at that moment that she had -at the outer corner of her eyes a kind of dark mark something like an -arrow-head--"try, my dear child, to convince your husband, who in his -heart--" In addition, her lashes, very long and somewhat curled, were -underlined, I might almost say, by a dark streak expanding and shading -off delicately toward the middle of the eye. This physical peculiarity -did not seem to me natural, but an effect of premeditated coquetry. - -Strange fact, the verification of such weakness in this candid heart -only increased my compassion. I continued in a gentle tone: - -"Strive to bring your husband to God. Abstinence is not only a religious -observance, it is also a salutary custom. 'Non solum lex Dei, sed -etiam'. Have you done everything to bring back your husband?" - -"Yes, father, everything." - -"Be precise, my child; I must know all." - -"Well, father, I have tried sweetness and tenderness." - -I thought to myself that this husband must be a wretch. - -"I have implored him for the sake of our child," continued the little -angel, "not to risk his salvation and my own. Once or twice I even -told him that the spinach was dressed with gravy when it was not. Was I -wrong, father?" - -"There are pious falsehoods which the Church excuses, for in such cases -it only takes into consideration the intention and the greater glory of -God. I can not, therefore, say that you have done wrong. You have not, -have you, been guilty toward your husband of any of those excusable -acts of violence which may escape a Christian soul when it is struggling -against error? For it really is not natural that an honest man should -refuse to follow the prescription of the Church. Make a few concessions -at first." - -"I have, father, and perhaps too many," she said, contritely. - -"What do you mean?" - -"Hoping to bring him back to God, I accorded him favors which I ought -to have refused him. I may be wrong, but it seems to me that I ought to -have refused him." - -"Do not be alarmed, my dear child, everything depends upon degrees, and -it is necessary in these matters to make delicate distinctions." - -"That is what I say to myself, father, but my husband unites with his -kindness such a communicative gayety--he has such a graceful and natural -way of excusing his impiety--that I laugh in spite of myself when I -ought to weep. It seems to me that a cloud comes between myself and my -duties, and my scruples evaporate beneath the charm of his presence and -his wit. My husband has plenty of wit," she added, with a faint smile, -in which there was a tinge of pride. - -"Hum! hum!" (the blackness of this man's heart revolted me). "There is -no seductive shape that the tempter does not assume, my child. Wit in -itself is not to be condemned, although the Church shuns it as far as -she is concerned, looking upon it as a worldly ornament; but it may -become dangerous, it may be reckoned a veritable pest when it tends to -weaken faith. Faith, which is to the soul, I hardly need tell you, -what the bloom is to the peach, and--if I may so express myself, what -the--dew is--to the flower--hum, hum! Go on, my child." - -"But, father, when my husband has disturbed me for a moment, I soon -repent of it. He has hardly gone before I pray for him." - -"Good, very good." - -"I have sewn a blessed medal up in his overcoat." This was said more -boldly, though still with some timidity. - -"And have you noticed any result?" - -"In certain things he is better, yes, father, but as regards abstinence -he is still intractable," she said with embarrassment. - -"Do not be discouraged. We are in the holy period of Lent. Make use of -pious subterfuges, prepare him some admissible viands, but pleasant to -the taste." - -"Yes, father, I have thought of that. The day before yesterday I gave -him one of these salmon pasties that resemble ham." - -"Yes, yes, I know them. Well?" - -"Well, he ate the salmon, but he had a cutlet cooked afterward." - -"Deplorable!" I exclaimed, almost in spite of myself, so excessive did -the perversity of this man seem to me. "Patience, my child, offer up -to Heaven the sufferings which your husband's impiety causes you, and -remember that your efforts will be set down to you. You have nothing -more to tell me?" - -"No, father." - -"Collect yourself, then. I will give you absolution." - -The dear soul sighed as she joined her two little hands. - -Hardly had my penitent risen to withdraw when I abruptly closed my -little shutter and took a long pinch of snuff--snuff-takers know how -much a pinch soothes the mind--then having thanked God rapidly, I drew -from the pocket of my cassock my good old watch, and found that it was -earlier than I thought. The darkness of the chapel had deceived me, and -my stomach had shared my error. I was hungry. I banished these carnal -preoccupations from my mind, and after shaking my hands, on which -some grains of snuff had fallen, I slackened one of my braces that was -pressing a little on one shoulder, and opened my wicket. - -"Well, Madame, people should be more careful," said the penitent on my -left, addressing a lady of whom I could only see a bonnet-ribbon; "it is -excusable." - -My penitent's voice, which was very irritated, though restrained by -respect for the locality, softened as if by magic at the creaking of my -wicket. She knelt down, piously folded her two ungloved hands, plump, -perfumed, rosy, laden with rings--but let that pass. I seemed to -recognize the hands of the Countess de B., a chosen soul, whom I had the -honor to visit frequently, especially on Saturday, when there is always -a place laid for me at her table. - -She raised her little lace veil and I saw that I was not mistaken. It -was the Countess. She smiled at me as at a person with whom she was -acquainted, but with perfect propriety; she seemed to be saying, -"Good-day, my dear Abbe, I do not ask how your rheumatism is, because -at this moment you are invested with a sacred character, but I am -interested in it all the same." - -This little smile was irreproachable. I replied by a similar smile, and -I murmured in a very low tone, giving her, too, to understand by the -expression of my face that I was making a unique concession in her -favor, "Are you quite well, dear Madame?" - -"Thanks, father, I am quite well." Her voice had resumed an angelic -tone. "But I have just been in a passion." - -"And why? Perhaps you have taken for a passion what was really only a -passing moment of temper?" - -It does not do to alarm penitents. - -"Ah! not at all, it was really a passion, father. My dress had just been -torn from top to bottom; and really it is strange that one should be -exposed to such mishaps on approaching the tribunal of----" - -"Collect yourself, my dear Madame, collect yourself," and assuming a -serious look I bestowed my benediction upon her. - -The Countess sought to collect herself, but I saw very well that -her troubled spirit vainly strove to recover itself. By a singular -phenomenon I could see into her brain, and her thoughts appeared to me -one after the other. She was saying to herself, "Let me collect myself; -our Father, give me grace to collect myself," but the more effort -she made to restrain her imagination the more it became difficult -to restrain and slipped through her fingers. "I had made a serious -examination of my conscience, however," she added. "Not ten minutes ago -as I was getting out of my carriage I counted up three sins; there was -one above all I wished to mention. How these little things escape me! I -must have left them in the carriage." And she could not help smiling to -herself at the idea of these three little sins lost among the cushions. -"And the poor Abbe waiting for me in his box. How hot it must be in -there! he is quite red. Good Heavens! how shall I begin? I can not -invent faults? It is that torn dress which has upset me. And there is -Louise, who is to meet me at five o'clock at the dressmaker's. It is -impossible for me to collect myself. O God, do not turn away your face -from me, and you, Lord, who can read in my soul--Louise will wait till a -quarter past five; besides, the bodice fits--there is only the skirt to -try on. And to think that I had three sins only a minute ago." - -All these different thoughts, pious and profane, were struggling -together at once in the Countess's brain, so that I thought the moment -had come to interfere and help her a little. - -"Come," I said, in a paternal voice, leaning forward benevolently and -twisting my snuff-box in my fingers. "Come, my dear Madame, and speak -fearlessly; have you nothing to reproach yourself with? Have you had no -impulses of--worldly coquetry, no wish to dazzle at the expense of your -neighbor?" - -I had a vague idea that I should not be contradicted. - -"Yes, father," she said, smoothing down her bonnet strings, "sometimes; -but I have always made an effort to drive away such thoughts." - -"That good intention in some degree excuses you, but reflect and see how -empty are these little triumphs of vanity, how unworthy of a truly poor -soul and how they draw it aside from salvation. I know that there are -certain social exigencies--society. Yes, yes, but after all one can even -in those pleasures which the Church tolerates--I say tolerates--bring -to bear that perfume of good-will toward one's neighbor of which the -Scriptures speak, and which is the appanage--in some degree... the -glorious appanage. Yes, yes, go on." - -"Father, I have not been able to resist certain temptations to -gluttony." - -"Again, again! Begin with yourself. You are here at the tribunal of -penitence; well, promise God to struggle energetically against these -little carnal temptations, which are not in themselves serious sins--oh! -no, I know it--but, after all, these constant solicitations prove a -persistent attachment--displeasing to Him--to the fugitive and deceitful -delights of this world. Hum, hum! and has this gluttony shown itself -by more blameworthy actions than usual--is it simply the same as last -month?" - -"The same as last month, father." - -"Yes, yes, pastry between meals," I sighed gravely. - -"Yes, father, and almost always a glass of Capri or of Syracuse after -it." - -"Or of Syracuse after it. Well, let that pass, let that pass." - -I fancied that the mention of this pastry and those choice wines was -becoming a source of straying thoughts on my part, for which I mentally -asked forgiveness of heaven. - -"What else do you recall?" I asked, passing my hand over my face. - -"Nothing else, father; I do not recollect anything else." - -"Well let a sincere repentance spring up in your heart for the sins you -have just admitted, and for those which you may have forgotten; commune -with yourself, humble yourself in the presence of the great act you have -just accomplished. I will give you absolution. Go in peace." - -The Countess rose, smiled at me with discreet courtesy, and, resuming -her ordinary voice, said in a low tone, "Till Saturday evening, then?" - -I bowed as a sign of assent, but felt rather embarrassed on account of -my sacred character. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. AN EMBASSY BALL - -"Don't say that it is not pretty," added my aunt, brushing the firedog -with the tip of her tiny boot. "It lends an especial charm to the look, -I must acknowledge. A cloud of powder is most becoming, a touch of rouge -has a charming effect, and even that blue shadow that they spread, I -don't know how, under the eye. What coquettes some women are! Did -you notice Anna's eyes at Madame de Sieurac's last Thursday? Is it -allowable? Frankly, can you understand how any one can dare?" - -"Well, aunt, I did not object to those eyes, and between ourselves they -had a softness." - -"I do not deny that, they had a softness." - -"And at the same time such a strange brilliancy beneath that half -shadow, an expression of such delicious languor." - -"Yes, certainly, but, after all, it is making an exhibition of one's -self. But for that--it is very pretty sometimes--I have seen in the Bois -charming creatures under their red, their black, and their blue, for -they put on blue too, God forgive me!" - -"Yes, aunt, Polish blue; it is put on with a stump; it is for the -veins." - -With interest: "They imitate veins! It is shocking, upon my word. But -you seem to know all about it?" - -"Oh, I have played so often in private theatricals; I have even quite -a collection of little pots of color, hare's-feet stumps, pencils, et -cetera." - -"Ah! you have, you rascal! Are you going to the fancy ball at the -Embassy to-morrow?" - -"Yes, aunt; and you, are you going in character?" - -"One must, since every one else will. They say the effect will be -splendid." After a silence: "I shall wear powder; do you think it will -suit me?" - -"Better than any one, my dear aunt; you will look adorable, I feel -certain." - -"We shall see, you little courtier." - -She rose, gave me her hand to kiss with an air of exquisite grace, and -seemed about to withdraw, then, seemingly changing her mind: - -"Since you are going to the Embassy to-morrow, Ernest, call for me; I -will give you a seat in the carriage. You can give me your opinion on my -costume, and then," she broke into a laugh, and taking me by the hand, -added in my ear: "Bring your little pots and come early. This is between -ourselves." She put her finger to her lip as a signal for discretion. -"Till tomorrow, then." - -The following evening my aunt's bedroom presented a spectacle of most -wild disorder. - -Her maid and the dressmaker, with haggard eyes, for they had been up all -night, were both on their knees, rummaging amidst the bows of satin, and -feverishly sticking in pins. - -"How late you are," said my aunt to me. "Do you know that it is eleven -o'clock? and we have," she continued, showing her white teeth, "a great -many things to do yet. The horses have been put to this last hour. I -am sure they will take cold in that icy courtyard." As she spoke she -stretched out her foot, shod with a red-heeled slipper, glittering with -gold embroidery. Her plump foot seemed to overflow the side of the shoe -a trifle, and through the openwork of her bright silk stocking the rosy -skin of her ankle showed at intervals. - -"What do you think of me, Monsieur Artist?" - -"But, Countess, my dear aunt, I mean, I--I am dazzled by this July sun, -the brightest of all the year, you know. You are adorable, adorable--and -your hair!" - -"Is it not well arranged? Silvani did it; he has not his equal, that -man. The diamonds in the hair go splendidly, and then this lofty style -of head-dressing gives a majestic turn to the neck. I do not know -whether you are aware that I have always been a coquette as regards -my neck; it is my only bit of vanity. Have you brought your little -color-pots?" - -"Yes, aunt, I have the whole apparatus, and if you will sit down--" - -"I am frightfully pale-just a little, Ernest; you know what I told you," -and she turned her head, presenting her right eye to me. I can still see -that eye. - -I do not know what strange perfume, foreign to aunts in general, rose -from her garments. - -"You understand, my dear boy, that it is only an occasion like the -present, and the necessities of a historical costume, that make me -consent to paint like this." - -"My dear little aunt, if you move, my hand will shake." And, indeed, in -touching her long lashes, my hand trembled. - -"Ah! yes, in the corner, a little--you are right, it gives a softness, -a vagueness, a--it is very funny, that little pot of blue. How ugly it -must be! How things lead on one to another! Once one's hair is powdered, -one must have a little pearl powder on one's face in order not to look -as yellow as an orange; and one's cheeks once whitened, one can't--you -are tickling me with your brush--one can't remain like a miller, so a -touch of rouge is inevitable. And then--see how wicked it is--if, after -all that, one does not enlarge the eyes a bit, they look as if they had -been bored with a gimlet, don't they? It is like this that one goes on -little by little, till one comes to the gallows." - -My aunt began to laugh freely, as she studied her face. - -"Ah! that is very effective what you have just done--well under the -eye, that's it. What animation it gives to the look! How clever those -creatures are, how well they know everything that becomes one! It is -shameful, for with them it is a trick, nothing more. Oh! you may put on -a little more of that blue of yours, I see what it does now. It has a -very good effect. How you are arching the eyebrows. Don't you think it -is a little too black? You know I should not like to look as if--you are -right, though. Where did you learn all that? You might earn a deal of -money, do you know, if you set up a practice." - -"Well, aunt, are you satisfied?" - -My aunt held her hand-glass at a distance, brought it near, held it -away again, smiled, and, leaning back in her chair, said: "It must be -acknowledged that it is charming, this. What do your friends call it?" - -"Make-up, aunt." - -"It is vexatious that it has not another name, for really I shall have -recourse to it for the evening--from time to time. It is certain that it -is attractive. Haven't you a little box for the lips?" - -"Here it is." - -"Ah! in a bottle, it is liquid." - -"It is a kind of vinegar, as you see. Don't move, aunt. Put out your -lips as if you wished to kiss me. You don't by chance want to?" - -"Yes, and you deserve it. You will teach me your little accomplishments, -will you not?" - -"Willingly, aunt." - -"Your vinegar is miraculous! what brightness it gives to the lips, and -how white one's teeth look. It is true my teeth were always--" - -"Another of your bits of vanity." - -"It is done, then. Thank you." She smiled at me mincingly, for the -vinegar stung her lips a little. - -With her moistened finger she took a patch which she placed with -charming coquetry under her eye, and another which she placed near the -corner of her mouth, and then, radiant and adorable, exclaimed: "Hide -away your little color-pots; I hear your uncle coming for me. Clasp my -bracelets for me. Midnight! O my poor horses!" - -At that moment my uncle entered in silk shorts and a domino. - -"I hope I do not intrude," said he, gayly, on seeing me. - -"What nonsense!" said my aunt, turning toward him. "Ernest is going -to the Embassy, like ourselves, and I have offered him a seat in the -carriage." - -At the aspect of my aunt, my uncle, dazzled, held out his gloved hand -to her, saying, "You are enchanting this evening, my dear." Then, with a -sly smile, "Your complexion has a fine brightness, and your eyes have a -wonderful brilliancy." - -"Oh, it is the fire they have been making up--it is stifling here. But -you, my dear, you look splendid; I have never seen your beard so black." - -"It is because I am so pale--I am frozen. Jean forgot to look after my -fire at all, and it went out. Are you ready?" - -My aunt smiled in turn as she took up her fan. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. MY AUNT AS VENUS - -Since that day when I kissed Madame de B. right on the centre of the -neck, as she held out her forehead to me, there has crept into our -intercourse an indescribable, coquettish coolness, which is nevertheless -by no means unpleasant. The matter of the kiss has never been completely -explained. It happened just as I left Saint-Cyr. I was full of ardor, -and the cravings of my heart sometimes blinded me. I say that they -sometimes blinded me; I repeat, blinded me, and this is true, for really -I must have been possessed to have kissed my aunt on the neck as I did -that day. But let that pass. - -It was not that she was hardly worth it; my little auntie, as I used -to call her then, was the prettiest woman in the world--coquettish, -elegant; and what a foot! and, above all, that delightful little--I -don't know what--which is so fashionable now, and which tempts one -always to say too much. - -When I say that I must have been possessed, it is because I think of the -consequences to which that kiss might have led. Her husband, General de -B., being my direct superior, it might have got me into a very awkward -position; besides, there is the respect due to one's family. Oh, I have -never failed in that. - -But I do not know why I am recalling all these old recollections, -which have nothing in common with what I am about to relate to you. My -intention was simply to tell you that since my return from Mexico I go -pretty frequently to Madame de B.'s, as perhaps you do also, for she -keeps up a rather good establishment, receives every Monday evening, -and there is usually a crowd of people at her house, for she is very -entertaining. There is no form of amusement that she does not resort to -in order to keep up her reputation as a woman of fashion. I must own, -however, that I had never seen anything at her house to equal what I saw -last Monday. - -I was in the ante-room, where the footman was helping me off with my -top-coat, when Jean, approaching me with a suspicion of mystery, said: -"My mistress expects to see you immediately, Monsieur, in her bedroom. -If you will walk along the passage and knock at the door at the end, you -will find her." - -When one has just returned from the other side of the world, such words -sound queer. The old affair of the kiss recurred to me in spite of -myself. What could my aunt want with me? - -I tapped quietly at the door, and heard at once an outburst of stifled -laughter. - -"Wait a moment," exclaimed a laughing voice. - -"I won't be seen in this state," whispered another--"Yes"--"No"--"You -are absurd, my dear, since it is an affair of art."--"Ha, ha, ha." And -they laughed and laughed again. - -At last a voice cried, "Come in," and I turned the handle. - -At first glance I could only make out a confused chaos, impossible -to describe, amidst which my aunt was bustling about clad in pink -fleshings. Clad, did I say?--very airily. - -The furniture, the carpet, the mantel-piece were encumbered, almost -buried under a heterogeneous mass of things. Muslin petticoats, tossed -down haphazard, pieces of lace, a cardboard helmet covered with gilt -paper, open jewel-cases, bows of ribbon; curling-tongs, half hidden in -the ashes; and on every side little pots, paint-brushes, odds and ends -of all kinds. Behind two screens, which ran across the room, I could -hear whisperings, and the buzzing sound peculiar to women dressing -themselves. In one corner Silvani--the illustrious Silvani, still -wearing the large white apron he assumes when powdering his clients--was -putting away his powder-puff and turning down his sleeves with a -satisfied air. I stood petrified. What was going on at my aunt's? - -She discovered my astonishment, and without turning round she said in -agitated tones: - -"Ah! is it you, Ernest?" Then as if making up her mind, she broke into a -hearty burst of laughter, like all women who have good teeth, and -added, with a slightly superior air, "You see, we are having private -theatricals." - -Then turning toward me with her elegant coiffure powdered to excess, -I could see that her face was painted like that of a priestess of -antiquity. That gauze, that atmosphere, redolent with feminine perfumes, -and behind those screens-behind those screens! - -"Women in society," I said to myself, looking about me, "must be mad to -amuse themselves in this fashion." - -"And what piece are you going to play, aunt, in such an attractive -costume?" - -"Good evening, Captain," called out a laughing voice from behind the -screen on the right. - -"We were expecting you," came from behind the screen on the left. - -"Good evening, ladies; what can I do for you?" - -"It is not a play," observed my aunt, modestly drawing together her -sea-weed draperies. "How behind the age you are, to think that any one -plays set-pieces nowadays. It is not a piece, it is a 'tableau vivant', -'The judgment of Paris.' You know 'The Judgment of Paris'? I take the -part of Venus--I did not want to, but they all urged me--give me a -pin--on the mantelpiece--near the bag of bonbons--there to the left, -next to the jewel-case--close by the bottle of gum standing on my -prayer-book. Can't you see? Ah! at last. In short, the knife to my -throat to compel me to play Venus." - -Turning to the screen on the right she said: "Pass me the red for the -lips, dear; mine are too pale." To the hairdresser, who is making his -way to the door: "Silvani, go to the gentlemen who are dressing in the -billiard-room, and in the Baron's dressing-room, they perhaps may need -you. Madame de S. and her daughters are in the boudoir--ah! see whether -Monsieur de V. has found his apple again--he plays Paris," added my -aunt, turning toward me once more; "the apple must not be lost--well, -dear, and that red for the lips I asked you for? Pass it to the Captain -over the screen." - -"Here it is; but make haste, Captain, my cuirass cracks as soon as I -raise my arm." - -I descried above the screen two slender fingers, one of which, covered -with glittering rings, held in the air a little pot without a cover. - -"What,--is your cuirass cracking, Marchioness?" - -"Oh! it will do, but make haste and take it, Captain." - -"You may think it strange, but I tremble like a leaf," exclaimed my -aunt. "I am afraid of being ill. Do you hear the gentlemen who are -dressing in there in the Baron's dressing room? What a noise! Ha! ha! -ha! it is charming, a regular gang of strollers. It is exhilarating, do -you know, this feverish existence, this life in front of the footlights. -But, for the love of Heaven, shut the door, Marie, there is a frightful -draught blowing on me. This hourly struggle with the public, the hisses, -the applause, would, with my impressionable nature, drive me mad, I am -sure." - -The old affair of the kiss recurred to me and I said to myself, -"Captain, you misunderstood the nature of your relative." - -"But that is not the question at all," continued my aunt; "ten o'clock -is striking. Ernest, can you apply liquid white? As you are rather -experienced--" - -"Rather--ha! ha! ha!" said some one behind the screen. - -"On the whole," continued the Baroness, "it would be very singular -if, in the course of your campaigns, you had never seen liquid white -applied." - -"Yes, aunt, I have some ideas; yes, I have some ideas about liquid -white, and by summoning together all my recollections--" - -"Is it true, Captain, that it causes rheumatism?" - -"No, not at all; have a couple of logs put on the fire and give me the -stuff." - -So saying, I turned up my sleeves and poured some of the "Milk of -Beauty" into a little onyx bowl that was at hand, then I dipped a little -sponge into it, and approached my Aunt Venus with a smile. - -"You are sure that it has no effect on the skin--no, I really dare not." -As she said this she looked as prim as a vestal. "It is the first time, -do you know, that I ever used this liquid white, ah! ah! ah! What a baby -I am! I am all in a shiver." - -"But, my dear, you are foolish," exclaimed the lady of the screen, -breaking into a laugh; "when one acts one must submit to the exigencies -of the footlights." - -"You hear, aunt? Come, give me your arm." - -She held out her full, round arm, on the surface of which was spread -that light and charming down, symbol of maturity. I applied the wet -sponge. - -"Oh! oh! oh!" exclaimed the Baroness; "it is like ice, a regular -shower-bath, and you want to put that all over me?" - -Just then there was a knock at the door which led out of the Baron's -dressing-room, and instinctively I turned toward it. - -"Who's there? Oh! you are letting it splutter all over me!" exclaimed -the Baroness. "You can't come in; what is it?" - -"What is the matter, aunt?" - -"You can't come in," exclaimed some one behind the screen; "my cuirass -has split. Marie, Rosine, a needle and thread, the gum." - -"Oh! there is a stream all down my back, your horrid white is running -down," said the Baroness, in a rage. - -"I will wipe it. I am really very sorry." - -"Can you get your hand down my back, do you think?" - -"Why not, aunt?" - -"Why not, why not! Because where there is room for a drop of water, -there is not room for the hand of a lancer." - -Another knock, this time at the door opening from the passage. - -"What is it now?" - -"The torches have come, Madame," said a footman. "Will you have them -lighted?" - -"Ah! the torches of Mesdemoiselles de N., who are dressing in the -boudoir. No, certainly not, do not light them, they are not wanted till -the second tableau." - -"Do not stir, aunt, I beg of you. Mesdemoiselles de N. appears too, -then?" - -"Yes, with their mamma; they represent 'The Lights of Faith driving out -Unbelief,' thus they naturally require torches. You know, they are tin -tubes with spirits of wine which blazes up. It will be, perhaps, the -prettiest tableau of the evening. It is an indirect compliment we wish -to pay to the Cardinal's nephew; you know the dark young man with very -curly hair and saintly eyes; you saw him last Monday. He is in high -favor at court. The Comte de Geloni was kind enough to promise to -come this evening, and then Monsieur de Saint P. had the idea of this -tableau. His imagination is boundless, Monsieur de Saint P., not to -mention his good taste, if he would not break his properties." - -"Is he not also a Chevalier of the Order of Saint Gregory?" - -"Yes, and, between ourselves, I think that he would not be sorry to -become an officer in it." - -"Ah! I understand, 'The Lights of Faith driving out,' et cetera. But -tell me, aunt, am I not brushing you too hard? Lift up your arm a -little, please. Tell me who has undertaken the part of Unbelief?" - -"Don't speak of it, it is quite a history. As it happened, the casting -of the parts took place the very evening on which his Holiness's -Encyclical was published, so that the gentlemen were somewhat excited. -Monsieur de Saint P. took high ground, really very high ground; indeed, -I thought for a moment that the General was going to flare out. In -short, no one would have anything to do with Unbelief, and we had to -have recourse to the General's coachman, John--you know him? He is a -good-looking fellow; he is a Protestant, moreover, so that the part is -not a novel one to him." - -"No matter, it will be disagreeable for the De N.'s to appear side by -side with a servant." - -"Come! such scruples must not be carried too far; he is smeared over -with black and lies stretched on his face, while the three ladies -trample on him, so you see that social proprieties are observed after -all. Come, have you done yet? My hair is rather a success, is it not? -Silvani is the only man who understands how to powder one. He wanted -to dye it red, but I prefer to wait till red hair has found its way a -little more into society." - -"There; it is finished, aunt. Is it long before you have to go on?" - -"No. Good Heavens, it is close on eleven o'clock! The thought of -appearing before all these people--don't the flowers drooping from my -head make my neck appear rather awkward, Ernest? Will you push them up a -little?" - -Then going to the door of the dressing-room she tapped at it gently, -saying, "Are you ready, Monsieur de V.?" - -"Yes, Baroness, I have found my apple, but I am horribly nervous. Are -Minerva and Juno dressed? Oh! I am nervous to a degree you have no idea -of." - -"Yes, yes, every one is ready; send word to the company in the -drawing-room. My poor heart throbs like to burst, Captain." - - - - -CHAPTER IX. HUSBAND AND WIFE MY DEAR SISTERS: - -Marriage, as it is now understood, is not exactly conducive to love. In -this I do not think that I am stating an anomaly. Love in marriage is, -as a rule, too much at his ease; he stretches himself with too -great listlessness in armchairs too well cushioned. He assumes the -unconstrained habits of dressing-gown and slippers; his digestion goes -wrong, his appetite fails and of an evening, in the too-relaxing warmth -of a nest, made for him, he yawns over his newspaper, goes to sleep, -snores, and pines away. It is all very well, my sisters, to say, "But -not at all--but how can it be, Father Z.?--you know nothing about it, -reverend father." - -I maintain that things are as I have stated, and that at heart you are -absolutely of my opinion. Yes, your poor heart has suffered very often; -there are nights during which you have wept, poor angel, vainly awaiting -the dream of the evening before. - -"Alas!" you say, "is it then all over? One summer's day, then thirty -years of autumn, to me, who am so fond of sunshine." That is what you -have thought. - -But you say nothing, not knowing what you should say. Lacking -self-confidence and ignorant of yourself, you have made it a virtue to -keep silence and not wake your husband while he sleeps; you have got -into the habit of walking on the tips of your toes so as not to disturb -the household, and your husband, in the midst of this refreshing -half-sleep, has begun to yawn luxuriously; then he has gone out to his -club, where he has been received like the prodigal son, while you, poor -poet without pen or ink, have consoled yourself by watching your sisters -follow the same road as yourself. - -You have, all of you, ladies, your pockets full of manuscripts, charming -poems, delightful romances; it is a reader who is lacking to you, -and your husband takes up his hat and stick at the very sight of your -handwriting; he firmly believes that there are no more romances except -those already in print. From having read so many, he considers that no -more can be written. - -This state of things I regard as absolutely detestable. I look upon you, -my dear sisters, as poor victims, and if you will permit I will give you -my opinion on the subject. - -Esteem and friendship between husband and wife are like our daily bread, -very pleasant and respectable; but a little jam would not spoil that, -you will admit! If, therefore, one of your friends complains of the -freedom that reigns in this little book, let her talk on and be sure -beforehand that this friend eats dry bread. We have described marriage -as we think it should be--depicting smiling spouses, delighted to be -together. - -Is it because love is rare as between husband and wife that it is -considered unbecoming to relate its joys? Is it regret, or envy, that -renders you fastidious on the subject, sisters? Reserve your blushes for -the pictures of that society of courtesans where love is an article of -commerce, where kisses are paid for in advance. Regard the relation of -these coarse pleasures as immodest and revolting, be indignant, scold -your brethren--I will admit that you are in the right beforehand; but -for Heaven's sake do not be offended if we undertake your defence, -when we try to render married life pleasant and attractive, and advise -husbands to love their wives, wives to love their husbands. - -You must understand that there is a truly moral side to all this. To -prove that you are adorable; that there are pleasures, joys, happiness, -to be found outside the society of those young women--such is our -object; and since we are about to describe it, we venture to hope that -after reflecting for a few minutes you will consider our intentions -praiseworthy, and encourage us to persevere in them. - -I do not know why mankind has chosen to call marriage a man-trap, and -all sorts of frightful things; to stick up all round it boards on which -one reads: "Beware of the sacred ties of marriage;" "Do not jest with -the sacred duties of a husband;" "Meditate on the sacred obligation of -a father of a family;" "Remember that the serious side of life is -beginning;" "No weakness; henceforth you are bound to find yourself face -to face with stern reality," etc., etc. - -I will not say that it is imprudent to set forth all those fine things; -but when done it should be done with less affectation. To warn people -that there are thorns in the path is all very well; but, hang it! there -is something else in married life, something that renders these duties -delightful, else this sacred position and these ties would soon be -nothing more than insupportable burdens. One would really think that -to take to one's self a pretty little wife, fresh in heart and pure in -mind, and to condemn one's self to saw wood for the rest of one's days, -were one and the same thing. - -Well, my dear sisters, have you any knowledge of those who have painted -the picture in these gloomy colors and described as a punishment that -which should be a reward? They are the husbands with a past and having -rheumatism. Being weary and--how shall I put it?--men of the world, they -choose to represent marriage as an asylum, of which you are to be the -angels. No doubt to be an angel is very nice, but, believe me, it is -either too much or too little. Do not seek to soar so high all at once, -but, instead, enter on a short apprenticeship. It will be time enough to -don the crown of glory when you have no longer hair enough to dress in -any other fashion. - -But, O husbands with a past! do you really believe that your own angelic -quietude and the studied austerity of your principles are taken for -anything else than what they really mean--exhaustion? - -You wish to rest; well and good; but it is wrong in you to wish -everybody else about you to rest too; to ask for withered trees and -faded grass in May, the lamps turned down and the lamp-shades doubled; -to require one to put water in the soup and to refuse one's self a -glass of claret; to look for virtuous wives to be highly respectable -and somewhat wearisome beings; dressing neatly, but having had neither -poetry, youth, gayety, nor vague desires; ignorant of everything, -undesirous of learning anything; helpless, thanks to the weighty virtues -with which you have crammed them; above all, to ask of these poor -creatures to bless your wisdom, caress your bald forehead, and blush -with shame at the echo of a kiss. - -The deuce! but that is a pretty state of things for marriage to come to. - -Delightful institution! How far are your sons, who are now -five-and-twenty years of age, in the right in being afraid of it! Have -they not a right to say to you, twirling their moustaches: - -"But, my dear father, wait a bit; I am not quite ripe for it!" - -"Yes; but it is a splendid match, and the young lady is charming." - -"No doubt, but I feel that I should not make her happy. I am not old -enough--indeed, I am not." - -And when the young man is seasoned for it, how happy she will be, poor -little thing!--a ripe husband, ready to fall from the tree, fit to be -put away in the apple-loft! What happiness! a good husband, who the day -after his marriage will piously place his wife in a niche and light a -taper in front of her; then take his hat and go off to spend elsewhere a -scrap of youth left by chance at the bottom of his pocket. - -Ah! my good little sisters who are so very much shocked and cry "Shame!" -follow our reasoning a little further. It is all very well that you -should be treated like saints, but do not let it be forgotten that you -are women, and, listen to me, do not forget it yourselves. - -A husband, majestic and slightly bald, is a good thing; a young husband -who loves you and eats off the same plate is better. If he rumples your -dress a little, and imprints a kiss, in passing, on the back of your -neck, let him. When, on coming home from a ball, he tears out the pins, -tangles the strings, and laughs like a madman, trying to see whether you -are ticklish, let him. Do not cry "Murder!" if his moustache pricks you, -but think that it is all because at heart he loves you well. He worships -your virtues; is it surprising hence that he should cherish their -outward coverings? No doubt you have a noble soul; but your body is -not therefore to be despised; and when one loves fervently, one loves -everything at the same time. Do not be alarmed if in the evening, when -the fire is burning brightly and you are chatting gayly beside it, he -should take off one of your shoes and stockings, put your foot on his -lap, and in a moment of forgetfulness carry irreverence so far as to -kiss it; if he likes to pass your large tortoise-shell comb through your -hair, if he selects your perfumes, arranges your plaits, and suddenly -exclaims, striking his forehead: "Sit down there, darling; I have an -idea how to arrange a new coiffure." - -If he turns up his sleeves and by chance tangles your curls, where -really is the harm? Thank Heaven if in the marriage which you have hit -upon you find a laughing, joyous side; if in your husband you find the -loved reader of the pretty romance you have in your pocket; if, while -wearing cashmere shawls and costly jewels in your ears, you find the -joys of a real intimacy--that is delicious! In short, reckon yourself -happy if in your husband you find a lover. - -But before accepting my theories, ladies, although in your heart -and conscience you find them perfect, you will have several little -prejudices to overcome; above all, you will have to struggle against -your education, which is deplorable, as I have already said, but that is -no great matter. Remember that under the pretext of education you have -been stuffed, my dear sisters. You have been varnished too soon, like -those pictures painted for sales, which crack all over six months after -purchase. Your disposition has not been properly directed; you are not -cultivated; you have been stifled, pruned; you have been shaped like -those yew-trees at Versailles which represent goblets and birds. Still, -you are women at the bottom, though you no longer look it. - -You are handed over to us men swaddled, distorted, stuffed with -prejudices and principles, heavy as paving-stones; all of which are the -more difficult to dislodge since you look upon them as sacred; you are -started on the matrimonial journey with so much luggage reckoned as -indispensable; and at the first station your husband, who is not an -angel, loses his temper amidst all these encumbrances, sends it all to -the devil under some pretext or other, lets you go on alone, and gets -into another carriage. I do not require, mark me, that you should be -allowed to grow up uncared for, that good or evil instincts should be -suffered to spring up in you anyhow: but it were better that they should -not treat your poor mind like the foot of a well-born Chinese girl--that -they should not enclose it in a porcelain slipper. - -A marriageable young lady is a product of maternal industry, which takes -ten years to fructify, and needs from five to six more years of study on -the part of the husband to purify, strip, and restore to its real shape. -In other words, it takes ten years to make a bride and six years at -least to turn this bride into a woman again. Admit frankly that this is -time lost as regards happiness, but try to make it up if your husband -will permit you to do so. - -The sole guaranty of fidelity between husband and wife is love. One -remains side by side with a fellow-traveller only so long as one -experiences pleasure and happiness in his company. Laws, decrees, oaths, -may prevent faithlessness, or at least punish it, but they can neither -hinder nor punish intention. But as regards love, intention and deed are -the same. - -Is it not true, my dear sisters, that you are of this opinion? Do -not you thoroughly understand that if love is absent from marriage it -should, on the contrary, be its real pivot? To make one's self lovable -is the main thing. Believe my white hairs that it is so, and let me give -you some more advice. - -Yes, I favor marriage--I do not conceal it--the happy marriage in which -we cast into the common lot our ideas and our sorrows, as well as -our good-humor and our affections. Suppress, by all means, in this -partnership, gravity and affectation, yet add a sprinkling of gallantry -and good-fellowship. Preserve even in your intimacy that coquetry you -so readily assume in society. Seek to please your husband. Be amiable. -Consider that your husband is an audience, whose sympathy you must -conquer. - -In your manner of loving mark those shades, those feminine delicacies, -which double the price of things. Do not be miserly, but remember that -the manner in which one gives adds to the value of the gift; or rather -do not give--make yourself sought after. Think of those precious jewels -that are arranged with such art in their satin-lined jewel-case; never -forget the case. Let your nest be soft, let your presence be felt in -all its thousand trifles. Put a little of yourself into the ordering of -everything. Be artistic, delicate, and refined--you can do so without -effort--and let your husband perceive in everything that surrounds him, -from the lace on the curtains to the perfume that you use, a wish on -your part to please him. - -Do not say to him, "I love you"; that phrase may perhaps recall to him -a recollection or two. But lead him on to say to you, "You do love me, -then?" and answer "No," but with a little kiss which means "Yes." Make -him feel beside you the present to be so pleasant that the past will -fade from his memory; and to this end let nothing about you recall that -past, for, despite himself, he would never forgive it in you. Do not -imitate the women whom he may have known, nor their head-dresses or -toilettes; that would tend to make him believe he has not changed his -manner of life. You have in yourself another kind of grace, another wit, -another coquetry, and above all that rejuvenescence of heart and mind -which those women have never had. You have an eagerness in life, a need -of expansion, a freshness of impression which are--though perhaps you -may not imagine it--irresistible charms. Be yourselves throughout, -and you will be for this loved spouse a novelty, a thousand times more -charming in his eyes than all the bygones possible. Conceal from him -neither your inclinations nor your inexperience, your childish joys or -your childish fears; but be as coquettish with all these as you are of -the features of your face, of your fine, black eyes and your long, fair -hair. - -Nothing is more easily acquired than a little adroitness; do not throw -yourself at his head, and always have confidence in yourself. - -Usually, a man marries when he thinks himself ruined; when he feels in -his waistcoat pocket--not a louis--he is then seasoned; he goes at once -before the registrar. But let me tell you, sisters, he is still rich. -He has another pocket of which he knows nothing, the fool! and which is -full of gold. It is for you to act so that he shall find it out and be -grateful to you for the happiness he has had in finding a fortune. - -I will sum up, at once, as time is flying and I should not like you to -be late for dinner. For Heaven's sake, ladies, tear from the clutches -of the women, whose toilettes you do very wrong in imitating, your -husbands' affections. Are you not more refined, more sprightly, than -they? Do for him whom you love that which these women do for all the -world; do not content yourselves with being virtuous--be attractive, -perfume your hair, nurture illusion as a rare plant in a golden -vase. Cultivate a little folly when practicable; put away your -marriage-contract and look at it only once in ten years; love one -another as if you had not sworn to do so; forget that there are bonds, -contracts, pledges; banish from your mind the recollection of the Mayor -and his scarf. Sometimes when you are alone fancy that you are only -sweethearts; sister, is not that what you eagerly desire? - -Ah! let candor and youth flourish. Let us love and laugh while spring -blossoms. Let us love our babies, the little dears, and kiss our wives. -Yes, that is moral and healthy; the world is not a shivering convent, -marriage is not a tomb. Shame on those who find in it only sadness, -boredom, and sleep. - -My sisters, my sisters, strive to be real; that is the blessing I wish -you. - - - - -CHAPTER X. MADAME'S IMPRESSIONS - -The marriage ceremony at the Town Hall has, no doubt, a tolerable -importance; but is it really possible for a well-bred person to regard -this importance seriously? I have been through it; I have undergone like -every one else this painful formality, and I can not look back on it -without feeling a kind of humiliation. On alighting from the carriage I -descried a muddy staircase; walls placarded with bills of every color, -and in front of one of them a man in a snuff-colored coat, bare-headed, -a pen behind his ear, and papers under his arm, who was rolling a -cigarette between his inky fingers. To the left a door opened and I -caught a glimpse of a low dark room in which a dozen fellows belonging -to the National Guard were smoking black pipes. My first thought on -entering this barrack-room was that I had done wisely in not putting on -my gray dress. We ascended the staircase and I saw a long, dirty, dim -passage, with a number of half-glass doors, on which I read: "Burials. -Turn the handle," "Expropriations," "Deaths. Knock loudly," "Inquiries," -"Births," "Public Health," etc., and at length "Marriages." - -We entered in company with a small lad who was carrying a bottle of -ink; the atmosphere was thick, heavy, and hot, and made one feel ill. -Happily, an attendant in a blue livery, resembling in appearance the -soldiers I had seen below, stepped forward to ask us to excuse him for -not having at once ushered us into the Mayor's drawing-room, which is no -other than the first-class waiting-room. I darted into it as one jumps -into a cab when it begins to rain suddenly. Almost immediately two -serious persons, one of whom greatly resembled the old cashier at the -Petit-Saint-Thomas, brought in two registers, and, opening them, wrote -for some time; only stopping occasionally to ask the name, age, -and baptismal names of both of us, then, saying to themselves, -"Semi-colon... between the aforesaid... fresh paragraph, etc., etc." - -When he had done, the one like the man cashier at the Petit-Saint-Thomas -read aloud, through his nose, that which he had put down, and of which I -could understand nothing, except that my name was several times repeated -as well as that of the other "aforesaid." A pen was handed to us and we -signed. Voila. - -"Is it over?" said I to Georges, who to my great surprise was very pale. - -"Not yet, dear," said he; "we must now go into the hall, where the -marriage ceremony takes place." - -We entered a large, empty hall with bare walls; a bust of the Emperor -was at the farther end over a raised platform, some armchairs, and some -benches behind them, and dust upon everything. I must have been in a -wrong mood, for it seemed to me I was entering the waiting-room at a -railway-station; nor could I help looking at my aunts, who were very -merry, over the empty chairs. The gentlemen, who no doubt affected not -to think as we did, were, on the contrary, all very serious, and I could -discern very well that Georges was actually trembling. At length the -Mayor came in by a little door and appeared before us, awkward and podgy -in his dress-coat, which was too large for him, and which his scarf -caused to rise up. He was a very respectable man who had amassed a -decent fortune from the sale of iron bedsteads; yet how could I bring -myself to think that this embarrassed-looking, ill-dressed, timid little -creature could, with a word hesitatingly uttered, unite me in eternal -bonds? Moreover, he had a fatal likeness to my piano-tuner. - -The Mayor, after bowing to us, as a man bows when without his hat, and -in a white cravat, that is to say, clumsily, blew his nose, to the -great relief of his two arms which he did not know what to do with, and -briskly began the little ceremony. He hurriedly mumbled over several -passages of the Code, giving the numbers of the paragraphs; and I was -given confusedly to understand that I was threatened with the police if -I did not blindly obey all the orders and crotchets of my husband, and -if I did not follow wherever he might choose to take me, even if it -should be to a sixth floor in the Rue-Saint-Victor. A score of times -I was on the point of interrupting the Mayor, and saying, "Excuse me, -Monsieur, but those remarks are hardly polite as regards myself, and you -yourself must know that they are devoid of meaning." - -But I restrained myself for fear I might frighten the magistrate, who -seemed to me to be in a hurry to finish. He added, however, a few words -on the mutual duties of husband and wife--copartnership--paternity, -etc., etc.; but all these things, which would perhaps have made me weep -anywhere else, seemed grotesque to me, and I could not forget that dozen -of soldiers playing piquet round the stove, and that row of doors on -which I had read "Public Health," "Burials," "Deaths," "Expropriations," -etc. I should have been aggrieved at this dealer in iron bedsteads -touching on my cherished dreams if the comic side of the situation had -not absorbed my whole attention, and if a mad wish to laugh outright had -not seized me. - -"Monsieur Georges--------, do you swear to take for your wife -Mademoiselle-----------," said the Mayor, bending forward. - -My husband bowed and answered "Yes" in a very low voice. He has since -acknowledged to me that he never felt more emotion in his life than in -uttering that "Yes." - -"Mademoiselle Berthe--------," continued the magistrate, turning to me, -"do you swear to take for your husband-----------" - -I bowed, with a smile, and said to myself: "Certainly; that is plain -enough; I came here for that express purpose." - -That was all. I was married! - -My father and my husband shook hands like men who had not met for twenty -years; the eyes of both were moist. As for myself, it was impossible for -me to share their emotion. I was very hungry, and mamma and I had -the carriage pulled up at the pastry-cook's before going on to the -dressmaker's. - -The next morning was the great event, and when I awoke it was hardly -daylight. I opened the door leading into the drawing-room; there my -dress was spread out on the sofa, the veil folded beside it, my shoes, -my wreath in a large white box, nothing was lacking. I drank a glass -of water. I was nervous, uneasy, happy, trembling. It seemed like the -morning of a battle when one is sure of winning a medal. I thought of -neither my past nor my future; I was wholly taken up with the idea of -the ceremony, of that sacrament, the most solemn of all, of the oath -I was about to take before God, and also by the thought of the crowd -gathered expressly to see me pass. - -We breakfasted early. My father was in his boots, his trousers, his -white tie, and his dressing-gown. My mother also was half dressed. It -seemed to me that the servants took greater pains in waiting on me -and showed me more respect. I even remember that Marie said, "The -hairdresser has come, Madame." Madame! Good girl, I have not forgotten -it. - -It was impossible for me to eat; my throat was parched and I experienced -all over me shudders of impatience, something like the sensation one has -when one is very-thirsty and is waiting for the sugar to melt. The -tones of the organ seemed to haunt me, and the wedding of Emma and Louis -recurred to my mind. I dressed; the hairdresser called me "Madame" too, -and arranged my hair so nicely that I said, I remember, "Things are -beginning well; this coiffure is a good omen." I stopped Marie, who -wished to lace me tighter than usual. I know that white makes one look -stouter and that Marie was right; but I was afraid lest it should send -the blood to my head. I have always had a horror of brides who looked -as if they had just got up from table. Religious emotions should be too -profound to be expressed by anything save pallor. It is silly to blush -under certain circumstances. - -When I was dressed I entered the drawing-room to have a little more room -and to spread out my trailing skirts. My father and Georges were already -there, talking busily. - -"Have the carriages come?--yes--and about the 'Salutaris'?--very good, -then, you will see to everything--and the marriage coin--certainly, -I have the ring--Mon Dieu! where is my certificate of confession? Ah! -good, I left it in the carriage." - -They were saying all this hurriedly and gesticulating like people having -great business on hand. When Georges caught sight of me he kissed my -hand, and while the maids kneeling about me were settling the skirt, and -the hairdresser was clipping the tulle of the veil, he said in a husky -voice, "You look charming, dear." - -He was not thinking in the least of what he was saying, and I answered -mechanically: - -"Do you think so? Not too short, the veil, Monsieur Silvani. Don't -forget the bow on the bodice, Marie." - -When one has to look after everything, one needs all one's wits. -However, Georges' husky voice recurred to me, and I said to myself, "I -am sure that he has caught a cold; it is plain that he has had his hair -cut too short." - -I soon got at the true state of the case. - -"You have a cold, my dear fellow," said my father. - -"Don't speak of it," he answered in a low voice. And still lower, and -with a somewhat embarrassed smile: "Will you be so kind as to give me an -extra pocket-handkerchief? I have but one--" - -"Certainly, my dear boy." - -"Thanks, very much." - -It was a trifle, to be sure, but I felt vexed, and I remember that, -when going downstairs with them holding up my train behind me, I said to -myself, "I do hope that he does not sneeze at the altar." - -I soon forgot all about it. We got into the carriage; I felt that every -one was looking at me, and I caught sight of groups of spectators in the -street beyond the carriage gates. What I felt is impossible to describe, -but it was something delightful. The sound of the beadles' canes on the -pavement will forever reecho in my heart. We halted for a moment on the -red drugget. The great organ poured forth the full tones of a triumphal -march; thousands of eager faces turned toward me, and there in the -background, amidst an atmosphere of sunshine, incense, velvet, and gold, -were two gilt armchairs for us to seat ourselves on before the altar. - -I do not know why an old engraving in my father's study crossed my mind. -It represents the entry of Alexander the Great into Babylon; he is on -an elephant which is glittering with precious stones. You must know it. -Only, Alexander was a heathen who had many things to reproach himself -with, while I was not. - -God smiled on me, and with His paternal hand invited me to seat myself -in His house, on His red drugget, in His gilt armchair. The heavens, -full of joy, made music for me, and on high, through the glittering -stained-glass windows, the archangels, full of kind feeling, whispered -as they watched me. As I advanced, heads were bent as a wheat-field -bends beneath the breeze. My friends, my relatives, my enemies, bowed to -us, and I saw--for one sees everything in spite of one's self on -these solemn occasions--that they did not think that I looked ugly. On -reaching the gilt chair, I bent forward with restrained eagerness--my -chignon was high, revealing my neck, which is passable--and thanked -the Lord. The organ ceased its triumphal song and I could hear my poor -mother bursting into tears beside me. Oh! I understand what a mother's -heart must feel during such a ceremony. While watching with satisfaction -the clergy who were solemnly advancing, I noticed Georges; he seemed -irritated; he was stiff, upright, his nostrils dilated, and his lips -set. I have always been rather vexed at him for not having been a -little more sensible to what I was experiencing that day, but men do not -understand this kind of poetry. - -The discourse of his Reverence who married us was a masterpiece, and was -delivered, moreover, with that unction, that dignity, that persuasive -charm peculiar to him. He spoke of our two families "in which pious -belief was hereditary, like honor." You could have heard a pin drop, -such was the attention with which the prelate's voice was listened to. -Then at one point he turned toward me, and gave me to understand with -a thousand delicacies that I was wedding one of the noblest officers in -the army. "Heaven smiles," said he, "on the warrior who places at the -service of his country a sword blessed by God, and who, when he darts -into the fray, can place his hand upon his heart and shout to the -enemy that noble war-cry, 'I believe!'" How well that was turned! What -grandeur in this holy eloquence! A thrill ran through the assembly. But -that was not all. His Lordship then addressed Georges in a voice as soft -and unctuous as it had before been ringing and enthusiastic. - -"Monsieur, you are about to take as your companion a young girl"--I -scarcely dare recall the graceful and delicate things that his Reverence -said respecting me--"piously reared by a Christian mother who has been -able to share with her, if I may say so, all the virtues of her heart, -all the charms of her mind." (Mamma was sobbing.) "She will love her -husband as she has loved her father, that father full of kindness, -who, from the cradle, implanted in her the sentiments of nobility and -disinterestedness which--" (Papa smiled despite himself.) "Her father, -whose name is known to the poor, and who in the house of God has his -place marked among the elect." (Since his retirement, papa has become -churchwarden.) "And you, Monsieur, will respect, I feel certain, so much -purity, such ineffable candor"--I felt my eyes grow moist--"and without -forgetting the physical and perishable charms of this angel whom God -bestows upon you, you will thank Heaven for those qualities a thousand -times more precious and more lasting contained in her heart and her -mind." - -We were bidden to stand up, and stood face to face with one another like -the divine spouses in the picture of Raphael. We exchanged the golden -ring, and his Reverence, in a slow, grave voice, uttered some Latin -words, the sense of which I did not understand, but which greatly moved -me, for the prelate's hand, white, delicate, and transparent, seemed to -be blessing me. The censer, with its bluish smoke, swung by the hands of -children, shed in the air its holy perfume. What a day, great heavens! -All that subsequently took place grows confused in my memory. I was -dazzled, I was transported. I can remember, however, the bonnet with -white roses in which Louise had decked herself out. Strange it is how -some people are quite wanting in taste! - -Going to the vestry, I leaned on the General's arm, and it was then that -I saw the spectators' faces. All seemed touched. - -Soon they thronged round to greet me. The vestry was full, they pushed -and pressed round me, and I replied to all these smiles, to all these -compliments, by a slight bow in which religious emotion peeped forth in -spite of me. I felt conscious that something solemn had just taken place -before God and man; I felt conscious of being linked in eternal bonds. I -was married! - -By a strange fancy I then fell to thinking of the pitiful ceremony of -the day before. I compared--God forgive me for doing so!--the ex-dealer -in iron bedsteads, ill at ease in his dress-coat, to the priest; the -trivial and commonplace words of the mayor, with the eloquent outbursts -of the venerable prelate. What a lesson! There earth, here heaven; there -the coarse prose of the man of business, here celestial poesy. - -Georges, to whom I lately spoke about this, said: - -"But, my dear, perhaps you don't know that marriage at the Town Hall -before the registrar is gratis, while--" I put my hand over his mouth to -prevent him from finishing; it seemed to me that he was about to utter -some impiety. - -Gratis, gratis. That is exactly what I find so very unseemly. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. A WEDDING NIGHT - -Thanks to country manners and the solemnity of the occasion, the guests -had left fairly early. Almost every one had shaken hands with me, -some with a cunning smile and others with a foolish one, some with an -officious gravity that suggested condolence, and others with a stupid -cordiality verging on indiscretion. - -General de S. and the prefect, two old friends of the family, were -lingering over a game of ecarte, and frankly, in spite of all the -good-will I bore toward them, I should have liked to see them at the -devil, so irritable did I feel that evening. - -All this took place, I had forgotten to tell you, the very day of -my marriage, and I was really rather tired. Since morning I had been -overwhelmed by an average of about two hundred people, all actuated by -the best intentions, but as oppressive as the atmosphere before a storm. -Since morning I had kept up a perpetual smile for all, and then the good -village priest who had married us had thought it his duty, in a very -neat sermon so far as the rest of it went, to compare me to Saint -Joseph, and that sort of thing is annoying when one is Captain in -a lancer regiment. The Mayor, who had been good enough to bring his -register to the chateau, had for his part not been able, on catching -sight of the prefect, to resist the pleasure of crying, "Long live the -Emperor!" On quitting the church they had fired off guns close to my -ears and presented me with an immense bouquet. Finally--I tell you this -between ourselves--since eight o'clock in the morning I had had on a -pair of boots rather too tight for me, and at the moment this narrative -begins it was about half an hour after midnight. - -I had spoken to every one except my dear little wife, whom they seemed -to take pleasure in keeping away from me. Once, however, on ascending -the steps, I had squeezed her hand on the sly. Even then this rash act -had cost me a look, half sharp and half sour, from my mother-in-law, -which had recalled me to a true sense of the situation. If, Monsieur, -you happen to have gone through a similar day of violent effusion and -general expansion, you will agree with me that during no other moment of -your life were you more inclined to irritability. - -What can you say to the cousins who kiss you, to the aunts who cling -round your neck and weep into your waistcoat, to all these smiling faces -ranged one beyond the other before you, to all those eyes which have -been staring at you for twelve hours past, to all those outbursts of -affection which you have not sought, but which claim a word from the -heart in reply? - -At the end of such a day one's very heart is foundered. You say to -yourself: "Come, is it all over? Is there yet a tear to wipe away, -a compliment to receive, an agitated hand to clasp? Is every one -satisfied? Have they seen enough of the bridegroom? Does any one want -any more of him? Can I at length give a thought to my own happiness, -think of my dear little wife who is waiting for me with her head buried -in the folds of her pillow? Who is waiting for me!" That flashes through -your mind all at once like a train of powder. You had not thought of -it. During the whole of the day this luminous side of the question had -remained veiled, but the hour approaches, at this very moment the silken -laces of her bodice are swishing as they are unloosed; she is blushing, -agitated, and dare not look at herself in the glass for fear of noting -her own confusion. Her aunt and her mother, her cousin and her bosom -friend, surround and smile at her, and it is a question of who shall -unhook her dress, remove the orange-blossoms from her hair, and have the -last kiss. - -Good! now come the tears; they are wiped away and followed by kisses. -The mother whispers something in her ear about a sacrifice, the future, -necessity, obedience, and finds means to mingle with these simple but -carefully prepared words the hope of celestial benedictions and of the -intercession of a dove or two hidden among the curtains. - -The poor child does not understand anything about it, except it be that -something unheard-of is about to take place, that the young man--she -dare not call him anything else in her thoughts--is about to appear as a -conqueror and address her in wondrous phrases, the very anticipation of -which makes her quiver with impatience and alarm. The child says not a -word--she trembles, she weeps, she quivers like a partridge in a furrow. -The last words of her mother, the last farewells of her family, ring -confusedly in her ears, but it is in vain that she strives to seize on -their meaning; her mind--where is that poor mind of hers? She really -does not know, but it is no longer under her control. - -"Ah! Captain," I said to myself, "what joys are hidden beneath these -alarms, for she loves you. Do you remember that kiss which she let you -snatch coming out of church that evening when the Abbe What's-his-name -preached so well, and those hand-squeezings and those softened glances, -and--happy Captain, floods of love will inundate you; she is awaiting -you!" - -Here I gnawed my moustache, I tore my gloves off and then put them -on again, I walked up and down the little drawing-room, I shifted the -clock, which stood on the mantel-shelf; I could not keep still. I had -already experienced such sensations on the morning of the assault on the -Malakoff. Suddenly the General, who was still going on with his eternal -game at ecarte with the prefect, turned round. - -"What a noise you are making, Georges!" said he. "Cards, if you please, -Prefect." - -"But, General, the fact is that I feel, I will not conceal from you, a -certain degree of emotion and--" - -"The king-one-and four trumps. My dear friend, you are not in luck," -said he to the prefect, and pulling up with an effort the white -waistcoat covering his stomach, he slipped some louis which were on the -table L931 into his fob; then bethinking himself, he added: "In fact, my -poor fellow, you think yourself bound to keep us company. It is late and -we have three leagues to cover from here to B. Every one has left, too." - -At last he departed. I can still see his thick neck, the back of which -formed a roll of fat over his ribbon of the Legion of Honor. I heard him -get into his carriage; he was still laughing at intervals. I could have -thrashed him. - -"At last!" I said to myself; "at last!" I mechanically glanced at myself -in the glass. I was crimson, and my boots, I am ashamed to say, were -horribly uncomfortable. I was furious that such a grotesque detail as -tight boots should at such a moment have power to attract my attention; -but I promised to be sincere, and I am telling you the whole truth. - -Just then the clock struck one, and my mother-in-law made her -appearance. Her eyes were red, and her ungloved hand was crumpling up a -handkerchief visibly moistened. - -At the sight of her my first movement was one of impatience. I said to -myself, "I am in for a quarter of an hour of it at least." - -Indeed, Madame de C. sank down on a couch, took my hand, and burst into -tears. Amid her sobs she ejaculated, "Georges--my dear boy--Georges--my -son." - -I felt that I could not rise to the occasion. "Come, Captain," I said -to myself, "a tear; squeeze forth a tear. You can not get out of this -becomingly without a tear, or it will be, 'My son-in-law, it is all -off.'" - -When this stupid phrase, derived from I do not know where--a Palais -Royal farce, I believe--had once got into my head, it was impossible for -me to get rid of it, and I felt bursts of wild merriment welling up to -my lips. - -"Calm yourself, Madame; calm yourself." - -"How can I, Georges? Forgive me, my dear boy." - -"Can you doubt me, Madame?" - -I felt that "Madame" was somewhat cold, but I was afraid of making -Madame de C. seem old by calling her "mother." I knew her to be somewhat -of a coquette. - -"Oh, I do not doubt your affection; go, my dear boy, go and make her -happy; yes, oh, yes! Fear nothing on my account; I am strong." - -Nothing is more unbearable than emotion when one does not share it. I -murmured "Mother!" feeling that after all she must appreciate such an -outburst; then approaching, I kissed her, and made a face in spite of -myself--such a salt and disagreeable flavor had been imparted to my -mother-in-law's countenance by the tears she had shed. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. THE HONEYMOON - -It had been decided that we should pass the first week of our honeymoon -at Madame de C.'s chateau. A little suite of apartments had been fitted -up for us, upholstered in blue chintz, delightfully cool-looking. The -term "cool-looking" may pass here for a kind of bad joke, for in reality -it was somewhat damp in this little paradise, owing to the freshly -repaired walls. - -A room had been specially reserved for me, and it was thither that, -after heartily kissing my dear mother-in-law, I flew up the stairs four -at a time. On an armchair, drawn in front of the fire, was spread out -my maroon velvet dressing-gown and close beside it were my slippers. I -could not resist, and I frantically pulled off my boots. Be that as it -may, my heart was full of love, and a thousand thoughts were whirling -through my head in frightful confusion. I made an effort, and reflected -for a moment on my position: - -"Captain," said I to myself, "the approaching moment is a solemn one. On -the manner in which you cross the threshold of married life depends your -future happiness. It is not a small matter to lay the first stone of an -edifice. A husband's first kiss"--I felt a thrill run down my back--"a -husband's first kiss is like the fundamental axiom that serves as a -basis for a whole volume. Be prudent, Captain. She is there beyond that -wall, the fair young bride, who is awaiting you; her ear on the alert, -her neck outstretched, she is listening to each of your movements. At -every creak of the boards she shivers, dear little soul." - -As I said this, I took off my coat and my cravat. "Your line of conduct -lies before you ready traced out," I added; "be impassioned with due -restraint, calm with some warmth, good, kind, tender; but at the same -time let her have a glimpse of the vivacities of an ardent affection and -the attractive aspect of a robust temperament." Suddenly I put my coat -on again. I felt ashamed to enter my wife's room in a dressing-gown and -night attire. Was it not equal to saying to her: "My dear, I am at home; -see how I make myself so"? It was making a show of rights which I -did not yet possess, so I rearranged my dress, and after the thousand -details of a careful toilette I approached the door and gave three -discreet little taps. Oh! I can assure you that I was all in a tremble, -and my heart was beating so violently that I pressed my hand to my chest -to restrain its throbs. - -She answered nothing, and after a moment of anguish I decided to knock -again. I felt tempted to say in an earnest voice, "It is I, dear; may I -come in?" But I also felt that it was necessary that this phrase should -be delivered in the most perfect fashion, and I was afraid of marring -its effect; I remained, therefore, with a smile upon my lips as if she -had been able to see me, and I twirled my moustache, which, without -affectation, I had slightly perfumed. - -I soon heard a faint cough, which seemed to answer me and to grant me -admission. Women, you see, possess that exquisite tact, that extreme -delicacy, which is wholly lacking to us. Could one say more cleverly, in -a more charming manner, "Come, I await you, my love, my spouse"? Saint -Peter would not have hit upon it. That cough was heaven opening to me. -I turned the handle, the door swept noiselessly over the soft carpet. I -was in my wife's room. - -A delightful warmth met me face to face, and I breathed a vague perfume -of violets and orris-root, or something akin, with which the air of the -room was laden. A charming disorder was apparent, the ball dress was -spread upon a lounging-chair, two candles were discreetly burning -beneath rose-colored shades. - -I drew near the bed where Louise was reposing, on the farther side -of it, with her face to the wall, and her head buried in the pillows. -Motionless and with closed eyes she appeared to be asleep, but her -heightened color betrayed her emotion. I must acknowledge that at that -moment I felt the most embarrassed of mankind. I resolved humbly to -request hospitality. That would be delicate and irreproachable. Oh! you -who have gone through these trials, search your memories and recall that -ridiculous yet delightful moment, that moment of mingled anguish and -joy, when it becomes necessary, without any preliminary rehearsal, to -play the most difficult of parts, and to avoid the ridicule which is -grinning at you from the folds of the curtains; to be at one and the -same time a diplomatist, a barrister, and a man of action, and by skill, -tact, and eloquence render the sternest of realities acceptable without -banishing the most ideal of dreams. - -I bent over the bed, and in the softest notes, the sweetest tones my -voice could compass, I murmured, "Well, darling?" - -One does what one can at such moments; I could not think of anything -better, and yet, Heaven knows, I had tried. - -No reply, and yet she was awake. I will admit that my embarrassment was -doubled. I had reckoned--I can say as much between ourselves--upon -more confidence and greater yielding. I had calculated on a moment of -effusiveness, full of modesty and alarm, it is true, but, at any rate, -I had counted upon such effusiveness, and I found myself strangely -disappointed. The silence chilled me. - -"You sleep very soundly, dear. Yet I have a great many things to say; -won't you talk a little?" - -As I spoke I--touched her shoulder with the tip of my finger, and saw -her suddenly shiver. - -"Come," said I; "must I kiss you to wake you up altogether?" - -She could not help smiling, and I saw that she was blushing. - -"Oh! do not be afraid, dear; I will only kiss the tips of your fingers -gently, like that," and seeing that she let me do so, I sat down on the -bed. - -She gave a little cry. I had sat down on her foot, which was straying -beneath the bedclothes. - -"Please let me go to sleep," she said, with a supplicating air; "I am so -tired." - -"And how about myself, my dear child? I am ready to drop. See, I am in -evening dress, and have not a pillow to rest my head on, not one, except -this one." I had her hand in mine, and I squeezed it while kissing it. -"Would you be very vexed to lend this pillow to your husband? Come, are -you going to refuse me a little bit of room? I am not troublesome, I can -assure you." - -I thought I noted a smile on her lips, and, impatient to escape from -my delicate position, in a moment I rose, and, while continuing to -converse, hastelessly and noiselessly undressed. I was burning my ships. -When my ships were burned there was absolutely nothing left for me to do -but to get into bed. - -Louise gave a little cry, then she threw herself toward the wall, and I -heard a kind of sob. - -I had one foot in bed and the other out, and remained petrified, a smile -on my lips, and supporting myself wholly on one arm. - -"What is the matter-dear; what is the matter? Forgive me if I have -offended you." - -I brought my head closer to her own, and, while inhaling the perfume of -her hair, whispered in her ear: - -"I love you, my dear child; I love you, little wife; don't you think -that I do?" - -She turned toward me her eyes, moistened with tears, and said in a voice -broken by emotion and so soft, so low, so tender, that it penetrated to -the marrow of my bones: - -"I love you, too. But let me sleep!" - -"Sleep, my loved angel; sleep fearlessly, my love. I am going away; -sleep while I watch over you," I said. - -Upon my honor I felt a sob rise to my throat, and yet the idea that my -last remark was not badly turned shot through my brain. I pulled the -coverings over her again and tucked her up like a child. I can still see -her rosy face buried in that big pillow, the curls of fair hair escaping -from under the lace of her little nightcap. With her left hand she held -the counterpane close up under her chin, and I saw on one of her fingers -the new and glittering wedding-ring I had given her that morning. She -was charming, a bird nestling in cottonwool, a rosebud fallen amid snow. -When she was settled I bent over her and kissed her on the forehead. - -"I am repaid," said I to her, laughing; "are you comfortable, Louise?" - -She did not answer, but her eyes met mine and I saw in them a smile -which seemed to thank me, but a smile so subtle that in any other -circumstances I should have seen a shadow of raillery in it. - -"Now, Captain, settle yourself in this armchair and goodnight!" I said -this to myself, and I made an effort to raise my unfortunate foot which -I had forgotten, a heroic effort, but it was impossible to accomplish -it. The leg was so benumbed that I could not move it. As well as I could -I hoisted myself upon the other leg, and, hobbling, reached my armchair -without appearing too lame. The room seemed to me twice as wide to -cross as the Champ de Mars, for hardly had I taken a step in its -chilly atmosphere--the fire had gone out, it was April, and the chateau -overlooked the Loire--when the cold reminded me of the scantiness of my -costume. What! to cross the room before that angel, who was doubtless -watching me, in the most grotesque of costumes, and with a helpless -leg into the bargain! Why had I forgotten my dressing-gown? However, I -reached the armchair, into which I sank. I seized my dress-coat which -was beside me, threw it over my shoulders, twisted my white cravat -round my neck, and, like a soldier bivouacking, I sought a comfortable -position. - -It would have been all very well without the icy cold that assailed -my legs, and I saw nothing in reach to cover me. I said to myself, -"Captain, the position is not tenable," when at length I perceived on -the couch--One sometimes is childishly ashamed, but I really dared -not, and I waited for a long minute struggling between a sense of the -ridiculous and the cold which I felt was increasing. At last, when I -heard my wife's breathing become more regular and thought that she must -be asleep, I stretched out my arm and pulled toward me her wedding-gown -which was on the couch--the silk rustled enough to wake the dead--and -with the energy which one always finds on an emergency, wrapped it round -me savagely like a railway rug. Then yielding to an involuntary fit of -sybaritism, I unhooked the bellows and tried to get the fire to burn. - -"After all," I said to myself, arranging the blackened embers and -working the little instrument with a thousand precautions, "after all, -I have behaved like a gentleman. If the General saw me at this moment he -would laugh in my face; but no matter, I have acted rightly." - -Had I not sworn to be sincere, I do not know whether I should -acknowledge to you that I suddenly felt horrible tinglings in the nasal -regions. I wished to restrain myself, but the laws of nature are those -which one can not escape. My respiration suddenly ceased, I felt a -superhuman power contract my facial muscles, my nostrils dilated, my -eyes closed, and all at once I sneezed with such violence that the -bottle of Eau des Carmes shook again. God forgive me! A little cry -came from the bed, and immediately afterward the most silvery frank and -ringing outbreak of laughter followed. Then she added in her simple, -sweet, musical tones: - -"Have you hurt yourself--, Georges?" She had said Georges after a brief -silence, and in so low a voice that I scarcely heard it. - -"I am very ridiculous, am I not, dear? and you are quite right to laugh -at me. What would you have? I am camping out and I am undergoing the -consequences." - -"You are not ridiculous, but you are catching cold," and she began to -laugh again. - -"Naughty girl!" - -"Cruel one, you ought to say, and you would not be wrong if I were -to let you fall ill." She said this with charming grace. There was a -mingling of timidity and tenderness, modesty and raillery, which I find -it impossible to express, but which stupefied me. She smiled at me, then -I saw her move nearer to the wall in order to leave room for me, and, as -I hesitated to cross the room. - -"Come, forgive me," she said. - -I approached the bed; my teeth were chattering. - -"How kind you are to me, dear," she said to me after a moment or so; -"will you wish me good-night?" and she held out her cheek to me. I -approached nearer, but as the candle had just gone out I made a mistake -as to the spot, and my lips brushed hers. She quivered, then, after a -brief silence, she murmured in a low tone, "You must forgive me; you -frightened me so just now." - -"I wanted to kiss you, dear." - -"Well, kiss me, my husband." - -Within the trembling young girl the coquetry of the woman was breaking -forth in spite of herself. - -I could not help it; she exhaled a delightful perfume which mounted to -my brain, and the contact of this dear creature whom I touched, despite -myself, swept away all my resolutions. - -My lips--I do not know how it was--met hers, and we remained thus for a -long moment; I felt against my breast the echo of the beating heart, and -her rapid breathing came full into my face. - -"You do love me a little, dear?" I whispered in her ear. - -I distinguished amid a confused sigh a little "Yes!" that resembled a -mere breath. - -"I don't frighten you any longer?" - -"No," she murmured, very softly. - -"You will be my little wife, then, Louise; you will let me teach you to -love me as I love you?" - -"I do love you," said she, but so softly and so gently that she seemed -to be dreaming. - -How many times have we not laughed over these recollections, already so -remote. - - - - -BOOK 2. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. THE BLUE NOTE-BOOK - -Toward midnight mamma made a sign to me with her eyes, and under cover -of a lively waltz we slipped out of the drawing-room. In the hall the -servants, who were passing to and fro, drew aside to let us go by them, -but I felt that their eyes were fixed upon me with the curiosity which -had pursued me since the morning. The large door giving on to the park -was open, although the night was cool, and in the shadow I could make -out groups of country folk gathered there to catch a glimpse of the -festivities through the windows. These good people were laughing and -whispering; they were silent for a moment as we advanced to ascend the -staircase, but I once more felt that I was the mark of these inquisitive -looks and the object of all these smiles. The face of mamma, who -accompanied me, was much flushed, and large tears were flowing from her -eyes. - -How was it that an event so gay for some was so sad for others? - -When I think over it now I can hardly keep my countenance. What silly -terrors at that frightful yet charming moment! Yet, after all, one -exaggerates things a great deal. - -On reaching the first floor mamma stopped, choking, took my head in her -hands, and kissed me on the forehead, and exclaimed, "Valentine!" I was -not greatly moved by this outburst, knowing that mamma, since she has -grown a little too stout, has some difficulty in getting upstairs. I -judged, therefore, that the wish to take breath for a moment without -appearing to do so had something to do with this sudden halt. - -We entered the nuptial chamber; it was as coquettish as possible, -refreshing to the eye, snug, elegant, and adorned with fine Louis XVI -furniture, upholstered in Beauvais tapestry. The bed, above all, was -a marvel of elegance, but to tell the truth I had no idea of it till -a week later. At the outside it seemed to me that I was entering an -austere-looking locality; the very air we breathed appeared to me to -have something solemn and awe-striking about it. - -"Here is your room, child," said mamma; "but first of all come and sit -here beside me, my dear girl." - -At these words we both burst into tears, and mamma then expressed -herself as follows: - -"The kiss you are giving me, Valentine, is the last kiss that I shall -have from you as a girl. Your husband--for Georges is that now--" - -At these words I shuddered slightly, and by a singular freak of my brain -pictured to myself Monsieur Georges--Georges--my husband--in a cotton -night cap and a dressing-gown. The vision flashed across my mind in the -midst of the storm. I saw him just as plainly as if he had been there. -It was dreadful. The nightcap came over his forehead, down to his -eyebrows, and he said to me, pressing my hand; "At last, Valentine; you -are mine; do you love me? oh! tell me, do you love me?" And as his head -moved as he uttered these words, the horrible tuft at the end of his -nightcap waggled as an accompaniment. - -"No," I said to myself, "it is impossible for my husband to appear in -such a fashion; let me banish this image--and yet my father wears the -hideous things, and my brother, who is quite young, has them already. -Men wear them at all ages, unless though--" It is frightful to -relate, but Georges now appeared to me with a red-and-green bandanna -handkerchief tied round his head. I would have given ten years of my -life to be two hours older, and hurriedly passed my hand across my eyes -to drive away these diabolical visions. - -However, mamma, who had been still speaking all the time, attributing -this movement to the emotion caused by her words, said, with great -sweetness: - -"Do not be alarmed, my dear Valentine; perhaps I am painting the picture -in too gloomy colors; but my experience and my love render this duty -incumbent upon me." - -I have never heard mamma express herself so fluently. I was all the more -surprised as, not having heard a word of what she had already said, this -sentence seemed suddenly sprung upon me. Not knowing what to answer, I -threw myself into the arms of mamma, who, after a minute or so, put me -away gently, saying, "You are suffocating me, dear." - -She wiped her eyes with her little cambric handkerchief, which was damp, -and said, smilingly: - -"Now that I have told you what my conscience imposed on me, I am strong. -See, dear, I think that I can smile. Your husband, my dear child, is a -man full of delicacy. Have confidence; accept all without misgiving." - -Mamma kissed me on the forehead, which finished off her sentence, and -added: - -"Now, dear one, I have fulfilled a duty I regarded as sacred. Come here -and let me take your wreath off." - -"By this time," I thought, "they have noticed that I have left the -drawing-room. They are saying, 'Where is the bride?' and smiling, -'Monsieur Georges is getting uneasy. What is he doing? what is he -thinking? where is he?'" - -"Have you tried on your nightcap, dear?" said mamma, who had recovered -herself; "it looks rather small to me, but is nicely embroidered. Oh, it -is lovely!" - -And she examined it from every point of view. - -At that moment there was a knock at the door. "It is I," said several -voices, among which I distinguished the flute-like tones of my aunt -Laura, and those of my godmother. Madame de P., who never misses a -chance of pressing her two thick lips to some one's cheeks, accompanied -them. Their eyes glittered, and all three had a sly and triumphant look, -ferreting and inquisitive, which greatly intimidated me. Would they also -set about fulfilling a sacred duty? - -"Oh, you are really too pretty, my angel!" said Madame de P., kissing -me on the forehead, after the moist fashion peculiar to her, and then -sitting down in the large Louis XVI armchair. - -My maid had not been allowed to undress me, so that all of them, taking -off their gloves, set to work to render me this service. They tangled -the laces, caught their own lace in the hooks, and laughed heartily all -the while. - -"It is the least that the oldest friend of the family,"--she loved to -speak of herself as such--"should make herself useful at such a moment," -muttered Madame de P., holding her eyeglass in one hand and working with -the other. - -I passed into a little boudoir to complete my toilette for the night, -and found on the marble of the dressing-table five or six bottles of -scent, tied up with red, white, and blue ribbons--an act of attention on -the part of my Aunt Laura. I felt the blood flying to my head; there -was an unbearable singing in my ears. Now that I can coolly weigh the -impressions I underwent, I can tell that what I felt above all was -anger. I would have liked to be in the farthest depths of the wildest -forest in America, so unseemly did I find this curious kindness which -haunted me with its attentions. I should have liked to converse a little -with myself, to fathom my own emotion somewhat, and, in short, to utter -a brief prayer before throwing myself into the torrent. - -However, through the open door, I could hear the four ladies whispering -together and stifling their outbursts of laughter; I had never seen -them so gay. I made up my mind. I crossed the room, and, shaking off -the pretty little white slippers which my mother had embroidered for me, -jumped into bed. I was not long in finding out that it was no longer -my own narrow little bed. It was immense, and I hesitated a moment, not -knowing which way to turn. I felt nevertheless a feeling of physical -comfort. The bed was warm, and I do not know what scent rose from its -silken coverlet. I felt myself sink into the mass of feathers, the -pillows, twice over too large and trimmed with embroidery, gave way as -it were beneath me, burying me in a soft and perfumed abyss. - -At length the ladies rose, and after giving a glance round the room, -doubtless to make sure that nothing was lacking, approached the bed. - -"Good-night, my dear girl," said my mother, bending over me. - -She kissed me, carried her handkerchief, now reduced to a wet dab, to -her eyes, and went out with a certain precipitation. - -"Remember that the old friend of the family kissed you on this night, my -love," said Madame de P., as she moistened my forehead. - -"Come, my little lamb, good-night and sleep well," said my aunt, with -her smile that seemed to issue from her nose. She added in a whisper: -"You love him, don't you? The slyboots! she won't answer! Well, since -you love him so much, don't tell him so, my dear. But I must leave you; -you are sleepy. Goodnight." - -And she went away, smiling. - -At length I was alone. I listened; the doors were being closed, I heard -a carriage roll along the road; the flame of the two candles placed -upon the mantelshelf quivered silently and were reflected in the -looking-glass. - -I thought about the ceremony of that morning, the dinner, the ball. I -said to myself, clenching my fists to concentrate my thoughts: "How was -Marie dressed? She was dressed in--dressed in--dressed in--" I repeated -the words aloud to impart more authority to them and oblige my mind to -reply; but do what I would, it was impossible for me to drive away the -thought that invaded my whole being. - -"He is coming. What is he doing? Where is he? Perhaps he is on the -stairs now. How shall I receive him when he comes?" - -I loved him; oh! with my whole soul, I can acknowledge it now; but I -loved him quite at the bottom of my heart. In order to think of him I -went down into the very lowest chamber of my heart, bolted the door, and -crouched down in the darkest corner. - -At last, at a certain moment, the floor creaked, a door was opened in -the passage with a thousand precautions, and I heard the tread of a -boot--a boot! - -The boot ceased to creak, and I heard quite close to me, on the other -side of the wall, which was nothing but a thin partition, an armchair -being rolled across the carpet, and then a little cough, which seemed -to me to vibrate with emotion. It was he! But for the partition I could -have touched him with my finger. A few moments later I could distinguish -the almost imperceptible sound of footsteps on the carpet; this faint -sound rang violently in my head. All at once my breathing and my heart -both stopped together; there was a tap at the door. The tapping was -discreet, full of entreaty and delicacy. I wanted to reply, "Come in," -but I had no longer any voice; and, besides, was it becoming to answer -like that, so curtly and plainly? I thought "Come in" would sound -horribly unseemly, and I said nothing. There was another tap. I should -really have preferred the door to have been broken open with a hatchet -or for him to have come down the chimney. In my agony I coughed faintly -among my sheets. That was enough; the door opened, and I divined from -the alteration in the light shed by the candles that some one at whom I -did not dare look was interposing between them and myself. - -This some one, who seemed to glide across the carpet, drew near the bed, -and I could distinguish out of the corner of my eye his shadow on the -wall. I could scarcely restrain my joy; my Captain wore neither cotton -nightcap nor bandanna handkerchief. That was indeed something. However, -in this shadow which represented him in profile, his nose had so much -importance that amid all my uneasiness a smile flitted across my lips. -Is it not strange how all these little details recur to your mind? I -did not dare turn round, but I devoured with my eyes this shadow -representing my husband; I tried to trace in it the slightest of his -gestures; I even sought the varying expressions of his physiognomy, but, -alas! in vain. - -I do not know how to express in words all that I felt at that moment; my -pen seems too clumsy to write my sensations, and, besides, did I really -see deep into my heart? - -Do men comprehend all this? Do they understand that the heart requires -gradual changes, and that if a half-light awakens, a noon-day blaze -dazzles and burns? It is not that the poor child, who is trembling in -a corner, refuses to learn; far from that, she has aptitude, good-will, -and a quick and ready intelligence; she knows she has reached the age -at which it is necessary to know how to read; she rejects neither the -science nor even the teacher. It is the method of instruction that makes -her uneasy. She is afraid lest this young professor, whose knowledge -is so extensive, should turn over the pages of the book too quickly and -neglect the A B C. - -A few hours back he was the submissive, humble lover, ready to kneel -down before her, hiding his knowledge as one hides a sin, speaking his -own language with a thousand circumspections. At any moment it might -have been thought that he was going to blush. She was a queen, he a -child; and now all at once the roles are changed; it is the submissive -subject who arrives in the college cap of a professor, hiding under his -arm an unknown and mysterious book. Is the man in the college cap about -to command, to smile, to obtrude himself and his books, to speak Latin, -to deliver a lecture? - -She does not know that this learned individual is trembling, too; that -he is greatly embarrassed over his opening lesson, that emotion has -caused him to forget his Latin, that his throat is parched and his -legs are trembling beneath him. She does not know this, and I tell you -between ourselves, it is not her self-esteem that suffers least at this -conjecture. She suffers at finding herself, after so many signatures, -contracts, and ceremonies-still a charming child, and nothing more. - -I believe that the first step in conjugal life will, according to the -circumstances accompanying it, give birth to captivating sympathies or -invincible repulsion. But to give birth to these sympathies, to strike -the spark that is to set light to this explosion of infinite gratitude -and joyful love--what art, what tact, what delicacy, and at the same -time what presence of mind are needed. - -How was it that at the first word Georges uttered my terrors vanished? -His voice was so firm and so sweet, he asked me so gayly for leave to -draw near the fire and warm his feet, and spoke to me with such ease -and animation of the incidents of the day. I said to myself, "It is -impossible for the least baseness to be hidden under all this." In -presence of so much good-humor and affability my scaffolding fell to -pieces. I ventured a look from beneath the sheets: I saw him comfortably -installed in the big armchair, and I bit my lips. I am still at a loss -to understand this little fit of ill-temper. When one is reckoning on -a fright, one is really disappointed at its delaying itself. Never had -Georges been more witty, more affectionate, more well-bred; he was still -the man of the day before. He must really have been very excited. - -"You are tired out, I am certain, darling," he said. - -The word "darling" made me start, but did not frighten me; it was the -first time he had called me so, but I really could not refuse him the -privilege of speaking thus. However it may be, I maintained my reserve, -and in the same tone as one replies, "No thanks, I don't take tea," I -answered: - -"Oh, yes! I am worn out." - -"I thought so," he added, approaching the bed; "you can not keep your -eyes open; you can not even look at me, my dear little wife." - -"I will leave you," continued he. "I will leave you; you need repose." -And he drew still more closely to me, which was not natural. Then, -stretching out his hand, which I knew was white and well cared for: -"Won't you give me a little shake of the hand, dear? I am half asleep, -too, my pretty little wife." His face wore an expression which was -alarming, though not without its charm; as he said this, I saw clearly -that he had lied to me like a demon, and that he was no more sleepy than -I was. - -However that may be, I was guilty of the fault, the carelessness that -causes disaster, of letting him take my hand, which was straying by -chance under the lace of the pillows. - -I was that evening in a special condition of nervous sensibility, for -at this contact a strange sensation ran through me from head to foot. -It was not that the Captain's hand had the softness of satin--I believe -that physical sensations, in us women, have causes directly contrary to -those which move men; for that which caused me such lively emotion was -precisely its firmness. There was something strong, manly, and powerful -about it. He squeezed my hand rather strongly. - -My rings, which I have a fancy for wearing all at once, hurt me, and--I -really should not have believed it--I liked it very much, perhaps -too much. For the first time I found an inexplicable, an almost -intoxicating, charm in this intimate contact with a being who could have -crushed me between his fingers, and that in the middle of the night too, -in silence, without any possibility of help. It was horribly delicious. - -I did not withdraw my hand, which he kissed, but lingeringly. The clock -struck two, and the last sound had long since died away when his lips -were still there, quivering with rapid little movements, which were so -many imperceptible kisses, moist, warm, burning. I felt gleams of fire -flashing around me. I wished to draw away my hand, but could not; I -remember perfectly well that I could not. His moustache pricked me, and -whiffs of the scent with which he perfumed it reached me and completed -my trouble. I felt my nostrils dilating despite myself, and, striving -but in vain to take refuge in my inmost being, I exclaimed inwardly: -"Protect me, Lord, but this time with all your might. A drop of water, -Lord; a drop of water!" I waited--no appreciable succor reached from -above. It was not till a week afterward that I understood the intentions -of Providence. - -"You told me you were sleepy," I murmured, in a trembling voice. I was -like a shipwrecked person clutching at a floating match-box; I knew -quite well that the Captain would not go away. - -"Yes, I was sleepy, pet," said Georges, approaching his face to mine; -"but now I am athirst." He put his lips to my ear and whispered softly, -"Athirst for a kiss from you, love." - -This "love" was the beginning of another life. The spouse now appeared, -the past was fleeing away, I was entering on the future. At length I had -crossed the frontier; I was in a foreign land. Oh! I acknowledge--for -what is the use of feigning?--that I craved for this love, and I felt -that it engrossed me and spread itself through me. I felt that I was -getting out of my depth, I let go the last branch that held me to the -shore, and to myself I repeated: "Yes, I love you; yes, I am willing to -follow you; yes, I am yours, love, love, love!" - -"Won't you kiss your husband; come, won't you?" - -And his mouth was so near my own that it seemed to meet my lips. - -"Yes," said I. - - ............................. - -August 7th, 185-How many times have I not read through you during the -last two years, my little blue note-book! How many things I might add as -marginal notes if you were not doomed to the flames, to light my first -fire this autumn! How could I have written all this, and how is it that -having done so I have not dared to complete my confidences! No one has -seen you, at any rate; no one has turned your pages. Go back into your -drawer, dear, with, pending the first autumn fire, a kiss from your -Valentine. - -NOTE.--Owing to what circumstances this blue note-book, doomed to the -flames, was discovered by me in an old Louis XVI chiffonnier I had just -bought does not greatly matter to you, dear reader, and would be out of -my power to explain even if it did. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. THE BLUE NOTE-BOOK AGAIN - -Only to think that I was going to throw you into the fire, poor dear! -Was I not foolish? In whom else could I confide? If I had not you, to -whom could I tell all those little things at which every one laughs, but -which make you cry! - -This evening, for instance, I dined alone, for Georges was invited out; -well, to whom else can I acknowledge that when I found myself alone, -face to face with a leg of mutton, cooked to his liking, and with the -large carving-knife which is usually beside his plate, before me, I -began to cry like a child? To whom else can I admit that I drank out of -the Bohemian wine-glass he prefers, to console me a little? - -But if I were to mention this they would laugh in my face. Father -Cyprien himself, who nevertheless has a heart running over with -kindness, would say to me: - -"Let us pass that by, my dear child; let us pass that by." - -I know him so well, Father Cyprien; while you, you always listen to me, -my poor little note-book; if a tear escapes me, you kindly absorb it and -retain its trace like a good-hearted friend. Hence I love you. - -And, since we are tete-a-tete, let us have a chat. You won't be angry -with me for writing with a pencil, dear. You see I am very comfortably -settled in my big by-by and I do not want to have any ink-stains. The -fire sparkles on the hearth, the street is silent; let us forget that -George will not return till midnight, and turn back to the past. - -I can not recall the first month of that dear past without laughing and -weeping at one and the same time. - -How foolish we were! How sweet it was! There is a method of teaching -swimming which is not the least successful, I am told. It consists in -throwing the future swimmer into the water and praying God to help him. -I am assured that after the first lesson he keeps himself afloat. - -Well, I think that we women are taught to be wives in very much the same -fashion. - -Happy or otherwise--the point is open to discussion marriage is a -hurricane--something unheard-of and alarming. - -In a single night, and without any transition, everything is transformed -and changes color; the erst while-cravatted, freshly curled, carefully -dressed gentleman makes his appearance in a dressing-gown. That which -was prohibited becomes permissible, the code is altered, and words -acquire a meaning they never had before, et cetera, et cetera. - -It is not that all this is so alarming, if taken the right way--a woman -with some courage in her heart and some flexibility in her mind supports -the shock and does not die under it; but the firmest of us are amazed -at it, and stand open-mouthed amid all these strange novelties, like a -penniless gourmand in the shop of Potel and Chabot. - -They dare not touch these delicacies surrounding them, though invited to -taste. It is not that the wish or the appetite is lacking to them, but -all these fine fruits have been offered them so lately that they have -still the somewhat acid charm of green apples or forbidden fruit. They -approach, but they hesitate to bite. - -After all, why complain? What would one have to remember if one had -entered married life like an inn, if one had not trembled a little when -knocking at the door? And it is so pleasant to recall things, that one -would sometimes like to deck the future in the garments of the past. - -It was, I recollect, two days after the all-important one. I had gone -into his room, I no longer remember why--for the pleasure of going in, -I suppose, and thereby acting as a wife. A strong desire is that which -springs up in your brain after leaving church to look like an old -married woman. You put on caps with ribbons, you never lay aside your -cashmere shawl, you talk of "my home"--two sweet words--and then you -bite your lips to keep from breaking out into a laugh; and "my husband," -and "my maid," and the first dinner you order, when you forget the soup. -All this is charming, and, however ill at ease you may feel at first in -all these new clothes, you are quite eager to put them on. - -So I had gone into the dressing-room of my husband, who, standing before -the glass, very lightly clad, was prosaically shaving. - -"Excuse me, dear," said he, laughing, and he held up his shaving-brush, -covered with white lather. "You will pardon my going on with this. Do -you want anything?" - -"I came, on the contrary," I answered, "to see whether you had need of -anything;" and, greatly embarrassed myself, for I was afraid of being -indiscreet, and I was not sure whether one ought to go into one's -husband's room like this, I added, innocently, "Your shirts have -buttons, have they not?" - -"Oh, what a good little housewife I have married! Do not bother yourself -about such trifles, my pet. I will ask your maid to look after my -buttons," said he. - -I felt confused; I was afraid of appealing too much of a schoolgirl -in his eyes. He went on working his soap into a lather with his -shaving-brush. I wanted to go away, but I was interested in such a novel -fashion by the sight of my husband, that I had not courage to do so. -His neck was bare--a thick, strong neck, but very white and changing -its shape at every movement--the muscles, you know. It would have been -horrible in a woman, that neck, and yet it did not seem ugly to me. Nor -was it admiration that thus inspired me; it was rather like gluttony. -I wanted to touch it. His hair, cut very short--according to -regulation--grew very low, and between its beginning and the ear there -was quite a smooth white place. The idea at once occurred to me that -if ever I became brave enough, it was there that I should kiss him -oftenest; it was strange, that presentiment, for it is in fact on that -little spot that I-- - -He stopped short. I fancied I understood that he was afraid of appearing -comical in my eyes, with his face smothered in lather; but he was wrong. -I felt myself all in a quiver at being beside a man--the word man is -rather distasteful to me, but I can not find another, for husband would -not express my thoughts--at being beside a man in the making of his -toilette. I should have liked him to go on without troubling himself; -I should have liked to see how he managed to shave himself without -encroaching on his moustache, how he made his parting and brushed his -hair with the two round brushes I saw on the table, what use he made -of all the little instruments set out in order on the marble-tweezers, -scissors, tiny combs, little pots and bottles with silver tops, and a -whole arsenal of bright things, that aroused quite a desire to beautify -one's self. - -I should have liked him while talking to attend to the nails of his -hands, which I was already very fond of; or, better still, to have -handed them over to me. How I should have rummaged in the little -corners, cut, filed, arranged all that. - -"Well, dear, what are you looking at me like that for?" said he, -smiling. - -I lowered my eyes at once, and felt that I was blushing. I was uneasy, -although charmed, amid these new surroundings. I did not know what to -answer, and mechanically I dipped the tip of my finger into the little -china pot in which the soap was being lathered. - -"What is the matter, darling?" said he, approaching his face to mine; -"have I offended you?" - -I don't know what strange idea darted through my mind, but I suddenly -took my hand from the pot and stuck the big ball of lather at the end of -my finger on the tip of his nose. He broke out into a hearty laugh, and -so did I; though I trembled for a moment, lest he should be angry. - -"So that's the way in which you behave to a captain in the lancers? You -shall pay for this, you wicked little darling;" and, taking the shaving -brush in his hand, he chased me round the room. I dodged round the -table, I took refuge behind the armchair, upsetting his boots with my -skirt, getting the tongs at the same time entangled in it. Passing the -sofa, I noticed his uniform laid out--he had to wait on the General that -morning--and, seizing his schapska, I made use of it as a buckler. But -laughter paralyzed me, and besides, what could a poor little woman do -against a soldier, even with a buckler? - -He ended by catching me--the struggle was a lovely one. It was all very -well for me to scream, as I threw my head backward over the arm by -which he clasped me; I none the less saw the frightful brush, like a big -snowball, at the end of a little stick, come nearer and yet nearer. - -But he was merciful; he was satisfied with daubing a little white spot -on my chin and exclaiming, "The cavalry have avenged themselves." - -Seizing the brush in turn, I said to him roguishly, "Captain, let me -lather your face," for I did so want to do that. - -In answer, he held his face toward me, and, observing that I was obliged -to stand on the tips of my toes and to support myself a little on his -shoulder, he knelt down before me and yielded his head to me. - -With the tip of my finger I made him bend his face to the right and the -left, backward and forward, and I lathered and lathered, giggling like -a schoolgirl. It amused me so to see my Captain obey me like a child; -I would have given I don't know what if he had only had his sword and -spurs on at that moment. Unfortunately, he was in his slippers. I spread -the lather over his nose and forehead; he closed his eyes and put his -two arms round me, saying: - -"Go on, my dear, go on; but see that you don't put any into my mouth." - -At that moment I experienced a very strange feeling. My laughter died -away all at once; I felt ashamed at seeing my husband at my feet and at -thus amusing myself with him as if he were a doll. - -I dropped the shaving-brush; I felt my eyes grow moist; and, suddenly, -becoming more tender, I bent toward him and kissed him on the neck, -which was the only spot left clear. - -Yet his ear was so near that, in passing it, my lips moved almost in -spite of myself, and I whispered: - -"Don't be angry, dear," then, overcome by emotion and repentance, I -added: "I love you, I do love you." - -"My own pet!" he said, rising suddenly. His voice shook. - -What delightful moments these were! Unfortunately, oh! yes, indeed, -unfortunately, he could not press his lathered face to mine! - -"Wait a little," he exclaimed, darting toward the washbasin, full of -water, "wait an instant!" - -But it seemed as if it took him a week to wash it off. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. MY WIFE GOES TO A DANCE - -Madame--Ah! it is so nice of you to come home early! (Looking at the -clock.) A quarter to six. But how cold you are! your hands are frozen; -come and sit by the fire. (She puts a log on the fire.) I have been -thinking of you all day. It is cruel to have to go out in such weather. -Have you finished your doubts? are you satisfied? - -Monsieur--Quite well satisfied, dear. (Aside.) But I have never known -my wife to be so amiable. (Aloud, taking up the bellows.) Quite well -satisfied, and I am very hungry. Has my darling been good? - -Madame--You are hungry. Good! (Calling out.) Marie, call into the -kitchen that your master wants to dine early. Let them look after -everything--and send up a lemon. - -Monsieur--A mystery? - -Madame--Yes, Monsieur, I have a little surprise for you, and I fancy -that it will delight you. - -Monsieur--Well, what is the surprise? - -Madame--Oh! it is a real surprise. How curious you look! your eyes are -glittering already. Suppose I were not to tell you anything? - -Monsieur--Then you would vex me very much. - -Madame--There, I don't want to vex you. You are going to have some -little green oysters and a partridge. Am I good? - -Monsieur--Oysters and a partridge! You are an angel. (He kisses her.) An -angel. (Aside.) What on earth is the matter with her? (Aloud.) Have you -had visitors to-day? - -Madame--I saw Ernestine this morning, but she only stayed a moment. She -has just discharged her maid. Would you believe it, that girl was seen -the night before last dressed up as a man, and in her master's clothes, -too! That was going too far. - -Monsieur--That comes of having confidential servants. And you just got a -sight of Ernestine? - -Madame--And that was quite enough, too. (With an exclamation.) How -stupid I am! I forgot. I had a visit from Madame de Lyr as well. - -Monsieur--God bless her! But does she still laugh on one side of her -mouth to hide her black tooth? - -Madame-How cruel you are! Yet, she likes you very well. Poor woman! I -was really touched by her visit. She came to remind me that we--now you -will be angry. (She kisses him and sits down beside him.) - -Monsieur--Be angry! be angry! I'm not a Turk. Come, what is it? - -Madame--Come, we shall go to dinner. You know that there are oysters and -a partridge. I won't tell you--you are already in a bad temper. Besides, -I all but told her that we are not going. - -Monsieur--(raising his hands aloft)--I thought so. She and her evening -may go to the dogs. What have I done to this woman that she should so -pester me? - -Madame--But she thinks she is affording you pleasure. She is a charming -friend. As for me, I like her because she always speaks well of you. If -you had been hidden in that cabinet during her visit, you could not -have helped blushing. (He shrugs his shoulders.) "Your husband is so -amiable," she said to me, "so cheery, so witty. Try to bring him; it is -an honor to have him." I said, "Certainly," but without meaning it, you -know. But I don't care about it at all. It is not so very amusing at -Madame de Lyr's. She always invites such a number of serious people. No -doubt they are influential people, and may prove useful, but what does -that matter to me? Come to dinner. You know that there is a bottle left -of that famous Pomard; I have kept it for your partridge. You can not -imagine what pleasure I feel in seeing you eat a partridge. You eat -it with such a gusto. You are a glutton, my dear. (She takes his -arm.) Come, I can hear your rascal of a son getting impatient in the -dining-room. - -Monsieur--(with a preoccupied air)--Hum! and when is it? - -Madame--When is what? - -Monsieur--The party, of course. - -Madame--Ah! you mean the ball--I was not thinking of it. Madame de Lyr's -ball. Why do you ask me that, since we are not going? Let us make haste, -dinner is getting cold.... This evening. - -Monsieur--(stopping short)--What! this party is a ball, and this ball is -for this evening. But, hang it! people don't invite you to a ball like -that. They always give notice some time beforehand. - -Madame--But she sent us an invitation a week ago, though I don't know -what became of the card. I forgot to show it to you. - -Monsieur--You forgot! you forgot! - -Madame--Well, it is all for the best; I know you would have been sulky -all the week after. Come to dinner. - -They sat down to table. The cloth was white, the cutlery bright, the -oysters fresh; the partridge, cooked to perfection, exhaled a delightful -odor. Madame was charming, and laughed at everything. Monsieur unbent -his brows and stretched himself on the chair. - -Monsieur--This Pomard is very good. Won't you have some, little dear? - -Madame--Yes, your little dear will. (She pushes forward her glass with a -coquettish movement.) - -Monsieur--Ah! you have put on your Louis Seize ring. It is a very pretty -ring. - -Madame--(putting her hand under her husband's nose)--Yes; but look--see, -there is a little bit coming off. - -Monsieur--(kissing his wife's hand)--Where is the little bit? - -Madame--(smiling)--You jest at everything. I am speaking seriously. -There--look--it is plain enough! (They draw near once another and bend -their heads together to see it.) Don't you see it? (She points out a -spot on the ring with a rosy and slender finger.) There! do you see -now--there? - -Monsieur--That little pearl which--What on earth have you been putting -on your hair, my dear? It smells very nice--You must send it to the -jeweller. The scent is exquisite. Curls don't become you badly. - -Madame--Do you think so? (She adjusts her coiffure with her white hand.) -I thought you would like that scent; now, if I were in your place I -should-- - -Monsieur--What would you do in my place, dear? - -Madame--I should--kiss my wife. - -Monsieur--(kissing her)--Well, I must say you have very bright ideas -sometimes. Give me a little bit more partridge, please. (With his mouth -full.) How pretty these poor little creatures look when running among -the corn. You know the cry they give when the sun sets?--A little -gravy.--There are moments when the poetic side of country life appeals -to one. And to think that there are barbarians who eat them with -cabbage. But (filling his glass) have you a gown ready? - -Madame--(with innocent astonishment.)--What for, dear? - -Monsieur--Why, for Madame de Lyr's-- - -Madame--For the ball?--What a memory you have--There you are still -thinking of it--No, I have not--ah! yes, I have my tarletan, you know; -but then a woman needs so little to make up a ball-room toilette. - -Monsieur--And the hairdresser, has he been sent for? - -Madame--No, he has not been sent for; but I am not anxious to go to this -ball. We will settle down by the fireside, read a little, and go to bed -early. You remind me, however, that, on leaving, Madame de Lyr did say, -"Your hairdresser is the same as mine, I will send him word." How stupid -I am; I remember now that I did not answer her. But it is not far, I can -send Marie to tell him not to come. - -Monsieur--Since this blessed hairdresser has been told, let him come and -we will go and--amuse ourselves a little at Madame de Lyr's. But on one -condition only; that I find all my dress things laid out in readiness on -my bed with my gloves, you know, and that you tie my necktie. - -Madame--A bargain. (She kisses him.) You are a jewel of a husband. I am -delighted, my poor dear, because I see you are imposing a sacrifice upon -yourself in order to please me; since, as to the ball itself, I am quite -indifferent about it. I did not care to go; really now I don't care to -go. - -Monsieur--Hum. Well, I will go and smoke a cigar so as not to be in your -way, and at ten o'clock I will be back here. Your preparations will be -over and in five minutes I shall be dressed. Adieu. - -Madame--Au revoir. - -Monsieur, after reaching the street, lit his cigar and buttoned up his -great-coat. Two hours to kill. It seems a trifle when one is busy, but -when one has nothing to do it is quite another thing. The pavement is -slippery, rain is beginning to fall--fortunately the Palais Royal is not -far off. At the end of his fourteenth tour round the arcades, Monsieur -looks at his watch. Five minutes to ten, he will be late. He rushes -home. - -In the courtyard the carriage is standing waiting. - -In the bedroom two unshaded lamps shed floods of light. Mountains of -muslin and ribbons are piled on the bed and the furniture. Dresses, -skirts, petticoats, and underpetticoats, lace, scarfs, flowers, jewels, -are mingled in a charming chaos. On the table there are pots of pomade, -sticks of cosmetic, hairpins, combs and brushes, all carefully set out. -Two artificial plaits stretch themselves languishingly upon a dark mass -not unlike a large handful of horsehair. A golden hair net, combs of -pale tortoise-shell and bright coral, clusters of roses, sprays of white -lilac, bouquets of pale violets, await the choice of the artist or the -caprice of the beauty. And yet, must I say it? amidst this luxury of -wealth Madame's hair is undressed, Madame is uneasy, Madame is furious. - -Monsieur--(looking at his watch)--Well, my dear, is your hair dressed? - -Madame--(impatiently)--He asks me whether my hair is dressed? Don't you -see that I have been waiting for the hairdresser for an hour and a half? -Can't you see that I am furious, for he won't come, the horrid wretch? - -Monsieur--The monster! - -Madame--Yes, the monster; and I would advise you not to joke about it. - -There is a ring. The door opens and the lady's-maid exclaims, "It is he, -Madame!" - -Madame--It is he! - -Monsieur--It is he! - -The artist enters hurriedly and bows while turning his sleeves up. - -Madame--My dear Silvani, this is unbearable. - -Silvani--Very sorry, very, but could not come any sooner. I have been -dressing hair since three o'clock in the afternoon. I have just left the -Duchesse de W., who is going to the Ministry this evening. She sent me -home in her brougham. Lisette, give me your mistress's combs, and put -the curling-tongs in the fire. - -Madame--But, my dear Silvani, my maid's name is not Lisette. - -Silvani--You will understand, Madame, that if I had to remember the -names of all the lady's-maids who help me, I should need six clerks -instead of four. Lisette is a pretty name which suits all these young -ladies very well. Lisette, show me your mistress's dress. Good. Is the -ball an official one? - -Madame--But dress my hair, Silvani. - -Silvani--It is impossible for me to dress your hair, Madame, unless I -know the circle in which the coiffure will be worn. (To the husband, -seated in the corner.) May I beg you, Monsieur, to take another place? I -wish to be able to step back, the better to judge the effect. - -Monsieur--Certainly, Monsieur Silvani, only too happy to be agreeable to -you. (He sits down on a chair.) - -Madame--(hastily)--Not there, my dear, you will rumple my skirt. (The -husband gets up and looks for another seat.) Take care behind you, you -are stepping on my bustle. - -Monsieur--(turning round angrily)--Her bustle! her bustle! - -Madame--Now you go upsetting my pins. - -Silvani--May I beg a moment of immobility, Madame? - -Monsieur--Come, calm yourself, I will go into the drawing-room; is there -a fire there? - -Madame--(inattentively)--But, my dear, how can you expect a fire to be -in the drawing-room? - -Monsieur--I will go to my study, then. - -Madame--There is none there, either. What do you want a fire in your -study for? What a singular idea! High up, you know, Silvani, and a dash -of disorder, it is all the rage. - -Silvani--Would you allow a touch of brown under the eyes? That would -enable me to idealize the coiffure. - -Monsieur--(impatiently)--Marie, give me my top-coat and my cap. I will -walk up and down in the anteroom. (Aside.) Madame de Lyr shall pay for -this. - -Silvani--(crimping)--I leave your ear uncovered, Madame; it would be -a sin to veil it. It is like that of the Princesse de K., whose hair -I dressed yesterday. Lisette, get the powder ready. Ears like yours, -Madame, are not numerous. - -Madame--You were saying-- - -Silvani--Would your ear, Madame, be so modest as not to listen? - -Madame's hair is at length dressed. Silvani sheds a light cloud of -scented powder over his work, on which he casts a lingering look of -satisfaction, then bows and retires. - -In passing through the anteroom, he runs against Monsieur, who is -walking up and down. - -Silvani--A thousand pardons, I have the honor to wish you good night. - -Monsieur--(from the depths of his turned-up collar) Good-night. - -A quarter of an hour later the sound of a carriage is heard. Madame is -ready, her coiffure suits her, she smiles at herself in the glass as she -slips the glove-stretchers into the twelve-button gloves. - -Monsieur has made a failure of his necktie and broken off three buttons. -Traces of decided ill-humor are stamped on his features. - -Monsieur--Come, let us go down, the carriage is waiting; it is a quarter -past eleven. (Aside.) Another sleepless night. Sharp, coachman; Rue de -la Pepiniere, number 224. - -They reach the street in question. The Rue de la Pepiniere is in a -tumult. Policemen are hurriedly making way through the crowd. In the -distance, confused cries and a rapidly approaching, rumbling sound are -heard. Monsieur thrusts his head out of the window. - -Monsieur--What is it, Jean? - -Coachman--A fire, Monsieur; here come the firemen. - -Monsieur--Go on all the same to number 224. - -Coachman--We are there, Monsieur; the fire is at number 224. - -Doorkeeper of the House--(quitting a group of people and approaching the -carriage)--You are, I presume, Monsieur, one of the guests of Madame -de Lyr? She is terror-stricken; the fire is in her rooms. She can not -receive any one. - -Madame--(excitedly)--It is scandalous. - -Monsieur--(humming)--Heart-breaking, heartbreaking! (To the coachman.) -Home again, quickly; I am all but asleep. (He stretches himself out -and turns up his collar.) ( Aside.) After all, I am the better for a -well-cooked partridge. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. A FALSE ALARM - -Every time I visit Paris, which, unhappily, is too often, it rains in -torrents. It makes no difference whether I change the time of starting -from that which I had fixed upon at first, stop on the way, travel -at night, resort, in short, to a thousand devices to deceive the -barometer-at ten leagues from Paris the clouds begin to pile up and I -get out of the train amidst a general deluge. - -On the occasion of my last visit I found myself as usual in the -street, followed by a street porter carrying my luggage and addressing -despairing signals to all the cabs trotting quickly past amid the -driving rain. After ten minutes of futile efforts a driver, more -sensible than the others, and hidden in his triple cape, checks his -horses. With a single bound I am beside the cab, and opening, the door -with a kind of frenzy, jump in. - -Unfortunately, while I am accomplishing all this on one side, a -gentleman, similarly circumstanced, opens the other door and also jumps -in. It is easy to understand that there ensues a collision. - -"Devil take you!" said my rival, apparently inclined to push still -farther forward. - -I was about to answer him, and pretty sharply, too, for I hail from the -south of France and am rather hotheaded, when our eyes met. We looked -one another in the face like two lions over a single sheep, and suddenly -we both burst out laughing. This angry gentleman was Oscar V., that dear -good fellow Oscar, whom I had not seen for ten years, and who is a very -old friend of mine, a charming fellow whom I used to play with as a boy. - -We embraced, and the driver, who was looking at us through the window, -shrugged his shoulders, unable to understand it all. The two porters, -dripping with water, stood, one at each door, with a trunk on his -shoulder. We had the luggage put on the cab and drove off to the Hotel -du Louvre, where Oscar insisted on dropping me. - -"But you are travelling, too, then?" said I to my friend, after the -first moments of expansion. "Don't you live in Paris?" - -"I live in it as little as possible and have just come up from Les -Roches, an old-fashioned little place I inherited from my father, at -which I pass a great deal of the year. Oh! it is not a chateau; it is -rustic, countrified, but I like it, and would not change anything about -it. The country around is fresh and green, a clear little river flows -past about forty yards from the house, amid the trees; there is a mill -in the background, a spreading valley, a steeple and its weather-cock on -the horizon, flowers under the windows, and happiness in the house. Can -I grumble? My wife makes exquisite pastry, which is very agreeable to me -and helps to whiten her hands. By the way, I did not tell you that I am -married. My dear fellow, I came across an angel, and I rightly thought -that if I let her slip I should not find her equal. I did wisely. But I -want to introduce you to my wife and to show you my little place. When -will you come and see me? It is three hours from Paris--time to smoke a -couple of cigars. It is settled, then--I am going back to-morrow morning -and I will have a room ready for you. Give me your card and I will write -down my address on it." - -All this was said so cordially that I could not resist my friend's -invitation, and promised to visit him. - -Three or four days later, Paris being empty and the recollection of my -old companion haunting me, I felt a strong desire to take a peep at his -conjugal felicity and to see with my own eyes this stream, this mill, -this steeple, beside all which he was so happy. - -I reached Les Roches at about six in the evening and was charmed at the -very first glance. Oscar's residence was a little Louis Quinze chateau -buried in the trees; irregularly built, but charmingly picturesque. It -had been left unaltered for a century at least, and everything, from -the blackened mansard roofs with their rococo weather-cocks, to the bay -windows with their tiny squares of glass and the fantastic escutcheon -over the door, was in keeping. Over the thick tiles of the somewhat -sunken roof, the rough-barked old chestnuts lazily stretched their -branches. Creepers and climbing roses wantoned over the front, framing -the windows, peeping into the garrets, and clinging to the waterspouts, -laden with large bunches of flowers which swayed gently in the air. Amid -all these pointed roofs and this profusion of verdure and trees the blue -sky could only be caught a glimpse of here and there. - -The first person I saw was Oscar, clad in white from head to foot, and -wearing a straw hat. He was seated on an enormous block of stone which -seemed part and parcel of the house, and appeared very much interested -in a fine melon which his gardener had just brought to him. No sooner -had he caught sight of me than he darted forward and grasped me by the -hand with such an expression of good-humor and affection that I said to -myself, "Yes, certainly he was not deceiving me, he is happy." I found -him just as I had known him in his youth, lively, rather wild, but kind -and obliging. - -"Pierre," said he to the gardener, "take this gentleman's portmanteau to -the lower room," and, as the gardener bestirred himself slowly and with -an effort, Oscar seized the portmanteau and swung it, with a jerk, on to -the shoulders of the poor fellow, whose legs bent under the weight. - -"Lazybones," said Oscar, laughing heartily. "Ah! now I must introduce -you to my little queen. My wife, where is my wife?" - -He ran to the bell and pulled it twice. At once a fat cook with a red -face and tucked-up sleeves, and behind her a man-servant wiping a plate, -appeared at the ground-floor windows. Had they been chosen on purpose? -I do not know, but their faces and bearing harmonized so thoroughly with -the picture that I could not help smiling. - -"Where is your mistress?" asked Oscar, and as they did not answer -quickly enough he exclaimed, "Marie, Marie, here is my friend George." - -A young girl, fair as a lily, appeared at a narrow, little window, the -one most garlanded by, flowers, on the first floor. She was clad in a -white dressing-gown of some particular shape; I could not at first make -out. With one hand she gathered its folds about her, and with the other -restrained her flowing hair. Hardly had she seen me when she blushed, -somewhat ashamed, no doubt, at having been surprised in the midst of -her toilet, and, giving a most embarrassed yet charming bow; hurriedly -disappeared. This vision completed the charm; it seemed to me that I had -suddenly been transported into fairy-land. I had fancied when strapping -my portmanteau that I should find my friend Oscar installed in one of -those pretty, little, smart-looking houses, with green shutters and gilt -lightning-conductor, dear to the countrified Parisian, and here I found -myself amid an ideal blending of time-worn stones hidden in flowers, -ancient gables, and fanciful ironwork reddened by rust. I was right -in the midst of one of Morin's sketches, and, charmed and stupefied, I -stood for some moments with my eyes fixed on the narrow window at which -the fair girl had disappeared. - -"I call her my little queen," said Oscar, taking my arm. "It is my wife. -Come this way, we shall meet my cousin who is fishing, and two other -friends who are strolling about in this direction, good fellows, only -they do not understand the country as I do--they have on silk stockings -and pumps, but it does not matter, does it? Would you like a pair of -slippers or a straw hat? - -"I hope you have brought some linen jackets. I won't offer you a glass -of Madeira--we shall dine at once. Ah! my dear fellow, you have turned -up at the right moment; we are going to taste the first melon of the -year this evening." - -"Unfortunately, I never eat melons, though I like to see others do so." - -"Well, then, I will offer you consolation by seeking out a bottle of my -old Pomard for you. Between ourselves, I don't give it to every one; -it is a capital wine which my poor father recommended to me on his -deathbed; poor father, his eyes were closed, and his head stretched back -on the pillow. I was sitting beside his bed, my hand in his, when I felt -it feebly pressed. His eyes half opened, and I saw him smile. Then -he said in a weak, slow, and the quavering voice of an old man who -is dying: 'The Pomard at the farther end--on the left--you know, my -boy--only for friends.' He pressed my hand again, and, as if exhausted, -closed his eyes, though I could see by the imperceptible motion of his -lips that he was still smiling inwardly. Come with me to the cellar," -continued Oscar, after a brief silence, "at the farther end to the left, -you shall hold the lantern for me." - -When we came up from the cellar, the bell was ringing furiously, and -flocks of startled birds were flying out of the chestnut-trees. It was -for dinner. All the guests were in the garden. Oscar introduced me in -his off-hand way, and I offered my arm to the mistress of the house to -conduct her to the dining-room. - -On examining my friend's wife, I saw that my first impression had not -been erroneous--she was literally a little angel, and a little angel in -the shape of a woman, which is all the better. She was delicate, slender -as a young girl; her voice was as thrilling and harmonious as the -chaffinch, with an indefinable accent that smacked of no part of the -country in particular, but lent a charm to her slightest word. She had, -moreover, a way of speaking of her own, a childish and coquettish way -of modulating the ends of her sentences and turning her eyes toward her -husband, as if to seek for his approbation. She blushed every moment, -but at the same time her smile was so bewitching and her teeth so white -that she seemed to be laughing at herself. A charming little woman! Add -to this a strange yet tasteful toilette, rather daring, perhaps, but -suiting this little queen, so singular in herself. Her beautiful fair -hair, twisted up apparently at hazard, was fixed rather high up on the -head by a steel comb worn somewhat on one side; and her white muslin -dress trimmed with wide, flat ruches, cut square at the neck, short in -the skirt, and looped up all round, had a delicious eighteenth-century -appearance. The angel was certainly a trifle coquettish, but in her own -way, and yet her way was exquisite. - -Hardly were we seated at table when Oscar threw toward his little queen -a rapid glance, but one so full of happiness and-why should I not -say it?--love that I experienced a kind of shiver, a thrill of envy, -astonishment, and admiration, perhaps. He took from the basket of -flowers on the table a red rose, scarcely opened, and, pushing it toward -her, said with a smile: - -"For your hair, Madame." - -The fair girl blushed deeply, took the flower, and, without hesitation, -quickly and dexterously stuck it in her hair, high up on the left, -just in the right spot, and, delightedly turning round to each of us, -repeated several times, amid bursts of laughter, "Is it right like -that?" - -Then she wafted a tiny kiss with the tips of her fingers to her husband, -as a child of twelve would have done, and gayly plunged her spoon into -the soup, turning up her little finger as she did so. - -The other guests had nothing very remarkable about them; they laughed -very good-naturedly at these childish ways, but seemed somewhat out of -place amid all this charming freedom from restraint. The cousin, above -all, the angler, with his white waistcoat, his blue tie, his full beard, -and his almond eyes, especially displeased me. He rolled his r's like -an actor at a country theatre. He broke his bread into little bits and -nibbled them as he talked. I divined that the pleasure of showing off a -large ring he wore had something to do with this fancy for playing with -his bread. Once or twice I caught a glance of melancholy turned toward -the mistress of the house, but at first I did not take much notice of -it, my attention being attracted by the brilliant gayety of Oscar. - -It seemed to me, however, at the end of a minute or so, that this young -man was striving in a thousand ways to engage the attention of the -little queen. - -The latter, however, answered him in the most natural way in the world, -neither betraying constraint nor embarrassment. I was mistaken, no -doubt. Have you ever noticed, when you are suddenly brought into -the midst of a circle where you are unacquainted, how certain little -details, matters of indifference to every one else, assume importance in -your eyes? The first impression is based upon a number of trifles that -catch your attention at the outset. A stain in the ceiling, a nail in -the wall, a feature of your neighbor's countenance impresses itself upon -your mind, installs itself there, assumes importance, and, in spite -of yourself, all the other observations subsequently made by you group -around this spot, this nail, this grimace. Think over it, dear reader, -and you will see that every opinion you may have as to a fact, a person, -or an object has been sensibly influenced by the recollection of the -little trifle that caught your eye at the first glance. What young -girl victim of first impressions has not refused one or two husbands on -account of a waistcoat too loose, a cravat badly tied, an inopportune -sneeze, a foolish smile, or a boot too pointed at the toe? - -One does not like admitting to one's self that such trifles can serve as -a base to the opinion one has of any one, and one must seek attentively -in order to discover within one's mind these unacknowledged germs. - -I recollect quite well that the first time I had the honor of calling -on Madame de M., I noticed that one of her teeth, the first molar on -the right, was quite black. I only caught a glimpse of the little black -monster, such was the care taken to hide it, yet I could not get -this discovery out of my head. I soon noticed that Madame de M. made -frightful grimaces to hide her tooth, and that she took only -the smallest possible mouthfuls at table to spare the nervous -susceptibilities of the little monster. - -I arrived at the pitch of accounting for all the mental and physical -peculiarities of Madame de M. by the presence of this slight blemish, -and despite myself this black tooth personified the Countess so well -that even now, although it has been replaced by another magnificent one, -twice as big and as white as the bottom of a plate, even now, I say, -Madame de M. can not open her mouth without my looking naturally at it. - -But to return to our subject. Amid all this conjugal happiness, so -delightfully surrounded, face to face with dear old Oscar, so good, so -confiding, so much in love with this little cherub in a Louis XV dress, -who carried grace and naivete to so strange a pitch, I had been struck -by the too well combed and foppish head of the cousin in the white -waistcoat. This head had attracted my attention like the stain on the -ceiling of which I spoke just now, like the Countess's black tooth, and -despite myself I did not take my eyes off the angler as he passed the -silver blade of his knife through a slice of that indigestible fruit -which I like to see on the plates of others, but can not tolerate on my -own. - -After dinner, which lasted a very long time, we went into the garden, -where coffee had been served, and stretched ourselves out beatifically, -cigar in mouth. All was calm and silent about us, the insects had ceased -their music, and in an opaline sky little violet clouds were sleeping. - -Oscar, with a happy air, pointed out to me the famous mill, the quiet -valley, and farther on his loved stream, in which the sun, before -setting, was reflecting itself amid the reeds. Meanwhile the little -queen on her high heels flitted round the cups like a child playing -at party-giving, and with a thousand charming touches poured out the -boiling coffee, the odor of which blended deliciously with the perfume -of the flowers, the hay, and the woods. - -When she had finished she sat down beside her husband, so close that her -skirt half hid my friend, and unceremoniously taking the cigar from his -lips, held it at a distance, with a little pout, that meant, "Oh, the -horrid thing!" and knocked off with her little finger the ash which -fell on the gravel. Then she broke into a laugh, and put the cigar back -between the lips of her husband held out to her. - -It was charming. Oscar was no doubt accustomed to this, for he did not -seem astonished, but placed his hand on his wife's shoulder, as one -would upon a child's, and, kissing her on the forehead, said, "Thanks, -my dear." - -"Yes, but you are only making fun of me," said the young wife, in a -whisper, leaning her head against her husband's arm. - -I could not help smiling, there was so much coaxing childishness and -grace in this little whispered sentence. I do not know why I turned -toward the cousin who had remained a little apart, smoking in silence. -He seemed to me rather pale; he took three or four sudden puffs, rose -suddenly under the evident influence of some moral discomfort, and -walked away beneath the trees. - -"What is the matter with cousin?" said Oscar, with some interest. "What -ails him?" - -"I don't know," answered the little queen, in the most natural manner in -the world, "some idea about fishing, no doubt." - -Night began to fall; we had remained as I have said a long time at -table. It was about nine o'clock. The cousin returned and took the seat -he had occupied before, but from this moment it seemed to me that a -strange constraint crept in among us, a singular coolness showed itself. -The talk, so lively at first, slackened gradually and, despite all my -efforts to impart a little life to it, dragged wretchedly. I myself did -not feel very bright; I was haunted by the most absurd notions in the -world; I thought I had detected in the sudden departure of the cousin, -in his pallor, in his embarrassed movements, the expression of some -strong feeling which he had been powerless to hide. But how was it that -that adorable little woman with such a keen intelligent look did not -understand all this, since I understood it myself? Had not Oscar, -however confiding he might be, noted that the departure of the cousin -exactly coincided with the kiss he had given his wife? Were these two -blind, or did they pretend not to see, or was I myself the victim of -an illusion? However, conversation had died away; the mistress of the -house, singular symptom, was silent and serious, and Oscar wriggled in -his chair, like a man who is not altogether at ease. What was passing in -their minds? - -Soon we heard the clock in the drawing-room strike ten, and Oscar, -suddenly rising, said: "My dear fellow, in the country it is Liberty -Hall, you know; so I will ask your permission to go in--I am rather -tired this evening. George," he added to me, "they will show you your -room; it is on the ground floor; I hope that you will be comfortable -there." - -Everybody got up silently, and, after bidding one another good-night in -a somewhat constrained manner, sought their respective rooms. I thought, -I must acknowledge, that they went to bed rather too early at my -friend's. I had no wish to sleep; I therefore examined my room, which -was charming. It was completely hung with an old figured tapestry framed -in gray wainscot. The bed, draped in dimity curtains, was turned down -and exhaled that odor of freshly washed linen which invites one to -stretch one's self in it. On the table, a little gem dating from the -beginning of the reign of Louis XVI, were four or five books, evidently -chosen by Oscar and placed there for me. These little attentions touch -one, and naturally my thoughts recurred to the dear fellow, to the -strange incident of the evening, to the vexations and tortures hidden, -perhaps, by this apparent happiness. I was ridiculous that night--I -already pitied him, my poor friend. - -I felt quite touched, and, full of melancholy, went and leaned against -the sill of the open window. The moon had just risen, the sky was -beautifully clear, whiffs of delicious perfumes assailed my nostrils. I -saw in the shadow of the trees glowworms sparkling on the grass, and, in -the masses of verdure lit up mysteriously by the moon, I traced strange -shapes of fantastic monsters. There was, above all, a little pointed -roof surmounted by a weathercock, buried in the trees at about fifty -paces from my window, which greatly interested me. I could not in the -obscurity make out either door or windows belonging to this singular -tower. Was it an old pigeon-house, a tomb, a deserted summer-house? I -could not tell, but its little pointed roof, with a round dormer window, -was extremely graceful. Was it chance or an artist lull of taste that -had covered this tower with creepers and flowers, and surrounded it with -foliage in such capricious fashion that it seemed to be hiding itself -in order to catch all glances? I was gazing at all this when I heard -a faint noise in the shrubbery. I looked in that direction and I -saw--really, it was an anxious moment--I saw a phantom clad in a white -robe and walking with mysterious and agitated rapidity. At a turning -of the path the moon shone on this phantom. Doubt was impossible; I had -before my eyes my friend's wife. Her gait no longer had that coquettish -ease which I had noticed, but clearly indicated the agitation due to -some strong emotion. - -I strove to banish the horrible suspicion which suddenly forced itself -into my mind. "No," I said to myself, "so much innocence and beauty can -not be capable of deception; no doubt she has forgotten her fan or her -embroidery, on one of the benches there." But instead of making her way -toward the benches I noticed on the right, the young wife turned to -the left, and soon disappeared in the shadow of the grove in which was -hidden the mysterious turret. - -My heart ached. "Where is she going, the hapless woman?" I exclaimed -to myself. "At any rate, I will not let her imagine any one is watching -her." And I hurriedly blew out my candle. I wanted to close my window, -go to bed, and see nothing more, but an invincible curiosity took me -back to the window. I had only been there a few minutes when I plainly -distinguished halting and timid footsteps on the gravel. I could see no -one at first, but there was no doubt that the footsteps were those of a -man. I soon had a proof that I was not mistaken; the elongated outline -of the cousin showed up clearly against the dark mass of shrubbery. I -should have liked to have stopped him, the wretch, for his intention was -evident; he was making his way toward the thicket in which the little -queen had disappeared. I should have liked to shout to him, "You are -a villain; you shall go no farther." But had I really any right to act -thus? I was silent, but I coughed, however, loud enough to be heard by -him. - -He suddenly paused in his uneasy walk, looked round on all sides with -visible anxiety, then, seized by I know not what impulse, darted toward -the pavilion. I was overwhelmed. What ought I to do? Warn my friend, my -childhood's companion? Yes, no doubt, but I felt ashamed to pour despair -into the mind of this good fellow and to cause a horrible exposure. "If -he can be kept in ignorance," I said to myself, "and then perhaps I am -wrong--who knows? Perhaps this rendezvous is due to the most natural -motive possible." - -I was seeking to deceive myself, to veil the evidence of my own eyes, -when suddenly one of the house doors opened noisily, and Oscar--Oscar -himself, in all the disorder of night attire, his hair rumpled, and his -dressing-gown floating loosely, passed before my window. He ran rather -than walked; but the anguish of his heart was too plainly revealed in -the strangeness of his movements. He knew all. I felt that a mishap was -inevitable. "Behold the outcome of all his happiness, behold the bitter -poison enclosed in so fair a vessel!" All these thoughts shot through -my mind like arrows. It was necessary above all to delay the explosion, -were it only for a moment, a second, and, beside myself, without giving -myself time to think of what I was going to say to him, I cried in a -sharp imperative tone: - -"Oscar, come here; I want to speak to you." - -He stopped as if petrified. He was ghastly pale, and, with an infernal -smile, replied, "I have no time-later on." - -"Oscar, you must, I beg of you--you are mistaken." - -At these words he broke into a fearful laugh. - -"Mistaken--mistaken!" - -And he ran toward the pavilion. - -Seizing the skirt of his dressing-gown, I held him tightly, exclaiming: - -"Don't go, my dear fellow, don't go; I beg of you on my knees not to -go." - -By way of reply he gave me a hard blow on the arm with his fist, -exclaiming: - -"What the devil is the matter with you?" - -"I tell you that you can not go there, Oscar," I said, in a voice which -admitted of no contradiction. - -"Then why did not you tell me at once." - -And feverishly snatching his dressing-gown from my grasp, he began to -walk frantically up and down. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. I SUP WITH MY WIFE - -That evening, which chanced to be Christmas Eve, it was infernally cold. -The snow was falling in heavy flakes, and, driven by the wind, beat -furiously against the window panes. The distant chiming of the -bells could just be heard through this heavy and woolly atmosphere. -Foot-passengers, wrapped in their cloaks, slipped rapidly along, keeping -close to the house and bending their heads to the wintry blast. - -Enveloped in my dressing-gown, and tapping with my fingers on the -window-panes, I was smiling at the half-frozen passers-by, the north -wind, and the snow, with the contented look of a man who is in a warm -room and has on his feet comfortable flannel-lined slippers, the soles -of which are buried in a thick carpet. At the fireside my wife was -cutting out something and smiling at me from time to time; a new book -awaited me on the mantelpiece, and the log on the hearth kept shooting -out with a hissing sound those little blue flames which invite one to -poke it. - -"There is nothing that looks more dismal than a man tramping through the -snow, is there?" said I to my wife. - -"Hush," said she, lowering the scissors which she held in her hand; and, -after smoothing her chin with her fingers, slender, rosy, and plump at -their tips, she went on examining the pieces of stuff she had cut out. - -"I say that it is ridiculous to go out in the cold when it is so easy to -remain at home at one's own fireside." - -"Hush." - -"But what are you doing that is so important?" - -"I--I am cutting out a pair of braces for you," and she set to work -again. But, as in cutting out she kept her head bent, I noticed, on -passing behind her, her soft, white neck, which she had left bare that -evening by dressing her hair higher than usual. A number of little downy -hairs were curling there. This kind of down made me think of those ripe -peaches one bites so greedily. I drew near, the better to see, and I -kissed the back of my wife's neck. - -"Monsieur!" said Louise, suddenly turning round. - -"Madame," I replied, and we both burst out laughing. - -"Christmas Eve," said I. - -"Do you wish to excuse yourself and to go out?" - -"Do you mean to complain?" - -"Yes, I complain that you are not sufficiently impressed by the fact of -its being Christmas Eve. The ding-ding-dong of the bells of Notre Dame -fails to move you; and just now when the magic-lantern passed beneath -the window, I looked at you while pretending to work, and you were quite -calm." - -"I remain calm when the magic-lantern is going by! Ah! my dear, you are -very severe on me, and really--" - -"Yes, yes, jest about it, but it was none the less true that the -recollections of your childhood have failed." - -"Now, my dear, do you want me to leave my boots out on the hearth this -evening on going to bed? Do you want me to call in the magic-lantern -man, and to look out a big sheet and a candle end for him, as my poor -mother used to do? I can still see her as she used to entrust her white -sheet to him. 'Don't make a hole in it, at least,' she would say. How -we used to clap our hands in the mysterious darkness! I can recall all -those joys, my dear, but you know so many other things have happened -since then. Other pleasures have effaced those." - -"Yes, I can understand, your bachelor pleasures; and, there, I am -sure that this Christmas Eve is the first you have passed by your own -fireside, in your dressing-gown, without supper; for you used to sup on -Christmas Eve." - -"To sup, to sup." - -"Yes, you supped; I will wager you did." - -"I have supped two or three times, perhaps, with friends, you know; two -sous' worth of roasted chestnuts and--" - -"A glass of sugar and water." - -"Oh, pretty nearly so. It was all very simple; as far as I can -recollect. We chatted a little and went to bed." - -"And he says that without a smile. You have never breathed a word to me -of all these simple pleasures." - -"But, my dear, all that I am telling you is strictly true. I remember -that once, however, it was rather lively. It was at Ernest's, and we had -some music. Will you push that log toward me? But, never mind; it will -soon be midnight, and that is the hour when reasonable people--" - -Louise, rising and throwing her arms around my neck, interrupted me -with: "Well, I don't want to be reasonable, I want to wipe out all your -memories of chestnuts and glasses of sugar and water." - -Then pushing me into my dressing-room she locked the door. - -"But, my dear, what is the matter with you?" said I through the keyhole. - -"I want ten minutes, no more. Your newspaper is on the mantelpiece; you -have not read it this evening. There are some matches in the corner." - -I heard a clatter of crockery, a rustling of silk my wife mad? - -Louise soon came and opened the door. - -"Don't scold me for having shut you up," she said, kissing me. "Look how -I have beautified myself? Do you recognize the coiffure you are so -fond of, the chignon high, and the neck bare? Only as my poor neck is -excessively timid, it would have never consented to show itself thus if -I had not encouraged it a little by wearing my dress low. And then one -must put on full uniform to sup with the authorities." - -"To sup?" - -"Certainly, to sup with you; don't you see my illuminations and this -table covered with flowers and a heap of good things? I had got it all -ready in the alcove; but you understand that to roll the table up to the -fire and make a little toilette, I wanted to be alone. Come, Monsieur, -take your place at table. I am as hungry as a hunter. May I offer you a -wing of cold chicken?" - -"Your idea is charming, but, dear, really I am ashamed; I am in my -dressing-gown." - -"Take off your dressing-gown if it incommodes you, Monsieur, but don't -leave this chicken wing on my hands. I want to serve you myself." And, -rising, she turned her sleeves up to the elbow, and placed her table -napkin on her arm. - -"It is thus that the waiters at the restaurant do it, is it not?" - -"Exactly; but, waiter, allow me at least to kiss your hand." - -"I have no time," said she, laughing, sticking the corkscrew into the -neck of the bottle. "Chambertin--it is a pretty name; and then do you -remember that before our marriage (how hard this cork is!) you told me -that you liked it on account of a poem by Alfred de Musset? which, -by the way, you have not let me read yet. Do you see the two little -Bohemian glasses which I bought expressly for this evening? We will -drink each other's health in them." - -"And his, too, eh?" - -"The heir's, poor dear love of an heir! I should think so. And then I -will put away the two glasses against this time next year; they shall -be our Christmas Eve glasses? Every year we will sup like this together, -however old we may get." - -"But, my dear, how about the time when we have no longer any teeth?" - -"Well, we will sup on good strong soups; it will be very nice, all the -same. Another piece, please, with some of the jelly. Thanks." - -As she held out her plate I noticed her arm, the outline of which was -lost in lace. - -"Why are you looking up my sleeve instead of eating?" - -"I am looking at your arm, dear. You are charming, let me tell you, this -evening. That coiffure suits you so well, and that dress which I was -unacquainted with." - -"Well, when one seeks to make a conquest--" - -"How pretty you look, pet!" - -"Is it true that you think me charming, pretty, and a pet this evening? -Well, then," lowering her eyes and smiling at her bracelets, "in that -case I do not see why--" - -"What is it you do not see, dear?" - -"I do not see any reason why you should not come and give me just a -little kiss." - -And as the kiss was prolonged, she said to me, amid bursts of laughter, -her head thrown back, and showing the double row of her white teeth: "I -should like some pie; yes, some brie! You will break my Bohemian glass, -the result of my economy. You always cause some mishap when you want to -kiss me. Do you recollect at Madame de Brill's ball, two days before -our marriage, how you tore my skirt while waltzing in the little -drawing-room?" - -"Because it is difficult to do two things at once-to keep step and to -kiss one's partner." - -"I recollect, too, when mamma asked how my skirt had got torn, I felt -that I was blushing up to my ears. And Madame D., that old jaundiced -fairy, who said to me with her Lenten smile, 'How flushed you are -tonight, my dear child!' I could have strangled her! I said it was the -key of the door that had caught it. I looked at you out of the corner of -my eye; you were pulling your moustache and seemed greatly annoyed--you -are keeping all the truffles for yourself; that is kind--not that one; -I want the big black one there in the corner-it was very wrong all the -same, for--oh! not quite full--I do not want to be tipsy--for, after -all, if we had not been married--and that might have happened, for -you know they say that marriages only depend on a thread. Well, if the -thread had not been strong enough, I should have remained a maid with a -kiss on my shoulder, and a nice thing that would have been." - -"Bah! it does not stain." - -"Yes, Monsieur, it does, I beg your pardon. It stains so much that there -are husbands, I believe, who even shed their blood to wash out such -little stains." - -"But I was joking, dear. Hang it!--don't you think--yes, certainly, hang -it!" - -"Ah! that's right, I like to see you angry. You are a trifle jealous, -dear--oh! that is too bad; I asked you for the big black one, and you -have gone and eaten it." - -"I am sorry, dear; I quite forgot about it." - -"It was the same at the Town Hall, where I was obliged to jog your elbow -to make you answer 'Yes' to the Mayor's kind words." - -"Kind!" - -"Yes, kind. I thought him charming. No one could have been more graceful -than he was in addressing me. 'Mademoiselle, will you consent to -accept for your husband that great, ugly fellow standing beside you?'" -(Laughing, with her mouth full.) "I wanted to say to him, 'Let us come -to an understanding, Mr. Mayor; there is something to be said on either -side.' I am choking!"--she bursts out laughing--"I was wrong not to -impose restrictions. Your health, dear! I am teasing you; it is very -stupid. I said 'Yes' with all my heart, I can assure you, dear, and I -thought the word too weak a one. When I think that all women, even the -worst, say that word, I feel ashamed not to have found another." Holding -out her glass: "To our golden wedding--will you touch glasses?" - -"And to his baptism, little mamma." - -In a low voice: "Tell me--are you sorry you married me?" - -Laughing, "Yes." Kissing her on the shoulder, "I think I have found the -stain again; it was just there." - -"It is two in the morning, the fire is out, and I am a little--you won't -laugh now? Well, I am a little dizzy." - -"A capital pie, eh?" - -"A capital pie! We shall have a cup of tea for breakfast tomorrow, shall -we not?" - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. FROM ONE THING TO ANOTHER - - SCENE.--The country in autumn--The wind is blowing without--MADAME, - seated by the fireside in a large armchair, is engaged in needlework - --MONSIEUR, seated in front of her, is watching the flames of the - fire--A long silence. - -Monsieur--Will you pass me the poker, my dear? - -Madame--(humming to herself)--"And yet despite so many fears." (Spoken.) -Here is the poker. (Humming.) "Despite the painful----" - -Monsieur--That is by Mehul, is it not, my dear? Ah! that is music--I -saw Delaunay Riquier in Joseph. (He hums as he makes up the fire.) "Holy -pains." (Spoken.) One wonders why it does not burn, and, by Jove! it -turns out to be green wood. Only he was a little too robust--Riquier. A -charming voice, but he is too stout. - -Madame--(holding her needlework at a distance, the better to judge of -the effect)--Tell me, George, would you have this square red or black? -You see, the square near the point. Tell me frankly. - -Monsieur--(singing) "If you can repent." (Spoken without turning his -head.) Red, my dear; red. I should not hesitate; I hate black. - -Madame--Yes, but if I make that red it will lead me to--(She reflects.) - -Monsieur--Well, my dear, if it leads you away, you must hold fast to -something to save yourself. - -Madame--Come, George, I am speaking seriously. You know that if this -little square is red, the point can not remain violet, and I would not -change that for anything. - -Monsieur--(slowly and seriously)--My dear, will you follow the advice -of an irreproachable individual, to whose existence you have linked your -fate? Well, make that square pea-green, and so no more about it. Just -look whether a coal fire ever looked like that. - -Madame--I should only be too well pleased to use up my pea-green wool; I -have a quantity of it. - -Monsieur--Then where lies the difficulty? - -Madame--The difficulty is that pea-green is not sufficiently religious. - -Monsieur--Hum! (Humming.) Holy pains! (Spoken.) Will you be kind -enough to pass the bellows? Would it be indiscreet to ask why the poor -pea-green, which does not look very guilty, has such an evil reputation? -You are going in for religious needlework, then, my dear? - -Madame--Oh, George! I beg of you to spare me your fun. I have been -familiar with it for a long time, you know, and it is horribly -disagreeable to me. I am simply making a little mat for the -confessional-box of the vicar. There! are you satisfied? You know what -it is for, and you must understand that under the present circumstances -pea-green would be altogether out of place. - -Monsieur--Not the least in the world. I can swear to you that I could -just as well confess with pea-green under my feet. It is true that I am -naturally of a resolute disposition. Use up your wool; I can assure -you that the vicar will accept it all the same. He does not know how to -refuse. (He plies the bellows briskly.) - -Madame--You are pleased, are you not? - -Monsieur--Pleased at what, dear? - -Madame--Pleased at having vented your sarcasm, at having passed a jest -on one who is absent. Well, I tell you that you are a bad man, seeing -that you seek to shake the faith of those about you. My beliefs had -need be very fervent, principles strong, and have real virtue, to resist -these incessant attacks. Well, why are you looking at me like that? - -Monsieur--I want to be converted, my little apostle. You are so -pretty when you speak out; your eyes glisten, your voice rings, your -gestures--I am sure that you could speak like that for a long time, eh? -(He kisses her hand, and takes two of her curls and ties them under hey -chin.) You are looking pretty, my pet. - -Madame--Oh! you think you have reduced me to silence because you have -interrupted me. Ah! there, you have tangled my hair. How provoking you -are! It will take me an hour to put it right. You are not satisfied with -being a prodigy of impiety, but you must also tangle my hair. Come, hold -out your hands and take this skein of wool. - -Monsieur--(sitting down on a stool, which he draws as closely as -possible to Madame, and holding up his hands) My little Saint John! - -Madame--Not so close, George; not so close. (She smiles despite -herself.) How silly you are! Please be careful; you will break my wool. - -Monsieur--Your religious wool. - -Madame--Yes, my religious wool. (She gives him a little pat on the -cheek.) Why do you part your hair so much on one side, George? It would -suit you much better in the middle, here. Yes, you may kiss me, but -gently. - -Monsieur--Can you guess what I am thinking of? - -Madame--How do you imagine I could guess that? - -Monsieur--Well, I am thinking of the barometer which is falling and of -the thermometer which is falling too. - -Madame--You see, cold weather is coming on and my mat will never be -finished. Come, let us make haste. - -Monsieur--I was thinking of the thermometer which is falling and of my -room which faces due north. - -Madame--Did you not choose it yourself? My wool! Good gracious! my wool! -Oh! the wicked wretch! - -Monsieur--In summer my room with the northern aspect is, no doubt, very -pleasant; but when autumn comes, when the wind creeps in, when the rain -trickles down the windowpanes, when the fields, the country, seem hidden -under a huge veil of sadness, when the spoils of our woodlands strew the -earth, when the groves have lost their mystery and the nightingale her -voice--oh! then the room with the northern aspect has a very northern -aspect, and-- - -Madame--(continuing to wind her wool)--What nonsense you are talking! - -Monsieur--I protest against autumns, that is all. God's sun is hidden -and I seek another. Is not that natural, my little fairhaired saint, my -little mystic lamb, my little blessed palmbranch? This new sun I find -in you, pet--in your look, in the sweet odor of your person, in the -rustling of your skirt, in the down on your neck which one notices by -the lamp-light when you bend over the vicar's mat, in your nostril which -expands when my lips approach yours-- - -Madame--Will you be quiet, George? It is Friday, and Ember week. - -Monsieur--And your dispensation? (He kisses her.) Don't you see that -your hand shakes, that you blush, that your heart is beating? - -Madame--George, will you have done, sir? (She pulls away her hand, -throws herself back in the chair, and avoids her husband's glance.) - -Monsieur--Your poor little heart beats, and it is right, dear; it knows -that autumn is the time for confidential chats and evening caresses, the -time for kisses. And you know it too, for you defend yourself poorly, -and I defy you to look me in the face. Come! look me in the face. - -Madame--(she suddenly leans toward hey husband, the ball of wool rolling -into the fireplace, the pious task falling to the ground. She takes his -head between her hands)--Oh, what a dear, charming husband you would be -if you had-- - -Monsieur--If I had what? Tell me quickly. - -Madame--If you had a little religion. I should only ask for such a -little at the beginning. It is not very difficult, I can assure you. -While, now, you are really too-- - -Monsieur--Pea-green, eh? - -Madame--Yes, pea-green, you great goose. (She laughs frankly.) - -Monsieur--(lifting his hands in the air)--Sound trumpets! Madame has -laughed; Madame is disarmed. Well, my snow-white lamb, I am going to -finish my story; listen properly, there, like that--your hands here, my -head so. Hush! don't laugh. I am speaking seriously. As I was saying to -you, the north room is large but cold, poetic but gloomy, and I will add -that two are not too many in this wintry season to contend against the -rigors of the night. I will further remark that if the sacred ties of -marriage have a profoundly social significance, it is--do not interrupt -me--at that hour of one's existence when one shivers on one's solitary -couch. - -Madame--You can not be serious. - -Monsieur--Well, seriously, I should like the vicar's mat piously spread -upon your bed, to keep us both warm together, this very evening. I wish -to return as speedily as possible to the intimacy of conjugal life. Do -you hear how the wind blows and whistles through the doors? The fire -splutters, and your feet are frozen. (He takes her foot in his hands.) - -Madame--But you are taking off my slipper, George. - -Monsieur--Do you think, my white lamb, that I am going to leave your -poor little foot in that state? Let it stay in my hand to be warmed. -Nothing is so cold as silk. What! openwork stockings? My dear, you are -rather dainty about your foot-gear for a Friday. Do you know, pet, you -can not imagine how gay I wake up when the morning sun shines into my -room. You shall see. I am no longer a man; I am a chaffinch; all the -joys of spring recur to me. I laugh, I sing, I speechify, I tell tales -to make one die of laughter. Sometimes I even dance. - -Madame--Come now! I who in the morning like neither noise nor broad -daylight--how little all that suits! - -Monsieur--(suddenly changing his tone)--Did I say that I liked all that? -The morning sun? Never in autumn, my sweet dove, never. I awake, on the -contrary full of languor and poesy; I was like that in my very cradle. -We will prolong the night, and behind the drawn curtain, behind the -closed shutter, we will remain asleep without sleeping. Buried in -silence and shadow, delightfully stretched beneath your warm eider-down -coverlets, we will slowly enjoy the happiness of being together, and we -will wish one another good-morning only on the stroke of noon. You do -not like noise, dear. I will not say a word. Not a murmur to disturb -your unfinished dream and warn you that you are no longer sleeping; -not a breath to recall you to reality; not a movement to rustle the -coverings. I will be silent as a shade, motionless as a statue; and if -I kiss you--for, after all, I have my weaknesses--it will be done with -a thousand precautions, my lips will scarcely brush your sleeping -shoulder; and if you quiver with pleasure as you stretch out your arms, -if your eye half uncloses at the murmur of my kiss, if your lips smile -at me, if I kiss you, it would be because you would like me to, and I -shall have nothing to reproach myself with. - -Madame--(her eyes half closed, leaning back in hey armchair, her head -bent with emotion, she places her hands before his mouth. In a low -voice)--Hush, hush! Don't say that, dear; not another word! If you knew -how wrong it was! - -Monsieur--Wrong! What is there that is wrong? Is your heart of marble or -adamant, that you do not see that I love you, you naughty child? That -I hold out my arms to you, that I long to clasp you to my heart, and to -fall asleep in your hair? What is there more sacred in the world than to -love one's wife or love one's husband? (Midnight strikes.) - -Madame--(she suddenly changes hey expression at the sound, throws her -arms round her husband, and hurriedly kisses him thrice)--You thought I -did not love you, eh, dear? Oh, yes! I love you. Great baby! not to see -that I was waiting the time. - -Monsieur--What time, dear? - -Madame--The time. It has struck twelve, see. (She blushes crimson.) -Friday is over. (She holds out her hand for him to kiss.) - -Monsieur--Are you sure the clock is not five minutes fast, love? - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. A LITTLE CHAT - - MADAME F-----MADAME H------ - - (These ladies are seated at needlework as they talk.) - -Madame F--For myself, you know, my dear, I fulfil my duties tolerably, -still I am not what would be called a devotee. By no means. Pass me your -scissors. Thanks. - -Madame H--You are quite welcome, dear. What a time those little squares -of lace must take. I am like yourself in respect of religion; in the -first place, I think that nothing should be overdone. Have you ever-I -have never spoken to any one on the subject, but I see your ideas are so -in accordance with my own that-- - -Madame F--Come, speak out, dear; you trust me a little, I hope. - -Madame H--Well, then, have you--tell me truly--ever had any doubts? - -Madame F--(after reflecting for a moment)--Doubts! No. And you? - -Madame H--I have had doubts, which has been a real grief to me. Heavens! -how I have wept. - -Madame F--I should think so, my poor dear. For my own part, my faith is -very strong. These doubts must have made you very unhappy. - -Madame H--Terribly so. You know, it seems as if everything failed you; -there is a vacancy all about you--I have never spoken about it to my -husband, of course--Leon is a jewel of a man, but he will not listen to -anything of that kind. I can still see him, the day after our marriage; -I was smoothing my hair--broad bands were then worn, you know. - -Madame F--Yes, yes; they were charming. You will see that we shall go -back to them. - -Madame H--I should not be surprised; fashion is a wheel that turns. -Leon, then, said to me the day after our wedding: "My dear child, I -shall not hinder you going to church, but I beg you, for mercy's sake, -never to say a word to me about it." - -Madame F--Really, Monsieur H. said that to you? - -Madame H--Upon my honor. Oh! my husband is all that is most--or, if you -prefer it, all that is least-- - -Madame F--Yes, yes, I understand. That is a grief, you know. Mine is -only indifferent. From time to time he says some disagreeable things to -me on the question, but I am sure he could be very easily brought back -to the right. At the first illness he has, you shall see. When he has -only a cold in the head, I notice the change. You have not seen my -thimble? - -Madame H--Here it is. Do not be too sure of that, dear; men are not to -be brought back by going "chk, chk" to them, like little chickens. And -then, though I certainly greatly admire the men who observe religious -practices, you know me well enough not to doubt that--I think, as I told -you, that nothing should be exaggerated. And yourself, pet, should you -like to see your husband walking before the banner with a great wax -taper in his right hand and a bouquet of flowers in his left? - -Madame F--Oh! no, indeed. Why not ask me at once whether I should like -to see Leon in a black silk skull cap, with cotton in his ears and a -holy water sprinkler in his hand? One has no need to go whining about a -church with one's nose buried in a book to be a pious person; there is a -more elevated form of religion, which is that of--of refined people, you -know. - -Madame H--Ah! when you speak like that, I am of your opinion. I think, -for instance, that there is nothing looks finer than a man while the -host is being elevated. Arms crossed, no book, head slightly bowed, -grave look, frock coat buttoned up. Have you seen Monsieur de P. at -mass? How well he looks! - -Madame F--He is such a fine man, and, then, he dresses so well. Have -you seen him on horseback? Ah! so you have doubts; but tell me what they -are, seeing we are indulging in confidences. - -Madame H--I can hardly tell you. Doubts, in short; about hell, for -instance, I have had horrible doubts. Oh! but do not let us speak about -that; I believe it is wrong even to think of it. - -Madame F--I have very broad views on that point; I never think about it. -Besides, my late confessor helped me. "Do not seek too much," he always -said to me, "do not try to understand that which is unfathomable." -You did not know Father Gideon? He was a jewel of a confessor; I was -extremely pleased with him. Not too tedious, always discreet, and, above -all, well-bred. He turned monk from a romantic cause--a penitent was -madly in love with him. - -Madame H--Impossible! - -Madame F--Yes, really. What! did you not know about it? The success -of the monastery was due to that accident. Before the coming of Father -Gideon it vegetated, but on his coming the ladies soon flocked there -in crowds. They organized a little guild, entitled "The Ladies of the -Agony." They prayed for the Chinese who had died without confession, and -wore little death's heads in aluminum as sleeve-links. It became very -fashionable, as you are aware, and the good fathers organized, in turn, -a registry for men servants; and the result is that, from one thing -leading to another, the community has become extremely wealthy. I have -even heard that one of the most important railway stations in Paris is -shortly to be moved, so that the size of their garden can be increased, -which is rather restricted at present. - -Madame H--As to that, it is natural enough that men should want a -place to walk in at home; but what I do not understand is that a woman, -however pious she may be, should fall in love with a priest. It is all -very well, but that is no longer piety; it is--fanaticism. I venerate -priests, I can say so truly, but after all I can not imagine myself--you -will laugh at me--ha, ha, ha! - -Madame F--Not at all. Ha, ha, ha! what a child you are! - -Madame H--(working with great briskness)--Well, I can not imagine that -they are men--like the others. - -Madame F--(resuming work with equal ardor)--And yet, my dear, people say -they are. - -Madame H--There are so many false reports set afloat. (A long silence.) - -Madame F--(in a discreet tone of voice)--After all, there are priests -who have beards--the Capuchins, for instance. - -Madame H--Madame de V. has a beard right up to her eyes, so that counts -for nothing, dear. - -Madame F--That counts for nothing. I do not think so. In the first -place, Madame de V.'s beard is not a perennial beard; her niece told me -that she sheds her moustaches every autumn. What can a beard be that can -not stand the winter? A mere trifle. - -Madame H--A mere trifle that is horribly ugly, my dear. - -Madame F--Oh! if Madame de V. had only moustaches to frighten away -people, one might still look upon her without sorrow, but-- - -Madame H--I grant all that. Let us allow that the Countess's moustache -and imperial are a nameless species of growth. I do not attach much -importance to the point, you understand. She has a chin of heartbreaking -fertility, that is all. - -Madame F--To return to what we were saying, how is it that the men -who are strongest, most courageous, most manly--soldiers, in fact--are -precisely those who have most beard? - -Madame H--That is nonsense, for then the pioneers would be braver than -the Generals; and, in any case, there is not in France, I am sure, a -General with as much beard as a Capuchin. You have never looked at a -Capuchin then? - -Madame F--Oh, yes! I have looked at one quite close. It is a rather -funny story. Fancy Clementine's cook having a brother a Capuchin--an -ex-jeweller, a very decent man. In consequence of misfortunes in -business--it was in 1848, business was at a stand-still--in short, he -lost his senses--no, he did not lose his senses, but he threw himself -into the arms of Heaven. - -Madame H--Oh! I never knew that! When? Clementine-- - -Madame F--I was like you, I would not believe it, but one day Clementine -said to me: "Since you will not believe in my Capuchin, come and see me -tomorrow about three o'clock; he will be paying a visit to his sister. -Don't have lunch first; we will lunch together." Very good. I went the -next day with Louise, who absolutely insisted upon accompanying me, and -I found at Clementine's five or six ladies installed in the drawing-room -and laughing like madcaps. They had all come to see the Capuchin. -"Well," said I, as I went in, when they all began to make signs to me -and whisper, "Hush, hush!" He was in the kitchen. - -Madame H--And what was he like? - -Madame F--Oh! very nice, except his feet; you know how it always gives -one a chill to look at their feet; but, in short, he was very amiable. -He was sent for into the drawing-room, but he would not take anything -except a little biscuit and a glass of water, which took away our -appetites. He was very lively; told us that we were coquettes with our -little bonnets and our full skirts. He was very funny, always a little -bit of the jeweller at the bottom, but with plenty of good nature and -frankness. He imitated the buzzing of a fly for us; it was wonderful. He -also wanted to show us a little conjuring trick, but he needed two corks -for it, and unfortunately his sister could only find one. - -Madame H--No matter, I can not understand Clementine engaging a servant -like that. - -Madame F--Why? The brother is a guarantee. - -Madame H--Of morality, I don't say no; but it seems to me that a girl -like that can not be very discreet in her ways. - -Madame F--How do you make that out? - -Madame H--I don't know, I can not reason the matter out, but it seems to -me that it must be so, that is all,... besides, I should not like to see -a monk in my kitchen, close to the soup. Oh, mercy! no! - -Madame F--What a child you are! - -Madame H--That has nothing to do with religious feelings, my dear; I do -not attack any dogma. Ah! if I were to say, for instance--come now, if I -were to say, what now? - -Madame F--In point of fact, what really is dogma? - -Madame H--Well, it is what can not be attacked. Thus, for instance, a -thing that is evident, you understand me, is unassailable,... or else it -should be assailed,... in short, it can not be attacked. That is why it -is monstrous to allow the Jewish religion and the Protestant religion in -France, because these religions can be assailed, for they have no dogma. -I give you this briefly, but in your prayer-book you will find the list -of dogmas. I am a rod of iron as regards dogmas. My husband, who, as I -said, has succeeded in inspiring me with doubts on many matters--without -imagining it, for he has never required anything of me; I must do him -that justice--but who, at any rate, has succeeded in making me neglect -many things belonging to religion, such as fasting, vespers, sermons,... -confession. - -Madame F--Confession! Oh! my dear, I should never have believed that. - -Madame H--It is in confidence, dear pet, that I tell you this. You will -swear never to speak of it? - -Madame F--Confession! Oh! yes, I swear it. Come here, and let me kiss -you. - -Madame H--You pity me, do you not? - -Madame F--I can not pity you too much, for I am absolutely in the same -position. - -Madame H--You, too! Good heavens! how I love you. What can one do, eh? -Must one not introduce some plan of conciliation into the household, -sacrifice one's belief a little to that of one's husband? - -Madame F--No doubt. For instance, how would you have me go to high mass, -which is celebrated at my parish church at eleven o'clock exactly? That -is just our breakfast time. Can I let my husband breakfast alone? He -would never hinder me from going to high mass, he has said so a thousand -times, only he has always added, "When you want to go to mass during -breakfast time, I only ask one thing--it is to give me notice the day -before, so that I may invite some friends to keep me company." - -Madame H--But only fancy, pet, our two husbands could not be more alike -if they were brothers. Leon has always said, "My dear little chicken--" - -Madame F--Ha! ha! ha! - -Madame H--Yes, that is his name for me; you know how lively he is. He -has always said to me, then, "My dear little chicken, I am not a man to -do violence to your opinions, but in return give way to me as regards -some of your pious practices." I only give you the mere gist of it; it -was said with a thousand delicacies, which I suppress. And I have agreed -by degrees,... so that, while only paying very little attention to the -outward observances of religion, I have remained, as I told you, a bar -of iron as regards dogmas. Oh! as to that, I would not give way an inch, -a hair-breadth, and Leon is the first to tell me that I am right. After -all, dogma is everything; practice, well, what would you? If I could -bring Leon round, it would be quite another thing. How glad I am to have -spoken to you about all this. - -Madame F--Have we not been chattering? But it is half-past five, and I -must go and take my cinchona bark. Thirty minutes before meals, it is a -sacred duty. Will you come, pet? - -Madame H--Stop a moment, I have lost my thimble again and must find it. - - - - -BOOK 3. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. THE HOT-WATER BOTTLE - -When midnight strikes, when the embers die away into ashes, when the -lamp burns more feebly and your eyes close in spite of yourself, the -best thing to do, dear Madame, is to go to bed. - -Get up from your armchair, take off your bracelets, light your -rosecolored taper, and proceed slowly, to the soft accompaniment of your -trailing skirt, rustling across the carpet, to your dressing-room, that -perfumed sanctuary in which your beauty, knowing itself to be alone, -raises its veils, indulges in self-examination, revels in itself and -reckons up its treasures as a miser does his wealth. - -Before the muslin-framed mirror, which reveals all that it sees so well, -you pause carelessly and with a smile give one long satisfied look, then -with two fingers you withdraw the pin that kept up your hair, and -its long, fair tresses unroll and fall in waves, veiling your bare -shoulders. With a coquettish hand, the little finger of which is turned -up, you caress, as you gather them together, the golden flood of -your abundant locks, while with the other you pass through them the -tortoiseshell comb that buries itself in the depths of this fair forest -and bends with the effort. - -Your tresses are so abundant that your little hand can scarcely grasp -them. They are so long that your outstretched arm scarcely reaches their -extremity. Hence it is not without difficulty that you manage to twist -them up and imprison them in your embroidered night-cap. - -This first duty accomplished, you turn the silver tap, and the pure and -limpid water pours into a large bowl of enamelled porcelain. You throw -in a few drops of that fluid which perfumes and softens the skin, and -like a nymph in the depths of a quiet wood preparing for the toilet, you -remove the drapery that might encumber you. - -But what, Madame, you frown? Have I said too much or not enough? Is -it not well known that you love cold water; and do you think it is not -guessed that at the contact of the dripping sponge you quiver from head -to foot? - -But what matters it, your toilette for the night is completed, you are -fresh, restored, and white as a nun in your embroidered dressing-gown, -you dart your bare feet into satin slippers and reenter your bedroom, -shivering slightly. To see you walking thus with hurried steps, wrapped -tightly in your dressing-gown, and with your pretty head hidden in its -nightcap, you might be taken for a little girl leaving the confessional -after confessing some terrible sin. - -Gaining the bedside, Madame lays aside her slippers, and lightly and -without effort, bounds into the depths of the alcove. - -However, Monsieur, who was already asleep with his nose on the Moniteur, -suddenly wakes up at the movement imparted to the bed. - -"I thought that you were in bed already, dear," he murmurs, falling off -to sleep again. "Good-night." - -"If I had been in bed you would have noticed it." Madame stretches out -her feet and moves them about; she seems to be in quest of something. "I -am not in such a hurry to go to sleep as you are, thank goodness." - -Monsieur, suddenly and evidently annoyed, says: "But what is the matter, -my dear? You fidget and fidget--I want to sleep." He turns over as he -speaks. - -"I fidget! I am simply feeling for my hot-water bottle; you are -irritating." - -"Your hot-water bottle?" is Monsieur's reply, with a grunt. - -"Certainly, my hot-water bottle, my feet are frozen." She goes on -feeling for it. "You are really very amiable this evening; you began by -dozing over the 'Revue des Deux Mondes', and I find you snoring over -the 'Moniteur'. In your place I should vary my literature. I am sure you -have taken my hot-water bottle." - -"I have been doing wrong. I will subscribe to the 'Tintamarre' in -future. Come, good-night, my dear." He turns over. "Hello, your -hot-water bottle is right at the bottom of the bed; I can feel it with -the tips of my toes." - -"Well, push it up; do you think that I can dive down there after it?" - -"Shall I ring for your maid to help you?" He makes a movement of -ill-temper, pulls the clothes up to his chin, and buries his head in the -pillow. "Goodnight, my dear." - -Madame, somewhat vexed, says: "Good-night, goodnight." - -The respiration of Monsieur grows smooth, and even his brows relax, his -forehead becomes calm, he is on the point of losing all consciousness of -the realities of this life. - -Madame taps lightly on her husband's shoulder. - -"Hum," growls Monsieur. - -Madame taps again. - -"Well, what is it?" - -Madame, in an angelic tone of voice, "My dear, would you put out the -candle?" - -Monsieur, without opening his eyes, "The hot-water bottle, the candle, -the candle, the hot-water bottle." - -"Good heavens! how irritable you are, Oscar. I will put it out myself. -Don't trouble yourself. You really have a very bad temper, my dear; you -are angry, and if you were goaded a little, you would, in five minutes, -be capable of anything." - -Monsieur, his voice smothered in the pillow, "No, not at all; I am -sleepy, dear, that is all. Good-night, my dear." - -Madame, briskly, "You forget that in domestic life good feeling has for -its basis reciprocal consideration." - -"I was wrong--come, good-night." He raises himself up a little. "Would -you like me to kiss you?" - -"I don't want you to, but I permit." She puts her face toward that of -her husband, who kisses her on the forehead. "You are really too good, -you have kissed my nightcap." - -Monsieur, smiling, "Your hair smells very nice... You see I am so -sleepy. Ah! you have it in little plaits, you are going to wave it -to-morrow." - -"To wave it. You were the first to find that that way of dressing it -became me, besides, it is the fashion, and tomorrow is my reception day. -Come, you irritable man, embrace me once for all and snore at your ease, -you are dying to do so." - -She holds her neck toward her husband. - -Monsieur, laughing, "In the first place, I never snore. I never joke." -He kisses his wife's neck, and rests his head on her shoulder. - -"Well, what are you doing there?" is her remark. - -"I am digesting my kiss." - -Madame affects the lackadaisical, and looks sidewise at her husband -with an eye half disarmed. Monsieur sniffs the loved perfume with open -nostrils. - -After a period of silence he whispers in his wife's ear, "I am not -at all sleepy now, dear. Are your feet still cold? I will find the -hot-water bottle." - -"Oh, thanks, put out the light and let us go to sleep; I am quite tired -out." - -She turns round by resting her arm on his face. - -"No, no, I won't have you go to sleep with your feet chilled; there -is nothing worse. There, there is the hot-water bottle, warm your poor -little feet... there... like that." - -"Thanks, I am very comfortable. Good-night, dear, let us go to sleep." - -"Good-night, my dear." - -After a long silence Monsieur turns first on one side and then on the -other, and ends by tapping lightly on his wife's shoulder. - -Madame, startled, "What is the matter? Good heavens! how you startled -me!" - -Monsieur, smiling, "Would you be kind enough to put out the candle?" - -"What! is it for that you wake me up in the middle of my sleep? I shall -not be able to doze again. You are unbearable." - -"You find me unbearable?" He comes quite close to his wife; "Come, let -me explain my idea to you." - -Madame turns round--her eye meets the eye... full of softness.. of her -husband. "Dear me," she says, "you are a perfect tiger." - -Then, putting her mouth to his ear, she murmurs with a smile, "Come, -explain your idea, for the sake of peace and quiet." - -Madame, after a very long silence, and half asleep, "Oscar!" - -Monsieur, his eyes closed, in a faint voice, "My dear." - -"How about the candle? it is still alight." - -"Ah! the candle. I will put it out. If you were very nice you would -give me a share of your hot-water bottle; one of my feet is frozen. -Good-night." - -"Good-night." - -They clasp hands and fall asleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. A LONGING - - MONSIEUR and MADAME are quietly sitting together--The clock has just - struck ten--MONSIEUR is in his dressing-gown and slippers, is - leaning back in an armchair and reading the newspaper--MADAME is - carelessly working squares of laces. - -Madame--Such things have taken place, have they not, dear? - -Monsieur--(without raising his eyes)--Yes, my dear. - -Madame--There, well I should never have believed it. But they are -monstrous, are they not? - -Monsieur--(without raising his eyes)--Yes, my dear. - -Madame--Well, and yet, see how strange it is, Louise acknowledged it -to me last month, you know; the evening she called for me to go to the -perpetual Adoration, and our hour of adoration, as it turned out, by the -way, was from six to seven; impossible, too, to change our turn; none -of the ladies caring to adore during dinner-time, as is natural enough. -Good heavens, what a rage we were in! How good God must be to have -forgiven you. Do you remember? - -Monsieur--(continuing to read)--Yes, dear. - -Madame--Ah! you remember that you said, 'I don't care a...' Oh! but I -won't repeat what you said, it is too naughty. How angry you were! 'I -will go and dine at the restaurant, confound it!' But you did not say -confound, ha! ha! ha! Well, I loved you just the same at that moment; -it vexed me to see you in a rage on God's account, but for my own part I -was pleased; I like to see you in a fury; your nostrils expand, and then -your moustache bristles, you put me in mind of a lion, and I have always -liked lions. When I was quite a child at the Zoological Gardens they -could not get me away from them; I threw all my sous into their cage for -them to buy gingerbread with; it was quite a passion. Well, to continue -my story. (She looks toward her husband who is still reading, and after -a pause,) Is it interesting-that which you are reading? - -Monsieur--(like a man waking up)--What is it, my dear child? What I am -reading? Oh, it would scarcely interest you. (With a grimace.) There are -Latin phrases, you know, and, besides, I am hoarse. But I am listening, -go, on. (He resumes his newspaper.) - -Madame--Well, to return to the perpetual Adoration, Louise confided to -me, under the pledge of secrecy, that she was like me. - -Monsieur--Like you? What do you mean? - -Madame--Like me; that is plain enough. - -Monsieur--You are talking nonsense, my little angel, follies as great as -your chignon. You women will end by putting pillows into your chignons. - -Madame--(resting her elbows on her husband's knees)--But, after all, -the instincts, the resemblances we have, must certainly be attributed to -something. Can any one imagine, for instance, that God made your cousin -as stupid as he is, and with a head like a pear? - -Monsieur--My cousin! my cousin! Ferdinand is only a cousin by marriage. -I grant, however, that he is not very bright. - -Madame--Well, I am sure that his mother must have had a longing, or -something. - -Monsieur--What can I do to help it, my angel? - -Madame--Nothing at all; but it clearly shows that such things are not to -be laughed at; and if I were to tell you that I had a longing-- - -Monsieur--(letting fall his newspaper)--The devil! a longing for what? - -Madame--Ah! there your nostrils are dilating; you are going to -resemble a lion again, and I never shall dare to tell you. It is so -extraordinary, and yet my mother had exactly the same longing. - -Monsieur--Come, tell it me, you see that I am patient. If it is possible -to gratify it, you know that I love you, my... Don't kiss me on the -neck; you will make me jump up to the ceiling, my darling. - -Madame--Repeat those two little words. I am your darling, then? - -Monsieur--Ha! ha! ha! She has little fingers which--ha! ha!--go into -your neck--ha! ha!--you will make me break something, nervous as I am. - -Madame--Well, break something. If one may not touch one's husband, one -may as well go into a convent at once. (She puts her lips to MONSIEUR'S -ear and coquettishly pulls the end of his moustache.) I shall not be -happy till I have what I am longing for, and then it would be so kind of -you to do it. - -Monsieur--Kind to do what? Come, dear, explain yourself. - -Madame--You must first of all take off that great, ugly dressing-gown, -pull on your boots, put on your hat and go. Oh, don't make any faces; -if you grumble in the least all the merit of your devotedness will -disappear ... and go to the grocer's at the corner of the street, a very -respectable shop. - -Monsieur--To the grocer's at ten o'clock at night! Are you mad? I will -ring for John; it is his business. - -Madame (staying his hand) You indiscreet man. These are our own private -affairs; we must not take any one into our confidence. I will go into -your dressing-room to get your things, and you will put your boots on -before the fire comfortably... to please me, Alfred, my love, my life. I -would give my little finger to have... - -Monsieur--To have what, hang it all, what, what, what? - -Madame--(her face alight and fixing her eyes on him)--I want a sou's -worth of paste. Had not you guessed it? - -Monsieur--But it is madness, delirium, fol-- - -Madame--I said paste, dearest; only a sou's worth, wrapped in strong -paper. - -Monsieur--No, no. I am kind-hearted, but I should reproach myself-- - -Madame--(closing his mouth with her little hands)--Oh, not a word; you -are going to utter something naughty. But when I tell you that I have a -mad longing for it, that I love you as I have never loved you yet, that -my mother had the same desire--Oh! my poor mother (she weeps in her -hands), if she could only know, if she were not at the other end of -France. You have never cared for my parents; I saw that very well on our -wedding-day, and (she sobs) it will be the sorrow of my whole life. - -Monsieur--(freeing himself and suddenly rising)--Give me my boots. - -Madame--(with effusion)--Oh, thanks, Alfred, my love, you are good, yes, -you are good. Will you have your walking-stick, dear? - -Monsieur--I don't care. How much do you want of that abomination--a -franc's worth, thirty sous' worth, a louis' worth? - -Madame--You know very well that I would not make an abuse of it-only a -sou's worth. I have some sous for mass; here, take one. Adieu, Alfred; -be quick; be quick! - -(Exit MONSIEUR.) - -Left alone, Madame wafts a kiss in her most tender fashion toward the -door Monsieur has just closed behind him, then goes toward the glass -and smiles at herself with pleasure. Then she lights the wax candle in -a little candlestick, and quietly makes her way to the kitchen, -noiselessly opens a press, takes out three little dessert plates, -bordered with gold and ornamented with her initials, next takes from -a box lined with white leather, two silver spoons, and, somewhat -embarrassed by all this luggage, returns to her bedroom. - -Then she pokes the fire, draws a little buhl table close up to the -hearth, spreads a white cloth, sets out the plates, puts the spoons by -them, and enchanted, impatient, with flushed complexion, leans back -in an armchair. Her little foot rapidly taps the floor, she smiles, -pouts--she is waiting. - -At last, after an interval of some minutes, the outer door is heard to -close, rapid steps cross the drawingroom, Madame claps her hands and -Monsieur comes in. He does not look very pleased, as he advances holding -awkwardly in his left hand a flattened parcel, the contents of which may -be guessed. - -Madame--(touching a gold-bordered plate and holding it out to her -husband)--Relieve yourself of it, dear. Could you not have been quicker? - -Monsieur--Quicker? - -Madame--Oh! I am not angry with you, that is not meant for a reproach, -you are an angel; but it seems to me a century since you started. - -Monsieur--The man was just going to shut his shop up. My gloves are -covered with it... it's sticky... it's horrid, pah! the abomination! At -last I shall have peace and quietness. - -Madame--Oh! no harsh words, they hurt me so. But look at this pretty -little table, do you remember how we supped by the fireside? Ah! you -have forgotten it, a man's heart has no memory. - -Monsieur--Are you so mad as to imagine that I am going to touch it? Oh! -indeed! that is carrying-- - -Madame--(sadly)--See what a state you get in over a little favor I -ask of you. If in order to please me you were to overcome a slight -repugnance, if you were just to touch this nice, white jelly with you -lips, where would be the harm? - -Monsieur--The harm! the harm! it would be ridiculous. Never. - -Madame--That is the reason? "It would be absurd." It is not from -disgust, for there is nothing disgusting there, it is flour and water, -nothing more. It is not then from a dislike, but out of pride that you -refuse? - -Monsieur--(shrugging his shoulders)--What you say is childish, puerile, -silly. I do not care to answer it. - -Madame--And what you say is neither generous nor worthy of you, since -you abuse your superiority. You see me at your feet pleading for an -insignificant thing, puerile, childish, foolish, perhaps, but one which -would give me pleasure, and you think it heroic not to yield. Do you -want me to speak out, well? then, you men are unfeeling. - -Monsieur--Never. - -Madame--Why, you admitted it to me yourself one night, on the Pont des -Arts, as we were walking home from the theatre. - -Monsieur--After all, there is no great harm in that. - -Madame--(sadly)--I am not angry with you, this sternness is part of your -nature, you are a rod of iron. - -Monsieur--I have some energy when it is needed, I grant you, but I have -not the absurd pride you imagine, and there (he dips his finger in the -paste and carries it to his lips), is the proof, you spoilt child. Are -you satisfied? It has no taste, it is insipid. - -Madame--You were pretending. - -Monsieur--I swear to you... - -Madame (taking a little soon, filling it with her precious paste and -holding it to her husband's lips)--I want to see the face you will make, -love. - -Monsieur--(Puts out his lips, buries his two front teeth, with marked -disgust, in the paste, makes a horrible face and spits into the -fireplace)--Eugh. - -Madame--(still holding the spoon and with much interest) Well? - -Monsieur--Well! it is awful! oh! awful! taste it. - -Madame--(dreamily stirring the paste with the spoon, her little finger -in the air)--I should never have believed that it was so nasty. - -Monsieur--You will soon see for yourself, taste it, taste it. - -Madame--I am in no hurry, I have plenty of time. - -Monsieur--To see what it is like. Taste a little, come. - -Madame--(pushing away the plate with a look of horror)--Oh! how you -worry me. Be quiet, do; for a trifle I could hate you. It is disgusting, -this paste of yours! - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. FAMILY LIFE - -It was the evening of the 15th of February. It was dreadfully cold. The -snow drove against the windows and the wind whistled furiously under -the doors. My two aunts, seated at a table in one corner of the -drawing-room, gave vent from time to time to deep sighs, and, wriggling -in their armchairs, kept casting uneasy glances toward the bedroom door. -One of them had taken from a little leather bag placed on the table -her blessed rosary and was repeating her prayers, while her sister -was reading a volume of Voltaire's correspondence which she held at a -distance from her eyes, her lips moving as she perused it. - -For my own part, I was striding up and down the room, gnawing my -moustache, a bad habit I have never been able to get rid of, and halting -from time to time in front of Dr. C., an old friend of mine, who was -quietly reading the paper in the most comfortable of the armchairs. I -dared not disturb him, so absorbed did he seem in what he was reading, -but in my heart I was furious to see him so quiet when I myself was so -agitated. - -Suddenly he tossed the paper on to the couch and, passing his hand -across his bald and shining head, said: - -"Ah! if I were a minister, it would not take long, no, it would not be -very long.... You have read that article on Algerian cotton. One of two -things, either irrigation.... But you are not listening to me, and yet -it is a more serious matter than you think." - -He rose, and with his hands in his pocket, walked across the room -humming an old medical student's song. I followed him closely. - -"Jacques," said I, as he turned round, "tell me frankly, are you -satisfied?" - -"Yes, yes, I am satisfied... observe my untroubled look," and he broke -into his hearty and somewhat noisy laugh. - -"You are not hiding anything from me, my dear fellow?" - -"What a donkey you are, old fellow. I tell you that everything is going -on well." - -And he resumed his song, jingling the money in his pockets. - -"All is going on well, but it will take some time," he went on. "Let -me have one of your dressing-gowns. I shall be more comfortable for the -night, and these ladies will excuse me, will they not?" - -"Excuse you, I should think so, you, the doctor, and my friend!" I felt -devotedly attached to him that evening. - -"Well, then, if they will excuse me, you can very well let me have a -pair of slippers." - -At this moment a cry came from the next room and we distinctly heard -these words in a stifled voice: - -"Doctor... oh! mon Dieu!... doctor!" - -"It is frightful," murmured my aunts. - -"My dear friend," I exclaimed, seizing the doctor's arm, "you are quite -sure you are not concealing anything from me?" - -"If you have a very loose pair they will suit me best; I have not -the foot of a young girl.... I am not concealing anything, I am not -concealing anything.... What do you think I should hide from you? It is -all going on very well, only as I said it will take time--By the way, -tell Joseph to get me one of your smokingcaps; once in dressing-gown and -slippers a smokingcap is not out of the way, and I am getting bald, my -dear Captain. How infernally cold it is here! These windows face the -north, and there are no sand-bags. Mademoiselle de V.," he added, -turning to my aunt, "you will catch cold." - -Then as other sounds were heard, he said: "Let us go and see the little -lady." - -"Come here," said my wife, who had caught sight of me, in a low voice, -"come here and shake hands with me." Then she drew me toward her and -whispered in my ear: "You will be pleased to kiss the little darling, -won't you?" Her voice was so faint and so tender as she said this, and -she added: "Do not take your hand away, it gives me courage." - -I remained beside her, therefore, while the doctor, who had put on my -dressing-gown, vainly strove to button it. - -From time to time my poor little wife squeezed my hand violently, -closing her eyes, but not uttering a cry. The fire sparkled on the -hearth. The pendulum of the clock went on with its monotonous ticking, -but it seemed to me that all this calm was only apparent, that -everything about me must be in a state of expectation like myself and -sharing my emotion. In the bedroom beyond, the door of which was ajar, -I could see the end of the cradle and the shadow of the nurse who was -dozing while she waited. - -What I felt was something strange. I felt a new sentiment springing up -in my heart, I seemed to have some foreign body within my breast, and -this sweet sensation was so new to me that I was, as it were, alarmed at -it. I felt the little creature, who was there without yet being there, -clinging to me; his whole life unrolled itself before me. I saw him at -the same time a child and a grown-up man; it seemed to me that my own -life was about to be renewed in his and I felt from time to time an -irresistible need of giving him something of myself. - -Toward half-past eleven, the doctor, like a captain consulting his -compass, pulled out his watch, muttered something and drew near the bed. - -"Come, my dear lady," said he to my wife, "courage, we are all round you -and all is going well; within five minutes you will hear him cry out." - -My mother-in-law, almost beside herself, was biting her lips and each -pang of the sufferer was reflected upon her face. Her cap had -got disarranged in such a singular fashion that, under any other -circumstances, I should have burst out laughing. At that moment I heard -the drawing-room door open and saw the heads of my aunts, one above the -other, and behind them that of my father, who was twisting his heavy -white moustache with a grimace that was customary to him. - -"Shut the door," cried the doctor, angrily, "don't bother me." - -And with the greatest coolness in the world he turned to my -mother-in-law and added, "I ask a thousand pardons." - -But just then there was something else to think of than my old friend's -bluntness. - -"Is everything ready to receive him?" he continued, growling. - -"Yes, my dear doctor," replied my mother-in-law. - -At length, the doctor lifted into the air a little object which almost -immediately uttered a cry as piercing as a needle. I shall never forget -the impression produced on me by this poor little thing, making its -appearance thus, all of a sudden, in the middle of the family. We had -thought and dreamed of it; I had seen him in my mind's eye, my darling -child, playing with a hoop, pulling my moustache, trying to walk, or -gorging himself with milk in his nurse's arms like a gluttonous little -kitten; but I had never pictured him to myself, inanimate, almost -lifeless, quite tiny, wrinkled, hairless, grinning, and yet, charming, -adorable, and be loved in spite of all-poor, ugly, little thing. It -was a strange impression, and so singular that it is impossible to -understand it, without having experienced it. - -"What luck you have!" said the doctor, holding the child toward me; "it -is a boy." - -"A boy!" - -"And a fine one." - -"Really, a boy!" - -That was a matter of indifference to me now. What was causing me -indescribable emotion was the living proof of paternity, this little -being who was my own. I felt stupefied in presence of the great mystery -of childbirth. My wife was there, fainting, overcame, and the little -living creature, my own flesh, my own blood, was squalling and -gesticulating in the hands of Jacques. I was overwhelmed, like a workman -who had unconsciously produced a masterpiece. I felt myself quite small -in presence of this quivering piece of my own handiwork, and, frankly, -a little bit ashamed of having made it so well almost without troubling -about it. I can not undertake to explain all this, I merely relate my -impressions. - -My mother-in-law held out her apron and the doctor placed the child on -his grandmother's knees, saying: "Come, little savage, try not to be -any worse than your rascal of a father. Now for five minutes of emotion. -Come, Captain, embrace me." - -We did so heartily. The doctor's little black eyes twinkled more -brightly than usual; I saw very well that he was moved. - -"Did it make you feel queer, Captain? I mean the cry? Ah! I know it, it -is like a needle through the heart.... Where is the nurse? Ah! here she -is. No matter, he is a fine boy, your little lancer. Open the door for -the prisoners in the drawing-room." - -I opened the door. Every one was listening on the other side of it. My -father, my two aunts, still holding in their hands, one her rosary and -the other her Voltaire, my own nurse, poor old woman, who had come in a -cab. - -"Well," they exclaimed anxiously, "well?" - -"It is all over, it is a boy; go in, he is there." - -You can not imagine how happy I was to see on all their faces the -reflection of my own emotion. They embraced me and shook hands with me, -and I responded to all these marks of affection without exactly knowing -where they came from. - -"Damn it all!" muttered my father, in my ear, holding me in his arms, -with his stick still in his hand and his hat on his head, "Damn it all!" - -But he could not finish, however brave he might wish to appear; a big -tear was glittering at the tip of his nose. He muttered "Hum!" under his -moustache and finally burst into tears on my shoulder, saying: "I can -not help it." - -And I did likewise--I could not help it either. - -However, everybody was flocking round the grandmamma, who lifted up a -corner of her apron and said: - -"How pretty he is, the darling, how pretty! Nurse, warm the linen, give -me the caps." - -"Smile at your aunty," said my aunt, jangling her rosary above the -baby's head, "smile at aunty." - -"Ask him at the same time to recite a fable," said the doctor. - -Meanwhile my wife was coming to herself; she half opened her eyes and -seemed to be looking for something. - -"Where is he?" she murmured in a faint voice. - -They showed her her mother's apron. - -"A boy, is it not?" - -Taking my hand, she drew me down toward her and said in a whisper, "Are -you satisfied with me? I did my best, dear." - -"Come, no emotion," exclaimed the doctor, "you shall kiss each other -tomorrow. Colonel," he said to my father, who still retained his hat and -stick, "keep them from kissing. No emotion, and every one outside. I am -going to dress the little lancer. Give me the little man, grandmamma. -Come here, little savage. You shall see whether I don't know how to -fasten pins in." - -He took the baby in his two large hands and sat down on a stool before -the fire. - -I watched my boy whom Jacques was turning about like a doll, but with -great skill. He examined him all over, touching and feeling him, and at -each test said with a smile: - -"He is a fine one, he is a fine one." - -Then he rolled him up in his clothes, put a triple cap on his little -bald head, tied a folded ribbon under his chin to prevent his head -falling backward, and then, satisfied with his work, said: - -"You saw how I did it, nurse? Well, you must dress this lancer every -morning in the same way. Nothing but a little sugar and water till -to-morrow. The mother has no fever. Come, all is going on well. - -"Lucky Captain! I am so hungry. Do you know that it is one in the -morning? You haven't got cold partridge or a bit of pie that you don't -know what to do with, have you? It would suit me down to the ground, -with a bottle of something." - -We went both into the dining-room and laid the cloth without any more -ceremony. - -I never in my life ate and drank so much as on that occasion. - -"Come, get off to bed," said the doctor, putting on his coat. "To-morrow -morning you shall have the wet-nurse. No, by the way, I'll call for you, -and we will go and choose her together; it is curious. Be under arms at -half-past eight." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. NEW YEAR'S DAY - -It is barely seven o'clock. A pale ray of daylight is stealing through -the double curtains, and already some one is tapping at the door. I can -hear in the next room from the stifled laughter and the silvery tones of -Baby, who is quivering with impatience, and asking leave to come in. - -"Papa," he cries, "it is Baby, it is Baby come for the New Year." - -"Come in, my darling; come quick, and kiss us." - -The door opens and my boy, his eyes aglow, and his arms raised, rushes -toward the bed. His curls, escaping from the nightcap covering his head, -float on his forehead. His long, loose night-shirt, catching his little -feet, increases his impatience, and causes him to stumble at every step. - -At length he crosses the room, and, holding out his two hands to mine: -"Baby wishes you a Happy New Year," he says, in an earnest voice. - -"Poor little love, with his bare feet! Come, darling, and warm yourself -under the counterpane." - -I lift him toward me, but at this moment my wife, who is asleep, -suddenly wakes. - -"Who is there?" she exclaims, feeling for the bell. "Thieves!" - -"It is we two, dear." - -"Who? Good heavens! how you frightened me! I was dreaming the house was -on fire, and that I heard your voice amid the raging flames. You were -very indiscreet in shouting like that!" - -"Shouting! but you forget, mamma, that it is New Year's Day, the day -of smiles and kisses? Baby was waiting for you to wake up, as well as -myself." - -However, I wrap the little fellow up in the eiderdown quilt and warm his -cold feet in my hands. - -"Mamma, it is New Year's Day," he exclaims. With his arms he draws our -two heads together, puts forward his own and kisses us at haphazard -with his moist lips. I feel his dimpled fists digging into my neck, his -little fingers entangled in my beard. - -My moustache tickles the tip of his nose, and he bursts into a fit of -joyous laughter as he throws his head back. - -His mother, who has recovered from her fright, takes him in her arms and -rings the bell. - -"The year is beginning well, dear," she says, "but we must have a little -daylight." - -"Mamma, naughty children don't have any new toys on New Year's Day, do -they?" - -And as he says this the sly fellow eyes a pile of parcels and packages -heaped up in one corner, visible despite the semidarkness. - -Soon the curtains are drawn aside, and the shutters opened; daylight -floods the room; the fire crackles merrily on the hearth, and two large -parcels, carefully tied up, are placed on the bed. One is for my wife, -and the other for my boy. - -"What is it? What is it?" I have multiplied the knots and tripled the -wrappings, and I gleefully follow their impatient fingers entangled -among the strings. - -My wife gets impatient, smiles, pouts, kisses me, and asks for the -scissors. - -Baby on his side tugs with all his might, biting his lips as he does so, -and ends by asking my help. His look strives to penetrate the wrappers. -All the signs of desire and expectation are stamped on his face. His -hand, hidden under the coverlet, causes the silk to rustle with his -convulsive movements, and his lips quiver as at the approach of some -dainty. - -At length the last paper falls aside. The lid is lifted, and joy breaks -forth. - -"A fur tippet!" - -"A Noah's ark!" - -"To match my muff, dear, kind husband." - -"With a Noah on wheels, dear papa. I do love you so." - -They throw themselves on my neck, four arms are clasped round me at -once. Emotion gets the better of me, and a tear steals into my eye. -There are two in those of my wife, and Baby, losing his head, sobs as he -kisses my hand. - -It is absurd. - -Absurd, I don't know; but delightful, I can answer for it. - -Does not grief, after all, call forth enough tears for us to forgive joy -the solitary one she perchance causes us to shed! - -Life is not so sweet for us to risk ourselves in it singlehanded, and -when the heart is empty the way seems very long. - -It is so pleasant to feel one's self loved, to hear beside one the -cadenced steps of one's fellow-travellers, and to say, "They are here, -our three hearts beat in unison." So pleasant once a year, when the -great clock strikes the first of January, to sit down beside the path, -with hands locked together, and eyes fixed on the unknown dusty road -losing itself in the horizon, and to say, while embracing one another, -"We still love one another, my dear children; you rely on me, and I rely -on you. Let us have confidence, and walk steadfastly." - -This is how I explain that one may weep a little while examining a new -fur tippet and opening a Noah's ark. - -But breakfast time draws near. I have cut myself twice while shaving; -I have stepped on my son's wild beasts in turning round, and I have the -prospect of a dozen duty calls, as my wife terms them, before me; yet I -am delighted. - -We sit down to the breakfast table, which has a more than usually -festive aspect. A faint aroma of truffles perfumes the air, every one is -smiling, and through the glass I see, startling sight! the doorkeeper, -with his own hands, wiping the handrail of the staircase. It is a -glorious day. - -Baby has ranged his elephants, lions, and giraffes round his plate, and -his mother, under pretext of a draught, breakfasts in her tippet. - -"Have you ordered the carriage, dear, for our visits?" I ask. - -"That cushion for Aunt Ursula will take up such a deal of room. It might -be put beside the coachman." - -"Poor aunt." - -"Papa, don't let us go to Aunt Ursula," said Baby; "she pricks so when -she kisses you." - -"Naughty boy.... Think of all we have to get into the carriage. Leon's -rocking-horse, Louise's muff, your father's slippers, Ernestine's quilt, -the bonbons, the work-box. I declare, aunt's cushion must go under the -coachman's feet." - -"Papa, why doesn't the giraffe eat cutlets?" - -"I really don't know, dear." - -"Neither do I, papa." - -An hour later we are ascending the staircase leading to Aunt Ursula's. -My wife counts the steps as she pulls herself up by the hand-rail, and -I carry the famous cushion, the bonbons, and my son, who has insisted on -bringing his giraffe with him. - -Aunt Ursula, who produces the same effect on him as the sight of a -rod would, is waiting us in her icy little drawing-room. Four square -armchairs, hidden beneath yellow covers, stand vacant behind four little -mats. A clock in the shape of a pyramid, surmounted on a sphere, ticks -under a glass case. - -A portrait on the wall, covered with fly-spots, shows a nymph with a -lyre, standing beside a waterfall. This nymph was Aunt Ursula. How she -has altered! - -"My dear aunt, we have come to wish you a Happy New Year." - -"To express our hopes that--" - -"Thank you, nephew, thank you, niece," and she points to two chairs. "I -am sensible of this step on your part; it proves to me that you have not -altogether forgotten the duties imposed upon you by family ties." - -"You are reckoning, my dear aunt, without the affection we feel for you, -and which of itself is enough... Baby, go and kiss your aunt." - -Baby whispers in my ear, "But, papa, I tell you she does prick." - -I place the bonbons on a side-table. - -"You can, nephew, dispense with offering me that little gift; you know -that sweetmeats disagree with me, and, if I were not aware of your -indifference as to the state of my health, I should see in your offering -a veiled sarcasm. But let that pass. Does your father still bear up -against his infirmities courageously?" - -"Thank you, yes." - -"I thought to please you, dear aunt," observes my wife, "by embroidering -for you this cushion, which I beg you to accept." - -"I thank you, child, but I can still hold myself sufficiently upright, -thank God, not to have any need of a cushion. The embroidery is -charming, it is an Oriental design. You might have made a better choice, -knowing that I like things much more simple. It is charming, however, -although this red next to the green here sets one's teeth on edge. Taste -in colors is, however, not given to every one. I have, in return, to -offer you my photograph, which that dear Abbe Miron insisted on my -having taken." - -"How kind you are, and how like you it is! Do you recognize your aunt, -Baby?" - -"Do not think yourself obliged to speak contrary to your opinion. This -photograph does not in any way resemble me, my eyes are much brighter. I -have also a packet of jujubes for your child. He seems to have grown." - -"Baby, go and kiss your aunt." - -"And then we shall go, mamma?" - -"You are very rude, my dear." - -"Let him speak out; at any rate, he is frank. But I see that your -husband is getting impatient, you have other... errands to fulfil; I -will not keep you. Besides, I am going to church to pray for those who -do not pray for themselves." - -From twelve duty calls, subtract one duty call, and eleven remain. Hum! -"Coachman, Rue St. Louis au Marais." - -"Papa, has Aunt Ursula needles in her chin?" - -Let us pass over the eleven duty calls, they are no more agreeable to -write of than to make. - -Toward seven o'clock, heaven be praised, the horses stop before my -father's, where dinner awaits us. Baby claps his hands, and smiles at -old Jeannette, who, at the sound of the wheels, has rushed to the door. -"Here they are," she exclaims, and she carries off Baby to the kitchen, -where my mother, with her sleeves turned up, is giving the finishing -touch to her traditional plum cake. - -My father, on his way to the cellar, lantern in hand, and escorted -by his old servant, Jean, who is carrying the basket, halts. "Why, -children, how late you are! Come to my arms, my dears; this is the day -on which one kisses in good earnest. Jean, hold my lantern a minute." -And as my old father clasps me to his breast, his hand seeks out mine -and grasps it, with a long clasp. Baby, who glides in between our legs, -pulls our coat-tails and holds up his little mouth for a kiss too. - -"But I am keeping you here in the anteroom and you are frozen; go into -the drawing-room, there are a good fire and good friends there." - -They have heard us, the door opens, and a number of arms are held out -to us. Amid handshakings, embracings, good wishes, and kisses, boxes are -opened, bonbons are showered forth, parcels are undone, mirth becomes -deafening, and good humor tumultuous. Baby standing amid his presents -resembles a drunken man surrounded by a treasure, and from time to time -gives a cry of joy on discovering some fresh toy. - -"The little man's fable," exclaims my father, swinging his lantern which -he has taken again from Jean. - -A deep silence ensues, and the poor child, whose debut in the -elocutionary art it is, suddenly loses countenance. He casts down his -eyes, blushes and takes refuge in the arms of his mother, who, stooping -down, whispers, "Come, darling, 'A lamb was quenching'; you know the -wolf and the lamb." - -"Yes, mamma, I know the little lamb that wanted to drink." And in a -contrite voice, his head bent down on his breast, he repeats with a deep -sigh, "'A little lamb was quenching his thirst in a clear stream."' - -We all, with ears on the alert and a smile on our lips, follow his -delightful little jargon. - -Uncle Bertrand, who is rather deaf, has made an ear trumpet of his hand -and drawn his chair up. "Ah! I can follow it," he says. "It is the -fox and the grapes." And as there is a murmur of "Hush," at this -interruption, he adds: "Yes, yes, he recites with intelligence, great -intelligence." - -Success restores confidence to my darling, who finishes his fable with a -burst of laughter. Joy is communicative, and we take our places at table -amid the liveliest mirth. - -"By the way," says my father, "where the deuce is my lantern. I have -forgotten all about the cellar. Jean, take your basket and let us go and -rummage behind the fagots." - -The soup is smoking, and my mother, after having glanced smilingly round -the table, plunges her ladle into the tureen. Give me the family dinner -table at which those we love are seated, at which we may risk resting -our elbows at dessert, and at which at thirty we once more taste the -wine offered at our baptism. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. LETTERS OF A YOUNG MOTHER TO HER FRIEND. - -The little caps are the ones I want, Marie. Be good enough to send me -the pattern of the braces, those of your own invention, you know. Thanks -for your coverlet, it is soft, flexible, warm, and charming, and Baby, -amid its white wool, looks like a rosebud hidden in the snow. I am -becoming poetical, am I not? But what would you have? My poor heart is -overflowing with joy. My son, do you understand that, dear, my own son? -When I heard the sharp cry of the little being whom my mother showed me -lying in her apron, it seemed to me that a burning thrill of love shot -through my veins. My old doctor's bald head was close to me, I caught -hold of it and kissed him thrice. - -"Calm yourself, my dear child," said he. - -"Doctor, be quiet, or I will kiss you again. Give me my baby, my love. -Are you quite sure it is a boy?" - -And in the adjoining drawing-room, where the whole family were waiting, -I could hear amid the sound of kisses, the delightful words, "It is a -boy, a fine boy." - -My poor husband, who for twelve hours had not left me, overcome with -fatigue and emotion, was crying and laughing in one corner of the room. - -"Come, nurse, swaddle him, quick now. No pins, confound it all, strings, -I will have strings. What? Give me the child, you don't understand -anything about it." - -And the good doctor in the twinkling of an eye had dressed my child. - -"He looks a Colonel, your boy. Put him into the cradle with... now be -calm, my dear patient... with a hot-water bottle to his feet. Not too -much fire, especially in the Colonel's room. Now, no more noise, repose, -and every one out of the way." - -And as through the opening of the door which was just ajar, Aunt Ursula -whispered, "Doctor, let me come in; just to press her hand, doctor." - -"Confound it! every one must be off; silence and quiet are absolutely -necessary." They all left. - -"Octave," continued the doctor, "come and kiss your wife now, and make -an end of it. Good little woman, she has been very brave.... Octave, -come and kiss your wife, and be quick about it if you don't want me to -kiss her myself. I will do what I say," he added, threatening to make -good his words. - -Octave, buried in his child's cradle, did not hear. - -"Good, now he is going to suffocate my Colonel for me." - -My husband came at length. He held out his hand which was quivering with -emotion, and I grasped it with all my might. If my heart at that moment -did not break from excess of feeling, it was because God no doubt knew -that I should still have need of it. - -You know, dear Marie, that before a child comes we love each other -as husband and wife, but we love each other on our own account, while -afterward we love each other on his, the dear love, who with his tiny -hand has rivetted the chain forever. God, therefore, allows the heart to -grow and swell. Mine was full; nevertheless, my baby came and took his -place in it. Yet nothing overflowed, and I still feel that there is room -for mother and yourself. You told me, and truly, that this would be -a new life, a life of deep love and delightful devotion. All my past -existence seems trivial and colorless to me, and I perceive that I am -beginning to live. I am as proud as a soldier who has been in battle. -Wife and mother, those words are our epaulettes. Grandmother is the -field-marshal's baton. - -How sweet I shall render the existence of my two loved ones! - -How I shall cherish them! I am wild, I weep, I should like to kiss you. -I am afraid I am too happy. - -My husband is really good. He holds the child with such pleasing -awkwardness, it costs him such efforts to lift this slight burden. When -he brings it to me, wrapped in blankets, he walks with slow and careful -steps. One would think that the ground was going to crumble away beneath -his feet. Then he places the little treasure in my bed, quite close to -me, on a large pillow. We deck Baby; we settle him comfortably, and if -after many attempts we get him to smile, it is an endless joy. Often my -husband and I remain in the presence of this tiny creature, our heads -resting on our hands. We silently follow the hesitating and charming -movements of his little rosy-nailed hand on the silk, and we find in -this so deep a charm that it needs a considerable counter-attraction to -tear us away. - -We have most amusing discussions on the shape of his forehead and the -color of his eyes, which always end in grand projects for his future, -very silly, no doubt, but so fascinating. - -Octave wants him to follow a diplomatic career. He says that he has -the eye of a statesman and that his gestures, though few, are full of -meaning. Poor, dear little ambassador, with only three hairs on your -head! But what dear hairs they are, those threads of gold curling at the -back of his neck, just above the rosy fold where the skin is so fine and -so fresh that kisses nestle there of themselves. - -The whole of this little body has a perfume which intoxicates me and -makes my heart leap. What, dear friend, are the invisible ties which -bind us to our children? Is it an atom of our own soul, a part of our -own life, which animates and vivifies them? There must be something of -the kind, for I can read amid the mists of his little mind. I divine his -wishes, I know when he is cold, I can tell when he is hungry. - -Do you know the most delightful moment? It is when after having taken -his evening meal and gorged himself with milk like a gluttonous little -kitten, he falls asleep with his rosy cheek resting on my arm. His limbs -gently relax, his head sinks down on my breast, his eyes close, and his -half-opened mouth continues to repeat the action of suckling. - -His warm, moist breath brushes the hand that is supporting him. Then I -wrap him up snugly in my turned-up skirt, hide his little feet under -his clothes and watch my darling. I have him there, all to myself, on my -knees. There is not a quiver of his being that escapes me or that does -not vibrate in myself. I feel at the bottom of my heart a mirror that -reflects them all. He is still part of me. Is it not my milk that -nourishes him, my voice that hushes him off to sleep, my hand that -dresses and caresses, encourages and supports him? The feeling that I am -all in all for him further adds a delicious charm of protection to the -delight of having brought him into the world. - -When I think that there are women who pass by such joys without turning -their heads. The fools! - -Yes, the present is delightful and I am drunk with happiness. There is -also the future, far away in the clouds. I often think of it, and I do -not know why I shudder at the approach of a storm. - -Madness! I shall love him so discreetly, I shall render the weight of my -affection so light for him, that why should he wish to separate from -me? Shall I not in time become his friend? Shall I not when a black down -shadows those rosy little lips, when the bird, feeling its wings grown, -seeks to leave the nest, shall I not be able to bring him back by -invisible ties to the arms in which he now is sleeping? Perhaps at that -wretched moment they call a man's youth you will forget me, my little -darling! Other hands than mine perhaps will brush the hair away from -your forehead at twenty. Alas! other lips, pressed burningly where mine -are now pressed, will wipe out with a kiss twenty years of caresses. -Yes, but when you return from this intoxicating and fatiguing journey, -tired and exhausted, you will soon take refuge in the arms that once -nursed you, you will rest your poor, aching head where it rests now, you -will ask me to wipe away your tears and to make you forget the bruises -received on the way, and I shall give you, weeping for joy, the kiss -which at once consoles and fills with hope. - -But I see that I am writing a whole volume, dear Marie. I will not -re-read it or I should never dare to send it to you. What would you -have? I am losing my head a little. I am not yet accustomed to all this -happiness. - - Yours affectionately. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. FOUR YEARS LATER - -Yes, my dear, he is a man and a man for good and all. He has come back -from the country half as big again and as bold as a lion. He climbs on -to the chairs, stops the clocks and sticks his hands in his pockets like -a grown-up person. - -When I see in the morning in the anteroom my baby's little shoes -standing proudly beside the paternal boots, I experience, despite -myself, a return toward that past which is yet so near. Yesterday -swaddling clothes, today boots, tomorrow spurs. Ah! how the happy days -fly by. Already four years old. I can scarcely carry him, even supposing -he allowed me to, for his manly dignity is ticklish. He passes half his -life armed for war, his pistols, his guns, his whips and his swords are -all over the place. There is a healthy frankness about all his doings -that charms me. - -Do you imagine from this that my demon no longer has any good in him? At -times he is an angel and freely returns the caresses I bestow upon him. -In the evening after dinner he gets down into my armchair, takes my head -in his hands and arranges my hair in his own way. His fresh little mouth -travels all over my face. He imprints big sounding kisses on the back -of my neck, which makes me shudder all over. We have endless talks -together. "Why's" come in showers, and all these "why's" require real -answers; for the intelligence of children is above all things logical. I -will only give one of his sayings as a proof. - -His grandmother is rather unwell, and every night he tacks on to his -prayer these simple words, "Please God make Granny well, because I love -her so." But for greater certainty he has added on his own account, "You -know, God, Granny who lives in the Rue Saint-Louis, on the first floor." -He says all this with an expression of simple confidence and such comic -seriousness, the little love. You understand, it is to spare God the -trouble of looking for the address. - -I leave you; I hear him cough. I do not know whether he has caught cold, -but I think he has been looking rather depressed since the morning. Do -not laugh at me, I am not otherwise uneasy. - - Yours most affectionately. - -Yesterday there was a consultation. On leaving the house my old doctor's -eyes were moist; he strove to hide it, but I saw a tear. My child must -be very ill then? The thought is dreadful, dear. They seek to reassure -me, but I tremble. - -The night has not brought any improvement. Still this fever. If you -could see the state of the pretty little body we used to admire so. -I will not think of what God may have in store for me. Ice has been -ordered to be put to his head. His hair had to be cut off. Poor fair -little curls that used to float in the wind as he ran after his hoop. It -is terrible. I have dreadful forebodings. - -My child, my poor child! He is so weak that not a word comes now from -his pale parched lips. His large eyes that still shine in the depths -of their sockets, smile at me from time to time, but this smile is so -gentle, so faint, that it resembles a farewell. A farewell! But what -would become of me? - -This morning, thinking he was asleep, I could not restrain a sob. His -lips opened, and he said, but in a whisper so low that I had to put my -ear close down to catch it: "You do love me then, mamma?" - -Do I love him? I should die. - - NICE. - -They have brought me here and I feel no better for it. Every day my -weakness increases. I still spit blood. Besides, what do they seek to -cure me of? Yours as ever. - -If I should never return to Paris, you will find in my wardrobe his last -toys; the traces of his little fingers are still visible on them. To the -left is the branch of the blessed box that used to hang at his bedside. -Let your hands alone touch all this. Burn these dear relics, this poor -evidence of shattered happiness. I can still see... Sobs are choking me. - -Farewell, dear friend. What would you? I built too high on too unstable -a soil. I loved one object too well. - -Yours from my heart. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. OLD RECOLLECTIONS - -Cover yourselves with fine green leaves, tall trees casting your -peaceful shade. Steal through the branches, bright sunlight, and you, -studious promenaders, contemplative idlers, mammas in bright toilettes, -gossiping nurses, noisy children, and hungry babies, take possession of -your kingdom; these long walks belong to you. - -It is Sunday. Joy and festivity. The gaufre seller decks his shop and -lights his stove. The white cloth is spread on the table and piles of -golden cakes attract the customer. - -The woman who lets out chairs has put on her apron with its big pockets -for sous. The park keeper, my dear little children, has curled his -moustache, polished up his harmless sword and put on his best uniform. -See how bright and attractive the marionette theatre looks in the -sunshine, under its striped covering. - -Sunday requires all this in its honor. - -Unhappy are those to whom the tall trees of Luxembourg gardens do not -recall one of those recollections which cling to the heart like its -first perfume to a vase. - -I was a General, under those trees, a General with a plume like a -mourning coach-horse, and armed to the teeth. I held command from the -hut of the newspaper vendor to the kiosk of the gaufre seller. No false -modesty, my authority extended to the basin of the fountain, although -the great white swans rather alarmed me. Ambushes behind the tree -trunks, advanced posts behind the nursemaids, surprises, fights with -cold steel; attacks by skirmishers, dust, encounters, carnage and no -bloodshed. After which our mammas wiped our foreheads, rearranged our -dishevelled hair, and tore us away from the battle, of which we dreamed -all night. - -Now, as I pass through the garden with its army of children and nurses, -leaning on my stick with halting step, how I regret my General's cocked -hat, my paper plume, my wooden sword and my pistol. My pistol that would -snap caps and was the cause of my rapid promotion. - -Disport yourselves, little folks; gossip, plump nurses, as you scold -your soldiers. Embroider peaceably, young mothers, making from time -to time a little game of your neighbors among yourselves; and you, -reflective idlers, look at that charming picture-babies making a garden. - -Playing in the sand, a game as old as the world and always amusing. -Hillocks built up in a line with little bits of wood stuck into them, -represent gardens in the walks of which baby gravely places his little -uncertain feet. What would he not give, dear little man, to be able -to complete his work by creating a pond in his park, a pond, a gutter, -three drops of water? - -Further on the sand is damper, and in the mountain the little fingers -pierce a tunnel. A gigantic work which the boot of a passer-by will -soon destroy. What passer-by respects a baby's mountain? Hence the young -rascal avenges himself. See that gentleman in the brown frockcoat, who -is reading the 'Revue des Deux Mondes' on the bench; our workers have -piled up hillocks of sand and dust around him, the skirts of his coat -have already lost their color. - -But let this equipage noisily dashing along go by. Four horses, two bits -of string, and a fifth horse who is the driver. That is all, and yet one -fancies one's self in a postchaise. How many places has one not visited -by nightfall? - -There are drivers who prefer to be horses, there are horses who would -rather be drivers; first symptoms of ambition. - -And the solitary baby who slowly draws his omnibus round the gaufre -seller, eyeing his shop! An indefatigable consumer, but a poor -paymaster. - -Do you see down there under the plane-trees that group of nurses, a herd -of Burgundian milch kine, and at their feet, rolling on a carpet, all -those little rosy cheeked philosophers who only ask God for a little -sunshine, pure milk, and quiet, in order to be happy. Frequently an -accident disturbs the delightful calm. The Burgundian who mistrusted -matters darts forward. It is too late. - -"The course of a river is not to be checked," says Giboyer. - -Sometimes the disaster is still more serious, and one repairs it as -one can; but the philosopher who loves these disasters is indignant and -squalls, swearing to himself to begin again. - -Those little folk are delightful; we love children, but this affection -for the species in general becomes yet more sweet when it is no longer a -question of a baby, but of one's own baby. - -Bachelors must not read what follows; I wish to speak to the family -circle. Between those of a trade there is a better understanding. - -I am a father, my dear madame, and have been of course the rejoicing -papa of a matchless child. From beneath his cap there escaped a fair and -curly tress that was our delight, and when I touched his white neck with -my finger he broke into a laugh and showed me his little white pearls, -as he clasped my head in his two chubby arms. - -His first tooth was an event. We went into the light the better to see. -The grandparents looked through their glasses at the little white spot, -and I, with outstretched neck, demonstrated, explained and proved. And -all at once I ran off to the cellar to seek out in the right corner a -bottle of the best. - -My son's first tooth. We spoke of his career during dinner, and at -dessert grand-mamma gave us a song. - -After this tooth came others, and with them tears and pain, but then -when they were all there how proudly he bit into his slice of bread, how -vigorously he attacked his chop in order to eat "like papa." - -"Like papa," do you remember how these two words warm the heart, and how -many transgressions they cause to be forgiven. - -My great happiness,--is it yours too?--was to be present at my darling's -awakening. I knew the time. I would gently draw aside the curtains of -his cradle and watch him as I waited. - -I usually found him stretched diagonally, lost in the chaos of sheets -and blankets, his legs in the air, his arms crossed above his head. -Often his plump little hand still clutched the toy that had helped to -send him off to sleep, and through his parted lips came the regular -murmur of his soft breathing. The warmth of his sleep had given his -cheeks the tint of a well-ripened peach. His skin was warm, and -the perspiration of the night glittered on his forehead in little -imperceptible pearls. - -Soon his hand would make a movement; his foot pushed away the blanket, -his whole body stirred, he rubbed an eye, stretched out his arms, and -then his look from under his scarcely raised eyelids would rest on me. - -He would smile at me, murmuring softly, so softly that I would hold my -breath to seize all the shades of his music. - -"Dood mornin', papa." - -"Good morning, my little man; have you slept well?" - -We held out our arms to each other and embraced like old friends. - -Then the talking would begin. He chatted as the lark would sing to the -rising sun. Endless stories. - -He would tell me his dreams, asking after each sentence for "his nice, -warm bread and milk, with plenty of sugar." And when his breakfast came -up, what an outburst of laughter, what joy as he drew himself up to -reach it; then his eye would glitter with a tear in the corner, and the -chatter begin again. - -At other times he would come and surprise me in bed. I would pretend -to be asleep, and he would pull my beard and shout in my ear. I feigned -great alarm and threatened to be avenged. From this arose fights among -the counterpanes, entrenchments behind the pillows. In sign of victory -I would tickle him, and then he shuddered, giving vent to the frank and -involuntary outburst of laughter of happy childhood. He buried his head -between his two shoulders like a tortoise withdrawing into his shell, -and threatened me with his plump rosy foot. The skin of his heel was so -delicate that a young girl's cheek would have been proud of it. How many -kisses I would cover those dear little feet with when I warmed his long -nightdress before the fire. - -I had been forbidden to undress him, because it had been found that I -entangled the knots instead of undoing them. - -All this was charming, but when it was necessary to act rigorously -and check the romping that was going too far, he would slowly drop his -eyelids, while with dilated nostrils and trembling lips he tried to keep -back the big tear glittering beneath his eyelid. - -What courage was not necessary in order to refrain from calming with -a kiss the storm on the point of bursting, from consoling the little -swollen heart, from drying the tear that was overflowing and about to -become a flood. - -A child's expression is then so touching, there is so much grief in a -warm tear slowly falling, in a little contracted face, a little heaving -breast. - -All this is long past. Yet years have gone by without effacing these -loved recollections; and now that my baby is thirty years old and has a -heavy moustache, when he holds out his large hand and says in his bass -voice, "Good morning, father," it still seems to me that an echo repeats -afar off the dear words of old, "Dood mornin', papa." - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. THE LITTLE BOOTS - -In the morning when I left my room, I saw placed in line before the door -his boots and mine. His were little laced-up boots rather out of shape, -and dulled by the rough usage to which he subjects them. The sole of the -left boot was worn thin, and a little hole was threatening at the toe -of the right. The laces, worn and slack, hung to the right and left. -Swellings in the leather marked the places of his toes, and the -accustomed movements of his little foot had left their traces in the -shape of creases, slight or deep. - -Why have I remembered all this? I really do not know, but it seems to -me that I can still see the boots of the dear little one placed there -on the mat beside my own, two grains of sand by two paving stones, a tom -tit beside an elephant. They were his every-day boots, his playfellows, -those with which he ascended sand hills and explored puddles. They were -devoted to him, and shared his existence so closely that something of -himself was met with again in them. I should have recognized them among -a thousand; they had an especial physiognomy about them; it seemed to -me that an invisible tie attached them to him, and I could not look at -their undecided shape, their comic and charming grace, without recalling -their little master, and acknowledging to myself that they resembled -him. - -Everything belonging to a baby becomes a bit babyish itself, and assumes -that expression of unstudied and simple grace peculiar to a child. - -Beside these laughing, gay, good-humored little boots, only asking -leave to run about the country, my own seemed monstrous, heavy, coarse, -ridiculous, with their heels. From their heavy and disabused air one -felt that for them life was a grave matter, its journeys long, and the -burden borne quite a serious one. - -The contrast was striking, and the lesson deep. I would softly approach -these little boots in order not to wake the little man who was still -asleep in the adjoining room; I felt them, I turned them over, I looked -at them on all sides, and I found a delightful smile rise to my lips. -Never did the old violet-scented glove that lay for so long in the -inmost recess of my drawer procure me so sweet an emotion. - -Paternal love is no trifle; it has its follies and weaknesses, it is -puerile and sublime, it can neither be analyzed nor explained, it is -simply felt, and I yielded myself to it with delight. - -Let the papa without weakness cast the first stone at me; the mammas -will avenge me. - -Remember that this little laced boot, with a hole in the toe, reminded -me of his plump little foot, and that a thousand recollections were -connected with that dear trifle. - -I recalled him, dear child, as when I cut his toe nails, wriggling -about, pulling at my beard, and laughing in spite of himself, for he was -ticklish. - -I recalled him as when of an evening in front of a good fire, I pulled -off his little socks. What a treat. - -I would say "one, two." And he, clad in his long nightgown, his hands -lost in the sleeves, would wait with glittering eyes, and ready to break -into a fit of laughter for the "three." - -At last after a thousand delays, a thousand little teasings that excited -his impatience and allowed me to snatch five or six kisses, I said -"three." - -The sock flew away. Then there was a wild joy; he would throw himself -back on my arm, waving his bare legs in the air. From his open mouth, in -which two rows of shining little pearls could be distinguished, welled -forth a burst of ringing laughter. - -His mother, who, however, laughed too, would say the next minute, "Come, -baby, come, my little angel, you will get cold... But leave off... Will -you have done, you little demon?" - -She wanted to scold, but she could not be serious at the sight of his -fair-haired head, and flushed, smiling, happy face, thrown back on my -knee. - -She would look at me, and say: - -"He is unbearable. Good gracious! what a child." - -But I understood that this meant: - -"Look how handsome, sturdy and healthy he is, our baby, our little man, -our son." - -And indeed he was adorable; at least I thought so. - -I had the wisdom--I can say it now that my hair is white--not to let one -of those happy moments pass without amply profiting by it, and really I -did well. Pity the fathers who do not know how to be papas as often as -possible, who do not know how to roll on the carpet, play at being a -horse, pretend to be the great wolf, undress their baby, imitate the -barking of the dog, and the roar of the lion, bite whole mouthfuls -without hurting, and hide behind armchairs so as to let themselves be -seen. - -Pity sincerely these unfortunates. It is not only pleasant child's play -that they neglect, but true pleasure, delightful enjoyment, the scraps -of that happiness which is greatly calumniated and accused of not -existing because we expect it to fall from heaven in a solid mass when -it lies at our feet in fine powder. Let us pick up the fragments, and -not grumble too much; every day brings us with its bread its ration of -happiness. - -Let us walk slowly and look down on the ground, searching around us -and seeking in the corners; it is there that Providence has its -hiding-places. - -I have always laughed at those people who rush through life at full -speed, with dilated nostrils, uneasy eyes, and glance rivetted on the -horizon. It seems as though the present scorched their feet, and when -you say to them, "Stop a moment, alight, take a glass of this good old -wine, let us chat a little, laugh a little, kiss your child." - -"Impossible," they reply; "I am expected over there. There I shall -converse, there I shall drink delicious wine, there I shall give -expansion to paternal love, there I shall be happy!" - -And when they do get "there," breathless and tired out, and claim the -price of their fatigue, the present, laughing behind its spectacles, -says, "Monsieur, the bank is closed." - -The future promises, it is the present that pays, and one should have a -good understanding with the one that keeps the keys of the safe. - -Why fancy that you are a dupe of Providence? - -Do you think that Providence has the time to serve up to each of you -perfect happiness, already dressed on a golden plate, and to play music -during your repast into the bargain? Yet that is what a great many -people would like. - -We must be reasonable, tuck up our sleeves and look after our cooking -ourselves, and not insist that heaven should put itself out of the way -to skim our soup. - -I used to muse on all this of an evening when my baby was in my arms, -and his moist, regular breathing fanned my hand. I thought of the happy -moments he had already given me, and was grateful to him for them. - -"How easy it is," I said to myself, "to be happy, and what a singular -fancy that is of going as far as China in quest of amusement." - -My wife was of my opinion, and we would sit for hours by the fire -talking of what we felt. - -"You, do you see, dear? love otherwise than I do," she often said to me. -"Papas calculate more. Their love requires a return. They do not really -love their child till the day on which their self-esteem as its father -is flattered. There is something of ownership in it. You can analyze -paternal love, discover its causes, say 'I love my child because he is -so and so, or so and so.' With the mother such analysis is impossible, -she does not love her child because he is handsome or ugly, because he -does or does not resemble her, has or has not her tastes. She loves -him because she can not help it, it is a necessity. Maternal love is -an innate sentiment in woman. Paternal love is, in man, the result of -circumstances. In her love is an instinct, in him a calculation, of -which, it is true, he is unconscious, but, in short, it is the outcome -of several other feelings." - -"That is all very fine; go on," I said. "We have neither heart nor -bowels, we are fearful savages. What you say is monstrous." And I -stirred the logs furiously with the tongs. - -Yet my wife was right, I acknowledged to myself. When a child comes into -the world the affection of the father is not to be compared to that of -the mother. With her it is love already. It seems that she has known him -for a long time, her pretty darling. At his first cry it might be said -that she recognized him. She seems to say, "It is he." She takes him -without the slightest embarrassment, her movements are natural, she -shows no awkwardness, and in her two twining arms the baby finds a place -to fit him, and falls asleep contentedly in the nest created for him. -It would be thought that woman serves a mysterious apprenticeship to -maternity. Man, on the other hand, is greatly troubled by the birth of -a child. The first wail of the little creature stirs him, but in this -emotion there is more astonishment than love. His affection is not yet -born. His heart requires to reflect and to become accustomed to these -fondnesses so new to him. - -There is an apprenticeship to be served to the business of a father. -There is none to that of a mother. - -If the father is clumsy morally in his love for his firstborn, it must -be acknowledged that he is so physically in the manifestation of his -fondness. - -It is only tremblingly, and with contortions and efforts, that he lifts -the slight burden. He is afraid of smashing the youngster, who knows -this, and thence bawls with all the force of his lungs. He expands more -strength, poor man, in lifting up his child than he would in bursting -a door open. If he kisses him, his beard pricks him; if he touches -him, his big fingers cause him some disaster. He has the air of a bear -threading a needle. - -And yet it must be won, the affection of this poor father, who, at -the outset, meets nothing but misadventures; he must be captivated, -captured, made to have a taste for the business, and not be left too -long to play the part of a recruit. - -Nature has provided for it, and the father rises to the rank of corporal -the day the baby lisps his first syllables. - -It is very sweet, the first lisping utterance of a child, and admirably -chosen to move--the "pa-pa" the little creature first murmurs. It is -strange that the first word of a child should express precisely the -deepest and tenderest sentiment of all? - -Is it not touching to see that the little creature finds of himself the -word that is sure to touch him of whom he stands most in need; the word -that means, "I am yours, love me, give me a place in your heart, open -your arms to me; you see I do not know much as yet, I have only just -arrived, but, already, I think of you, I am one of the family, I shall -eat at your table, and bear your name, pa-pa, pa-pa." - -He has discovered at once the most delicate of flatteries, the sweetest -of caresses. He enters on life by a master stroke. - -Ah! the dear little love! "Pa-pa, pa-pa," I still hear his faint, -hesitating voice, I can still see his two coral lips open and close. -We were all in a circle around him, kneeling down to be on a level with -him. They kept saying to him, "Say it again, dear, say it again. Where -is papa?" And he, amused by all these people about him, stretched out -his arms, and turned his eyes toward me. - -I kissed him heartily, and felt that two big tears hindered me from -speaking. - -From that moment I was a papa in earnest. I was christened. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. BABIES AND PAPAS - -When the baby reaches three or four years of age, when his sex shows -itself in his actions, his tastes and his eyes, when he smashes his -wooden horses, cuts open his drums, blows trumpets, breaks the castors -off the furniture, and evinces a decided hostility to crockery; in a -word, when he is a man, it is then that the affection of a father for -his son becomes love. He feels himself invaded by a need of a special -fondness, of which the sweetest recollections of his past life can give -no idea. A deep sentiment envelopes his heart, the countless roots of -which sink into it in all directions. Defects or qualities penetrate -and feed on this sentiment. Thus, we find in paternal love all the -weaknesses and all the greatnesses of humanity. Vanity, abnegation, -pride, and disinterestedness are united together, and man in his -entirety appears in the papa. - -It is on the day which the child becomes a mirror in which you recognize -your features, that the heart is moved and awakens. Existence becomes -duplicated, you are no longer one, but one and a half; you feel your -importance increase, and, in the future of the little creature who -belongs to you, you reconstruct your own past; you resuscitate, and are -born again in him. You say to yourself: "I will spare him such and such -a vexation which I had to suffer, I will clear from his path such and -such a stone over which I stumbled, I will make him happy, and he -shall owe all to me; he shall be, thanks to me, full of talents and -attractions." You give him, in advance, all that you did not get -yourself, and in his future arrange laurels for a little crown for your -own brows. - -Human weakness, no doubt; but what matter, provided the sentiment that -gives birth to this weakness is the strongest and purest of all? What -matter if a limpid stream springs up between two paving stones? Are -we to be blamed for being generous out of egotism, and for devoting -ourselves to others for reasons of personal enjoyment? - -Thus, in the father, vanity is the leading string. Say to any father: -"Good heavens! how like you he is!" The poor man may hesitate at saying -yes, but I defy him not to smile. He will say, "Perhaps.... Do you think -so?... Well, perhaps so, side face." - -And do not you be mistaken; if he does so, it is that you may reply in -astonishment: "Why, the child is your very image." - -He is pleased, and that is easily explained; for is not this likeness -a visible tie between him and his work? Is it not his signature, his -trade-mark, his title-deed, and, as it were, the sanction of his rights? - -To this physical resemblance there soon succeeds a moral likeness, -charming in quite another way. You are moved to tears when you recognize -the first efforts of this little intelligence to grasp your ideas. -Without check or examination it accepts and feeds on them. By degrees -the child shares your tastes, your habits, your ways. He assumes a deep -voice to be like papa, asks for your braces, sighs before your boots, -and sits down with admiration on your hat. He protects his mamma when he -goes out with her, and scolds the dog, although he is very much afraid -of him; all to be like papa. Have you caught him at meals with his large -observant eyes fixed on you, studying your face with open mouth -and spoon in hand, and imitating his model with an expression of -astonishment and respect. Listen to his long gossips, wandering as his -little brain; does he not say: - -"When I am big like papa I shall have a moustache and a stick like him, -and I shall not be afraid in the dark, because it is silly to be afraid -in the dark when you are big, and I shall say 'damn it,' for I shall -then be grown up." - -"Baby, what did you say, sir?" - -"I said just as papa does." - -What would you? He is a faithful mirror. You are for him an ideal, -a model, the type of all that is great and strong, handsome and -intelligent. - -Often he makes mistakes, the little dear, but his error is all the more -delicious in its sincerity, and you feel all the more unworthy of such -frank admiration. You console yourself for your own imperfections in -reflecting that he is not conscious of them. - -The defects of children are almost always harrowed from their father; -they are the consequences of a too literal copy. Provide, then, against -them. Yes, no doubt, but I ask you what strength of mind is not needed -by a poor man to undeceive his baby, to destroy, with a word, his -innocent confidence, by saying to him: "My child, I am not perfect, and -I have faults to be avoided?" - -This species of devotion on the part of the baby for his father reminds -me of the charming remark of one of my little friends. Crossing the -road, the little fellow caught sight of a policeman. He examined him -with respect, and then turning to me, after a moment's reflection, said, -with an air of conviction: "Papa is stronger than all the policemen, -isn't he?" - -If I had answered "No," our intimacy would have been broken off short. - -Was it not charming? One can truly say, "Like baby, like papa." Our life -is the threshold of his. It is with our eyes that he has first seen. - -Profit, young fathers, by the first moments of candor on the part of -your dear baby, seek to enter his heart when this little heart opens, -and establish yourself in it so thoroughly, that at the moment when the -child is able to judge you, he will love you too well to be severe or to -cease loving. Win his, affection, it is worth the trouble. - -To be loved all your life by a being you love--that is the problem to -be solved, and toward the solution of which all your efforts should be -directed. To make yourself loved, is to store up treasures of happiness -for the winter. Each year will take away a scrap of your life, contract -the circle of interests and pleasures in which you live; your mind by -degrees will lose its vigor, and ask for rest, and as you live less -and less by the mind, you will live more and more by the heart. The -affection of others which was only a pleasant whet will become a -necessary food, and whatever you may have been, statesmen or artists, -soldiers or bankers, when your heads are white, you will no longer be -anything but fathers. - -But filial love is not born all at once, nor is it necessary it should -be. The voice of nature is a voice rather poetical than truthful. The -affection of children is earned and deserved; it is a consequence, not -a cause, and gratitude is its commencement. At any cost, therefore, your -baby must be made grateful. Do not reckon that he will be grateful to -you for your solicitude, your dreams for his future, the cost of his -nursing, and the splendid dowry that you are amassing for him; such -gratitude would require from his little brain too complicated a -calculation, besides social ideas as yet unknown to him. He will not -be thankful to you for the extreme fondness you have for him; do not be -astonished at it, and do not cry out at his ingratitude. You must first -make him understand your affection; he must appreciate and judge it -before responding to it; he must know his notes before he can play -tunes. - -The little man's gratitude will at first be nothing but a simple, -egotistical and natural calculation. If you have made him laugh, if you -have amused him, he will want you to begin again, he will hold out his -little arms to you, crying: "Do it again." And the recollection of the -pleasure you have given him becoming impressed upon his mind, he will -soon say to himself: "No one amuses me so well as papa; it is he who -tosses me into the air, plays at hide-and-seek with me and tells me -tales." So, by degrees, gratitude will be born in him, as thanks spring -to the lips of him who is made happy. - -Therefore, learn the art of amusing your child, imitate the crowing -of the cock, and gambol on the carpet, answer his thousand impossible -questions, which are the echo of his endless dreams, and let yourself be -pulled by the beard to imitate a horse. All this is kindness, but also -cleverness, and good King Henry IV did not belie his skilful policy by -walking on all fours on his carpet with his children on his back. - -In this way, no doubt, your paternal authority will lose something of -its austere prestige, but will gain the deep and lasting influence that -affection gives. Your baby will fear you less but will love you more. -Where is the harm. - -Do not be afraid of anything; become his comrade, in order to have the -right of remaining his friend. Hide your paternal superiority as the -commissary of police does his sash. Ask with kindness for that which you -might rightly insist upon having, and await everything from his heart -if you have known how to touch it. Carefully avoid such ugly words as -discipline, passive obedience and command; let his submission be -gentle to him, and his obedience resemble kindness. Renounce the stupid -pleasure of imposing your fancies upon him, and of giving orders to -prove your infallibility. - -Children have a keenness of judgment, and a delicacy of impression which -would not be imagined, unless one has studied them. Justice and equity -are easily born in their minds, for they possess, above all things, -positive logic. Profit by all this. There are unjust and harsh words -which remain graven on a child's heart, and which he remembers all his -life. Reflect that, in your baby, there is a man whose affection will -cheer your old age; therefore respect him so that he may respect you; -and be sure that there is not a single seed sown in this little heart -which will not sooner or later bear fruit. - -But there are, you will say, unmanageable children, rebels from the -cradle. Are you sure that the first word they heard in their lives has -not been the cause of their evil propensities? Where there has been -rebellion, there has been clumsy pressure; for I will not believe in -natural vice. Among evil instincts there is always a good one, of which -an arm can be made to combat the others. This requires, I know, extreme -kindness, perfect tact, and unlimited confidence, but the reward is -sweet. I think, therefore, in conclusion, that a father's first kiss, -his first look, his first caresses, have an immense influence on -a child's life. To love is a great deal. To know how to love is -everything. - -Even were one not a father, it is impossible to pass by the dear little -ones without feeling touched, and without loving them. Muddy and ragged, -or carefully decked out; running in the roadway and rolling in the dust, -or playing at skipping rope in the gardens of the Tuileries; dabbling -among the ducklings, or building hills of sand beside well-dressed -mammas--babies are charming. In both classes there is the same grace, -the same unembarrassed movements, the same comical seriousness, the same -carelessness as to the effect created, in short, the same charm; the -charm that is called childhood, which one can not understand without -loving--which one finds just the same throughout nature, from the -opening flower and the dawning day to the child entering upon life. - -A baby is not an imperfect being, an unfinished sketch--he is a man. -Watch him closely, follow every one of his movements; they will reveal -to you a logical sequence of ideas, a marvellous power of imagination, -such as will not again be found at any period of life. There is more -real poetry in the brain of these dear loves than in twenty epics. They -are surprised and unskilled, no doubt; but nothing equals the vigor of -these minds, unexperienced, fresh, simple, sensible of the slightest -impressions, which make their way through the midst of the unknown. - -What immense labor is gone through by them in a few months! To notice -noises, classify them, understand that some of these sounds are words, -and that these words are thoughts; to find out of themselves alone the -meaning of everything, and distinguish the true from the false, the real -from the imaginary; to correct, by observation, the errors of their too -ardent imagination; to unravel a chaos, and during this gigantic task to -render the tongue supple and strengthen the staggering little legs, in -short, to become a man. If ever there was a curious and touching sight -it is that of this little creature setting out upon the conquest of -the world. As yet he knows neither doubt nor fear, and opens his heart -fully. There is something of Don Quixote about a baby. He is as comic as -the Knight, but he has also a sublime side. - -Do not laugh too much at the hesitations, the countless gropings, the -preposterous follies of this virgin mind, which a butterfly lifts to -the clouds, to which grains of sand are mountains, which understands the -twittering of birds, ascribes thoughts to flowers, and souls to dolls, -which believes in far-off realms, where the trees are sugar, the fields -chocolate, and the rivers syrup, for which Punch and Mother Hubbard are -real and powerful individuals, a mind which peoples silence and vivifies -night. Do not laugh at his love; his life is a dream, and his mistakes -poetry. - -This touching poetry which you find in the infancy of man you also find -in the infancy of nations. It is the same. In both cases there is the -same necessity of idealization, the same tendency to personify the -unknown. And it may be said that between Punch and Jupiter, Mother -Hubbard and Venus, there is only a hair's breadth. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. HIS FIRST BREECHES - -The great desire in a child is to become a man. But the first symptom -of virility, the first serious step taken in life, is marked by the -assumption of breeches. - -This first breeching is an event that papa desires and mamma dreads. It -seems to the mother that it is the beginning of her being forsaken. -She looks with tearful eyes at the petticoat laid aside for ever, and -murmurs to herself, "Infancy is over then? My part will soon become a -small one. He will have fresh tastes, new wishes; he is no longer only -myself, his personality is asserting itself; he is some ones boy." - -The father, on the contrary, is delighted. He laughs in his moustache to -see the little arching calves peeping out beneath the trousers; he feels -the little body, the outline of which can be clearly made out under -the new garment, and says to himself; "How well he is put together, the -rascal. He will have broad shoulders and strong loins like myself. How -firmly his little feet tread the ground." Papa would like to see him in -jackboots; for a trifle he would buy him spurs. He begins to see himself -in this little one sprung from him; he looks at him in a fresh light, -and, for the first time, he finds a great charm in calling him "my boy." - -As to the baby, he is intoxicated, proud, triumphant, although somewhat -embarrassed as to his arms and legs, and, be it said, without any wish -to offend him, greatly resembling those little poodles we see freshly -shaven on the approach of summer. What greatly disturbed the poor little -fellow is past. How many men of position are there who do not experience -similar inconvenience. He knows very well that breeches, like nobility, -render certain things incumbent on their possessor, that he must now -assume new ways, new gestures, a new tone of voice; he begins to scan -out of the corner of his eye the movements of his papa, who is by no -means ill pleased at this: he clumsily essays a masculine gesture or -two; and this struggle between his past and his present gives him for -some time the most comical air in the world. His petticoats haunt him, -and really he is angry that it is so. - -Dear first pair of breeches! I love you, because you are a faithful -friend, and I encounter at every step in life you and your train of -sweet sensations. Are you not the living image of the latest illusion -caressed by our vanity? You, young officer, who still measure your -moustaches in the glass, and who have just assumed for the first -time the epaulette and the gold belt, how did you feel when you went -downstairs and heard the scabbard of your sabre go clink-clank on the -steps, when with your cap on one side and your arm akimbo you found -yourself in the street, and, an irresistible impulse urging you on, you -gazed at your figure reflected in the chemist's bottles? Will you -dare to say that you did not halt before those bottles? First pair of -breeches, lieutenant. - -You will find them again, these breeches, when you are promoted to be -Captain and are decorated. And later on, when, an old veteran with a -gray moustache, you take a fair companion to rejuvenate you, you will -again put them on; but this time the dear creature will help you to wear -them. - -And the day when you will no longer have anything more to do with them, -alas! that day you will be very low, for one's whole life is wrapped up -in this precious garment. Existence is nothing more than putting on -our first pair of breeches, taking them off, putting them on again, and -dying with eyes fixed on them. - -Is it the truth that most of our joys have no more serious origin than -those of children? Are we then so simple? Ah! yes, my dear sir, we are -simple to this degree, that we do not think we are. We never quite get -rid of our swaddling clothes; do you see, there is always a little bit -sticking out? There is a baby in every one of us, or, rather, we are -only babies grown big. - -See the young barrister walking up and down the lobby of the courts. -He is freshly shaven: in the folds of his new gown he hides a pile of -documents, and on his head, in which a world of thought is stirring, -is a fine advocate's coif, which he bought yesterday, and which this -morning he coquettishly crushed in with a blow from his fist before -putting it on. This young fellow is happy; amid the general din he can -distinguish the echo of his own footsteps, and the ring of his bootheels -sounds to him like the great bell of Notre Dame. In a few minutes he -will find an excuse for descending the great staircase, and crossing the -courtyard in costume. You may be sure that he will not disrobe except -to go to dinner. What joy in these five yards of black stuff; what -happiness in this ugly bit of cloth stretched over stiff cardboard! - -First pair of breeches--I think I recognize you. - -And you, Madame, with what happiness do you renew each season the -enjoyment caused by new clothes? Do not say, I beg of you, that such -enjoyments are secondary ones, for their influence is positive upon -your nature and your character. Why, I ask you, did you find so much -captivating logic, so much persuasive eloquence, in the sermon of Father -Paul? Why did you weep on quitting the church, and embrace your husband -as soon as you got home? You know better than I do, Madame, that it was -because on that day you had put on for the first time that little yellow -bonnet, which is a gem, I acknowledge, and which makes you look twice -as pretty. These impressions can scarcely be explained, but they are -invincible. There may be a trifle of childishness in it all, you will -admit, but it is a childishness that can not be got rid of. - -As a proof of it, the other day, going to St. Thomas's to hear Father -Nicholas, who is one of our shining lights, you experienced totally -different sentiments; a general feeling of discontent and doubt and -nervous irritability at every sentence of the preacher. Your soul did -not soar heavenward with the same unreserved confidence; you left St. -Thomas's with your head hot and your feet cold; and you so far forgot -yourself as to say, as you got into your carriage, that Father Nicholas -was a Gallican devoid of eloquence. Your coachman heard it. And, -finally, on reaching home you thought your drawing-room too small and -your husband growing too fat. Why, I again ask you, this string of -vexatious impressions? If you remember rightly, dear Madame, you wore -for the first time the day before yesterday that horrible little violet -bonnet, which is such a disgusting failure. First pair of breeches, dear -Madame. - -Would you like a final example? Observe your husband. Yesterday he went -out in a bad temper--he had breakfasted badly--and lo! in the evening, -at a quarter to seven, he came home from the Chamber joyful and -well-pleased, a smile on his lips, and good-humor in his eye. He kissed -you on the forehead with a certain unconstraint, threw a number of -pamphlets and papers with an easy gesture on the sidetable, sat down to -table, found the soup delicious, and ate joyously. "What is the matter -with my husband?" you asked yourself.... I will explain. Your husband -spoke yesterday for the first time in the building, you know. He -said--the sitting was a noisy one, the Left were threshing out some -infernal questions--he said, during the height of the uproar, and -rapping with his paper-knife on his desk: "But we can not hear!" And as -these words were received on all sides with universal approbation -and cries of "Hear, hear!" he gave his thoughts a more parliamentary -expression by adding: "The voice of the honorable gentleman who -is speaking does not reach us." It was not much certainly, and the -amendment may have been carried all the same, but after all it was a -step; a triumph, to tell the truth, since your husband has from day to -day put off the delivery of his maiden speech. Behold a happy deputy, a -deputy who has just--put on his first pair of breeches. - -What matter whether the reason be a serious or a futile one, if your -blood flows faster, if you feel happier, if you are proud of yourself? -To win a great victory or put on a new bonnet, what matters it if this -new bonnet gives you the same joy as a laurel crown? - -Therefore do not laugh too much at baby if his first pair of breeches -intoxicates him, if, when he wears them, he thinks his shadow longer and -the trees less high. He is beginning his career as a man, dear child, -nothing more. - -How many things have not people been proud of since the beginning of the -world? They were proud of their noses under Francis the First, of their -perukes under Louis XIV, and later on of their appetites and stoutness. -A man is proud of his wife, his idleness, his wit, his stupidity, the -beard on his chin, the cravat round his neck, the hump on his back. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. COUNTRY CHILDREN - -I love the baby that runs about under the trees of the Tuileries; I -love the pretty little fair-haired girls with nice white stockings and -unmanageable crinolines. I like to watch the tiny damsels decked out -like reliquaries, and already affecting coquettish and lackadaisical -ways. It seems to me that in each of them I can see thousands of -charming faults already peeping forth. But all these miniature men and -women, exchanging postage stamps and chattering of dress, have something -of the effect of adorable monstrosities on me. - -I like them as I like a bunch of grapes in February, or a dish of green -peas in December. - -In the babies' kingdom, my friend, my favorite is the country baby, -running about in the dust on the highway barefoot and ragged, and -searching for black birds' and chaffinches' nests on the outskirts -of the woods. I love his great black wondering eye, which watches you -fixedly from between two locks of un combed hair, his firm flesh bronzed -by the sun, his swarthy forehead, hidden by his hair, his smudged face -and his picturesque breeches kept from falling off by the paternal -braces fastened to a metal button, the gift of a gendarme. - -Ah! what fine breeches; not very long in the legs, but, then, what room -everywhere else! He could hide away entirely in this immense space which -allows a shirt-tail, escaping through a slit, to wave like a flag. These -breeches preserve a remembrance of all the garments of the family; here -is a piece of maternal petticoat, here a fragment of yellow waistcoat, -here a scrap of blue handkerchief; the whole sewn with a thread that -presents the twofold advantage of being seen from a distance, and of not -breaking. - -But under these patched clothes you can make out a sturdy little -figure; and, besides, what matters the clothes? Country babies are not -coquettish; and when the coach comes down the hill with jingling bells -and they rush after it, stumbling over their neighbors, tumbling with -them in the dust, and rolling into the ditches, what would all these -dear little gamins do in silk stockings? - -I love them thus because they are wild, taking alarm, and fleeing away -at your approach like the young rabbits you surprise in the morning -playing among the wild thyme. You must have recourse to a thousand -subterfuges in order to triumph over their alarm and gain their -confidence. But if at length, thanks to your prudence, you find yourself -in their company, at the outset play ceases, shouts and noise die away; -the little group remain motionless, scratching their heads, and all -their uneasy eyes look fixedly at you. This is the difficult moment. - -A sharp word, a stern gesture, may cause an eternal misunderstanding -with them, just as a kind remark, a smile, a caress will soon accomplish -their conquest. And this conquest is worth the trouble, believe me. - -One of my chief methods of winning them was as follows: I used to take -my watch out of my pocket and look at it attentively. Then I would see -my little people stretch their necks, open their eyes, and come a step -nearer; and it would often happen that the chickens, ducklings, and -geese, which were loitering close by in the grass, imitated their -comrades and drew near too. I then would put my watch to my ear and -smile like a man having a secret whispered to him. In presence of this -prodigy my youngsters could no longer restrain themselves, and would -exchange among themselves those keen, simple, timid, mocking looks, -which must have been seen to be understood. They advanced this time in -earnest, and if I offered to let the boldest listen, by holding out my -watch to him, he would draw back alarmed, although smiling, while the -band would break into an outburst of joy; the ducklings flapping their -wings, the white geese cackling, and the chickens going chk, chk. The -game was won. - -How many times have I not played this little farce, seated under a -willow on the banks of my little stream, which ripples over the white -stones, while the reeds bend tremblingly. The children would crowd round -me to hear the watch, and soon questions broke forth in chorus to an -accompaniment of laughter. They inspected my gaiters, rummaged in my -pockets and leant against my knees. The ducklings glided under my feet, -and the big geese tickled my back. - -How enjoyable it is not to alarm creatures that tremble at everything. I -would not move for fear of interrupting their joy, and was like a child -who is building a house of cards and who has got to the third story. But -I marked all these happy little faces standing out against the blue sky; -I watched the rays of the sun stealing into the tangles of their fair -hair, or spreading in a patch of gold on their little brown necks; I -followed their gestures full of awkwardness and grace; I sat down on the -grass to be the nearer to them; and if an unfortunate chicken came to -grief, between two daisies, I quickly stretched out my arm and replaced -it on its legs. - -I assure you that they were all grateful. If one loves these little -people at all, there is one thing that strikes you when you watch them -closely. Ducklings dabbling along the edge of the water or turning head -over heels in their feeding trough, young shoots thrusting forth their -tender little leaves above ground, little chickens running along before -their mother hen, or little men staggering among the grass-all these -little creatures resemble one another. They are the babies of the great -mother Nature; they have common laws, a common physiognomy; they have -something inexplicable about them which is at once comic and graceful, -awkward and tender, and which makes them loved at once; they are -relations, friends, comrades, under the same flag. This pink and white -flag, let us salute it as it passes, old graybeards that we are. It is -blessed, and is called childhood. - -All babies are round, yielding, weak, timid, and soft to the touch as -a handful of wadding. Protected by cushions of good rosy flesh or by a -coating of soft down, they go rolling, staggering, dragging along -their little unaccustomed feet, shaking in the air their plump hands -or featherless wing. See them stretched haphazard in the sun without -distinction of species, swelling themselves with milk or meal, and dare -to say that they are not alike. Who knows whether all these children of -nature have not a common point of departure, if they are not brothers of -the same origin? - -Since men with green spectacles have existed, they have amused -themselves with ticketing the creatures of this world. These latter are -arranged, divided into categories and classified, as though by a careful -apothecary who wants everything about him in order. It is no slight -matter to stow away each one in the drawer that suits him, and I have -heard that certain subjects still remain on the counter owing to their -belonging to two show-cases at once. - -And what proves to me, indeed, that these cases exist? What is there to -assure me that the whole world is not one family, the members of which -only differ by trifles which we are pleased to regard as everything? - -Have you fully established the fact of these drawers and compartments? -Have you seen the bars of these imaginary cages in which you imprison -kingdoms and species? Are there not infinite varieties which escape -your analysis, and are, as it were, the unknown links uniting all the -particles of the animated world? Why say, "For these eternity, for those -annihilation?" - -Why say, "This is the slave, that is the sovereign?" Strange boldness -for men who are ignorant of almost everything! - -Man, animal or plant, the creature vibrates, suffers or enjoys--exists -and encloses in itself the trace of the same mystery. What assures me -that this mystery, which is everywhere the same, is not the sign of a -similar relationship, is not the sign of a great law of which we are -ignorant? - -I am dreaming, you will say. And what does science do herself when she -reaches that supreme point at which magnifying glasses become obscure -and compasses powerless? It dreams, too; it supposes. Let us, too, -suppose that the tree is a man, rough skinned dreamy and silent, who -loves, too, after his fashion and vibrates to his very roots when some -evening a warm breeze, laden with the scents of the plain, blows through -his green locks and overwhelms him with kisses. No, I do not accept -the hypothesis of a world made for us. Childish pride, which would be -ridiculous did not its very simplicity lend it something poetic, alone -inspires it. Man is but one of the links of an immense chain, of the two -ends of which we are ignorant. [See Mark Twain's essay: 'What is Man.' -D.W.] - -Is it not consoling to fancy that we are not an isolated power to which -the remainder of the world serves as a pedestal, that one is not a -licensed destroyer, a poor, fragile tyrant, whom arbitrary decrees -protect, but a necessary note of an infinite harmony? To fancy that the -law of life is the same in the immensity of space and irradiates worlds -as it irradiates cities and as it irradiates ant-hills. To fancy that -each vibration in ourselves is the echo of another vibration. To fancy a -sole principle, a primordial axiom, to think the universe envelops us -as a mother clasps her child in her two arms; and say to one's self, "I -belong to it and it to me; it would cease to be without me. I should -not exist without it." To see, in short, only the divine unity of laws, -which could not be nonexistent, where others have only seen a ruling -fancy or an individual caprice. - -It is a dream. Perhaps so, but I have often dreamed it when watching the -village children rolling on the fresh grass among the ducklings. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. AUTUMN - -Do you know the autumn, dear reader, autumn away in the country with its -squalls, its long gusts, its yellow leaves whirling in the distance, its -sodden paths, its fine sunsets, pale as an invalid's smile, its pools of -water in the roadway; do you know all these? If you have seen all these -they are certainly not indifferent to you. One either detests or else -loves them. - -I am of the number of those who love them, and I would give two summers -for a single autumn. I adore the big blazing fires; I like to take -refuge in the chimney corner with my dog between my wet gaiters. I like -to watch the tall flames licking the old ironwork and lighting up the -black depths. You hear the wind whistling in the stable, the great door -creak, the dog pull at his chain and howl, and, despite the noise of the -forest trees which are groaning and bending close by, you can make out -the lugubrious cawings of a flock of rooks struggling against the storm. -The rain beats against the little panes; and, stretching your legs -toward the fire, you think of those without. You think of the sailors, -of the old doctor driving his little cabriolet, the hood of which sways -to and fro as the wheels sink into the ruts, and Cocotte neighs in -the teeth of the wind. You think of the two gendarmes, with the rain -streaming from their cocked hats; you see them, chilled and soaked, -making their way along the path among the vineyards, bent almost double -in the saddle, their horses almost covered with their long blue cloaks. -You think of the belated sportsman hastening across the heath, pursued -by the wind like a criminal by justice, and whistling to his dog, poor -beast, who is splashing through the marshland. Unfortunate doctor, -unfortunate gendarmes, unfortunate sportsman! - -And all at once the door opens and Baby rushes in exclaiming: "Papa, -dinner is ready." Poor doctor! poor gendarmes! - -"What is there for dinner?" - -The cloth was as white as snow in December, the plate glittered in the -lamplight, the steam from the soup rose up under the lamp-shade, veiling -the flame and spreading an appetizing smell of cabbage. Poor doctor! -poor gendarmes! - -The doors were well closed, the curtains carefully drawn. Baby hoisted -himself on to his tall chair and stretched out his neck for his napkin -to be tied round it, exclaiming at the same time with his hands in the -air: "Nice cabbage soup." And, smiling to myself, I said: "The youngster -has all my tastes." - -Mamma soon came, and cheerfully pulling off her tight gloves: "There, -sir, I think, is something that you are very fond of," she said to me. - -It was a pheasant day, and instinctively I turned round a little to -catch a glimpse on the sideboard of a dusty bottle of my old Chambertin. -Pheasant and Chambertin! Providence created them for one another and my -wife has never separated them. - -"Ah! my children, how comfortable you are here," said I, and every one -burst out laughing. Poor gendarmes! poor doctor! - -Yes, yes, I am very fond of the autumn, and my darling boy liked it as -well as I did, not only on account of the pleasure there is in gathering -round a fine large fire, but also on account of the squalls themselves, -the wind and the dead leaves. There is a charm in braving them. How many -times we have both gone out for a walk through the country despite cold -and threatening clouds. We were wrapped up and shod with thick boots; -I took his hand and we started off at haphazard. He was five years old -then and trotted along like a little man. Heavens! it is five-and-twenty -years ago. We went up the narrow lane strewn with damp black leaves; -the tall gray poplars stripped of their foliage allowed a view of the -horizon, and we could see in the distance, under a violet sky streaked -with cold and yellowish bands, the low thatched roofs and the red -chimneys from which issued little bluish clouds blown away by the wind. -Baby jumped for joy, holding with his hand his hat which threatened to -fly off, and looking at me with eyes glittering through tears brought -into them by the breeze. His cheeks were red with cold, and quite at the -tip of his nose hung ready to drop a small transparent pearl. But he was -happy, and we skirted the wet meadows overflowed by the swollen river. -No more reeds, no more water lilies, no more flowers on the banks. Some -cows, up to mid-leg in damp herbage, were grazing quietly. - -At the bottom of a ditch, near a big willow trunk, two little girls -were huddled together under a big cloak wrapped about them. They were -watching their cows, their half bare feet in split wooden shoes and -their two little chilled faces under the large hood. From time to time -large puddles of water in which the pale sky was reflected barred the -way, and we remained for a moment beside these miniature lakes, rippling -beneath the north wind, to see the leaves float on them. They were the -last. We watched them detach themselves from the tops of the tall trees, -whirl through the air and settle in the puddles. I took my little boy in -my arms and we went through them as we could. At the boundaries of -the brown and stubble fields was an overturned plough or an abandoned -harrow. The stripped vines were level with the ground, and their damp -and knotty stakes were gathered in large piles. - -I remember that one day in one of these autumnal walks, as we gained the -top of the hill by a broken road which skirts the heath and leads to -the old bridge, the wind suddenly began to blow furiously. My darling, -overwhelmed by it, caught hold of my leg and sheltered himself in the -skirt of my coat. My dog, for his part, stiffening his four legs, with -his tail between the hind ones and his ears waving in the wind, looked -up at me too. I turned, the horizon was as gloomy as the interior of a -church. Huge black clouds were sweeping toward us, and the trees were -bending and groaning on every side under the torrents of rain driven -before the squall. I only had time to catch up my little man, who was -crying with fright, and to run and squeeze myself against a hedge -which was somewhat protected by the old willows. I opened my umbrella, -crouched down behind it, and, unbuttoning my big coat, stuffed Baby -inside. He clung closely to me. My dog placed himself between my legs, -and Baby, thus sheltered by his two friends, began to smile from the -depths of his hiding-place. I looked at him and said: - -"Well, little man, are you all right?" - -"Yes, dear papa." - -I felt his two arms clasp round my waist--I was much thinner than I am -now--and I saw that he was grateful to me for acting as a roof to him. -Through the opening he stretched out his little lips and I bent mine -down. - -"Is it still raining outside, papa?" - -"It will soon be over." - -"Already, I am so comfortable inside you." - -How all this stays in your heart. It is perhaps silly to relate these -little joys, but how sweet it is to recall them. - -We reached home as muddy as two water-dogs and we were well scolded. -But when evening had come and Baby was in bed and I went to kiss him and -tickle him a little, as was our custom, he put his two little arms round -my neck and whispered: "When it rains we will go again, eh?" - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. HE WOULD HAVE BEEN FORTY NOW - -When you have seen your child born, have watched his first steps in -life, have noted him smile and weep, have heard him call you papa as -he stretches out his little arms to you, you think that you have become -acquainted with all the joys of paternity, and, as though satiated with -these daily joys that are under your hand, you already begin to picture -those of the morrow. You rush ahead, and explore the future; you are -impatient, and gulp down present happiness in long draughts, instead of -tasting it drop by drop. But Baby's illness suffices to restore you to -reason. - -To realize the strength of the ties that bind you to him, it is -necessary to have feared to see them broken; to know that a river is -deep, you must have been on the point of drowning in it. - -Recall the morning when, on drawing aside the curtain of his bed, you -saw on the pillow his little face, pale and thin. His sunken eyes, -surrounded by a bluish circle, were half closed. You met his glance, -which seemed to come through a veil; he saw you, without smiling at you. -You said, "Good morning," and he did not answer. His face only expressed -dejection and weakness, it was no longer that of your child. He gave -a kind of sigh, and his heavy eyelids drooped. You took his hands, -elongated, transparent, and with colorless nails; they were warm and -moist. You kissed them, those poor little hands, but there was no -responsive thrill to the contact of your lips. Then you turned round, -and saw your wife weeping behind you. It was at that moment when you -felt yourself shudder from head to foot, and that the idea of a possible -woe seized on you, never more to leave you. Every moment you kept going -back to the bed and raising the curtains again, hoping perhaps that you -had not seen aright, or that a miracle had taken place; but you withdrew -quickly, with a lump in your throat. And yet you strove to smile, -to make him smile himself; you sought to arouse in him the wish for -something, but in vain; he remained motionless, exhausted, not even -turning round, indifferent to all you said, to everything, even -yourself. - -And what is all that is needed to strike down this little creature, to -reduce him to this pitch? Only a few hours. What, is that all that is -needed to put an end to him? Five minutes. Perhaps. - -You know that life hangs on a thread in this frail body, so little -fitted to suffer. You feel that life is only a breath, and say to -yourself: "Suppose this one is his last." A little while back he was -complaining. Already he does so no longer. It seems as though someone -is clasping him, bearing him away, tearing him from your arms. Then you -draw near him, and clasp him to you almost involuntarily, as though to -give him back some of your own life. His bed is damp with fever sweats, -his lips are losing their color. The nostrils of his little nose, grown -sharp and dry, rise and fall. His mouth remains wide open. It is that -little rosy mouth which used to laugh so joyfully, those are the two -lips that used to press themselves to yours, and... all the joys, the -bursts of laughter, the follies, the endless chatter, all the bygone -happiness, flock to your recollection at the sound of that gasping, -breathing, while big hot tears fall slowly from your eyes. Poor wee man. -Your hand seeks his little legs, and you dare not touch his chest, which -you have kissed so often, for fear of encountering that ghastly leanness -which you foresee, but the contact of which would make you break out in -sobs. And then, at a certain moment, while the sunlight was flooding the -room, you heard a deeper moan, resembling a cry. You darted forward; his -face was contracted, and he looked toward you with eyes that no longer -saw. And then all was calm, silent and motionless, while his hollow -cheeks became yellow and transparent as the amber of his necklaces. - -The recollection of that moment lasts for a lifetime in the hearts of -those who have loved; and even in old age, when time has softened your -grief, when other joys and other sorrows have filled your days, his -dying bed still appears to you when sitting of an evening beside the -fire. You see amid the sparkling flames the room of the lost child, the -table with the drinks, the bottles, the arsenal of illness, the little -garments, carefully folded, that waited for him so long, his toys -abandoned in a corner. You even see the marks of his little fingers on -the wall paper, and the zigzags he made with his pencil on the door; -you see the corner scribbled over with lines and dates, in which he -was measured every month, you see him playing, running, rushing up in a -perspiration to throw himself into your arms, and, at the same time, -you also see him fixing his glazing eyes on you, or motionless and cold -under a white sheet, wet with holy water. - -Does not this recollection recur to you sometimes, Grandma, and do not -you still shed a big tear as you say to yourself: "He would have been -forty now?" Do we not know, dear old lady, whose heart still bleeds, -that at the bottom of your wardrobe, behind your jewels, beside packets -of yellow letters, the handwriting of which we will not guess at, there -is a little museum of sacred relics--the last shoes in which he played -about on the gravel the day he complained of being cold, the remains -of some broken toys, a dried sprig of box, a little cap, his last, in -a triple wrapper, and a thousand trifles that are a world to you, poor -woman, that are the fragments of your broken heart? - -The ties that unite children to parents are unloosed. Those which unite -parents to children are broken. In one case, it is the past that is -wiped out; in the other, the future that is rent away. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. CONVALESCENCE - -But, my patient reader, forget what have just said. Baby does not want -to leave you, he does not want to die, poor little thing, and if you -want a proof of it, watch him very closely; there, he smiles. - -A very faint smile like those rays of sunlight that steal between two -clouds at the close of a wet winter. You rather guess at than see -this smile, but it is enough to warm your heart. The cloud begins to -disperse, he sees you, he hears you, he knows that papa is there, -your child is restored to you. His glance is already clearer. Call him -softly. He wants to turn, but he can not yet, and for his sole answer -his little hand, which is beginning to come to life again, moves and -crumples the sheet. Just wait a little, poor impatient father, and -tomorrow, on his awakening, he will say "Papa." You will see what good -it will do you, this "Papa," faint as a mere breath, this first scarcely -intelligible sign of a return to life. It will seem to you that your -child has been born again a second time. - -He will still suffer, he will have further crises, the storm does not -become a calm all at once, but he will be able now to rest his head on -your shoulder, nestle in your arms among the blankets; he will be able -to complain, to ask help and relief of you with eye and voice; you will, -in short, be reunited, and you will be conscious that he suffers less -by suffering on your knees. You will hold his hand in yours, and if -you seek to go away he will look at you and grasp your finger. How many -things are expressed in this grasp. Dear sir, have you experienced it? - -"Papa, do stay with me, you help to make me better; when I am alone I -am afraid of the pain. Hold me tightly to you, and I shall not suffer so -much." - -The more your protection is necessary to another the more you enjoy -granting it. What is it then when this other is a second self, dearer -than the first. With convalescence comes another childhood, so to speak. -Fresh astonishments, fresh joys, fresh desires come one by one as health -is restored. But what is most touching and delightful, is that -delicate coaxing by the child who still suffers and clings to you, that -abandonment of himself to you, that extreme weakness that gives him -wholly over to you. At no period of his life has he so enjoyed your -presence, has he taken refuge so willingly in your dressing-gown, has he -listened more attentively to your stories and smiled more intelligently -at your merriment. Is it true, as it seems to you, that he has never -been more charming? Or is it simply that threatened danger has caused -you to set a higher value on his caresses, and that you count over -your treasures with all the more delight because you have been all but -ruined? - -But the little man is up again. Beat drums; sound trumpets; come out of -your hiding-places, broken horses; stream in, bright sun; a song from -you little birds. The little king comes to life again--long live the -king! And you, your majesty, come and kiss your father. - -What is singular is that this fearful crisis you have gone through -becomes in some way sweet to you; you incessantly recur to it, you -speak of it, you speak of it and cherish it in your mind; and, like the -companions of AEneas, you seek by the recollection of past dangers to -increase the present joy. - -"Do you remember," you say, "the day when he was so ill? Do you remember -his dim eyes, his poor; thin, little arm, and his pale lips? And that -morning the doctor went away after clasping our hands?" - -It is only Baby who does not remember anything. He only feels an -overpowering wish to restore his strength, fill out his cheeks and -recover his calves. - -"Papa, are we going to have dinner soon, eh, papa?" - -"Yes, it is getting dusk, wait a little." - -"But, papa, suppose we don't wait?" - -"In twenty minutes, you little glutton." - -"Twenty, is twenty a great many? If you eat twenty cutlets would it make -you ill? But with potatoes, and jam, and soup, and--is it still twenty -minutes?" - -Then again: "Papa, when there is beef with sauce," he has his mouth full -of it, "red tomato sauce." - -"Yes, dear, well?" - -"Well, a bullock is much bigger than what is on the dish; why don't they -bring the rest of the bullock? I could eat it all and then some bread -and then some haricots, and then--" - -He is insatiable when he has his napkin under his chin, and it is a -happiness to see the pleasure he feels in working his jaws. His little -eyes glisten, his cheeks grow red; what he puts away into his little -stomach it is impossible to say, and so busy is he that he has scarcely -time to laugh between two mouthfuls. Toward dessert his ardor slackens, -his look becomes more and more languid, his fingers relax and his eyes -close from time to time. - -"Mamma, I should like to go to bed," he says, rubbing his eyes. Baby is -coming round. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. FAMILY TIES - -The exhilaration of success and the fever of life's struggle take a man -away from his family, or cause him to live amid it as a stranger, and -soon he no longer finds any attractions in the things which charmed -him at the outset. But let ill luck come, let the cold wind blow rather -strongly, and he falls back upon himself, he seeks near him something to -support him in his weakness, a sentiment to replace his vanished dream, -and he bends toward his child, he takes his wife's hand and presses it. -He seems to invite these two to share his burden. Seeing tears in the -eyes of those he loves, his own seem diminished to that extent. It would -seem that moral suffering has the same effect as physical pain. The -drowning wretch clutches at straws; in the same way, the man whose heart -is breaking clasps his wife and children to him. He asks in turn for -help, protection, and comfort, and it is a touching thing to see the -strong shelter himself in the arms of the weak and recover courage in -their kiss. Children have the instinct of all this; and the liveliest -emotion they are capable of feeling is that which they experience on -seeing their father weep. - -Recall, dear reader, your most remote recollections, seek in that past -which seems to you all the clearer the farther you are removed from it. -Have you ever seen your father come home and sit down by the fire with -a tear in his eye? Then you dared not draw near him at first, so deeply -did you feel his grief. How unhappy he must be for his eyes to be -wet. Then you felt that a tie attached you to this poor man, that his -misfortune struck you too, that a part of it was yours, and that you -were smitten because your father was. And no one understands better -than the child this joint responsibility of the family to which he owes -everything. You have felt all this; your heart has swollen as you stood -silent in the corner, and sobs have broken forth as, without knowing -why, you have held out your arms toward him. He has turned, he has -understood all, he has not been able to restrain his grief any further, -and you have remained clasped in one another's arms, father, mother, -and child, without saying anything, but gazing at and understanding one -another. Did you, however, know the cause of the poor man's grief? - -Not at all. - -This is why filial love and paternal love have been poetized, why the -family is styled holy. It is because one finds therein the very source -of that need of loving, helping and sustaining one another, which from -time to time spreads over the whole of society, but in the shape of a -weakened echo. It is only from time to time in history that we see a -whole nation gather together, retire within itself and experience the -same thrill. - -A frightful convulsion is needed to make a million men hold out their -hands to one another and understand one another at a glance; it needs -a superhuman effort for the family to become the nation, and for the -boundaries of the hearth to extend to the frontiers. - -A complaint, a pang, a tear, is enough to make a man, a woman, and a -child, blend their hearts together and feel that they are but one. - -Laugh at marriage; the task is easy. All human contracts are tainted -with error, and an error is always smiled at by those who are not the -victims of it. There are husbands, it is certain; and when we see a man -tumble down, even if he knocks his brains out, our first impulse it -to burst out laughing. Hence the great and eternal mirth that greets -Sganarelle. - -But search to the bottom and behold that beneath all these trifles, -beneath all this dust of little exploded vanities, ridiculous mistakes -and comical passions, is hidden the very pivot of society. Verify that -in this all is for the best, since this family sentiment, which is the -basis of society, is also its consolation and joy. - -The honor of our flag, the love of country, and all that urges a man to -devote himself to something or some one not himself, are derived from -this sentiment, and in it, you may assert, is to be found the source -whence flow the great streams at which the human heart quenches its -thirst. - -Egotism for three, you say. What matter, if this egotism engenders -devotion? - -Will you reproach the butterfly with having been a caterpillar? - -Do not accuse me in all this of exaggeration, or of poetic exaltation. - -Yes, family life is very often calm and commonplace, the stock-pot -that figures on its escutcheon has not been put there without reason, I -admit. To the husband who should come and say to me: "Sir, for two days -running I have fallen asleep by the fireside," I should reply: "You are -too lazy, but after all I understand you." - -I also understand that Baby's trumpet is noisy, that articles of -jewellery are horribly dear, that lace flounces and sable trimmings are -equally so, that balls are wearisome, that Madame has her vapors, her -follies, exigencies; I understand, in short, that a man whose career is -prosperous looks upon his wife and child as two stumbling blocks. - -But I am waiting for the happy man, for the moment when his forehead -will wrinkle, when disappointment will descend upon his head like a -leaden skull-cap, and when picking up the two blocks he has cursed he -will make two crutches of them. - -I admit that Alexander the Great, Napoleon the First, and all the -demi-gods of humanity, have only felt at rare intervals the charm of -being fathers and husbands; but we other poor little men, who are less -occupied, must be one or the other. - -I do not believe in the happy old bachelor; I do not believe in -the happiness of all those who, from stupidity or calculation, have -withdrawn themselves from the best of social laws. A great deal has -been said on this subject, and I do not wish to add to the voluminous -documents in this lawsuit. Acknowledge frankly all you who have heard -the cry of your new-born child and felt your heart tingle like a glass -on the point of breaking, unless you are idiots, acknowledge that you -said to yourselves: "I am in the right. Here, and here alone, lies man's -part. I am entering on a path, beaten and worn, but straight; I shall -cross the weary downs, but each step will bring me nearer the village -spire. I am not wandering through life, I am marching on, I stir with my -feet the dust in which my father has planted his. My child, on the same -road, will find the traces of my footsteps, and, perhaps, on seeing that -I have not faltered, will say: 'Let me act like my old father and not -lose myself in the ploughed land.'" - -If the word holy has still a meaning, despite the uses it has been put -to, I do not see that a better use can be made of it than by placing it -beside the word family. - -They speak of progress, justice, general well-being, infallible -policies, patriotism, devotion. I am for all these good things, but this -bright horizon is summed up in these three words: "Love your neighbor," -and this is precisely, in my opinion, the thing they forget to teach. - -To love your neighbor is as simple as possible, but the mischief is that -you do not meet with this very natural feeling. There are people who -will show you the seed in the hollow of their hand, but even those who -deal in this precious grain are the last to show you it in leaf. - -Well, my dear reader, this little plant which should spring up like -the poppies in the wheat, this plant which has never been seen growing -higher than watercress, but which should overtop the oaks, this -undiscoverable plant, I know where it grows. - -It grows beside the domestic hearth, between the shovel and tongs; it is -there that it perpetuates itself, and if it still exists, it is to the -family that we owe it. I love pretty nearly all the philanthropists and -saviours of mankind; but I only believe in those who have learned to -love others by embracing their own children. - -Mankind can not be remodelled to satisfy the wants of humanitarian -theories; man is egotistical, and he loves, above all, those who are -about him. This is the natural human sentiment, and it is this which -must be enlarged, extended and cultivated. In a word, it is in family -love that is comprised love of country and consequently of humanity. It -is from fathers that citizens are made. - -Man has not twenty prime movers, but only one in his heart; do not argue -but profit by it. - -Affection is catching. Love between three--father, mother, and -child--when it is strong, soon requires space; it pushes back the walls -of the house, and by degrees invites the neighbors. The important thing, -then, is to give birth to this love between three; for it is madness, -I am afraid, to thrust the whole human species all at once on a man's -heart. Such large mouthfuls are not to be swallowed at a gulp, nor -without preparation. - -This is why I have always thought that with the numerous sous given for -the redemption of the little Chinese, we might in France cause the fire -to sparkle on hearths where it sparkles no longer, make many eyes grow -brighter round a tureen of smoking soup, warm chilled mothers, bring -smiles to the pinched faces of children, and give pleasure and happiness -to poor discouraged ones on their return home. - -What a number of hearty kisses you might have brought about with all -these sous, and, in consequence, what a sprinkling with the watering-pot -for the little plant you wot of. - -"But then what is to become of the redemption of the little Chinese?" - -We will think of this later; we must first know how to love our own -before we are able to love those of others. - -No doubt, this is brutal and egotistical, but you can not alter it; it -is out of small faults that you build up great virtues. And, after all, -do not grumble, this very vanity is the foundation stone of that great -monument--at present still propped up by scaffolding--which is called -Society. - - - ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: - - A ripe husband, ready to fall from the tree - Affection is catching - All babies are round, yielding, weak, timid, and soft - And I shall say 'damn it,' for I shall then be grown up - Answer "No," but with a little kiss which means "Yes" - As regards love, intention and deed are the same - But she thinks she is affording you pleasure - Clumsily, blew his nose, to the great relief of his two arms - Do not seek too much - Emotion when one does not share it - First impression is based upon a number of trifles - He Would Have Been Forty Now - Hearty laughter which men affect to assist digestion - How many things have not people been proud of - How rich we find ourselves when we rummage in old drawers - Husband who loves you and eats off the same plate is better - I would give two summers for a single autumn - I do not accept the hypothesis of a world made for us - I came here for that express purpose - I am not wandering through life, I am marching on - Ignorant of everything, undesirous of learning anything - In his future arrange laurels for a little crown for your own - It (science) dreams, too; it supposes - It is silly to blush under certain circumstances - Learned to love others by embracing their own children - Life is not so sweet for us to risk ourselves in it singlehanded - Love in marriage is, as a rule, too much at his ease - Man is but one of the links of an immense chain - Rather do not give--make yourself sought after - Reckon yourself happy if in your husband you find a lover - Recollection of past dangers to increase the present joy - Respect him so that he may respect you - Shelter himself in the arms of the weak and recover courage - Sometimes like to deck the future in the garments of the past - The heart requires gradual changes - The future that is rent away - The recollection of that moment lasts for a lifetime - The future promises, it is the present that pays - Their love requires a return - There are pious falsehoods which the Church excuses - Ties that unite children to parents are unloosed - Ties which unite parents to children are broken - To be able to smoke a cigar without being sick - To love is a great deal--To know how to love is everything - We are simple to this degree, that we do not think we are - When time has softened your grief - Why mankind has chosen to call marriage a man-trap - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Monsieur, Madame and Bebe, Complete -by Gustave Droz - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONSIEUR, MADAME AND BEBE, *** - -***** This file should be named 3926.txt or 3926.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/2/3926/ - -Produced by David Widger - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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