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diff --git a/44384-0.txt b/44384-0.txt index 777c666..e8663f1 100644 --- a/44384-0.txt +++ b/44384-0.txt @@ -1,4 +1,4 @@ -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44384 *** +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44384 *** A VIRGIN HEART @@ -4916,5 +4916,4 @@ THE END End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Virgin Heart, by Remy de Gourmont - *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44384 *** diff --git a/44384-h/44384-h.htm b/44384-h/44384-h.htm index 5dba8ba..d377c55 100644 --- a/44384-h/44384-h.htm +++ b/44384-h/44384-h.htm @@ -60,9 +60,9 @@ hr.r65 {width: 65%; margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em;} </style> </head> <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44384 ***</div> -<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44384 ***</div> @@ -4983,7 +4983,7 @@ happy.</p> -<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44384 ***</div> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44384 ***</div> </body> </html> diff --git a/44384.json b/44384.json deleted file mode 100644 index d02c463..0000000 --- a/44384.json +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5 +0,0 @@ -{
- "DATA": {
- "CREDIT": "Produced by Marc D'Hooghe (Images generously made available by the Internet Archive)"
- }
-}
diff --git a/old/44384-8.txt b/old/44384-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e6b43ea..0000000 --- a/old/44384-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5310 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Virgin Heart, by Remy de Gourmont - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: A Virgin Heart - A Novel - -Author: Remy de Gourmont - -Translator: Aldous Huxley - -Release Date: December 8, 2013 [EBook #44384] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A VIRGIN HEART *** - - - - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at http://www.freeliterature.org -(Images generously made available by the Internet Archive) - - - - - -A VIRGIN HEART - -A Novel - -BY - -REMY DE GOURMONT - -Authorized Translation - -by - -ALDOUS HUXLEY - -Toronto - -THE MUSSON BOOK COMPANY LIMITED - -1922 - - - - -Preface - - -The author had thought of qualifying this book: A Novel Without -Hypocrisy; but he reflected that these words might appear unseemly, -since hypocrisy is becoming more and more fashionable. - -He next thought of: A Physiological Novel; but that was still worse -in this age of great converts, when grace from on high so opportunely -purifies the petty human passions. - -These two sub-titles being barred, nothing was left; he has therefore -put nothing. - -A novel is a novel. And it would be no more than that if the author -had not attempted, by an analysis that knows no scruples, to reveal in -these pages what may be called the seamy side of a "virgin heart" to -show that innocence has its instincts, its needs, its physiological -dues. - -A young girl is not merely a young heart, but a young human body, all -complete. - -Such is the subject of this novel, which must, in spite of everything, -be called "physiological." - -R. G. - - - - -A VIRGIN HEART - - - -CHAPTER I - - -The terrace was in a ruinous state, over-grown with grass and brambles -and acacias. The girl was leaning on the Parapet, eating mulberries. -She displayed her purple-stained hands and laughed. M. Hervart -looked-up. - -"You've got a moustache as well," he said. "It looks very funny." - -"But I don't want to look funny." - -She walked to the little stream flowing close at hand, wetted her -handkerchief and began wiping her mouth. - -M. Hervart's eyes returned to his magnifying glass; he went on -examining the daisy on which he had two scarlet bugs so closely joined -together that they seemed a single insect. They had gone to sleep in -the midst of their love-making, and but for the quivering of their -long antennæ, you would have thought they were dead. M. Hervart would -have liked to watch the ending of this little scene of passion; but it -might go on for hours. He lost heart. - -"What's more," he reflected, "I know that the male does not die on the -spot; he goes running about in search of food as soon as he's free. -Still, I would have liked to see the mechanism of separation. That will -come with luck. One must always count on luck, whether one is studying -animals or men. To be sure, there is also patience, perseverance...." - -He made a little movement with his head signifying, no doubt, that -patience and perseverance were not in his line. Then, very gently he -laid the flower with its sleeping burden on the parapet of the terrace. -It was only then he noticed that Rose was no longer there. - -"I must have annoyed her by what I said about the moustache. It wasn't -true, either. But there are moments when that child gets on my nerves -with that look of hers, as though she wanted to be kissed. And yet, if -I did so much as to lay my hand on her shoulder, I should get my face -smacked. A curious creature. But then all women are curious creatures, -girls above all." - -Carefully wiping his glass, M. Hervart stepped across the stream and -entered the wood. - -M. Hervart was about forty. He was tall and thin; sometimes, when his -curiosity had kept him poring over something for too long at a stretch -he stooped a little. His eyes were bright and penetrating, despite the -fact that one of them had, it would seem, been narrowed and shrunk by -the use of the microscope. His clear-complexioned face, with its light -pointed beard, was pleasant, without being striking. - -He was the keeper of the department of Greek sculpture at the Louvre, -but the cold beauty of the marbles interested him little, and -archæology even less. He was a lover of life, who divided his days -between women and animals. Studying the habits of insects was his -favourite hobby. He was often to be seen at the Zoological Gardens, -or else, more often than at his office, in the animal-shop round the -corner. His evenings he devoted to amusement, frequenting every kind -of society. To sympathetic audiences he liked to give out that he was -the descendant of the M. d'Hervart whose wife had La Fontaine for a -lover. He used also to say that it was only his professional duties -that had prevented his making himself a name as a naturalist. But the -opinion of most people was that M. Hervart was, in all he did, nothing -more than a clever amateur, ruined by a great deal of indolence. - -Every two or three years he used to go and stay with his friend M. -Desbois at his manor of Robinvast, near Cherbourg. M. Desbois was a -retired commercial sculptor, who had recently ennobled himself by means -of a Y and one or two other little changes. When M. Des Boys burst -upon the world, Hervart appeared not to notice the metamorphosis. That -earned him an increase in affection, and whenever he came to visit, -Mme. Des Boys would take almost excessive pains about the cooking. - -Mme. Des Boys, who had been sentimental and romantic in her youth -and had remained all her life rather a silly woman, had insisted on -calling her daughter Rose. It would have been a ridiculous name--Rose -Des Boys--if Rose had been the sort of girl to tolerate the repetition -of a foolish compliment. Ordinarily she was a gay and gentle creature, -but she could be chilling, could ignore and disregard you in the -cruellest fashion. Her parents adored her and were afraid of her: so -they allowed her to do what she liked. She was twenty years old. - -Meanwhile, M. Hervart was looking for Rose. He did not dare call her, -because he did not know what name to use. In conversation he said: You; -before strangers, Mademoiselle; in his own mind, Rose. - -"She was much nicer two years ago. She listened to what I had to say. -She obeyed me. She caught insects for me. This is the critical moment -now. If we were bugs...." - -He went on: - -"Whether it's women or beetles, love is their whole life. Bugs die -as soon as their work is done, and women begin dying from the moment -of their first kiss.... They also begin living. It's pretty, the -spectacle of these girls who want to live, want to fulfil their -destiny, and don't know how, and go sobbing through the darkness, -looking for their way. I expect I shall find her crying." - -Rose, indeed, had just finished wiping her eyes. They were blue when -she was sad and greenish when she laughed. - -"You've been crying. Did you prick yourself coming through this holly? -I did too." - -"I shouldn't cry for a thing like that. But who told you I'd been -crying? I got a fly in my eye. Look, only one of them's red." - -But, instead of lifting her head, she bent down and began to pick the -flowers at her feet. - -"May I sit down beside you?" - -"What a question!" - -"You see, your skirt takes up all the room." - -"Well then, push it away." - -M. Hervart turned back the outspread skirt and sat down on the old -bench--cautiously, for he knew that it was rather rickety. Now that he -had money and an aristocratic name, M. Des Boys had become romantic. -His whole domain, except for the kitchen garden and the rooms that -were actually inhabited, was kept in a perennially wild, decrepit -state. In the house and its surroundings you could see nothing but -mouldering walls and rotten planks moss-grown benches, impenetrable -bramble bushes. Near the stream stood an old tower from which the ivy -fell in a cataract whose waves of greenery splashed up again to the -summit of an old oak with dead forked branches--a pretty sight. The Des -Boys never went out except to show their virgin forest to a visitor. M. -Des Boys dabbled in painting. - -It was morning, and the wood was cool, still damp with dew. Through -the thickly woven beech branches the sunlight fell on the stiff holly -leaves and lit them up like flowers. A little chestnut tree, that had -sprouted all awry raised its twisted head towards the light! Near-by -stood a wild cherry, into which the sparrows darted, twittering and -alarmed. A jay passed like a flash of blue lightning. The wind crept in -beneath the trees, stirring the bracken that darkened and lightened at -its passage. A wounded bee fell on Rose's skirt. - -"Poor bee! One of his wings is unhooked. I'll try and put it right." - -"Take care," said Mr. Hervart. "It will sting. Animals never believe -that you mean well by them. To them every one's an enemy." - -"True," said Rose, shaking off the bee. "Your bugs will eat him and -that will be a happy ending. Every one's an enemy." - -Rose had spoken so bitterly that M. Hervart was quite distressed. He -brought his face close to hers as her big straw hat would permit, and -whispered: - -"Are you unhappy?" - -How beautifully women manage these things! In a flash the hat had -disappeared, tossed almost angrily aside, and at the same moment an -exquisitely pale and fluffy head dropped on to M. Hervart's shoulder. - -It was a touching moment. Much moved, the man put his arm round the -girl's waist. His hand took possession of the little hand that she -surrendered to him. He had only to turn and bend his head a little, and -he was kissing, close below the hair, a white forehead, feverishly -moist. He felt her abandonment to him becoming more deliberate; the -hand he was holding squeezed his own. - -Rose made an abrupt movement which parted them, and looking full at M. -Hervart, her face radiant with tenderness, she said: - -"I'm not unhappy now." - -She got up, and they moved away together through the wood, exchanging -little insignificant phrases in voices full of tenderness. Each time -their eyes met, they smiled. They kept on fingering leaves, flowers, -mere pieces of wood, so as to have an excuse for touching each other's -hand. Coming to a clearing where they could walk abreast, they allowed -their arms on the inner side to hang limply down, so that their hands -touched and were soon joined. - -There was a silence, prolonged and very delightful. Each, meanwhile, -was absorbed in his own thoughts. - -"Obviously," M. Hervart was saying to himself, "if I have any sense -left, I shall take the train home. First of all, I must go to Cherbourg -and send a telegram to some one who can send a wire to recall me. What -a nuisance! I was joying myself so much here. To whom shall I appeal? -To Gratienne? I shall have to write a letter in that case, to concoct -some story. Three or four days longer won't make matters any worse; I -know these young girls. Time doesn't exist for them; they live in the -absolute. So long as there's no jealousy--and I don't see how there -can be--I shall be all right. She is really charming--Rose. Lord! -what a state of excitement I'm in! But I must be reasonable. I shall -tell Gratienne to meet me at Grandcamp. She has been longing to go to -Grandcamp ever since she read that novel about the place. Besides, -there are the rocks. I'm quite indifferent provided I get away from -here...." - -"What are you thinking about?" - -"Can you ask, my dear child?" - -A squeeze from the little hand showed that his answer had been -understood. Silence settled down once more. - -"Gratienne? At this very moment she's probably with another lover. But -then, think of leaving a woman alone in Paris, in July? 'I am never -bored. I dine at Mme. Fleury's every day; she loves having me. We start -for Honfleur on the 25th. You must come and see us.' She imagines that -Honfleur is close to Cherbourg. 'I am never bored,' Come, come; When -women speak so clearly, it means they have nothing to hide.... On the -contrary it's one of their tricks...." - -"Well, my child, how's your wretchedness? Is it all over?" - -"I am very happy," Rose answered. - -A look from her big limpid eyes confirmed these solemn words and M. -Hervart was more moved than at the moment of her surrender. The idea -that he was the cause of this child's happiness filled him with pride. - -"Better not disturb Gratienne. She's so suspicious. Whom shall I write -to, then? My colleagues? No, I'm not on intimate enough terms. Gauvain, -the animal-shop man? That would be humiliating. What a bore it all -is! Leave it; we'll see later on. And after all, what's the matter? -A little sentimental friendship. Rose lives such a lonely life. Why -should I rob her of the innocent pleasure of playing--at sentiment -with me? Summer-holiday amusements...." - -"Oh," said Rose, "look at that beetle. Isn't he handsome." - -But the animal, superb in its gold and sapphire armour, had disappeared -under the dead leaves. They thought no more about it. Rose was occupied -by very different thoughts. She felt herself filled with an exultant -tenderness. - -"I don't belong to myself anymore. It's very thrilling. What is going -to happen? He'll kiss me on the eyes. There'll be no resisting, because -I belong to him." - -She lifted her head and looked at M. Hervart She seemed to be offering -her eyes. Without changing her position she closed them. A kiss settled -lightly on her soft eyelids. - -"He does everything I expect him to do. Does he read my thoughts or do -I read his?" - -Meanwhile M. Hervart was trying to find something gallant or -sentimental to say, and could think of nothing. - -"I might praise her chestnut hair, with its golden lights, tell her how -fine and silky it is. But is it? And besides, it might be a little -premature. What shall I praise? Her mouth? Its rather large. Her nose? -It's a little too hooked. Her complexion? Is it a compliment to say -it's pale and opaque? Her eyes? That would look like an allusion. -They're pretty, though--her eyes, the way they change colour." - -He had picked a blade of grass as he walked. It was covered with little -black moving specks. "What a bore," said M. Hervart, "I've forgotten to -bring my microscope." - -"I've got one, only the reflector's broken. It will have to be sent to -Cherbourg." - -"Couldn't you take it yourself?" - -"If you like." - -"But wouldn't you enjoy it, Rose?" - -She was so pleased at being called Rose, that for a moment she did not -answer. Then she said, blushing: - -"You see, I scarcely ever go out of this place: the idea hardly occurs -to me. But I should love to go with you." - -She added with a spoilt child's tone of authority: "I'll go and tell -father. We'll start after luncheon." - -M. Hervart looked once more at his indecipherable grass blade. - -"I know a good shop," he said. "Lepoultel the marine optician. Do you -know him? He's a friend of Gauvain's...." - -"The animal man?" - -"What, do you mean to say you remember that?" - -"I remember everything you tell me," answered Rose, very seriously. - -M. Hervart was flattered. It occurred to him also that this sentimental -child might make a very good practical little wife. His rather curious -life passed rapidly before him and he called to mind some of the -mistresses of his fugitive amours. He saw Gratienne; it was six months -since they had met; she would have left him, very likely, by the time -he returned. At this thought M. Hervart frowned. At the same time the -pressure of his fingers relaxed. - -Rose looked at him: - -"What are you thinking about?" - -"Again!" said M. Hervart to himself. "Oh, that eternal feminine -question! As if any one ever answered it! Here's my answer...." - -Looking at the clouds, he pronounced: - -"I think it's going to rain." - -"Oh, no!" said Rose, "I don't think so. The wind is 'suet'...." - -Conscious of having uttered a provincialism, she made haste to add: - -"As the country people say." - -"What does it mean?" - -"South-east." - -M. Hervart was little interested in dialectal forms; rather spitefully -and with the true Parisian's fatuous vanity, he replied: - -"What an ugly word! You ought to say South-east. You're a regular -peasant woman." - -"Laugh away," said Rose. "I don't mind, now. We're all country-people; -my father comes from these parts, so does my mother. I wasn't born -here, but I belong to the place. I belong to it as the trees do, as the -grass and all the animals. Yes, I _am_ a peasant woman." - -She raised her head proudly. - -"I come from here too," said M. Hervart. - -"Yes, and you don't care for it any longer." - -"I do, because it produced you and because you love it." - -Delighted at the discovery of this insipidity, M. Hervart darted, hat -in hand, in pursuit of a butterfly; he missed it. - -"They're not so easy to catch as kisses," said Rose with a touch of -irony. - -M. Hervart was startled. - -"Is she merely sensual?" he wondered. - -But Rose was incapable of dividing her nature into categories. She -felt her character as a perfect unity. Her remark had been just a -conversational remark, for she was not lacking in wit. - -Meanwhile, this mystery plunged M. Hervart into a prolonged meditation. -He constructed the most perverse theories about the precocity of girls. - -But he was soon ashamed of these mental wanderings. - -"Women are complex; not more so, of course, than men, but in a -different way which men can't understand. They don't understand -themselves, and what's more, they don't care about understanding. They -feel, and that suffices to steer them very satisfactorily through life, -as well as to solve problems which leave men utterly helpless. One -must act towards them as they do themselves. It's only through the -feelings that one can get into contact with them. There is but one way -of understanding women, and that is to love them.... Why shouldn't -I say that aloud? It would amuse her, and perhaps she might find -something pretty to say in reply." - -But, without being exactly shy, M. Hervart was nervous about hearing -the sound of his own voice. That was why he generally gave vent only -to the curtest phrases. Rose had taken his hand once more. This mute -language seemed to appeal to her, and M. Hervart was content to put up -with it, though he found this exchange of manual confidences a little -childish. - -"But nothing," he went on to himself, "nothing is childish in love...." - -This word, which he did not pronounce, even to himself, but which -he seemed to see, as though his own hand had written it on a sheet -of paper this word filled him with terror. He burst out into secret -protestations: - -"But there's no question of love. She doesn't love me. I don't love -her. It's a mere game. This child has made me a child like herself...." - -He wanted to stop thinking, but the process went on of its own accord. - -"A dangerous game.... I oughtn't to have kissed her eyes. Her forehead, -that's a different matter; it's fatherly.... And then letting her lean -on my shoulder, like that! What's to be done?" - -He had to admit that he had been the guilty party. Almost -unconsciously, prompted by his mere male instinct, he had, since his -arrival a fortnight before, and while still to all appearance, he -continued to treat her as a child, been silently courting her. He was -always looking at her, smiling to her, even though his words might -be serious. Feeling herself the object of an unceasing attention, -Rose had concluded that he wanted to capture her, and she had allowed -herself to be caught. M. Hervart considered himself too expert in -feminine psychology to admit the possibility of a young girl's having -deliberately taken the first step. He felt like an absent-minded -sportsman who, forgetting that he has fired, wakes up to find a -partridge in his game-bag. - -"An agreeable surprise," he reflected. "Almost too agreeable." - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -It had already grown hot. They sat down in the shade, on a tree trunk. -Large harmless ants crawled hither and thither on the bark, but M. -Hervart seemed to have lost his interest in entomology. Idly, they -looked at the busy little creatures, crossing and recrossing one -another's paths. - -"Do they know what they're doing? And do I know what I'm doing? Some -sensation guides them. What about me? They run here and there, because -they think they've seen or smelt some prey. And I? Oh, I should like to -run away from my prey. I reason, I deliberate.... Yes, I deliberate, or -at least I try." - -He looked up at the girl. - -Rose was engaged in pulling foxglove buds off their stems and making -them pop in the palm of her hand. Her face was serious. M. Hervart -could look at her without distracting her from her dreams. - -She made a pretty picture, as she sat there, gentle and, at the same -time, wild. Her features, while they still preserved a trace of -childishness, were growing marked and definite. She was a woman. How -red her mouth was, how voluptuous! M. Hervart caught himself reflecting -that that mouth would give most excellent kisses. What a fruit to bite, -firm-fleshed and succulent! Rose heaved a sigh, and it was as though -a wave had lifted her white dress; all her young bosom had seemed to -expand. M. Hervart had a vision of roseate whiteness, soft and living; -he desired it as a child desires the peach he sees on the wall hidden -under its long leaves. He took the pleasure in this desire that he had -sometimes taken in standing before Titian's Portrait of a Young Lady. -The obstacle was as insurmountable: Rose, so far as he was concerned, -was an illusion. - -"But that makes no difference," he said to himself, "I have desired -her, which isn't chaste of me. If I had been in love with her, I should -not have had that kind of vision. Therefore I am not in love with her. -Fortunately!" - -Rose was thinking of nothing. She was just letting herself be looked -at. Having been examined, she smiled gently, a smile that was faintly -tinged with shyness. Flying suddenly to the opposite extreme, she burst -out laughing and, holding on with both hands to the knotted trunk, -leaned backwards. Her hat fell off her hair came undone. She sat up -again, looking wilder than ever. M. Hervart thought that she was going -to run away, like Galatea; but there was no willow tree. - -"I don't care," she said as M. Hervart handed her the hat; "my hair -will have to stay down. It's all right like that. Pins don't hold on my -head." - -"Pins," said M. Hervart, "pins rarely do hold on women's heads." - -She smiled without answering and certainly without understanding. She -was smiling a great deal this morning, M. Hervart thought. - -"But her smile is so sweet that I should never get tired of it. Come -now, I'll tell her that...." - -"I love your smile. It's so sweet that I should never get tired of it." - -"As sweet as that? That's because it's so new. I don't smile much -generally." - -It was enough to move any man to the depths of his being. M. Hervart -murmured spontaneously: - -"I love you, Rose." - -Frankly, and without showing any surprise, she answered: - -"So do I, my dear." - -At the same time she shook her skirt on which a number of ants were -crawling. - -"This sort doesn't bite," she said. "They're nice...." - -"Like you." (What a compliment! How insipid! What a fool I'm making of -myself!) - -"There's one on your sleeve," said Rose. She brushed it off. - -"Now say thank you," and she presented her cheek, on which M. Hervart -printed the most fraternal of kisses. - -"It's incomprehensible," he thought. "However, I don't think she's in -love. If she were, she would run away. It is only after the decisive -act that love becomes familiar...." - -"If we want to go to Cherbourg," said Rose, "we must have lunch early." - -They moved away; soon they were out of the wood and had entered the -hardly less unkempt garden. It was sunny there, and they crossed it -quickly. She walked ahead. M. Hervart picked a rose as he went along -and presented it to her. Rose took it and picked another, which she -gave to M. Hervart, saying: - -"This one's me." - -M. Hervart had to begin pondering again. He was feeling happy, but -understood less and less. - -"She behaves as though she were in love with me.... She also behaves -as though she weren't. At one moment one would think that I was -everything to her. A little later she treats me like a mere friend of -the family..... And it's she who leads me on.... I have never seen -that with flirts.... Where can she have learnt it? Women are like the -noblemen in Molière's time: they know everything without having been -taught anything at all." - -M. Hervart weighed down in mind, but light of heart, went up to his -room, so as to be able to meditate more at ease. First of all he -smarted himself up with some care. He plucked from his beard a hair, -which, if not quite silver, was certainly very pale gold. He scented -his waistcoat and slipped on his finger an elaborately chased ring. - -"It may come in useful when conversation begins to flag." - -He was about to begin his meditations, when somebody knocked at the -door. Luncheon was ready. - -M. Des Boys, despite the disturbance of his plans seemed pleased. A -drive, he declared would do him good. He needed an outing; besides he -had a right to one. - -"I have just finished the ninth panel of my of my life of Sainte -Clotilde. It is her entry too the convent of Saint Martin at Tours." - -M. Hervart manifested an interest in this composition, which he had -admired the previous evening before it had been given the final -touches. He hoped to see it soon in its proper frame, with the other -panels in Robinvast church. - -"There are going to be twelve in all," said M. Des Boys. - -"People will come and see them as they do the Life of St. Bruno that -used to be at the Chartreux and is now in the Louvre." - -"So I hope." - -"But they won't come quite so much." - -"Yes, Robinvast is rather far. But then who goes to the Louvre? A few -artists, a few aimless foreign sightseers. Nobody in France takes an -interest in art." - -"Nobody in the world does," said M. Hervart, "except those who live by -it." - -"What about those who die of it?" asked Rose. - -Mme. Des Boys looked at her daughter with some surprise: - -"I have never heard that painting was a dangerous industry." - -"When one believes in it, it is," said M. Hervart. - -"What, not dangerous?" said M. Des Boys "What about white lead?" - -"One must believe," said Rose, looking at M. Hervart. - -"This just shows," M. Des Boys went on, "what the public's point of -view in this matter is. My wife's marvellously absurd remark exactly -represents their feelings." - -There followed a series of pointless anecdotes on Mme. Des Boys' -habitual absence of mind. M. Hervart very nearly forgot to laugh: he -was thinking of what Rose had just said. - -"Rose," said M. Des Boys, "ask Hervart if we weren't believers when we -went around the Louvre. We were in a fever of enthusiasm. Hervart is my -pupil; I formed his taste for beauty. Unluckily I left Paris and he has -turned out badly. I remain faithful, in spite of everything." - -"But" said M. Hervart, "faithfulness only begins at the moment of -discovering one's real vocation." - -Rose seemed to have given these words a meaning which M. Hervart had -not consciously intended they should have. Two eyes, full of an -infinite tenderness, rested on his like a caress. - -"It's as though I had made a declaration," he thought. "I must be mad. -But how can one avoid phrases which people go and take as premeditated -allusions?" - -However, he found the game amusing. It was possible in this way to -speak in public and to give utterance to one's real feelings under -cover of the commonplaces of conversation. Rose had given him the -example; he had followed her without thinking, but this docility was a -serious symptom. - -"I am lost. Here I am in process of falling in love." - -But like those drunkards who, feeling the moment of intoxication at -hand, desire to control themselves, but must still obey their cravings -because they have been so far weakened by the very sensation that now -awakens them to a consciousness of their state, M. Hervart, while -deciding that he ought to struggle, yielded. - -He drank off a whole glass of wine and said: - -"It is easy to make a mistake at one's first entry into life, and to go -on making it long after. I am still very fond of art, but I was never -meant to do more than pay her visits. We are friends, not a married -couple. I have built my house on other foundations; it may be worth -much or little, but I live in it faithfully. One can only stick to what -one loves. To keep a treasure, you must have found it first." - -He had spoken with passion. - -"What eloquence!" said M. Des Boys. - -All of a sudden, Rose began to laugh, a laugh so happy, so full of -gratitude, that M. Hervart could make no mistake about its meaning. - -"You're being laughed at, my poor friend," M. Des Boys went on. - -At this mistake, Rose's laughter redoubled. It became gay, childish, -uncontrollable. - -"This is something," said Mme. Des Boys, "which will console you, I -hope. But what a little demon my daughter is!" - -Out of pity for her mother, Rose made an effort to restrain herself. -She succeeded after two or three renewed spasms and said, addressing -herself to M. Hervart: - -"What do you think of the little demon? Are you afraid?" - -"More than you think." - -"So am I; I'm afraid of myself." - -"That's a sensible remark," said Mme. Des Boys. "Come now, behave." - -The home-made cake being approved of, she began giving the recipe. -A meal rarely passed without Mme. Des Boys' revealing some culinary -mystery. - -The carriage drove past the windows, and lunch ended almost without -further conversation. Rose had become dreamy. M. Hervart's conclusion -was: - -"Our affair has made the most terrifying progress in these few -seconds." - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -He went on with his meditations in the little wagonette which carried -them to Couville station. Rose was sitting opposite; their feet, -naturally, came into contact. - -M. Des Boys, who owned several farms, stopped to examine the state of -the crops. In some of the fields the corn had been beaten down. He got -up on the box beside the driver to ask him whether it was the same -throughout the whole district. He was very disquieted. - -M. Hervart stretched out his legs, so that he held the girl's knees -between his own. She smiled. M. Hervart, a little oppressed by his -emotions, dared not speak. He took her hand and kissed it. - -All of a sudden, Rose exclaimed: "We have forgotten the microscope!" - -"So we have! our pretext. What will become of us?" - -"But do we need a pretext, now?" - -M. Hervart renewed the pressure of his prisoning knees. That was his -first answer. - -"We're conspirators, Rose," he then said. "It's serious." - -"I hope so." - -"We have been conspirators for a long time." - -"Since this morning, yes." - -She blushed a little. - -"From that moment," M. Hervart went on, "when you said, 'One must -believe.'" - -"I said what I thought." - -"It's what I think too." - -"In this way," he said to himself, "I say what I ought to say without -going too far. 'Oh, if only I dared!" - -Meanwhile, he was disturbed by the thought of the microscope. - -"I shall buy one," he said, "and leave it with you. It will be of use -to me when I come again." - -"Stop," said Rose; her voice was low, but its tone was violent. "When -you talk of coming again, you're talking of going away." - -M. Hervart had nothing to answer. He got out of the difficulty by -renewing the pressure of his legs. - -They reached the little lonely station. The train came in, and a -quarter of an hour later they were in Cherbourg. - -M. Des Boys at once announced his intention of going to see the museum. -He wanted to look at a few masterpieces, he said, so that he might -once more compare his own art with that of the great men. M. Hervart -protested. For him, a holiday consisted in getting away from museums. -Furthermore, he regarded this particular collection, with its list of -great names, as being in large part apocryphal. - -"If the catalogue of the Louvre is false, as it is, what must the -catalogue of the Cherbourg museum be like?" he asked. - -M. Des Boys shrugged his shoulders: - -"You have lost my esteem." - -And he affirmed the perfect authenticity of the Van Dycks, Van Eycks, -Chardins, Poussins, Murillos, Jordaenses, Ribeiras, Fra Angelicos, -Cranachs, Pourbuses and Leonardos which adorned the town hall. - -"There's no Raphael," said M. Hervart, "and there ought to be a -Velasquez and a Titian and a Correggio." - -M. Des Boys replied sarcastically: - -"There's a Natural History museum." - -And with a wave of the hand, he disappeared round the corner of a -street. - -One would think everything in this dreary maritime city had been -arranged to disguise the fact that the sea is there. The houses turn -their backs on it, and a desert of stones and dust and wind lies -between the shores and the town. To discover that Cherbourg is really a -seaport, one must climb to the top of the Roule rock. M. Hervart had a -desire to scale this pinnacle. - -"It's a waste of time," said Rose; "let's go up the tower in the Liais -gardens." - -Side by side, they walked through the dismal streets. Rose kept on -looking at M. Hervart; she was disquieted by his silence. She took his -arm. - -"I didn't dare offer it to you," he said. - -"That's why I took it myself." - -"I do enjoy walking with you like this, Rose." - -But as a matter of fact he was most embarrassed. This privilege was at -once too innocent and too free. He wondered what he should do to keep -it within its present bounds. - -"If this is going on.... And to think it only started this morning...." - -He reassured himself by this most logical piece of reasoning: - -"Either I do or I don't want to marry her; in either case I shall -have to respect her.... That's evident. Being neither a fool nor a -blackguard, I have nothing to fear from myself. The civilised instinct; -I'm very civilised...." - -They were lightly clad. As he held her arm, he could feel its warmth -burning into his flesh. - -"Distressing fact! in love you can never be sure of anything or -anybody, least of all of yourself. I'm helpless in the hands of desire. -And then, at the same time as my own, I must calm down this child's -over-exited nerves. Nerves? No, feelings. Feelings lead anywhere.... -What a fool I am, making mental sermons like this! I'm spoiling -delicious moments." - -A house like all the others, a carriage door, a vaulted passage--and -behold, you were in a great garden, where the brilliance and scent -of exotic flowers burst from among the palm-trees, more intoxicating -to their senses than the familiar scents and colours of the copse at -Robinvast. Within the high walls of this strange oasis, the air hung -motionless, heavy and feverish. The flowers breathed forth an almost -carnal odour. - -"What a place to make love in," thought M. Hervart. - -He forgot all about Rose; his imagination called up the thought of -Gratienne and her voluptuousness. He shut out the sun, lit up the place -with dim far away lamps, spread scarlet cushions on the grass where a -magnolia had let fall one of its fabulous flowers, and on them fancied -his mistress.... He knelt beside her, bent over her beauty, covering it -with kisses and adoration. - -"This garden's making me mad," said M. Hervart aloud. The dream was -scattered. - -"Here's the tower," said Rose. "Let's go up. It will be cool on top." - -She too was breathing heavily, but from uneasiness, not from passion. -It was cool within the tower. In a few moments Rose, now freed from -her sense of sense of oppression, was at the top. She had quite well -realised that M. Hervart, absorbed in some dream of his own, had been -far away from her all the last part of their walk. Rose was annoyed, -and the appearance of M. Hervart, rather red in the face and with eyes -that were still wild, was not calculated to calm her. She felt jealous -and would have liked to destroy the object of his thought. - -M. Hervart noticed the little movement of irritation, which Rose had -been unable to repress, and he was pleased. He would have liked to be -alone. - -He went and and leaned on the balustrade and, without speaking, looked -far out over the blue sea. Seeing him once more absorbed by something -which was not herself, Rose was torn by another pang of jealousy; -but this time she knew her rival. Women have no doubts about one -another, which is what always ensures them the victory, but Rose now -pitted herself against the charm of the infinite sea. She took up her -position, very close to M. Hervart, shoulder to shoulder with him. - -M. Hervart looked at Rose and stopped looking at the sea. - -His eyes were melancholy at having seen the ironic flight of desire. -Rose's were full of smiles. - -"They are the colour of the infinite sea, Rose." - -"It's quite pleasant," thought M. Hervart, "to be the first man to say -that to a young girl.... In the ordinary way, women with blue eyes hear -that compliment for the hundredth time, and it makes them think that -all men are alike and all stupid.... It's men who have made love so -insipid.... Rose's eyes are pretty, but I ought not to have said so.... -Am I the first?..." - -M. Hervart felt the prick, ill defined as yet, of jealousy. - -"Who can have taught her these little physical complaisances? She -has no girl friends; it must have been some enterprising young -cousin.... What a fool I am, torturing myself! Rose has had girl -friends, at Valognes at the convent. She has them still, she writes -to them.... And besides, what do I care? I'm not in love; it's all -nothing more than a series of light sensations, a pretext for amusing -observations...." - -The afternoon was drawing on. They had to think of the commissions -which Mme. Des Boys had given them.... It was time to go down. - -"How dark the staircase is," said Rose. "Give me your hand." - -At the bottom, as though to thank him for his help, she offered her -cheek. His kiss settled on the corner of her mouth. Rose recoiled, -warned of danger by this new sensation that was too intimate, too -intense. But in the process of moving away, she came near to falling. -Her hands clutched at his, and she found herself once more leaning -towards M. Hervart. They looked at one another for a moment. Rose shut -her eyes and waited for a renewal of the burning touch. - -"I hope you haven't hurt yourself." - -She burst out laughing. - -"That," said M. Hervart to himself, "is what is called being -self-controlled. And then she laughs at me for it. Such are the fruits -of virtue." - -They went into almost all the shops in the Rue Fontaine, which is the -centre of this big outlandish village. M. Hervart bought some picture -post-cards. The castles in the Hague district are almost as fine and as -picturesque as those on the banks of the Loire. He would have liked to -send the picture of them to Gratienne, but he felt himself to be Rose's -prisoner. For a moment, that put him in a bad temper. Then, as Rose was -entering a draper's shop, he made up his mind; the post office was next -door. - -"I should like your advice," said Rose. "I have got to match some -wools." - -But he had gone. She waited patiently. - -The castles were at last dropped into the box and they continued their -course. The walk finished up at the confectioner's. - -One of Mr. Hervart's pleasures was eating cakes at a pastry cook's, and -the pleasure was complete when a woman was with him. He was a regular -customer at the shop in the Rue du Louvre, at the corner of the -square; he went there every day and not always alone. - -Entering the shop with Rose, he imagined himself in Paris, enjoying a -little flirtation, and the thought amused him. Rose was as happy as he. -Smiling and serious, she looked as though she were accomplishing some -familiar rite. - -"She would soon make a Parisian," M. Hervart thought, as he looked at -her. - -And in an instant of time, he saw a whole future unfolding before him. -They would live in the Quai Voltaire; she would often start out with -him in the mornings on her way to the Louvre stores. He would take her -as far as the arcades. She would come and pick him up for luncheon. On -other days, she would come into his office at four o'clock and they -would go and eat cakes and drink a glass of iced water; and then they -would walk slowly back by the Pont Neuf and the Quays; on the way they -would buy some queer old book and look at the play of the sunlight on -the water and in the trees. Sometimes they would take the steamer or -the train and go to some wood, not so wild as the Robinvast wood, but -pleasant enough, where Rose could breathe an air almost as pure as the -air of her native place.... - -There was not much imagination in this dream of M. Hervart's, for he -had often realised it in the past. But the introduction of Rose made of -it something quite new, a pleasure hitherto unfelt. - -"By the end of my stay I shall be madly in love with her and very -unhappy," he said to himself at last. - -A little while later they met M. Des Boys, who was looking for them. -While they were waiting at the station for the train, M. Hervart -examined his duplicate post-cards of the castles. - -"Why shouldn't we go and look at them?" said Rose, glancing at her -father. - -He acquiesced: - -"It will give me some ideas for the restoration of Robinvast, which I -think of carrying out." - -All that he meant to do was simply to set the place in order. He -would have the mortar repointed without touching the ivy, and while -preserving the wildness of the park and wood, he would have paths and -alleys made. - -"Art," he said sententiously, "admits only of a certain kind of -disorder. Besides, I have to think of public opinion; the disorder of -my garden will make people think that I am letting my daughter grow up -in the same way...." - -There was, in these words, a hint of marriage plans. Rose perceived it -at once. - -"I'm quite all right as I am," she said, "and so is Robinvast." - -"Vain little creature!" - -"Don't you agree with me?" said Rose, turning to M. Hervart with a -laugh that palliated the boldness of her question. - -"About yourself, most certainly." - -"Oh, there's nothing more to be done with me. The harm's done already; -I'm a savage. I'm thinking of the wildness of Robinvast; I like it and -it suits my wildness." - -"All the same," said M. Hervart, whose hands were covered with -scratches, "there are a lot of brambles in the wood. I've never seen -such fine ones, shoots like tropical creepers, like huge snakes...." - -"I never scratch myself," said Rose. - -But it was not without a feeling of satisfaction that she looked at M. -Hervart's hands, which were scarred with picking blackberries for her. -She whispered to him: - -"I'm as cruel as the brambles." - -"Defend yourself as well as they do," M. Hervart replied. - -It had been only a chance word. No doubt, M. Des Boys thought of -marrying his daughter, but the project was still distant. No suitor -threatened. M. Hervart was pleased with this state of affairs; for, -having fallen in love at ten in the morning, he was thinking now, at -seven, of marrying this nervous and sentimental child who had offered -the corner of her mouth to his clumsy kiss. - -The evenings at Robinvast were regularly spent in playing cards. -Trained from her earliest youth to participate in this occupation, -Rose played whist with conviction. She managed the whole game, scolded -her mother, argued about points with her father and kept M. Hervart -fascinated under the gaze of her gentle eyes. - -As soon as he sat down at the card table, he was conscious of this -fascination, which, up till then, had worked on him without his -knowledge. He remembered now that each time a chance had brought him -face to face with Rose, he had felt himself intoxicated by a great -pleasure. It was a kind of possession; spectators feel the same at the -theatre, when they see the actress of their dreams. He reflected too -that his own pleasure, almost unconscious though it had been, must have -expressed itself by fervent looks.... - -"Her heart responded little by little to the mysterious passion of my -eyes.... I have nice eyes too, I know; they are my best feature.... My -pleasure is easily explained; full face, Rose is quite divine, though -her profile is rather hard. Her nose, which is a little long, looks all -right from the front; her face is a perfect oval; her smile seems to be -the natural movement of her rather wide mouth, and her eyes come out in -the lamplight from their deep setting, like flowers.... I have often -stood in the same ecstasy before my lovely Titian Venus; it's true -that she displays other beauties as well, but her face and her eyes are -above all exquisite...." - -"Don't make signs at one another!" - -This observation, which had followed a too obvious exchange of smiles, -amused Rose enormously; for she had been thinking very little of the -game at the moment. She bowed her head innocently under the paternal -rebuke. - -They played extremely badly and lost a great number of points. - -At the change of partners they were separated; but separation united -them the better, for their knees soon came together under the table. -The game, under these conditions, became delicious. Rose did her -best to beat her lover and at the same time, delighting in the sense -of contrast, caressed him under the table. Life seemed to her very -delightful. - -She was a little feverish and it was late before she went to sleep, to -dream of this wonderful day when she had so joyously reached the summit -of her desires. She was loved; that was happiness. She did not for a -moment think of wondering whether she were herself in love. She had no -doubts on the state of her heart. - -M. Hervart's reflections were somewhat different. They also were -extremely confused. Women live entirely in the present; men much more -in the future--a sign, it may be, that there nature is not so well -organised. M. Hervart was making plans. He went to sleep in the midst -of his scheming, exhausted by his to make so much as one plan that -should be tenable. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -When he came down fairly early next morning, he found M. Des Boys, who -was usually invisible till lunch time, walking in the garden with his -daughter. He was gesticulating, largely. M. Hervart was alarmed. - -But they were not talking of him. M. Des Boys was planning a long -winding alley and was showing Rose how it would run. After consulting -M. Hervart, who was all eagerness in agreeing, he decided that they -should start their tour of the castles that very day. - -At the same time he sent for workmen to come the next day and wrote to -Lanfranc, the architect of Martinvast, a friend of whom he had lost -sight for a good many years. Lanfranc lived at St. Lô, where he acted -as clerk of the works to the local authorities. M. Hervart was also -acquainted with him. - -Meanwhile, M. Des Boys forgot his painting and stayed in the garden -nearly the whole morning. Rose was annoyed. She had counted on -repeating their yesterday's walk among the hollies and brambles, among -the foxgloves and through the bracken. She dreamed of how she would -take this walk every day of her life, believing that she would find it -eternally the same, as moving and as novel. - -M. Hervart, though he was grateful for this diversion, could not help -feeling certain regrets. He missed Rose's hand within his own. - -For a moment, as they were walking along the terrace, they found -themselves alone, at the very spot where the crisis had begun. - -Quickly, they took one another's hands and Rose offered her cheek. M. -Hervart made no attempt, on this occasion, to obtain a better kiss. It -was not the occasion. Perhaps he did not even think of it. Rose was -disappointed. M. Hervart noticed it and lifted the girl's hands to his -lips. He loved this caress, having a special cult for hands. He gave -utterance to his secret thought, saying: - -"How is it that I never yet kissed your hands?" - -Pleased, without being moved, Rose confined herself to smiling. Then, -suddenly, as an idea flashed through her mind, the smile broke into a -laugh, which, for all its violence, seemed somehow tinged with shyness. -Grown calmer, she asked. - -"I'd like to know ... to know.... I'd like to know your name." - -M. Hervart was nonplussed. - -"My name? But ... Ah, I see ... the other one." - -He hesitated. This name, the sound of which he had hardly heard since -his mother's death, was so unfamiliar to him that he felt a certain -embarrassment at uttering it. He signed himself simply "Hervart." All -his friends railed him by this name, for none had known him in the -intimacy of the family; even his mistresses had never murmured any -other. Besides, women prefer to make use of appellations suitable -to every one in general, such as "wolf," or "pussy-cat," or "white -rabbit"--M. Hervart, who was thin, had been generally called "wolf." - -"Xavier," he said at last. Rose seemed satisfied. - -She began eating blackberries as she had done the day before. M. -Hervart--just as he had done yesterday, opened his magnifying glass; -he counted the black spots on the back of a lady-bird, _coccinella -septempunctata_; there were only six. - -In the palm of her little hand, well smeared already with purple, Rose -placed a fine blackberry and held it out to M. Hervart. As he did not -lift his head, but still sat there, one eye shut, the other absorbed in -what he was looking at, she said gently, in a voice without affection, -a voice that was deliciously natural: - -"Xavier!" - -M. Hervart felt an intense emotion. He looked at Rose with surprised -and troubled eyes. She was still holding out her hand. He ate the -blackberry in a kiss and then repeated several times in succession, -"Rose, Rose...." - -"How pale you are!" she said equally moved. - -She stepped back, leant against the wall. M. Hervart took a step -forward. They were standing now, looking into one another's eyes. Very -serious, Rose waited. M. Hervart said: - -"Rose, I love you." - -She hid her face in her hands. M. Hervart dared not speak or move. He -looked at the hands that hid Rose's face. - -When she uncovered her face, it was grave and her eyes were wet. She -said nothing, but went off and picked a blackberry as though nothing -had happened. But instead of eating it, she threw it aside and, instead -of coming back to M. Hervart, she walked away. - -M. Hervart felt chilled. He stood looking at her sadly, as she smoothed -the folds of her dress and set her hat straight. - -When she reached the corner by the lilac bushes, Rose stopped, turned -round and blew a kiss, then, taking flight, she disappeared in the -direction of the house. - -The scene had lasted two or three minutes; but in that little space, M. -Hervart had lived a great deal. It had been the most moving instant of -his life; at least he could not remember having known one like it. At -the sound of that name, Xavier, almost blotted from his memory, a host -of charming moments from the past had entered his heart; he thought -of his mother's love, of his first declaration, his first caresses. -He found himself once more at the outset of life and as incapable of -mournful thoughts as at twenty. - -His whole manner suddenly changed. He hoisted himself on to the terrace -and, sitting on the edge in the dry grass, lit a cigarette and looked -at the world without thinking of anything at all. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -Their rapid intimacy did not leave off growing during the following -days. M. Des Boys never left the workmen who were making the new paths -and from moment to moment he would call his daughter or M. Hervart, -soliciting their approval. - -In the afternoons they would go and look at one of the castles in the -neighbourhood. - -They saw Martinvast, towers, chapel, Gothic arches, ingeniously adapted -so as to cover, without spoiling their lines, the flimsy luxury of -modern times. Tourlaville, though less old, looked more decayed under -its cloak of ivy. M. Hervart admired the great octagonal tower, the -bold lines of the inward-curving roofs. They saw Pepinbast, a thing of -lace-work and turrets, florid with trefoils and pinnacles. They saw -Chiflevast, a Janus, Gothic on one side and Louis XIV on the other. - -Nacqueville is old in parts; the main block seems to be contemporary -with Richelieu; as a whole, it is imposing, a building to which each -generation has added its own life without hiding the distant origins. - -Vast, which looks quite modern, occupies a pleasing site by the falls -of the Saire. It seemed more human than the others, whose hugeness and -splendour they had admired without a wish to possess. Here one could -give play to one's desire. - -"All the same," said M. Hervart, "it looks too much like a big cottage." - -M. Des Boys resolved to have a cascade at Robinvast. It was a pity that -he had nothing better than a stream at his disposal. - -They returned by La Pernelle, from which one can see all the eastern -part of the Hague, from Gatteville to St. Marcouf, a great sheet of -emerald green, bordered, far away by a ribbon of blue sea. - -They made a halt. Rose picked some heather, with which she filled M. -Hervart's arms. The eagerness of the air lit up her eyes, fired her -cheeks. - -"Isn't it lovely, my country?" - -A cloud hid the sun. Colour paled away from the scene; a shadow walked -across the sea, quenching its brilliance; but southward, towards the -isles of St. Marcouf, it was still bright. - -"A sad thought crossing the brow of the sea," said M. Hervart. "But -look...." - -Everything had suddenly lit up once again. - -Rose blew kisses into space. - -They had to go back towards St. Vast, where they had hired the -carriage. Thence, traveling by the little railway which follows the sea -for a space before it turns inland under the apple trees, they arrived -at Valognes. - -They dined at the St. Michel hotel. M. Des Boys was bored; he had begun -to find the excursion rather too long. But there were still a lot of -fine buildings to be looked at, Fontenay, Flamanville.... However, -those didn't mean such long journeys. - -"We have still got to go," said he, "to Barnavast, Richemont, the -Hermitage and Pannelier. That can be done in one afternoon." - -They did not get back to Robinvast till very late. The darkness in the -carriage gave M. Hervart his opportunity; his leg came into contact -with Rose's; under pretext of steadying the bundle of heather which -Rose was balancing on her knee, their hands met for an instant. - -Mme. Des Boys was waiting for them, rather anxiously. She kissed her -daughter almost frenziedly. Enervated, Rose burst out laughing, said -she wanted something to drink and, having drunk expressed a wish for -food. - -"That's it," said M. Hervart. "Let's have supper." - -He checked himself: - -"I was only joking; I'm not in the least hungry." - -But Rose found the idea amusing; she went in search of food, bringing -into the drawing-room every kind of object, down to a bottle of -sparkling cider she had discovered in a cupboard. - -"Hervart's a boy of twenty-five," said M. Des Boys as he watched his -friend helping Rose in her preparations. "I shall go to bed." - -"At twenty-five," said Hervart, "one doesn't know what to do with -one's life. One has all the trumps in one's hand, but one plays one's -cards haphazard, and one loses." - -"Does he talk of playing now?" said M. Des Boys, who was half asleep. -Rose burst out laughing. - -"Are you really going to bed?" asked Mme. Des Boys; she looked tired. -"I suppose I must stay here." - -But she was soon bored. It was half past twelve. She tried to get her -daughter to come. - -"Ten minutes more, mother." - -"All right, I'll leave you. I shall expect you in ten minutes." - -M. Hervart got up. - -"I give you ten minutes. Be indulgent with the child. All this fresh -air has gone to her head." - -M. Hervart felt embarrassed. A week ago such a _tête-a-tête_ would have -seemed the most innocent and perhaps, too, the most tedious of things. - -"I really don't know what may happen. I must be serious, cold; I must -try and look tired and antique...." - -As soon as she heard her mother's footsteps in the room above the -drawing-room, Rose came and sat down close to M. Hervart, put her hands -on the arm of his chair. He looked at her, and there was something of -madness in his eyes. He turned completely and laid his hands upon the -girl's hands. They moved, took his and pressed them, gently. Then, -without having had the time to think of what they were doing, they -woke up a second later mouth against mouth. This kiss exhausted their -emotion. With the same instinctive movement both drew back, but they -went on looking at one another. - -Decidedly, she was very pretty. She, for part, found him admirable, -thinking: - -"I belong to him. I have given him my lips. I am his. What will he do? -What shall I do?..." - -That was just what M. Hervart was wondering--what ought he to do? - -"What caresses are possible, what won't she object to? I should like -to kiss her lips again.... Her eyes? Her neck? Which of the Italian -poets was it who said: 'Kiss the arms, the neck, the breasts of your -beloved, they will not give you back your kisses. The lips alone,' But -I shall have to say something. Of course, I ought to say: 'Je vous -aime.' But I don't love her. If I did, I should have said: 'Je t'aime!' -and I should have said it without thinking, without knowing. - -"Rose, I love you." - -She shut her eyes, laid her head on the arm of the chair; for she was -sitting on a low stool. - -It was the ear that presented itself. M. Hervart kissed her ear slowly, -savouring it, kiss by kiss, like an epicure over some choice shell-fish. - -"She lets me do what I like. It's amusing...." - -He kissed his way round her ear and halted next to the eye, which was -shut. - -"How soft her eyelid is!" - -His lips travelled down her nose and settled at the corner of her -mouth. Tickled by their touch, she smiled. - -When he had thoroughly kissed the right side, she offered him the left; -then, giving her lips to him frankly, she received his kiss, returned -it with all her heart, and got up. - -She smiled without any embarrassment. She was happy and very little -disturbed. - -"There," she said to herself. "Now I'm married." - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -The paths were now visible. One of them, in front of the house, made -an oval round a lawn, which looked, at the moment, like a patch of -weeds, with all sorts of flowers in the uneven grass--buttercups, -moon-daisies, cranes-bill and centaury; there were rushes, too, and -nettles, hemlock and plants of lingwort that looked like long thin -girls in white hats. - -Encoignard, the gardener from Valognes, was contemplating this wildness -with a melancholy eye: - -"It will have to be ploughed, M. Des Boys, or at least well hoed. Then -we'll sift the earth we've broken up, level it down and sow ray-grass. -In two years it will be like a carpet of green velvet." - -Eyeing the landscape, he went on: - -"Lime trees! You ought to have a segoya here and over there an -araucaria. And what's that? An apple-tree. That's quite wrong. We'll -have that up and put a magnolia grandiflora there. You want an English -garden, don't you? An English garden oughtn't to contain anything but -exotic plants. Lilacs and roses.... Why not snow-ball trees? Ah, -there's a nice spotted holly. We might use that perhaps." - -"I don't want anyone to touch my trees," said Rose, who had drawn near. - -"She's right," said M. Des Boys. - -"Think of pulling up lilacs," Rose went on, "pulling up rose-trees." - -"But I mean to put prettier flowers in their place, Mademoiselle." - -"The prettiest flowers are the ones I like best." - -She picked a red rose and put it to her lips, kissing it as though it -were something sacred and adored. - -M. Des Boys looked at his daughter with astonishment. - -"Well, M. Encoignard, we must do what she wants. Hervart, what do you -think about it?" - -"I think that one ought to leave nature as unkempt as possible. I -also think that one ought to love the plants of the country where -one lives. They are the only ones that harmonise with the sky and the -crops, with the colour of the rivers and roads and roofs." - -"Quite right," said M. Des Boys. - -"Xavier, I love you," Rose whispered, taking M. Hervart's arm. - -The inspection of the garden was continued, and it was decided that M. -Encoignard's collaboration should be reduced to the ordinary functions -of a plain docile gardener. One or two new plants were admitted on -condition that the old should be respected. - -M. Hervart had got up early and had been strolling about the garden -for some time past. He had spent half the night in thought. All the -women he had loved or known had visited his memory with their customary -gestures and the attitudes they affected. There was that other one who -seemed always to have come merely to pay a friendly call; it needed -real diplomacy to obtain from her what, at the bottom of her heart, she -really desired. Between these two extremes there were many gradations. -Most of them liked to give themselves little by little, playing their -desire against their sense of shame M. Hervart flattered himself that -he knew all about women; he knew that who let herself be touched will -let herself be wholly possessed. - -"A woman," he said to himself, "who has been as familiar as Rose has -been, or even much less familiar, ought to be one who has surrendered -herself. Perhaps she might make me wait a few days more, but she would -belong to me, she would let her eyes confess it and her lips would -speak it out. Such a woman would even be disposed to hasten the coming -of the delightful moment, if I had not the wit to prepare it myself. -Rose, being a young girl and having only the dimmest presentiments of -the truth, does not know how to hasten our happiness; otherwise she -most certainly would hasten it. She belongs, then, to me. The question -to be answered is this: shall I go on smelling the rose on the tree, or -shall I pluck it?" - -The poetical quality of this metaphor seemed to him perhaps a little -flabby. He began to speak to himself, without actually articulating -the words, even in a whisper, in more precise terms. - -"Well, then, if I take her, I shall keep her. I have never thought of -marrying, but it's no good going against the current of one's life. It -may be happiness. Shall I lay up this regret for my old age: happiness -passed dose to me, smiling to my desire, and my eyes remained dull and -my mouth dumb? Happiness? Is it certain? Happiness is always uncertain. -Unhappiness too. And the fusing of these two elements makes a dull -insipid mixture." - -This commonplace idea occupied him for a while. Every joy is transient, -and when it has passed one finds oneself numb and neutral once again. - -"Neutral, or below neutral? A woman of this temperament? I can still -tame her? Yes, but what will happen ten years hence, when she is -thirty? Ah, well, till then...!" - -M. Des Boys carried off Encoignard into his study. Left alone, Rose and -M. Hervart had soon vanished behind the trees and shrubberies, had soon -crossed the stream. They almost ran. - -"Here we are at home," said Rose and, very calmly, she offered her lips -to M. Hervart. - -"She's positively conjugal already," thought M. Hervart. - -Nevertheless, this kiss disturbed his equanimity--the more so since -Rose, in gratitude no doubt to M. Hervart for his defence of her old -garden, kept her mouth a long time pressed to his. She was growing -breathless and her breasts rose under her thin white blouse. M. Hervart -was tempted to touch them. He made bold, and his gesture was received -without indignation. They looked at one another anxious to speak but -finding no words. Their mouths came together once more. M. Hervart -pressed Rose's breast, and a small hand squeezed his other hand. It -was a perilous moment. Realising this, M. Hervart tried to put an end -to the contact. But the little hand squeezed his own more tightly and -in a convulsive movement her knee came into contact with his leg. The -tension was broken. Their hands were loosened, they drew away from one -another, and for the first time after a kiss, Rose shut her eyes. - -M. Hervart felt a pain in the back of his neck. - -He began thinking of that season of Platonic love he had once passed -at Versailles with a virtuous woman, and he was frightened; for that -passion of light kisses and hand-pressures had undermined him as more -violent excesses had never done. - -"What will become of me?" he thought. "This is a case of acute -Platonism, marked by the most decisive symptoms. All or nothing! -Otherwise I am a dead man." - -He looked at Rose, meaning to put on a chilly expression; but those -eyes of her looked back at him so sweetly! - -His thoughts became confused. He felt a desire to lie down in the grass -and sleep, and he said so. - -"All right, lie down and sleep. I'll watch over you and keep the flies -away from your eyes and mouth. I'll fan you with this fern." - -She spoke in a voice that was caressingly passionate. It was like -music. M. Hervart woke up and uttered words of love. - -"I love you, Rose. The touch of your lips has refreshed my blood and -brought joy to my heart. When I first touched you, it was as though I -were clasping a treasure without price. But tell me, my darling, you -won't take back this treasure now you have given it?" - -M. Hervart was breathing heavily. Rose shook her head and said, "No, I -won't take it back;" and to prove that she meant it she leaned towards -him, as though offering her bosom; M. Hervart lightly touched the stuff -of her blouse with his lips. - -Seeing her lover's lack of alacrity, Rose, without suspecting the -mystery, at least guessed that there was a mystery. - -"No doubt," she thought, "love needs a rest every now and then. We will -go for a little walk and I'll talk to him of flowers and insects. We -should do well, perhaps, to go back to the garden, for it would be very -annoying if they took it into their heads to come and look for us." They -got up and walked round the wood meaning to go straight back to the -house. - -M. Hervart seemed to be in an absent-minded mood. He was holding Rose's -hand in his, but he forgot to squeeze it. His thoughts were, none the -less, thoughts of love. He looked about him as though he were searching -for something. - -"What are you looking for? Tell me; I'll look too." - -M. Hervart was looking for a nook. He inspected the dry leaves, peeped -into every nook and bower of the wood. But he felt ashamed of his quest. - -"Yet," he thought, "I must. I love her and these innocent amusements -are really too pernicious. Shall I go away? That would be to condemn -myself to a melancholy solitude, with, perhaps, bitter consolations. -Marry her, then? Certainly, but it can't come off to-morrow, and we are -too much aquiver with desire to wait patiently. And suppose, when we -are engaged, we have to submit ourselves to the law of the traditional -sentimentality.... No, let us be peasants, children of this kindly -earth. Let us, like them, make love first, at haphazard, where the -paths of the wood lead us; then, when we are certain of the consent of -our flesh, we will call our fellow men to witness." - -He went on looking and found what he wanted, but when he had found, he -started searching again, for he was ashamed of himself. - -"Perhaps," he thought, answering his own objections, "one may have to -behave like a cad in order to be happy. What, shall I submit myself -to the prejudices of the world at the moment when life offers to my -kisses a virgin who is unaware of them? I will have the courage of my -caddishness." - -Time passed and his eyes examined the heaps of leaves with decreasing -interest. His imagination returned pleasantly to the joys of a little -before, and he longed to be able to lay his trembling hand once more on -Rose's breast and to drink her breath in a kiss. - -M. Hervart was recovering all his self-possession. He concluded: - -"Well, it's very curious adventure and one that will increase the sum -of my knowledge and of my pleasures." - -Rose, feeling the pressure of his fingers, had the courage, at last, to -look at him. He smiled and she was reassured. - -"You won't leave me, will you?" she said. "Promise. When we are -married well live wherever you like, but till then, I want you near me, -in my house, in my garden, my woods, my fields. Do you understand?" - -"Child, I love you and I understand that you love me too." - -"Why 'too'? I loved you first; I don't like that word; it expresses a -kind of imitation." - -"It's true," said M. Hervart. "We fell in love simultaneously. But the -convention is that the man falls in love first and the woman does no -more than consent to his desires." - -"What can you want that I don't want myself?" - -"Delicious innocence!" thought M. Hervart. - -He went on: - -"But perhaps I want still more intimacy, complete surrender, Rose." - -"But am I not entirely yours? I want you in exchange, though, Xavier, I -want you, all of you." - -M. Hervart did not know what to say. He became quite shy. This charming -ingenuousness troubled his imagination more than the images of pleasure -itself. - -"She doesn't know," he thought. "She hasn't even dreamed of it. What -chastity and grace!" - -He answered: - -"I belong to you, Rose, with all my heart...." - -"What were you thinking of a moment ago? You seemed far away." - -"I was just feeling happy." - -"You must have had such a lot of happinesses since you began life, -Xavier. You have given happiness, received it...." - -"I have just lived," said M. Hervart. - -"Yes, and I'm only a girl of twenty." - -"Think of being twenty!" - -"If you were twenty, I shouldn't love you." - -M. Hervart answered only by a smile which he tried to make as young, as -delicate as possible. He knew what he would have liked to say, but he -felt that he could not say it. Besides, he wondered whether Rose and he -were really speaking the same language. - -"This conversation is really absurd. I tell her that I want her to -surrender herself to me, and she answers--at least I suppose that's -what she means--that she has given me her heart. Obviously, she has no -idea of what might happen between us.... What do these little caresses -mean to her? They're just marks of affection.... All the same there -was surely desire in her movements, her kisses, her eyes. And her body -trembled at the urgent touch of my lips. Yes, she knows what love is. -How ridiculous! All the same, if we go to work cleverly...." - -"You mustn't believe, Rose," he said out loud, "that I have ever yet -had occasion to give my heart. That doesn't always happen in the course -of a life; and when it does happen, it happens only once.... A man has -plenty of adventures in which his will is not concerned.... Man is an -animal as well as a man...." - -"And what about women?" - -"The best people agree," said M. Hervart, "that woman is an angel." - -Rose burst out laughing at this remark, apparently very innocently, and -said: - -"I can't claim to be an angel. It wouldn't amuse me to be one, either. -Angels--why, father puts them in his pictures. No, I prefer being a -woman. Would you love an angel?" - -M. Hervart laughed too. He explained that young girls had a right to -being called angels, because of their innocence.... - -"When one is in love, is one still innocent?" - -"If one still is, one doesn't remain so long." - -They could say no more. They had come back to the stream and there -they caught sight of M. Des Boys showing his domains to two gentlemen, -one of whom seemed to be of his own age, while the other looked about -thirty. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -M. Hervart soon recognised in one of the visitors a friend of old days, -Lanfranc, the architect. The young man, as he found out, was Lanfranc's -nephew, pupil and probable successor. He was further informed that the -two architects were installed in the old manor house of Barnavast, the -restoration of which they had undertaken on behalf of Mme. Suif, widow -of that famous Suif who gave such a fine impulse to the art of mortuary -and religious sculpture. Lanfranc, who had patched and painted every -church in Normandy, had for twenty years bought his materials at Suif's -and the widow had always appreciated him. Hence this job at Barnavast -which would round off his fortune, make it possible for him to return -to Paris and achieve a place in the Institute. - -As soon as they had settled down in the shade of the chestnut trees -on the rustic seat, Lanfranc began telling the story of Mme. Suif, -a story that was well known to every one. Rose listened attentively. -The moment Lanfranc could collect a friendly audience he always told -the story of Mme. Suif. It was in some degree his own story too. Mme. -Suif had been his mistress, then he had married, then he had resumed -relations with her and had, with the cooling of their passion, remained -her friend. - -"Ah! If I hadn't been so childish as to marry for love, I would marry -Mme. Suif's millions to-day, for Mme. Suif would be grateful to any man -who would relieve her of her name. Being an architect of churches and -ancient monuments, I could hardly get divorced, could I? But of course -she may be willing to call herself Mme. Leonor Varin. For she looks at -my nephew with no unfavourable eye!" - -"Thanks, I don't want her," said Leonor, blushing. - -Rose had looked at him and he had suddenly felt quite ashamed of his -secret cupidity. - -Leonor, who was nearly thirty, looked older from a distance and -younger from close at hand. He was large, rather massive and slow -in his movements. But when one came near him one was surprised at -the sentimental expression of his eyes, surprised at the youthful -appearance of a beard that still seemed to be newly sprouting, at the -awkwardness of his gestures and, when he spoke, the abrupt shyness of -his speech; for he could hardly open his mouth without blushing. It is -true that the moment after he would frown and contract his whole face -into an expression of harshness. But the eyes remained blue and gentle -in this frowning mask. Leonor was a riddle for everybody, including -himself. He liked pondering, and when he thought of love it was to come -to the conclusion that his ideal hovered between the daydream and the -debauch, between the happiness of kissing, on bended knees, a gloved -hand and the pleasure of lying languidly in the midst of a troop of -odalisques of easy virtue. He had no suspicion that he was like almost -all other men. He was afraid of himself and contemptuous too, when he -caught himself thinking too complacently of Mme. Suif's millions, -those millions that would give immediate satisfaction to his vices and, -later on, to his sentimental aspirations. - -He looked at Rose in his turn, but Rose did not drop her eyes. -Meanwhile, M. Hervart was growing bored. - -"Mme. Suif," said Lanfranc, "is still quite well preserved. For -instance...." - -"Rose dear," interrupted M. Des Boys, "doesn't your mother want you?" - -"Oh, no, I'm sure she doesn't. Mother would only find me in the way." - -"Your father is right, Rose," said M. Hervart glad to make trial of his -authority. - -She did not dare oppose her lover's wish, but she felt angry as she -rose to go. - -"Acting like my master already!" she thought. "I should so like to -listen to M. Lanfranc...." - -She dared not add: "... and to look at this M. Leonor and be looked -at by him and still more, to hear them talk of Mme. Suif. What was he -going to say? Oh, I don't want to know!" - -She entered the house, came out again by another door and hid herself -in a shrubbery from which she could hear their voices quite clearly. - -"It's not only her shoulders," M. Lanfranc was saying, "they're not the -only things about her that tempt one. She's forty-five, but her figure -is still good and not too excessively run to flesh. As a whole she is -certainly a bit ample, but at the Art School one could still make a -very respectable Juno of her. I've seen worse on the model's throne...." - -"Time," said M. Hervart, "often shows angelical clemency. He pardons -women who have been good lovers." - -"And still are," said Lanfranc. - -"There's no better recreation than love," said Leonor. "No sport more -suited to keep one fit and supple." - -M. Hervart looked in surprise at this dim young man who had so -unexpectedly made a joke. Anxious to shine in his turn, he replied: "No -one has ever dared to put that in a manual of hygiene. What a charming -chapter one could make of it, in the style of the First Empire: 'Love, -the preserver of Beauty.'" - -"A pretty subject too for the Prix de Rome," said Lanfranc. - -"Seriously," broke in M. Des Boys, "I believe that the thing that so -quickly shrivels up virtuous women in chastity." - -"Virtuous women!" said Lanfranc, "they're mean to reproduce the -species. When they have had their children, and that must take place -between twenty and thirty, their rôle is finished." - -"The only thing left for them to do," said M. Des Boys, "is to concoct -philters to keep us young." - -The others looked at him interrogatively; he laughed. - -"You will see, or rather you'll taste, and you will understand. I wish -you all as good a magician as Mme. Des Boys." - -"True," said M. Hervart, understanding him at last, "she has a real -genius for cookery. Dinners of her planning are regular love-potions." - -"You'll realise that when you get back to Paris." - -"Yes, when I get back to Paris. I am taking a holiday here," said M. -Hervart, pleased at this mark of confidence. He even added, so as to -guard against possible suspicions: - -"A holiday from love is not without a certain melancholy." - -Rose had found it all very amusing, but when her father began speaking -she stopped listening. Leonor, pleased at having made a witty remark, -and afraid of not being able to think of another, had got up and was -walking about the garden. Rose looked at him. The sight of this young -animal interested her. And what curious words about love had issued -from that mouth! So love was an exercise like tennis, or bicycling, or -riding! What a revelation! And the most singular fancies took shape in -her mind as she followed with her eyes the now distant figure of this -ingenious and decisive young man. - -"How do people play the game of love," she wondered, "real love? -Xavier teaches me nothing. He knows all about it though, more probably -than this young Leonor, but he takes care not to tell me. He treats -me like a little girl, while he makes fun of my innocence. Oh! it's -gentle fun, because he loves me; but all the same he rather abuses his -superior position. A sport, a sport...." - -Quitting the shrubbery, she went and sat down on an old stone bench in -a lonely corner, from which she could keep a watch between the trees on -all that was happening in the neighbourhood. She was fond of this nook -and in it, before M. Hervart's arrival, she had spent whole mornings -dreaming alone. She laughed at the childishness of those dreams now. - -"It always seemed to me," she thought, "that the branches were just -about to open, making way for some beautiful young cavalier.... Without -saying a word, he would bring his horse to stop at my side, would lean -down, pick me up, lay me across the saddle and off we would go. Then -there was to be a mad, furious, endless gallop, and in the end I should -go to sleep. And in reality I used to wake up as though from a sleep, -even though I hadn't dropped off. Nothing happened but this dumb ride -in the blue air, and yet, when I came to myself, I felt tired.... How -often I have dreamed this dream! How often have I seen the lilac -plumes bending to make way for my lovely young knight and his black -horse! The horse was always black. I remember very little of the face -of the Perseus who delivered me, for a few hours at least, from the -bondage of my boring existence.... A sport? That was indeed a sport! -What did he do with his Andromeda, this Perseus of mine? I've never -been able to find out. What do Perseuses do with their Andromedas?" - -To this question Rose's tireless imagination provided, for the -hundredth time, a new series of answers. The imagination of a young -girl who knows and yet is ignorant of what she desires has an -Aretine-like fecundity. - -Into all these imaginations of hers Rose now introduced the complicity -of M. Hervart. Even at the moment when she was on the lookout for -Leonor's return, it was really of M. Hervart that she was thinking. -Leonor was to be nothing more than a stimulant for her heart and her -nerves, a musical accompaniment to something else. The stimulation -which the young man's arrival had brought to her went to the profit of -M. Hervart. - -"Xavier," she murmured, "Xavier...." - -Xavier, meanwhile, was congratulating himself that his paternal -intervention had spared Rose's ears the hearing of those over-frank -remarks of M. Lanfranc. The architect would of course have toned down -his language; but is it good that a young girl should learn the use -that wives make of marriage? He said: - -"M. Lanfranc, keep an eye on your language at table. Don't forget that -we have a young girl with us." - -"Yes," said M. Des Boys "I sent her away from here, but that would -hardly be possible during luncheon." - -"Girls," said Lanfranc, "understand nothing." - -"They guess," said M. Hervart. - -M. Des Boys had no opinions on maiden perspicacity, but he desired to -conform to custom and allow his daughter to listen only to the choicest -conversation. - -"Well, then," said Lanfranc, "let us profitably employ these moments -while we are alone." His lively blue eyes lit up his tanned face. - -The conversation had deviated once more in the direction of Mme. Des -Boys' administrative merits. - -"One meets so many different kinds of women," said M. Hervart. "The -best of them is never equal to the dream one makes up about them." - -"Silly commonplace," he thought. "What answer will he make to that?" - -"I don't dream," said Lanfranc, "I search. But I scarcely ever find. -Adventures have always disappointed me. That's why Paris is the only -place for love affairs. One can find plenty of pleasant romances there -with only one chapter--the last." - -"Your opinion of women ceases to astonish me then!" - -"His opinion is very reasonable," said M. Des Boys. "You talk as though -you were still twenty-five, Hervart." - -He reddened a little. - -"Me! Oh no, thank God! I'm forty." - -And seeing the appropriateness of the occasion, he added: - -"You're jealous of my liberty, but I am becoming afraid that I may lose -it." - -"Are you thinking of marriage?" asked Lanfranc. - -"Perhaps." - -"Mme. Suif would suit you very well. Leonor is being coy about her...." - -Irritated by so much vulgarity, M. Hervart got up and walked into the -garden. Rose and Leonor were strolling there together. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -Rose had laid her plans in such a fashion that the young man had -found her in his path. Not to see her was too deliberately to avoid -her. If he saw her, he had to take off his hat. And this was what -had happened. Rose had answered his salutation by a word of welcome; -conversation had then passed to the old house at Barnavast, finally to -Mme. Suif. But Leonor was discreet and vague, so much so that at one of -Rose's questions the conversation had switched off on to sentimental -commonplaces. But, for Rose, nothing in the world was commonplace yet. - -"Isn't she rather old to marry again?" she asked. - -"Ah, but Mme. Suif is one of those whose hearts are always young." - -"Then there are some hearts that grow old more slowly than others?" - -"Some never grow old at all, just as some have never been young." - -"All the same, I see a great difference, when I look around me, between -the feelings of young and old people." - -"Do you know many people?" - -"No, very few; but I have always seen a correspondence between people's -hearts and faces." - -"Certainly; but a general truth, although it may represent the average -of particular truths, is hardly ever the same as a single particular -case selected by chance...." - -Rose looked at Leonor with a mixture of admiration and shame: she did -not understand. Leonor perceived the fact and went on: - -"I mean that there are, in all things, exceptions. I also mean that -there are rules which admit of a great number of exceptions. It even -happens in life, just as in grammar, that the exceptional are more -numerous than the regular cases. Do you follow?" - -"Oh, perfectly." - -"But that," he concluded, emphasising his words, "does not prevent the -rule's being the rule, even though there were only two normal cases as -against ten exceptions." - -Rose liked this magisterial tone. M. Hervart had, for some time, done -nothing but agree with her opinions. - -"But how does one recognise the rule?" she went on. - -"Rules," said Leonor, "always satisfy the reason." - -Rose looked at him in alarm; then, pretending she had understood, made -a sign of affirmation. - -"Women never understand that very well," Leonor continued. "It doesn't -satisfy them. They yield only to their feelings. So do men, for that -matter, but they don't admit it. So that women accused of hypocrisy -and vanity have less of these vices, it may be, than men.... At any -rate the rule is the rule. The rule demands that Marguerite should give -up...." - -"Who's Marguerite?" - -"Mme. Suif." - -"Do you know her well?" - -Leonor smiled. "Am I not the nephew and lieutenant of her architect? -The rule, then, would demand that Marguerite should give up love; and -the rule further demands, Mademoiselle, that you should begin to think -of it." - -"The rule is the rule," said Rose sententiously, suppressing the shouts -of laughter that exploded silently in her heart. - -"The rule's not so stupid after all," she thought. "I don't ask -anything better than to obey it...." - -At this moment M. Hervart came face to face with them at the turn of -a path. Rose welcomed him with a happy smile, a smile of delicious -frankness. - -"Good," thought M. Hervart, "he isn't my rival yet. My rôle for the -moment is to act the part of the man who is sure of himself, the -man who possesses, dominates, the lord who is above all changes and -chances...." - -And he began to talk of his stay at Robinvast and of the pleasure he -found in the midst of this rich disorderly scene of nature. - -"But you," he said, "have come to put it in order. You have come -to whiten these walls, scrape off this moss and ivy, cut clearings -through these dark masses, and you will make M. Des Boys a present of a -brand-new castle with a charming and equally brand-new park." - -"Who's going to touch my ivy?" exclaimed Rose, indignantly. - -"Why should it be touched," said Leonor. "Isn't ivy the glory of the -walls of Tourlaville? Ivy--why, it's the only architectural beauty -that can't be bought. At Barnavast, which is in a state of ruin, we -always respect it when the wall can be consolidated from inside. To my -mind, restoration means giving back to a monument the appearance that -the centuries would have given it if it had been well looked after. -Restoration doesn't mean making a thing look new; it doesn't consist in -giving an old man the hair, beard, complexion and teeth of a youth; it -consists in bringing a dying man back to life and giving him the health -and beauty of his age." - -"How glad I am to hear you talk like this," said Rose. "I hope M. -Lanfranc shares your ideas." - -"M. Lanfranc is completely converted to my ideas." - -"My father will do nothing without consulting me, but I shall feel -more certain of getting my way if you are my ally." - -"I will be your ally then." - -"Yours is a sensible method," said M. Hervart. "You may know that I -am the keeper of the Greek sculpture at the Louvre. I entered that -necropolis at a time when the old system of restoration had begun to -be abandoned. They were oscillating between two methods--re-making or -doing nothing. The second has prevailed. You will have noticed that our -marbles can be divided into two groups: those which have no antiquity -but in the name, and those which have no antiquity except in the -material. In old days, when they had found a bust, they manufactured -a new head for it, new arms and new legs; then they wrote underneath: -'Artemis (restored), Minerva (restored), Nymph with a bow (restored),' -according to the fancy of the cast-maker or as they were guided by a -somnolent archæology. I think that they certainly filled some gaps in -this way. If the system had gone on being followed, we should doubtless -be in possession at the present time of a complete Olympus; while as -it is there are plenty of empty places left in the assembly of our -gods. Since we decided to do nothing, our galleries have grown rich -in curious anatomical odds and ends--legs and hands that look like -those ex-voto offerings that used, as a matter of fact, to hang in -Greek sanctuaries; heads that look as though they had, like Orpheus's -head, been rolled by storms among the pebbles of the sea; busts so -full of holes that they seem to have served as targets for drunken -soldiers. In short nothing comes to us now but fragments--fragments -of great archæological interest, but whose value as works of art is -almost nothing. Wouldn't some intermediate method be preferable? By -intermediate I mean intelligent. Intelligence is the art of reconciling -ideas and producing a harmony. A head of Aphrodite with a broken nose -ceases to be a head of Aphrodite. I ask for beauty and they give me a -museum specimen. If they want me to admire it, they must make a new -nose; if they don't want to make a new nose, then they must divide up -the Louvre into two museums, the æsthetic museum and the archæological -museum." - -Having finished speaking, he looked first of all at Rose, thus showing -that he had need, before everything else, of her approbation. Rose's -face lit up with happiness. Her eyes answered, "My dear, I admire you. -You're a god." - -These movements were understood by Leonor, who had been trying for some -few moments to guess what were the relations between Rose and Hervart. - -"They are in love," he said to himself. "Hervart has a genius for -making love. I am twenty-eight, which is my only point of superiority -over him. And even that is very illusory, for it is only women who -know something about life, whether through experience or through the -confidences of some one else, who pay any attention to a man's age. A -woman is as old as her face: a man is as old as his eyes. Hervart has a -pair of fine blue eyes, gentle and lively, ardent. But what do I care? -I don't desire the good graces of this innocent." - -While reflecting thus, he had answered M. Hervart, "I quite agree with -you. People tend too much to-day to confound the curious, rare or -antique with the beautiful. The æsthetic sense has been replaced by a -feeling of respect." - -"The process was perhaps inevitable," said M. Hervart. "In any case it -suits a democracy. People have no time to learn to admire, but one can -very quickly learn to respect. The intelligence is docile, but taste is -recalcitrant." - -"But aren't there such things," Rose asked, "as spontaneous -admirations?" - -"Yes," said Leonor, "there's love." - -"Then is admiration the same as love?" - -"If they don't yet love, people come very near loving when they admire." - -"And is love admiration?" - -"Not always." - -"Love," said M. Hervart, "is compatible with almost all other feelings, -even with hatred." - -"Yes," replied Leonor, "that has the appearance of being true, for -there are many kinds of love. The love that struggles with hatred can -only be a love inspired by interest or sensuality." - -"One never knows. I hold that love, just as it is capable of taking -any shape or form, can devour all other feelings and install itself -in their place. It comes and it goes, without one's ever being able -to understand the mechanism of its movements. It lasts two hours or a -whole life.... - -"You are mixing up the different species," said Leonor. "You must, if -we are to understand one another, allow words to keep their traditional -sense with all its shades of meaning. Love is at the base of all -emotions either as a negative or positive principle; one can say that, -and when one has said it one is no forwarder. Do you think there's no -point in the way verbal usage employs the words 'passion, caprice, -inclination, taste, curiosity' and other words of the kind? It would -surely be better to create new shades, rather than set one's wits to -work to dissolve all the colours and shades of sensation and emotion -into a single hue." - -Like a village musician plunged into the midst of a discussion on -counterpoint and orchestration, Rose listened, a little disquieted, a -little irritated, but at the same time fascinated. They were speaking -of something that filled her heart and set her nerves tingling; she did -not understand, she felt. She would have liked to understand. - -"Xavier will explain it all to me. How silly I look in the middle of -the conversations where I can't put in a word." - -She pretended to desire a rose out of reach of her hand. M. Hervart -darted forward, reached the flower and set to work to strip the branch -of its thorns and its superfluous wood and leaves. - -"That was not the one I wanted," said Rose. - -M. Hervart began again and the girl looked on, happy at having been -able to interrupt a serious conversation by a mere whim. - -Leonor examined them with a certain irony. Rose noticed his look, felt -herself blushing and slipped away. - -M. Hervart and Leonor continued their stroll and their chat; but they -talked no more about love. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -Luncheon passed agreeably for Rose. She was the centre of looks, -desires and conversation. M. Lanfranc gallanted without bad taste. -She would laugh and then, with sudden seriousness, accept the contact -of some gesture of M. Hervart's, who was sitting next to her. Leonor -confined himself to a few curt phrases, which were meant to sum up the -more ingenuous remarks of his fellow guests. He had thought he could -treat this girl with contempt, but her eyes, he found, excited him. By -dint of trying to seem a superior being, he succeeded in looking like a -thoroughly disagreeable one. Rose was frightened of him. - -"How cold he is," she thought. "One could never talk or play with a man -so sure of all his movements. He would always win." - -Several times, with innocent unconsciousness, she looked at M. Hervart. - -"How well I have chosen! Here is a man who is younger than he, nearer -my own age, and yet each of his words and gestures brings me closer to -Xavier. I feel that it will be always like that. Who can compete with -him? Xavier, I love you." - -She leaned forward to reach a jug and as she did so whispered full in -M. Hervart's face, "Xavier, I love you." - -M. Hervart pretended to choke. His redness of face was put down to a -cherry stone; Lanfranc gave vent to some feeble joking on the subject. - -As luncheon was nearing its end, she said with a perverse frankness: - -"M. Hervart, will you come with me and see if everything's all right -down in the garden?" - -"I am having coffee served out of doors," Mme. Des Boys explained. - -Lanfranc expatiated on the beauties of this country custom. - -As soon as they were hidden from view behind the shrubbery, Rose, -without a word, took M. Hervart by the shoulders and offered him her -lips. It was a long kiss. Xavier clasped the girl in his arms and with -a passion in which there was much amorous art, drank in her soul. - -When he lifted his head, he felt confused: - -"I have been giving the kiss of a happy lover, when what was asked for -was a betrothal kiss. What will she think of me?" - -Rose was already looking at the rustic table. When M. Hervart rejoined -her, she greeted him with the sweetest of smiles. - -"Was that what she wanted then?" M. Hervart wondered. - -"Rose," he said aloud, "I love you, I love you." - -"I hope you do," she replied. - -"Oh, how I should like to be alone with you now!" - -"I wouldn't. I should be afraid." - -This answer set M. Hervart thinking: "Does she know as much about it as -all that? Is it an invitation?" - -His thought lost itself in a tangle of vain desires. But for the very -reason that the moment was not propitious, he let himself go among the -most audacious fancies. His eyes wandered towards the dark wood, as -though in search of some favourable retreat. He made movements which he -never finished. Raising himself from his chair, he let himself fall -back, fidgeted with an empty cup, searched vainly for a match to light -his absent cigarette. The arrival of Leonor calmed him. His fate that -day was to embark on futile discussions with this young man, and he -accepted his destiny. - -Every one was once more assembled. The conversation was resumed on the -tone it had kept up at luncheon; but Rose was dreaming, and M. Hervart -had a headache. It was all so spiritless, despite the enticements of M. -Lanfranc, that M. Des Boys lost no time in proposing a walk. - -"If you want us," said Leonor, "to draw up a plan for the -transformation of your property, you must show it to us in some detail. -Is this wood to be a part of your projected park? And what's beyond it? -Another estate, or meadows, or ploughed fields? What are the rights of -way? Do you want a single avenue towards Couville? One could equally -well have one joining the St. Martin road.... - -"Do you intend to lay waste this wood?" asked Rose. "It's so beautiful -and wild." - -"My dear young lady," said Leonor, "I intend to do nothing; that is to -say, I only intend to please you...." - -"Do what my daughter wants," said M. Des Boys. "You're here for her -sake." - -"For her sake," Mme. Des Boys repeated. - -"Oh, well," said Leonor, "we shall get on very well then." - -"So I hope," said Rose. - -"I am at your orders," said Leonor. - -"Come on then," said Rose. - -With these words she got up, throwing M. Hervart a look which was -understood. But as M. Hervart rose to his feet, Mme. Des Boys -approached him: - -"I have something very interesting to tell you." - -M. Hervart had to let Rose and Leonor plunge alone into the wood in -which he had, during these last few days, experienced such delightful -emotions. Mme. Des Boys took him into the garden. - -"I have a question to ask you," she said. "First of all, is -architecture a serious profession?" - -"Very," said M. Hervart. - -"But do people make really a lot of money at it?" - -"Lanfranc, who was a beggar when I first knew him, is probably richer -than you are to-day. Leonor will go even further, I should think, for -he seems an intelligent fellow and knows a lot about his business." - -"You're not speaking out of mere friendship for him?" - -"Not at all. Far from it; to tell you the truth I'm not very fond of -either of them." - -"But they're thorough gentlemen and very good company." - -"Certainly, Lanfranc especially." - -"Isn't he amusing? His nephew is more severe, but I prefer it." - -"So do I." - -"I'm glad to see that you agree with me." - -She continued after a moment's reflection. "He would be an excellent -husband for Rose." - -Hervart did not reply. He had grown pale and his heart had begun -beating violently. His thoughts were in confusion; his head whirled. - -"What do you think of the idea?" Mme. Des Boys insisted. - -He withheld his answer, for he knew that his voice would seem quite -changed. He murmured; "Hum," or something of the sort, something that -simply meant that he had heard the question. - -But bit by bit he recovered. The happy idea came to him that time. Des -Boys was a nullity in the family and had little influence over her -daughter. - -"Nothing that she says has any importance. I'll agree with her." - -"I entirely agree with you," he pronounced, - -"My daughter's a curious creature," went on Mme. Des Boys, "but your -approbation will perhaps be enough to convince her. You have a great -deal of influence over her." - -"I?" - -"She's very fond of you. It's obvious." - -"I'm such an old friend," said M. Hervart courageously. - -His cowardice made him blush. - -"Why shouldn't I confess? Why not say, 'Yes, she does like me, and I -like her, why not?' Isn't my desire evident? Can I go away, leave her, -do without her?..." But to all these intimate questions M. Hervart did -not dare to give a definite answer. - -"What I should like is that the present moment should go on for -ever...." - -"They have hardly spoken to one another, and yet," Mme. Des Boys -continued, "I seem to see between them the beginnings of ... what?... -how shall I put it?..." - -"The beginnings of an understanding," prompted M. Hervart with ironic -charity. "Why not love? There's such a thing as love at first sight." - -"Oh, Rose is much too well bred." - -The silliness of this woman, so reasonable and natural, none the less, -in her rôle of mother, exasperated M. Hervart even more than the -insinuations to which he had been obliged to listen. Ceasing, not to -hesitate, but to reflect, he said abruptly: - -"I shall be very sorry to see her married." - -Mme. Des Boys pressed his hand: - -"Dear friend! yes, it will make a big difference in our home." - -She went on, after a moment's hesitation: - -"Not a word about all this, dear Hervart; you understand. And now I -think that the _tête-a-tête_ has perhaps gone on long enough; it would -be very nice of you if you'd go and join them." - -M. Hervart, impatient though he was, made his way slowly through the -meanders of the little copse. Like Panurge, he kept repeating to -himself, "Marry her? or not marry her?" - -His head was a clock in which a pendulum swung indefatigably. He sat -down on the little bench where, for the first time, he had fell the -girl's head coming gently to rest on his shoulder. He wanted to think. - -"I must come to a decision," he said to himself. - -Leonor had noticed that, from the moment their walk had begun, Rose was -on the alert at the slightest noise. - -"She expects him. That means he'll come. So much the better. I -care very little about this schoolgirl. We're alone now; no more -compliments. I'm simply a landscape gardener at the orders of Mlle. -Rose Des Boys. What a name!..." - -He looked at the girl. - -"After all, the name isn't so ridiculous as one might think. She is -so fresh, she looks so pure. How curious they are, these innocent -beings who go through life with the grace of a flower blossoming by the -wayside.... But let's get on with our job.... - -"The taste of the day, mademoiselle, inclines towards the French -style of garden. Some compromise, at least, is necessary between the -sham naturalness of the English park and the rigidity of geometrical -designs.... - -"Tell me what your compromise is." - -"But I don't know the ground yet." - -"It isn't big, you know. In a quarter of an hour you will have an idea -of the place as a whole." - -Leonor continued his dissertation on the art of the garden for a -little, but he was perfectly aware that he was not being listened to. -Finally he said: - -"Nature must obey man; but a reasonable man only asks of her that she -should allow herself to be admired or to be loved. Those who wish to -admire are inclined to impose certain sacrifices upon her. Those who -love ask less and are content, provided they find an easy access to the -sites that please them. But I should imagine that women demand more. -They want nature to be tamer, they want to see her utterly conquered; -they want landscapes in which you can see the mark of their power...." - -"What a curious conversation," Rose said to herself. "Here's an -architect who would get on my nerves if I had to pass my life in his -company...." - -This idea made her think more urgently of M. Hervart. She turned her -head, questioning the narrow alleys where the sunlight filtered through -in little drops. - -"She's thinking of her dear Xavier," thought Leonor. "What subject can -I think of to hold her attention? Obviously, my remarks have so far -interested her very little." - -A man, however cold he may voluntarily make himself, however -self-controlled he may be by nature, is scarcely capable of going -for a walk alone with a young woman without wishing to please. He is -equally incapable of keeping his presence of mind sufficiently to be -able to look at himself acting and not to make mistakes. But how can -one please? Can it be done by rule, particularly with a young girl? -Women are hardly capable of anything but total impressions. They do not -distinguish, for instance, between cleverness and intelligence, between -facility and real power, between real and apparent youthfulness. If -one pleases them, one pleases in one's entirety, and as soon as one -does please them, one becomes their sacred animal. Leonor had an -inspiration. Instead of expounding his own ideas on gardens, he set to -work to repeat, in different terms, what Rose had said that morning: - -"What I have been expounding," he said, "doesn't seem to interest you -much. But you see, I must do my job, which is to back up M. Lanfranc. -Personally, I agree with you. If there are weak spots in your house, -the nearest mason can put on the necessary plaster, stone and mortar. -As for the garden and the wood, I should do nothing except make a few -paths so that I might walk without fear of dew or brambles." - -"Now you're being sensible. Very well then, I shall tell my father that I -shall make arrangements with you alone. You will come back here and we -will do nothing, almost nothing." - -"I shall come back with pleasure and I shall do nothing; but if I have -not made you dislike me I shall consider that I have done a great deal." - -"But I don't dislike you. When people agree with me, I never dislike -them." - -"But how can people fail to agree with you when you say such sensible -things?" - -"Oh, that's very easy. M. Hervart doesn't dispose with disagreement. He -contradicts me, laughs at me." - -"Good," thought Leonor, "she's in love with Hervart; then she likes -being contradicted and even laughed at a little. Or perhaps she's -lying, so as to make me believe that Hervart is indifferent to her. -Let's try and get a rise." - -"At this age that sort of thing is permissible." - -"That's why I don't get cross." - -"And besides, he's very nice." - -"Oh, so nice; I'm very fond of him." - -"It doesn't take," thought Leonor. "Hervart, to her, is a god and we -might go on talking till to-morrow without her understanding a single -one of my insinuations or ironies." - -He went on, nevertheless, picking out all the spiteful things that can -be said with politeness. - -"Old bachelors often have manias...." - -"That's what I often tell him. For instance, his taste for insects.... -But it amuses him so." - -"She's invulnerable," said Leonor to himself. - -"And then he knows life. He has lived so much." - -"That's true. Sometimes, when he's speaking to me, I fed as though a -whole world were opening before me." - -"He knows all there is to be known, the arts and the sciences, -friendship and love, men, women.... He's seen a lot of them and of -every variety." - -This time it was Rose who paused a moment to reflect, then: - -"That's why I have such immense confidence in him. It's a real -happiness for me that he should come and spend his holidays here. I -have learnt more in these few weeks than in all the other years of my -life." - -Leonor looked at Rose. He felt a powerful emotion, for to be loved like -this seemed to him the height of felicity. He had never believed that -it was possible to inspire a young girl with such ingenuous confidence. -And how frank she was! What a divine simplicity! - -"How does one make oneself so much loved? What's his secret? Ah! if only -I dared ask more! But now, I don't even want to try and violate an -intimacy so charming to contemplate. I'm looking at happiness, and it's -such a rare sight." - -He glanced at Rose once more. - -"And with all that she's very pretty. How graceful she is under this -aspect of wildness! What suppleness of form! Everything down to her -complexion, gilded and freckled like an apple by the sun, looks lovely -in these country surroundings. How well a wife like this would suit -me; for I belong to this country and am destined to live here. Why -couldn't Hervart have stayed among his Parisian women?" - -"He must be very fond of you," he went on, "and I envy his happiness -in being allowed to be your friend. I shall come back, since you so -desire, but I would rather not come back." - -"Why?" - -"Because I don't want to displease you." - -"But it won't displease me; far from it. Do explain." - -"If I come back, perhaps, I shan't have the strength of mind not to -grow fond of you, and that will make you angry." - -"But why? How odd you are! Make yourself a friend of the house. I shall -be very pleased." - -"But then I shan't be able to like you as you like M. Hervart." - -"Oh! I don't think that would be possible." - -"And you won't like me as you like him." - -She broke into such ingenuous laughter that Leonor assured himself -that she had not understood anything of his insinuations. However, he -was wrong, and her laughter proved it. She had laughed just because -the idea had suddenly come to her that another man might have played -Xavier's part in what had happened. The idea seemed to her comic and -she had laughed. But the idea had come, and that was a great point. - -It was such a great point that in her turn she looked at Leonor, -and this time she did not laugh; but she had no time to make any -comparison, for at the same moment she pricked up her ears and said, -"There he is." - -M. Hervart did not arrive till quite an appreciable time had passed, -and Leonor said to himself: - -"She scents her lover as a pointer scents the game. Love is -extraordinary." - -He abandoned himself to reflection, astonished at having learnt so many -things in half an hour's walk with a young and simple-hearted girl. - -Rose was staring with all her eyes in the direction from which the -sound of rustling leaves had come. Leonor stooped down behind her and -kissed the hem of her skirt. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -While he was alone, M. Hervart had done his best to make a decision, -as he had promised himself to do; but decisions had fluttered like -capricious butterflies round his head and would not let themselves be -caught. He was neither surprised nor vexed at the fact. - -"Rose," he said to himself at last, "will do all I want." - -This certitude was enough for him. The moment he had a will, Rose would -acquiesce. - -"Provided my will agrees with hers, that's obvious. Now Rose's wish is -to become Mme. Hervart. Dear little thing, she's in love with me...." - -He dwelt complacently on this idea, but a moment later it alarmed him -and he felt himself a prisoner. A hundred times over he repeated: - -"I must have done with it. I will speak to Des Boys this evening, -to-morrow morning at latest.... He will laugh at me. But that's all. -He will have to give in afterwards. My will, Rose's will.... I shall -carry her off and take her to Paris. Is it my first adventure? If it's -the last it will at least be a splendid one." - -He pictured to himself all the details of this romantic enterprise. He -would, of course, reserve a compartment in the train so as to insure -a propitious solitude. It would not be at night, but in the evening. -After an amusing little supper and some thrilling kisses, Rose would -go to sleep on his shoulder and from time to time he would touch her -breast, kiss her eyelids. She would be, at this moment, at once his -wife and his mistress, the woman who has given herself, but whom one -has not yet taken, a beautiful fruit to be looked at and delicately -handled before it is at last relished. What an exquisite creature of -love she would be. How docile her curiosity! What a pupil, like clay -the hands of the sculptor. An elopement? Why not a marriage tour? No, -no elopements! no romantic nonsense! Des Boys will give me his daughter -when I want.... - -But suddenly he had a curious vision. He was standing on the platform -of Caen station, amusing himself by peeping indiscreetly into the -carriages, and what did he see?--Rose and Leonor huddled together, -mouth against mouth. The train moved on, and he was left standing -there, looking at the red light disappearing in the smoke.... - -He got up, full of jealousy; he ran, then slowed down, listening for -possible words, questioning the silence. Without his knowing exactly -why, Rose's laugh, heard through the leaves of the wood, reassured him. -He saw Leonor stoop down and rise again holding a little pink flower in -his hand. - -"_Sherardia arvensis_," he said, taking the flower. "It has no business -to grow here. Its place is in the field next door. _Arvensis_, you see, -_arvensis_. But there are lots of plants that lose their way." - -"He knows everything," said Rose. "You see, he knows everything." - -Leonor, who had understood the allusion, did not answer. He walked -away, under the pretense of continuing his botanical researches in the -wood. - -"If love were born at this moment in my heart, it would be most -untimely, it would have chosen its place very unfortunately. Does he -love as he is loved? That is what I should like to know. Is he capable -of perseverance? Who knows? It may be, Rose, that you will one day lie -weeping in my arms." - -All three of them made their way back, Leonor walking a little ahead. -M. Hervart kept silence, for what he had to say demanded secrecy, and -commonplace words were impossible. Rose did not notice the silence; she -herself did not think of talking. She was happy, walking dose to her -lover. Sometimes, furtively she stretched out her hand and squeezed -one of his fingers. M. Hervart allowed his left arm to hang limply on -purpose. Leonor did not turn round once, and Rose was grateful to him -for that. M. Hervart, who felt that his secret had been guessed, would -have preferred a less deliberate, a less suspicious discretion. - -"What have these architects come to do here?" he wondered. "It looks -as though it had all been arranged by the Des Boys with a view to -getting off their daughter. Will they come back? Leonor certainly will. -And shall I be able to stay?" - -His perplexities began again. When Rose's hand touched his own, he -felt himself her prisoner, her happy slave. As soon as the contact was -removed, he was seized by ideas of flight and liberty. He would like -to have called Leonor, flung Rose into his arms and made off across -country. - -"I have never been so much disturbed by any amour. It's the question -of marriage. What complications! I hate this fellow Leonor. But for -him.... But for him? But is he the only man in the world? If I don't -take her, it will be somebody else." Suddenly he drew closer to Rose -and whispered frenziedly in her ear a stream of tender and violent -words, "Rose, I love you, I desire you with all my being, I want you." - -Rose started, but these words responded so exactly to her own thoughts -that she was only surprised by their suddenness. First she blushed, -then a smile of happy sweetness lit up her face and her eyes shone with -life and desire. - -They soon rejoined Lanfranc and M. Des Boys, who were confabulating -over a glass of wine. A few minutes later the architects got into their -carriage. - -At the moment when the groom let go of the horse's head, Leonor turned -round. Rose realised that the gesture was meant for her; she slightly -shrugged her shoulders. - -"I'm going to do a little painting," said M. Des Boys. - -"I caught sight of an interesting beetle at the top of the garden," -said M. Hervart. - -"I'm going up to my room," said Rose. - -Five minutes later the two lovers had met again near the bench on which -M. Hervart had meditated in vain. - -Without saying a word, Rose let herself fall into her lover's arms. Her -drooping head revealed her neck, and M. Hervart kissed it with more -passion than usual. His mouth pushed aside the collar of her dress, -seeking her shoulder. - -"Let us sit down," she said at last, when she had had her fill of her -lover's mild caresses. And taking his head between her hands, she in -her turn covered him with kisses, but mostly on the eyes and on the -forehead. Desiring a more tender contact, he took the offensive, seized -the exquisite head and after a slight resistance made a conquest of her -lips. There was always, when they were sitting down, a little struggle -before he reached this point, although she had often, when they were -walking, offered him her lips frankly. On the bench it was more -serious, because it was slower and because the kiss irradiated more -easily throughout her body. - -"No, Xavier, no!" - -But she surrendered. For the first time, M. Hervart, having loosened -her bodice, touched the soft flesh of her breast, fluttering with fear -and passion. He kissed her violently, and when the kiss was slow in -coming she provoked it, amorously. A simultaneous start put an end to -their double pleasure; and there, sitting close to one another, were -a pair of lovers, at once happy and ill satisfied. One of them was -wondering if love had not completer pleasures to offer; and the other -was saying, what a pity that one is a decent man! - -At the moment M. Hervart considered himself very reserved. Later, when -he had recovered his presence of mind a little more, he felt certain -scruples, for he was delicate and subject to headaches as a result of -indecisive pleasures. He felt proud of the at least partial domination, -which he could, at scabrous moments, exercise over his nervous centres -with his well-constructed, well-conditioned brain. - -"Do you love your husband, little Rose?" - -"Oh, yes!" - -She roused herself to utter this exclamation with energy. M. Hervart -felt no further indecision. Furthermore, he began almost at once to -give a new direction to his thoughts. He wanted something to eat; Rose -acquiesced. As she was slow in getting up he wanted to pick her up in -his arms; but his arms, grown strangely weak, were unequal to the light -burden. M. Hervart felt, too, that his legs were not as solid as they -might have been. He would have liked to eat and at the same time to -lie down in the grass. He let himself fall back on the bench. - -"You look so tired," said Rose, inventing every kind of tenderness. -"Stay here, I'll bring you some cakes and wine." - -But he refused and they went back together. - -Cheered by a little sherry and some brioches, M. Hervart asked for -music. Rose, inexpert though she was, soothed her lover with all the -melodies he desired. She even sang to him. The songs were all romances. - -"Joys of the young couple," he said to himself, half dozing. "A picture -by Greuze. Nothing is lacking except the little spaniel dog and the -paternal old man looking in at the window and shedding a few quiet -tears 'inspired by memory' at the sight of this ravishing scene. There, -I'm laughing at myself, so that I can't be quite so badly done for as -might have been thought. Not so close a prisoner, either." - -"Go and see my father," said Rose, leaving a verse half sung. "I'll -come and find you there later." - -And she went on with her music. - -"More and more conjugal, for I shall obey her after having, of course, -gone over: I kissed her in the neck. Dear child, she's waiting for the -surprise, shivering at it already...." - -Everything went off as M. Hervart had predicted, but there was -something more. Rose turned round and said, after offering her lips: - -"Go along, my darling, and mind you admire his painting a lot, more -than yesterday." - -"Yes, my love." - -"How charming it all is!" he said to himself as he knocked at the -studio door. "Delightful family conspiracies. Shall I be able to play -this part for long? Suppose I announce my intentions to my venerable -friend. Obviously there can be no more hesitation. Come on!" - -They talked of Ste. Clotilde. M. Hervart was loud in his praise both -of the historical knowledge as well as the pictorial skill of the -master of Robinvast, and at every word he uttered he felt a longing to -make the conversation touch on the conjugal virtues of that honourable -queen. Then the desire passed. - -Dinner time came. Afterwards, as usual, they played a game of whist. -M. Hervart retired to bed with pleasure and, wearied by his kisses and -his thoughts, went to sleep full of the contentment that comes from a -pleasant fatigue. - -"I shall have to warn Rose," he said to himself as soon as he woke, -rather late, next morning, "of her mother's schemes. They might make -her fall into some trap." - -He soon found an opportunity. In the morning their kisses were more -reserved, still somnolent. They frittered away the time pleasantly. M. -Hervart would sometimes make a serious examination of some rare insect: -Rose worked at her embroidery with conviction. They did not venture -into the wood, because of the dew, but remained in the neighbourhood of -the house. At this hour of the day M. Hervart was always particularly -lucid. He discoursed on a hundred different topics and Rose listened, -without daring to interrupt, even when she did not understand. She -enjoyed the sound of his voice much more than the sense of his words. - -Rose was not surprised to learn of her mothers schemes. She -confessed, furthermore, that she had divined in M. Varin's attitude -the existence of quite definite intentions. It was therefore decided -that M. Hervart should make his request that very day in order to -forestall circumstances. Rose spoke so resolutely and her words were -so lyrical that M. Hervart felt all his absurd hesitations melt away -within him. She knew her parents' income and gave the figure, very -straightforwardly, like the practical woman she was. M. Des Boys had an -income of sixty thousand francs of which, she imagined, he hardly spent -half. There was no doubt that he would willingly give the greater part -of the other half to his only daughter. As she had also calculated, -though with less certainty, the value of M. Hervart's fortune, she -included decisively: - -"We shall have from thirty to forty thousand francs a year." - -M. Hervart calculated the figures again with the details that were -known to him personally and found the estimate correct. His admiration -for Rose was increased. - -"She has all the virtues: an aptitude for love and the sense of -domestic economy, intelligence and very little education, health -without a striking beauty. Finally, she adores me and I love her." - -At the first insinuations of his friend M. Des Boys smiled and said: - -"I thought as much. My daughter has received but the vaguest education. -Her mother is incapable. As for me, I am interested only in art. She -needs a serious husband, a husband, that is to say, who is not in his -first youth. If she wants you, take her. I'll go and ask her." - -M. Hervart was on the point of saying there was no need. But luckily he -checked himself and M. Des Boys questioned his daughter. - -"I should like to," she said. - -M. Des Boys returned. - -"She said, 'I should like to,' She said it without enthusiasm, but she -said it. Now go and arrange things yourselves. I shall go on with my -painting." - -M. Hervart admired Rose still more for her astute answer. - -The girl was waiting for him as he came towards her, serious, scarcely -smiling, but beautified by the profound emotion that she could scarcely -contain. She gave him her hand, then her forehead; and when M. Hervart -drew her into his arms, she burst into tears. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -Meanwhile Leonor had received a wound which he could not support with -patience. A hundred times a day he thought of Rose. He was not in love -with the woman, he was in love with her love. He saw her as she had -appeared to him in the wood at Robinvast, with her whole desire, her -whole will, her whole body, turned innocently toward M. Hervart and he -felt no jealousy; on the contrary, he admired the ingenuous force of so -confiding, so powerful a love. By having been able to inspire such a -love M. Hervart evoked in him an almost superstitious respect; he would -willingly have helped him in his amour. - -"I should like to know him," he said to himself naively; "I should ask -him for advice and lessons. I should beg him to reveal his secret to -me." - -He would spend hours dreaming on this theme: to be loved like that. In -these matters the most intelligent easily become childish. The ego is -a wall that limits the view, rising higher in proportion as the man is -greater. There is, however, a certain degree of greatness from which, -when a man reaches it, he can always look over the top of the wall of -his egoism; but that is very rare. Leonor was not a rare character; he -was simply a man a little above the ordinary, capable of originality -and of learning from experience, clever at his profession, apt at -forming general ideas, sometimes refined and sometimes gross, a peasant -rather than a man of the world, a solitary, cold of aspect, full of -contradictions, ironic or ingenuous by fits, tormented by sexual images -and sentimental ideas. - -He was not one of those in whom a budding love, even a love of the -head, abolishes the senses. The more he dreamed about Rose, the more -disquietingly tense grew his nerves. His desire did not turn towards -her; he caught himself one evening spying on the wife of the Barnavast -keeper, who was showing her legs as she bent over the well. It made -him feel rather ashamed, for this big Norman peasant woman, so young -and fresh, could boast, he imagined, of nothing more than a peasant's -cleanliness--wholly exterior, and he would only, could only tolerate -woman in the state of the nymph fresh risen from the bath, like the -companions of Diana. - -Besides, he noticed that Lanfranc was making up to this good creature -and doing it in all seriousness. Sure of giving him satisfaction by -taking himself off for a few days, he drove to Valognes and took the -Paris train. - -Leonor, without making pretensions to conquests, would have liked -to have certain kinds of adventures. He wanted to find one of those -women whom some careless husband, whether through avarice or poverty, -deprives of the joy of fashionable elegance or who, adorned by a -lover's prodigalities, dreams of giving for nothing the present which -they none the less very gladly sell. He had experienced these equivocal -good graces in the days when he lived in Paris. He had even succeeded, -during the space of eighteen months, in enchanting a very agreeable -little actress who fitted marvellously into the second category, and -he remembered how he had taken in a very pretty and very poor young -middle-class woman who had surrendered herself to him because he had -given himself out to be a rich nobleman. At the moment his mistress -was Mme. de la Mesangerie, a local beauty; but he had never really -possessed her as he desired. - -What Grand Turk ever ruled over such a harem? Paris, the cafés, the -concert halls, the theatres, the stations, the big shops, the gardens, -the Park! The women belong to whoever takes them; none belongs to -herself. None leaves her home in freedom and is sure of not returning -a slave. Leonor had no illusions with regard to the results of his -sensual quest He knew very well that he would captivate none but -willing slaves, slaves by profession, slaves by birth. But the hunt, if -the game came and offered itself graciously to the hunter, would still -have its attraction--that of choice; the fun would be to put one's hand -on the fattest partridge. - -"No," he said to himself, as he walked down the Avenue de l'Opera, -"this child from Robinvast shall not obsess me thus hour by hour. Any -woman, provided she is acceptable to my senses, will deliver me from -this silly vision. Is there such a thing as love without carnal desire? -It would be contrary to physiological truth. If I love Rose, it means -that I desire her.... If I desire her, it means that I have physical -needs. Once these needs are satisfied, I shall feel no desire for any -woman and I shall stop thinking of this silly girl. Hervart can do what -he likes with her; I shan't mind; and, after all, will the satisfaction -which he derives from her be so different from that which some unknown -woman will lavish so generously on me? A little coyness, does that add -a spice? The sensation of a victory, a favour is better. Shall I obtain -a favour? Alas, no. But by paying for it one can have the most perfect -imitations. Ah! why am not I at Barnavast, gauging cubes of masonry, -with glimpses of Placide Gerard's podgy thighs? Now I know just what -will happen.... Does one ever know? It's only eleven in the morning and -I've got a week before me." - -Still pursuing his stroll and his reflections, he entered the Louvre -stores. Here, provincials and foreigners were parading their -requirements and their astonishments. One heard all the possible -ways of pronouncing French badly. It was an exhibition of provincial -dialects. He jumped on moving platforms and staircases, passed down -long files of stoves and lamps, went down again, traversed an ocean -of crockery, went upstairs, found leather goods, whips and carriage -lanterns, tumbled into lifts, was caught once more in a labyrinth of -endless drapery, and after having wandered for some time among white -leather belts garters and umbrellas, he found himself face to face with -Mme de la Mesangerie, who blushed. - -"Is it a stroke of luck?" he wondered. - -Perhaps it was, for she said to him very quickly: - -"I'm alone. My husband has just gone back. I was going to wire to you." - -Then in a lower voice: - -"Well here you are! I don't ask how it happened. Shall we profit by the -opportunity?" - -"It seems to me that I was looking for you without knowing." - -"I have two days," she said, "at least two days." - -They left the shop, making their plans, which were very simple. - -"Let's go," she said, "and shut ourselves up at Fontainebleau for a -couple of days." - -"No, at Compiègne. It's more of a desert." - -She wanted to start on the spot. Her provincial prudery seemed suddenly -to have flown away. She was no longer the calm mistress who had never -yielded except to the most passionate entreaties. The proud-hearted -woman was turning into the lover, full of tenderness, a little reckless. - -As he packed his bag, Leonor felt very happy, though still very -much surprised. He decided, however, that he would ask no equivocal -questions. The woman he was looking for, and whom he would not have -found, had just fallen into his arms. What was more, he knew this -woman, he was in love with her, though without passion; he had derived -from her furtive but delicious pleasures. She inspired him, in a word, -with the liveliest curiosity: he trembled at the thought that he was -now to see her in all her natural beauty. - -"Is she as beautiful as she is elegant? Suppose I were to find a -farm-girl under the dress of the great lady." - -Less than an hour after their meeting they were together in the -refreshment room of the Gare du Nord. They had time to eat a hasty -luncheon, then the train carried them off. - -"I'm quite mad," she said, kissing Leonor's hands. "What an adventure! -It's I who have thrown myself at your head." - -"I have thrown myself so often at your knees!" - -"Very well, let it be understood that I am yielding to an old -entreaty--and to my own desire, my darling boy, for I love you. -Haven't I done what you would have liked often enough? But do you -think I didn't want to as much as you? A woman has so little freedom, -especially in a country place. How many women are there who would dare -do what I have done, even that little? Getting lost when we were out -shooting--that was all right for once. How frightened I was when you -got into my railway carriage, against orders, one evening at Condé.... -Many's the afternoon I've spent dreaming of you, you wicked boy.... -There, you make me quite shameless. I'm glad." - -And she took Leonor's head between her hands, kissing it all over, at -haphazard. Leonor had often seen her kissing her little boy or her dog -like that. - -Hortense was thirty. She owed her name to certain Bonapartist -sentiments which, in her family, had survived by a few years the events -of 1870. Certain elegant habits of thought and manners had also been -preserved. Her father, M. d'Urville had been one of the actors of -Octave Feuillet's comedies, in this same Compiègne where they were now -arriving. At the age when girls begin to forget that there are such -things as dolls, she had read the complete works of this shy passionate -writer; her mother did not forbid her to look at the _Vie Parisienne_, -in which her happy frivolity had never seen anything that might be -dangerous for a well-bred girl. And so, when she married, Hortense -knew that though marriage may be a garden surrounded by a wall, there -are ladders to climb over this wall; the only things she thought of in -her husband were rank, fortune and the conventions. Her first lover -had been a young officer, with whom, as with Leonor, she had lost -her way hunting; only with him it had been a stag-hunt. Leonor had -participated only at an ordinary shoot, M. de la Mesangerie, in view of -the present hard times, having broken up his pack of hounds. That affair -had been of the most fugitive character. Afterward she had received the -advances of M. de la Cloche, a once celebrated member of the Chamber -of Deputies; but M. de la Cloche voted the wrong way, and under the -cloak of political reasons M. de la Mesangerie closed his doors to him, -in spite of his wife, who concealed a real though momentary despair. -Finally M. Leonor Varin came to stay at La Mesangerie to superintend -certain repairs to the fine Louis XIII house. In this chilly young man, -so cold and yet so romantic as well as sensual, Hortense had found a -more durable love, which greatly increased her happiness. Under a -very skilfully calculated reserve, she adored Leonor, who had, on his -side, always shown himself obedient, respectful, adroit and tender. -She realised that the furtive pleasures which she was able to give him -without compromising herself did not altogether satisfy her lover. She -too, in whom the avid sensuality of the woman of thirty had begun to -wake, desired pleasures of a less rapid and more complicated nature. -Leonor's kisses and the words he whispered had little by little filled -her imagination with images which she wanted to see in real life. How -often she had thought of running away! Two days in Paris! And now her -husband had given her these two days himself. - -When she said, "I'm glad" she was confessing to the existence of a -happiness in which it still seemed impossible wholly to believe. She -pressed herself close to Leonor. - -"Is it true? Are we really both of us here, alone and free?" - -In a whisper she added, her bosom heaving with precipitate waves, "I -shall be yours, absolutely yours, at last." - -"All mine, all?" asked Leonor, touching her mouth with his own. - -"I belong to you." - -She had the wisdom to withdraw, and looking out of the window she asked: - -"Where are we?" - -"We are coming near our happiness," said Leonor. - -They crossed the Oise, calm and gentle; then came the first houses of -Compiègne and in a moment the station. They felt a strange emotion. - -She did not wish to go to the Bell Hotel. A cab took them quickly to -the Stag. Leonor was paying it off, but Hortense, wiser than her lover, -kept it to do a round in the forest. She was pitiless and laughed, but -with passion in her laughter; she changed her clothes and came down -again. - -They passed, without seeing it, before that elegant casket of stone -which is the town hall. Following the fringe of the Great Park they -reached the Tremble hills, where oaks and chestnut trees emerge, like -the sails of ships, above the green ocean of bracken. They got down -from the carriage with the intention of losing themselves for a moment -in this bitter-smelling sea. The woman's white dress and fair hair left -a luminous track as she advanced, for she was flying, like a laughing -nymph before the hoarse laughter of the faun. - -"It was about time," she said when the carriage picked them up to take -them on to the Beaux-Monts. - -"Time? what do you mean?" - -"Yes," she went on, "I was too entranced.... We'll come back. Would you -like to? We'll come back every year.... One needs a lot of virtue to -resist the persuasions of the forest." - -"Virtue," said Leonor, "consists in being able to defer one's pleasure -or one's happiness.... I should like to see you in this scented sea, a -nymph, a dryad, a siren...." - -"Do you want to?... You're driving me crazy." - -The climb up the slope of the Beaux-Monts calmed their nerves. The -carriage, which had come round by the circular road, was waiting for -them at the top. They stood for a little while looking at the mist-grey -distances. - -They drove back by the Soissons road; they looked at nothing now and, -since it had grown cool, they drew closer together and sat with clasped -hands. - -Leonor was thinking of the curious chances that had transported him, -in a day or two, from Barnavast into the forest of Compiègne and had -changed his profession from architecture to love. In spite of the fact -that it seemed absurd and almost indelicate, he began, sitting in this -carriage with his mistress's hand in his, to think of his walk with -Rose. - -"Rose is the cause of it all. It is she who brought me here, not you, -poor darling, who sit dreaming at my side. It is she who made me hungry -for the kisses I reserve for you?? kisses that any other woman might -have received in your place.... Yes, squeeze my hand, you may do it, -for I really think I love you. I love you more than chance, I love -you more than the woman I was looking for, because you are the woman -I found. Besides, the perfume of your soul will make sweet your own -pleasure without thinking at all of mine. In love, egotism is a homage; -it is also a sign of confidence." - -The moment came. Silence fell with the night. She strove to hide her -shyness under an impudent smile. - -"Must I be a statue to please you? Am I a statue?" - -"Your beauty would enchant me," he said, "even if it were not you. -Statue, are you made of marble?" - -"You know I'm not." - -She called to mind, though the moment seemed most inapposite, her -husband's pudicity, his discreet entries into the conjugal chamber, -the timidity of his caresses, the decency of his words, and the sudden -savagery after his almost brotherly conversation. M. de la Mesangerie -had explained to her that the final formality was necessary for the -procreation of children. "God," he added, "has so ordered it, and we -must bless his divine providence." He seemed to regret the obligation -of going so far and, whether through natural or acquired foolishness, -or whether through hypocrisy, he encouraged his wife to believe that -sensual pleasures were contemptible. "They are," he even said, "a means -and not an end." Following these principles, he had deprived her of -them as soon as her first child seemed imminent. M. de la Mesangerie -was very pious and prided himself on the possession of a most -enlightened and methodical religion. - -"That's the way," she said to herself, as she looped up her hair, "to -train up a wife for adultery." - -Under the pretext of sticking a pin into her hair, she stood admiring -herself in front of the glass, and at the same time, at the risk of -offending her lover, who shouldn't have doubted the fact, she said, -"You're the only person who has seen me like this, you and I...." - -When Leonor went to sleep she knelt beside his adored body and pious -words came to her lips: she had found the living god at last. - -They had two days. They decided to finish the last hours at Paris and -they returned to shut themselves up in a hotel in the Rue de Rivoli. -Hortense was indefatigable. - -"What shall we do to recapture this?" she asked. - -The idea of taking a little house at Carentan seemed to them a good -one. Mme. de la Mesangerie would always have the pretext of going to -see her mother at Carquebut; her husband accompanied her there only -once a year. - -"Yes," said Leonor; "there's the time between two trains, one hour; -then one misses one train. That makes two hours. Plenty of things can -be done in two hours." - -"Lovers learn the art of using every moment." - -To Hortense it seemed as though she had begun a new life, her real -life. She began consulting time-tables, fitting in her connections. -Then she tossed the booklet aside, saying: - -"Bah! It would be much simpler to get divorced." - -"Your husband's virtue stands in the way, my dear." - -She did not insist. Nevertheless, at this moment, she would have -abandoned everything--family, children, house, fortune, honour--to -follow Leonor and become the wife of a little architect with a still -uncertain future. And then she would be the niece of Lanfranc, whose -mother used to sell cakes to the children in the Place Notre-Dame -at Saint-Lô! She had bought them from her when she was ten. Her -aristocratic instinct revolted, but she looked at Leonor and reflected -that the demigods were born of the peasant girls of Attica. She pursued -her idea. - -"Your mother must have been very beautiful." - -"Who told you so? It's quite true." - -She wished to go to the station alone, refused to be seen off. - -"When shall I see you? You're not going to stay on in Paris?" - -"No." - -Leonor kept his word. He saw Hortense starting for the station, with -red eyes, and an hour later he left in his turn. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -Satiated, languid with that fatigue which is a blessing to the body and -a joy for the lightened brain, Hortense was thinking. She was not sorry -to be returning home. The journey--what better pretext could there be -for the headaches which demand darkness and silence, or long morning -hours in bed, for siestas? - -"I must sleep off my love, as drunkards say that one must sleep off -one's wine. But what a horrid comparison! I shall dream deliciously. My -lover, I have only to shut my eyes to see you, happy in my happiness, -and to feel your dear caresses. Tell me, are you pleased with me? What -must I do to be still more your mistress? Yes, I ought not to have -gone away; I ought to have stayed with you, at your orders, forgetting -everything that is not you. You should have run and overtaken me, kept -me, locked me up! But listen, I shall go and see you every week. Oh! -how gladly I shall tell lies! How pleasant it will be for me to look -M. de la Mesangerie in the face while he reads around my eyes only the -innocent fatigue of a long journey!" - -The delirium of the senses invaded all her life. She scarcely -remembered the events that had preceded her trip to Compiègne. She had -spent more than an hour wondering if there were round about St. Lô, or -in the forest of Cerisy, any of these oceans of bracken. She could not -think of any; but she would look.... - -M. de la Mesangerie, who was waiting for her at the station, -thought she looked tired. She was not tired; she was in a state of -hallucination. However, she had enough presence of mind to reproach her -husband for having deserted her. Thus, she hadn't dare fix definitely -on the furniture which they had almost chosen together; she had -spent two days of indecision in the Louvre stores, tiring every one, -including herself. - -"You must go back there by yourself," she said, "it will be your -punishment." - -M. de la Mesangerie was flattered. But there was another misfortune: -the toys for the children had been forgotten. Hortense felt rather -ashamed when she confessed this; she also inwardly regretted such an -oversight. - -"I am a lover, but I am also a mother." - -For the first time the possibility of a conflict between two tendencies -of her heart occurred to her. A few minutes' shopping in the town -repaired her omissions, and meanwhile gave opportunity to send a post -card to Barnavast. After that she abandoned herself, with a certain -pleasure, to the re-discovery of familiar landscapes: they were not so -different as she might have thought. - -Leonor went back with no lyrical ideas in his head, but none the less -very well satisfied. - -"I have a mistress of the very kind I wanted. Libertinage and -sentiment. The mixture has a very piquant savour. But I didn't believe -her capable of so much boldness. She would never have dared in her -own surroundings. People only become themselves out of their native -surroundings: they either die or else they develop according to their -own physiological logic. Breton girls, out of whom Paris sometimes -makes such agreeable little drabs, are dreamy little prudes in the -shade of their village belfry. Hortense is, as was said of Marion, -'naturally lascivious'; she might have died without knowing the art of -fruitfully employing this precious temperament. She seemed so awkward -and shame-faced when she abandoned herself at those first meetings of -ours. She loves me. But mayn't she perhaps love me too much? Leave her -husband! No she must remain my secret." - -He was in a very good humour, and took an interest in the trees and -rivers and houses that he passed. The monotony of the apple orchards -and the fields of cows did not bore him in the least. Having nothing to -desire he was enjoying the mere process of living! - -He stopped at Carentan to look for a house in which he could hide a -bed, failed to find one, but discovered a very decent furnished room. -The skipper of an English coasting steamer occupied it sometimes, but -the people would be happy to have a more sober tenant. Everything -smelt strongly of whiskey. He made the bargain, had the room cleaned, -paid well and made no concealment of his intentions. "Oh, yes," they -answered, "the other tenant used to bring them back with him too. It's -all right provided there's no noise." - -"_Them_, he thought; that's what she'll be for these people. Just one -of them." - -He left them and strolled along the shore to Grandcamp, thinking of -nothing but the little sensations of the moment. He was not one of -those who complain that the seaside is fringed with houses, that -there are shelters where one can take refuge from wind and rain, iced -drinks to melt the salt out of one's throat, board and lodgings and -the movement of a second-rate, but sometimes curious, humanity. These -little boys destined to become gross males, little girls whom time will -turn into pretentious young ladies and rich middle class brides--what -pretty and delicate animals they are! Much more amusing than little -dogs or kittens! He had often pondered on the mystery of intelligence -among children. How is it that these subtle creatures are so quickly -transformed into imbeciles? Why should the flower of these fine -graceful plants be silliness? - -"But isn't it the same with animals, and especially among the animals -that approach our physiology most closely? The great apes, so -intelligent in their youth, become idiotic and cruel as soon as they -reach puberty. There is a cape there which they never double. A few men -succeed; their intelligence escapes shipwreck, and they float free and -smiling on the tranquillized sea. Sex is an absinthe whose strength -only the strong can stand; it poisons the blood of the commonalty of -men. Women succumb even more surely to this crisis. Those who have -been intelligent in their critical age is past. In both sexes there -are two successive crises: the sexual crisis and the sensual crisis. -The first comes at a fixed period for the individuals of the same -race and the same environment. The second generally coincides with -the completion of growth, with the state of physiological perfection. -Sometimes, when decline is beginning, a third crisis occurs, which is -like the first, inasmuch as it almost always brings with it a condition -of sentimentality. Hervart, I feel almost sure, is going through this -crisis now; Hortense and I are at the second; Rose is undergoing the -first." - -Leonor, like many of his contemporaries, despised his profession. He -was an architect, but his desire was to write scientific works, showing -that physiology is the base of all the so-called psychical phenomena. -All the acts which men call virtuous or vicious were, he considered, -made inevitable by the state of the organs and the disposition of -the nervous system. Nothing made him want to laugh so much as the -pretensions of cold-blooded women who make a merit of their chastity; -and he was amazed, after so much scientific data, at the way in which -men went on considering the explosions of the organism as voluntary or -involuntary. The influence of conscience on human conduct seemed to -him null. He had demonstrated this to one of his friends, a master in -an ecclesiastical school, by means of a grandfather clock which stood -in his study. "What you call conscience," he said, "is the weight that -works the striking apparatus. But I can take off that weight and the -clock will go on making the hours without striking them." This friend -had confessed that his own very real chastity was entirely involuntary: -women roused no desire in him. He had once made the experiment and had -obtained, after the greatest difficulty, only a most disappointing -result. "I believe," he added, "that most of my colleagues are like -me. Some of them, more favoured by nature, employ their faculties in -secret; another has a private vice; and I know one who is a danger -for children. For the most part we are chaste by the will of nature -herself. Debauchery would be a torture for me. I am only interested in -mathematics." - -Leonor, however, had no intention of succumbing to the embraces of the -sensual crisis. - -"Let me profit by this momentary disposition, but let me preserve -at the same time a certain spirit. I mustn't compromise either my -physical, intellectual or social fortune. Within these limits I can -give myself body and soul to this midsummer madness. Hortense is a -perfect violin; I will be her devoted bow. And between her hands, -am not I also a good instrument? Oh! the fools who pass their life -fighting against their passions! After that, what happens? When they -see that the garden is almost flowerless, they come in melancholy -fashion to smell the last rose: the wind passes and they find only a -bush of leaves and thorns! But shouldn't I also ask: after that? May -it not be that the only delicious thing in life is the constancy of an -unconscious love? I know only too well that I love Hortense, and I know -only too well why I love her. It is certain that on the day when she -appears to me less beautiful I shall leave her. Suppose I let it go at -that? Suppose I looked for something else? Is variety as satisfactory -as quality? Let's have a look on this beach.... I must make use of -my state of mind, that is to say of the pleasing irritation of my -nerves...." - -Chance is scarcely ever anything more than our aptitude to take -advantage of circumstances. On the beach Leonor met a young and pretty -woman, a young woman of the sort that one sees so many of, the sort -whose dress and figure tell one nothing decisive. He might have gone -on contemplating the melancholy death of the wave at her feet; but he -was walking for this very purpose--to meet a woman walking by herself: -his desire created the chance. For a moment he was afraid that she was -going to make advances, but she passed on. He followed. Skirting the -water all the while, the young woman moved away from the frequented -part of the sands. She tried to pick up a ribbon of weed, but it -escaped her. Leonor reached it. Out of the water, it was a long vicious -whip-lash. She thanked him, embarrassed by the present. - -"Throw it back, then. It's like most of our desires. As soon as one -holds them fast, one would like to throw them back into the sea." - -She gave a little laugh, a sad, almost a smothered, laugh. - -"Oh! Not always," she said. - -They turned back toward the dunes and, seated on the sand, began to -talk as though they were old friends. - -She looked at him insistently, though not appearing to do so. Finally -she said: - -"You don't look like a nasty man." - -"Is that a compliment?" - -"In my mouth, yes." - -Then, little by little warming up, she talked without stop. It was a -flood of words, like the mounting tide, only more rapid. She told him -the story of her life. Leonor liked this sort of thing from ladies of -equivocal reputations, and he now displayed a keen interest, putting in -little words that inspired confidence. This was what he succeeded in -making out: - -She lived in Paris and gave herself only to a small number of friends, -always the same. The respectability of her life was, therefore, beyond -suspicion. Her parents could not complain of having that sort of -daughter. They lived in the north, near Boulogne; hence, in order not -to meet them or the people from her part of the country, she confined -her peregrinations to the seaside resorts of Normandy. Among her -friends two were particularly dear. One was a young foreigner, who -lived in Paris six months of the year; but he went on sending her money -during the summer The other, though he was older, gave less she liked -him better--being a Parisian, he was clever. He was a civil servant. -She would not specify the office for which he worked, but it seemed to -be the department of Fine Arts. The first of these friends imagined -that she was at Grandcamp, where she had just arrived; for the civil -servant was at Honfleur. That complicated her correspondence a little, -but it was better. Besides, she had had no opportunity of writing to -the civil servant for a long time, for he gave signs of life only by -an occasional post-card. That seemed to her suspicious and made her -sad. When he had last written he was at Cherbourg, but he had given no -address. - -"He looks like a man who wants to get married. Married! he's not -capable of satisfying a woman. All the same, I like him. And besides, I -should miss him for other reasons." - -This woman, with her commonplace life her commonplace brain, had an -agreeable voice, a delicate face, intelligence in her eyes and a sort -of natural elegance. Leonor felt a violent desire for her. - -"I am spending several days here," he said. - -"So am I." - -"Shouldn't we spend them together?" - -She gave a pretty laugh, allowed herself to be entreated, and accepted, -after having once more examined Leonor with a sagacious eye. The -proposition accepted, she offered him her lips, looked at the time on a -minute watch and got up, saying: - -"Let's go and have dinner. We must hurry to get a little table." - -Her name was Gratienne. She was a little woman, with a mass of dark -hair, and her profile was charming. Leonor was amused by the contrast -between this little statuette and the opulent Leda type of Hortense. -She had a supple body, fresh and delicately scented; and since she -was a professional and ardently shared the pleasures she provoked, he -passed several pleasant nights. The days were much less agreeable, for -he had to submit to long prolix confidences. There were amusing touches -in her stories, but from professional ethics she refrained from ever -uttering a proper name, a fact which somewhat confused her anecdotes. - -One evening, however, in a moment of distraction or of confidence, she -allowed Leonor to turn over her little collection of post-cards. - -"Besides," added, "as you're not Parisian, the names will tell you -nothing." - -Leonor looked at ships, mountains, casinos, girls bathing and many -other interesting pictures. Some were signed Theobald and came from -Austria, others Paul, and came from the Pyrenees. - -"Hullo, Tourlaville castle!" - -Without appearing to do so, he examined the writing of the address with -care. He did not know the hand. The card was signed H. He passed on. -Another of the La Hague castles. This time the signature was Herv. - -"Surely it's Hervart." - -The name appeared in full at the bottom of Martinvast Castle, with a -postscript of "love and kisses." - -"That must be the civil servant in the Fine Arts Department. Obviously." - -For a moment he felt annoyed at being the collaborator, even the casual -collabor, of M. Hervart. He would have preferred someone he did not -know. Theobald pleased him better. But all at once he thought of Rose: - -"It's curious," he said to himself, "that we should love the same women -in all the different styles." - -While Gratienne was looking out of the window, he slipped the card of -Martinvast castle into his pocket. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -Since his marriage had been decided on, M. Hervart seemed very happy -Rose's confidence in him had grown still greater and with it their -intimacy. He hesitated now about only one thing: what date should he -fix? Rose, without admitting the fact wanted to be married as soon as -possible, so that she might know the end of the story. Women, however, -are broken into prolonged patience. She would wait, if Xavier decided -that they ought to wait. To obey Xavier was to her a great pleasure. - -M. Hervart's latest hesitations were not very comprehensible. His -situation, after the winter, would be in no way altered. What was the -present obstacle? Gratienne? Of course, he thought himself passionately -adored by her, but would she love him less, would she be less hurt a -year hence? His ideas about Gratienne, were moreover, variable. At -one moment he attributed to her the virtue of an unhappily married -woman who has given herself for love to her heart's choice; at the -next going to the opposite extreme, he saw her prostituted to every -chance comer. The humble truth escaped him. Expert in these matters -though he was, he had never been able to see that Gratienne was a girl -who could skilfully reconcile her interests, her pleasures and her -sentimental needs, and who completely dissociated these three things. -What she loved in M. Hervart was the sensual lover, but she none the -less appreciated the rich and serious civil servant in him. For free -love is like legal love in this also, that money reinforces sentiment. -Thus M. Hervart esteemed Gratienne sometimes more and sometimes less, -but he always loved her the same, having, moreover, no visible breach -of contract to reproach her with. The thought of deserting Gratienne -filled him with distress, not because of the pain he himself would -feel, but because of the pain that she most certainly would suffer. -Besides, even when he was in a mood to despise Gratienne, he set store -by her esteem. However, all of that would come right, he thought, for -the situation was a common one and one of those that have to be solved -every day. - -"As soon as I have possessed Rose, I shall think no more of Gratienne, -that's obvious. And then, why should I break with the charming girl -brutally? I don't intend to upset her." - -At bottom, it was the thought of marriage itself that was still -alarming M. Hervart. He felt the tyrant that they all turn into already -rising up beneath the surface of the sweet young girl. - -"She loves me, therefore she will be jealous. So shall I perhaps. Or -perhaps in a few days I shall dislike her. Shall I please her for long? -She loves me because she knows no one else but me." - -M. Hervart's health sometimes alarmed him. He would wake up feeling -more tired than when he went to bed. The least cold caught him in the -throat or in the joints. And when meals were late, his breathing became -difficult and he was seized with giddiness. - -"I'm a fool. Here am I, getting married at an age when wise men begin -unmarrying. Bah! In spite of everything, I'm still tough and I can -still tame a woman." - -He recalled, with pride, his last rendezvous with Gratienne; he had -conquered her, annihilated her, reduced her to a pulp, and himself, -strutting like a cock, had crowed over his happy victim. - -"Besides, with Rose, I shall be master. I shall be for her the Man and -men in general.... By the way, why hasn't Gratienne written to me since -I've been here? Of course, I never gave her my address." - -That had been the right thing, he first thought; then he reproached -himself for it, felt almost remorseful. He hastily concocted a quite -affectionate letter, asking for news. There was a letter-box not far -away, on the St. Martin road; he went quickly downstairs and ran there -with his missive. - -On his return he found Rose in the garden. Since their engagement she -had been living in a perpetual smile. She entered naïvely into her -destiny, suspecting no further possible obstacle to her happiness. At -the same time, by what must have been instinctive coquetry, she had -become, not more reserved, but less prompt at their habitual sports. -She spoke a great deal of her future house, picturing to herself -their drawing-room furniture, which she pictured from the illustrated -catalogues, and the colour of their carpets and curtains. The idea -of this furniture horrified M. Hervart, who had a taste for antiques -and happy discoveries, which he mixed, without shame, with practical -constructions made under his own directions. To-day he found it more -difficult than usual to tolerate this housewifely chatter. He was bored. - -"Can it be," he wondered, "that I feel nothing but a wholly carnal -love for her? What's the use of marrying, if I can't see in her the -wife, the mother, the lady of the house as well as the mistress? In -that case Gratienne is quite enough for me. Marriage is delightful when -one is fresh from school. One finds the happiest establishments among -students. They live on one another, in one another. Promiscuity seems -an enchantment. One makes one's first acquaintance with the opposite -sex; one completes oneself. Later on, all this intimacy is no longer -possible; and later still, one is very well content with mere amorous -visitations while one awaits the moment when solitude brings the only -instants of appreciable happiness." - -M. Hervart brought his meditations to no conclusions, and so the -morning passed--Rose choosing imaginary wallpapers and Xavier -philosophising in secret on the unpleasantnesses of marriage. - -After luncheon, a diabolic idea occurred to him: Why shouldn't he -take a definite advance on his conjugal rights? The blood went to his -head. He began to breathe a little heavily as he pressed Rose against -him. When they were seated, the usual ceremony took place after the -usual rebuffs. She allowed her lover's hand to wander. Their mouths, -meanwhile, were kissing, drinking one another. After a moment of calm, -M. Hervart, on his knees now, took one of Rose's feet in his hand. He -caressed the ankle and she made no resistance, when he became more -daring, though much moved, still she did not protest, and did no more -than whisper, "Xavier! No! No!" Nothing more happened. M. Hervart -did not dare. While, feeling very uncomfortable, he was deploring his -virtue, Rose fondled him and called him naughty. - -"It's curious," he thought, "that they all have the same vocabulary by -nature." - -He was ashamed. Nothing makes a man ashamed so much as having failed in -his purpose, what ever may have been the cause of his failure. He said, -a little nervously: - -"Let's walk a little. Let's do something." - -"What an idiot I am," he thought, as they walked along the Couville -road, where there are rocks and a little heather and foxgloves among -the birch-trees; "after all, she's my wife." - -On the following days the same manoeuvre was repeated several times, -and M. Hervart always hesitated at the decisive moment. - -"Besides," he wondered, "would she let me? I can hardly violate my -fiancée, can I? I have taught her nothing she doesn't know. If we came -on to untried lessons, how would she take it?..." - -He continued: "Dismal pleasures for me. I've had enough of them. It -was amusing only the first time." - -Finally, one evening when they had gone out alone, a thing which never -had happened before, he was a little more daring.... - -The darkness made Rose receive her lover's caresses more willingly than -usual. She was expecting them. The thing which had appeared so bold to -M. Hervart obviously seemed already quite natural to her.... - -"Much more natural, perhaps, than allowing me to touch her breast or -the under side of her arm...." - -M. Hervart made bold to ask for more.... "Rose! Rose!" - -But the girl recoiled. Suppressing a cry, Rose got up and said: "Let's -go indoors." - -She added, a moment later, "It's wrong Xavier, it's wrong. Respect me." - -"What logic," said M. Hervart to himself. "Respect me! But it's true, I -made a mistake. With young girls especially one must begin at the end." - -The next day they met very early and Rose, refusing to listen to -anything he had to say, refusing even to give him a friendly kiss, -pronounced the sentence on which she had been meditating: - -"I am angry. If you want me to pardon you, go away at once and write -to me a week hence that everything's arranged for our marriage. I -love you. You will realise that when I am your wife, but not before. -I have been willing to play with you and you have tried to abuse the -privilege. It's wrong. Go!" - -He had to go, she was inflexible. - -When M. Hervart got into the express at Sottevast, Rose cried. She had -forgiven him because she loved him. She had forgiven him because he had -obeyed. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -From 8.57 a.m. till the hour of 6 p.m., when she rang at his door, M. -Hervart had precisely one idea, a single one: he must meet Gratienne. - -She had been in Paris since the day before, and she had just written to -him when she got his telegram from Caen. Her delight was very great. -She fulfilled her lover's desire with joy. - -"I love you, my old darling!" - -M. Hervart spent two days without thinking of Rose except as something -very remote. He was thrilled to re-discover the Louvre: he looked at -the colonnade before he went in; even the "fighting Hero" seemed a -novelty to him: he went and meditated in front of the crouching Venus, -of which he was especially fond. It was there that he had often met -Gratienne. How he loved her! What a pleasure it had been to come back -to his "ephebe." - -On the third day after his arrival he received Gratienne's letter -forwarded from Robinvast. That disturbed him a little--Rose's writing -superimposed on Gratienne's. - -"But aren't they superimposed in life? No, I mean, mingled together. -Rose is much too ignorant of the way things go to have any suspicion. -And besides, I must have got at least ten letters in women's -handwriting while I was at Robinvast and I never made any attempt at -concealment.... Rose--it's true I went rather far with her. But whose -fault was that? If she had resisted my first attacks, I shouldn't have -insisted. What an egoist she is!... However, I ought to write to her. -No, not to-day. It's my turn to be cross." - -During the day he thought several more times of Rose. The scenes in -the garden and the wood came back into his mind and unnerved him. Then -a question posed itself in his mind: Do I love her? But he would not -answer. Others presented themselves yet insistently: How shall I draw -back. He did not understand. He had no intention of drawing back. Well, -then, should the marriage take place? He really didn't know. - -"I must have a breathing space. I come back, I have arrears of work and -friends to sec. Everything must be done properly. For the little dryad -of the Robinvast wood, there is only one thing in the world and that is -I. For me there are a dozen things, a thousand...." - -He rang the bell, gave unnecessary orders, asked futile questions. It -was only at about three o'clock that he opened the door to an image -which had been prowling round his head since the morning: Gratienne was -coming to pick him up at four and they were to go to St. Cloud. That -was one of his great pleasures. - -"Will Rose be able to understand these profoundly civilised landscapes, -this well-tamed nature, these hills with their harmonious lines like -the body of a lovely sleeping woman?" - -M. Hervart felt in very good form. The uncomfortable symptoms which had -disquieted him in the country had disappeared since his return.... He -found in Gratienne a favourable reception and to the realisation of his -desires. She knew his tastes and she shared them. In short, he promised -himself several delightful hours after this familiar outing. However -a very disagreeable surprise was in store for him. After the preludes -of passion, when his whole being was bent on realisation, M. Hervart -had a moment of weakness. Gratienne's skilful tenderness had certainly -overcome it, the self-esteem of both parties had been preserved. - -In the morning, he thought of Stendhal, carried the volume to his -office and read chapter LX of _L'Amour_ with the greatest attention. -He found nothing there to enlighten him. Gratienne, certainly, did -not inspire, and indeed no woman had ever inspired, in him that kind -of ill-balanced passion in which the body recoils, alarmed at its own -boldness. - -"Stendhal no doubt had discovered one of the reasons for an absence -of apropos, but he had found only one. And besides, all this doesn't -belong to psychology; it is physiology. There's nothing but physiology. -Bouret will tell me about it." - -Bouret, who knew M. Hervart's life, made him relate, point by point, -the whole history of his last year. Finally he said: "Well it's very -simple." - -Bouret employed no circumlocutions. He was clear and brutal. After a -moment's reflection he continued! - -"The inevitable accompaniment of Platonic love is secret vice. Simple -flirtation leads to the same consequences. Double flirtation is secret -vice _à deux_, discreet and hypocritical. Triple flirtation, if it -exists, would still be secret vice _à deux_, but avowed, frank. It -would perhaps be less dangerous than double flirtation, which is -simply realisation artificially provoked. No virility can stand that. -Women, for another reason less easy to explain, are destroyed by it -just like men. Men are fools. If you want a woman, take a woman and -behave like a fine animal fulfilling its functions! And above all -beware of young girls. Young girls have destroyed the virility of more -men than all the Messalinas in the world. Sentimental conversations, -furtive kisses and hand-squeezings are almost always accompanied in -an impressionable man, especially if he has several months or even a -few weeks of chastity behind him, by loss of vigor. Then do you know -what happens? One gets used to it. I believe that our organs, despite -their close interdependence, have a certain autonomy. The first thing -you must do is to preserve perfect chastity for an indefinite period. -Active occupations, fatigue; you must procure sheer brute sleep. Then, -in two or three months make a few direct attempts, absolutely direct. -If that's all right, you must marry and set your mind to producing -children. There." - -"Then you condemn me to conjugal duty." - -"That's it precisely." - -"One should marry a woman one doesn't love? - -"That would be true wisdom." - -"And be faithful to her?" - -"Obviously." - -"Or else renounce everything?" - -"I won't go as far as that. Your case isn't desperate. You have fled in -time." - -"I didn't fly. I was driven away." - -"Bless her cruel heart. Tell me, did she permit indiscretions?" - -"Yes, I should almost have said willingly." - -"She will be a dangerous wife." - -"She is so innocent!" - -"There are no innocent women. They know by instinct all that we claim -to teach them." - -"That's just what innocence is." - -"Perhaps. But a delicate voluptuary with an innocent and amorous girl -is a lost man." - -"I begin to realise the fact." - -"There are not," Bouret went on, "several kinds of love. There is only -one kind. Love is physical. The most ethereal reverberates through the -organism with as much certainty as the most brutal. Nature knows only -one end, procreation, and if the road you take does not lead there, she -stops you and condemns you at least to some simulacrum; that is her -vengeance. Every intersexual sentiment tends towards love, unless its -initial character be well defined or unless the partners are in a phase -of life in which love is impossible.... But I am treating you too much -as a friend and too little as a patient. You seem to be pensive. You're -not as much interested in questions as Leonor Varin. He is my pupil -in the physiology of morals. How is Lanfranc? He doesn't Platonise, -doesn't flirt...." - -"Oh! no." - -"Varin interests me. Do you know him?" - -"Very little." - -"The loss is yours. One of his days he will become a fine mind, if he -gets over the sensual crisis. I'd like to marry him to some one." - -"That's your panacea." - -"Perhaps it is one, my friend, on condition that marriage is taken -seriously. It's only in marriage that one can find stability. By the -way, have you seen Des Boys' daughter? He writes to me from time to -time. We have remained friends because, though he's a fool, he's a -laconic fool. And then he's a very decent sort of fellow and a man to -whom I owe my position. He seems to be almost embarrassed with his -daughter. He has no connections in the world. What's she like? Pretty? - -"Yes." - -"Intelligent? I mean, of course, as far as a woman can be intelligent." - -"Yes." - -"And now the principal thing--her health?" - -"Good as far as one can see." - -"Ho, ho! I shall unloose Varin in pursuit of this nymph." - -"Unnecessary; he knows her." - -"Ah, he knows her?" - -M. Hervart got up. He was afraid that some unforeseen question might -make him say something silly. Suppose Bouret, who was a friend of Des -Boys, guessed something? He tried to think of an ambiguous phrase and -found one: - -"I spent a day at the Des Boys' with Varin. I don't know if he's a -familiar of the house." - -And with that he went away. - -"What a bad business!" he said to himself, as he thought of his health, -for the rest was of secondary importance to him now. "No more women! No -more Gratienne! No libidinous thoughts! Am I master of my thoughts? Why -not a course of pious reading?" - -He spent several black days, then gave orders, in one of the galleries -of his museum, for one of those untimely upheavals which drive the -amateur wild. M. Hervart needed to distract himself. After a week, -Gratienne grown anxious, sent him an express letter. He yielded to the -suggestion and that evening made an attempt which Bouret would have -considered premature. However, it succeeded marvellously well and M. -Hervart felt new life spring within him. - -The next day, as he was in excellent spirits, he wrote to Rose, whose -prolonged silence had ended by pricking his self-satisfaction. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -On reaching Barnavast, Leonor had found two letters; which of the two -interested him the more he could not tell. One was from M. Des Boys, -asking him to come and finish, before the winter, and immediately, if -he could, the alterations at Robinvast. A room was ready for him. He -had but to give them warning, and they would send for him. The second -came from La Mesangerie. It was a diary. - -"15th September. What are my children's kisses after the kisses of my -lover? It is like the smell of the humble pink after the heady perfume -of the rarest flowers.... - -"What a fool the woman is," said Leonor inwardly. "Why does she write. -She has intelligence, her conversation is agreeable, she has taste, and -see what she writes! God, how melancholy!..." - -"... But pinks have their charm, just as they have their own season, -and I am happy to come back to them, since their season has returned." - -"That," thought Leonor, "is better; it's almost good.... Is Hervart -still at Robinvast? I hope not. His holiday wasn't indefinite, I should -think. Suppose I wrote to Gratienne?" - -"... You flowers that the touch of my Beloved made to blossom in my -heart, you perfume my soul, you intoxicate my senses...." - -"Intoxicate my senses.... Is it necessary to remember myself to -Gratienne? I would as soon get my information from another source." - -"... intoxicate my senses. My body trembles at the thought of the night -at Compiègne, every moment of which is a star that shines in my dreams. -I did not know what love was...." - -"Who does know what love is?... I don't feel bound to answer that -to-day. Now I come to think of it, I don't know where Gratienne is. -She must have left almost at the same time as I did. Let's leave it at -that...." - -"... what love was.... I have no desire to meet Hervart again at -Robinvast. He bores me. Is she really going to marry this civil -servant? If Rose knew. Yes, but if Rose knew everything, would she -think much more of me than of M. Hervart? I am ten years younger than -he, that's all; and my mistress is a much heavier millstone about my -neck than his. It's easy to get rid of a Gratienne; with some one like -Hortense, the process is much more difficult. She may make a scandal, -she may kill herself, she may make her husband turn her out and then -come and take refuge in my arms.... What then? Besides I love this -beautiful woman quite a lot and it would distress me very much if I had -to drive her to despair. And then Rose is wildly in love. Let me be -reasonable. Where was I? Still at love." - -"... what love was, before knowing you; I did not know what pleasure -was before our mad night...." - -"That's very likely. But I am doubtful about love. Is it love, that -frenzy of sensual curiosity that makes us desire to know, in every -aspect and in all its mysteries, the longed-for body? Why not? It is -indeed, probably, the best kind of love. Bite, eat, devour! How well -they realise it--those who reduce the object of their love to a little -bit of bread which they swallow. The Communion--what an act of love! -It's marvellous. Bouret would think that foolish, perhaps; but Bouret, -right as he is in being a materialist, is wrong in not understanding -materialistic mysticism. Can any one be at once more materialistic and -more mystical than those Christians who believe in the Real Presence? -Flesh and blood--that's what lovers want too, and they too have to -content themselves with a mere symbol." - -"... our mad night. It revealed a new world to me. I shall not die, -like Joshua, without having seen the earthly paradise." - -This phrase, despite its banality, pleased Leonor, who had begun to -feel more indulgent towards his mistress. - -"To write along letter like this was a great effort for her, and as -it was for me that she made the effort, I should be a cad to laugh -at it. That is why it would be as well to read no more. I shall ask -her to give me a rendezvous too. Afterwards I shall go to Robinvast. -Everything fits in well." - -The assignation at Carentan was difficult to arrange. Hortense, at -first delighted and ready to start, seemed to hesitate. It was too -near, the town was too small. But her desire was so strong! What should -she do? She hoped to find some pretext for going to Paris alone. - -The truth was that, re-established in her surroundings, Hortense -did not feel sufficiently bold to flout the rules voluntarily. She -was one of those women who are ready to do anything, provided that -circumstances determine their will. She could yield on an impulse to -an imperious lover, where or when did not matter, as soon as safety -was assured; she would profit by a chance, but to create chance, -to organise it--that was another matter. Her escapade at Compiègne -appeared to her now as one of those strokes of fortune which life does -not grant twice. She dreamed of a new chance meeting with Leonor; but a -concerted assignation! At the very thought, she felt herself followed, -shadowed; the idea made her quite ill. To be surprised by her absurd -husband--how shameful that would be! - -"If Leonor came here we could easily find some means. I could have a -headache, one Sunday, stay in my room, be alone in the house; besides, -there is luck." - -She always entrusted herself to luck. She had never yielded to any of -her lovers except on the spur of the moment. - -"Might we not recapture," she went on, "something of the night at -Compiègne, even in a rapid abandonment?" - -Women are ruminants: they can live for months, for years it may be, -on a voluptuous memory. That is what explains the apparent virtue of -certain women; one lovely sin, like a beautiful flower with an immortal -perfume, is enough to bless all the days of their life. Women still -remember the first kiss when men have forgotten the last. - -Hortense dreamed, Leonor desired. He thought only of yesterday's -mistress, when he did think of her, in order to make her the mistress -of to-morrow. His sentimentality was material. He crossed the stream -from stone to stepping-stone, from reality to reality. In default of -Hortense, he had taken Gratienne, not to satisfy his physical, but -his cerebral needs. To live, he had to have the electuary of two or -three sensations, always the same, but always fresh. Was he capable -of a profound emotion, and would such a love have influenced his -physiological habits? He did not know. Faithful to Bouret's theories, -he did not think so. - -He wrote to Hortense: "I want you to come." She was frightened but -happy. - -"How he loves me!" - -The pleasure of obeying struggled in her with fear. Fear, at certain -moments, gave way. - -"Since he wants me to come, it is clear that he knows I can come, that -there is no danger. And then, he will be there!" - -She leaned on Leonor as on a second husband, stronger, more real, -though distant. Distant? But wasn't he always present in her thoughts? - -One morning her fear gave way altogether, she wrote, set out, arrived. - -She was trembling, and she still trembled long after the bolts were -shot. - -This new festival of love was vain, on account of her sensibility. -Leonor, astonished by a coldness which he imagined he had overcome for -ever, attributed it to a failure of tenderness. He knew that women -only palpitate with the men they adore, but he thought that they ought -always to palpitate. He did He did not know that there are women who, -their whole life long, pursue the delirious sensations which they are -doomed never to find again. He imagined therefore, that he was no -longer loved, and he was bitter, for men are readily bitter when their -mistress's exaltation is too moderate. - -Hortense wept. "Oh, my dream, my beautiful dream!" - -Her tenderness had, however, in no way diminished. Leonor had to admit -it as he received contritely Hortense's poignant kisses. He asked her -pardon, humiliated himself, and for a moment she was happy in the -caresses of her lover, but she was still whispering to herself, "Oh, my -dream, my beautiful dream!" - -After her departure, Leonor coldly informed his landlady that he -did not mean to come back; then after a long tedious wait in an inn -parlour, he returned to Barnavast. A letter awaited him, pressing him -to come. M. Des Boys begged him, with a kind of anxiety, to fix the day -on which they could come and fetch him. - -Leonor would have liked, however, to devote some few days to -meditation. He had a question to answer, "Does she love me?" - -"We shall not meet again at Carentan, that is decided. Besides, it -was absurd. What a place to make love in! Her failure was due to her -repugnance for the surroundings. It was a sign of her refinement of -feeling. And then women have no imagination. To me, everything is a -palace; the woman I adore would light up a hovel.... Does she love me?" - -But it was in vain that he repeated the question, he could find no -answer. - -"What a fool I am! I shall see well enough next time. I continue to -love her. She is beautiful, she is obedient.... But is that the aim of -my life? Suppose she were given me for my own?" - -But to this question he could think of no answer either. - -Hortense, at the same moment, in the old room she had had before she -was married, was going to sleep, sighing, "Oh, my dream, my beautiful -dream!" - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -When Leonor arrived at Robinvast, Rose and her father were sitting -in the garden, each of them reading a letter.... From time to time, -Rose would raise her eyes and look at the trees; M. Des Boys between -two sentences of his letter would examine his daughter. During this -last fortnight, she had been pale, sad, out of humour; and her father, -absent-minded, but affectionate, had grown anxious. What was going -on between the recently engaged couple? But M. Des Boys would never -have dared to question his daughter. He was waiting for a confidence, -knowing quite well that it would never come; and on her side, Rose was -unhappy at having to keep locked up in her heart the troubles that -were suffocating her. These two people, shy and secretive towards one -another, might have remained like this for years without deciding to -speak the words which would have consoled them. - -M. Des Boys had accordingly urged Leonor to come and finish his work. - -"It will be a distraction for her," he had thought, "and then, at -bottom and in spite of my pledged word, I agree with my wife: Leonor -would be a much more suitable husband. What! Can Hervart be making her -unhappy already." - -The letter he was reading at this moment put the final touch to his -anxiety. It was from Bouret and Leonor was much praised in it. Bouret -went on: - -"I have seen Hervart and have equally advised him to get married, but -for different reasons. Though he is little younger than we are, he is -probably nearer the end. We shall all, alas, see this end confronting -us, if we live another fifteen years. Do you understand me? With -prudence and diplomacy, Hervart can still drag on a long time, can -even recapture brilliant moments; but he has played too much on the -fine violin given him by nature. The strings will snap one after the -other. As long as one remains a virtuoso, one can still astonish ears -habituated to vulgar exercises; but all the same, a single string is -very risky! I have therefore ordered him to marry and, above all, to be -faithful to his wife. Fidelity will bring satiety, satiety will bring -continence, and continence will perhaps be the true philter. A young -wife is not so dangerous as one thinks for a man on the down grade. She -is a favourable stimulant and, at the same time, a moderating element. -In fine, Hervart may make a very good husband. In any case it's an -experiment that interests me. I should be quite capable--if it gives -good results, that is, at least a fine child--of yielding myself to an -old temptation. I would give up my practice and go and cultivate roses -and camellias in some corner of your earthly Paradise, in the Saire -Valley, where one sees palms among the willow-trees!" - -"I had almost forgotten one important point in our hypothesis. The -young wife must have a virtuous temperament, without coldness, but -also without sensual curiosity; a good reproducing animal, apt in the -pleasure of conceiving rather than in the pleasure of love-making; one -of those who, after having been blushing brides, become loving mothers. -If he falls on some rebellious woman he is lost. If the instrument -which he has to tune and render sensitive gives out no sound or false -notes he will lose courage and return to his old concerts. But if, by -chance, his wife should reveal herself as a creature of voluptuousness, -his perdition would be still more certain: Hervart would flare up -like a faggot and nothing but a handful of ashes would be left. I am -not speaking of the adultery which would, in these last two cases be -inevitable. Sometimes it has the effect of re-establishing the balance -in a dislocated household; there are excellent conjugal associations in -which each party has his or her ideal down town, in a different quarter -of the city. But this is a matter of sociology and doesn't interest -me. I remain in my domain, which is the human body, its functions, -its anomalies. I may add that it is by their ignorance of it that the -sociologists think of such nonsense as they do. They are still hard -at work--the idiots!--reasoning about averages, they never come down -to reality, to the individual. How it is despised, this human body of -ours! And yet it is the only truth, the only beauty, just as it is the -only ideal and the only poetry...." - -Bouret was inclined to philosophise. His letters almost always passed -the range of his correspondents' comprehension. He saw that himself, -when he re-read them, and smiled. All that M. Des Boys understood in -his friend's dissertation was the passage which concerned Hervart; -but that he understood very well. Bouret's reticences produced their -ordinary effect: Hervart was considered as a man incapable, condemned -without reprieve. - -"He's a madman. What does he mean by going and captivating a young -girl's heart when he isn't sure of being able to make a wife of her! -The Lord knows, women aren't angels; they have corpora! sensations; and -then maternity, maternity...." - -M. Des Boys confided to himself all the scabrous or moral banalities -that such a subject could make him think of. Meanwhile, he examined his -daughter. - -"How shall I explain this to her? I shall make her mother do it." - -He continued his meditations; and sometimes he would smile at the -evocation of foolish fancies, sometimes his brows contracted and he -would feel a mixture of anxiety and anger. - -Rose was also reading: - -"... but I have been very ill since my arrival here. Some fever, due, -it may be to the delicious excitement of my heart. A great depression -has been the result and I now feel a most disquieting lassitude. Alas! -the conclusion is sad: we must put off our marriage. It's a infinite -pain to me to write this; but I ask myself when it will be possible? -Will it ever be possible? No, I won't ask that. It would be terrible. -I love you so much! What a happiness it is to walk again with you, in -fancy, through the wood at Robinvast! If I was too audacious, you will -pardon me won't you, because of the violence of my love...." - -There was a lot more in this style, and a less inexperienced woman -than Rose would have felt the artificiality of this amorous eloquence -Not a word of it, certainly, came from the heart. M. Hervart, who was -not cruel, had first laid down the principle of his illness and his -intention was to draw from it, graduating deceptions, all its logical -conclusions. If necessary, he had said to himself, Bouret will help -me. M. Hervart, who was by nature a man of the last moment and the -present sensation, thought of Rose only as one thinks of a sick friend, -for whose recovery one certainly hopes, but without anguish of mind. -However the fatuity inevitable in the male sex assured him that he -was not forgotten: he flattered himself on having left a wound in the -young girl's heart which would never altogether close, and he felt -what was almost remorse. To enjoy the egoist's complete peace, he -would have consented to a sacrifice; he would have allowed Rose, not -forgetfulness, but melancholy resignation. - -"Poor child!... But it had to happen. I hope she won't be too unhappy." - -The perusal of M. Hervart's letter left Rose sad and charmed: - -"Oh, how he loves me! Oh, my darling Xavier, you are ill then?" - -And she thought of the fiancée's cruel fate: - -"He is ill, and mayn't go and console him." - -She was turning towards her father when he rose to meet Leonor. It was -in the presence of the young man and without paying heed to him that -she imparted M. Hervart's news. - -"He is ill, he has had a touch of fever...." - -"Fever?" exclaimed M. Des Boys. - -"Yes, and afterwards he's been feeling very weak after it." - -"Very weak, yes. What then?" - -"What then, why, our marriage has to be postponed...." - -"Of course." - -"I'm very anxious." - -"So I should imagine." - -"Why shouldn't we go and see him?" - -"Do you think it would be any use?" - -"It would give him such pleasure." - -"Does he ask you to do it?" - -"No...." - -"Well, then." - -"He doesn't dare ask." - -"Is he as shy as all that?" - -This innocent question made her blush. - -"I'll speak of it with your mother," M. Des Boys continued. -"Meanwhile, let's get on a little with our architecture." - -Rose had been so bored since Xavier's departure, she had been so -miserable at his long silence, and now she was feeling so anxious that -she accepted her father's proposal without repugnance. - -This time they were dealing with the house, there were urgent repairs -to be made and useful ameliorations. As they went round, the architect -pointed out the weak spots. A whole plan of restoration formed itself -in his head. - -The days passed. The masons were soon at work. Rose hardly left -Leonor's side. - -They had news of M. Hervart more than once through the newspapers, for -his rearrangements at the Louvre had drawn upon him the epigrams of the -press; but he himself remained silent. - -In the circumstances M. Des Boys had resolved to say nothing, to leave -time to do its work. Later on, when no dangerous memories of her past -love remained in Rose's heart, when she should be married, he would -confide her the truth, with a smile. - -One day Leonor let fall, from the top of a ladder, a pocket-book from -which a flood of papers--sketches, bills, letters, picture post-cards ---escaped. Rose picked them up, without giving them more than the -discreetest glance when Martinvast castle caught her eye. At the loot -of the keep she found M. Hervart's "love and kisses." The blood came -suddenly to her eyes; she turned the card over and read: "Mademoiselle -Gratienne Leboeuf, Rue du Havre, Honfleur." She looked up; Leonor did -not seem to have noticed the incident, and with a rapid gesture she -folded up the card and slipped it into her bosom. - -"Monsieur Leonor, you've dropped your pocket-book." - -Leonor descended his ladder and thanked her, while Rose walked away. -When she had disappeared he noticed with delight that she had stolen -Martinvast Castle; then, whistling, he climbed up once more to see his -workmen. - -Arrived in her room, Rose sat down, trembling. - -"I have made a mistake," she said to herself. "It isn't possible. And -how could it have come into Leonor's hands?" - -She extracted the card from its hiding-place, unfolded it and looked at -it, trembling. - -"It's his writing all right." - -She still felt doubtful. - -"What's the date?" - -She deciphered it without difficulty. "Cherbourg, 31 July, 1903." - -"The very day we went to the Liais Garden, the day we went up that -tower where I almost fainted with love.... I was so happy!" - -She began crying. Through her tears she looked at her hands, turning -them, looking at all the fingers one after another. She looked as -though she were rediscovering them, taking possession of them once more. - -Finally she got up and stamped her foot. - -"Very well then, I don't love him any more. There! Good-bye, Monsieur -Hervart. You deceived me, I shall never forgive you. And I had such -confidence in him; I let myself rest so softly on his heart." - -She was still crying. - -"Now, I am ashamed...." - -And she felt her body, from head to feet, as though to take possession -of it also. She would have liked to press it, to wring it so that all -the caresses, all the kisses which had sunk into her skin, penetrated -her veins, thrilled her nerves, might be drained out of it. - -In her already perverted innocence she pictured to herself the mutual -caresses of Xavier and this Gratienne woman. She pictured to herself -this woman's body and compared it with her own. Was she more beautiful? -In what is one woman's body more beautiful than another's? Xavier had -loved to caress her, to crush her in his arms. And used he not to say: -"How beautiful you are!" A vision, against which she struggled in vain, -showed her Xavier kneeling beside Gratienne and covering her with -kisses. - -A heat mounted in her breast, her heart contracted; she tried to cry -out, half got up, clutched at the air with her hands and fell in a -faint. - -When she came to herself, she felt very tired and very frightened as -well. She looked about her, afraid to discover the reality of the -painful vision which had overwhelmed her. Reassured, she breathed -again. - -"It was a dream, only a dream." - -But it seemed as though a spring had suddenly been released in her -heart. Throughout her whole being there was a sudden change. Under her -maiden breast, grief had taken up its home. She felt it as one feels -a piece of gravel in one's shoe. It was something material which had -insinuated itself into the intimacy of her flesh, causing her, not -pain, but a sense of discomfort. - -At the same time, all that she habitually loved seemed to her without -the faintest interest. She looked with an indifferent eye at this -room in which she had dreamt so many dreams, this room that she had -arranged, decorated with so much pleasure, so much minute care, this -cell she had spun and woven herself to sleep in, like a chrysalis, till -the awakening of love should come. The great trees of the wood which -she could see from her window, and could never see without emotion, -appeared to her patches of insignificant greenery: she noticed, for -the first time, that their tops were of uneven height and she was -irritated by it. There was a sound of hammering; she leaned out of the -window and saw two men splitting a block of granite, and for a moment -she wondered what for. - -"Oh, yes, of course, the repairs.... What does it all matter to me? Ah! -where are my dear solitary hours in the old house, imprisoned by its -ivy and climbing roses! And now Leonor! I wish he'd go away. He's the -cause of it all. If it hadn't been for his clumsiness, I should never -have known of the existence of this woman.... But how did he come to -have that card in his pocket?" - -The idea of a voluntary indiscretion did not occur to her. She had -never dreamt that Leonor could feel for her any emotion of tenderness. -Besides, no man except Xavier had yet existed in her imagination. There -was Xavier on the one hand; and on the other there were the others. - -Meanwhile she went on reflecting. Love, jealousy, grief, quickened her -natural intelligence. - -"There were several letters in the pocket-book addressed to M. Varin. -That's natural. But why this card addressed to that woman? He must -know her too. She must have given it to him because of the view of -Martinvast Castle, I suppose...." - -She could not succeed in reconstructing the adventure of this -post-card. There was some mystery about it, which she soon gave up the -hope of solving. - -"But all I have to do is to ask M. Leonor. How simple! But then I shall -have to tell him that I stole his postal card, for I have stolen it! -It's not very serious, perhaps, but how shall I dare talk to him about -it, how shall I, first of all, confess that I had the bad manners to -look at his correspondence? Oh! but a post-card, a picture! And then I -shall tell him the truth? it fell under my eyes by chance, and if the -card had been turned with the address side upwards, I should certainly -not have turned it over...." - -What was most repugnant to her was the necessity of speaking of -Gratienne, for Leonor was not ignorant of her projected marriage with -M. Hervart. She remained undecided, and at once she began to suffer -once more; for her grief had spared her a little while she was engaged -in her deliberations. - -She was so wretched and so tired that when the dinner-bell rang she -went down without thinking of her dress, without refreshing her eyes, -still red and inflamed with crying. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -Leonor was on the watch for the effect of his cure. He saw that evening -that it had succeeded. Rose looked like a shadow, a dolorous shadow. -She forgot to eat, and would sit looking into the void, her hand on -her glass; she did not reply to questions unless they were repeated. -Finally, it was obvious that she had been crying. - -"The remedy has been a painful one," said Leonor to himself. "Will she -bear a grudge against the doctor? Perhaps, but the important thing was -to scratch out the unblemished image stamped on her heart. That has -been done. Across M. Hervart's portrait, in all directions, from top to -bottom, from side to side, there is written now: Gratienne, Gratienne, -Gratienne. - -"Ah, little swallow of the beach, how precious you have been for me! I -will give you a golden necklet to thank, in your person, the supreme -goddess of hearts. Hervart, I envied you once now I am sorry for you. -I despise you too. You had found love, ingenuous and absolute, you had -found in a single being, the child, the mistress and the wife, you -possessed the smile of innocence and the woman's desire--and you have -left it all for Gratienne and her caresses. But no, no invectives; -worthy civil servant, I thank you. Yes, but am I much better? My -Gratienne is a marquise, to be sure, but I have one just the same. No, -I have ceased to have a Gratienne. I shall be loyal. I will fling my -old burden into the sea, and at your feet, sad maiden, I shall kneel, -heart free." - -Nothing happened that evening. Rose preserved her silence, and her -attitude towards Leonor was the same as at other times. But she had -to make a painful effort to preserve her customary amiability. Leonor -wondered, deliberated within himself whether he should speak. Might -he not question her, with a distracted air about the post-card of -Martinvast? "He had thought it was with the other papers, but he -couldn't find it. Perhaps the wind carried it away." - -"No, that would be too direct. She may have suspicions; I shall try to -destroy them. I should be lost if she had certainties. But I have no -doubts. She will come of her own accord, she will speak first. And I -shall look as though I didn't understand; she will have to drag out of -me one by one a few ambiguous words." - -The days passed. Rose remained in the same melancholy state, ruminating -on her grief. Still she did not speak, and Leonor foresaw the moment, -when, his presence being no longer necessary, he would have to take his -leave. The operations on the outside of the house were coming to an -end, the weather had made digging impossible and Rose had decided that -the interior repairs should be put off till the spring. - -Meanwhile Leonor began to suffer in his turn. By living in the same -house as Rose he had felt the love, that had to begin with been -somewhat chimerical, grow and take root within him. From the moment -of their first meeting Rose had aroused in him something like a love -of love. He had first been moved by the generosity of an innocent -heart giving itself with so noble a violence. Next, he had felt that -vague jealousy which all men feel for one another. He had detested M. -Hervart, without being able to keep himself from admiring the spectacle -of his happiness. The desire to supplant him had naturally tormented -Leonor; but it was one of those desires which one feels sure can never -be realised and at which, in lucid moments, one shrugs one's shoulders. -Since chance and his own good management had so much modified the -logical sequence of things to his own profit, Leonor had begun to tell -himself that one should never doubt anything, that anything may happen -and that the impossible is probably the most reasonable thing in the -world. - -In these few weeks he had become more serious than ever, and above all -more calm. His egotism began to be capable of long deviations from -its straight course. He knew very well that Rose, if he hazarded a -confession, would reply with indifference, perhaps with anger. His plan -was to risk a few discreet insinuations on some suitable opportunity. - -"I might," he reflected, "put on the melancholy, disenchanted look -myself. She is ill, and it would be a case of one sick person seeking -some comfort in the eyes of a companion in misfortune.... Comedy! But -would it be so much of a comedy? Have I found in life all that I looked -for? If I had found it, should I be here dreaming of the capture of a -young girl? It's my right, to do that, since I love; all means will be -fair which put the resources of my imagination at the service of my -heart." - -But the opportunity of striking a melancholy, disenchanted attitude -never presented itself. Rose considered him more and more as an -architect, praised his skill in managing the workmen, and paid no -attention to his youth, his cleverness or even to the way he looked at -her--and his glances were often penetrating. There were moments when he -became discouraged. The memory of Hortense came back to him. They had -exchanged a few anodyne letters. She called him to her, but in a weak -voice, and it was in uncertain terms that he announced his next visit. - -"Dying love is always melancholy," he thought. "The poem would have -been beautiful if we had said good-bye after Compiègne. We tried to add -a verse, and it has been a failure. It's a pity. But what will become -of her? I still feel some curiosity about her." - -At other moments he pictured to himself Gratienne and the elegant -manner of her posturing; that roused him for a time. But the image of -M. Hervart would seem to come and mingle with that of this agreeable -young woman, and the charm would be broken. - -Rose's arrival would dispel all these visions. He took a great delight -in seeing her walk, enjoying, though with no idea of libertinage, the -grace of her movements. - -Leonor's departure had already been spoken of. One rainy afternoon, -Rose decided to speak. She did it very seriously, without attempting -to dissimulate her unhappiness. Between the two there followed a -conversation which took the tone of friendly confidences. - -After long hesitation she put the question for which Leonor had been -waiting with so much anxiety. He had forged several anecdotes with -which Rose would doubtless have been satisfied; but when the moment -came, rather than hesitate and risk inevitable contradictions, he -suddenly decided on a certain degree of frankness. - -He said: "The card fell into my hands because I myself have also been -entertained by this person. M. Hervart, I must tell you, was not there; -he did not know and she shall certainly never know. I had no idea -myself that he was the intimate friend of the house. That was why his -name struck me, appended as it was to 'best love.'" - -"It was 'love and kisses.'" - -"Of course, I remember now." And he repeated, with an intonation that -aggravated the words, and stamped them on the young girl's bruised -heart: "Yes, 'love and kisses.' There were a number of picture -post-cards addressed to the same person; there were many signed with the -same name or an abbreviation: H., Her., Herv. I was bold enough to take -one as a souvenir of my visit. And then ... and then.... May I say it, -Mademoiselle?" - -"Say what you like. Nothing can hurt me any more now." - -"Very well; I got hold of this card dishonestly, perhaps, but it was -because I was thinking of you.... I was thinking that the man to whom -you had just given your hand loved another woman and publicly admitted -his love for her. That seemed to me bad; I suffered for you--you whose -delicate and generous feelings I had guessed.... Yes, that distressed -me and my idea was, by stealing this proof of a wrong action, to let -you know of it, if circumstances allowed me." - -"Then you dropped your pocket-book on purpose?" - -"I confess. I did. And if that method had failed, I should have tried -to find another." - -"You hurt me a great deal. All the same, I am grateful to you." - -She held out her hand; Leonor pressed it respectfully. - -"I have given you less pain now than you would have felt later on. It -would have been irremediable then." - -"Who knows? I might perhaps have forgiven him afterwards. I shall not -forgive before." - -"I know M. Hervart fairly well," said Leonor, in a slightly -hypocritical voice, "but I know that, despite his age, he is -capricious. M. Lanfranc is a spiteful gossip and I won't repeat all -he told me. I know enough, and from certain sources, to make me -congratulate myself on what is perhaps an audacious intervention." - -"And what about my father? He has agreed to our marriage." - -"Your father lives a long way from Paris. He is kind and trustful. No -doubt his friend promised him to make you happy, and he believed him." - -"I believed him too. Alas! he had begun to make me happy already." - -"Oh! his intentions weren't bad. M. Hervart is not a bad man. He is -fickle, inconstant, irresolute." - -"I see that only too clearly." - -"He's an egoist. All men are egoists, for that matter, but there are -degrees. Is he capable of loving a woman whole-heartedly, capable of -consecrating his life to weaving daily joys for her? And yet what could -be a more perfect dream, when one meets in his path a creature who is -worthy of it, one who draws to herself not only love but adoration!" - -"I suppose that women like that are rare." - -"Those who have known one and desert her are very guilty." - -"Say rather that they are very much to be pitied. But not being one of -these women, I didn't ask so much." - -"You don't know yourself, Mademoiselle. Oh! if only I had been in M. -Hervart's place." - -"What would have happened?" asked Rose, without the least emotion, -without even the least curiosity. - -"How I should have loved you!" - -"But he loved me a great deal." - -"He didn't love you as you should be loved." - -"I don't know. How should I know these things? I believed, that was -all. I believed in him." - -"He was not worthy of you." - -"Perhaps it was I who was unworthy of him, since he loves me no more." - -"Unworthy of him, you? Don't you know, then, what this woman is?" - -"No, and I don't want to know. Oh! I'm not jealous. I'm humiliated. I -feel as though I had been beaten. Jealous? No. I have stopped loving -and I shall never love again." - -"Don't say that." - -"Love doesn't come twice." - -"But if one is unhappy the first time?" - -"One remains unhappy." - -"Happiness always has to be looked for. When one looks for it one finds -it." - -"Happiness falls from heaven one day; then it goes up again and never -descends any more." - -"Don't say that. You will be happy." - -"It's finished." - -"You will be happy as soon as you meet some one you really love with -all the force of an ardent and devoted heart." - -"Don't let's speak of these things. It hurts me." - -"I obey you. I will be silent, but not before telling you that that -heart is mine." - -Rose looked at him with astonished eyes. She seemed not to understand. -Leonor, very much moved, got up, walked towards her and said, in a -whisper: - -"Rose, I love you." - -At these words, Rose started, and when Leonor tried to take her hand, -she got up and ran away, crying: - -"No, no, no, no." - -"How stupid I've been," Leonor said to himself, when he was alone. -"Does one declare one's love like this? Here am I on a level with the -lowest heroes of novels. Think of declaring one's love, saying, 'I am -hot,' to a woman who is cold. What does it mean to her? Words possess -eloquence when the ears expect them. If not, they ring false. They only -incline hearts which have already abdicated their will." - -Leonor was very sincerely in love with Rose; hence he was very unhappy. -He imagined, moreover, that M. Hervart was already completely pardoned. -Rose was only awaiting some act of humility to give herself to him -again. - -"She is hurt in her pride. Her heart is happy, if happiness consists -in loving much more than in being loved. It is a painful pleasure, but -none the less a pleasure, for her to talk of M. Hervart...." - -That evening Leonor had no difficulty in putting on a melancholy and -disenchanted look. He felt these two emotions to perfection, and Rose, -who could not help looking at him, noticed it. - -"Can he really be in love with me," she wondered, "----he?" - -The next morning, when she woke up, she asked herself the same -dangerous question. Then suddenly, a wave of red mounted to her head. -She had just remembered all the amusements into which her own innocence -and M. Hervart's perverse good-nature had led her. - -"I am dishonoured," she said to herself. "Am I a maiden?" - -This was the first time that she had felt any shame in calling to mind -the kisses and caresses in which her heart, rather than her body, had -felt pleasure. Though she was unconscious of the transference, the pain -which she still felt had, without changing its nature, changed its -cause. - -When Leonor said good-morning she felt herself blushing and immediately -turned her head, to discover an imaginary piece of thread on her skirt. - -"So it's to-morrow that we shall have to drive you back," said M. Des -Boys. - -"If the garden isn't arranged before the winter," said Rose, "we shall -have to wait till next autumn." - -"Obviously," said Leonor; "one can't transplant in the spring. At -least, it's a most delicate operation." - -"Well, then, stay and let's finish it off," said M. Des Boys. - -Leonor stayed. - -"Since I have made a declaration and it has been successful, I shall -now pay my addresses. Can it be that the old methods are the best?" - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - -In those last autumn days, under the rain of dead leaves, they enjoyed -delicious hours. Leonor lived attentively, taking care that no -single word of his might shock the young girl. Rose, her eyes always -sad, answered with cordial politeness. Their words were measured, -insignificant, but they were uttered in a voice full of a secret -emotion. - -They directed the alterations together, giving no orders without -consulting one another; and they were soon agreed about everything, for -their only desire was to stand together looking at the workmen. They -confined themselves to cutting a few useful paths, transplanting a few -bushes and arranging the lawns and flower-beds. - -The decisive gestures in life are almost always the simplest, the most -ingenuous. Discovering a few sprigs of violet under a wall, picking -them, offering them to her: that was the act which won for Leonor his -first smile from the girl, a smile that was still vague, a smile in -which the soul, so long solicited, showed itself for an instant, as -though at a window visited at last by the sun. - -One day, while they were holding a lilac that was being transplanted, -their hands met. Rose withdrew hers without affectation, but a little -later she approached it once more and perhaps that tree, as it was -wrenched from the earth, felt a thrill of love passing through its -sleeping trunk. - -Leonor thought of nothing but the charm of his present life; he -analysed himself no more; he made no plots or projects; he breathed -pure air, he was opening out. - -Though less wretched, Rose still suffered. One evening, when she was -undressing to go to bed, she called to mind all the liberties she had -permitted. No detail was spared her, and it was in vain that her body -revolted; along her nerves she felt the now shameful shudder of her -former voluptuousness. She threw herself into her bed and soon, in the -warmth, the imaginary contacts grew more numerous and precise. Then, -losing her head, she yielded and went to sleep in a trance of pleasure. - -Accordingly, in the mornings, she was apt to be a little peevish. -Leonor seemed, at these moments, to lose all he had gained in the -afternoons; but he was not disturbed by it. He knew that characters -change according to the time of day, as they change according to the -season. Happy in being able to hope for everything, he waited without -impatience. Exorcising Rose demanded a whole morning of Leonor's -company. The sound of his voice, rather than his words, calmed her -possessed spirit. She would end by doubting the very existence of the -spell from which she had been released and, by the time lunch was over, -she was a child smiling at love. - -Some evenings the crisis was very intense. Hardly had she entered her -room when she seemed to receive a kind of imperious injunction to look -at herself in the glass. Standing there, she would press her shoulders -feverishly. Then she felt herself lifted up and carried to her bed, at -the mercy of the demon of love. At other times the obsession was less -malignant and she was able to attempt some resistance. The fall was -slow, gradual and sometimes incomplete. She noticed that she had more -peace and more strength on the evenings when she had, by her attitude, -encouraged Leonor to make some tenderer utterance, and that fact caused -her great joy. For she loved her exorcist; like a sick woman full of -confidence, she loved her doctor. - -Now she appeared more humble and at the same time almost provocative. -She allowed her eyes to rest more often and for a longer time on the -young man's face. She even came to studying his face when he was -looking, and, though she dropped her eyes quickly at the first alarm, -Leonor noticed it. - -"She loves me, she loves me. Ah! this time she will listen to me, and -perhaps she will speak." - -But, by dint of loving innocently, Leonor had become shy; and several -days passed in the motions of the eyes and heart. Rose derived great -consolation from them. One evening, when the obsession had almost left -her in peace and she was about to go to sleep victorious, she suddenly -saw herself once more in the drawing room. Leonor was offering her a -marvellous flower of a kind she did not recognise. She took it and when -she smelt it felt an inexpressible sweetness slowly penetrate her whole -being; she was asleep. - -She awoke full of joy, a thing that had not happened since the day -of her great grief. She was smiling at Leonor before she had even -seen him. They met on the stairs. Leonor heard a door slam, the sound -of hurrying feet. He drew back to make passage room. It was Rose. -Playfully, as she had already allowed him to do, he made as though to -bar her way. - -"You shan't pass," he said. - -"Very well, I won't pass." - -And she fell into the open arms that closed at once round her body--a -happy prisoner. - -"Do you love me, then? At last?" - -"Yes, I love you." - -Rose never once remembered that it was thus she had fallen into M. -Hervart's arms in the staircase of the tower. She forgot in its -entirety the first adventure of her poor abused heart and her troubled -senses. When M. Hervart's name was pronounced in her presence, it -recalled to her those studious walks at Robinvast with that old friend -of her father's who told her the anecdotes of entomology. - -M. Des Boys, as he had resolved, revealed to his daughter what he -called the misfortunes of M. Hervart. And so, when she heard that -he was to marry Mme. Suif, she allowed herself an honest smile of -commiseration. That happened in the third year of their marriage; they -were spending the season at Grandcamp, where, without knowing her, she -often rubbed shoulders with a young woman who had played a decisive -part in her history. - -Leonor was wandering one morning on this same beach where Gratienne had -attracted him; but he was not thinking of Gratienne, who as it happened -was looking at him, from a distance, with interest. He was thinking of -Hortense, of whose death he had seen the announcement in a local paper; -of Hortense, who had written him, on the eve of his marriage, a letter -so moving in its proud resignation that it had almost made him weep; -of Hortense whom he had loved and who perhaps had died because of his -happiness. - -When he came back, Rose received him as a lover is received. She had -found in marriage the attentions which her nature demanded. She was -happy. - - -THE END - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Virgin Heart, by Remy de Gourmont - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A VIRGIN HEART *** - -***** This file should be named 44384-8.txt or 44384-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/3/8/44384/ - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at http://www.freeliterature.org -(Images generously made available by the Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: A Virgin Heart - A Novel - -Author: Remy de Gourmont - -Translator: Aldous Huxley - -Release Date: December 8, 2013 [EBook #44384] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A VIRGIN HEART *** - - - - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at http://www.freeliterature.org -(Images generously made available by the Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - - -<h1>A VIRGIN HEART</h1> - -<h3>A Novel</h3> - -<h3>BY</h3> - -<h2>REMY DE GOURMONT</h2> - -<h3>Authorized Translation</h3> - -<h3>by</h3> - -<h3>ALDOUS HUXLEY</h3> - -<h5>Toronto</h5> - -<h5>THE MUSSON BOOK COMPANY LIMITED</h5> - -<h5>1922</h5> - - - -<hr class="full" /> -<h4>Preface</h4> - - -<p>The author had thought of qualifying this book: A Novel Without -Hypocrisy; but he reflected that these words might appear unseemly, -since hypocrisy is becoming more and more fashionable.</p> - -<p>He next thought of: A Physiological Novel; but that was still worse -in this age of great converts, when grace from on high so opportunely -purifies the petty human passions.</p> - -<p>These two sub-titles being barred, nothing was left; he has therefore -put nothing.</p> - -<p>A novel is a novel. And it would be no more than that if the author -had not attempted, by an analysis that knows no scruples, to reveal in -these pages what may be called the seamy side of a "virgin heart" to -show that innocence has its instincts, its needs, its physiological -dues.</p> - -<p>A young girl is not merely a young heart, but a young human body, all -complete.</p> - -<p>Such is the subject of this novel, which must, in spite of everything, -be called "physiological."</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 75%; font-size: 0.8em;">R. G.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h3>A VIRGIN HEART</h3> - - - -<h4>CHAPTER I</h4> - - -<p>The terrace was in a ruinous state, over-grown with grass and brambles -and acacias. The girl was leaning on the Parapet, eating mulberries. -She displayed her purple-stained hands and laughed. M. Hervart -looked-up.</p> - -<p>"You've got a moustache as well," he said. "It looks very funny."</p> - -<p>"But I don't want to look funny."</p> - -<p>She walked to the little stream flowing close at hand, wetted her -handkerchief and began wiping her mouth.</p> - -<p>M. Hervart's eyes returned to his magnifying glass; he went on -examining the daisy on which he had two scarlet bugs so closely joined -together that they seemed a single insect. They had gone to sleep in -the midst of their love-making, and but for the quivering of their -long antennæ, you would have thought they were dead. M. Hervart would -have liked to watch the ending of this little scene of passion; but it -might go on for hours. He lost heart.</p> - -<p>"What's more," he reflected, "I know that the male does not die on the -spot; he goes running about in search of food as soon as he's free. -Still, I would have liked to see the mechanism of separation. That will -come with luck. One must always count on luck, whether one is studying -animals or men. To be sure, there is also patience, perseverance...."</p> - -<p>He made a little movement with his head signifying, no doubt, that -patience and perseverance were not in his line. Then, very gently he -laid the flower with its sleeping burden on the parapet of the terrace. -It was only then he noticed that Rose was no longer there.</p> - -<p>"I must have annoyed her by what I said about the moustache. It wasn't -true, either. But there are moments when that child gets on my nerves -with that look of hers, as though she wanted to be kissed. And yet, if -I did so much as to lay my hand on her shoulder, I should get my face -smacked. A curious creature. But then all women are curious creatures, -girls above all."</p> - -<p>Carefully wiping his glass, M. Hervart stepped across the stream and -entered the wood.</p> - -<p>M. Hervart was about forty. He was tall and thin; sometimes, when his -curiosity had kept him poring over something for too long at a stretch -he stooped a little. His eyes were bright and penetrating, despite the -fact that one of them had, it would seem, been narrowed and shrunk by -the use of the microscope. His clear-complexioned face, with its light -pointed beard, was pleasant, without being striking.</p> - -<p>He was the keeper of the department of Greek sculpture at the Louvre, -but the cold beauty of the marbles interested him little, and -archæology even less. He was a lover of life, who divided his days -between women and animals. Studying the habits of insects was his -favourite hobby. He was often to be seen at the Zoological Gardens, -or else, more often than at his office, in the animal-shop round the -corner. His evenings he devoted to amusement, frequenting every kind -of society. To sympathetic audiences he liked to give out that he was -the descendant of the M. d'Hervart whose wife had La Fontaine for a -lover. He used also to say that it was only his professional duties -that had prevented his making himself a name as a naturalist. But the -opinion of most people was that M. Hervart was, in all he did, nothing -more than a clever amateur, ruined by a great deal of indolence.</p> - -<p>Every two or three years he used to go and stay with his friend M. -Desbois at his manor of Robinvast, near Cherbourg. M. Desbois was a -retired commercial sculptor, who had recently ennobled himself by means -of a Y and one or two other little changes. When M. Des Boys burst -upon the world, Hervart appeared not to notice the metamorphosis. That -earned him an increase in affection, and whenever he came to visit, -Mme. Des Boys would take almost excessive pains about the cooking.</p> - -<p>Mme. Des Boys, who had been sentimental and romantic in her youth -and had remained all her life rather a silly woman, had insisted on -calling her daughter Rose. It would have been a ridiculous name—Rose -Des Boys—if Rose had been the sort of girl to tolerate the repetition -of a foolish compliment. Ordinarily she was a gay and gentle creature, -but she could be chilling, could ignore and disregard you in the -cruellest fashion. Her parents adored her and were afraid of her: so -they allowed her to do what she liked. She was twenty years old.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, M. Hervart was looking for Rose. He did not dare call her, -because he did not know what name to use. In conversation he said: You; -before strangers, Mademoiselle; in his own mind, Rose.</p> - -<p>"She was much nicer two years ago. She listened to what I had to say. -She obeyed me. She caught insects for me. This is the critical moment -now. If we were bugs...."</p> - -<p>He went on:</p> - -<p>"Whether it's women or beetles, love is their whole life. Bugs die -as soon as their work is done, and women begin dying from the moment -of their first kiss.... They also begin living. It's pretty, the -spectacle of these girls who want to live, want to fulfil their -destiny, and don't know how, and go sobbing through the darkness, -looking for their way. I expect I shall find her crying."</p> - -<p>Rose, indeed, had just finished wiping her eyes. They were blue when -she was sad and greenish when she laughed.</p> - -<p>"You've been crying. Did you prick yourself coming through this holly? -I did too."</p> - -<p>"I shouldn't cry for a thing like that. But who told you I'd been -crying? I got a fly in my eye. Look, only one of them's red."</p> - -<p>But, instead of lifting her head, she bent down and began to pick the -flowers at her feet.</p> - -<p>"May I sit down beside you?"</p> - -<p>"What a question!"</p> - -<p>"You see, your skirt takes up all the room."</p> - -<p>"Well then, push it away."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart turned back the outspread skirt and sat down on the old -bench—cautiously, for he knew that it was rather rickety. Now that he -had money and an aristocratic name, M. Des Boys had become romantic. -His whole domain, except for the kitchen garden and the rooms that -were actually inhabited, was kept in a perennially wild, decrepit -state. In the house and its surroundings you could see nothing but -mouldering walls and rotten planks moss-grown benches, impenetrable -bramble bushes. Near the stream stood an old tower from which the ivy -fell in a cataract whose waves of greenery splashed up again to the -summit of an old oak with dead forked branches—a pretty sight. The Des -Boys never went out except to show their virgin forest to a visitor. M. -Des Boys dabbled in painting.</p> - -<p>It was morning, and the wood was cool, still damp with dew. Through -the thickly woven beech branches the sunlight fell on the stiff holly -leaves and lit them up like flowers. A little chestnut tree, that had -sprouted all awry raised its twisted head towards the light! Near-by -stood a wild cherry, into which the sparrows darted, twittering and -alarmed. A jay passed like a flash of blue lightning. The wind crept in -beneath the trees, stirring the bracken that darkened and lightened at -its passage. A wounded bee fell on Rose's skirt.</p> - -<p>"Poor bee! One of his wings is unhooked. I'll try and put it right."</p> - -<p>"Take care," said Mr. Hervart. "It will sting. Animals never believe -that you mean well by them. To them every one's an enemy."</p> - -<p>"True," said Rose, shaking off the bee. "Your bugs will eat him and -that will be a happy ending. Every one's an enemy."</p> - -<p>Rose had spoken so bitterly that M. Hervart was quite distressed. He -brought his face close to hers as her big straw hat would permit, and -whispered:</p> - -<p>"Are you unhappy?"</p> - -<p>How beautifully women manage these things! In a flash the hat had -disappeared, tossed almost angrily aside, and at the same moment an -exquisitely pale and fluffy head dropped on to M. Hervart's shoulder.</p> - -<p>It was a touching moment. Much moved, the man put his arm round the -girl's waist. His hand took possession of the little hand that she -surrendered to him. He had only to turn and bend his head a little, and -he was kissing, close below the hair, a white forehead, feverishly -moist. He felt her abandonment to him becoming more deliberate; the -hand he was holding squeezed his own.</p> - -<p>Rose made an abrupt movement which parted them, and looking full at M. -Hervart, her face radiant with tenderness, she said:</p> - -<p>"I'm not unhappy now."</p> - -<p>She got up, and they moved away together through the wood, exchanging -little insignificant phrases in voices full of tenderness. Each time -their eyes met, they smiled. They kept on fingering leaves, flowers, -mere pieces of wood, so as to have an excuse for touching each other's -hand. Coming to a clearing where they could walk abreast, they allowed -their arms on the inner side to hang limply down, so that their hands -touched and were soon joined.</p> - -<p>There was a silence, prolonged and very delightful. Each, meanwhile, -was absorbed in his own thoughts.</p> - -<p>"Obviously," M. Hervart was saying to himself, "if I have any sense -left, I shall take the train home. First of all, I must go to Cherbourg -and send a telegram to some one who can send a wire to recall me. What -a nuisance! I was joying myself so much here. To whom shall I appeal? -To Gratienne? I shall have to write a letter in that case, to concoct -some story. Three or four days longer won't make matters any worse; I -know these young girls. Time doesn't exist for them; they live in the -absolute. So long as there's no jealousy—and I don't see how there -can be—I shall be all right. She is really charming—Rose. Lord! -what a state of excitement I'm in! But I must be reasonable. I shall -tell Gratienne to meet me at Grandcamp. She has been longing to go to -Grandcamp ever since she read that novel about the place. Besides, -there are the rocks. I'm quite indifferent provided I get away from -here...."</p> - -<p>"What are you thinking about?"</p> - -<p>"Can you ask, my dear child?"</p> - -<p>A squeeze from the little hand showed that his answer had been -understood. Silence settled down once more.</p> - -<p>"Gratienne? At this very moment she's probably with another lover. But -then, think of leaving a woman alone in Paris, in July? 'I am never -bored. I dine at Mme. Fleury's every day; she loves having me. We start -for Honfleur on the 25th. You must come and see us.' She imagines that -Honfleur is close to Cherbourg. 'I am never bored,' Come, come; When -women speak so clearly, it means they have nothing to hide.... On the -contrary it's one of their tricks...."</p> - -<p>"Well, my child, how's your wretchedness? Is it all over?"</p> - -<p>"I am very happy," Rose answered.</p> - -<p>A look from her big limpid eyes confirmed these solemn words and M. -Hervart was more moved than at the moment of her surrender. The idea -that he was the cause of this child's happiness filled him with pride.</p> - -<p>"Better not disturb Gratienne. She's so suspicious. Whom shall I write -to, then? My colleagues? No, I'm not on intimate enough terms. Gauvain, -the animal-shop man? That would be humiliating. What a bore it all -is! Leave it; we'll see later on. And after all, what's the matter? -A little sentimental friendship. Rose lives such a lonely life. Why -should I rob her of the innocent pleasure of playing—at sentiment -with me? Summer-holiday amusements...."</p> - -<p>"Oh," said Rose, "look at that beetle. Isn't he handsome."</p> - -<p>But the animal, superb in its gold and sapphire armour, had disappeared -under the dead leaves. They thought no more about it. Rose was occupied -by very different thoughts. She felt herself filled with an exultant -tenderness.</p> - -<p>"I don't belong to myself anymore. It's very thrilling. What is going -to happen? He'll kiss me on the eyes. There'll be no resisting, because -I belong to him."</p> - -<p>She lifted her head and looked at M. Hervart She seemed to be offering -her eyes. Without changing her position she closed them. A kiss settled -lightly on her soft eyelids.</p> - -<p>"He does everything I expect him to do. Does he read my thoughts or do -I read his?"</p> - -<p>Meanwhile M. Hervart was trying to find something gallant or -sentimental to say, and could think of nothing.</p> - -<p>"I might praise her chestnut hair, with its golden lights, tell her how -fine and silky it is. But is it? And besides, it might be a little -premature. What shall I praise? Her mouth? Its rather large. Her nose? -It's a little too hooked. Her complexion? Is it a compliment to say -it's pale and opaque? Her eyes? That would look like an allusion. -They're pretty, though—her eyes, the way they change colour."</p> - -<p>He had picked a blade of grass as he walked. It was covered with -little black moving specks. "What a bore," said M. Hervart, "I've -forgotten to bring my microscope."</p> - -<p>"I've got one, only the reflector's broken. It will have to be sent to -Cherbourg."</p> - -<p>"Couldn't you take it yourself?"</p> - -<p>"If you like."</p> - -<p>"But wouldn't you enjoy it, Rose?"</p> - -<p>She was so pleased at being called Rose, that for a moment she did not -answer. Then she said, blushing:</p> - -<p>"You see, I scarcely ever go out of this place: the idea hardly occurs -to me. But I should love to go with you."</p> - -<p>She added with a spoilt child's tone of authority: "I'll go and tell -father. We'll start after luncheon."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart looked once more at his indecipherable grass blade.</p> - -<p>"I know a good shop," he said. "Lepoultel the marine optician. Do you -know him? He's a friend of Gauvain's...."</p> - -<p>"The animal man?"</p> - -<p>"What, do you mean to say you remember that?"</p> - -<p>"I remember everything you tell me," answered Rose, very seriously.</p> - -<p>M. Hervart was flattered. It occurred to him also that this sentimental -child might make a very good practical little wife. His rather curious -life passed rapidly before him and he called to mind some of the -mistresses of his fugitive amours. He saw Gratienne; it was six months -since they had met; she would have left him, very likely, by the time -he returned. At this thought M. Hervart frowned. At the same time the -pressure of his fingers relaxed.</p> - -<p>Rose looked at him:</p> - -<p>"What are you thinking about?"</p> - -<p>"Again!" said M. Hervart to himself. "Oh, that eternal feminine -question! As if any one ever answered it! Here's my answer...."</p> - -<p>Looking at the clouds, he pronounced:</p> - -<p>"I think it's going to rain."</p> - -<p>"Oh, no!" said Rose, "I don't think so. The wind is 'suet'...."</p> - -<p>Conscious of having uttered a provincialism, she made haste to add:</p> - -<p>"As the country people say."</p> - -<p>"What does it mean?"</p> - -<p>"South-east."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart was little interested in dialectal forms; rather spitefully -and with the true Parisian's fatuous vanity, he replied:</p> - -<p>"What an ugly word! You ought to say South-east. You're a regular -peasant woman."</p> - -<p>"Laugh away," said Rose. "I don't mind, now. We're all country-people; -my father comes from these parts, so does my mother. I wasn't born -here, but I belong to the place. I belong to it as the trees do, as the -grass and all the animals. Yes, I <i>am</i> a peasant woman."</p> - -<p>She raised her head proudly.</p> - -<p>"I come from here too," said M. Hervart.</p> - -<p>"Yes, and you don't care for it any longer."</p> - -<p>"I do, because it produced you and because you love it."</p> - -<p>Delighted at the discovery of this insipidity, M. Hervart darted, hat -in hand, in pursuit of a butterfly; he missed it.</p> - -<p>"They're not so easy to catch as kisses," said Rose with a touch of -irony.</p> - -<p>M. Hervart was startled.</p> - -<p>"Is she merely sensual?" he wondered.</p> - -<p>But Rose was incapable of dividing her nature into categories. She -felt her character as a perfect unity. Her remark had been just a -conversational remark, for she was not lacking in wit.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, this mystery plunged M. Hervart into a prolonged meditation. -He constructed the most perverse theories about the precocity of girls.</p> - -<p>But he was soon ashamed of these mental wanderings.</p> - -<p>"Women are complex; not more so, of course, than men, but in a -different way which men can't understand. They don't understand -themselves, and what's more, they don't care about understanding. They -feel, and that suffices to steer them very satisfactorily through life, -as well as to solve problems which leave men utterly helpless. One -must act towards them as they do themselves. It's only through the -feelings that one can get into contact with them. There is but one way -of understanding women, and that is to love them.... Why shouldn't -I say that aloud? It would amuse her, and perhaps she might find -something pretty to say in reply."</p> - -<p>But, without being exactly shy, M. Hervart was nervous about hearing -the sound of his own voice. That was why he generally gave vent only -to the curtest phrases. Rose had taken his hand once more. This mute -language seemed to appeal to her, and M. Hervart was content to put up -with it, though he found this exchange of manual confidences a little -childish.</p> - -<p>"But nothing," he went on to himself, "nothing is childish in love...."</p> - -<p>This word, which he did not pronounce, even to himself, but which -he seemed to see, as though his own hand had written it on a sheet -of paper this word filled him with terror. He burst out into secret -protestations:</p> - -<p>"But there's no question of love. She doesn't love me. I don't love -her. It's a mere game. This child has made me a child like herself...."</p> - -<p>He wanted to stop thinking, but the process went on of its own accord.</p> - -<p>"A dangerous game.... I oughtn't to have kissed her eyes. Her forehead, -that's a different matter; it's fatherly.... And then letting her lean -on my shoulder, like that! What's to be done?"</p> - -<p>He had to admit that he had been the guilty party. Almost -unconsciously, prompted by his mere male instinct, he had, since his -arrival a fortnight before, and while still to all appearance, he -continued to treat her as a child, been silently courting her. He was -always looking at her, smiling to her, even though his words might -be serious. Feeling herself the object of an unceasing attention, -Rose had concluded that he wanted to capture her, and she had allowed -herself to be caught. M. Hervart considered himself too expert in -feminine psychology to admit the possibility of a young girl's having -deliberately taken the first step. He felt like an absent-minded -sportsman who, forgetting that he has fired, wakes up to find a -partridge in his game-bag.</p> - -<p>"An agreeable surprise," he reflected. "Almost too agreeable."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER II</h4> - - -<p>It had already grown hot. They sat down in the shade, on a tree trunk. -Large harmless ants crawled hither and thither on the bark, but M. -Hervart seemed to have lost his interest in entomology. Idly, they -looked at the busy little creatures, crossing and recrossing one -another's paths.</p> - -<p>"Do they know what they're doing? And do I know what I'm doing? Some -sensation guides them. What about me? They run here and there, because -they think they've seen or smelt some prey. And I? Oh, I should like to -run away from my prey. I reason, I deliberate.... Yes, I deliberate, or -at least I try."</p> - -<p>He looked up at the girl.</p> - -<p>Rose was engaged in pulling foxglove buds off their stems and making -them pop in the palm of her hand. Her face was serious. M. Hervart -could look at her without distracting her from her dreams.</p> - -<p>She made a pretty picture, as she sat there, gentle and, at the same -time, wild. Her features, while they still preserved a trace of -childishness, were growing marked and definite. She was a woman. How -red her mouth was, how voluptuous! M. Hervart caught himself reflecting -that that mouth would give most excellent kisses. What a fruit to bite, -firm-fleshed and succulent! Rose heaved a sigh, and it was as though -a wave had lifted her white dress; all her young bosom had seemed to -expand. M. Hervart had a vision of roseate whiteness, soft and living; -he desired it as a child desires the peach he sees on the wall hidden -under its long leaves. He took the pleasure in this desire that he had -sometimes taken in standing before Titian's Portrait of a Young Lady. -The obstacle was as insurmountable: Rose, so far as he was concerned, -was an illusion.</p> - -<p>"But that makes no difference," he said to himself, "I have desired -her, which isn't chaste of me. If I had been in love with her, I should -not have had that kind of vision. Therefore I am not in love with her. -Fortunately!"</p> - -<p>Rose was thinking of nothing. She was just letting herself be looked -at. Having been examined, she smiled gently, a smile that was faintly -tinged with shyness. Flying suddenly to the opposite extreme, she burst -out laughing and, holding on with both hands to the knotted trunk, -leaned backwards. Her hat fell off her hair came undone. She sat up -again, looking wilder than ever. M. Hervart thought that she was going -to run away, like Galatea; but there was no willow tree.</p> - -<p>"I don't care," she said as M. Hervart handed her the hat; "my hair -will have to stay down. It's all right like that. Pins don't hold on my -head."</p> - -<p>"Pins," said M. Hervart, "pins rarely do hold on women's heads."</p> - -<p>She smiled without answering and certainly without understanding. She -was smiling a great deal this morning, M. Hervart thought.</p> - -<p>"But her smile is so sweet that I should never get tired of it. Come -now, I'll tell her that...."</p> - -<p>"I love your smile. It's so sweet that I should never get tired of it."</p> - -<p>"As sweet as that? That's because it's so new. I don't smile much -generally."</p> - -<p>It was enough to move any man to the depths of his being. M. Hervart -murmured spontaneously:</p> - -<p>"I love you, Rose."</p> - -<p>Frankly, and without showing any surprise, she answered:</p> - -<p>"So do I, my dear."</p> - -<p>At the same time she shook her skirt on which a number of ants were -crawling.</p> - -<p>"This sort doesn't bite," she said. "They're nice...."</p> - -<p>"Like you." (What a compliment! How insipid! What a fool I'm making of -myself!)</p> - -<p>"There's one on your sleeve," said Rose. She brushed it off.</p> - -<p>"Now say thank you," and she presented her cheek, on which M. Hervart -printed the most fraternal of kisses.</p> - -<p>"It's incomprehensible," he thought. "However, I don't think she's in -love. If she were, she would run away. It is only after the decisive -act that love becomes familiar...."</p> - -<p>"If we want to go to Cherbourg," said Rose, "we must have lunch early."</p> - -<p>They moved away; soon they were out of the wood and had entered the -hardly less unkempt garden. It was sunny there, and they crossed it -quickly. She walked ahead. M. Hervart picked a rose as he went along -and presented it to her. Rose took it and picked another, which she -gave to M. Hervart, saying:</p> - -<p>"This one's me."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart had to begin pondering again. He was feeling happy, but -understood less and less.</p> - -<p>"She behaves as though she were in love with me.... She also behaves -as though she weren't. At one moment one would think that I was -everything to her. A little later she treats me like a mere friend of -the family..... And it's she who leads me on.... I have never seen -that with flirts.... Where can she have learnt it? Women are like the -noblemen in Molière's time: they know everything without having been -taught anything at all."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart weighed down in mind, but light of heart, went up to his -room, so as to be able to meditate more at ease. First of all he -smarted himself up with some care. He plucked from his beard a hair, -which, if not quite silver, was certainly very pale gold. He scented -his waistcoat and slipped on his finger an elaborately chased ring.</p> - -<p>"It may come in useful when conversation begins to flag."</p> - -<p>He was about to begin his meditations, when somebody knocked at the -door. Luncheon was ready.</p> - -<p>M. Des Boys, despite the disturbance of his plans seemed pleased. A -drive, he declared would do him good. He needed an outing; besides he -had a right to one.</p> - -<p>"I have just finished the ninth panel of my of my life of Sainte -Clotilde. It is her entry too the convent of Saint Martin at Tours."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart manifested an interest in this composition, which he had -admired the previous evening before it had been given the final -touches. He hoped to see it soon in its proper frame, with the other -panels in Robinvast church.</p> - -<p>"There are going to be twelve in all," said M. Des Boys.</p> - -<p>"People will come and see them as they do the Life of St. Bruno that -used to be at the Chartreux and is now in the Louvre."</p> - -<p>"So I hope."</p> - -<p>"But they won't come quite so much."</p> - -<p>"Yes, Robinvast is rather far. But then who goes to the Louvre? A few -artists, a few aimless foreign sightseers. Nobody in France takes an -interest in art."</p> - -<p>"Nobody in the world does," said M. Hervart, "except those who live by -it."</p> - -<p>"What about those who die of it?" asked Rose.</p> - -<p>Mme. Des Boys looked at her daughter with some surprise:</p> - -<p>"I have never heard that painting was a dangerous industry."</p> - -<p>"When one believes in it, it is," said M. Hervart.</p> - -<p>"What, not dangerous?" said M. Des Boys "What about white lead?"</p> - -<p>"One must believe," said Rose, looking at M. Hervart.</p> - -<p>"This just shows," M. Des Boys went on, "what the public's point of -view in this matter is. My wife's marvellously absurd remark exactly -represents their feelings."</p> - -<p>There followed a series of pointless anecdotes on Mme. Des Boys' -habitual absence of mind. M. Hervart very nearly forgot to laugh: he -was thinking of what Rose had just said.</p> - -<p>"Rose," said M. Des Boys, "ask Hervart if we weren't believers when we -went around the Louvre. We were in a fever of enthusiasm. Hervart is my -pupil; I formed his taste for beauty. Unluckily I left Paris and he has -turned out badly. I remain faithful, in spite of everything."</p> - -<p>"But" said M. Hervart, "faithfulness only begins at the moment of -discovering one's real vocation."</p> - -<p>Rose seemed to have given these words a meaning which M. Hervart had -not consciously intended they should have. Two eyes, full of an -infinite tenderness, rested on his like a caress.</p> - -<p>"It's as though I had made a declaration," he thought. "I must be mad. -But how can one avoid phrases which people go and take as premeditated -allusions?"</p> - -<p>However, he found the game amusing. It was possible in this way to -speak in public and to give utterance to one's real feelings under -cover of the commonplaces of conversation. Rose had given him the -example; he had followed her without thinking, but this docility was a -serious symptom.</p> - -<p>"I am lost. Here I am in process of falling in love."</p> - -<p>But like those drunkards who, feeling the moment of intoxication at -hand, desire to control themselves, but must still obey their cravings -because they have been so far weakened by the very sensation that now -awakens them to a consciousness of their state, M. Hervart, while -deciding that he ought to struggle, yielded.</p> - -<p>He drank off a whole glass of wine and said:</p> - -<p>"It is easy to make a mistake at one's first entry into life, and to go -on making it long after. I am still very fond of art, but I was never -meant to do more than pay her visits. We are friends, not a married -couple. I have built my house on other foundations; it may be worth -much or little, but I live in it faithfully. One can only stick to what -one loves. To keep a treasure, you must have found it first."</p> - -<p>He had spoken with passion.</p> - -<p>"What eloquence!" said M. Des Boys.</p> - -<p>All of a sudden, Rose began to laugh, a laugh so happy, so full of -gratitude, that M. Hervart could make no mistake about its meaning.</p> - -<p>"You're being laughed at, my poor friend," M. Des Boys went on.</p> - -<p>At this mistake, Rose's laughter redoubled. It became gay, childish, -uncontrollable.</p> - -<p>"This is something," said Mme. Des Boys, "which will console you, I -hope. But what a little demon my daughter is!"</p> - -<p>Out of pity for her mother, Rose made an effort to restrain herself. -She succeeded after two or three renewed spasms and said, addressing -herself to M. Hervart:</p> - -<p>"What do you think of the little demon? Are you afraid?"</p> - -<p>"More than you think."</p> - -<p>"So am I; I'm afraid of myself."</p> - -<p>"That's a sensible remark," said Mme. Des Boys. "Come now, behave."</p> - -<p>The home-made cake being approved of, she began giving the recipe. -A meal rarely passed without Mme. Des Boys' revealing some culinary -mystery.</p> - -<p>The carriage drove past the windows, and lunch ended almost without -further conversation. Rose had become dreamy. M. Hervart's conclusion -was:</p> - -<p>"Our affair has made the most terrifying progress in these few -seconds."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER III</h4> - - -<p>He went on with his meditations in the little wagonette which carried -them to Couville station. Rose was sitting opposite; their feet, -naturally, came into contact.</p> - -<p>M. Des Boys, who owned several farms, stopped to examine the state of -the crops. In some of the fields the corn had been beaten down. He got -up on the box beside the driver to ask him whether it was the same -throughout the whole district. He was very disquieted.</p> - -<p>M. Hervart stretched out his legs, so that he held the girl's knees -between his own. She smiled. M. Hervart, a little oppressed by his -emotions, dared not speak. He took her hand and kissed it.</p> - -<p>All of a sudden, Rose exclaimed: "We have forgotten the microscope!"</p> - -<p>"So we have! our pretext. What will become of us?"</p> - -<p>"But do we need a pretext, now?"</p> - -<p>M. Hervart renewed the pressure of his prisoning knees. That was his -first answer.</p> - -<p>"We're conspirators, Rose," he then said. "It's serious."</p> - -<p>"I hope so."</p> - -<p>"We have been conspirators for a long time."</p> - -<p>"Since this morning, yes."</p> - -<p>She blushed a little.</p> - -<p>"From that moment," M. Hervart went on, "when you said, 'One must -believe.'"</p> - -<p>"I said what I thought."</p> - -<p>"It's what I think too."</p> - -<p>"In this way," he said to himself, "I say what I ought to say without -going too far. 'Oh, if only I dared!"</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, he was disturbed by the thought of the microscope.</p> - -<p>"I shall buy one," he said, "and leave it with you. It will be of use -to me when I come again."</p> - -<p>"Stop," said Rose; her voice was low, but its tone was violent. "When -you talk of coming again, you're talking of going away."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart had nothing to answer. He got out of the difficulty by -renewing the pressure of his legs.</p> - -<p>They reached the little lonely station. The train came in, and a -quarter of an hour later they were in Cherbourg.</p> - -<p>M. Des Boys at once announced his intention of going to see the museum. -He wanted to look at a few masterpieces, he said, so that he might -once more compare his own art with that of the great men. M. Hervart -protested. For him, a holiday consisted in getting away from museums. -Furthermore, he regarded this particular collection, with its list of -great names, as being in large part apocryphal.</p> - -<p>"If the catalogue of the Louvre is false, as it is, what must the -catalogue of the Cherbourg museum be like?" he asked.</p> - -<p>M. Des Boys shrugged his shoulders:</p> - -<p>"You have lost my esteem."</p> - -<p>And he affirmed the perfect authenticity of the Van Dycks, Van Eycks, -Chardins, Poussins, Murillos, Jordaenses, Ribeiras, Fra Angelicos, -Cranachs, Pourbuses and Leonardos which adorned the town hall.</p> - -<p>"There's no Raphael," said M. Hervart, "and there ought to be a -Velasquez and a Titian and a Correggio."</p> - -<p>M. Des Boys replied sarcastically:</p> - -<p>"There's a Natural History museum."</p> - -<p>And with a wave of the hand, he disappeared round the corner of a -street.</p> - -<p>One would think everything in this dreary maritime city had been -arranged to disguise the fact that the sea is there. The houses turn -their backs on it, and a desert of stones and dust and wind lies -between the shores and the town. To discover that Cherbourg is really a -seaport, one must climb to the top of the Roule rock. M. Hervart had a -desire to scale this pinnacle.</p> - -<p>"It's a waste of time," said Rose; "let's go up the tower in the Liais -gardens."</p> - -<p>Side by side, they walked through the dismal streets. Rose kept on -looking at M. Hervart; she was disquieted by his silence. She took his -arm.</p> - -<p>"I didn't dare offer it to you," he said.</p> - -<p>"That's why I took it myself."</p> - -<p>"I do enjoy walking with you like this, Rose."</p> - -<p>But as a matter of fact he was most embarrassed. This privilege was at -once too innocent and too free. He wondered what he should do to keep -it within its present bounds.</p> - -<p>"If this is going on.... And to think it only started this morning...."</p> - -<p>He reassured himself by this most logical piece of reasoning:</p> - -<p>"Either I do or I don't want to marry her; in either case I shall -have to respect her.... That's evident. Being neither a fool nor a -blackguard, I have nothing to fear from myself. The civilised instinct; -I'm very civilised...."</p> - -<p>They were lightly clad. As he held her arm, he could feel its warmth -burning into his flesh.</p> - -<p>"Distressing fact! in love you can never be sure of anything or -anybody, least of all of yourself. I'm helpless in the hands of desire. -And then, at the same time as my own, I must calm down this child's -over-exited nerves. Nerves? No, feelings. Feelings lead anywhere.... -What a fool I am, making mental sermons like this! I'm spoiling -delicious moments."</p> - -<p>A house like all the others, a carriage door, a vaulted passage—and -behold, you were in a great garden, where the brilliance and scent -of exotic flowers burst from among the palm-trees, more intoxicating -to their senses than the familiar scents and colours of the copse at -Robinvast. Within the high walls of this strange oasis, the air hung -motionless, heavy and feverish. The flowers breathed forth an almost -carnal odour.</p> - -<p>"What a place to make love in," thought M. Hervart.</p> - -<p>He forgot all about Rose; his imagination called up the thought of -Gratienne and her voluptuousness. He shut out the sun, lit up the place -with dim far away lamps, spread scarlet cushions on the grass where a -magnolia had let fall one of its fabulous flowers, and on them fancied -his mistress.... He knelt beside her, bent over her beauty, covering it -with kisses and adoration.</p> - -<p>"This garden's making me mad," said M. Hervart aloud. The dream was -scattered.</p> - -<p>"Here's the tower," said Rose. "Let's go up. It will be cool on top."</p> - -<p>She too was breathing heavily, but from uneasiness, not from passion. -It was cool within the tower. In a few moments Rose, now freed from -her sense of sense of oppression, was at the top. She had quite well -realised that M. Hervart, absorbed in some dream of his own, had been -far away from her all the last part of their walk. Rose was annoyed, -and the appearance of M. Hervart, rather red in the face and with eyes -that were still wild, was not calculated to calm her. She felt jealous -and would have liked to destroy the object of his thought.</p> - -<p>M. Hervart noticed the little movement of irritation, which Rose had -been unable to repress, and he was pleased. He would have liked to be -alone.</p> - -<p>He went and and leaned on the balustrade and, without speaking, looked -far out over the blue sea. Seeing him once more absorbed by something -which was not herself, Rose was torn by another pang of jealousy; -but this time she knew her rival. Women have no doubts about one -another, which is what always ensures them the victory, but Rose now -pitted herself against the charm of the infinite sea. She took up her -position, very close to M. Hervart, shoulder to shoulder with him.</p> - -<p>M. Hervart looked at Rose and stopped looking at the sea.</p> - -<p>His eyes were melancholy at having seen the ironic flight of desire. -Rose's were full of smiles.</p> - -<p>"They are the colour of the infinite sea, Rose."</p> - -<p>"It's quite pleasant," thought M. Hervart, "to be the first man to say -that to a young girl.... In the ordinary way, women with blue eyes hear -that compliment for the hundredth time, and it makes them think that -all men are alike and all stupid.... It's men who have made love so -insipid.... Rose's eyes are pretty, but I ought not to have said so.... -Am I the first?..."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart felt the prick, ill defined as yet, of jealousy.</p> - -<p>"Who can have taught her these little physical complaisances? She -has no girl friends; it must have been some enterprising young -cousin.... What a fool I am, torturing myself! Rose has had girl -friends, at Valognes at the convent. She has them still, she writes -to them.... And besides, what do I care? I'm not in love; it's all -nothing more than a series of light sensations, a pretext for amusing -observations...."</p> - -<p>The afternoon was drawing on. They had to think of the commissions -which Mme. Des Boys had given them.... It was time to go down.</p> - -<p>"How dark the staircase is," said Rose. "Give me your hand."</p> - -<p>At the bottom, as though to thank him for his help, she offered her -cheek. His kiss settled on the corner of her mouth. Rose recoiled, -warned of danger by this new sensation that was too intimate, too -intense. But in the process of moving away, she came near to falling. -Her hands clutched at his, and she found herself once more leaning -towards M. Hervart. They looked at one another for a moment. Rose shut -her eyes and waited for a renewal of the burning touch.</p> - -<p>"I hope you haven't hurt yourself."</p> - -<p>She burst out laughing.</p> - -<p>"That," said M. Hervart to himself, "is what is called being -self-controlled. And then she laughs at me for it. Such are the fruits -of virtue."</p> - -<p>They went into almost all the shops in the Rue Fontaine, which is the -centre of this big outlandish village. M. Hervart bought some picture -postcards. The castles in the Hague district are almost as fine and as -picturesque as those on the banks of the Loire. He would have liked to -send the picture of them to Gratienne, but he felt himself to be Rose's -prisoner. For a moment, that put him in a bad temper. Then, as Rose was -entering a draper's shop, he made up his mind; the post office was next -door.</p> - -<p>"I should like your advice," said Rose. "I have got to match some -wools."</p> - -<p>But he had gone. She waited patiently.</p> - -<p>The castles were at last dropped into the box and they continued their -course. The walk finished up at the confectioner's.</p> - -<p>One of Mr. Hervart's pleasures was eating cakes at a pastry cook's, and -the pleasure was complete when a woman was with him. He was a regular -customer at the shop in the Rue du Louvre, at the corner of the -square; he went there every day and not always alone.</p> - -<p>Entering the shop with Rose, he imagined himself in Paris, enjoying a -little flirtation, and the thought amused him. Rose was as happy as he. -Smiling and serious, she looked as though she were accomplishing some -familiar rite.</p> - -<p>"She would soon make a Parisian," M. Hervart thought, as he looked at -her.</p> - -<p>And in an instant of time, he saw a whole future unfolding before him. -They would live in the Quai Voltaire; she would often start out with -him in the mornings on her way to the Louvre stores. He would take her -as far as the arcades. She would come and pick him up for luncheon. On -other days, she would come into his office at four o'clock and they -would go and eat cakes and drink a glass of iced water; and then they -would walk slowly back by the Pont Neuf and the Quays; on the way they -would buy some queer old book and look at the play of the sunlight on -the water and in the trees. Sometimes they would take the steamer or -the train and go to some wood, not so wild as the Robinvast wood, but -pleasant enough, where Rose could breathe an air almost as pure as the -air of her native place....</p> - -<p>There was not much imagination in this dream of M. Hervart's, for he -had often realised it in the past. But the introduction of Rose made of -it something quite new, a pleasure hitherto unfelt.</p> - -<p>"By the end of my stay I shall be madly in love with her and very -unhappy," he said to himself at last.</p> - -<p>A little while later they met M. Des Boys, who was looking for them. -While they were waiting at the station for the train, M. Hervart -examined his duplicate postcards of the castles.</p> - -<p>"Why shouldn't we go and look at them?" said Rose, glancing at her -father.</p> - -<p>He acquiesced:</p> - -<p>"It will give me some ideas for the restoration of Robinvast, which I -think of carrying out."</p> - -<p>All that he meant to do was simply to set the place in order. He -would have the mortar repointed without touching the ivy, and while -preserving the wildness of the park and wood, he would have paths and -alleys made.</p> - -<p>"Art," he said sententiously, "admits only of a certain kind of -disorder. Besides, I have to think of public opinion; the disorder of -my garden will make people think that I am letting my daughter grow up -in the same way...."</p> - -<p>There was, in these words, a hint of marriage plans. Rose perceived it -at once.</p> - -<p>"I'm quite all right as I am," she said, "and so is Robinvast."</p> - -<p>"Vain little creature!"</p> - -<p>"Don't you agree with me?" said Rose, turning to M. Hervart with a -laugh that palliated the boldness of her question.</p> - -<p>"About yourself, most certainly."</p> - -<p>"Oh, there's nothing more to be done with me. The harm's done already; -I'm a savage. I'm thinking of the wildness of Robinvast; I like it and -it suits my wildness."</p> - -<p>"All the same," said M. Hervart, whose hands were covered with -scratches, "there are a lot of brambles in the wood. I've never seen -such fine ones, shoots like tropical creepers, like huge snakes...."</p> - -<p>"I never scratch myself," said Rose.</p> - -<p>But it was not without a feeling of satisfaction that she looked at M. -Hervart's hands, which were scarred with picking blackberries for her. -She whispered to him:</p> - -<p>"I'm as cruel as the brambles."</p> - -<p>"Defend yourself as well as they do," M. Hervart replied.</p> - -<p>It had been only a chance word. No doubt, M. Des Boys thought of -marrying his daughter, but the project was still distant. No suitor -threatened. M. Hervart was pleased with this state of affairs; for, -having fallen in love at ten in the morning, he was thinking now, at -seven, of marrying this nervous and sentimental child who had offered -the corner of her mouth to his clumsy kiss.</p> - -<p>The evenings at Robinvast were regularly spent in playing cards. -Trained from her earliest youth to participate in this occupation, -Rose played whist with conviction. She managed the whole game, scolded -her mother, argued about points with her father and kept M. Hervart -fascinated under the gaze of her gentle eyes.</p> - -<p>As soon as he sat down at the card table, he was conscious of this -fascination, which, up till then, had worked on him without his -knowledge. He remembered now that each time a chance had brought him -face to face with Rose, he had felt himself intoxicated by a great -pleasure. It was a kind of possession; spectators feel the same at the -theatre, when they see the actress of their dreams. He reflected too -that his own pleasure, almost unconscious though it had been, must have -expressed itself by fervent looks....</p> - -<p>"Her heart responded little by little to the mysterious passion of my -eyes.... I have nice eyes too, I know; they are my best feature.... My -pleasure is easily explained; full face, Rose is quite divine, though -her profile is rather hard. Her nose, which is a little long, looks all -right from the front; her face is a perfect oval; her smile seems to be -the natural movement of her rather wide mouth, and her eyes come out in -the lamplight from their deep setting, like flowers.... I have often -stood in the same ecstasy before my lovely Titian Venus; it's true -that she displays other beauties as well, but her face and her eyes are -above all exquisite...."</p> - -<p>"Don't make signs at one another!"</p> - -<p>This observation, which had followed a too obvious exchange of smiles, -amused Rose enormously; for she had been thinking very little of the -game at the moment. She bowed her head innocently under the paternal -rebuke.</p> - -<p>They played extremely badly and lost a great number of points.</p> - -<p>At the change of partners they were separated; but separation united -them the better, for their knees soon came together under the table. -The game, under these conditions, became delicious. Rose did her -best to beat her lover and at the same time, delighting in the sense -of contrast, caressed him under the table. Life seemed to her very -delightful.</p> - -<p>She was a little feverish and it was late before she went to sleep, to -dream of this wonderful day when she had so joyously reached the summit -of her desires. She was loved; that was happiness. She did not for a -moment think of wondering whether she were herself in love. She had no -doubts on the state of her heart.</p> - -<p>M. Hervart's reflections were somewhat different. They also were -extremely confused. Women live entirely in the present; men much more -in the future—a sign, it may be, that there nature is not so well -organised. M. Hervart was making plans. He went to sleep in the midst -of his scheming, exhausted by his to make so much as one plan that -should be tenable.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER IV</h4> - - -<p>When he came down fairly early next morning, he found M. Des Boys, who -was usually invisible till lunch time, walking in the garden with his -daughter. He was gesticulating, largely. M. Hervart was alarmed.</p> - -<p>But they were not talking of him. M. Des Boys was planning a long -winding alley and was showing Rose how it would run. After consulting -M. Hervart, who was all eagerness in agreeing, he decided that they -should start their tour of the castles that very day.</p> - -<p>At the same time he sent for workmen to come the next day and wrote to -Lanfranc, the architect of Martinvast, a friend of whom he had lost -sight for a good many years. Lanfranc lived at St. Lô, where he acted -as clerk of the works to the local authorities. M. Hervart was also -acquainted with him.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, M. Des Boys forgot his painting and stayed in the garden -nearly the whole morning. Rose was annoyed. She had counted on -repeating their yesterday's walk among the hollies and brambles, among -the foxgloves and through the bracken. She dreamed of how she would -take this walk every day of her life, believing that she would find it -eternally the same, as moving and as novel.</p> - -<p>M. Hervart, though he was grateful for this diversion, could not help -feeling certain regrets. He missed Rose's hand within his own.</p> - -<p>For a moment, as they were walking along the terrace, they found -themselves alone, at the very spot where the crisis had begun.</p> - -<p>Quickly, they took one another's hands and Rose offered her cheek. M. -Hervart made no attempt, on this occasion, to obtain a better kiss. It -was not the occasion. Perhaps he did not even think of it. Rose was -disappointed. M. Hervart noticed it and lifted the girl's hands to his -lips. He loved this caress, having a special cult for hands. He gave -utterance to his secret thought, saying:</p> - -<p>"How is it that I never yet kissed your hands?"</p> - -<p>Pleased, without being moved, Rose confined herself to smiling. Then, -suddenly, as an idea flashed through her mind, the smile broke into a -laugh, which, for all its violence, seemed somehow tinged with shyness. -Grown calmer, she asked.</p> - -<p>"I'd like to know ... to know.... I'd like to know your name."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart was nonplussed.</p> - -<p>"My name? But ... Ah, I see ... the other one."</p> - -<p>He hesitated. This name, the sound of which he had hardly heard since -his mother's death, was so unfamiliar to him that he felt a certain -embarrassment at uttering it. He signed himself simply "Hervart." All -his friends railed him by this name, for none had known him in the -intimacy of the family; even his mistresses had never murmured any -other. Besides, women prefer to make use of appellations suitable -to every one in general, such as "wolf," or "pussy-cat," or "white -rabbit"—M. Hervart, who was thin, had been generally called "wolf."</p> - -<p>"Xavier," he said at last. Rose seemed satisfied.</p> - -<p>She began eating blackberries as she had done the day before. M. -Hervart—just as he had done yesterday, opened his magnifying -glass; he counted the black spots on the back of a lady-bird, -<i>coccinella septempunctata</i>; there were only six.</p> - -<p>In the palm of her little hand, well smeared already with purple, Rose -placed a fine blackberry and held it out to M. Hervart. As he did not -lift his head, but still sat there, one eye shut, the other absorbed in -what he was looking at, she said gently, in a voice without affection, -a voice that was deliciously natural:</p> - -<p>"Xavier!"</p> - -<p>M. Hervart felt an intense emotion. He looked at Rose with surprised -and troubled eyes. She was still holding out her hand. He ate the -blackberry in a kiss and then repeated several times in succession, -"Rose, Rose...."</p> - -<p>"How pale you are!" she said equally moved.</p> - -<p>She stepped back, leant against the wall. M. Hervart took a step -forward. They were standing now, looking into one another's eyes. Very -serious, Rose waited. M. Hervart said:</p> - -<p>"Rose, I love you."</p> - -<p>She hid her face in her hands. M. Hervart dared not speak or move. He -looked at the hands that hid Rose's face.</p> - -<p>When she uncovered her face, it was grave and her eyes were wet. She -said nothing, but went off and picked a blackberry as though nothing -had happened. But instead of eating it, she threw it aside and, instead -of coming back to M. Hervart, she walked away.</p> - -<p>M. Hervart felt chilled. He stood looking at her sadly, as she smoothed -the folds of her dress and set her hat straight.</p> - -<p>When she reached the corner by the lilac bushes, Rose stopped, turned -round and blew a kiss, then, taking flight, she disappeared in the -direction of the house.</p> - -<p>The scene had lasted two or three minutes; but in that little space, M. -Hervart had lived a great deal. It had been the most moving instant of -his life; at least he could not remember having known one like it. At -the sound of that name, Xavier, almost blotted from his memory, a host -of charming moments from the past had entered his heart; he thought -of his mother's love, of his first declaration, his first caresses. -He found himself once more at the outset of life and as incapable of -mournful thoughts as at twenty.</p> - -<p>His whole manner suddenly changed. He hoisted himself on to the terrace -and, sitting on the edge in the dry grass, lit a cigarette and looked -at the world without thinking of anything at all.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER V</h4> - - -<p>Their rapid intimacy did not leave off growing during the following -days. M. Des Boys never left the workmen who were making the new paths -and from moment to moment he would call his daughter or M. Hervart, -soliciting their approval.</p> - -<p>In the afternoons they would go and look at one of the castles in the -neighbourhood.</p> - -<p>They saw Martinvast, towers, chapel, Gothic arches, ingeniously adapted -so as to cover, without spoiling their lines, the flimsy luxury of -modern times. Tourlaville, though less old, looked more decayed under -its cloak of ivy. M. Hervart admired the great octagonal tower, the -bold lines of the inward-curving roofs. They saw Pepinbast, a thing of -lace-work and turrets, florid with trefoils and pinnacles. They saw -Chiflevast, a Janus, Gothic on one side and Louis XIV on the other.</p> - -<p>Nacqueville is old in parts; the main block seems to be contemporary -with Richelieu; as a whole, it is imposing, a building to which each -generation has added its own life without hiding the distant origins.</p> - -<p>Vast, which looks quite modern, occupies a pleasing site by the falls -of the Saire. It seemed more human than the others, whose hugeness and -splendour they had admired without a wish to possess. Here one could -give play to one's desire.</p> - -<p>"All the same," said M. Hervart, "it looks too much like a big cottage."</p> - -<p>M. Des Boys resolved to have a cascade at Robinvast. It was a pity that -he had nothing better than a stream at his disposal.</p> - -<p>They returned by La Pernelle, from which one can see all the eastern -part of the Hague, from Gatteville to St. Marcouf, a great sheet of -emerald green, bordered, far away by a ribbon of blue sea.</p> - -<p>They made a halt. Rose picked some heather, with which she filled M. -Hervart's arms. The eagerness of the air lit up her eyes, fired her -cheeks.</p> - -<p>"Isn't it lovely, my country?"</p> - -<p>A cloud hid the sun. Colour paled away from the scene; a shadow walked -across the sea, quenching its brilliance; but southward, towards the -isles of St. Marcouf, it was still bright.</p> - -<p>"A sad thought crossing the brow of the sea," said M. Hervart. "But -look...."</p> - -<p>Everything had suddenly lit up once again.</p> - -<p>Rose blew kisses into space.</p> - -<p>They had to go back towards St. Vast, where they had hired the -carriage. Thence, traveling by the little railway which follows the sea -for a space before it turns inland under the apple trees, they arrived -at Valognes.</p> - -<p>They dined at the St. Michel hotel. M. Des Boys was bored; he had begun -to find the excursion rather too long. But there were still a lot of -fine buildings to be looked at, Fontenay, Flamanville.... However, -those didn't mean such long journeys.</p> - -<p>"We have still got to go," said he, "to Barnavast, Richemont, the -Hermitage and Pannelier. That can be done in one afternoon."</p> - -<p>They did not get back to Robinvast till very late. The darkness in the -carriage gave M. Hervart his opportunity; his leg came into contact -with Rose's; under pretext of steadying the bundle of heather which -Rose was balancing on her knee, their hands met for an instant.</p> - -<p>Mme. Des Boys was waiting for them, rather anxiously. She kissed her -daughter almost frenziedly. Enervated, Rose burst out laughing, said -she wanted something to drink and, having drunk expressed a wish for -food.</p> - -<p>"That's it," said M. Hervart. "Let's have supper."</p> - -<p>He checked himself:</p> - -<p>"I was only joking; I'm not in the least hungry."</p> - -<p>But Rose found the idea amusing; she went in search of food, bringing -into the drawing-room every kind of object, down to a bottle of -sparkling cider she had discovered in a cupboard.</p> - -<p>"Hervart's a boy of twenty-five," said M. Des Boys as he watched his -friend helping Rose in her preparations. "I shall go to bed."</p> - -<p>"At twenty-five," said Hervart, "one doesn't know what to do with -one's life. One has all the trumps in one's hand, but one plays one's -cards haphazard, and one loses."</p> - -<p>"Does he talk of playing now?" said M. Des Boys, who was half asleep. -Rose burst out laughing.</p> - -<p>"Are you really going to bed?" asked Mme. Des Boys; she looked tired. -"I suppose I must stay here."</p> - -<p>But she was soon bored. It was half past twelve. She tried to get her -daughter to come.</p> - -<p>"Ten minutes more, mother."</p> - -<p>"All right, I'll leave you. I shall expect you in ten minutes."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart got up.</p> - -<p>"I give you ten minutes. Be indulgent with the child. All this fresh -air has gone to her head."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart felt embarrassed. A week ago such a <i>tête-a-tête</i> would have -seemed the most innocent and perhaps, too, the most tedious of things.</p> - -<p>"I really don't know what may happen. I must be serious, cold; I must -try and look tired and antique...."</p> - -<p>As soon as she heard her mother's footsteps in the room above the -drawing-room, Rose came and sat down close to M. Hervart, put her hands -on the arm of his chair. He looked at her, and there was something of -madness in his eyes. He turned completely and laid his hands upon the -girl's hands. They moved, took his and pressed them, gently. Then, -without having had the time to think of what they were doing, they -woke up a second later mouth against mouth. This kiss exhausted their -emotion. With the same instinctive movement both drew back, but they -went on looking at one another.</p> - -<p>Decidedly, she was very pretty. She, for part, found him admirable, -thinking:</p> - -<p>"I belong to him. I have given him my lips. I am his. What will he do? -What shall I do?..."</p> - -<p>That was just what M. Hervart was wondering—what ought he to do?</p> - -<p>"What caresses are possible, what won't she object to? I should like -to kiss her lips again.... Her eyes? Her neck? Which of the Italian -poets was it who said: 'Kiss the arms, the neck, the breasts of your -beloved, they will not give you back your kisses. The lips alone,' But -I shall have to say something. Of course, I ought to say: 'Je vous -aime.' But I don't love her. If I did, I should have said: 'Je t'aime!' -and I should have said it without thinking, without knowing.</p> - -<p>"Rose, I love you."</p> - -<p>She shut her eyes, laid her head on the arm of the chair; for she was -sitting on a low stool.</p> - -<p>It was the ear that presented itself. M. Hervart kissed her ear slowly, -savouring it, kiss by kiss, like an epicure over some choice shell-fish.</p> - -<p>"She lets me do what I like. It's amusing...."</p> - -<p>He kissed his way round her ear and halted next to the eye, which was -shut.</p> - -<p>"How soft her eyelid is!"</p> - -<p>His lips travelled down her nose and settled at the corner of her -mouth. Tickled by their touch, she smiled.</p> - -<p>When he had thoroughly kissed the right side, she offered him the left; -then, giving her lips to him frankly, she received his kiss, returned -it with all her heart, and got up.</p> - -<p>She smiled without any embarrassment. She was happy and very little -disturbed.</p> - -<p>"There," she said to herself. "Now I'm married."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER VI</h4> - - -<p>The paths were now visible. One of them, in front of the house, made -an oval round a lawn, which looked, at the moment, like a patch of -weeds, with all sorts of flowers in the uneven grass—buttercups, -moon-daisies, cranes-bill and centaury; there were rushes, too, and -nettles, hemlock and plants of lingwort that looked like long thin -girls in white hats.</p> - -<p>Encoignard, the gardener from Valognes, was contemplating this wildness -with a melancholy eye:</p> - -<p>"It will have to be ploughed, M. Des Boys, or at least well hoed. Then -we'll sift the earth we've broken up, level it down and sow ray-grass. -In two years it will be like a carpet of green velvet."</p> - -<p>Eyeing the landscape, he went on:</p> - -<p>"Lime trees! You ought to have a segoya here and over there an -araucaria. And what's that? An apple-tree. That's quite wrong. We'll -have that up and put a magnolia grandiflora there. You want an English -garden, don't you? An English garden oughtn't to contain anything but -exotic plants. Lilacs and roses.... Why not snow-ball trees? Ah, -there's a nice spotted holly. We might use that perhaps."</p> - -<p>"I don't want anyone to touch my trees," said Rose, who had drawn near.</p> - -<p>"She's right," said M. Des Boys.</p> - -<p>"Think of pulling up lilacs," Rose went on, "pulling up rose-trees."</p> - -<p>"But I mean to put prettier flowers in their place, Mademoiselle."</p> - -<p>"The prettiest flowers are the ones I like best."</p> - -<p>She picked a red rose and put it to her lips, kissing it as though it -were something sacred and adored.</p> - -<p>M. Des Boys looked at his daughter with astonishment.</p> - -<p>"Well, M. Encoignard, we must do what she wants. Hervart, what do you -think about it?"</p> - -<p>"I think that one ought to leave nature as unkempt as possible. I -also think that one ought to love the plants of the country where -one lives. They are the only ones that harmonise with the sky and the -crops, with the colour of the rivers and roads and roofs."</p> - -<p>"Quite right," said M. Des Boys.</p> - -<p>"Xavier, I love you," Rose whispered, taking M. Hervart's arm.</p> - -<p>The inspection of the garden was continued, and it was decided that M. -Encoignard's collaboration should be reduced to the ordinary functions -of a plain docile gardener. One or two new plants were admitted on -condition that the old should be respected.</p> - -<p>M. Hervart had got up early and had been strolling about the garden -for some time past. He had spent half the night in thought. All the -women he had loved or known had visited his memory with their customary -gestures and the attitudes they affected. There was that other one who -seemed always to have come merely to pay a friendly call; it needed -real diplomacy to obtain from her what, at the bottom of her heart, she -really desired. Between these two extremes there were many gradations. -Most of them liked to give themselves little by little, playing their -desire against their sense of shame M. Hervart flattered himself that -he knew all about women; he knew that who let herself be touched will -let herself be wholly possessed.</p> - -<p>"A woman," he said to himself, "who has been as familiar as Rose has -been, or even much less familiar, ought to be one who has surrendered -herself. Perhaps she might make me wait a few days more, but she would -belong to me, she would let her eyes confess it and her lips would -speak it out. Such a woman would even be disposed to hasten the coming -of the delightful moment, if I had not the wit to prepare it myself. -Rose, being a young girl and having only the dimmest presentiments of -the truth, does not know how to hasten our happiness; otherwise she -most certainly would hasten it. She belongs, then, to me. The question -to be answered is this: shall I go on smelling the rose on the tree, or -shall I pluck it?"</p> - -<p>The poetical quality of this metaphor seemed to him perhaps a little -flabby. He began to speak to himself, without actually articulating -the words, even in a whisper, in more precise terms.</p> - -<p>"Well, then, if I take her, I shall keep her. I have never thought of -marrying, but it's no good going against the current of one's life. It -may be happiness. Shall I lay up this regret for my old age: happiness -passed dose to me, smiling to my desire, and my eyes remained dull and -my mouth dumb? Happiness? Is it certain? Happiness is always uncertain. -Unhappiness too. And the fusing of these two elements makes a dull -insipid mixture."</p> - -<p>This commonplace idea occupied him for a while. Every joy is transient, -and when it has passed one finds oneself numb and neutral once again.</p> - -<p>"Neutral, or below neutral? A woman of this temperament? I can still -tame her? Yes, but what will happen ten years hence, when she is -thirty? Ah, well, till then...!"</p> - -<p>M. Des Boys carried off Encoignard into his study. Left alone, Rose and -M. Hervart had soon vanished behind the trees and shrubberies, had soon -crossed the stream. They almost ran.</p> - -<p>"Here we are at home," said Rose and, very calmly, she offered her lips -to M. Hervart.</p> - -<p>"She's positively conjugal already," thought M. Hervart.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, this kiss disturbed his equanimity—the more so since -Rose, in gratitude no doubt to M. Hervart for his defence of her old -garden, kept her mouth a long time pressed to his. She was growing -breathless and her breasts rose under her thin white blouse. M. Hervart -was tempted to touch them. He made bold, and his gesture was received -without indignation. They looked at one another anxious to speak but -finding no words. Their mouths came together once more. M. Hervart -pressed Rose's breast, and a small hand squeezed his other hand. It -was a perilous moment. Realising this, M. Hervart tried to put an end -to the contact. But the little hand squeezed his own more tightly and -in a convulsive movement her knee came into contact with his leg. The -tension was broken. Their hands were loosened, they drew away from one -another, and for the first time after a kiss, Rose shut her eyes.</p> - -<p>M. Hervart felt a pain in the back of his neck.</p> - -<p>He began thinking of that season of Platonic love he had once passed -at Versailles with a virtuous woman, and he was frightened; for that -passion of light kisses and hand-pressures had undermined him as more -violent excesses had never done.</p> - -<p>"What will become of me?" he thought. "This is a case of acute -Platonism, marked by the most decisive symptoms. All or nothing! -Otherwise I am a dead man."</p> - -<p>He looked at Rose, meaning to put on a chilly expression; but those -eyes of her looked back at him so sweetly!</p> - -<p>His thoughts became confused. He felt a desire to lie down in the grass -and sleep, and he said so.</p> - -<p>"All right, lie down and sleep. I'll watch over you and keep the flies -away from your eyes and mouth. I'll fan you with this fern."</p> - -<p>She spoke in a voice that was caressingly passionate. It was like -music. M. Hervart woke up and uttered words of love.</p> - -<p>"I love you, Rose. The touch of your lips has refreshed my blood and -brought joy to my heart. When I first touched you, it was as though I -were clasping a treasure without price. But tell me, my darling, you -won't take back this treasure now you have given it?"</p> - -<p>M. Hervart was breathing heavily. Rose shook her head and said, "No, I -won't take it back;" and to prove that she meant it she leaned towards -him, as though offering her bosom; M. Hervart lightly touched the stuff -of her blouse with his lips.</p> - -<p>Seeing her lover's lack of alacrity, Rose, without suspecting the -mystery, at least guessed that there was a mystery.</p> - -<p>"No doubt," she thought, "love needs a rest every now and then. We will -go for a little walk and I'll talk to him of flowers and insects. We -should do well, perhaps, to go back to the garden, for it would be very -annoying if they took it into their heads to come and look for us." They -got up and walked round the wood meaning to go straight back to the -house.</p> - -<p>M. Hervart seemed to be in an absent-minded mood. He was holding Rose's -hand in his, but he forgot to squeeze it. His thoughts were, none the -less, thoughts of love. He looked about him as though he were searching -for something.</p> - -<p>"What are you looking for? Tell me; I'll look too."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart was looking for a nook. He inspected the dry leaves, peeped -into every nook and bower of the wood. But he felt ashamed of his quest.</p> - -<p>"Yet," he thought, "I must. I love her and these innocent amusements -are really too pernicious. Shall I go away? That would be to condemn -myself to a melancholy solitude, with, perhaps, bitter consolations. -Marry her, then? Certainly, but it can't come off to-morrow, and we are -too much aquiver with desire to wait patiently. And suppose, when we -are engaged, we have to submit ourselves to the law of the traditional -sentimentality.... No, let us be peasants, children of this kindly -earth. Let us, like them, make love first, at haphazard, where the -paths of the wood lead us; then, when we are certain of the consent of -our flesh, we will call our fellow men to witness."</p> - -<p>He went on looking and found what he wanted, but when he had found, he -started searching again, for he was ashamed of himself.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps," he thought, answering his own objections, "one may have to -behave like a cad in order to be happy. What, shall I submit myself -to the prejudices of the world at the moment when life offers to my -kisses a virgin who is unaware of them? I will have the courage of my -caddishness."</p> - -<p>Time passed and his eyes examined the heaps of leaves with decreasing -interest. His imagination returned pleasantly to the joys of a little -before, and he longed to be able to lay his trembling hand once more on -Rose's breast and to drink her breath in a kiss.</p> - -<p>M. Hervart was recovering all his self-possession. He concluded:</p> - -<p>"Well, it's very curious adventure and one that will increase the sum -of my knowledge and of my pleasures."</p> - -<p>Rose, feeling the pressure of his fingers, had the courage, at last, to -look at him. He smiled and she was reassured.</p> - -<p>"You won't leave me, will you?" she said. "Promise. When we are -married well live wherever you like, but till then, I want you near me, -in my house, in my garden, my woods, my fields. Do you understand?"</p> - -<p>"Child, I love you and I understand that you love me too."</p> - -<p>"Why 'too'? I loved you first; I don't like that word; it expresses a -kind of imitation."</p> - -<p>"It's true," said M. Hervart. "We fell in love simultaneously. But the -convention is that the man falls in love first and the woman does no -more than consent to his desires."</p> - -<p>"What can you want that I don't want myself?"</p> - -<p>"Delicious innocence!" thought M. Hervart.</p> - -<p>He went on:</p> - -<p>"But perhaps I want still more intimacy, complete surrender, Rose."</p> - -<p>"But am I not entirely yours? I want you in exchange, though, Xavier, I -want you, all of you."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart did not know what to say. He became quite shy. This charming -ingenuousness troubled his imagination more than the images of pleasure -itself.</p> - -<p>"She doesn't know," he thought. "She hasn't even dreamed of it. What -chastity and grace!"</p> - -<p>He answered:</p> - -<p>"I belong to you, Rose, with all my heart...."</p> - -<p>"What were you thinking of a moment ago? You seemed far away."</p> - -<p>"I was just feeling happy."</p> - -<p>"You must have had such a lot of happinesses since you began life, -Xavier. You have given happiness, received it...."</p> - -<p>"I have just lived," said M. Hervart.</p> - -<p>"Yes, and I'm only a girl of twenty."</p> - -<p>"Think of being twenty!"</p> - -<p>"If you were twenty, I shouldn't love you."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart answered only by a smile which he tried to make as young, as -delicate as possible. He knew what he would have liked to say, but he -felt that he could not say it. Besides, he wondered whether Rose and he -were really speaking the same language.</p> - -<p>"This conversation is really absurd. I tell her that I want her to -surrender herself to me, and she answers—at least I suppose that's -what she means—that she has given me her heart. Obviously, she has no -idea of what might happen between us.... What do these little caresses -mean to her? They're just marks of affection.... All the same there -was surely desire in her movements, her kisses, her eyes. And her body -trembled at the urgent touch of my lips. Yes, she knows what love is. -How ridiculous! All the same, if we go to work cleverly...."</p> - -<p>"You mustn't believe, Rose," he said out loud, "that I have ever yet -had occasion to give my heart. That doesn't always happen in the course -of a life; and when it does happen, it happens only once.... A man has -plenty of adventures in which his will is not concerned.... Man is an -animal as well as a man...."</p> - -<p>"And what about women?"</p> - -<p>"The best people agree," said M. Hervart, "that woman is an angel."</p> - -<p>Rose burst out laughing at this remark, apparently very innocently, and -said:</p> - -<p>"I can't claim to be an angel. It wouldn't amuse me to be one, either. -Angels—why, father puts them in his pictures. No, I prefer being a -woman. Would you love an angel?"</p> - -<p>M. Hervart laughed too. He explained that young girls had a right to -being called angels, because of their innocence....</p> - -<p>"When one is in love, is one still innocent?"</p> - -<p>"If one still is, one doesn't remain so long."</p> - -<p>They could say no more. They had come back to the stream and there -they caught sight of M. Des Boys showing his domains to two gentlemen, -one of whom seemed to be of his own age, while the other looked about -thirty.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER VII</h4> - - -<p>M. Hervart soon recognised in one of the visitors a friend of old days, -Lanfranc, the architect. The young man, as he found out, was Lanfranc's -nephew, pupil and probable successor. He was further informed that the -two architects were installed in the old manor house of Barnavast, the -restoration of which they had undertaken on behalf of Mme. Suif, widow -of that famous Suif who gave such a fine impulse to the art of mortuary -and religious sculpture. Lanfranc, who had patched and painted every -church in Normandy, had for twenty years bought his materials at Suif's -and the widow had always appreciated him. Hence this job at Barnavast -which would round off his fortune, make it possible for him to return -to Paris and achieve a place in the Institute.</p> - -<p>As soon as they had settled down in the shade of the chestnut trees -on the rustic seat, Lanfranc began telling the story of Mme. Suif, -a story that was well known to every one. Rose listened attentively. -The moment Lanfranc could collect a friendly audience he always told -the story of Mme. Suif. It was in some degree his own story too. Mme. -Suif had been his mistress, then he had married, then he had resumed -relations with her and had, with the cooling of their passion, remained -her friend.</p> - -<p>"Ah! If I hadn't been so childish as to marry for love, I would marry -Mme. Suif's millions to-day, for Mme. Suif would be grateful to any man -who would relieve her of her name. Being an architect of churches and -ancient monuments, I could hardly get divorced, could I? But of course -she may be willing to call herself Mme. Leonor Varin. For she looks at -my nephew with no unfavourable eye!"</p> - -<p>"Thanks, I don't want her," said Leonor, blushing.</p> - -<p>Rose had looked at him and he had suddenly felt quite ashamed of his -secret cupidity.</p> - -<p>Leonor, who was nearly thirty, looked older from a distance and -younger from close at hand. He was large, rather massive and slow -in his movements. But when one came near him one was surprised at -the sentimental expression of his eyes, surprised at the youthful -appearance of a beard that still seemed to be newly sprouting, at the -awkwardness of his gestures and, when he spoke, the abrupt shyness of -his speech; for he could hardly open his mouth without blushing. It is -true that the moment after he would frown and contract his whole face -into an expression of harshness. But the eyes remained blue and gentle -in this frowning mask. Leonor was a riddle for everybody, including -himself. He liked pondering, and when he thought of love it was to come -to the conclusion that his ideal hovered between the daydream and the -debauch, between the happiness of kissing, on bended knees, a gloved -hand and the pleasure of lying languidly in the midst of a troop of -odalisques of easy virtue. He had no suspicion that he was like almost -all other men. He was afraid of himself and contemptuous too, when he -caught himself thinking too complacently of Mme. Suif's millions, -those millions that would give immediate satisfaction to his vices and, -later on, to his sentimental aspirations.</p> - -<p>He looked at Rose in his turn, but Rose did not drop her eyes. -Meanwhile, M. Hervart was growing bored.</p> - -<p>"Mme. Suif," said Lanfranc, "is still quite well preserved. For -instance...."</p> - -<p>"Rose dear," interrupted M. Des Boys, "doesn't your mother want you?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, no, I'm sure she doesn't. Mother would only find me in the way."</p> - -<p>"Your father is right, Rose," said M. Hervart glad to make trial of his -authority.</p> - -<p>She did not dare oppose her lover's wish, but she felt angry as she -rose to go.</p> - -<p>"Acting like my master already!" she thought. "I should so like to -listen to M. Lanfranc...."</p> - -<p>She dared not add: "... and to look at this M. Leonor and be looked -at by him and still more, to hear them talk of Mme. Suif. What was he -going to say? Oh, I don't want to know!"</p> - -<p>She entered the house, came out again by another door and hid herself -in a shrubbery from which she could hear their voices quite clearly.</p> - -<p>"It's not only her shoulders," M. Lanfranc was saying, "they're not the -only things about her that tempt one. She's forty-five, but her figure -is still good and not too excessively run to flesh. As a whole she is -certainly a bit ample, but at the Art School one could still make a -very respectable Juno of her. I've seen worse on the model's throne...."</p> - -<p>"Time," said M. Hervart, "often shows angelical clemency. He pardons -women who have been good lovers."</p> - -<p>"And still are," said Lanfranc.</p> - -<p>"There's no better recreation than love," said Leonor. "No sport more -suited to keep one fit and supple."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart looked in surprise at this dim young man who had so -unexpectedly made a joke. Anxious to shine in his turn, he replied: "No -one has ever dared to put that in a manual of hygiene. What a charming -chapter one could make of it, in the style of the First Empire: 'Love, -the preserver of Beauty.'"</p> - -<p>"A pretty subject too for the Prix de Rome," said Lanfranc.</p> - -<p>"Seriously," broke in M. Des Boys, "I believe that the thing that so -quickly shrivels up virtuous women in chastity."</p> - -<p>"Virtuous women!" said Lanfranc, "they're mean to reproduce the -species. When they have had their children, and that must take place -between twenty and thirty, their rôle is finished."</p> - -<p>"The only thing left for them to do," said M. Des Boys, "is to concoct -philters to keep us young."</p> - -<p>The others looked at him interrogatively; he laughed.</p> - -<p>"You will see, or rather you'll taste, and you will understand. I wish -you all as good a magician as Mme. Des Boys."</p> - -<p>"True," said M. Hervart, understanding him at last, "she has a real -genius for cookery. Dinners of her planning are regular love-potions."</p> - -<p>"You'll realise that when you get back to Paris."</p> - -<p>"Yes, when I get back to Paris. I am taking a holiday here," said M. -Hervart, pleased at this mark of confidence. He even added, so as to -guard against possible suspicions:</p> - -<p>"A holiday from love is not without a certain melancholy."</p> - -<p>Rose had found it all very amusing, but when her father began speaking -she stopped listening. Leonor, pleased at having made a witty remark, -and afraid of not being able to think of another, had got up and was -walking about the garden. Rose looked at him. The sight of this young -animal interested her. And what curious words about love had issued -from that mouth! So love was an exercise like tennis, or bicycling, or -riding! What a revelation! And the most singular fancies took shape in -her mind as she followed with her eyes the now distant figure of this -ingenious and decisive young man.</p> - -<p>"How do people play the game of love," she wondered, "real love? -Xavier teaches me nothing. He knows all about it though, more probably -than this young Leonor, but he takes care not to tell me. He treats -me like a little girl, while he makes fun of my innocence. Oh! it's -gentle fun, because he loves me; but all the same he rather abuses his -superior position. A sport, a sport...."</p> - -<p>Quitting the shrubbery, she went and sat down on an old stone bench in -a lonely corner, from which she could keep a watch between the trees on -all that was happening in the neighbourhood. She was fond of this nook -and in it, before M. Hervart's arrival, she had spent whole mornings -dreaming alone. She laughed at the childishness of those dreams now.</p> - -<p>"It always seemed to me," she thought, "that the branches were just -about to open, making way for some beautiful young cavalier.... Without -saying a word, he would bring his horse to stop at my side, would lean -down, pick me up, lay me across the saddle and off we would go. Then -there was to be a mad, furious, endless gallop, and in the end I should -go to sleep. And in reality I used to wake up as though from a sleep, -even though I hadn't dropped off. Nothing happened but this dumb ride -in the blue air, and yet, when I came to myself, I felt tired.... How -often I have dreamed this dream! How often have I seen the lilac -plumes bending to make way for my lovely young knight and his black -horse! The horse was always black. I remember very little of the face -of the Perseus who delivered me, for a few hours at least, from the -bondage of my boring existence.... A sport? That was indeed a sport! -What did he do with his Andromeda, this Perseus of mine? I've never -been able to find out. What do Perseuses do with their Andromedas?"</p> - -<p>To this question Rose's tireless imagination provided, for the -hundredth time, a new series of answers. The imagination of a young -girl who knows and yet is ignorant of what she desires has an -Aretine-like fecundity.</p> - -<p>Into all these imaginations of hers Rose now introduced the complicity -of M. Hervart. Even at the moment when she was on the lookout for -Leonor's return, it was really of M. Hervart that she was thinking. -Leonor was to be nothing more than a stimulant for her heart and her -nerves, a musical accompaniment to something else. The stimulation -which the young man's arrival had brought to her went to the profit of -M. Hervart.</p> - -<p>"Xavier," she murmured, "Xavier...."</p> - -<p>Xavier, meanwhile, was congratulating himself that his paternal -intervention had spared Rose's ears the hearing of those over-frank -remarks of M. Lanfranc. The architect would of course have toned down -his language; but is it good that a young girl should learn the use -that wives make of marriage? He said:</p> - -<p>"M. Lanfranc, keep an eye on your language at table. Don't forget that -we have a young girl with us."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said M. Des Boys "I sent her away from here, but that would -hardly be possible during luncheon."</p> - -<p>"Girls," said Lanfranc, "understand nothing."</p> - -<p>"They guess," said M. Hervart.</p> - -<p>M. Des Boys had no opinions on maiden perspicacity, but he desired to -conform to custom and allow his daughter to listen only to the choicest -conversation.</p> - -<p>"Well, then," said Lanfranc, "let us profitably employ these moments -while we are alone." His lively blue eyes lit up his tanned face.</p> - -<p>The conversation had deviated once more in the direction of Mme. Des -Boys' administrative merits.</p> - -<p>"One meets so many different kinds of women," said M. Hervart. "The -best of them is never equal to the dream one makes up about them."</p> - -<p>"Silly commonplace," he thought. "What answer will he make to that?"</p> - -<p>"I don't dream," said Lanfranc, "I search. But I scarcely ever find. -Adventures have always disappointed me. That's why Paris is the only -place for love affairs. One can find plenty of pleasant romances there -with only one chapter—the last."</p> - -<p>"Your opinion of women ceases to astonish me then!"</p> - -<p>"His opinion is very reasonable," said M. Des Boys. "You talk as though -you were still twenty-five, Hervart."</p> - -<p>He reddened a little.</p> - -<p>"Me! Oh no, thank God! I'm forty."</p> - -<p>And seeing the appropriateness of the occasion, he added:</p> - -<p>"You're jealous of my liberty, but I am becoming afraid that I may lose -it."</p> - -<p>"Are you thinking of marriage?" asked Lanfranc.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps."</p> - -<p>"Mme. Suif would suit you very well. Leonor is being coy about her...."</p> - -<p>Irritated by so much vulgarity, M. Hervart got up and walked into the -garden. Rose and Leonor were strolling there together.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER VIII</h4> - - -<p>Rose had laid her plans in such a fashion that the young man had -found her in his path. Not to see her was too deliberately to avoid -her. If he saw her, he had to take off his hat. And this was what -had happened. Rose had answered his salutation by a word of welcome; -conversation had then passed to the old house at Barnavast, finally to -Mme. Suif. But Leonor was discreet and vague, so much so that at one of -Rose's questions the conversation had switched off on to sentimental -commonplaces. But, for Rose, nothing in the world was commonplace yet.</p> - -<p>"Isn't she rather old to marry again?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Ah, but Mme. Suif is one of those whose hearts are always young."</p> - -<p>"Then there are some hearts that grow old more slowly than others?"</p> - -<p>"Some never grow old at all, just as some have never been young."</p> - -<p>"All the same, I see a great difference, when I look around me, between -the feelings of young and old people."</p> - -<p>"Do you know many people?"</p> - -<p>"No, very few; but I have always seen a correspondence between people's -hearts and faces."</p> - -<p>"Certainly; but a general truth, although it may represent the average -of particular truths, is hardly ever the same as a single particular -case selected by chance...."</p> - -<p>Rose looked at Leonor with a mixture of admiration and shame: she did -not understand. Leonor perceived the fact and went on:</p> - -<p>"I mean that there are, in all things, exceptions. I also mean that -there are rules which admit of a great number of exceptions. It even -happens in life, just as in grammar, that the exceptional are more -numerous than the regular cases. Do you follow?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, perfectly."</p> - -<p>"But that," he concluded, emphasising his words, "does not prevent the -rule's being the rule, even though there were only two normal cases as -against ten exceptions."</p> - -<p>Rose liked this magisterial tone. M. Hervart had, for some time, done -nothing but agree with her opinions.</p> - -<p>"But how does one recognise the rule?" she went on.</p> - -<p>"Rules," said Leonor, "always satisfy the reason."</p> - -<p>Rose looked at him in alarm; then, pretending she had understood, made -a sign of affirmation.</p> - -<p>"Women never understand that very well," Leonor continued. "It doesn't -satisfy them. They yield only to their feelings. So do men, for that -matter, but they don't admit it. So that women accused of hypocrisy -and vanity have less of these vices, it may be, than men.... At any -rate the rule is the rule. The rule demands that Marguerite should give -up...."</p> - -<p>"Who's Marguerite?"</p> - -<p>"Mme. Suif."</p> - -<p>"Do you know her well?"</p> - -<p>Leonor smiled. "Am I not the nephew and lieutenant of her architect? -The rule, then, would demand that Marguerite should give up love; and -the rule further demands, Mademoiselle, that you should begin to think -of it."</p> - -<p>"The rule is the rule," said Rose sententiously, suppressing the shouts -of laughter that exploded silently in her heart.</p> - -<p>"The rule's not so stupid after all," she thought. "I don't ask -anything better than to obey it...."</p> - -<p>At this moment M. Hervart came face to face with them at the turn of -a path. Rose welcomed him with a happy smile, a smile of delicious -frankness.</p> - -<p>"Good," thought M. Hervart, "he isn't my rival yet. My rôle for the -moment is to act the part of the man who is sure of himself, the -man who possesses, dominates, the lord who is above all changes and -chances...."</p> - -<p>And he began to talk of his stay at Robinvast and of the pleasure he -found in the midst of this rich disorderly scene of nature.</p> - -<p>"But you," he said, "have come to put it in order. You have come -to whiten these walls, scrape off this moss and ivy, cut clearings -through these dark masses, and you will make M. Des Boys a present of a -brand-new castle with a charming and equally brand-new park."</p> - -<p>"Who's going to touch my ivy?" exclaimed Rose, indignantly.</p> - -<p>"Why should it be touched," said Leonor. "Isn't ivy the glory of the -walls of Tourlaville? Ivy—why, it's the only architectural beauty -that can't be bought. At Barnavast, which is in a state of ruin, we -always respect it when the wall can be consolidated from inside. To my -mind, restoration means giving back to a monument the appearance that -the centuries would have given it if it had been well looked after. -Restoration doesn't mean making a thing look new; it doesn't consist in -giving an old man the hair, beard, complexion and teeth of a youth; it -consists in bringing a dying man back to life and giving him the health -and beauty of his age."</p> - -<p>"How glad I am to hear you talk like this," said Rose. "I hope M. -Lanfranc shares your ideas."</p> - -<p>"M. Lanfranc is completely converted to my ideas."</p> - -<p>"My father will do nothing without consulting me, but I shall feel -more certain of getting my way if you are my ally."</p> - -<p>"I will be your ally then."</p> - -<p>"Yours is a sensible method," said M. Hervart. "You may know that I -am the keeper of the Greek sculpture at the Louvre. I entered that -necropolis at a time when the old system of restoration had begun to -be abandoned. They were oscillating between two methods—re-making or -doing nothing. The second has prevailed. You will have noticed that our -marbles can be divided into two groups: those which have no antiquity -but in the name, and those which have no antiquity except in the -material. In old days, when they had found a bust, they manufactured -a new head for it, new arms and new legs; then they wrote underneath: -'Artemis (restored), Minerva (restored), Nymph with a bow (restored),' -according to the fancy of the cast-maker or as they were guided by a -somnolent archæology. I think that they certainly filled some gaps in -this way. If the system had gone on being followed, we should doubtless -be in possession at the present time of a complete Olympus; while as -it is there are plenty of empty places left in the assembly of our -gods. Since we decided to do nothing, our galleries have grown rich -in curious anatomical odds and ends—legs and hands that look like -those ex-voto offerings that used, as a matter of fact, to hang in -Greek sanctuaries; heads that look as though they had, like Orpheus's -head, been rolled by storms among the pebbles of the sea; busts so -full of holes that they seem to have served as targets for drunken -soldiers. In short nothing comes to us now but fragments—fragments -of great archæological interest, but whose value as works of art is -almost nothing. Wouldn't some intermediate method be preferable? By -intermediate I mean intelligent. Intelligence is the art of reconciling -ideas and producing a harmony. A head of Aphrodite with a broken nose -ceases to be a head of Aphrodite. I ask for beauty and they give me a -museum specimen. If they want me to admire it, they must make a new -nose; if they don't want to make a new nose, then they must divide up -the Louvre into two museums, the æsthetic museum and the archæological -museum."</p> - -<p>Having finished speaking, he looked first of all at Rose, thus showing -that he had need, before everything else, of her approbation. Rose's -face lit up with happiness. Her eyes answered, "My dear, I admire you. -You're a god."</p> - -<p>These movements were understood by Leonor, who had been trying for some -few moments to guess what were the relations between Rose and Hervart.</p> - -<p>"They are in love," he said to himself. "Hervart has a genius for -making love. I am twenty-eight, which is my only point of superiority -over him. And even that is very illusory, for it is only women who -know something about life, whether through experience or through the -confidences of some one else, who pay any attention to a man's age. A -woman is as old as her face: a man is as old as his eyes. Hervart has a -pair of fine blue eyes, gentle and lively, ardent. But what do I care? -I don't desire the good graces of this innocent."</p> - -<p>While reflecting thus, he had answered M. Hervart, "I quite agree with -you. People tend too much to-day to confound the curious, rare or -antique with the beautiful. The æsthetic sense has been replaced by a -feeling of respect."</p> - -<p>"The process was perhaps inevitable," said M. Hervart. "In any case it -suits a democracy. People have no time to learn to admire, but one can -very quickly learn to respect. The intelligence is docile, but taste is -recalcitrant."</p> - -<p>"But aren't there such things," Rose asked, "as spontaneous -admirations?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Leonor, "there's love."</p> - -<p>"Then is admiration the same as love?"</p> - -<p>"If they don't yet love, people come very near loving when they admire."</p> - -<p>"And is love admiration?"</p> - -<p>"Not always."</p> - -<p>"Love," said M. Hervart, "is compatible with almost all other feelings, -even with hatred."</p> - -<p>"Yes," replied Leonor, "that has the appearance of being true, for -there are many kinds of love. The love that struggles with hatred can -only be a love inspired by interest or sensuality."</p> - -<p>"One never knows. I hold that love, just as it is capable of taking -any shape or form, can devour all other feelings and install itself -in their place. It comes and it goes, without one's ever being able -to understand the mechanism of its movements. It lasts two hours or a -whole life....</p> - -<p>"You are mixing up the different species," said Leonor. "You must, if -we are to understand one another, allow words to keep their traditional -sense with all its shades of meaning. Love is at the base of all -emotions either as a negative or positive principle; one can say that, -and when one has said it one is no forwarder. Do you think there's no -point in the way verbal usage employs the words 'passion, caprice, -inclination, taste, curiosity' and other words of the kind? It would -surely be better to create new shades, rather than set one's wits to -work to dissolve all the colours and shades of sensation and emotion -into a single hue."</p> - -<p>Like a village musician plunged into the midst of a discussion on -counterpoint and orchestration, Rose listened, a little disquieted, a -little irritated, but at the same time fascinated. They were speaking -of something that filled her heart and set her nerves tingling; she did -not understand, she felt. She would have liked to understand.</p> - -<p>"Xavier will explain it all to me. How silly I look in the middle of -the conversations where I can't put in a word."</p> - -<p>She pretended to desire a rose out of reach of her hand. M. Hervart -darted forward, reached the flower and set to work to strip the branch -of its thorns and its superfluous wood and leaves.</p> - -<p>"That was not the one I wanted," said Rose.</p> - -<p>M. Hervart began again and the girl looked on, happy at having been -able to interrupt a serious conversation by a mere whim.</p> - -<p>Leonor examined them with a certain irony. Rose noticed his look, felt -herself blushing and slipped away.</p> - -<p>M. Hervart and Leonor continued their stroll and their chat; but they -talked no more about love.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER IX</h4> - - -<p>Luncheon passed agreeably for Rose. She was the centre of looks, -desires and conversation. M. Lanfranc gallanted without bad taste. -She would laugh and then, with sudden seriousness, accept the contact -of some gesture of M. Hervart's, who was sitting next to her. Leonor -confined himself to a few curt phrases, which were meant to sum up the -more ingenuous remarks of his fellow guests. He had thought he could -treat this girl with contempt, but her eyes, he found, excited him. By -dint of trying to seem a superior being, he succeeded in looking like a -thoroughly disagreeable one. Rose was frightened of him.</p> - -<p>"How cold he is," she thought. "One could never talk or play with a man -so sure of all his movements. He would always win."</p> - -<p>Several times, with innocent unconsciousness, she looked at M. Hervart.</p> - -<p>"How well I have chosen! Here is a man who is younger than he, nearer -my own age, and yet each of his words and gestures brings me closer to -Xavier. I feel that it will be always like that. Who can compete with -him? Xavier, I love you."</p> - -<p>She leaned forward to reach a jug and as she did so whispered full in -M. Hervart's face, "Xavier, I love you."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart pretended to choke. His redness of face was put down to a -cherry stone; Lanfranc gave vent to some feeble joking on the subject.</p> - -<p>As luncheon was nearing its end, she said with a perverse frankness:</p> - -<p>"M. Hervart, will you come with me and see if everything's all right -down in the garden?"</p> - -<p>"I am having coffee served out of doors," Mme. Des Boys explained.</p> - -<p>Lanfranc expatiated on the beauties of this country custom.</p> - -<p>As soon as they were hidden from view behind the shrubbery, Rose, -without a word, took M. Hervart by the shoulders and offered him her -lips. It was a long kiss. Xavier clasped the girl in his arms and with -a passion in which there was much amorous art, drank in her soul.</p> - -<p>When he lifted his head, he felt confused:</p> - -<p>"I have been giving the kiss of a happy lover, when what was asked for -was a betrothal kiss. What will she think of me?"</p> - -<p>Rose was already looking at the rustic table. When M. Hervart rejoined -her, she greeted him with the sweetest of smiles.</p> - -<p>"Was that what she wanted then?" M. Hervart wondered.</p> - -<p>"Rose," he said aloud, "I love you, I love you."</p> - -<p>"I hope you do," she replied.</p> - -<p>"Oh, how I should like to be alone with you now!"</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't. I should be afraid."</p> - -<p>This answer set M. Hervart thinking: "Does she know as much about it as -all that? Is it an invitation?"</p> - -<p>His thought lost itself in a tangle of vain desires. But for the very -reason that the moment was not propitious, he let himself go among the -most audacious fancies. His eyes wandered towards the dark wood, as -though in search of some favourable retreat. He made movements which he -never finished. Raising himself from his chair, he let himself fall -back, fidgeted with an empty cup, searched vainly for a match to light -his absent cigarette. The arrival of Leonor calmed him. His fate that -day was to embark on futile discussions with this young man, and he -accepted his destiny.</p> - -<p>Every one was once more assembled. The conversation was resumed on the -tone it had kept up at luncheon; but Rose was dreaming, and M. Hervart -had a headache. It was all so spiritless, despite the enticements of M. -Lanfranc, that M. Des Boys lost no time in proposing a walk.</p> - -<p>"If you want us," said Leonor, "to draw up a plan for the -transformation of your property, you must show it to us in some detail. -Is this wood to be a part of your projected park? And what's beyond it? -Another estate, or meadows, or ploughed fields? What are the rights of -way? Do you want a single avenue towards Couville? One could equally -well have one joining the St. Martin road....</p> - -<p>"Do you intend to lay waste this wood?" asked Rose. "It's so beautiful -and wild."</p> - -<p>"My dear young lady," said Leonor, "I intend to do nothing; that is to -say, I only intend to please you...."</p> - -<p>"Do what my daughter wants," said M. Des Boys. "You're here for her -sake."</p> - -<p>"For her sake," Mme. Des Boys repeated.</p> - -<p>"Oh, well," said Leonor, "we shall get on very well then."</p> - -<p>"So I hope," said Rose.</p> - -<p>"I am at your orders," said Leonor.</p> - -<p>"Come on then," said Rose.</p> - -<p>With these words she got up, throwing M. Hervart a look which was -understood. But as M. Hervart rose to his feet, Mme. Des Boys -approached him:</p> - -<p>"I have something very interesting to tell you."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart had to let Rose and Leonor plunge alone into the wood in -which he had, during these last few days, experienced such delightful -emotions. Mme. Des Boys took him into the garden.</p> - -<p>"I have a question to ask you," she said. "First of all, is -architecture a serious profession?"</p> - -<p>"Very," said M. Hervart.</p> - -<p>"But do people make really a lot of money at it?"</p> - -<p>"Lanfranc, who was a beggar when I first knew him, is probably richer -than you are to-day. Leonor will go even further, I should think, for -he seems an intelligent fellow and knows a lot about his business."</p> - -<p>"You're not speaking out of mere friendship for him?"</p> - -<p>"Not at all. Far from it; to tell you the truth I'm not very fond of -either of them."</p> - -<p>"But they're thorough gentlemen and very good company."</p> - -<p>"Certainly, Lanfranc especially."</p> - -<p>"Isn't he amusing? His nephew is more severe, but I prefer it."</p> - -<p>"So do I."</p> - -<p>"I'm glad to see that you agree with me."</p> - -<p>She continued after a moment's reflection. "He would be an excellent -husband for Rose."</p> - -<p>Hervart did not reply. He had grown pale and his heart had begun -beating violently. His thoughts were in confusion; his head whirled.</p> - -<p>"What do you think of the idea?" Mme. Des Boys insisted.</p> - -<p>He withheld his answer, for he knew that his voice would seem quite -changed. He murmured; "Hum," or something of the sort, something that -simply meant that he had heard the question.</p> - -<p>But bit by bit he recovered. The happy idea came to him that time. Des -Boys was a nullity in the family and had little influence over her -daughter.</p> - -<p>"Nothing that she says has any importance. I'll agree with her."</p> - -<p>"I entirely agree with you," he pronounced,</p> - -<p>"My daughter's a curious creature," went on Mme. Des Boys, "but your -approbation will perhaps be enough to convince her. You have a great -deal of influence over her."</p> - -<p>"I?"</p> - -<p>"She's very fond of you. It's obvious."</p> - -<p>"I'm such an old friend," said M. Hervart courageously.</p> - -<p>His cowardice made him blush.</p> - -<p>"Why shouldn't I confess? Why not say, 'Yes, she does like me, and I -like her, why not?' Isn't my desire evident? Can I go away, leave her, -do without her?..." But to all these intimate questions M. Hervart did -not dare to give a definite answer.</p> - -<p>"What I should like is that the present moment should go on for -ever...."</p> - -<p>"They have hardly spoken to one another, and yet," Mme. Des Boys -continued, "I seem to see between them the beginnings of ... what?... -how shall I put it?..."</p> - -<p>"The beginnings of an understanding," prompted M. Hervart with ironic -charity. "Why not love? There's such a thing as love at first sight."</p> - -<p>"Oh, Rose is much too well bred."</p> - -<p>The silliness of this woman, so reasonable and natural, none the less, -in her rôle of mother, exasperated M. Hervart even more than the -insinuations to which he had been obliged to listen. Ceasing, not to -hesitate, but to reflect, he said abruptly:</p> - -<p>"I shall be very sorry to see her married."</p> - -<p>Mme. Des Boys pressed his hand:</p> - -<p>"Dear friend! yes, it will make a big difference in our home."</p> - -<p>She went on, after a moment's hesitation:</p> - -<p>"Not a word about all this, dear Hervart; you understand. And now I -think that the <i>tête-a-tête</i> has perhaps gone on long enough; it would -be very nice of you if you'd go and join them."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart, impatient though he was, made his way slowly through the -meanders of the little copse. Like Panurge, he kept repeating to -himself, "Marry her? or not marry her?"</p> - -<p>His head was a clock in which a pendulum swung indefatigably. He sat -down on the little bench where, for the first time, he had fell the -girl's head coming gently to rest on his shoulder. He wanted to think.</p> - -<p>"I must come to a decision," he said to himself.</p> - -<p>Leonor had noticed that, from the moment their walk had begun, Rose was -on the alert at the slightest noise.</p> - -<p>"She expects him. That means he'll come. So much the better. I -care very little about this schoolgirl. We're alone now; no more -compliments. I'm simply a landscape gardener at the orders of Mlle. -Rose Des Boys. What a name!..."</p> - -<p>He looked at the girl.</p> - -<p>"After all, the name isn't so ridiculous as one might think. She is -so fresh, she looks so pure. How curious they are, these innocent -beings who go through life with the grace of a flower blossoming by the -wayside.... But let's get on with our job....</p> - -<p>"The taste of the day, mademoiselle, inclines towards the French -style of garden. Some compromise, at least, is necessary between the -sham naturalness of the English park and the rigidity of geometrical -designs....</p> - -<p>"Tell me what your compromise is."</p> - -<p>"But I don't know the ground yet."</p> - -<p>"It isn't big, you know. In a quarter of an hour you will have an idea -of the place as a whole."</p> - -<p>Leonor continued his dissertation on the art of the garden for a -little, but he was perfectly aware that he was not being listened to. -Finally he said:</p> - -<p>"Nature must obey man; but a reasonable man only asks of her that she -should allow herself to be admired or to be loved. Those who wish to -admire are inclined to impose certain sacrifices upon her. Those who -love ask less and are content, provided they find an easy access to the -sites that please them. But I should imagine that women demand more. -They want nature to be tamer, they want to see her utterly conquered; -they want landscapes in which you can see the mark of their power...."</p> - -<p>"What a curious conversation," Rose said to herself. "Here's an -architect who would get on my nerves if I had to pass my life in his -company...."</p> - -<p>This idea made her think more urgently of M. Hervart. She turned her -head, questioning the narrow alleys where the sunlight filtered through -in little drops.</p> - -<p>"She's thinking of her dear Xavier," thought Leonor. "What subject can -I think of to hold her attention? Obviously, my remarks have so far -interested her very little."</p> - -<p>A man, however cold he may voluntarily make himself, however -self-controlled he may be by nature, is scarcely capable of going -for a walk alone with a young woman without wishing to please. He is -equally incapable of keeping his presence of mind sufficiently to be -able to look at himself acting and not to make mistakes. But how can -one please? Can it be done by rule, particularly with a young girl? -Women are hardly capable of anything but total impressions. They do not -distinguish, for instance, between cleverness and intelligence, between -facility and real power, between real and apparent youthfulness. If -one pleases them, one pleases in one's entirety, and as soon as one -does please them, one becomes their sacred animal. Leonor had an -inspiration. Instead of expounding his own ideas on gardens, he set to -work to repeat, in different terms, what Rose had said that morning:</p> - -<p>"What I have been expounding," he said, "doesn't seem to interest you -much. But you see, I must do my job, which is to back up M. Lanfranc. -Personally, I agree with you. If there are weak spots in your house, -the nearest mason can put on the necessary plaster, stone and mortar. -As for the garden and the wood, I should do nothing except make a few -paths so that I might walk without fear of dew or brambles."</p> - -<p>"Now you're being sensible. Very well then, I shall tell my father that I -shall make arrangements with you alone. You will come back here and we -will do nothing, almost nothing."</p> - -<p>"I shall come back with pleasure and I shall do nothing; but if I have -not made you dislike me I shall consider that I have done a great deal."</p> - -<p>"But I don't dislike you. When people agree with me, I never dislike -them."</p> - -<p>"But how can people fail to agree with you when you say such sensible -things?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, that's very easy. M. Hervart doesn't dispose with disagreement. He -contradicts me, laughs at me."</p> - -<p>"Good," thought Leonor, "she's in love with Hervart; then she likes -being contradicted and even laughed at a little. Or perhaps she's -lying, so as to make me believe that Hervart is indifferent to her. -Let's try and get a rise."</p> - -<p>"At this age that sort of thing is permissible."</p> - -<p>"That's why I don't get cross."</p> - -<p>"And besides, he's very nice."</p> - -<p>"Oh, so nice; I'm very fond of him."</p> - -<p>"It doesn't take," thought Leonor. "Hervart, to her, is a god and we -might go on talking till to-morrow without her understanding a single -one of my insinuations or ironies."</p> - -<p>He went on, nevertheless, picking out all the spiteful things that can -be said with politeness.</p> - -<p>"Old bachelors often have manias...."</p> - -<p>"That's what I often tell him. For instance, his taste for insects.... -But it amuses him so."</p> - -<p>"She's invulnerable," said Leonor to himself.</p> - -<p>"And then he knows life. He has lived so much."</p> - -<p>"That's true. Sometimes, when he's speaking to me, I fed as though a -whole world were opening before me."</p> - -<p>"He knows all there is to be known, the arts and the sciences, -friendship and love, men, women.... He's seen a lot of them and of -every variety."</p> - -<p>This time it was Rose who paused a moment to reflect, then:</p> - -<p>"That's why I have such immense confidence in him. It's a real -happiness for me that he should come and spend his holidays here. I -have learnt more in these few weeks than in all the other years of my -life."</p> - -<p>Leonor looked at Rose. He felt a powerful emotion, for to be loved like -this seemed to him the height of felicity. He had never believed that -it was possible to inspire a young girl with such ingenuous confidence. -And how frank she was! What a divine simplicity!</p> - -<p>"How does one make oneself so much loved? What's his secret? Ah! if only -I dared ask more! But now, I don't even want to try and violate an -intimacy so charming to contemplate. I'm looking at happiness, and it's -such a rare sight."</p> - -<p>He glanced at Rose once more.</p> - -<p>"And with all that she's very pretty. How graceful she is under this -aspect of wildness! What suppleness of form! Everything down to her -complexion, gilded and freckled like an apple by the sun, looks lovely -in these country surroundings. How well a wife like this would suit -me; for I belong to this country and am destined to live here. Why -couldn't Hervart have stayed among his Parisian women?"</p> - -<p>"He must be very fond of you," he went on, "and I envy his happiness -in being allowed to be your friend. I shall come back, since you so -desire, but I would rather not come back."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Because I don't want to displease you."</p> - -<p>"But it won't displease me; far from it. Do explain."</p> - -<p>"If I come back, perhaps, I shan't have the strength of mind not to -grow fond of you, and that will make you angry."</p> - -<p>"But why? How odd you are! Make yourself a friend of the house. I shall -be very pleased."</p> - -<p>"But then I shan't be able to like you as you like M. Hervart."</p> - -<p>"Oh! I don't think that would be possible."</p> - -<p>"And you won't like me as you like him."</p> - -<p>She broke into such ingenuous laughter that Leonor assured himself -that she had not understood anything of his insinuations. However, he -was wrong, and her laughter proved it. She had laughed just because -the idea had suddenly come to her that another man might have played -Xavier's part in what had happened. The idea seemed to her comic and -she had laughed. But the idea had come, and that was a great point.</p> - -<p>It was such a great point that in her turn she looked at Leonor, -and this time she did not laugh; but she had no time to make any -comparison, for at the same moment she pricked up her ears and said, -"There he is."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart did not arrive till quite an appreciable time had passed, -and Leonor said to himself:</p> - -<p>"She scents her lover as a pointer scents the game. Love is -extraordinary."</p> - -<p>He abandoned himself to reflection, astonished at having learnt so many -things in half an hour's walk with a young and simple-hearted girl.</p> - -<p>Rose was staring with all her eyes in the direction from which the -sound of rustling leaves had come. Leonor stooped down behind her and -kissed the hem of her skirt.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER X</h4> - - -<p>While he was alone, M. Hervart had done his best to make a decision, -as he had promised himself to do; but decisions had fluttered like -capricious butterflies round his head and would not let themselves be -caught. He was neither surprised nor vexed at the fact.</p> - -<p>"Rose," he said to himself at last, "will do all I want."</p> - -<p>This certitude was enough for him. The moment he had a will, Rose would -acquiesce.</p> - -<p>"Provided my will agrees with hers, that's obvious. Now Rose's wish is -to become Mme. Hervart. Dear little thing, she's in love with me...."</p> - -<p>He dwelt complacently on this idea, but a moment later it alarmed him -and he felt himself a prisoner. A hundred times over he repeated:</p> - -<p>"I must have done with it. I will speak to Des Boys this evening, -to-morrow morning at latest.... He will laugh at me. But that's all. -He will have to give in afterwards. My will, Rose's will.... I shall -carry her off and take her to Paris. Is it my first adventure? If it's -the last it will at least be a splendid one."</p> - -<p>He pictured to himself all the details of this romantic enterprise. He -would, of course, reserve a compartment in the train so as to insure -a propitious solitude. It would not be at night, but in the evening. -After an amusing little supper and some thrilling kisses, Rose would -go to sleep on his shoulder and from time to time he would touch her -breast, kiss her eyelids. She would be, at this moment, at once his -wife and his mistress, the woman who has given herself, but whom one -has not yet taken, a beautiful fruit to be looked at and delicately -handled before it is at last relished. What an exquisite creature of -love she would be. How docile her curiosity! What a pupil, like clay -the hands of the sculptor. An elopement? Why not a marriage tour? No, -no elopements! no romantic nonsense! Des Boys will give me his daughter -when I want....</p> - -<p>But suddenly he had a curious vision. He was standing on the platform -of Caen station, amusing himself by peeping indiscreetly into the -carriages, and what did he see?—Rose and Leonor huddled together, -mouth against mouth. The train moved on, and he was left standing -there, looking at the red light disappearing in the smoke....</p> - -<p>He got up, full of jealousy; he ran, then slowed down, listening for -possible words, questioning the silence. Without his knowing exactly -why, Rose's laugh, heard through the leaves of the wood, reassured him. -He saw Leonor stoop down and rise again holding a little pink flower in -his hand.</p> - -<p>"<i>Sherardia arvensis</i>," he said, taking the flower. "It has no business -to grow here. Its place is in the field next door. <i>Arvensis</i>, you see, -<i>arvensis</i>. But there are lots of plants that lose their way."</p> - -<p>"He knows everything," said Rose. "You see, he knows everything."</p> - -<p>Leonor, who had understood the allusion, did not answer. He walked -away, under the pretense of continuing his botanical researches in the -wood.</p> - -<p>"If love were born at this moment in my heart, it would be most -untimely, it would have chosen its place very unfortunately. Does he -love as he is loved? That is what I should like to know. Is he capable -of perseverance? Who knows? It may be, Rose, that you will one day lie -weeping in my arms."</p> - -<p>All three of them made their way back, Leonor walking a little ahead. -M. Hervart kept silence, for what he had to say demanded secrecy, and -commonplace words were impossible. Rose did not notice the silence; she -herself did not think of talking. She was happy, walking dose to her -lover. Sometimes, furtively she stretched out her hand and squeezed -one of his fingers. M. Hervart allowed his left arm to hang limply on -purpose. Leonor did not turn round once, and Rose was grateful to him -for that. M. Hervart, who felt that his secret had been guessed, would -have preferred a less deliberate, a less suspicious discretion.</p> - -<p>"What have these architects come to do here?" he wondered. "It looks -as though it had all been arranged by the Des Boys with a view to -getting off their daughter. Will they come back? Leonor certainly will. -And shall I be able to stay?"</p> - -<p>His perplexities began again. When Rose's hand touched his own, he -felt himself her prisoner, her happy slave. As soon as the contact was -removed, he was seized by ideas of flight and liberty. He would like -to have called Leonor, flung Rose into his arms and made off across -country.</p> - -<p>"I have never been so much disturbed by any amour. It's the question -of marriage. What complications! I hate this fellow Leonor. But for -him.... But for him? But is he the only man in the world? If I don't -take her, it will be somebody else." Suddenly he drew closer to Rose -and whispered frenziedly in her ear a stream of tender and violent -words, "Rose, I love you, I desire you with all my being, I want you."</p> - -<p>Rose started, but these words responded so exactly to her own thoughts -that she was only surprised by their suddenness. First she blushed, -then a smile of happy sweetness lit up her face and her eyes shone with -life and desire.</p> - -<p>They soon rejoined Lanfranc and M. Des Boys, who were confabulating -over a glass of wine. A few minutes later the architects got into their -carriage.</p> - -<p>At the moment when the groom let go of the horse's head, Leonor turned -round. Rose realised that the gesture was meant for her; she slightly -shrugged her shoulders.</p> - -<p>"I'm going to do a little painting," said M. Des Boys.</p> - -<p>"I caught sight of an interesting beetle at the top of the garden," -said M. Hervart.</p> - -<p>"I'm going up to my room," said Rose.</p> - -<p>Five minutes later the two lovers had met again near the bench on which -M. Hervart had meditated in vain.</p> - -<p>Without saying a word, Rose let herself fall into her lover's arms. Her -drooping head revealed her neck, and M. Hervart kissed it with more -passion than usual. His mouth pushed aside the collar of her dress, -seeking her shoulder.</p> - -<p>"Let us sit down," she said at last, when she had had her fill of her -lover's mild caresses. And taking his head between her hands, she in -her turn covered him with kisses, but mostly on the eyes and on the -forehead. Desiring a more tender contact, he took the offensive, seized -the exquisite head and after a slight resistance made a conquest of her -lips. There was always, when they were sitting down, a little struggle -before he reached this point, although she had often, when they were -walking, offered him her lips frankly. On the bench it was more -serious, because it was slower and because the kiss irradiated more -easily throughout her body.</p> - -<p>"No, Xavier, no!"</p> - -<p>But she surrendered. For the first time, M. Hervart, having loosened -her bodice, touched the soft flesh of her breast, fluttering with fear -and passion. He kissed her violently, and when the kiss was slow in -coming she provoked it, amorously. A simultaneous start put an end to -their double pleasure; and there, sitting close to one another, were -a pair of lovers, at once happy and ill satisfied. One of them was -wondering if love had not completer pleasures to offer; and the other -was saying, what a pity that one is a decent man!</p> - -<p>At the moment M. Hervart considered himself very reserved. Later, when -he had recovered his presence of mind a little more, he felt certain -scruples, for he was delicate and subject to headaches as a result of -indecisive pleasures. He felt proud of the at least partial domination, -which he could, at scabrous moments, exercise over his nervous centres -with his well-constructed, well-conditioned brain.</p> - -<p>"Do you love your husband, little Rose?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes!"</p> - -<p>She roused herself to utter this exclamation with energy. M. Hervart -felt no further indecision. Furthermore, he began almost at once to -give a new direction to his thoughts. He wanted something to eat; Rose -acquiesced. As she was slow in getting up he wanted to pick her up in -his arms; but his arms, grown strangely weak, were unequal to the light -burden. M. Hervart felt, too, that his legs were not as solid as they -might have been. He would have liked to eat and at the same time to -lie down in the grass. He let himself fall back on the bench.</p> - -<p>"You look so tired," said Rose, inventing every kind of tenderness. -"Stay here, I'll bring you some cakes and wine."</p> - -<p>But he refused and they went back together.</p> - -<p>Cheered by a little sherry and some brioches, M. Hervart asked for -music. Rose, inexpert though she was, soothed her lover with all the -melodies he desired. She even sang to him. The songs were all romances.</p> - -<p>"Joys of the young couple," he said to himself, half dozing. "A picture -by Greuze. Nothing is lacking except the little spaniel dog and the -paternal old man looking in at the window and shedding a few quiet -tears 'inspired by memory' at the sight of this ravishing scene. There, -I'm laughing at myself, so that I can't be quite so badly done for as -might have been thought. Not so close a prisoner, either."</p> - -<p>"Go and see my father," said Rose, leaving a verse half sung. "I'll -come and find you there later."</p> - -<p>And she went on with her music.</p> - -<p>"More and more conjugal, for I shall obey her after having, of course, -gone over: I kissed her in the neck. Dear child, she's waiting for the -surprise, shivering at it already...."</p> - -<p>Everything went off as M. Hervart had predicted, but there was -something more. Rose turned round and said, after offering her lips:</p> - -<p>"Go along, my darling, and mind you admire his painting a lot, more -than yesterday."</p> - -<p>"Yes, my love."</p> - -<p>"How charming it all is!" he said to himself as he knocked at the -studio door. "Delightful family conspiracies. Shall I be able to play -this part for long? Suppose I announce my intentions to my venerable -friend. Obviously there can be no more hesitation. Come on!"</p> - -<p>They talked of Ste. Clotilde. M. Hervart was loud in his praise both -of the historical knowledge as well as the pictorial skill of the -master of Robinvast, and at every word he uttered he felt a longing to -make the conversation touch on the conjugal virtues of that honourable -queen. Then the desire passed.</p> - -<p>Dinner time came. Afterwards, as usual, they played a game of -whist. M. Hervart retired to bed with pleasure and, wearied by his -kisses and his thoughts, went to sleep full of the contentment that -comes from a pleasant fatigue.</p> - -<p>"I shall have to warn Rose," he said to himself as soon as he woke, -rather late, next morning, "of her mother's schemes. They might make -her fall into some trap."</p> - -<p>He soon found an opportunity. In the morning their kisses were more -reserved, still somnolent. They frittered away the time pleasantly. M. -Hervart would sometimes make a serious examination of some rare insect: -Rose worked at her embroidery with conviction. They did not venture -into the wood, because of the dew, but remained in the neighbourhood of -the house. At this hour of the day M. Hervart was always particularly -lucid. He discoursed on a hundred different topics and Rose listened, -without daring to interrupt, even when she did not understand. She -enjoyed the sound of his voice much more than the sense of his words.</p> - -<p>Rose was not surprised to learn of her mothers schemes. She -confessed, furthermore, that she had divined in M. Varin's attitude -the existence of quite definite intentions. It was therefore decided -that M. Hervart should make his request that very day in order to -forestall circumstances. Rose spoke so resolutely and her words were -so lyrical that M. Hervart felt all his absurd hesitations melt away -within him. She knew her parents' income and gave the figure, very -straightforwardly, like the practical woman she was. M. Des Boys had an -income of sixty thousand francs of which, she imagined, he hardly spent -half. There was no doubt that he would willingly give the greater part -of the other half to his only daughter. As she had also calculated, -though with less certainty, the value of M. Hervart's fortune, she -included decisively:</p> - -<p>"We shall have from thirty to forty thousand francs a year."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart calculated the figures again with the details that were -known to him personally and found the estimate correct. His admiration -for Rose was increased.</p> - -<p>"She has all the virtues: an aptitude for love and the sense of -domestic economy, intelligence and very little education, health -without a striking beauty. Finally, she adores me and I love her."</p> - -<p>At the first insinuations of his friend M. Des Boys smiled and said:</p> - -<p>"I thought as much. My daughter has received but the vaguest education. -Her mother is incapable. As for me, I am interested only in art. She -needs a serious husband, a husband, that is to say, who is not in his -first youth. If she wants you, take her. I'll go and ask her."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart was on the point of saying there was no need. But luckily he -checked himself and M. Des Boys questioned his daughter.</p> - -<p>"I should like to," she said.</p> - -<p>M. Des Boys returned.</p> - -<p>"She said, 'I should like to,' She said it without enthusiasm, but she -said it. Now go and arrange things yourselves. I shall go on with my -painting."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart admired Rose still more for her astute answer.</p> - -<p>The girl was waiting for him as he came towards her, serious, scarcely -smiling, but beautified by the profound emotion that she could scarcely -contain. She gave him her hand, then her forehead; and when M. Hervart -drew her into his arms, she burst into tears.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER XI</h4> - - -<p>Meanwhile Leonor had received a wound which he could not support with -patience. A hundred times a day he thought of Rose. He was not in love -with the woman, he was in love with her love. He saw her as she had -appeared to him in the wood at Robinvast, with her whole desire, her -whole will, her whole body, turned innocently toward M. Hervart and he -felt no jealousy; on the contrary, he admired the ingenuous force of so -confiding, so powerful a love. By having been able to inspire such a -love M. Hervart evoked in him an almost superstitious respect; he would -willingly have helped him in his amour.</p> - -<p>"I should like to know him," he said to himself naively; "I should ask -him for advice and lessons. I should beg him to reveal his secret to -me."</p> - -<p>He would spend hours dreaming on this theme: to be loved like that. In -these matters the most intelligent easily become childish. The ego is -a wall that limits the view, rising higher in proportion as the man is -greater. There is, however, a certain degree of greatness from which, -when a man reaches it, he can always look over the top of the wall of -his egoism; but that is very rare. Leonor was not a rare character; he -was simply a man a little above the ordinary, capable of originality -and of learning from experience, clever at his profession, apt at -forming general ideas, sometimes refined and sometimes gross, a peasant -rather than a man of the world, a solitary, cold of aspect, full of -contradictions, ironic or ingenuous by fits, tormented by sexual images -and sentimental ideas.</p> - -<p>He was not one of those in whom a budding love, even a love of the -head, abolishes the senses. The more he dreamed about Rose, the more -disquietingly tense grew his nerves. His desire did not turn towards -her; he caught himself one evening spying on the wife of the Barnavast -keeper, who was showing her legs as she bent over the well. It made -him feel rather ashamed, for this big Norman peasant woman, so young -and fresh, could boast, he imagined, of nothing more than a peasant's -cleanliness—wholly exterior, and he would only, could only tolerate -woman in the state of the nymph fresh risen from the bath, like the -companions of Diana.</p> - -<p>Besides, he noticed that Lanfranc was making up to this good creature -and doing it in all seriousness. Sure of giving him satisfaction by -taking himself off for a few days, he drove to Valognes and took the -Paris train.</p> - -<p>Leonor, without making pretensions to conquests, would have liked -to have certain kinds of adventures. He wanted to find one of those -women whom some careless husband, whether through avarice or poverty, -deprives of the joy of fashionable elegance or who, adorned by a -lover's prodigalities, dreams of giving for nothing the present which -they none the less very gladly sell. He had experienced these equivocal -good graces in the days when he lived in Paris. He had even succeeded, -during the space of eighteen months, in enchanting a very agreeable -little actress who fitted marvellously into the second category, and -he remembered how he had taken in a very pretty and very poor young -middle-class woman who had surrendered herself to him because he had -given himself out to be a rich nobleman. At the moment his mistress -was Mme. de la Mesangerie, a local beauty; but he had never really -possessed her as he desired.</p> - -<p>What Grand Turk ever ruled over such a harem? Paris, the cafés, the -concert halls, the theatres, the stations, the big shops, the gardens, -the Park! The women belong to whoever takes them; none belongs to -herself. None leaves her home in freedom and is sure of not returning -a slave. Leonor had no illusions with regard to the results of his -sensual quest He knew very well that he would captivate none but -willing slaves, slaves by profession, slaves by birth. But the hunt, if -the game came and offered itself graciously to the hunter, would still -have its attraction—that of choice; the fun would be to put one's hand -on the fattest partridge.</p> - -<p>"No," he said to himself, as he walked down the Avenue de l'Opera, -"this child from Robinvast shall not obsess me thus hour by hour. Any -woman, provided she is acceptable to my senses, will deliver me from -this silly vision. Is there such a thing as love without carnal desire? -It would be contrary to physiological truth. If I love Rose, it means -that I desire her.... If I desire her, it means that I have physical -needs. Once these needs are satisfied, I shall feel no desire for any -woman and I shall stop thinking of this silly girl. Hervart can do what -he likes with her; I shan't mind; and, after all, will the satisfaction -which he derives from her be so different from that which some unknown -woman will lavish so generously on me? A little coyness, does that add -a spice? The sensation of a victory, a favour is better. Shall I obtain -a favour? Alas, no. But by paying for it one can have the most perfect -imitations. Ah! why am not I at Barnavast, gauging cubes of masonry, -with glimpses of Placide Gerard's podgy thighs? Now I know just what -will happen.... Does one ever know? It's only eleven in the morning and -I've got a week before me."</p> - -<p>Still pursuing his stroll and his reflections, he entered the Louvre -stores. Here, provincials and foreigners were parading their -requirements and their astonishments. One heard all the possible -ways of pronouncing French badly. It was an exhibition of provincial -dialects. He jumped on moving platforms and staircases, passed down -long files of stoves and lamps, went down again, traversed an ocean -of crockery, went upstairs, found leather goods, whips and carriage -lanterns, tumbled into lifts, was caught once more in a labyrinth of -endless drapery, and after having wandered for some time among white -leather belts garters and umbrellas, he found himself face to face with -Mme de la Mesangerie, who blushed.</p> - -<p>"Is it a stroke of luck?" he wondered.</p> - -<p>Perhaps it was, for she said to him very quickly:</p> - -<p>"I'm alone. My husband has just gone back. I was going to wire to you."</p> - -<p>Then in a lower voice:</p> - -<p>"Well here you are! I don't ask how it happened. Shall we profit by the -opportunity?"</p> - -<p>"It seems to me that I was looking for you without knowing."</p> - -<p>"I have two days," she said, "at least two days."</p> - -<p>They left the shop, making their plans, which were very simple.</p> - -<p>"Let's go," she said, "and shut ourselves up at Fontainebleau for a -couple of days."</p> - -<p>"No, at Compiègne. It's more of a desert."</p> - -<p>She wanted to start on the spot. Her provincial prudery seemed suddenly -to have flown away. She was no longer the calm mistress who had never -yielded except to the most passionate entreaties. The proud-hearted -woman was turning into the lover, full of tenderness, a little reckless.</p> - -<p>As he packed his bag, Leonor felt very happy, though still very -much surprised. He decided, however, that he would ask no equivocal -questions. The woman he was looking for, and whom he would not have -found, had just fallen into his arms. What was more, he knew this -woman, he was in love with her, though without passion; he had derived -from her furtive but delicious pleasures. She inspired him, in a word, -with the liveliest curiosity: he trembled at the thought that he was -now to see her in all her natural beauty.</p> - -<p>"Is she as beautiful as she is elegant? Suppose I were to find a -farm-girl under the dress of the great lady."</p> - -<p>Less than an hour after their meeting they were together in the -refreshment room of the Gare du Nord. They had time to eat a hasty -luncheon, then the train carried them off.</p> - -<p>"I'm quite mad," she said, kissing Leonor's hands. "What an adventure! -It's I who have thrown myself at your head."</p> - -<p>"I have thrown myself so often at your knees!"</p> - -<p>"Very well, let it be understood that I am yielding to an old -entreaty—and to my own desire, my darling boy, for I love you. -Haven't I done what you would have liked often enough? But do you -think I didn't want to as much as you? A woman has so little freedom, -especially in a country place. How many women are there who would dare -do what I have done, even that little? Getting lost when we were out -shooting—that was all right for once. How frightened I was when you -got into my railway carriage, against orders, one evening at Condé.... -Many's the afternoon I've spent dreaming of you, you wicked boy.... -There, you make me quite shameless. I'm glad."</p> - -<p>And she took Leonor's head between her hands, kissing it all over, at -haphazard. Leonor had often seen her kissing her little boy or her dog -like that.</p> - -<p>Hortense was thirty. She owed her name to certain Bonapartist -sentiments which, in her family, had survived by a few years the events -of 1870. Certain elegant habits of thought and manners had also been -preserved. Her father, M. d'Urville had been one of the actors of -Octave Feuillet's comedies, in this same Compiègne where they were now -arriving. At the age when girls begin to forget that there are such -things as dolls, she had read the complete works of this shy passionate -writer; her mother did not forbid her to look at the <i>Vie Parisienne</i>, -in which her happy frivolity had never seen anything that might be -dangerous for a well-bred girl. And so, when she married, Hortense -knew that though marriage may be a garden surrounded by a wall, there -are ladders to climb over this wall; the only things she thought of in -her husband were rank, fortune and the conventions. Her first lover -had been a young officer, with whom, as with Leonor, she had lost -her way hunting; only with him it had been a stag-hunt. Leonor had -participated only at an ordinary shoot, M. de la Mesangerie, in view of -the present hard times, having broken up his pack of hounds. That affair -had been of the most fugitive character. Afterward she had received the -advances of M. de la Cloche, a once celebrated member of the Chamber -of Deputies; but M. de la Cloche voted the wrong way, and under the -cloak of political reasons M. de la Mesangerie closed his doors to him, -in spite of his wife, who concealed a real though momentary despair. -Finally M. Leonor Varin came to stay at La Mesangerie to superintend -certain repairs to the fine Louis XIII house. In this chilly young man, -so cold and yet so romantic as well as sensual, Hortense had found a -more durable love, which greatly increased her happiness. Under a -very skilfully calculated reserve, she adored Leonor, who had, on his -side, always shown himself obedient, respectful, adroit and tender. -She realised that the furtive pleasures which she was able to give him -without compromising herself did not altogether satisfy her lover. She -too, in whom the avid sensuality of the woman of thirty had begun to -wake, desired pleasures of a less rapid and more complicated nature. -Leonor's kisses and the words he whispered had little by little filled -her imagination with images which she wanted to see in real life. How -often she had thought of running away! Two days in Paris! And now her -husband had given her these two days himself.</p> - -<p>When she said, "I'm glad" she was confessing to the existence of a -happiness in which it still seemed impossible wholly to believe. She -pressed herself close to Leonor.</p> - -<p>"Is it true? Are we really both of us here, alone and free?"</p> - -<p>In a whisper she added, her bosom heaving with precipitate waves, "I -shall be yours, absolutely yours, at last."</p> - -<p>"All mine, all?" asked Leonor, touching her mouth with his own.</p> - -<p>"I belong to you."</p> - -<p>She had the wisdom to withdraw, and looking out of the window she asked:</p> - -<p>"Where are we?"</p> - -<p>"We are coming near our happiness," said Leonor.</p> - -<p>They crossed the Oise, calm and gentle; then came the first houses of -Compiègne and in a moment the station. They felt a strange emotion.</p> - -<p>She did not wish to go to the Bell Hotel. A cab took them quickly to -the Stag. Leonor was paying it off, but Hortense, wiser than her lover, -kept it to do a round in the forest. She was pitiless and laughed, but -with passion in her laughter; she changed her clothes and came down -again.</p> - -<p>They passed, without seeing it, before that elegant casket of stone -which is the town hall. Following the fringe of the Great Park they -reached the Tremble hills, where oaks and chestnut trees emerge, like -the sails of ships, above the green ocean of bracken. They got down -from the carriage with the intention of losing themselves for a moment -in this bitter-smelling sea. The woman's white dress and fair hair left -a luminous track as she advanced, for she was flying, like a laughing -nymph before the hoarse laughter of the faun.</p> - -<p>"It was about time," she said when the carriage picked them up to take -them on to the Beaux-Monts.</p> - -<p>"Time? what do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," she went on, "I was too entranced.... We'll come back. Would you -like to? We'll come back every year.... One needs a lot of virtue to -resist the persuasions of the forest."</p> - -<p>"Virtue," said Leonor, "consists in being able to defer one's pleasure -or one's happiness.... I should like to see you in this scented sea, a -nymph, a dryad, a siren...."</p> - -<p>"Do you want to?... You're driving me crazy."</p> - -<p>The climb up the slope of the Beaux-Monts calmed their nerves. The -carriage, which had come round by the circular road, was waiting for -them at the top. They stood for a little while looking at the mist-grey -distances.</p> - -<p>They drove back by the Soissons road; they looked at nothing now and, -since it had grown cool, they drew closer together and sat with clasped -hands.</p> - -<p>Leonor was thinking of the curious chances that had transported him, -in a day or two, from Barnavast into the forest of Compiègne and had -changed his profession from architecture to love. In spite of the fact -that it seemed absurd and almost indelicate, he began, sitting in this -carriage with his mistress's hand in his, to think of his walk with -Rose.</p> - -<p>"Rose is the cause of it all. It is she who brought me here, not you, -poor darling, who sit dreaming at my side. It is she who made me hungry -for the kisses I reserve for you?? kisses that any other woman might -have received in your place.... Yes, squeeze my hand, you may do it, -for I really think I love you. I love you more than chance, I love -you more than the woman I was looking for, because you are the woman -I found. Besides, the perfume of your soul will make sweet your own -pleasure without thinking at all of mine. In love, egotism is a homage; -it is also a sign of confidence."</p> - -<p>The moment came. Silence fell with the night. She strove to hide her -shyness under an impudent smile.</p> - -<p>"Must I be a statue to please you? Am I a statue?"</p> - -<p>"Your beauty would enchant me," he said, "even if it were not you. -Statue, are you made of marble?"</p> - -<p>"You know I'm not."</p> - -<p>She called to mind, though the moment seemed most inapposite, her -husband's pudicity, his discreet entries into the conjugal chamber, -the timidity of his caresses, the decency of his words, and the sudden -savagery after his almost brotherly conversation. M. de la Mesangerie -had explained to her that the final formality was necessary for the -procreation of children. "God," he added, "has so ordered it, and we -must bless his divine providence." He seemed to regret the obligation -of going so far and, whether through natural or acquired foolishness, -or whether through hypocrisy, he encouraged his wife to believe that -sensual pleasures were contemptible. "They are," he even said, "a means -and not an end." Following these principles, he had deprived her of -them as soon as her first child seemed imminent. M. de la Mesangerie -was very pious and prided himself on the possession of a most -enlightened and methodical religion.</p> - -<p>"That's the way," she said to herself, as she looped up her hair, "to -train up a wife for adultery."</p> - -<p>Under the pretext of sticking a pin into her hair, she stood admiring -herself in front of the glass, and at the same time, at the risk of -offending her lover, who shouldn't have doubted the fact, she said, -"You're the only person who has seen me like this, you and I...."</p> - -<p>When Leonor went to sleep she knelt beside his adored body and pious -words came to her lips: she had found the living god at last.</p> - -<p>They had two days. They decided to finish the last hours at Paris and -they returned to shut themselves up in a hotel in the Rue de Rivoli. -Hortense was indefatigable.</p> - -<p>"What shall we do to recapture this?" she asked.</p> - -<p>The idea of taking a little house at Carentan seemed to them a good -one. Mme. de la Mesangerie would always have the pretext of going to -see her mother at Carquebut; her husband accompanied her there only -once a year.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Leonor; "there's the time between two trains, one hour; -then one misses one train. That makes two hours. Plenty of things can -be done in two hours."</p> - -<p>"Lovers learn the art of using every moment."</p> - -<p>To Hortense it seemed as though she had begun a new life, her real -life. She began consulting time-tables, fitting in her connections. -Then she tossed the booklet aside, saying:</p> - -<p>"Bah! It would be much simpler to get divorced."</p> - -<p>"Your husband's virtue stands in the way, my dear."</p> - -<p>She did not insist. Nevertheless, at this moment, she would have -abandoned everything—family, children, house, fortune, honour—to -follow Leonor and become the wife of a little architect with a still -uncertain future. And then she would be the niece of Lanfranc, whose -mother used to sell cakes to the children in the Place Notre-Dame -at Saint-Lô! She had bought them from her when she was ten. Her -aristocratic instinct revolted, but she looked at Leonor and reflected -that the demigods were born of the peasant girls of Attica. She pursued -her idea.</p> - -<p>"Your mother must have been very beautiful."</p> - -<p>"Who told you so? It's quite true."</p> - -<p>She wished to go to the station alone, refused to be seen off.</p> - -<p>"When shall I see you? You're not going to stay on in Paris?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>Leonor kept his word. He saw Hortense starting for the station, with -red eyes, and an hour later he left in his turn.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER XII</h4> - - -<p>Satiated, languid with that fatigue which is a blessing to the body and -a joy for the lightened brain, Hortense was thinking. She was not sorry -to be returning home. The journey—what better pretext could there be -for the headaches which demand darkness and silence, or long morning -hours in bed, for siestas?</p> - -<p>"I must sleep off my love, as drunkards say that one must sleep off -one's wine. But what a horrid comparison! I shall dream deliciously. My -lover, I have only to shut my eyes to see you, happy in my happiness, -and to feel your dear caresses. Tell me, are you pleased with me? What -must I do to be still more your mistress? Yes, I ought not to have -gone away; I ought to have stayed with you, at your orders, forgetting -everything that is not you. You should have run and overtaken me, kept -me, locked me up! But listen, I shall go and see you every week. Oh! -how gladly I shall tell lies! How pleasant it will be for me to look -M. de la Mesangerie in the face while he reads around my eyes only the -innocent fatigue of a long journey!"</p> - -<p>The delirium of the senses invaded all her life. She scarcely -remembered the events that had preceded her trip to Compiègne. She had -spent more than an hour wondering if there were round about St. Lô, or -in the forest of Cerisy, any of these oceans of bracken. She could not -think of any; but she would look....</p> - -<p>M. de la Mesangerie, who was waiting for her at the station, -thought she looked tired. She was not tired; she was in a state of -hallucination. However, she had enough presence of mind to reproach her -husband for having deserted her. Thus, she hadn't dare fix definitely -on the furniture which they had almost chosen together; she had -spent two days of indecision in the Louvre stores, tiring every one, -including herself.</p> - -<p>"You must go back there by yourself," she said, "it will be your -punishment."</p> - -<p>M. de la Mesangerie was flattered. But there was another misfortune: -the toys for the children had been forgotten. Hortense felt rather -ashamed when she confessed this; she also inwardly regretted such an -oversight.</p> - -<p>"I am a lover, but I am also a mother."</p> - -<p>For the first time the possibility of a conflict between two tendencies -of her heart occurred to her. A few minutes' shopping in the town -repaired her omissions, and meanwhile gave opportunity to send a post -card to Barnavast. After that she abandoned herself, with a certain -pleasure, to the re-discovery of familiar landscapes: they were not so -different as she might have thought.</p> - -<p>Leonor went back with no lyrical ideas in his head, but none the less -very well satisfied.</p> - -<p>"I have a mistress of the very kind I wanted. Libertinage and -sentiment. The mixture has a very piquant savour. But I didn't believe -her capable of so much boldness. She would never have dared in her -own surroundings. People only become themselves out of their native -surroundings: they either die or else they develop according to their -own physiological logic. Breton girls, out of whom Paris sometimes -makes such agreeable little drabs, are dreamy little prudes in the -shade of their village belfry. Hortense is, as was said of Marion, -'naturally lascivious'; she might have died without knowing the art of -fruitfully employing this precious temperament. She seemed so awkward -and shame-faced when she abandoned herself at those first meetings of -ours. She loves me. But mayn't she perhaps love me too much? Leave her -husband! No she must remain my secret."</p> - -<p>He was in a very good humour, and took an interest in the trees and -rivers and houses that he passed. The monotony of the apple orchards -and the fields of cows did not bore him in the least. Having nothing to -desire he was enjoying the mere process of living!</p> - -<p>He stopped at Carentan to look for a house in which he could hide a -bed, failed to find one, but discovered a very decent furnished room. -The skipper of an English coasting steamer occupied it sometimes, but -the people would be happy to have a more sober tenant. Everything -smelt strongly of whiskey. He made the bargain, had the room cleaned, -paid well and made no concealment of his intentions. "Oh, yes," they -answered, "the other tenant used to bring them back with him too. It's -all right provided there's no noise."</p> - -<p>"<i>Them</i>, he thought; that's what she'll be for these people. Just one -of them."</p> - -<p>He left them and strolled along the shore to Grandcamp, thinking of -nothing but the little sensations of the moment. He was not one of -those who complain that the seaside is fringed with houses, that -there are shelters where one can take refuge from wind and rain, iced -drinks to melt the salt out of one's throat, board and lodgings and -the movement of a second-rate, but sometimes curious, humanity. These -little boys destined to become gross males, little girls whom time will -turn into pretentious young ladies and rich middle class brides—what -pretty and delicate animals they are! Much more amusing than little -dogs or kittens! He had often pondered on the mystery of intelligence -among children. How is it that these subtle creatures are so quickly -transformed into imbeciles? Why should the flower of these fine -graceful plants be silliness?</p> - -<p>"But isn't it the same with animals, and especially among the animals -that approach our physiology most closely? The great apes, so -intelligent in their youth, become idiotic and cruel as soon as they -reach puberty. There is a cape there which they never double. A few men -succeed; their intelligence escapes shipwreck, and they float free and -smiling on the tranquillized sea. Sex is an absinthe whose strength -only the strong can stand; it poisons the blood of the commonalty of -men. Women succumb even more surely to this crisis. Those who have -been intelligent in their critical age is past. In both sexes there -are two successive crises: the sexual crisis and the sensual crisis. -The first comes at a fixed period for the individuals of the same -race and the same environment. The second generally coincides with -the completion of growth, with the state of physiological perfection. -Sometimes, when decline is beginning, a third crisis occurs, which is -like the first, inasmuch as it almost always brings with it a condition -of sentimentality. Hervart, I feel almost sure, is going through this -crisis now; Hortense and I are at the second; Rose is undergoing the -first."</p> - -<p>Leonor, like many of his contemporaries, despised his profession. He -was an architect, but his desire was to write scientific works, showing -that physiology is the base of all the so-called psychical phenomena. -All the acts which men call virtuous or vicious were, he considered, -made inevitable by the state of the organs and the disposition of -the nervous system. Nothing made him want to laugh so much as the -pretensions of cold-blooded women who make a merit of their chastity; -and he was amazed, after so much scientific data, at the way in which -men went on considering the explosions of the organism as voluntary or -involuntary. The influence of conscience on human conduct seemed to -him null. He had demonstrated this to one of his friends, a master in -an ecclesiastical school, by means of a grandfather clock which stood -in his study. "What you call conscience," he said, "is the weight that -works the striking apparatus. But I can take off that weight and the -clock will go on making the hours without striking them." This friend -had confessed that his own very real chastity was entirely involuntary: -women roused no desire in him. He had once made the experiment and had -obtained, after the greatest difficulty, only a most disappointing -result. "I believe," he added, "that most of my colleagues are like -me. Some of them, more favoured by nature, employ their faculties in -secret; another has a private vice; and I know one who is a danger -for children. For the most part we are chaste by the will of nature -herself. Debauchery would be a torture for me. I am only interested in -mathematics."</p> - -<p>Leonor, however, had no intention of succumbing to the embraces of the -sensual crisis.</p> - -<p>"Let me profit by this momentary disposition, but let me preserve -at the same time a certain spirit. I mustn't compromise either my -physical, intellectual or social fortune. Within these limits I can -give myself body and soul to this midsummer madness. Hortense is a -perfect violin; I will be her devoted bow. And between her hands, -am not I also a good instrument? Oh! the fools who pass their life -fighting against their passions! After that, what happens? When they -see that the garden is almost flowerless, they come in melancholy -fashion to smell the last rose: the wind passes and they find only a -bush of leaves and thorns! But shouldn't I also ask: after that? May -it not be that the only delicious thing in life is the constancy of an -unconscious love? I know only too well that I love Hortense, and I know -only too well why I love her. It is certain that on the day when she -appears to me less beautiful I shall leave her. Suppose I let it go at -that? Suppose I looked for something else? Is variety as satisfactory -as quality? Let's have a look on this beach.... I must make use of -my state of mind, that is to say of the pleasing irritation of my -nerves...."</p> - -<p>Chance is scarcely ever anything more than our aptitude to take -advantage of circumstances. On the beach Leonor met a young and pretty -woman, a young woman of the sort that one sees so many of, the sort -whose dress and figure tell one nothing decisive. He might have gone -on contemplating the melancholy death of the wave at her feet; but he -was walking for this very purpose—to meet a woman walking by herself: -his desire created the chance. For a moment he was afraid that she was -going to make advances, but she passed on. He followed. Skirting the -water all the while, the young woman moved away from the frequented -part of the sands. She tried to pick up a ribbon of weed, but it -escaped her. Leonor reached it. Out of the water, it was a long vicious -whip-lash. She thanked him, embarrassed by the present.</p> - -<p>"Throw it back, then. It's like most of our desires. As soon as one -holds them fast, one would like to throw them back into the sea."</p> - -<p>She gave a little laugh, a sad, almost a smothered, laugh.</p> - -<p>"Oh! Not always," she said.</p> - -<p>They turned back toward the dunes and, seated on the sand, began to -talk as though they were old friends.</p> - -<p>She looked at him insistently, though not appearing to do so. Finally -she said:</p> - -<p>"You don't look like a nasty man."</p> - -<p>"Is that a compliment?"</p> - -<p>"In my mouth, yes."</p> - -<p>Then, little by little warming up, she talked without stop. It was a -flood of words, like the mounting tide, only more rapid. She told him -the story of her life. Leonor liked this sort of thing from ladies of -equivocal reputations, and he now displayed a keen interest, putting in -little words that inspired confidence. This was what he succeeded in -making out:</p> - -<p>She lived in Paris and gave herself only to a small number of friends, -always the same. The respectability of her life was, therefore, beyond -suspicion. Her parents could not complain of having that sort of -daughter. They lived in the north, near Boulogne; hence, in order not -to meet them or the people from her part of the country, she confined -her peregrinations to the seaside resorts of Normandy. Among her -friends two were particularly dear. One was a young foreigner, who -lived in Paris six months of the year; but he went on sending her money -during the summer The other, though he was older, gave less she liked -him better—being a Parisian, he was clever. He was a civil servant. -She would not specify the office for which he worked, but it seemed to -be the department of Fine Arts. The first of these friends imagined -that she was at Grandcamp, where she had just arrived; for the civil -servant was at Honfleur. That complicated her correspondence a little, -but it was better. Besides, she had had no opportunity of writing to -the civil servant for a long time, for he gave signs of life only by -an occasional postcard. That seemed to her suspicious and made her -sad. When he had last written he was at Cherbourg, but he had given no -address.</p> - -<p>"He looks like a man who wants to get married. Married! he's not -capable of satisfying a woman. All the same, I like him. And besides, I -should miss him for other reasons."</p> - -<p>This woman, with her commonplace life her commonplace brain, had an -agreeable voice, a delicate face, intelligence in her eyes and a sort -of natural elegance. Leonor felt a violent desire for her.</p> - -<p>"I am spending several days here," he said.</p> - -<p>"So am I."</p> - -<p>"Shouldn't we spend them together?"</p> - -<p>She gave a pretty laugh, allowed herself to be entreated, and accepted, -after having once more examined Leonor with a sagacious eye. The -proposition accepted, she offered him her lips, looked at the time on a -minute watch and got up, saying:</p> - -<p>"Let's go and have dinner. We must hurry to get a little table."</p> - -<p>Her name was Gratienne. She was a little woman, with a mass of dark -hair, and her profile was charming. Leonor was amused by the contrast -between this little statuette and the opulent Leda type of Hortense. -She had a supple body, fresh and delicately scented; and since she -was a professional and ardently shared the pleasures she provoked, he -passed several pleasant nights. The days were much less agreeable, for -he had to submit to long prolix confidences. There were amusing touches -in her stories, but from professional ethics she refrained from ever -uttering a proper name, a fact which somewhat confused her anecdotes.</p> - -<p>One evening, however, in a moment of distraction or of confidence, she -allowed Leonor to turn over her little collection of post-cards.</p> - -<p>"Besides," added, "as you're not Parisian, the names will tell you -nothing."</p> - -<p>Leonor looked at ships, mountains, casinos, girls bathing and many -other interesting pictures. Some were signed Theobald and came from -Austria, others Paul, and came from the Pyrenees.</p> - -<p>"Hullo, Tourlaville castle!"</p> - -<p>Without appearing to do so, he examined the writing of the address with -care. He did not know the hand. The card was signed H. He passed on. -Another of the La Hague castles. This time the signature was Herv.</p> - -<p>"Surely it's Hervart."</p> - -<p>The name appeared in full at the bottom of Martinvast Castle, with a -postscript of "love and kisses."</p> - -<p>"That must be the civil servant in the Fine Arts Department. Obviously."</p> - -<p>For a moment he felt annoyed at being the collaborator, even the casual -collabor, of M. Hervart. He would have preferred someone he did not -know. Theobald pleased him better. But all at once he thought of Rose:</p> - -<p>"It's curious," he said to himself, "that we should love the same women -in all the different styles."</p> - -<p>While Gratienne was looking out of the window, he slipped the card of -Martinvast castle into his pocket.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER XIII</h4> - - -<p>Since his marriage had been decided on, M. Hervart seemed very happy -Rose's confidence in him had grown still greater and with it their -intimacy. He hesitated now about only one thing: what date should he -fix? Rose, without admitting the fact wanted to be married as soon as -possible, so that she might know the end of the story. Women, however, -are broken into prolonged patience. She would wait, if Xavier decided -that they ought to wait. To obey Xavier was to her a great pleasure.</p> - -<p>M. Hervart's latest hesitations were not very comprehensible. His -situation, after the winter, would be in no way altered. What was the -present obstacle? Gratienne? Of course, he thought himself passionately -adored by her, but would she love him less, would she be less hurt a -year hence? His ideas about Gratienne, were moreover, variable. At -one moment he attributed to her the virtue of an unhappily married -woman who has given herself for love to her heart's choice; at the -next going to the opposite extreme, he saw her prostituted to every -chance comer. The humble truth escaped him. Expert in these matters -though he was, he had never been able to see that Gratienne was a girl -who could skilfully reconcile her interests, her pleasures and her -sentimental needs, and who completely dissociated these three things. -What she loved in M. Hervart was the sensual lover, but she none the -less appreciated the rich and serious civil servant in him. For free -love is like legal love in this also, that money reinforces sentiment. -Thus M. Hervart esteemed Gratienne sometimes more and sometimes less, -but he always loved her the same, having, moreover, no visible breach -of contract to reproach her with. The thought of deserting Gratienne -filled him with distress, not because of the pain he himself would -feel, but because of the pain that she most certainly would suffer. -Besides, even when he was in a mood to despise Gratienne, he set store -by her esteem. However, all of that would come right, he thought, for -the situation was a common one and one of those that have to be solved -every day.</p> - -<p>"As soon as I have possessed Rose, I shall think no more of Gratienne, -that's obvious. And then, why should I break with the charming girl -brutally? I don't intend to upset her."</p> - -<p>At bottom, it was the thought of marriage itself that was still -alarming M. Hervart. He felt the tyrant that they all turn into already -rising up beneath the surface of the sweet young girl.</p> - -<p>"She loves me, therefore she will be jealous. So shall I perhaps. Or -perhaps in a few days I shall dislike her. Shall I please her for long? -She loves me because she knows no one else but me."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart's health sometimes alarmed him. He would wake up feeling -more tired than when he went to bed. The least cold caught him in the -throat or in the joints. And when meals were late, his breathing became -difficult and he was seized with giddiness.</p> - -<p>"I'm a fool. Here am I, getting married at an age when wise men begin -unmarrying. Bah! In spite of everything, I'm still tough and I can -still tame a woman."</p> - -<p>He recalled, with pride, his last rendezvous with Gratienne; he had -conquered her, annihilated her, reduced her to a pulp, and himself, -strutting like a cock, had crowed over his happy victim.</p> - -<p>"Besides, with Rose, I shall be master. I shall be for her the Man and -men in general.... By the way, why hasn't Gratienne written to me since -I've been here? Of course, I never gave her my address."</p> - -<p>That had been the right thing, he first thought; then he reproached -himself for it, felt almost remorseful. He hastily concocted a quite -affectionate letter, asking for news. There was a letter-box not far -away, on the St. Martin road; he went quickly downstairs and ran there -with his missive.</p> - -<p>On his return he found Rose in the garden. Since their engagement she -had been living in a perpetual smile. She entered naïvely into her -destiny, suspecting no further possible obstacle to her happiness. At -the same time, by what must have been instinctive coquetry, she had -become, not more reserved, but less prompt at their habitual sports. -She spoke a great deal of her future house, picturing to herself -their drawing-room furniture, which she pictured from the illustrated -catalogues, and the colour of their carpets and curtains. The idea -of this furniture horrified M. Hervart, who had a taste for antiques -and happy discoveries, which he mixed, without shame, with practical -constructions made under his own directions. To-day he found it more -difficult than usual to tolerate this housewifely chatter. He was bored.</p> - -<p>"Can it be," he wondered, "that I feel nothing but a wholly carnal -love for her? What's the use of marrying, if I can't see in her the -wife, the mother, the lady of the house as well as the mistress? In -that case Gratienne is quite enough for me. Marriage is delightful when -one is fresh from school. One finds the happiest establishments among -students. They live on one another, in one another. Promiscuity seems -an enchantment. One makes one's first acquaintance with the opposite -sex; one completes oneself. Later on, all this intimacy is no longer -possible; and later still, one is very well content with mere amorous -visitations while one awaits the moment when solitude brings the only -instants of appreciable happiness."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart brought his meditations to no conclusions, and so the -morning passed—Rose choosing imaginary wallpapers and Xavier -philosophising in secret on the unpleasantnesses of marriage.</p> - -<p>After luncheon, a diabolic idea occurred to him: Why shouldn't he -take a definite advance on his conjugal rights? The blood went to his -head. He began to breathe a little heavily as he pressed Rose against -him. When they were seated, the usual ceremony took place after the -usual rebuffs. She allowed her lover's hand to wander. Their mouths, -meanwhile, were kissing, drinking one another. After a moment of calm, -M. Hervart, on his knees now, took one of Rose's feet in his hand. He -caressed the ankle and she made no resistance, when he became more -daring, though much moved, still she did not protest, and did no more -than whisper, "Xavier! No! No!" Nothing more happened. M. Hervart -did not dare. While, feeling very uncomfortable, he was deploring his -virtue, Rose fondled him and called him naughty.</p> - -<p>"It's curious," he thought, "that they all have the same vocabulary by -nature."</p> - -<p>He was ashamed. Nothing makes a man ashamed so much as having failed in -his purpose, what ever may have been the cause of his failure. He said, -a little nervously:</p> - -<p>"Let's walk a little. Let's do something."</p> - -<p>"What an idiot I am," he thought, as they walked along the Couville -road, where there are rocks and a little heather and foxgloves among -the birch-trees; "after all, she's my wife."</p> - -<p>On the following days the same manoeuvre was repeated several times, -and M. Hervart always hesitated at the decisive moment.</p> - -<p>"Besides," he wondered, "would she let me? I can hardly violate my -fiancée, can I? I have taught her nothing she doesn't know. If we came -on to untried lessons, how would she take it?..."</p> - -<p>He continued: "Dismal pleasures for me. I've had enough of them. It -was amusing only the first time."</p> - -<p>Finally, one evening when they had gone out alone, a thing which never -had happened before, he was a little more daring....</p> - -<p>The darkness made Rose receive her lover's caresses more willingly than -usual. She was expecting them. The thing which had appeared so bold to -M. Hervart obviously seemed already quite natural to her....</p> - -<p>"Much more natural, perhaps, than allowing me to touch her breast or -the under side of her arm...."</p> - -<p>M. Hervart made bold to ask for more.... "Rose! Rose!"</p> - -<p>But the girl recoiled. Suppressing a cry, Rose got up and said: "Let's -go indoors."</p> - -<p>She added, a moment later, "It's wrong Xavier, it's wrong. Respect me."</p> - -<p>"What logic," said M. Hervart to himself. "Respect me! But it's true, I -made a mistake. With young girls especially one must begin at the end."</p> - -<p>The next day they met very early and Rose, refusing to listen to -anything he had to say, refusing even to give him a friendly kiss, -pronounced the sentence on which she had been meditating:</p> - -<p>"I am angry. If you want me to pardon you, go away at once and write -to me a week hence that everything's arranged for our marriage. I -love you. You will realise that when I am your wife, but not before. -I have been willing to play with you and you have tried to abuse the -privilege. It's wrong. Go!"</p> - -<p>He had to go, she was inflexible.</p> - -<p>When M. Hervart got into the express at Sottevast, Rose cried. She had -forgiven him because she loved him. She had forgiven him because he had -obeyed.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER XIV</h4> - - -<p>From 8.57 a.m. till the hour of 6 p.m., when she rang at his door, M. -Hervart had precisely one idea, a single one: he must meet Gratienne.</p> - -<p>She had been in Paris since the day before, and she had just written to -him when she got his telegram from Caen. Her delight was very great. -She fulfilled her lover's desire with joy.</p> - -<p>"I love you, my old darling!"</p> - -<p>M. Hervart spent two days without thinking of Rose except as something -very remote. He was thrilled to re-discover the Louvre: he looked at -the colonnade before he went in; even the "fighting Hero" seemed a -novelty to him: he went and meditated in front of the crouching Venus, -of which he was especially fond. It was there that he had often met -Gratienne. How he loved her! What a pleasure it had been to come back -to his "ephebe."</p> - -<p>On the third day after his arrival he received Gratienne's letter -forwarded from Robinvast. That disturbed him a little—Rose's writing -superimposed on Gratienne's.</p> - -<p>"But aren't they superimposed in life? No, I mean, mingled together. -Rose is much too ignorant of the way things go to have any suspicion. -And besides, I must have got at least ten letters in women's -handwriting while I was at Robinvast and I never made any attempt at -concealment.... Rose—it's true I went rather far with her. But whose -fault was that? If she had resisted my first attacks, I shouldn't have -insisted. What an egoist she is!... However, I ought to write to her. -No, not to-day. It's my turn to be cross."</p> - -<p>During the day he thought several more times of Rose. The scenes in -the garden and the wood came back into his mind and unnerved him. Then -a question posed itself in his mind: Do I love her? But he would not -answer. Others presented themselves yet insistently: How shall I draw -back. He did not understand. He had no intention of drawing back. Well, -then, should the marriage take place? He really didn't know.</p> - -<p>"I must have a breathing space. I come back, I have arrears of work and -friends to sec. Everything must be done properly. For the little dryad -of the Robinvast wood, there is only one thing in the world and that is -I. For me there are a dozen things, a thousand...."</p> - -<p>He rang the bell, gave unnecessary orders, asked futile questions. It -was only at about three o'clock that he opened the door to an image -which had been prowling round his head since the morning: Gratienne was -coming to pick him up at four and they were to go to St. Cloud. That -was one of his great pleasures.</p> - -<p>"Will Rose be able to understand these profoundly civilised landscapes, -this well-tamed nature, these hills with their harmonious lines like -the body of a lovely sleeping woman?"</p> - -<p>M. Hervart felt in very good form. The uncomfortable symptoms which had -disquieted him in the country had disappeared since his return.... He -found in Gratienne a favourable reception and to the realisation of his -desires. She knew his tastes and she shared them. In short, he promised -himself several delightful hours after this familiar outing. However -a very disagreeable surprise was in store for him. After the preludes -of passion, when his whole being was bent on realisation, M. Hervart -had a moment of weakness. Gratienne's skilful tenderness had certainly -overcome it, the self-esteem of both parties had been preserved.</p> - -<p>In the morning, he thought of Stendhal, carried the volume to his -office and read chapter LX of <i>L'Amour</i> with the greatest attention. -He found nothing there to enlighten him. Gratienne, certainly, did -not inspire, and indeed no woman had ever inspired, in him that kind -of ill-balanced passion in which the body recoils, alarmed at its own -boldness.</p> - -<p>"Stendhal no doubt had discovered one of the reasons for an absence -of apropos, but he had found only one. And besides, all this doesn't -belong to psychology; it is physiology. There's nothing but physiology. -Bouret will tell me about it."</p> - -<p>Bouret, who knew M. Hervart's life, made him relate, point by point, -the whole history of his last year. Finally he said: "Well it's very -simple."</p> - -<p>Bouret employed no circumlocutions. He was clear and brutal. After a -moment's reflection he continued!</p> - -<p>"The inevitable accompaniment of Platonic love is secret vice. Simple -flirtation leads to the same consequences. Double flirtation is secret -vice <i>à deux</i>, discreet and hypocritical. Triple flirtation, if it -exists, would still be secret vice <i>à deux</i>, but avowed, frank. It -would perhaps be less dangerous than double flirtation, which is -simply realisation artificially provoked. No virility can stand that. -Women, for another reason less easy to explain, are destroyed by it -just like men. Men are fools. If you want a woman, take a woman and -behave like a fine animal fulfilling its functions! And above all -beware of young girls. Young girls have destroyed the virility of more -men than all the Messalinas in the world. Sentimental conversations, -furtive kisses and hand-squeezings are almost always accompanied in -an impressionable man, especially if he has several months or even a -few weeks of chastity behind him, by loss of vigor. Then do you know -what happens? One gets used to it. I believe that our organs, despite -their close interdependence, have a certain autonomy. The first thing -you must do is to preserve perfect chastity for an indefinite period. -Active occupations, fatigue; you must procure sheer brute sleep. Then, -in two or three months make a few direct attempts, absolutely direct. -If that's all right, you must marry and set your mind to producing -children. There."</p> - -<p>"Then you condemn me to conjugal duty."</p> - -<p>"That's it precisely."</p> - -<p>"One should marry a woman one doesn't love?</p> - -<p>"That would be true wisdom."</p> - -<p>"And be faithful to her?"</p> - -<p>"Obviously."</p> - -<p>"Or else renounce everything?"</p> - -<p>"I won't go as far as that. Your case isn't desperate. You have fled in -time."</p> - -<p>"I didn't fly. I was driven away."</p> - -<p>"Bless her cruel heart. Tell me, did she permit indiscretions?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I should almost have said willingly."</p> - -<p>"She will be a dangerous wife."</p> - -<p>"She is so innocent!"</p> - -<p>"There are no innocent women. They know by instinct all that we claim -to teach them."</p> - -<p>"That's just what innocence is."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps. But a delicate voluptuary with an innocent and amorous girl -is a lost man."</p> - -<p>"I begin to realise the fact."</p> - -<p>"There are not," Bouret went on, "several kinds of love. There is only -one kind. Love is physical. The most ethereal reverberates through the -organism with as much certainty as the most brutal. Nature knows only -one end, procreation, and if the road you take does not lead there, she -stops you and condemns you at least to some simulacrum; that is her -vengeance. Every intersexual sentiment tends towards love, unless its -initial character be well defined or unless the partners are in a phase -of life in which love is impossible.... But I am treating you too much -as a friend and too little as a patient. You seem to be pensive. You're -not as much interested in questions as Leonor Varin. He is my pupil -in the physiology of morals. How is Lanfranc? He doesn't Platonise, -doesn't flirt...."</p> - -<p>"Oh! no."</p> - -<p>"Varin interests me. Do you know him?"</p> - -<p>"Very little."</p> - -<p>"The loss is yours. One of his days he will become a fine mind, if he -gets over the sensual crisis. I'd like to marry him to some one."</p> - -<p>"That's your panacea."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps it is one, my friend, on condition that marriage is taken -seriously. It's only in marriage that one can find stability. By the -way, have you seen Des Boys' daughter? He writes to me from time to -time. We have remained friends because, though he's a fool, he's a -laconic fool. And then he's a very decent sort of fellow and a man to -whom I owe my position. He seems to be almost embarrassed with his -daughter. He has no connections in the world. What's she like? Pretty?</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Intelligent? I mean, of course, as far as a woman can be intelligent."</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"And now the principal thing—her health?"</p> - -<p>"Good as far as one can see."</p> - -<p>"Ho, ho! I shall unloose Varin in pursuit of this nymph."</p> - -<p>"Unnecessary; he knows her."</p> - -<p>"Ah, he knows her?"</p> - -<p>M. Hervart got up. He was afraid that some unforeseen question might -make him say something silly. Suppose Bouret, who was a friend of Des -Boys, guessed something? He tried to think of an ambiguous phrase and -found one:</p> - -<p>"I spent a day at the Des Boys' with Varin. I don't know if he's a -familiar of the house."</p> - -<p>And with that he went away.</p> - -<p>"What a bad business!" he said to himself, as he thought of his health, -for the rest was of secondary importance to him now. "No more women! No -more Gratienne! No libidinous thoughts! Am I master of my thoughts? Why -not a course of pious reading?"</p> - -<p>He spent several black days, then gave orders, in one of the galleries -of his museum, for one of those untimely upheavals which drive the -amateur wild. M. Hervart needed to distract himself. After a week, -Gratienne grown anxious, sent him an express letter. He yielded to the -suggestion and that evening made an attempt which Bouret would have -considered premature. However, it succeeded marvellously well and M. -Hervart felt new life spring within him.</p> - -<p>The next day, as he was in excellent spirits, he wrote to Rose, whose -prolonged silence had ended by pricking his self-satisfaction.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER XV</h4> - - -<p>On reaching Barnavast, Leonor had found two letters; which of the two -interested him the more he could not tell. One was from M. Des Boys, -asking him to come and finish, before the winter, and immediately, if -he could, the alterations at Robinvast. A room was ready for him. He -had but to give them warning, and they would send for him. The second -came from La Mesangerie. It was a diary.</p> - -<p>"15th September. What are my children's kisses after the kisses of my -lover? It is like the smell of the humble pink after the heady perfume -of the rarest flowers...."</p> - -<p>"What a fool the woman is," said Leonor inwardly. "Why does she write. -She has intelligence, her conversation is agreeable, she has taste, and -see what she writes! God, how melancholy!..."</p> - -<p>"... But pinks have their charm, just as they have their own season, -and I am happy to come back to them, since their season has returned."</p> - -<p>"That," thought Leonor, "is better; it's almost good.... Is Hervart -still at Robinvast? I hope not. His holiday wasn't indefinite, I should -think. Suppose I wrote to Gratienne?"</p> - -<p>"... You flowers that the touch of my Beloved made to blossom in my -heart, you perfume my soul, you intoxicate my senses...."</p> - -<p>"Intoxicate my senses.... Is it necessary to remember myself to -Gratienne? I would as soon get my information from another source."</p> - -<p>"... intoxicate my senses. My body trembles at the thought of the night -at Compiègne, every moment of which is a star that shines in my dreams. -I did not know what love was...."</p> - -<p>"Who does know what love is?... I don't feel bound to answer that -to-day. Now I come to think of it, I don't know where Gratienne is. -She must have left almost at the same time as I did. Let's leave it at -that...."</p> - -<p>"... what love was.... I have no desire to meet Hervart again at -Robinvast. He bores me. Is she really going to marry this civil -servant? If Rose knew. Yes, but if Rose knew everything, would she -think much more of me than of M. Hervart? I am ten years younger than -he, that's all; and my mistress is a much heavier millstone about my -neck than his. It's easy to get rid of a Gratienne; with some one like -Hortense, the process is much more difficult. She may make a scandal, -she may kill herself, she may make her husband turn her out and then -come and take refuge in my arms.... What then? Besides I love this -beautiful woman quite a lot and it would distress me very much if I had -to drive her to despair. And then Rose is wildly in love. Let me be -reasonable. Where was I? Still at love."</p> - -<p>"... what love was, before knowing you; I did not know what pleasure -was before our mad night...."</p> - -<p>"That's very likely. But I am doubtful about love. Is it love, that -frenzy of sensual curiosity that makes us desire to know, in every -aspect and in all its mysteries, the longed-for body? Why not? It is -indeed, probably, the best kind of love. Bite, eat, devour! How well -they realise it—those who reduce the object of their love to a little -bit of bread which they swallow. The Communion—what an act of love! -It's marvellous. Bouret would think that foolish, perhaps; but Bouret, -right as he is in being a materialist, is wrong in not understanding -materialistic mysticism. Can any one be at once more materialistic and -more mystical than those Christians who believe in the Real Presence? -Flesh and blood—that's what lovers want too, and they too have to -content themselves with a mere symbol."</p> - -<p>"... our mad night. It revealed a new world to me. I shall not die, -like Joshua, without having seen the earthly paradise."</p> - -<p>This phrase, despite its banality, pleased Leonor, who had begun to -feel more indulgent towards his mistress.</p> - -<p>"To write along letter like this was a great effort for her, and as -it was for me that she made the effort, I should be a cad to laugh -at it. That is why it would be as well to read no more. I shall ask -her to give me a rendezvous too. Afterwards I shall go to Robinvast. -Everything fits in well."</p> - -<p>The assignation at Carentan was difficult to arrange. Hortense, at -first delighted and ready to start, seemed to hesitate. It was too -near, the town was too small. But her desire was so strong! What should -she do? She hoped to find some pretext for going to Paris alone.</p> - -<p>The truth was that, re-established in her surroundings, Hortense -did not feel sufficiently bold to flout the rules voluntarily. She -was one of those women who are ready to do anything, provided that -circumstances determine their will. She could yield on an impulse to -an imperious lover, where or when did not matter, as soon as safety -was assured; she would profit by a chance, but to create chance, -to organise it—that was another matter. Her escapade at Compiègne -appeared to her now as one of those strokes of fortune which life does -not grant twice. She dreamed of a new chance meeting with Leonor; but a -concerted assignation! At the very thought, she felt herself followed, -shadowed; the idea made her quite ill. To be surprised by her absurd -husband—how shameful that would be!</p> - -<p>"If Leonor came here we could easily find some means. I could have a -headache, one Sunday, stay in my room, be alone in the house; besides, -there is luck."</p> - -<p>She always entrusted herself to luck. She had never yielded to any of -her lovers except on the spur of the moment.</p> - -<p>"Might we not recapture," she went on, "something of the night at -Compiègne, even in a rapid abandonment?"</p> - -<p>Women are ruminants: they can live for months, for years it may be, -on a voluptuous memory. That is what explains the apparent virtue of -certain women; one lovely sin, like a beautiful flower with an immortal -perfume, is enough to bless all the days of their life. Women still -remember the first kiss when men have forgotten the last.</p> - -<p>Hortense dreamed, Leonor desired. He thought only of yesterday's -mistress, when he did think of her, in order to make her the mistress -of to-morrow. His sentimentality was material. He crossed the stream -from stone to stepping-stone, from reality to reality. In default of -Hortense, he had taken Gratienne, not to satisfy his physical, but -his cerebral needs. To live, he had to have the electuary of two or -three sensations, always the same, but always fresh. Was he capable -of a profound emotion, and would such a love have influenced his -physiological habits? He did not know. Faithful to Bouret's theories, -he did not think so.</p> - -<p>He wrote to Hortense: "I want you to come." She was frightened but -happy.</p> - -<p>"How he loves me!"</p> - -<p>The pleasure of obeying struggled in her with fear. Fear, at certain -moments, gave way.</p> - -<p>"Since he wants me to come, it is clear that he knows I can come, that -there is no danger. And then, he will be there!"</p> - -<p>She leaned on Leonor as on a second husband, stronger, more real, -though distant. Distant? But wasn't he always present in her thoughts?</p> - -<p>One morning her fear gave way altogether, she wrote, set out, arrived.</p> - -<p>She was trembling, and she still trembled long after the bolts were -shot.</p> - -<p>This new festival of love was vain, on account of her sensibility. -Leonor, astonished by a coldness which he imagined he had overcome for -ever, attributed it to a failure of tenderness. He knew that women -only palpitate with the men they adore, but he thought that they ought -always to palpitate. He did He did not know that there are women who, -their whole life long, pursue the delirious sensations which they are -doomed never to find again. He imagined therefore, that he was no -longer loved, and he was bitter, for men are readily bitter when their -mistress's exaltation is too moderate.</p> - -<p>Hortense wept. "Oh, my dream, my beautiful dream!"</p> - -<p>Her tenderness had, however, in no way diminished. Leonor had to admit -it as he received contritely Hortense's poignant kisses. He asked her -pardon, humiliated himself, and for a moment she was happy in the -caresses of her lover, but she was still whispering to herself, "Oh, my -dream, my beautiful dream!"</p> - -<p>After her departure, Leonor coldly informed his landlady that he -did not mean to come back; then after a long tedious wait in an inn -parlour, he returned to Barnavast. A letter awaited him, pressing him -to come. M. Des Boys begged him, with a kind of anxiety, to fix the day -on which they could come and fetch him.</p> - -<p>Leonor would have liked, however, to devote some few days to -meditation. He had a question to answer, "Does she love me?"</p> - -<p>"We shall not meet again at Carentan, that is decided. Besides, it -was absurd. What a place to make love in! Her failure was due to her -repugnance for the surroundings. It was a sign of her refinement of -feeling. And then women have no imagination. To me, everything is a -palace; the woman I adore would light up a hovel.... Does she love me?"</p> - -<p>But it was in vain that he repeated the question, he could find no -answer.</p> - -<p>"What a fool I am! I shall see well enough next time. I continue to -love her. She is beautiful, she is obedient.... But is that the aim of -my life? Suppose she were given me for my own?"</p> - -<p>But to this question he could think of no answer either.</p> - -<p>Hortense, at the same moment, in the old room she had had before she -was married, was going to sleep, sighing, "Oh, my dream, my beautiful -dream!"</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER XVI</h4> - - -<p>When Leonor arrived at Robinvast, Rose and her father were sitting -in the garden, each of them reading a letter.... From time to time, -Rose would raise her eyes and look at the trees; M. Des Boys between -two sentences of his letter would examine his daughter. During this -last fortnight, she had been pale, sad, out of humour; and her father, -absent-minded, but affectionate, had grown anxious. What was going -on between the recently engaged couple? But M. Des Boys would never -have dared to question his daughter. He was waiting for a confidence, -knowing quite well that it would never come; and on her side, Rose was -unhappy at having to keep locked up in her heart the troubles that -were suffocating her. These two people, shy and secretive towards one -another, might have remained like this for years without deciding to -speak the words which would have consoled them.</p> - -<p>M. Des Boys had accordingly urged Leonor to come and finish his work.</p> - -<p>"It will be a distraction for her," he had thought, "and then, at -bottom and in spite of my pledged word, I agree with my wife: Leonor -would be a much more suitable husband. What! Can Hervart be making her -unhappy already."</p> - -<p>The letter he was reading at this moment put the final touch to his -anxiety. It was from Bouret and Leonor was much praised in it. Bouret -went on:</p> - -<p>"I have seen Hervart and have equally advised him to get married, but -for different reasons. Though he is little younger than we are, he is -probably nearer the end. We shall all, alas, see this end confronting -us, if we live another fifteen years. Do you understand me? With -prudence and diplomacy, Hervart can still drag on a long time, can -even recapture brilliant moments; but he has played too much on the -fine violin given him by nature. The strings will snap one after the -other. As long as one remains a virtuoso, one can still astonish ears -habituated to vulgar exercises; but all the same, a single string is -very risky! I have therefore ordered him to marry and, above all, to be -faithful to his wife. Fidelity will bring satiety, satiety will bring -continence, and continence will perhaps be the true philter. A young -wife is not so dangerous as one thinks for a man on the down grade. She -is a favourable stimulant and, at the same time, a moderating element. -In fine, Hervart may make a very good husband. In any case it's an -experiment that interests me. I should be quite capable—if it gives -good results, that is, at least a fine child—of yielding myself to an -old temptation. I would give up my practice and go and cultivate roses -and camellias in some corner of your earthly Paradise, in the Saire -Valley, where one sees palms among the willow-trees!"</p> - -<p>"I had almost forgotten one important point in our hypothesis. The -young wife must have a virtuous temperament, without coldness, but -also without sensual curiosity; a good reproducing animal, apt in the -pleasure of conceiving rather than in the pleasure of love-making; one -of those who, after having been blushing brides, become loving mothers. -If he falls on some rebellious woman he is lost. If the instrument -which he has to tune and render sensitive gives out no sound or false -notes he will lose courage and return to his old concerts. But if, by -chance, his wife should reveal herself as a creature of voluptuousness, -his perdition would be still more certain: Hervart would flare up -like a faggot and nothing but a handful of ashes would be left. I am -not speaking of the adultery which would, in these last two cases be -inevitable. Sometimes it has the effect of re-establishing the balance -in a dislocated household; there are excellent conjugal associations in -which each party has his or her ideal down town, in a different quarter -of the city. But this is a matter of sociology and doesn't interest -me. I remain in my domain, which is the human body, its functions, -its anomalies. I may add that it is by their ignorance of it that the -sociologists think of such nonsense as they do. They are still hard -at work—the idiots!—reasoning about averages, they never come down -to reality, to the individual. How it is despised, this human body of -ours! And yet it is the only truth, the only beauty, just as it is the -only ideal and the only poetry...."</p> - -<p>Bouret was inclined to philosophise. His letters almost always passed -the range of his correspondents' comprehension. He saw that himself, -when he re-read them, and smiled. All that M. Des Boys understood in -his friend's dissertation was the passage which concerned Hervart; -but that he understood very well. Bouret's reticences produced their -ordinary effect: Hervart was considered as a man incapable, condemned -without reprieve.</p> - -<p>"He's a madman. What does he mean by going and captivating a young -girl's heart when he isn't sure of being able to make a wife of her! -The Lord knows, women aren't angels; they have corpora! sensations; and -then maternity, maternity...."</p> - -<p>M. Des Boys confided to himself all the scabrous or moral banalities -that such a subject could make him think of. Meanwhile, he examined his -daughter.</p> - -<p>"How shall I explain this to her? I shall make her mother do it."</p> - -<p>He continued his meditations; and sometimes he would smile at the -evocation of foolish fancies, sometimes his brows contracted and he -would feel a mixture of anxiety and anger.</p> - -<p>Rose was also reading:</p> - -<p>"... but I have been very ill since my arrival here. Some fever, due, -it may be to the delicious excitement of my heart. A great depression -has been the result and I now feel a most disquieting lassitude. Alas! -the conclusion is sad: we must put off our marriage. It's a infinite -pain to me to write this; but I ask myself when it will be possible? -Will it ever be possible? No, I won't ask that. It would be terrible. -I love you so much! What a happiness it is to walk again with you, in -fancy, through the wood at Robinvast! If I was too audacious, you will -pardon me won't you, because of the violence of my love...."</p> - -<p>There was a lot more in this style, and a less inexperienced woman -than Rose would have felt the artificiality of this amorous eloquence -Not a word of it, certainly, came from the heart. M. Hervart, who was -not cruel, had first laid down the principle of his illness and his -intention was to draw from it, graduating deceptions, all its logical -conclusions. If necessary, he had said to himself, Bouret will help -me. M. Hervart, who was by nature a man of the last moment and the -present sensation, thought of Rose only as one thinks of a sick friend, -for whose recovery one certainly hopes, but without anguish of mind. -However the fatuity inevitable in the male sex assured him that he -was not forgotten: he flattered himself on having left a wound in the -young girl's heart which would never altogether close, and he felt -what was almost remorse. To enjoy the egoist's complete peace, he -would have consented to a sacrifice; he would have allowed Rose, not -forgetfulness, but melancholy resignation.</p> - -<p>"Poor child!... But it had to happen. I hope she won't be too unhappy."</p> - -<p>The perusal of M. Hervart's letter left Rose sad and charmed:</p> - -<p>"Oh, how he loves me! Oh, my darling Xavier, you are ill then?"</p> - -<p>And she thought of the fiancée's cruel fate:</p> - -<p>"He is ill, and mayn't go and console him."</p> - -<p>She was turning towards her father when he rose to meet Leonor. It was -in the presence of the young man and without paying heed to him that -she imparted M. Hervart's news.</p> - -<p>"He is ill, he has had a touch of fever...."</p> - -<p>"Fever?" exclaimed M. Des Boys.</p> - -<p>"Yes, and afterwards he's been feeling very weak after it."</p> - -<p>"Very weak, yes. What then?"</p> - -<p>"What then, why, our marriage has to be postponed...."</p> - -<p>"Of course."</p> - -<p>"I'm very anxious."</p> - -<p>"So I should imagine."</p> - -<p>"Why shouldn't we go and see him?"</p> - -<p>"Do you think it would be any use?"</p> - -<p>"It would give him such pleasure."</p> - -<p>"Does he ask you to do it?"</p> - -<p>"No...."</p> - -<p>"Well, then."</p> - -<p>"He doesn't dare ask."</p> - -<p>"Is he as shy as all that?"</p> - -<p>This innocent question made her blush.</p> - -<p>"I'll speak of it with your mother," M. Des Boys continued. -"Meanwhile, let's get on a little with our architecture."</p> - -<p>Rose had been so bored since Xavier's departure, she had been so -miserable at his long silence, and now she was feeling so anxious that -she accepted her father's proposal without repugnance.</p> - -<p>This time they were dealing with the house, there were urgent repairs -to be made and useful ameliorations. As they went round, the architect -pointed out the weak spots. A whole plan of restoration formed itself -in his head.</p> - -<p>The days passed. The masons were soon at work. Rose hardly left -Leonor's side.</p> - -<p>They had news of M. Hervart more than once through the newspapers, for -his rearrangements at the Louvre had drawn upon him the epigrams of the -press; but he himself remained silent.</p> - -<p>In the circumstances M. Des Boys had resolved to say nothing, to leave -time to do its work. Later on, when no dangerous memories of her past -love remained in Rose's heart, when she should be married, he would -confide her the truth, with a smile.</p> - -<p>One day Leonor let fall, from the top of a ladder, a pocket-book from -which a flood of papers—sketches, bills, letters, picture post-cards -—escaped. Rose picked them up, without giving them more than the -discreetest glance when Martinvast castle caught her eye. At the loot -of the keep she found M. Hervart's "love and kisses." The blood came -suddenly to her eyes; she turned the card over and read: "Mademoiselle -Gratienne Leboeuf, Rue du Havre, Honfleur." She looked up; Leonor did -not seem to have noticed the incident, and with a rapid gesture she -folded up the card and slipped it into her bosom.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur Leonor, you've dropped your pocket-book."</p> - -<p>Leonor descended his ladder and thanked her, while Rose walked away. -When she had disappeared he noticed with delight that she had stolen -Martinvast Castle; then, whistling, he climbed up once more to see his -workmen.</p> - -<p>Arrived in her room, Rose sat down, trembling.</p> - -<p>"I have made a mistake," she said to herself. "It isn't possible. And -how could it have come into Leonor's hands?"</p> - -<p>She extracted the card from its hiding-place, unfolded it and looked at -it, trembling.</p> - -<p>"It's his writing all right."</p> - -<p>She still felt doubtful.</p> - -<p>"What's the date?"</p> - -<p>She deciphered it without difficulty. "Cherbourg, 31 July, 1903."</p> - -<p>"The very day we went to the Liais Garden, the day we went up that -tower where I almost fainted with love.... I was so happy!"</p> - -<p>She began crying. Through her tears she looked at her hands, turning -them, looking at all the fingers one after another. She looked as -though she were rediscovering them, taking possession of them once more.</p> - -<p>Finally she got up and stamped her foot.</p> - -<p>"Very well then, I don't love him any more. There! Good-bye, Monsieur -Hervart. You deceived me, I shall never forgive you. And I had such -confidence in him; I let myself rest so softly on his heart."</p> - -<p>She was still crying.</p> - -<p>"Now, I am ashamed...."</p> - -<p>And she felt her body, from head to feet, as though to take possession -of it also. She would have liked to press it, to wring it so that all -the caresses, all the kisses which had sunk into her skin, penetrated -her veins, thrilled her nerves, might be drained out of it.</p> - -<p>In her already perverted innocence she pictured to herself the mutual -caresses of Xavier and this Gratienne woman. She pictured to herself -this woman's body and compared it with her own. Was she more beautiful? -In what is one woman's body more beautiful than another's? Xavier had -loved to caress her, to crush her in his arms. And used he not to say: -"How beautiful you are!" A vision, against which she struggled in vain, -showed her Xavier kneeling beside Gratienne and covering her with -kisses.</p> - -<p>A heat mounted in her breast, her heart contracted; she tried to cry -out, half got up, clutched at the air with her hands and fell in a -faint.</p> - -<p>When she came to herself, she felt very tired and very frightened as -well. She looked about her, afraid to discover the reality of the -painful vision which had overwhelmed her. Reassured, she breathed -again.</p> - -<p>"It was a dream, only a dream."</p> - -<p>But it seemed as though a spring had suddenly been released in her -heart. Throughout her whole being there was a sudden change. Under her -maiden breast, grief had taken up its home. She felt it as one feels -a piece of gravel in one's shoe. It was something material which had -insinuated itself into the intimacy of her flesh, causing her, not -pain, but a sense of discomfort.</p> - -<p>At the same time, all that she habitually loved seemed to her without -the faintest interest. She looked with an indifferent eye at this -room in which she had dreamt so many dreams, this room that she had -arranged, decorated with so much pleasure, so much minute care, this -cell she had spun and woven herself to sleep in, like a chrysalis, till -the awakening of love should come. The great trees of the wood which -she could see from her window, and could never see without emotion, -appeared to her patches of insignificant greenery: she noticed, for -the first time, that their tops were of uneven height and she was -irritated by it. There was a sound of hammering; she leaned out of the -window and saw two men splitting a block of granite, and for a moment -she wondered what for.</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, of course, the repairs.... What does it all matter to me? Ah! -where are my dear solitary hours in the old house, imprisoned by its -ivy and climbing roses! And now Leonor! I wish he'd go away. He's the -cause of it all. If it hadn't been for his clumsiness, I should never -have known of the existence of this woman.... But how did he come to -have that card in his pocket?"</p> - -<p>The idea of a voluntary indiscretion did not occur to her. She had -never dreamt that Leonor could feel for her any emotion of tenderness. -Besides, no man except Xavier had yet existed in her imagination. There -was Xavier on the one hand; and on the other there were the others.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile she went on reflecting. Love, jealousy, grief, quickened her -natural intelligence.</p> - -<p>"There were several letters in the pocket-book addressed to M. Varin. -That's natural. But why this card addressed to that woman? He must -know her too. She must have given it to him because of the view of -Martinvast Castle, I suppose...."</p> - -<p>She could not succeed in reconstructing the adventure of this -post-card. There was some mystery about it, which she soon gave up the -hope of solving.</p> - -<p>"But all I have to do is to ask M. Leonor. How simple! But then I shall -have to tell him that I stole his postal card, for I have stolen it! -It's not very serious, perhaps, but how shall I dare talk to him about -it, how shall I, first of all, confess that I had the bad manners to -look at his correspondence? Oh! but a post-card, a picture! And then I -shall tell him the truth? it fell under my eyes by chance, and if the -card had been turned with the address side upwards, I should certainly -not have turned it over...."</p> - -<p>What was most repugnant to her was the necessity of speaking of -Gratienne, for Leonor was not ignorant of her projected marriage with -M. Hervart. She remained undecided, and at once she began to suffer -once more; for her grief had spared her a little while she was engaged -in her deliberations.</p> - -<p>She was so wretched and so tired that when the dinner-bell rang she -went down without thinking of her dress, without refreshing her eyes, -still red and inflamed with crying.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER XVII</h4> - - -<p>Leonor was on the watch for the effect of his cure. He saw that evening -that it had succeeded. Rose looked like a shadow, a dolorous shadow. -She forgot to eat, and would sit looking into the void, her hand on -her glass; she did not reply to questions unless they were repeated. -Finally, it was obvious that she had been crying.</p> - -<p>"The remedy has been a painful one," said Leonor to himself. "Will she -bear a grudge against the doctor? Perhaps, but the important thing was -to scratch out the unblemished image stamped on her heart. That has -been done. Across M. Hervart's portrait, in all directions, from top to -bottom, from side to side, there is written now: Gratienne, Gratienne, -Gratienne.</p> - -<p>"Ah, little swallow of the beach, how precious you have been for me! I -will give you a golden necklet to thank, in your person, the supreme -goddess of hearts. Hervart, I envied you once now I am sorry for you. -I despise you too. You had found love, ingenuous and absolute, you had -found in a single being, the child, the mistress and the wife, you -possessed the smile of innocence and the woman's desire—and you have -left it all for Gratienne and her caresses. But no, no invectives; -worthy civil servant, I thank you. Yes, but am I much better? My -Gratienne is a marquise, to be sure, but I have one just the same. No, -I have ceased to have a Gratienne. I shall be loyal. I will fling my -old burden into the sea, and at your feet, sad maiden, I shall kneel, -heart free."</p> - -<p>Nothing happened that evening. Rose preserved her silence, and her -attitude towards Leonor was the same as at other times. But she had -to make a painful effort to preserve her customary amiability. Leonor -wondered, deliberated within himself whether he should speak. Might -he not question her, with a distracted air about the post-card of -Martinvast? "He had thought it was with the other papers, but he -couldn't find it. Perhaps the wind carried it away."</p> - -<p>"No, that would be too direct. She may have suspicions; I shall try to -destroy them. I should be lost if she had certainties. But I have no -doubts. She will come of her own accord, she will speak first. And I -shall look as though I didn't understand; she will have to drag out of -me one by one a few ambiguous words."</p> - -<p>The days passed. Rose remained in the same melancholy state, ruminating -on her grief. Still she did not speak, and Leonor foresaw the moment, -when, his presence being no longer necessary, he would have to take his -leave. The operations on the outside of the house were coming to an -end, the weather had made digging impossible and Rose had decided that -the interior repairs should be put off till the spring.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Leonor began to suffer in his turn. By living in the same -house as Rose he had felt the love, that had to begin with been -somewhat chimerical, grow and take root within him. From the moment -of their first meeting Rose had aroused in him something like a love -of love. He had first been moved by the generosity of an innocent -heart giving itself with so noble a violence. Next, he had felt that -vague jealousy which all men feel for one another. He had detested M. -Hervart, without being able to keep himself from admiring the spectacle -of his happiness. The desire to supplant him had naturally tormented -Leonor; but it was one of those desires which one feels sure can never -be realised and at which, in lucid moments, one shrugs one's shoulders. -Since chance and his own good management had so much modified the -logical sequence of things to his own profit, Leonor had begun to tell -himself that one should never doubt anything, that anything may happen -and that the impossible is probably the most reasonable thing in the -world.</p> - -<p>In these few weeks he had become more serious than ever, and above all -more calm. His egotism began to be capable of long deviations from -its straight course. He knew very well that Rose, if he hazarded a -confession, would reply with indifference, perhaps with anger. His plan -was to risk a few discreet insinuations on some suitable opportunity.</p> - -<p>"I might," he reflected, "put on the melancholy, disenchanted look -myself. She is ill, and it would be a case of one sick person seeking -some comfort in the eyes of a companion in misfortune.... Comedy! But -would it be so much of a comedy? Have I found in life all that I looked -for? If I had found it, should I be here dreaming of the capture of a -young girl? It's my right, to do that, since I love; all means will be -fair which put the resources of my imagination at the service of my -heart."</p> - -<p>But the opportunity of striking a melancholy, disenchanted attitude -never presented itself. Rose considered him more and more as an -architect, praised his skill in managing the workmen, and paid no -attention to his youth, his cleverness or even to the way he looked at -her—and his glances were often penetrating. There were moments when he -became discouraged. The memory of Hortense came back to him. They had -exchanged a few anodyne letters. She called him to her, but in a weak -voice, and it was in uncertain terms that he announced his next visit.</p> - -<p>"Dying love is always melancholy," he thought. "The poem would have -been beautiful if we had said good-bye after Compiègne. We tried to add -a verse, and it has been a failure. It's a pity. But what will become -of her? I still feel some curiosity about her."</p> - -<p>At other moments he pictured to himself Gratienne and the elegant -manner of her posturing; that roused him for a time. But the image of -M. Hervart would seem to come and mingle with that of this agreeable -young woman, and the charm would be broken.</p> - -<p>Rose's arrival would dispel all these visions. He took a great delight -in seeing her walk, enjoying, though with no idea of libertinage, the -grace of her movements.</p> - -<p>Leonor's departure had already been spoken of. One rainy afternoon, -Rose decided to speak. She did it very seriously, without attempting -to dissimulate her unhappiness. Between the two there followed a -conversation which took the tone of friendly confidences.</p> - -<p>After long hesitation she put the question for which Leonor had been -waiting with so much anxiety. He had forged several anecdotes with -which Rose would doubtless have been satisfied; but when the moment -came, rather than hesitate and risk inevitable contradictions, he -suddenly decided on a certain degree of frankness.</p> - -<p>He said: "The card fell into my hands because I myself have also been -entertained by this person. M. Hervart, I must tell you, was not there; -he did not know and she shall certainly never know. I had no idea -myself that he was the intimate friend of the house. That was why his -name struck me, appended as it was to 'best love.'"</p> - -<p>"It was 'love and kisses.'"</p> - -<p>"Of course, I remember now." And he repeated, with an intonation that -aggravated the words, and stamped them on the young girl's bruised -heart: "Yes, 'love and kisses.' There were a number of picture -post-cards addressed to the same person; there were many signed with the -same name or an abbreviation: H., Her., Herv. I was bold enough to take -one as a souvenir of my visit. And then ... and then.... May I say it, -Mademoiselle?"</p> - -<p>"Say what you like. Nothing can hurt me any more now."</p> - -<p>"Very well; I got hold of this card dishonestly, perhaps, but it was -because I was thinking of you.... I was thinking that the man to whom -you had just given your hand loved another woman and publicly admitted -his love for her. That seemed to me bad; I suffered for you—you whose -delicate and generous feelings I had guessed.... Yes, that distressed -me and my idea was, by stealing this proof of a wrong action, to let -you know of it, if circumstances allowed me."</p> - -<p>"Then you dropped your pocket-book on purpose?"</p> - -<p>"I confess. I did. And if that method had failed, I should have tried -to find another."</p> - -<p>"You hurt me a great deal. All the same, I am grateful to you."</p> - -<p>She held out her hand; Leonor pressed it respectfully.</p> - -<p>"I have given you less pain now than you would have felt later on. It -would have been irremediable then."</p> - -<p>"Who knows? I might perhaps have forgiven him afterwards. I shall not -forgive before."</p> - -<p>"I know M. Hervart fairly well," said Leonor, in a slightly -hypocritical voice, "but I know that, despite his age, he is -capricious. M. Lanfranc is a spiteful gossip and I won't repeat all -he told me. I know enough, and from certain sources, to make me -congratulate myself on what is perhaps an audacious intervention."</p> - -<p>"And what about my father? He has agreed to our marriage."</p> - -<p>"Your father lives a long way from Paris. He is kind and trustful. No -doubt his friend promised him to make you happy, and he believed him."</p> - -<p>"I believed him too. Alas! he had begun to make me happy already."</p> - -<p>"Oh! his intentions weren't bad. M. Hervart is not a bad man. He is -fickle, inconstant, irresolute."</p> - -<p>"I see that only too clearly."</p> - -<p>"He's an egoist. All men are egoists, for that matter, but there are -degrees. Is he capable of loving a woman whole-heartedly, capable of -consecrating his life to weaving daily joys for her? And yet what could -be a more perfect dream, when one meets in his path a creature who is -worthy of it, one who draws to herself not only love but adoration!"</p> - -<p>"I suppose that women like that are rare."</p> - -<p>"Those who have known one and desert her are very guilty."</p> - -<p>"Say rather that they are very much to be pitied. But not being one of -these women, I didn't ask so much."</p> - -<p>"You don't know yourself, Mademoiselle. Oh! if only I had been in M. -Hervart's place."</p> - -<p>"What would have happened?" asked Rose, without the least emotion, -without even the least curiosity.</p> - -<p>"How I should have loved you!"</p> - -<p>"But he loved me a great deal."</p> - -<p>"He didn't love you as you should be loved."</p> - -<p>"I don't know. How should I know these things? I believed, that was -all. I believed in him."</p> - -<p>"He was not worthy of you."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps it was I who was unworthy of him, since he loves me no more."</p> - -<p>"Unworthy of him, you? Don't you know, then, what this woman is?"</p> - -<p>"No, and I don't want to know. Oh! I'm not jealous. I'm humiliated. I -feel as though I had been beaten. Jealous? No. I have stopped loving -and I shall never love again."</p> - -<p>"Don't say that."</p> - -<p>"Love doesn't come twice."</p> - -<p>"But if one is unhappy the first time?"</p> - -<p>"One remains unhappy."</p> - -<p>"Happiness always has to be looked for. When one looks for it one finds -it."</p> - -<p>"Happiness falls from heaven one day; then it goes up again and never -descends any more."</p> - -<p>"Don't say that. You will be happy."</p> - -<p>"It's finished."</p> - -<p>"You will be happy as soon as you meet some one you really love with -all the force of an ardent and devoted heart."</p> - -<p>"Don't let's speak of these things. It hurts me."</p> - -<p>"I obey you. I will be silent, but not before telling you that that -heart is mine."</p> - -<p>Rose looked at him with astonished eyes. She seemed not to understand. -Leonor, very much moved, got up, walked towards her and said, in a -whisper:</p> - -<p>"Rose, I love you."</p> - -<p>At these words, Rose started, and when Leonor tried to take her hand, -she got up and ran away, crying:</p> - -<p>"No, no, no, no."</p> - -<p>"How stupid I've been," Leonor said to himself, when he was alone. -"Does one declare one's love like this? Here am I on a level with the -lowest heroes of novels. Think of declaring one's love, saying, 'I am -hot,' to a woman who is cold. What does it mean to her? Words possess -eloquence when the ears expect them. If not, they ring false. They only -incline hearts which have already abdicated their will."</p> - -<p>Leonor was very sincerely in love with Rose; hence he was very unhappy. -He imagined, moreover, that M. Hervart was already completely pardoned. -Rose was only awaiting some act of humility to give herself to him -again.</p> - -<p>"She is hurt in her pride. Her heart is happy, if happiness consists -in loving much more than in being loved. It is a painful pleasure, but -none the less a pleasure, for her to talk of M. Hervart...."</p> - -<p>That evening Leonor had no difficulty in putting on a melancholy and -disenchanted look. He felt these two emotions to perfection, and Rose, -who could not help looking at him, noticed it.</p> - -<p>"Can he really be in love with me," she wondered, "——he?"</p> - -<p>The next morning, when she woke up, she asked herself the same -dangerous question. Then suddenly, a wave of red mounted to her head. -She had just remembered all the amusements into which her own innocence -and M. Hervart's perverse good-nature had led her.</p> - -<p>"I am dishonoured," she said to herself. "Am I a maiden?"</p> - -<p>This was the first time that she had felt any shame in calling to mind -the kisses and caresses in which her heart, rather than her body, had -felt pleasure. Though she was unconscious of the transference, the pain -which she still felt had, without changing its nature, changed its -cause.</p> - -<p>When Leonor said good-morning she felt herself blushing and immediately -turned her head, to discover an imaginary piece of thread on her skirt.</p> - -<p>"So it's to-morrow that we shall have to drive you back," said M. Des -Boys.</p> - -<p>"If the garden isn't arranged before the winter," said Rose, "we shall -have to wait till next autumn."</p> - -<p>"Obviously," said Leonor; "one can't transplant in the spring. At -least, it's a most delicate operation."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, stay and let's finish it off," said M. Des Boys.</p> - -<p>Leonor stayed.</p> - -<p>"Since I have made a declaration and it has been successful, I shall -now pay my addresses. Can it be that the old methods are the best?"</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER XVIII</h4> - - -<p>In those last autumn days, under the rain of dead leaves, they enjoyed -delicious hours. Leonor lived attentively, taking care that no -single word of his might shock the young girl. Rose, her eyes always -sad, answered with cordial politeness. Their words were measured, -insignificant, but they were uttered in a voice full of a secret -emotion.</p> - -<p>They directed the alterations together, giving no orders without -consulting one another; and they were soon agreed about everything, for -their only desire was to stand together looking at the workmen. They -confined themselves to cutting a few useful paths, transplanting a few -bushes and arranging the lawns and flower-beds.</p> - -<p>The decisive gestures in life are almost always the simplest, the most -ingenuous. Discovering a few sprigs of violet under a wall, picking -them, offering them to her: that was the act which won for Leonor his -first smile from the girl, a smile that was still vague, a smile in -which the soul, so long solicited, showed itself for an instant, as -though at a window visited at last by the sun.</p> - -<p>One day, while they were holding a lilac that was being transplanted, -their hands met. Rose withdrew hers without affectation, but a little -later she approached it once more and perhaps that tree, as it was -wrenched from the earth, felt a thrill of love passing through its -sleeping trunk.</p> - -<p>Leonor thought of nothing but the charm of his present life; he -analysed himself no more; he made no plots or projects; he breathed -pure air, he was opening out.</p> - -<p>Though less wretched, Rose still suffered. One evening, when she was -undressing to go to bed, she called to mind all the liberties she had -permitted. No detail was spared her, and it was in vain that her body -revolted; along her nerves she felt the now shameful shudder of her -former voluptuousness. She threw herself into her bed and soon, in the -warmth, the imaginary contacts grew more numerous and precise. Then, -losing her head, she yielded and went to sleep in a trance of pleasure.</p> - -<p>Accordingly, in the mornings, she was apt to be a little peevish. -Leonor seemed, at these moments, to lose all he had gained in the -afternoons; but he was not disturbed by it. He knew that characters -change according to the time of day, as they change according to the -season. Happy in being able to hope for everything, he waited without -impatience. Exorcising Rose demanded a whole morning of Leonor's -company. The sound of his voice, rather than his words, calmed her -possessed spirit. She would end by doubting the very existence of the -spell from which she had been released and, by the time lunch was over, -she was a child smiling at love.</p> - -<p>Some evenings the crisis was very intense. Hardly had she entered her -room when she seemed to receive a kind of imperious injunction to look -at herself in the glass. Standing there, she would press her shoulders -feverishly. Then she felt herself lifted up and carried to her bed, at -the mercy of the demon of love. At other times the obsession was less -malignant and she was able to attempt some resistance. The fall was -slow, gradual and sometimes incomplete. She noticed that she had more -peace and more strength on the evenings when she had, by her attitude, -encouraged Leonor to make some tenderer utterance, and that fact caused -her great joy. For she loved her exorcist; like a sick woman full of -confidence, she loved her doctor.</p> - -<p>Now she appeared more humble and at the same time almost provocative. -She allowed her eyes to rest more often and for a longer time on the -young man's face. She even came to studying his face when he was -looking, and, though she dropped her eyes quickly at the first alarm, -Leonor noticed it.</p> - -<p>"She loves me, she loves me. Ah! this time she will listen to me, and -perhaps she will speak."</p> - -<p>But, by dint of loving innocently, Leonor had become shy; and several -days passed in the motions of the eyes and heart. Rose derived great -consolation from them. One evening, when the obsession had almost left -her in peace and she was about to go to sleep victorious, she suddenly -saw herself once more in the drawing room. Leonor was offering her a -marvellous flower of a kind she did not recognise. She took it and when -she smelt it felt an inexpressible sweetness slowly penetrate her whole -being; she was asleep.</p> - -<p>She awoke full of joy, a thing that had not happened since the day -of her great grief. She was smiling at Leonor before she had even -seen him. They met on the stairs. Leonor heard a door slam, the sound -of hurrying feet. He drew back to make passage room. It was Rose. -Playfully, as she had already allowed him to do, he made as though to -bar her way.</p> - -<p>"You shan't pass," he said.</p> - -<p>"Very well, I won't pass."</p> - -<p>And she fell into the open arms that closed at once round her body—a -happy prisoner.</p> - -<p>"Do you love me, then? At last?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I love you."</p> - -<p>Rose never once remembered that it was thus she had fallen into M. -Hervart's arms in the staircase of the tower. She forgot in its -entirety the first adventure of her poor abused heart and her troubled -senses. When M. Hervart's name was pronounced in her presence, it -recalled to her those studious walks at Robinvast with that old friend -of her father's who told her the anecdotes of entomology.</p> - -<p>M. Des Boys, as he had resolved, revealed to his daughter what he -called the misfortunes of M. Hervart. And so, when she heard that -he was to marry Mme. Suif, she allowed herself an honest smile of -commiseration. That happened in the third year of their marriage; they -were spending the season at Grandcamp, where, without knowing her, she -often rubbed shoulders with a young woman who had played a decisive -part in her history.</p> - -<p>Leonor was wandering one morning on this same beach where Gratienne had -attracted him; but he was not thinking of Gratienne, who as it happened -was looking at him, from a distance, with interest. He was thinking of -Hortense, of whose death he had seen the announcement in a local paper; -of Hortense, who had written him, on the eve of his marriage, a letter -so moving in its proud resignation that it had almost made him weep; -of Hortense whom he had loved and who perhaps had died because of his -happiness.</p> - -<p>When he came back, Rose received him as a lover is received. She had -found in marriage the attentions which her nature demanded. She was -happy.</p> - - -<h4>THE END</h4> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Virgin Heart, by Remy de Gourmont - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A VIRGIN HEART *** - -***** This file should be named 44384-h.htm or 44384-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/3/8/44384/ - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at http://www.freeliterature.org -(Images generously made available by the Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: A Virgin Heart - A Novel - -Author: Remy de Gourmont - -Translator: Aldous Huxley - -Release Date: December 8, 2013 [EBook #44384] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A VIRGIN HEART *** - - - - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at http://www.freeliterature.org -(Images generously made available by the Internet Archive) - - - - - -A VIRGIN HEART - -A Novel - -BY - -REMY DE GOURMONT - -Authorized Translation - -by - -ALDOUS HUXLEY - -Toronto - -THE MUSSON BOOK COMPANY LIMITED - -1922 - - - - -Preface - - -The author had thought of qualifying this book: A Novel Without -Hypocrisy; but he reflected that these words might appear unseemly, -since hypocrisy is becoming more and more fashionable. - -He next thought of: A Physiological Novel; but that was still worse -in this age of great converts, when grace from on high so opportunely -purifies the petty human passions. - -These two sub-titles being barred, nothing was left; he has therefore -put nothing. - -A novel is a novel. And it would be no more than that if the author -had not attempted, by an analysis that knows no scruples, to reveal in -these pages what may be called the seamy side of a "virgin heart" to -show that innocence has its instincts, its needs, its physiological -dues. - -A young girl is not merely a young heart, but a young human body, all -complete. - -Such is the subject of this novel, which must, in spite of everything, -be called "physiological." - -R. G. - - - - -A VIRGIN HEART - - - -CHAPTER I - - -The terrace was in a ruinous state, over-grown with grass and brambles -and acacias. The girl was leaning on the Parapet, eating mulberries. -She displayed her purple-stained hands and laughed. M. Hervart -looked-up. - -"You've got a moustache as well," he said. "It looks very funny." - -"But I don't want to look funny." - -She walked to the little stream flowing close at hand, wetted her -handkerchief and began wiping her mouth. - -M. Hervart's eyes returned to his magnifying glass; he went on -examining the daisy on which he had two scarlet bugs so closely joined -together that they seemed a single insect. They had gone to sleep in -the midst of their love-making, and but for the quivering of their -long antennae, you would have thought they were dead. M. Hervart would -have liked to watch the ending of this little scene of passion; but it -might go on for hours. He lost heart. - -"What's more," he reflected, "I know that the male does not die on the -spot; he goes running about in search of food as soon as he's free. -Still, I would have liked to see the mechanism of separation. That will -come with luck. One must always count on luck, whether one is studying -animals or men. To be sure, there is also patience, perseverance...." - -He made a little movement with his head signifying, no doubt, that -patience and perseverance were not in his line. Then, very gently he -laid the flower with its sleeping burden on the parapet of the terrace. -It was only then he noticed that Rose was no longer there. - -"I must have annoyed her by what I said about the moustache. It wasn't -true, either. But there are moments when that child gets on my nerves -with that look of hers, as though she wanted to be kissed. And yet, if -I did so much as to lay my hand on her shoulder, I should get my face -smacked. A curious creature. But then all women are curious creatures, -girls above all." - -Carefully wiping his glass, M. Hervart stepped across the stream and -entered the wood. - -M. Hervart was about forty. He was tall and thin; sometimes, when his -curiosity had kept him poring over something for too long at a stretch -he stooped a little. His eyes were bright and penetrating, despite the -fact that one of them had, it would seem, been narrowed and shrunk by -the use of the microscope. His clear-complexioned face, with its light -pointed beard, was pleasant, without being striking. - -He was the keeper of the department of Greek sculpture at the Louvre, -but the cold beauty of the marbles interested him little, and -archaeology even less. He was a lover of life, who divided his days -between women and animals. Studying the habits of insects was his -favourite hobby. He was often to be seen at the Zoological Gardens, -or else, more often than at his office, in the animal-shop round the -corner. His evenings he devoted to amusement, frequenting every kind -of society. To sympathetic audiences he liked to give out that he was -the descendant of the M. d'Hervart whose wife had La Fontaine for a -lover. He used also to say that it was only his professional duties -that had prevented his making himself a name as a naturalist. But the -opinion of most people was that M. Hervart was, in all he did, nothing -more than a clever amateur, ruined by a great deal of indolence. - -Every two or three years he used to go and stay with his friend M. -Desbois at his manor of Robinvast, near Cherbourg. M. Desbois was a -retired commercial sculptor, who had recently ennobled himself by means -of a Y and one or two other little changes. When M. Des Boys burst -upon the world, Hervart appeared not to notice the metamorphosis. That -earned him an increase in affection, and whenever he came to visit, -Mme. Des Boys would take almost excessive pains about the cooking. - -Mme. Des Boys, who had been sentimental and romantic in her youth -and had remained all her life rather a silly woman, had insisted on -calling her daughter Rose. It would have been a ridiculous name--Rose -Des Boys--if Rose had been the sort of girl to tolerate the repetition -of a foolish compliment. Ordinarily she was a gay and gentle creature, -but she could be chilling, could ignore and disregard you in the -cruellest fashion. Her parents adored her and were afraid of her: so -they allowed her to do what she liked. She was twenty years old. - -Meanwhile, M. Hervart was looking for Rose. He did not dare call her, -because he did not know what name to use. In conversation he said: You; -before strangers, Mademoiselle; in his own mind, Rose. - -"She was much nicer two years ago. She listened to what I had to say. -She obeyed me. She caught insects for me. This is the critical moment -now. If we were bugs...." - -He went on: - -"Whether it's women or beetles, love is their whole life. Bugs die -as soon as their work is done, and women begin dying from the moment -of their first kiss.... They also begin living. It's pretty, the -spectacle of these girls who want to live, want to fulfil their -destiny, and don't know how, and go sobbing through the darkness, -looking for their way. I expect I shall find her crying." - -Rose, indeed, had just finished wiping her eyes. They were blue when -she was sad and greenish when she laughed. - -"You've been crying. Did you prick yourself coming through this holly? -I did too." - -"I shouldn't cry for a thing like that. But who told you I'd been -crying? I got a fly in my eye. Look, only one of them's red." - -But, instead of lifting her head, she bent down and began to pick the -flowers at her feet. - -"May I sit down beside you?" - -"What a question!" - -"You see, your skirt takes up all the room." - -"Well then, push it away." - -M. Hervart turned back the outspread skirt and sat down on the old -bench--cautiously, for he knew that it was rather rickety. Now that he -had money and an aristocratic name, M. Des Boys had become romantic. -His whole domain, except for the kitchen garden and the rooms that -were actually inhabited, was kept in a perennially wild, decrepit -state. In the house and its surroundings you could see nothing but -mouldering walls and rotten planks moss-grown benches, impenetrable -bramble bushes. Near the stream stood an old tower from which the ivy -fell in a cataract whose waves of greenery splashed up again to the -summit of an old oak with dead forked branches--a pretty sight. The Des -Boys never went out except to show their virgin forest to a visitor. M. -Des Boys dabbled in painting. - -It was morning, and the wood was cool, still damp with dew. Through -the thickly woven beech branches the sunlight fell on the stiff holly -leaves and lit them up like flowers. A little chestnut tree, that had -sprouted all awry raised its twisted head towards the light! Near-by -stood a wild cherry, into which the sparrows darted, twittering and -alarmed. A jay passed like a flash of blue lightning. The wind crept in -beneath the trees, stirring the bracken that darkened and lightened at -its passage. A wounded bee fell on Rose's skirt. - -"Poor bee! One of his wings is unhooked. I'll try and put it right." - -"Take care," said Mr. Hervart. "It will sting. Animals never believe -that you mean well by them. To them every one's an enemy." - -"True," said Rose, shaking off the bee. "Your bugs will eat him and -that will be a happy ending. Every one's an enemy." - -Rose had spoken so bitterly that M. Hervart was quite distressed. He -brought his face close to hers as her big straw hat would permit, and -whispered: - -"Are you unhappy?" - -How beautifully women manage these things! In a flash the hat had -disappeared, tossed almost angrily aside, and at the same moment an -exquisitely pale and fluffy head dropped on to M. Hervart's shoulder. - -It was a touching moment. Much moved, the man put his arm round the -girl's waist. His hand took possession of the little hand that she -surrendered to him. He had only to turn and bend his head a little, and -he was kissing, close below the hair, a white forehead, feverishly -moist. He felt her abandonment to him becoming more deliberate; the -hand he was holding squeezed his own. - -Rose made an abrupt movement which parted them, and looking full at M. -Hervart, her face radiant with tenderness, she said: - -"I'm not unhappy now." - -She got up, and they moved away together through the wood, exchanging -little insignificant phrases in voices full of tenderness. Each time -their eyes met, they smiled. They kept on fingering leaves, flowers, -mere pieces of wood, so as to have an excuse for touching each other's -hand. Coming to a clearing where they could walk abreast, they allowed -their arms on the inner side to hang limply down, so that their hands -touched and were soon joined. - -There was a silence, prolonged and very delightful. Each, meanwhile, -was absorbed in his own thoughts. - -"Obviously," M. Hervart was saying to himself, "if I have any sense -left, I shall take the train home. First of all, I must go to Cherbourg -and send a telegram to some one who can send a wire to recall me. What -a nuisance! I was joying myself so much here. To whom shall I appeal? -To Gratienne? I shall have to write a letter in that case, to concoct -some story. Three or four days longer won't make matters any worse; I -know these young girls. Time doesn't exist for them; they live in the -absolute. So long as there's no jealousy--and I don't see how there -can be--I shall be all right. She is really charming--Rose. Lord! -what a state of excitement I'm in! But I must be reasonable. I shall -tell Gratienne to meet me at Grandcamp. She has been longing to go to -Grandcamp ever since she read that novel about the place. Besides, -there are the rocks. I'm quite indifferent provided I get away from -here...." - -"What are you thinking about?" - -"Can you ask, my dear child?" - -A squeeze from the little hand showed that his answer had been -understood. Silence settled down once more. - -"Gratienne? At this very moment she's probably with another lover. But -then, think of leaving a woman alone in Paris, in July? 'I am never -bored. I dine at Mme. Fleury's every day; she loves having me. We start -for Honfleur on the 25th. You must come and see us.' She imagines that -Honfleur is close to Cherbourg. 'I am never bored,' Come, come; When -women speak so clearly, it means they have nothing to hide.... On the -contrary it's one of their tricks...." - -"Well, my child, how's your wretchedness? Is it all over?" - -"I am very happy," Rose answered. - -A look from her big limpid eyes confirmed these solemn words and M. -Hervart was more moved than at the moment of her surrender. The idea -that he was the cause of this child's happiness filled him with pride. - -"Better not disturb Gratienne. She's so suspicious. Whom shall I write -to, then? My colleagues? No, I'm not on intimate enough terms. Gauvain, -the animal-shop man? That would be humiliating. What a bore it all -is! Leave it; we'll see later on. And after all, what's the matter? -A little sentimental friendship. Rose lives such a lonely life. Why -should I rob her of the innocent pleasure of playing--at sentiment -with me? Summer-holiday amusements...." - -"Oh," said Rose, "look at that beetle. Isn't he handsome." - -But the animal, superb in its gold and sapphire armour, had disappeared -under the dead leaves. They thought no more about it. Rose was occupied -by very different thoughts. She felt herself filled with an exultant -tenderness. - -"I don't belong to myself anymore. It's very thrilling. What is going -to happen? He'll kiss me on the eyes. There'll be no resisting, because -I belong to him." - -She lifted her head and looked at M. Hervart She seemed to be offering -her eyes. Without changing her position she closed them. A kiss settled -lightly on her soft eyelids. - -"He does everything I expect him to do. Does he read my thoughts or do -I read his?" - -Meanwhile M. Hervart was trying to find something gallant or -sentimental to say, and could think of nothing. - -"I might praise her chestnut hair, with its golden lights, tell her how -fine and silky it is. But is it? And besides, it might be a little -premature. What shall I praise? Her mouth? Its rather large. Her nose? -It's a little too hooked. Her complexion? Is it a compliment to say -it's pale and opaque? Her eyes? That would look like an allusion. -They're pretty, though--her eyes, the way they change colour." - -He had picked a blade of grass as he walked. It was covered with little -black moving specks. "What a bore," said M. Hervart, "I've forgotten to -bring my microscope." - -"I've got one, only the reflector's broken. It will have to be sent to -Cherbourg." - -"Couldn't you take it yourself?" - -"If you like." - -"But wouldn't you enjoy it, Rose?" - -She was so pleased at being called Rose, that for a moment she did not -answer. Then she said, blushing: - -"You see, I scarcely ever go out of this place: the idea hardly occurs -to me. But I should love to go with you." - -She added with a spoilt child's tone of authority: "I'll go and tell -father. We'll start after luncheon." - -M. Hervart looked once more at his indecipherable grass blade. - -"I know a good shop," he said. "Lepoultel the marine optician. Do you -know him? He's a friend of Gauvain's...." - -"The animal man?" - -"What, do you mean to say you remember that?" - -"I remember everything you tell me," answered Rose, very seriously. - -M. Hervart was flattered. It occurred to him also that this sentimental -child might make a very good practical little wife. His rather curious -life passed rapidly before him and he called to mind some of the -mistresses of his fugitive amours. He saw Gratienne; it was six months -since they had met; she would have left him, very likely, by the time -he returned. At this thought M. Hervart frowned. At the same time the -pressure of his fingers relaxed. - -Rose looked at him: - -"What are you thinking about?" - -"Again!" said M. Hervart to himself. "Oh, that eternal feminine -question! As if any one ever answered it! Here's my answer...." - -Looking at the clouds, he pronounced: - -"I think it's going to rain." - -"Oh, no!" said Rose, "I don't think so. The wind is 'suet'...." - -Conscious of having uttered a provincialism, she made haste to add: - -"As the country people say." - -"What does it mean?" - -"South-east." - -M. Hervart was little interested in dialectal forms; rather spitefully -and with the true Parisian's fatuous vanity, he replied: - -"What an ugly word! You ought to say South-east. You're a regular -peasant woman." - -"Laugh away," said Rose. "I don't mind, now. We're all country-people; -my father comes from these parts, so does my mother. I wasn't born -here, but I belong to the place. I belong to it as the trees do, as the -grass and all the animals. Yes, I _am_ a peasant woman." - -She raised her head proudly. - -"I come from here too," said M. Hervart. - -"Yes, and you don't care for it any longer." - -"I do, because it produced you and because you love it." - -Delighted at the discovery of this insipidity, M. Hervart darted, hat -in hand, in pursuit of a butterfly; he missed it. - -"They're not so easy to catch as kisses," said Rose with a touch of -irony. - -M. Hervart was startled. - -"Is she merely sensual?" he wondered. - -But Rose was incapable of dividing her nature into categories. She -felt her character as a perfect unity. Her remark had been just a -conversational remark, for she was not lacking in wit. - -Meanwhile, this mystery plunged M. Hervart into a prolonged meditation. -He constructed the most perverse theories about the precocity of girls. - -But he was soon ashamed of these mental wanderings. - -"Women are complex; not more so, of course, than men, but in a -different way which men can't understand. They don't understand -themselves, and what's more, they don't care about understanding. They -feel, and that suffices to steer them very satisfactorily through life, -as well as to solve problems which leave men utterly helpless. One -must act towards them as they do themselves. It's only through the -feelings that one can get into contact with them. There is but one way -of understanding women, and that is to love them.... Why shouldn't -I say that aloud? It would amuse her, and perhaps she might find -something pretty to say in reply." - -But, without being exactly shy, M. Hervart was nervous about hearing -the sound of his own voice. That was why he generally gave vent only -to the curtest phrases. Rose had taken his hand once more. This mute -language seemed to appeal to her, and M. Hervart was content to put up -with it, though he found this exchange of manual confidences a little -childish. - -"But nothing," he went on to himself, "nothing is childish in love...." - -This word, which he did not pronounce, even to himself, but which -he seemed to see, as though his own hand had written it on a sheet -of paper this word filled him with terror. He burst out into secret -protestations: - -"But there's no question of love. She doesn't love me. I don't love -her. It's a mere game. This child has made me a child like herself...." - -He wanted to stop thinking, but the process went on of its own accord. - -"A dangerous game.... I oughtn't to have kissed her eyes. Her forehead, -that's a different matter; it's fatherly.... And then letting her lean -on my shoulder, like that! What's to be done?" - -He had to admit that he had been the guilty party. Almost -unconsciously, prompted by his mere male instinct, he had, since his -arrival a fortnight before, and while still to all appearance, he -continued to treat her as a child, been silently courting her. He was -always looking at her, smiling to her, even though his words might -be serious. Feeling herself the object of an unceasing attention, -Rose had concluded that he wanted to capture her, and she had allowed -herself to be caught. M. Hervart considered himself too expert in -feminine psychology to admit the possibility of a young girl's having -deliberately taken the first step. He felt like an absent-minded -sportsman who, forgetting that he has fired, wakes up to find a -partridge in his game-bag. - -"An agreeable surprise," he reflected. "Almost too agreeable." - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -It had already grown hot. They sat down in the shade, on a tree trunk. -Large harmless ants crawled hither and thither on the bark, but M. -Hervart seemed to have lost his interest in entomology. Idly, they -looked at the busy little creatures, crossing and recrossing one -another's paths. - -"Do they know what they're doing? And do I know what I'm doing? Some -sensation guides them. What about me? They run here and there, because -they think they've seen or smelt some prey. And I? Oh, I should like to -run away from my prey. I reason, I deliberate.... Yes, I deliberate, or -at least I try." - -He looked up at the girl. - -Rose was engaged in pulling foxglove buds off their stems and making -them pop in the palm of her hand. Her face was serious. M. Hervart -could look at her without distracting her from her dreams. - -She made a pretty picture, as she sat there, gentle and, at the same -time, wild. Her features, while they still preserved a trace of -childishness, were growing marked and definite. She was a woman. How -red her mouth was, how voluptuous! M. Hervart caught himself reflecting -that that mouth would give most excellent kisses. What a fruit to bite, -firm-fleshed and succulent! Rose heaved a sigh, and it was as though -a wave had lifted her white dress; all her young bosom had seemed to -expand. M. Hervart had a vision of roseate whiteness, soft and living; -he desired it as a child desires the peach he sees on the wall hidden -under its long leaves. He took the pleasure in this desire that he had -sometimes taken in standing before Titian's Portrait of a Young Lady. -The obstacle was as insurmountable: Rose, so far as he was concerned, -was an illusion. - -"But that makes no difference," he said to himself, "I have desired -her, which isn't chaste of me. If I had been in love with her, I should -not have had that kind of vision. Therefore I am not in love with her. -Fortunately!" - -Rose was thinking of nothing. She was just letting herself be looked -at. Having been examined, she smiled gently, a smile that was faintly -tinged with shyness. Flying suddenly to the opposite extreme, she burst -out laughing and, holding on with both hands to the knotted trunk, -leaned backwards. Her hat fell off her hair came undone. She sat up -again, looking wilder than ever. M. Hervart thought that she was going -to run away, like Galatea; but there was no willow tree. - -"I don't care," she said as M. Hervart handed her the hat; "my hair -will have to stay down. It's all right like that. Pins don't hold on my -head." - -"Pins," said M. Hervart, "pins rarely do hold on women's heads." - -She smiled without answering and certainly without understanding. She -was smiling a great deal this morning, M. Hervart thought. - -"But her smile is so sweet that I should never get tired of it. Come -now, I'll tell her that...." - -"I love your smile. It's so sweet that I should never get tired of it." - -"As sweet as that? That's because it's so new. I don't smile much -generally." - -It was enough to move any man to the depths of his being. M. Hervart -murmured spontaneously: - -"I love you, Rose." - -Frankly, and without showing any surprise, she answered: - -"So do I, my dear." - -At the same time she shook her skirt on which a number of ants were -crawling. - -"This sort doesn't bite," she said. "They're nice...." - -"Like you." (What a compliment! How insipid! What a fool I'm making of -myself!) - -"There's one on your sleeve," said Rose. She brushed it off. - -"Now say thank you," and she presented her cheek, on which M. Hervart -printed the most fraternal of kisses. - -"It's incomprehensible," he thought. "However, I don't think she's in -love. If she were, she would run away. It is only after the decisive -act that love becomes familiar...." - -"If we want to go to Cherbourg," said Rose, "we must have lunch early." - -They moved away; soon they were out of the wood and had entered the -hardly less unkempt garden. It was sunny there, and they crossed it -quickly. She walked ahead. M. Hervart picked a rose as he went along -and presented it to her. Rose took it and picked another, which she -gave to M. Hervart, saying: - -"This one's me." - -M. Hervart had to begin pondering again. He was feeling happy, but -understood less and less. - -"She behaves as though she were in love with me.... She also behaves -as though she weren't. At one moment one would think that I was -everything to her. A little later she treats me like a mere friend of -the family..... And it's she who leads me on.... I have never seen -that with flirts.... Where can she have learnt it? Women are like the -noblemen in Moliere's time: they know everything without having been -taught anything at all." - -M. Hervart weighed down in mind, but light of heart, went up to his -room, so as to be able to meditate more at ease. First of all he -smarted himself up with some care. He plucked from his beard a hair, -which, if not quite silver, was certainly very pale gold. He scented -his waistcoat and slipped on his finger an elaborately chased ring. - -"It may come in useful when conversation begins to flag." - -He was about to begin his meditations, when somebody knocked at the -door. Luncheon was ready. - -M. Des Boys, despite the disturbance of his plans seemed pleased. A -drive, he declared would do him good. He needed an outing; besides he -had a right to one. - -"I have just finished the ninth panel of my of my life of Sainte -Clotilde. It is her entry too the convent of Saint Martin at Tours." - -M. Hervart manifested an interest in this composition, which he had -admired the previous evening before it had been given the final -touches. He hoped to see it soon in its proper frame, with the other -panels in Robinvast church. - -"There are going to be twelve in all," said M. Des Boys. - -"People will come and see them as they do the Life of St. Bruno that -used to be at the Chartreux and is now in the Louvre." - -"So I hope." - -"But they won't come quite so much." - -"Yes, Robinvast is rather far. But then who goes to the Louvre? A few -artists, a few aimless foreign sightseers. Nobody in France takes an -interest in art." - -"Nobody in the world does," said M. Hervart, "except those who live by -it." - -"What about those who die of it?" asked Rose. - -Mme. Des Boys looked at her daughter with some surprise: - -"I have never heard that painting was a dangerous industry." - -"When one believes in it, it is," said M. Hervart. - -"What, not dangerous?" said M. Des Boys "What about white lead?" - -"One must believe," said Rose, looking at M. Hervart. - -"This just shows," M. Des Boys went on, "what the public's point of -view in this matter is. My wife's marvellously absurd remark exactly -represents their feelings." - -There followed a series of pointless anecdotes on Mme. Des Boys' -habitual absence of mind. M. Hervart very nearly forgot to laugh: he -was thinking of what Rose had just said. - -"Rose," said M. Des Boys, "ask Hervart if we weren't believers when we -went around the Louvre. We were in a fever of enthusiasm. Hervart is my -pupil; I formed his taste for beauty. Unluckily I left Paris and he has -turned out badly. I remain faithful, in spite of everything." - -"But" said M. Hervart, "faithfulness only begins at the moment of -discovering one's real vocation." - -Rose seemed to have given these words a meaning which M. Hervart had -not consciously intended they should have. Two eyes, full of an -infinite tenderness, rested on his like a caress. - -"It's as though I had made a declaration," he thought. "I must be mad. -But how can one avoid phrases which people go and take as premeditated -allusions?" - -However, he found the game amusing. It was possible in this way to -speak in public and to give utterance to one's real feelings under -cover of the commonplaces of conversation. Rose had given him the -example; he had followed her without thinking, but this docility was a -serious symptom. - -"I am lost. Here I am in process of falling in love." - -But like those drunkards who, feeling the moment of intoxication at -hand, desire to control themselves, but must still obey their cravings -because they have been so far weakened by the very sensation that now -awakens them to a consciousness of their state, M. Hervart, while -deciding that he ought to struggle, yielded. - -He drank off a whole glass of wine and said: - -"It is easy to make a mistake at one's first entry into life, and to go -on making it long after. I am still very fond of art, but I was never -meant to do more than pay her visits. We are friends, not a married -couple. I have built my house on other foundations; it may be worth -much or little, but I live in it faithfully. One can only stick to what -one loves. To keep a treasure, you must have found it first." - -He had spoken with passion. - -"What eloquence!" said M. Des Boys. - -All of a sudden, Rose began to laugh, a laugh so happy, so full of -gratitude, that M. Hervart could make no mistake about its meaning. - -"You're being laughed at, my poor friend," M. Des Boys went on. - -At this mistake, Rose's laughter redoubled. It became gay, childish, -uncontrollable. - -"This is something," said Mme. Des Boys, "which will console you, I -hope. But what a little demon my daughter is!" - -Out of pity for her mother, Rose made an effort to restrain herself. -She succeeded after two or three renewed spasms and said, addressing -herself to M. Hervart: - -"What do you think of the little demon? Are you afraid?" - -"More than you think." - -"So am I; I'm afraid of myself." - -"That's a sensible remark," said Mme. Des Boys. "Come now, behave." - -The home-made cake being approved of, she began giving the recipe. -A meal rarely passed without Mme. Des Boys' revealing some culinary -mystery. - -The carriage drove past the windows, and lunch ended almost without -further conversation. Rose had become dreamy. M. Hervart's conclusion -was: - -"Our affair has made the most terrifying progress in these few -seconds." - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -He went on with his meditations in the little wagonette which carried -them to Couville station. Rose was sitting opposite; their feet, -naturally, came into contact. - -M. Des Boys, who owned several farms, stopped to examine the state of -the crops. In some of the fields the corn had been beaten down. He got -up on the box beside the driver to ask him whether it was the same -throughout the whole district. He was very disquieted. - -M. Hervart stretched out his legs, so that he held the girl's knees -between his own. She smiled. M. Hervart, a little oppressed by his -emotions, dared not speak. He took her hand and kissed it. - -All of a sudden, Rose exclaimed: "We have forgotten the microscope!" - -"So we have! our pretext. What will become of us?" - -"But do we need a pretext, now?" - -M. Hervart renewed the pressure of his prisoning knees. That was his -first answer. - -"We're conspirators, Rose," he then said. "It's serious." - -"I hope so." - -"We have been conspirators for a long time." - -"Since this morning, yes." - -She blushed a little. - -"From that moment," M. Hervart went on, "when you said, 'One must -believe.'" - -"I said what I thought." - -"It's what I think too." - -"In this way," he said to himself, "I say what I ought to say without -going too far. 'Oh, if only I dared!" - -Meanwhile, he was disturbed by the thought of the microscope. - -"I shall buy one," he said, "and leave it with you. It will be of use -to me when I come again." - -"Stop," said Rose; her voice was low, but its tone was violent. "When -you talk of coming again, you're talking of going away." - -M. Hervart had nothing to answer. He got out of the difficulty by -renewing the pressure of his legs. - -They reached the little lonely station. The train came in, and a -quarter of an hour later they were in Cherbourg. - -M. Des Boys at once announced his intention of going to see the museum. -He wanted to look at a few masterpieces, he said, so that he might -once more compare his own art with that of the great men. M. Hervart -protested. For him, a holiday consisted in getting away from museums. -Furthermore, he regarded this particular collection, with its list of -great names, as being in large part apocryphal. - -"If the catalogue of the Louvre is false, as it is, what must the -catalogue of the Cherbourg museum be like?" he asked. - -M. Des Boys shrugged his shoulders: - -"You have lost my esteem." - -And he affirmed the perfect authenticity of the Van Dycks, Van Eycks, -Chardins, Poussins, Murillos, Jordaenses, Ribeiras, Fra Angelicos, -Cranachs, Pourbuses and Leonardos which adorned the town hall. - -"There's no Raphael," said M. Hervart, "and there ought to be a -Velasquez and a Titian and a Correggio." - -M. Des Boys replied sarcastically: - -"There's a Natural History museum." - -And with a wave of the hand, he disappeared round the corner of a -street. - -One would think everything in this dreary maritime city had been -arranged to disguise the fact that the sea is there. The houses turn -their backs on it, and a desert of stones and dust and wind lies -between the shores and the town. To discover that Cherbourg is really a -seaport, one must climb to the top of the Roule rock. M. Hervart had a -desire to scale this pinnacle. - -"It's a waste of time," said Rose; "let's go up the tower in the Liais -gardens." - -Side by side, they walked through the dismal streets. Rose kept on -looking at M. Hervart; she was disquieted by his silence. She took his -arm. - -"I didn't dare offer it to you," he said. - -"That's why I took it myself." - -"I do enjoy walking with you like this, Rose." - -But as a matter of fact he was most embarrassed. This privilege was at -once too innocent and too free. He wondered what he should do to keep -it within its present bounds. - -"If this is going on.... And to think it only started this morning...." - -He reassured himself by this most logical piece of reasoning: - -"Either I do or I don't want to marry her; in either case I shall -have to respect her.... That's evident. Being neither a fool nor a -blackguard, I have nothing to fear from myself. The civilised instinct; -I'm very civilised...." - -They were lightly clad. As he held her arm, he could feel its warmth -burning into his flesh. - -"Distressing fact! in love you can never be sure of anything or -anybody, least of all of yourself. I'm helpless in the hands of desire. -And then, at the same time as my own, I must calm down this child's -over-exited nerves. Nerves? No, feelings. Feelings lead anywhere.... -What a fool I am, making mental sermons like this! I'm spoiling -delicious moments." - -A house like all the others, a carriage door, a vaulted passage--and -behold, you were in a great garden, where the brilliance and scent -of exotic flowers burst from among the palm-trees, more intoxicating -to their senses than the familiar scents and colours of the copse at -Robinvast. Within the high walls of this strange oasis, the air hung -motionless, heavy and feverish. The flowers breathed forth an almost -carnal odour. - -"What a place to make love in," thought M. Hervart. - -He forgot all about Rose; his imagination called up the thought of -Gratienne and her voluptuousness. He shut out the sun, lit up the place -with dim far away lamps, spread scarlet cushions on the grass where a -magnolia had let fall one of its fabulous flowers, and on them fancied -his mistress.... He knelt beside her, bent over her beauty, covering it -with kisses and adoration. - -"This garden's making me mad," said M. Hervart aloud. The dream was -scattered. - -"Here's the tower," said Rose. "Let's go up. It will be cool on top." - -She too was breathing heavily, but from uneasiness, not from passion. -It was cool within the tower. In a few moments Rose, now freed from -her sense of sense of oppression, was at the top. She had quite well -realised that M. Hervart, absorbed in some dream of his own, had been -far away from her all the last part of their walk. Rose was annoyed, -and the appearance of M. Hervart, rather red in the face and with eyes -that were still wild, was not calculated to calm her. She felt jealous -and would have liked to destroy the object of his thought. - -M. Hervart noticed the little movement of irritation, which Rose had -been unable to repress, and he was pleased. He would have liked to be -alone. - -He went and and leaned on the balustrade and, without speaking, looked -far out over the blue sea. Seeing him once more absorbed by something -which was not herself, Rose was torn by another pang of jealousy; -but this time she knew her rival. Women have no doubts about one -another, which is what always ensures them the victory, but Rose now -pitted herself against the charm of the infinite sea. She took up her -position, very close to M. Hervart, shoulder to shoulder with him. - -M. Hervart looked at Rose and stopped looking at the sea. - -His eyes were melancholy at having seen the ironic flight of desire. -Rose's were full of smiles. - -"They are the colour of the infinite sea, Rose." - -"It's quite pleasant," thought M. Hervart, "to be the first man to say -that to a young girl.... In the ordinary way, women with blue eyes hear -that compliment for the hundredth time, and it makes them think that -all men are alike and all stupid.... It's men who have made love so -insipid.... Rose's eyes are pretty, but I ought not to have said so.... -Am I the first?..." - -M. Hervart felt the prick, ill defined as yet, of jealousy. - -"Who can have taught her these little physical complaisances? She -has no girl friends; it must have been some enterprising young -cousin.... What a fool I am, torturing myself! Rose has had girl -friends, at Valognes at the convent. She has them still, she writes -to them.... And besides, what do I care? I'm not in love; it's all -nothing more than a series of light sensations, a pretext for amusing -observations...." - -The afternoon was drawing on. They had to think of the commissions -which Mme. Des Boys had given them.... It was time to go down. - -"How dark the staircase is," said Rose. "Give me your hand." - -At the bottom, as though to thank him for his help, she offered her -cheek. His kiss settled on the corner of her mouth. Rose recoiled, -warned of danger by this new sensation that was too intimate, too -intense. But in the process of moving away, she came near to falling. -Her hands clutched at his, and she found herself once more leaning -towards M. Hervart. They looked at one another for a moment. Rose shut -her eyes and waited for a renewal of the burning touch. - -"I hope you haven't hurt yourself." - -She burst out laughing. - -"That," said M. Hervart to himself, "is what is called being -self-controlled. And then she laughs at me for it. Such are the fruits -of virtue." - -They went into almost all the shops in the Rue Fontaine, which is the -centre of this big outlandish village. M. Hervart bought some picture -post-cards. The castles in the Hague district are almost as fine and as -picturesque as those on the banks of the Loire. He would have liked to -send the picture of them to Gratienne, but he felt himself to be Rose's -prisoner. For a moment, that put him in a bad temper. Then, as Rose was -entering a draper's shop, he made up his mind; the post office was next -door. - -"I should like your advice," said Rose. "I have got to match some -wools." - -But he had gone. She waited patiently. - -The castles were at last dropped into the box and they continued their -course. The walk finished up at the confectioner's. - -One of Mr. Hervart's pleasures was eating cakes at a pastry cook's, and -the pleasure was complete when a woman was with him. He was a regular -customer at the shop in the Rue du Louvre, at the corner of the -square; he went there every day and not always alone. - -Entering the shop with Rose, he imagined himself in Paris, enjoying a -little flirtation, and the thought amused him. Rose was as happy as he. -Smiling and serious, she looked as though she were accomplishing some -familiar rite. - -"She would soon make a Parisian," M. Hervart thought, as he looked at -her. - -And in an instant of time, he saw a whole future unfolding before him. -They would live in the Quai Voltaire; she would often start out with -him in the mornings on her way to the Louvre stores. He would take her -as far as the arcades. She would come and pick him up for luncheon. On -other days, she would come into his office at four o'clock and they -would go and eat cakes and drink a glass of iced water; and then they -would walk slowly back by the Pont Neuf and the Quays; on the way they -would buy some queer old book and look at the play of the sunlight on -the water and in the trees. Sometimes they would take the steamer or -the train and go to some wood, not so wild as the Robinvast wood, but -pleasant enough, where Rose could breathe an air almost as pure as the -air of her native place.... - -There was not much imagination in this dream of M. Hervart's, for he -had often realised it in the past. But the introduction of Rose made of -it something quite new, a pleasure hitherto unfelt. - -"By the end of my stay I shall be madly in love with her and very -unhappy," he said to himself at last. - -A little while later they met M. Des Boys, who was looking for them. -While they were waiting at the station for the train, M. Hervart -examined his duplicate post-cards of the castles. - -"Why shouldn't we go and look at them?" said Rose, glancing at her -father. - -He acquiesced: - -"It will give me some ideas for the restoration of Robinvast, which I -think of carrying out." - -All that he meant to do was simply to set the place in order. He -would have the mortar repointed without touching the ivy, and while -preserving the wildness of the park and wood, he would have paths and -alleys made. - -"Art," he said sententiously, "admits only of a certain kind of -disorder. Besides, I have to think of public opinion; the disorder of -my garden will make people think that I am letting my daughter grow up -in the same way...." - -There was, in these words, a hint of marriage plans. Rose perceived it -at once. - -"I'm quite all right as I am," she said, "and so is Robinvast." - -"Vain little creature!" - -"Don't you agree with me?" said Rose, turning to M. Hervart with a -laugh that palliated the boldness of her question. - -"About yourself, most certainly." - -"Oh, there's nothing more to be done with me. The harm's done already; -I'm a savage. I'm thinking of the wildness of Robinvast; I like it and -it suits my wildness." - -"All the same," said M. Hervart, whose hands were covered with -scratches, "there are a lot of brambles in the wood. I've never seen -such fine ones, shoots like tropical creepers, like huge snakes...." - -"I never scratch myself," said Rose. - -But it was not without a feeling of satisfaction that she looked at M. -Hervart's hands, which were scarred with picking blackberries for her. -She whispered to him: - -"I'm as cruel as the brambles." - -"Defend yourself as well as they do," M. Hervart replied. - -It had been only a chance word. No doubt, M. Des Boys thought of -marrying his daughter, but the project was still distant. No suitor -threatened. M. Hervart was pleased with this state of affairs; for, -having fallen in love at ten in the morning, he was thinking now, at -seven, of marrying this nervous and sentimental child who had offered -the corner of her mouth to his clumsy kiss. - -The evenings at Robinvast were regularly spent in playing cards. -Trained from her earliest youth to participate in this occupation, -Rose played whist with conviction. She managed the whole game, scolded -her mother, argued about points with her father and kept M. Hervart -fascinated under the gaze of her gentle eyes. - -As soon as he sat down at the card table, he was conscious of this -fascination, which, up till then, had worked on him without his -knowledge. He remembered now that each time a chance had brought him -face to face with Rose, he had felt himself intoxicated by a great -pleasure. It was a kind of possession; spectators feel the same at the -theatre, when they see the actress of their dreams. He reflected too -that his own pleasure, almost unconscious though it had been, must have -expressed itself by fervent looks.... - -"Her heart responded little by little to the mysterious passion of my -eyes.... I have nice eyes too, I know; they are my best feature.... My -pleasure is easily explained; full face, Rose is quite divine, though -her profile is rather hard. Her nose, which is a little long, looks all -right from the front; her face is a perfect oval; her smile seems to be -the natural movement of her rather wide mouth, and her eyes come out in -the lamplight from their deep setting, like flowers.... I have often -stood in the same ecstasy before my lovely Titian Venus; it's true -that she displays other beauties as well, but her face and her eyes are -above all exquisite...." - -"Don't make signs at one another!" - -This observation, which had followed a too obvious exchange of smiles, -amused Rose enormously; for she had been thinking very little of the -game at the moment. She bowed her head innocently under the paternal -rebuke. - -They played extremely badly and lost a great number of points. - -At the change of partners they were separated; but separation united -them the better, for their knees soon came together under the table. -The game, under these conditions, became delicious. Rose did her -best to beat her lover and at the same time, delighting in the sense -of contrast, caressed him under the table. Life seemed to her very -delightful. - -She was a little feverish and it was late before she went to sleep, to -dream of this wonderful day when she had so joyously reached the summit -of her desires. She was loved; that was happiness. She did not for a -moment think of wondering whether she were herself in love. She had no -doubts on the state of her heart. - -M. Hervart's reflections were somewhat different. They also were -extremely confused. Women live entirely in the present; men much more -in the future--a sign, it may be, that there nature is not so well -organised. M. Hervart was making plans. He went to sleep in the midst -of his scheming, exhausted by his to make so much as one plan that -should be tenable. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -When he came down fairly early next morning, he found M. Des Boys, who -was usually invisible till lunch time, walking in the garden with his -daughter. He was gesticulating, largely. M. Hervart was alarmed. - -But they were not talking of him. M. Des Boys was planning a long -winding alley and was showing Rose how it would run. After consulting -M. Hervart, who was all eagerness in agreeing, he decided that they -should start their tour of the castles that very day. - -At the same time he sent for workmen to come the next day and wrote to -Lanfranc, the architect of Martinvast, a friend of whom he had lost -sight for a good many years. Lanfranc lived at St. Lo, where he acted -as clerk of the works to the local authorities. M. Hervart was also -acquainted with him. - -Meanwhile, M. Des Boys forgot his painting and stayed in the garden -nearly the whole morning. Rose was annoyed. She had counted on -repeating their yesterday's walk among the hollies and brambles, among -the foxgloves and through the bracken. She dreamed of how she would -take this walk every day of her life, believing that she would find it -eternally the same, as moving and as novel. - -M. Hervart, though he was grateful for this diversion, could not help -feeling certain regrets. He missed Rose's hand within his own. - -For a moment, as they were walking along the terrace, they found -themselves alone, at the very spot where the crisis had begun. - -Quickly, they took one another's hands and Rose offered her cheek. M. -Hervart made no attempt, on this occasion, to obtain a better kiss. It -was not the occasion. Perhaps he did not even think of it. Rose was -disappointed. M. Hervart noticed it and lifted the girl's hands to his -lips. He loved this caress, having a special cult for hands. He gave -utterance to his secret thought, saying: - -"How is it that I never yet kissed your hands?" - -Pleased, without being moved, Rose confined herself to smiling. Then, -suddenly, as an idea flashed through her mind, the smile broke into a -laugh, which, for all its violence, seemed somehow tinged with shyness. -Grown calmer, she asked. - -"I'd like to know ... to know.... I'd like to know your name." - -M. Hervart was nonplussed. - -"My name? But ... Ah, I see ... the other one." - -He hesitated. This name, the sound of which he had hardly heard since -his mother's death, was so unfamiliar to him that he felt a certain -embarrassment at uttering it. He signed himself simply "Hervart." All -his friends railed him by this name, for none had known him in the -intimacy of the family; even his mistresses had never murmured any -other. Besides, women prefer to make use of appellations suitable -to every one in general, such as "wolf," or "pussy-cat," or "white -rabbit"--M. Hervart, who was thin, had been generally called "wolf." - -"Xavier," he said at last. Rose seemed satisfied. - -She began eating blackberries as she had done the day before. M. -Hervart--just as he had done yesterday, opened his magnifying glass; -he counted the black spots on the back of a lady-bird, _coccinella -septempunctata_; there were only six. - -In the palm of her little hand, well smeared already with purple, Rose -placed a fine blackberry and held it out to M. Hervart. As he did not -lift his head, but still sat there, one eye shut, the other absorbed in -what he was looking at, she said gently, in a voice without affection, -a voice that was deliciously natural: - -"Xavier!" - -M. Hervart felt an intense emotion. He looked at Rose with surprised -and troubled eyes. She was still holding out her hand. He ate the -blackberry in a kiss and then repeated several times in succession, -"Rose, Rose...." - -"How pale you are!" she said equally moved. - -She stepped back, leant against the wall. M. Hervart took a step -forward. They were standing now, looking into one another's eyes. Very -serious, Rose waited. M. Hervart said: - -"Rose, I love you." - -She hid her face in her hands. M. Hervart dared not speak or move. He -looked at the hands that hid Rose's face. - -When she uncovered her face, it was grave and her eyes were wet. She -said nothing, but went off and picked a blackberry as though nothing -had happened. But instead of eating it, she threw it aside and, instead -of coming back to M. Hervart, she walked away. - -M. Hervart felt chilled. He stood looking at her sadly, as she smoothed -the folds of her dress and set her hat straight. - -When she reached the corner by the lilac bushes, Rose stopped, turned -round and blew a kiss, then, taking flight, she disappeared in the -direction of the house. - -The scene had lasted two or three minutes; but in that little space, M. -Hervart had lived a great deal. It had been the most moving instant of -his life; at least he could not remember having known one like it. At -the sound of that name, Xavier, almost blotted from his memory, a host -of charming moments from the past had entered his heart; he thought -of his mother's love, of his first declaration, his first caresses. -He found himself once more at the outset of life and as incapable of -mournful thoughts as at twenty. - -His whole manner suddenly changed. He hoisted himself on to the terrace -and, sitting on the edge in the dry grass, lit a cigarette and looked -at the world without thinking of anything at all. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -Their rapid intimacy did not leave off growing during the following -days. M. Des Boys never left the workmen who were making the new paths -and from moment to moment he would call his daughter or M. Hervart, -soliciting their approval. - -In the afternoons they would go and look at one of the castles in the -neighbourhood. - -They saw Martinvast, towers, chapel, Gothic arches, ingeniously adapted -so as to cover, without spoiling their lines, the flimsy luxury of -modern times. Tourlaville, though less old, looked more decayed under -its cloak of ivy. M. Hervart admired the great octagonal tower, the -bold lines of the inward-curving roofs. They saw Pepinbast, a thing of -lace-work and turrets, florid with trefoils and pinnacles. They saw -Chiflevast, a Janus, Gothic on one side and Louis XIV on the other. - -Nacqueville is old in parts; the main block seems to be contemporary -with Richelieu; as a whole, it is imposing, a building to which each -generation has added its own life without hiding the distant origins. - -Vast, which looks quite modern, occupies a pleasing site by the falls -of the Saire. It seemed more human than the others, whose hugeness and -splendour they had admired without a wish to possess. Here one could -give play to one's desire. - -"All the same," said M. Hervart, "it looks too much like a big cottage." - -M. Des Boys resolved to have a cascade at Robinvast. It was a pity that -he had nothing better than a stream at his disposal. - -They returned by La Pernelle, from which one can see all the eastern -part of the Hague, from Gatteville to St. Marcouf, a great sheet of -emerald green, bordered, far away by a ribbon of blue sea. - -They made a halt. Rose picked some heather, with which she filled M. -Hervart's arms. The eagerness of the air lit up her eyes, fired her -cheeks. - -"Isn't it lovely, my country?" - -A cloud hid the sun. Colour paled away from the scene; a shadow walked -across the sea, quenching its brilliance; but southward, towards the -isles of St. Marcouf, it was still bright. - -"A sad thought crossing the brow of the sea," said M. Hervart. "But -look...." - -Everything had suddenly lit up once again. - -Rose blew kisses into space. - -They had to go back towards St. Vast, where they had hired the -carriage. Thence, traveling by the little railway which follows the sea -for a space before it turns inland under the apple trees, they arrived -at Valognes. - -They dined at the St. Michel hotel. M. Des Boys was bored; he had begun -to find the excursion rather too long. But there were still a lot of -fine buildings to be looked at, Fontenay, Flamanville.... However, -those didn't mean such long journeys. - -"We have still got to go," said he, "to Barnavast, Richemont, the -Hermitage and Pannelier. That can be done in one afternoon." - -They did not get back to Robinvast till very late. The darkness in the -carriage gave M. Hervart his opportunity; his leg came into contact -with Rose's; under pretext of steadying the bundle of heather which -Rose was balancing on her knee, their hands met for an instant. - -Mme. Des Boys was waiting for them, rather anxiously. She kissed her -daughter almost frenziedly. Enervated, Rose burst out laughing, said -she wanted something to drink and, having drunk expressed a wish for -food. - -"That's it," said M. Hervart. "Let's have supper." - -He checked himself: - -"I was only joking; I'm not in the least hungry." - -But Rose found the idea amusing; she went in search of food, bringing -into the drawing-room every kind of object, down to a bottle of -sparkling cider she had discovered in a cupboard. - -"Hervart's a boy of twenty-five," said M. Des Boys as he watched his -friend helping Rose in her preparations. "I shall go to bed." - -"At twenty-five," said Hervart, "one doesn't know what to do with -one's life. One has all the trumps in one's hand, but one plays one's -cards haphazard, and one loses." - -"Does he talk of playing now?" said M. Des Boys, who was half asleep. -Rose burst out laughing. - -"Are you really going to bed?" asked Mme. Des Boys; she looked tired. -"I suppose I must stay here." - -But she was soon bored. It was half past twelve. She tried to get her -daughter to come. - -"Ten minutes more, mother." - -"All right, I'll leave you. I shall expect you in ten minutes." - -M. Hervart got up. - -"I give you ten minutes. Be indulgent with the child. All this fresh -air has gone to her head." - -M. Hervart felt embarrassed. A week ago such a _tete-a-tete_ would have -seemed the most innocent and perhaps, too, the most tedious of things. - -"I really don't know what may happen. I must be serious, cold; I must -try and look tired and antique...." - -As soon as she heard her mother's footsteps in the room above the -drawing-room, Rose came and sat down close to M. Hervart, put her hands -on the arm of his chair. He looked at her, and there was something of -madness in his eyes. He turned completely and laid his hands upon the -girl's hands. They moved, took his and pressed them, gently. Then, -without having had the time to think of what they were doing, they -woke up a second later mouth against mouth. This kiss exhausted their -emotion. With the same instinctive movement both drew back, but they -went on looking at one another. - -Decidedly, she was very pretty. She, for part, found him admirable, -thinking: - -"I belong to him. I have given him my lips. I am his. What will he do? -What shall I do?..." - -That was just what M. Hervart was wondering--what ought he to do? - -"What caresses are possible, what won't she object to? I should like -to kiss her lips again.... Her eyes? Her neck? Which of the Italian -poets was it who said: 'Kiss the arms, the neck, the breasts of your -beloved, they will not give you back your kisses. The lips alone,' But -I shall have to say something. Of course, I ought to say: 'Je vous -aime.' But I don't love her. If I did, I should have said: 'Je t'aime!' -and I should have said it without thinking, without knowing. - -"Rose, I love you." - -She shut her eyes, laid her head on the arm of the chair; for she was -sitting on a low stool. - -It was the ear that presented itself. M. Hervart kissed her ear slowly, -savouring it, kiss by kiss, like an epicure over some choice shell-fish. - -"She lets me do what I like. It's amusing...." - -He kissed his way round her ear and halted next to the eye, which was -shut. - -"How soft her eyelid is!" - -His lips travelled down her nose and settled at the corner of her -mouth. Tickled by their touch, she smiled. - -When he had thoroughly kissed the right side, she offered him the left; -then, giving her lips to him frankly, she received his kiss, returned -it with all her heart, and got up. - -She smiled without any embarrassment. She was happy and very little -disturbed. - -"There," she said to herself. "Now I'm married." - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -The paths were now visible. One of them, in front of the house, made -an oval round a lawn, which looked, at the moment, like a patch of -weeds, with all sorts of flowers in the uneven grass--buttercups, -moon-daisies, cranes-bill and centaury; there were rushes, too, and -nettles, hemlock and plants of lingwort that looked like long thin -girls in white hats. - -Encoignard, the gardener from Valognes, was contemplating this wildness -with a melancholy eye: - -"It will have to be ploughed, M. Des Boys, or at least well hoed. Then -we'll sift the earth we've broken up, level it down and sow ray-grass. -In two years it will be like a carpet of green velvet." - -Eyeing the landscape, he went on: - -"Lime trees! You ought to have a segoya here and over there an -araucaria. And what's that? An apple-tree. That's quite wrong. We'll -have that up and put a magnolia grandiflora there. You want an English -garden, don't you? An English garden oughtn't to contain anything but -exotic plants. Lilacs and roses.... Why not snow-ball trees? Ah, -there's a nice spotted holly. We might use that perhaps." - -"I don't want anyone to touch my trees," said Rose, who had drawn near. - -"She's right," said M. Des Boys. - -"Think of pulling up lilacs," Rose went on, "pulling up rose-trees." - -"But I mean to put prettier flowers in their place, Mademoiselle." - -"The prettiest flowers are the ones I like best." - -She picked a red rose and put it to her lips, kissing it as though it -were something sacred and adored. - -M. Des Boys looked at his daughter with astonishment. - -"Well, M. Encoignard, we must do what she wants. Hervart, what do you -think about it?" - -"I think that one ought to leave nature as unkempt as possible. I -also think that one ought to love the plants of the country where -one lives. They are the only ones that harmonise with the sky and the -crops, with the colour of the rivers and roads and roofs." - -"Quite right," said M. Des Boys. - -"Xavier, I love you," Rose whispered, taking M. Hervart's arm. - -The inspection of the garden was continued, and it was decided that M. -Encoignard's collaboration should be reduced to the ordinary functions -of a plain docile gardener. One or two new plants were admitted on -condition that the old should be respected. - -M. Hervart had got up early and had been strolling about the garden -for some time past. He had spent half the night in thought. All the -women he had loved or known had visited his memory with their customary -gestures and the attitudes they affected. There was that other one who -seemed always to have come merely to pay a friendly call; it needed -real diplomacy to obtain from her what, at the bottom of her heart, she -really desired. Between these two extremes there were many gradations. -Most of them liked to give themselves little by little, playing their -desire against their sense of shame M. Hervart flattered himself that -he knew all about women; he knew that who let herself be touched will -let herself be wholly possessed. - -"A woman," he said to himself, "who has been as familiar as Rose has -been, or even much less familiar, ought to be one who has surrendered -herself. Perhaps she might make me wait a few days more, but she would -belong to me, she would let her eyes confess it and her lips would -speak it out. Such a woman would even be disposed to hasten the coming -of the delightful moment, if I had not the wit to prepare it myself. -Rose, being a young girl and having only the dimmest presentiments of -the truth, does not know how to hasten our happiness; otherwise she -most certainly would hasten it. She belongs, then, to me. The question -to be answered is this: shall I go on smelling the rose on the tree, or -shall I pluck it?" - -The poetical quality of this metaphor seemed to him perhaps a little -flabby. He began to speak to himself, without actually articulating -the words, even in a whisper, in more precise terms. - -"Well, then, if I take her, I shall keep her. I have never thought of -marrying, but it's no good going against the current of one's life. It -may be happiness. Shall I lay up this regret for my old age: happiness -passed dose to me, smiling to my desire, and my eyes remained dull and -my mouth dumb? Happiness? Is it certain? Happiness is always uncertain. -Unhappiness too. And the fusing of these two elements makes a dull -insipid mixture." - -This commonplace idea occupied him for a while. Every joy is transient, -and when it has passed one finds oneself numb and neutral once again. - -"Neutral, or below neutral? A woman of this temperament? I can still -tame her? Yes, but what will happen ten years hence, when she is -thirty? Ah, well, till then...!" - -M. Des Boys carried off Encoignard into his study. Left alone, Rose and -M. Hervart had soon vanished behind the trees and shrubberies, had soon -crossed the stream. They almost ran. - -"Here we are at home," said Rose and, very calmly, she offered her lips -to M. Hervart. - -"She's positively conjugal already," thought M. Hervart. - -Nevertheless, this kiss disturbed his equanimity--the more so since -Rose, in gratitude no doubt to M. Hervart for his defence of her old -garden, kept her mouth a long time pressed to his. She was growing -breathless and her breasts rose under her thin white blouse. M. Hervart -was tempted to touch them. He made bold, and his gesture was received -without indignation. They looked at one another anxious to speak but -finding no words. Their mouths came together once more. M. Hervart -pressed Rose's breast, and a small hand squeezed his other hand. It -was a perilous moment. Realising this, M. Hervart tried to put an end -to the contact. But the little hand squeezed his own more tightly and -in a convulsive movement her knee came into contact with his leg. The -tension was broken. Their hands were loosened, they drew away from one -another, and for the first time after a kiss, Rose shut her eyes. - -M. Hervart felt a pain in the back of his neck. - -He began thinking of that season of Platonic love he had once passed -at Versailles with a virtuous woman, and he was frightened; for that -passion of light kisses and hand-pressures had undermined him as more -violent excesses had never done. - -"What will become of me?" he thought. "This is a case of acute -Platonism, marked by the most decisive symptoms. All or nothing! -Otherwise I am a dead man." - -He looked at Rose, meaning to put on a chilly expression; but those -eyes of her looked back at him so sweetly! - -His thoughts became confused. He felt a desire to lie down in the grass -and sleep, and he said so. - -"All right, lie down and sleep. I'll watch over you and keep the flies -away from your eyes and mouth. I'll fan you with this fern." - -She spoke in a voice that was caressingly passionate. It was like -music. M. Hervart woke up and uttered words of love. - -"I love you, Rose. The touch of your lips has refreshed my blood and -brought joy to my heart. When I first touched you, it was as though I -were clasping a treasure without price. But tell me, my darling, you -won't take back this treasure now you have given it?" - -M. Hervart was breathing heavily. Rose shook her head and said, "No, I -won't take it back;" and to prove that she meant it she leaned towards -him, as though offering her bosom; M. Hervart lightly touched the stuff -of her blouse with his lips. - -Seeing her lover's lack of alacrity, Rose, without suspecting the -mystery, at least guessed that there was a mystery. - -"No doubt," she thought, "love needs a rest every now and then. We will -go for a little walk and I'll talk to him of flowers and insects. We -should do well, perhaps, to go back to the garden, for it would be very -annoying if they took it into their heads to come and look for us." They -got up and walked round the wood meaning to go straight back to the -house. - -M. Hervart seemed to be in an absent-minded mood. He was holding Rose's -hand in his, but he forgot to squeeze it. His thoughts were, none the -less, thoughts of love. He looked about him as though he were searching -for something. - -"What are you looking for? Tell me; I'll look too." - -M. Hervart was looking for a nook. He inspected the dry leaves, peeped -into every nook and bower of the wood. But he felt ashamed of his quest. - -"Yet," he thought, "I must. I love her and these innocent amusements -are really too pernicious. Shall I go away? That would be to condemn -myself to a melancholy solitude, with, perhaps, bitter consolations. -Marry her, then? Certainly, but it can't come off to-morrow, and we are -too much aquiver with desire to wait patiently. And suppose, when we -are engaged, we have to submit ourselves to the law of the traditional -sentimentality.... No, let us be peasants, children of this kindly -earth. Let us, like them, make love first, at haphazard, where the -paths of the wood lead us; then, when we are certain of the consent of -our flesh, we will call our fellow men to witness." - -He went on looking and found what he wanted, but when he had found, he -started searching again, for he was ashamed of himself. - -"Perhaps," he thought, answering his own objections, "one may have to -behave like a cad in order to be happy. What, shall I submit myself -to the prejudices of the world at the moment when life offers to my -kisses a virgin who is unaware of them? I will have the courage of my -caddishness." - -Time passed and his eyes examined the heaps of leaves with decreasing -interest. His imagination returned pleasantly to the joys of a little -before, and he longed to be able to lay his trembling hand once more on -Rose's breast and to drink her breath in a kiss. - -M. Hervart was recovering all his self-possession. He concluded: - -"Well, it's very curious adventure and one that will increase the sum -of my knowledge and of my pleasures." - -Rose, feeling the pressure of his fingers, had the courage, at last, to -look at him. He smiled and she was reassured. - -"You won't leave me, will you?" she said. "Promise. When we are -married well live wherever you like, but till then, I want you near me, -in my house, in my garden, my woods, my fields. Do you understand?" - -"Child, I love you and I understand that you love me too." - -"Why 'too'? I loved you first; I don't like that word; it expresses a -kind of imitation." - -"It's true," said M. Hervart. "We fell in love simultaneously. But the -convention is that the man falls in love first and the woman does no -more than consent to his desires." - -"What can you want that I don't want myself?" - -"Delicious innocence!" thought M. Hervart. - -He went on: - -"But perhaps I want still more intimacy, complete surrender, Rose." - -"But am I not entirely yours? I want you in exchange, though, Xavier, I -want you, all of you." - -M. Hervart did not know what to say. He became quite shy. This charming -ingenuousness troubled his imagination more than the images of pleasure -itself. - -"She doesn't know," he thought. "She hasn't even dreamed of it. What -chastity and grace!" - -He answered: - -"I belong to you, Rose, with all my heart...." - -"What were you thinking of a moment ago? You seemed far away." - -"I was just feeling happy." - -"You must have had such a lot of happinesses since you began life, -Xavier. You have given happiness, received it...." - -"I have just lived," said M. Hervart. - -"Yes, and I'm only a girl of twenty." - -"Think of being twenty!" - -"If you were twenty, I shouldn't love you." - -M. Hervart answered only by a smile which he tried to make as young, as -delicate as possible. He knew what he would have liked to say, but he -felt that he could not say it. Besides, he wondered whether Rose and he -were really speaking the same language. - -"This conversation is really absurd. I tell her that I want her to -surrender herself to me, and she answers--at least I suppose that's -what she means--that she has given me her heart. Obviously, she has no -idea of what might happen between us.... What do these little caresses -mean to her? They're just marks of affection.... All the same there -was surely desire in her movements, her kisses, her eyes. And her body -trembled at the urgent touch of my lips. Yes, she knows what love is. -How ridiculous! All the same, if we go to work cleverly...." - -"You mustn't believe, Rose," he said out loud, "that I have ever yet -had occasion to give my heart. That doesn't always happen in the course -of a life; and when it does happen, it happens only once.... A man has -plenty of adventures in which his will is not concerned.... Man is an -animal as well as a man...." - -"And what about women?" - -"The best people agree," said M. Hervart, "that woman is an angel." - -Rose burst out laughing at this remark, apparently very innocently, and -said: - -"I can't claim to be an angel. It wouldn't amuse me to be one, either. -Angels--why, father puts them in his pictures. No, I prefer being a -woman. Would you love an angel?" - -M. Hervart laughed too. He explained that young girls had a right to -being called angels, because of their innocence.... - -"When one is in love, is one still innocent?" - -"If one still is, one doesn't remain so long." - -They could say no more. They had come back to the stream and there -they caught sight of M. Des Boys showing his domains to two gentlemen, -one of whom seemed to be of his own age, while the other looked about -thirty. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -M. Hervart soon recognised in one of the visitors a friend of old days, -Lanfranc, the architect. The young man, as he found out, was Lanfranc's -nephew, pupil and probable successor. He was further informed that the -two architects were installed in the old manor house of Barnavast, the -restoration of which they had undertaken on behalf of Mme. Suif, widow -of that famous Suif who gave such a fine impulse to the art of mortuary -and religious sculpture. Lanfranc, who had patched and painted every -church in Normandy, had for twenty years bought his materials at Suif's -and the widow had always appreciated him. Hence this job at Barnavast -which would round off his fortune, make it possible for him to return -to Paris and achieve a place in the Institute. - -As soon as they had settled down in the shade of the chestnut trees -on the rustic seat, Lanfranc began telling the story of Mme. Suif, -a story that was well known to every one. Rose listened attentively. -The moment Lanfranc could collect a friendly audience he always told -the story of Mme. Suif. It was in some degree his own story too. Mme. -Suif had been his mistress, then he had married, then he had resumed -relations with her and had, with the cooling of their passion, remained -her friend. - -"Ah! If I hadn't been so childish as to marry for love, I would marry -Mme. Suif's millions to-day, for Mme. Suif would be grateful to any man -who would relieve her of her name. Being an architect of churches and -ancient monuments, I could hardly get divorced, could I? But of course -she may be willing to call herself Mme. Leonor Varin. For she looks at -my nephew with no unfavourable eye!" - -"Thanks, I don't want her," said Leonor, blushing. - -Rose had looked at him and he had suddenly felt quite ashamed of his -secret cupidity. - -Leonor, who was nearly thirty, looked older from a distance and -younger from close at hand. He was large, rather massive and slow -in his movements. But when one came near him one was surprised at -the sentimental expression of his eyes, surprised at the youthful -appearance of a beard that still seemed to be newly sprouting, at the -awkwardness of his gestures and, when he spoke, the abrupt shyness of -his speech; for he could hardly open his mouth without blushing. It is -true that the moment after he would frown and contract his whole face -into an expression of harshness. But the eyes remained blue and gentle -in this frowning mask. Leonor was a riddle for everybody, including -himself. He liked pondering, and when he thought of love it was to come -to the conclusion that his ideal hovered between the daydream and the -debauch, between the happiness of kissing, on bended knees, a gloved -hand and the pleasure of lying languidly in the midst of a troop of -odalisques of easy virtue. He had no suspicion that he was like almost -all other men. He was afraid of himself and contemptuous too, when he -caught himself thinking too complacently of Mme. Suif's millions, -those millions that would give immediate satisfaction to his vices and, -later on, to his sentimental aspirations. - -He looked at Rose in his turn, but Rose did not drop her eyes. -Meanwhile, M. Hervart was growing bored. - -"Mme. Suif," said Lanfranc, "is still quite well preserved. For -instance...." - -"Rose dear," interrupted M. Des Boys, "doesn't your mother want you?" - -"Oh, no, I'm sure she doesn't. Mother would only find me in the way." - -"Your father is right, Rose," said M. Hervart glad to make trial of his -authority. - -She did not dare oppose her lover's wish, but she felt angry as she -rose to go. - -"Acting like my master already!" she thought. "I should so like to -listen to M. Lanfranc...." - -She dared not add: "... and to look at this M. Leonor and be looked -at by him and still more, to hear them talk of Mme. Suif. What was he -going to say? Oh, I don't want to know!" - -She entered the house, came out again by another door and hid herself -in a shrubbery from which she could hear their voices quite clearly. - -"It's not only her shoulders," M. Lanfranc was saying, "they're not the -only things about her that tempt one. She's forty-five, but her figure -is still good and not too excessively run to flesh. As a whole she is -certainly a bit ample, but at the Art School one could still make a -very respectable Juno of her. I've seen worse on the model's throne...." - -"Time," said M. Hervart, "often shows angelical clemency. He pardons -women who have been good lovers." - -"And still are," said Lanfranc. - -"There's no better recreation than love," said Leonor. "No sport more -suited to keep one fit and supple." - -M. Hervart looked in surprise at this dim young man who had so -unexpectedly made a joke. Anxious to shine in his turn, he replied: "No -one has ever dared to put that in a manual of hygiene. What a charming -chapter one could make of it, in the style of the First Empire: 'Love, -the preserver of Beauty.'" - -"A pretty subject too for the Prix de Rome," said Lanfranc. - -"Seriously," broke in M. Des Boys, "I believe that the thing that so -quickly shrivels up virtuous women in chastity." - -"Virtuous women!" said Lanfranc, "they're mean to reproduce the -species. When they have had their children, and that must take place -between twenty and thirty, their role is finished." - -"The only thing left for them to do," said M. Des Boys, "is to concoct -philters to keep us young." - -The others looked at him interrogatively; he laughed. - -"You will see, or rather you'll taste, and you will understand. I wish -you all as good a magician as Mme. Des Boys." - -"True," said M. Hervart, understanding him at last, "she has a real -genius for cookery. Dinners of her planning are regular love-potions." - -"You'll realise that when you get back to Paris." - -"Yes, when I get back to Paris. I am taking a holiday here," said M. -Hervart, pleased at this mark of confidence. He even added, so as to -guard against possible suspicions: - -"A holiday from love is not without a certain melancholy." - -Rose had found it all very amusing, but when her father began speaking -she stopped listening. Leonor, pleased at having made a witty remark, -and afraid of not being able to think of another, had got up and was -walking about the garden. Rose looked at him. The sight of this young -animal interested her. And what curious words about love had issued -from that mouth! So love was an exercise like tennis, or bicycling, or -riding! What a revelation! And the most singular fancies took shape in -her mind as she followed with her eyes the now distant figure of this -ingenious and decisive young man. - -"How do people play the game of love," she wondered, "real love? -Xavier teaches me nothing. He knows all about it though, more probably -than this young Leonor, but he takes care not to tell me. He treats -me like a little girl, while he makes fun of my innocence. Oh! it's -gentle fun, because he loves me; but all the same he rather abuses his -superior position. A sport, a sport...." - -Quitting the shrubbery, she went and sat down on an old stone bench in -a lonely corner, from which she could keep a watch between the trees on -all that was happening in the neighbourhood. She was fond of this nook -and in it, before M. Hervart's arrival, she had spent whole mornings -dreaming alone. She laughed at the childishness of those dreams now. - -"It always seemed to me," she thought, "that the branches were just -about to open, making way for some beautiful young cavalier.... Without -saying a word, he would bring his horse to stop at my side, would lean -down, pick me up, lay me across the saddle and off we would go. Then -there was to be a mad, furious, endless gallop, and in the end I should -go to sleep. And in reality I used to wake up as though from a sleep, -even though I hadn't dropped off. Nothing happened but this dumb ride -in the blue air, and yet, when I came to myself, I felt tired.... How -often I have dreamed this dream! How often have I seen the lilac -plumes bending to make way for my lovely young knight and his black -horse! The horse was always black. I remember very little of the face -of the Perseus who delivered me, for a few hours at least, from the -bondage of my boring existence.... A sport? That was indeed a sport! -What did he do with his Andromeda, this Perseus of mine? I've never -been able to find out. What do Perseuses do with their Andromedas?" - -To this question Rose's tireless imagination provided, for the -hundredth time, a new series of answers. The imagination of a young -girl who knows and yet is ignorant of what she desires has an -Aretine-like fecundity. - -Into all these imaginations of hers Rose now introduced the complicity -of M. Hervart. Even at the moment when she was on the lookout for -Leonor's return, it was really of M. Hervart that she was thinking. -Leonor was to be nothing more than a stimulant for her heart and her -nerves, a musical accompaniment to something else. The stimulation -which the young man's arrival had brought to her went to the profit of -M. Hervart. - -"Xavier," she murmured, "Xavier...." - -Xavier, meanwhile, was congratulating himself that his paternal -intervention had spared Rose's ears the hearing of those over-frank -remarks of M. Lanfranc. The architect would of course have toned down -his language; but is it good that a young girl should learn the use -that wives make of marriage? He said: - -"M. Lanfranc, keep an eye on your language at table. Don't forget that -we have a young girl with us." - -"Yes," said M. Des Boys "I sent her away from here, but that would -hardly be possible during luncheon." - -"Girls," said Lanfranc, "understand nothing." - -"They guess," said M. Hervart. - -M. Des Boys had no opinions on maiden perspicacity, but he desired to -conform to custom and allow his daughter to listen only to the choicest -conversation. - -"Well, then," said Lanfranc, "let us profitably employ these moments -while we are alone." His lively blue eyes lit up his tanned face. - -The conversation had deviated once more in the direction of Mme. Des -Boys' administrative merits. - -"One meets so many different kinds of women," said M. Hervart. "The -best of them is never equal to the dream one makes up about them." - -"Silly commonplace," he thought. "What answer will he make to that?" - -"I don't dream," said Lanfranc, "I search. But I scarcely ever find. -Adventures have always disappointed me. That's why Paris is the only -place for love affairs. One can find plenty of pleasant romances there -with only one chapter--the last." - -"Your opinion of women ceases to astonish me then!" - -"His opinion is very reasonable," said M. Des Boys. "You talk as though -you were still twenty-five, Hervart." - -He reddened a little. - -"Me! Oh no, thank God! I'm forty." - -And seeing the appropriateness of the occasion, he added: - -"You're jealous of my liberty, but I am becoming afraid that I may lose -it." - -"Are you thinking of marriage?" asked Lanfranc. - -"Perhaps." - -"Mme. Suif would suit you very well. Leonor is being coy about her...." - -Irritated by so much vulgarity, M. Hervart got up and walked into the -garden. Rose and Leonor were strolling there together. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -Rose had laid her plans in such a fashion that the young man had -found her in his path. Not to see her was too deliberately to avoid -her. If he saw her, he had to take off his hat. And this was what -had happened. Rose had answered his salutation by a word of welcome; -conversation had then passed to the old house at Barnavast, finally to -Mme. Suif. But Leonor was discreet and vague, so much so that at one of -Rose's questions the conversation had switched off on to sentimental -commonplaces. But, for Rose, nothing in the world was commonplace yet. - -"Isn't she rather old to marry again?" she asked. - -"Ah, but Mme. Suif is one of those whose hearts are always young." - -"Then there are some hearts that grow old more slowly than others?" - -"Some never grow old at all, just as some have never been young." - -"All the same, I see a great difference, when I look around me, between -the feelings of young and old people." - -"Do you know many people?" - -"No, very few; but I have always seen a correspondence between people's -hearts and faces." - -"Certainly; but a general truth, although it may represent the average -of particular truths, is hardly ever the same as a single particular -case selected by chance...." - -Rose looked at Leonor with a mixture of admiration and shame: she did -not understand. Leonor perceived the fact and went on: - -"I mean that there are, in all things, exceptions. I also mean that -there are rules which admit of a great number of exceptions. It even -happens in life, just as in grammar, that the exceptional are more -numerous than the regular cases. Do you follow?" - -"Oh, perfectly." - -"But that," he concluded, emphasising his words, "does not prevent the -rule's being the rule, even though there were only two normal cases as -against ten exceptions." - -Rose liked this magisterial tone. M. Hervart had, for some time, done -nothing but agree with her opinions. - -"But how does one recognise the rule?" she went on. - -"Rules," said Leonor, "always satisfy the reason." - -Rose looked at him in alarm; then, pretending she had understood, made -a sign of affirmation. - -"Women never understand that very well," Leonor continued. "It doesn't -satisfy them. They yield only to their feelings. So do men, for that -matter, but they don't admit it. So that women accused of hypocrisy -and vanity have less of these vices, it may be, than men.... At any -rate the rule is the rule. The rule demands that Marguerite should give -up...." - -"Who's Marguerite?" - -"Mme. Suif." - -"Do you know her well?" - -Leonor smiled. "Am I not the nephew and lieutenant of her architect? -The rule, then, would demand that Marguerite should give up love; and -the rule further demands, Mademoiselle, that you should begin to think -of it." - -"The rule is the rule," said Rose sententiously, suppressing the shouts -of laughter that exploded silently in her heart. - -"The rule's not so stupid after all," she thought. "I don't ask -anything better than to obey it...." - -At this moment M. Hervart came face to face with them at the turn of -a path. Rose welcomed him with a happy smile, a smile of delicious -frankness. - -"Good," thought M. Hervart, "he isn't my rival yet. My role for the -moment is to act the part of the man who is sure of himself, the -man who possesses, dominates, the lord who is above all changes and -chances...." - -And he began to talk of his stay at Robinvast and of the pleasure he -found in the midst of this rich disorderly scene of nature. - -"But you," he said, "have come to put it in order. You have come -to whiten these walls, scrape off this moss and ivy, cut clearings -through these dark masses, and you will make M. Des Boys a present of a -brand-new castle with a charming and equally brand-new park." - -"Who's going to touch my ivy?" exclaimed Rose, indignantly. - -"Why should it be touched," said Leonor. "Isn't ivy the glory of the -walls of Tourlaville? Ivy--why, it's the only architectural beauty -that can't be bought. At Barnavast, which is in a state of ruin, we -always respect it when the wall can be consolidated from inside. To my -mind, restoration means giving back to a monument the appearance that -the centuries would have given it if it had been well looked after. -Restoration doesn't mean making a thing look new; it doesn't consist in -giving an old man the hair, beard, complexion and teeth of a youth; it -consists in bringing a dying man back to life and giving him the health -and beauty of his age." - -"How glad I am to hear you talk like this," said Rose. "I hope M. -Lanfranc shares your ideas." - -"M. Lanfranc is completely converted to my ideas." - -"My father will do nothing without consulting me, but I shall feel -more certain of getting my way if you are my ally." - -"I will be your ally then." - -"Yours is a sensible method," said M. Hervart. "You may know that I -am the keeper of the Greek sculpture at the Louvre. I entered that -necropolis at a time when the old system of restoration had begun to -be abandoned. They were oscillating between two methods--re-making or -doing nothing. The second has prevailed. You will have noticed that our -marbles can be divided into two groups: those which have no antiquity -but in the name, and those which have no antiquity except in the -material. In old days, when they had found a bust, they manufactured -a new head for it, new arms and new legs; then they wrote underneath: -'Artemis (restored), Minerva (restored), Nymph with a bow (restored),' -according to the fancy of the cast-maker or as they were guided by a -somnolent archaeology. I think that they certainly filled some gaps in -this way. If the system had gone on being followed, we should doubtless -be in possession at the present time of a complete Olympus; while as -it is there are plenty of empty places left in the assembly of our -gods. Since we decided to do nothing, our galleries have grown rich -in curious anatomical odds and ends--legs and hands that look like -those ex-voto offerings that used, as a matter of fact, to hang in -Greek sanctuaries; heads that look as though they had, like Orpheus's -head, been rolled by storms among the pebbles of the sea; busts so -full of holes that they seem to have served as targets for drunken -soldiers. In short nothing comes to us now but fragments--fragments -of great archaeological interest, but whose value as works of art is -almost nothing. Wouldn't some intermediate method be preferable? By -intermediate I mean intelligent. Intelligence is the art of reconciling -ideas and producing a harmony. A head of Aphrodite with a broken nose -ceases to be a head of Aphrodite. I ask for beauty and they give me a -museum specimen. If they want me to admire it, they must make a new -nose; if they don't want to make a new nose, then they must divide up -the Louvre into two museums, the aesthetic museum and the archaeological -museum." - -Having finished speaking, he looked first of all at Rose, thus showing -that he had need, before everything else, of her approbation. Rose's -face lit up with happiness. Her eyes answered, "My dear, I admire you. -You're a god." - -These movements were understood by Leonor, who had been trying for some -few moments to guess what were the relations between Rose and Hervart. - -"They are in love," he said to himself. "Hervart has a genius for -making love. I am twenty-eight, which is my only point of superiority -over him. And even that is very illusory, for it is only women who -know something about life, whether through experience or through the -confidences of some one else, who pay any attention to a man's age. A -woman is as old as her face: a man is as old as his eyes. Hervart has a -pair of fine blue eyes, gentle and lively, ardent. But what do I care? -I don't desire the good graces of this innocent." - -While reflecting thus, he had answered M. Hervart, "I quite agree with -you. People tend too much to-day to confound the curious, rare or -antique with the beautiful. The aesthetic sense has been replaced by a -feeling of respect." - -"The process was perhaps inevitable," said M. Hervart. "In any case it -suits a democracy. People have no time to learn to admire, but one can -very quickly learn to respect. The intelligence is docile, but taste is -recalcitrant." - -"But aren't there such things," Rose asked, "as spontaneous -admirations?" - -"Yes," said Leonor, "there's love." - -"Then is admiration the same as love?" - -"If they don't yet love, people come very near loving when they admire." - -"And is love admiration?" - -"Not always." - -"Love," said M. Hervart, "is compatible with almost all other feelings, -even with hatred." - -"Yes," replied Leonor, "that has the appearance of being true, for -there are many kinds of love. The love that struggles with hatred can -only be a love inspired by interest or sensuality." - -"One never knows. I hold that love, just as it is capable of taking -any shape or form, can devour all other feelings and install itself -in their place. It comes and it goes, without one's ever being able -to understand the mechanism of its movements. It lasts two hours or a -whole life.... - -"You are mixing up the different species," said Leonor. "You must, if -we are to understand one another, allow words to keep their traditional -sense with all its shades of meaning. Love is at the base of all -emotions either as a negative or positive principle; one can say that, -and when one has said it one is no forwarder. Do you think there's no -point in the way verbal usage employs the words 'passion, caprice, -inclination, taste, curiosity' and other words of the kind? It would -surely be better to create new shades, rather than set one's wits to -work to dissolve all the colours and shades of sensation and emotion -into a single hue." - -Like a village musician plunged into the midst of a discussion on -counterpoint and orchestration, Rose listened, a little disquieted, a -little irritated, but at the same time fascinated. They were speaking -of something that filled her heart and set her nerves tingling; she did -not understand, she felt. She would have liked to understand. - -"Xavier will explain it all to me. How silly I look in the middle of -the conversations where I can't put in a word." - -She pretended to desire a rose out of reach of her hand. M. Hervart -darted forward, reached the flower and set to work to strip the branch -of its thorns and its superfluous wood and leaves. - -"That was not the one I wanted," said Rose. - -M. Hervart began again and the girl looked on, happy at having been -able to interrupt a serious conversation by a mere whim. - -Leonor examined them with a certain irony. Rose noticed his look, felt -herself blushing and slipped away. - -M. Hervart and Leonor continued their stroll and their chat; but they -talked no more about love. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -Luncheon passed agreeably for Rose. She was the centre of looks, -desires and conversation. M. Lanfranc gallanted without bad taste. -She would laugh and then, with sudden seriousness, accept the contact -of some gesture of M. Hervart's, who was sitting next to her. Leonor -confined himself to a few curt phrases, which were meant to sum up the -more ingenuous remarks of his fellow guests. He had thought he could -treat this girl with contempt, but her eyes, he found, excited him. By -dint of trying to seem a superior being, he succeeded in looking like a -thoroughly disagreeable one. Rose was frightened of him. - -"How cold he is," she thought. "One could never talk or play with a man -so sure of all his movements. He would always win." - -Several times, with innocent unconsciousness, she looked at M. Hervart. - -"How well I have chosen! Here is a man who is younger than he, nearer -my own age, and yet each of his words and gestures brings me closer to -Xavier. I feel that it will be always like that. Who can compete with -him? Xavier, I love you." - -She leaned forward to reach a jug and as she did so whispered full in -M. Hervart's face, "Xavier, I love you." - -M. Hervart pretended to choke. His redness of face was put down to a -cherry stone; Lanfranc gave vent to some feeble joking on the subject. - -As luncheon was nearing its end, she said with a perverse frankness: - -"M. Hervart, will you come with me and see if everything's all right -down in the garden?" - -"I am having coffee served out of doors," Mme. Des Boys explained. - -Lanfranc expatiated on the beauties of this country custom. - -As soon as they were hidden from view behind the shrubbery, Rose, -without a word, took M. Hervart by the shoulders and offered him her -lips. It was a long kiss. Xavier clasped the girl in his arms and with -a passion in which there was much amorous art, drank in her soul. - -When he lifted his head, he felt confused: - -"I have been giving the kiss of a happy lover, when what was asked for -was a betrothal kiss. What will she think of me?" - -Rose was already looking at the rustic table. When M. Hervart rejoined -her, she greeted him with the sweetest of smiles. - -"Was that what she wanted then?" M. Hervart wondered. - -"Rose," he said aloud, "I love you, I love you." - -"I hope you do," she replied. - -"Oh, how I should like to be alone with you now!" - -"I wouldn't. I should be afraid." - -This answer set M. Hervart thinking: "Does she know as much about it as -all that? Is it an invitation?" - -His thought lost itself in a tangle of vain desires. But for the very -reason that the moment was not propitious, he let himself go among the -most audacious fancies. His eyes wandered towards the dark wood, as -though in search of some favourable retreat. He made movements which he -never finished. Raising himself from his chair, he let himself fall -back, fidgeted with an empty cup, searched vainly for a match to light -his absent cigarette. The arrival of Leonor calmed him. His fate that -day was to embark on futile discussions with this young man, and he -accepted his destiny. - -Every one was once more assembled. The conversation was resumed on the -tone it had kept up at luncheon; but Rose was dreaming, and M. Hervart -had a headache. It was all so spiritless, despite the enticements of M. -Lanfranc, that M. Des Boys lost no time in proposing a walk. - -"If you want us," said Leonor, "to draw up a plan for the -transformation of your property, you must show it to us in some detail. -Is this wood to be a part of your projected park? And what's beyond it? -Another estate, or meadows, or ploughed fields? What are the rights of -way? Do you want a single avenue towards Couville? One could equally -well have one joining the St. Martin road.... - -"Do you intend to lay waste this wood?" asked Rose. "It's so beautiful -and wild." - -"My dear young lady," said Leonor, "I intend to do nothing; that is to -say, I only intend to please you...." - -"Do what my daughter wants," said M. Des Boys. "You're here for her -sake." - -"For her sake," Mme. Des Boys repeated. - -"Oh, well," said Leonor, "we shall get on very well then." - -"So I hope," said Rose. - -"I am at your orders," said Leonor. - -"Come on then," said Rose. - -With these words she got up, throwing M. Hervart a look which was -understood. But as M. Hervart rose to his feet, Mme. Des Boys -approached him: - -"I have something very interesting to tell you." - -M. Hervart had to let Rose and Leonor plunge alone into the wood in -which he had, during these last few days, experienced such delightful -emotions. Mme. Des Boys took him into the garden. - -"I have a question to ask you," she said. "First of all, is -architecture a serious profession?" - -"Very," said M. Hervart. - -"But do people make really a lot of money at it?" - -"Lanfranc, who was a beggar when I first knew him, is probably richer -than you are to-day. Leonor will go even further, I should think, for -he seems an intelligent fellow and knows a lot about his business." - -"You're not speaking out of mere friendship for him?" - -"Not at all. Far from it; to tell you the truth I'm not very fond of -either of them." - -"But they're thorough gentlemen and very good company." - -"Certainly, Lanfranc especially." - -"Isn't he amusing? His nephew is more severe, but I prefer it." - -"So do I." - -"I'm glad to see that you agree with me." - -She continued after a moment's reflection. "He would be an excellent -husband for Rose." - -Hervart did not reply. He had grown pale and his heart had begun -beating violently. His thoughts were in confusion; his head whirled. - -"What do you think of the idea?" Mme. Des Boys insisted. - -He withheld his answer, for he knew that his voice would seem quite -changed. He murmured; "Hum," or something of the sort, something that -simply meant that he had heard the question. - -But bit by bit he recovered. The happy idea came to him that time. Des -Boys was a nullity in the family and had little influence over her -daughter. - -"Nothing that she says has any importance. I'll agree with her." - -"I entirely agree with you," he pronounced, - -"My daughter's a curious creature," went on Mme. Des Boys, "but your -approbation will perhaps be enough to convince her. You have a great -deal of influence over her." - -"I?" - -"She's very fond of you. It's obvious." - -"I'm such an old friend," said M. Hervart courageously. - -His cowardice made him blush. - -"Why shouldn't I confess? Why not say, 'Yes, she does like me, and I -like her, why not?' Isn't my desire evident? Can I go away, leave her, -do without her?..." But to all these intimate questions M. Hervart did -not dare to give a definite answer. - -"What I should like is that the present moment should go on for -ever...." - -"They have hardly spoken to one another, and yet," Mme. Des Boys -continued, "I seem to see between them the beginnings of ... what?... -how shall I put it?..." - -"The beginnings of an understanding," prompted M. Hervart with ironic -charity. "Why not love? There's such a thing as love at first sight." - -"Oh, Rose is much too well bred." - -The silliness of this woman, so reasonable and natural, none the less, -in her role of mother, exasperated M. Hervart even more than the -insinuations to which he had been obliged to listen. Ceasing, not to -hesitate, but to reflect, he said abruptly: - -"I shall be very sorry to see her married." - -Mme. Des Boys pressed his hand: - -"Dear friend! yes, it will make a big difference in our home." - -She went on, after a moment's hesitation: - -"Not a word about all this, dear Hervart; you understand. And now I -think that the _tete-a-tete_ has perhaps gone on long enough; it would -be very nice of you if you'd go and join them." - -M. Hervart, impatient though he was, made his way slowly through the -meanders of the little copse. Like Panurge, he kept repeating to -himself, "Marry her? or not marry her?" - -His head was a clock in which a pendulum swung indefatigably. He sat -down on the little bench where, for the first time, he had fell the -girl's head coming gently to rest on his shoulder. He wanted to think. - -"I must come to a decision," he said to himself. - -Leonor had noticed that, from the moment their walk had begun, Rose was -on the alert at the slightest noise. - -"She expects him. That means he'll come. So much the better. I -care very little about this schoolgirl. We're alone now; no more -compliments. I'm simply a landscape gardener at the orders of Mlle. -Rose Des Boys. What a name!..." - -He looked at the girl. - -"After all, the name isn't so ridiculous as one might think. She is -so fresh, she looks so pure. How curious they are, these innocent -beings who go through life with the grace of a flower blossoming by the -wayside.... But let's get on with our job.... - -"The taste of the day, mademoiselle, inclines towards the French -style of garden. Some compromise, at least, is necessary between the -sham naturalness of the English park and the rigidity of geometrical -designs.... - -"Tell me what your compromise is." - -"But I don't know the ground yet." - -"It isn't big, you know. In a quarter of an hour you will have an idea -of the place as a whole." - -Leonor continued his dissertation on the art of the garden for a -little, but he was perfectly aware that he was not being listened to. -Finally he said: - -"Nature must obey man; but a reasonable man only asks of her that she -should allow herself to be admired or to be loved. Those who wish to -admire are inclined to impose certain sacrifices upon her. Those who -love ask less and are content, provided they find an easy access to the -sites that please them. But I should imagine that women demand more. -They want nature to be tamer, they want to see her utterly conquered; -they want landscapes in which you can see the mark of their power...." - -"What a curious conversation," Rose said to herself. "Here's an -architect who would get on my nerves if I had to pass my life in his -company...." - -This idea made her think more urgently of M. Hervart. She turned her -head, questioning the narrow alleys where the sunlight filtered through -in little drops. - -"She's thinking of her dear Xavier," thought Leonor. "What subject can -I think of to hold her attention? Obviously, my remarks have so far -interested her very little." - -A man, however cold he may voluntarily make himself, however -self-controlled he may be by nature, is scarcely capable of going -for a walk alone with a young woman without wishing to please. He is -equally incapable of keeping his presence of mind sufficiently to be -able to look at himself acting and not to make mistakes. But how can -one please? Can it be done by rule, particularly with a young girl? -Women are hardly capable of anything but total impressions. They do not -distinguish, for instance, between cleverness and intelligence, between -facility and real power, between real and apparent youthfulness. If -one pleases them, one pleases in one's entirety, and as soon as one -does please them, one becomes their sacred animal. Leonor had an -inspiration. Instead of expounding his own ideas on gardens, he set to -work to repeat, in different terms, what Rose had said that morning: - -"What I have been expounding," he said, "doesn't seem to interest you -much. But you see, I must do my job, which is to back up M. Lanfranc. -Personally, I agree with you. If there are weak spots in your house, -the nearest mason can put on the necessary plaster, stone and mortar. -As for the garden and the wood, I should do nothing except make a few -paths so that I might walk without fear of dew or brambles." - -"Now you're being sensible. Very well then, I shall tell my father that I -shall make arrangements with you alone. You will come back here and we -will do nothing, almost nothing." - -"I shall come back with pleasure and I shall do nothing; but if I have -not made you dislike me I shall consider that I have done a great deal." - -"But I don't dislike you. When people agree with me, I never dislike -them." - -"But how can people fail to agree with you when you say such sensible -things?" - -"Oh, that's very easy. M. Hervart doesn't dispose with disagreement. He -contradicts me, laughs at me." - -"Good," thought Leonor, "she's in love with Hervart; then she likes -being contradicted and even laughed at a little. Or perhaps she's -lying, so as to make me believe that Hervart is indifferent to her. -Let's try and get a rise." - -"At this age that sort of thing is permissible." - -"That's why I don't get cross." - -"And besides, he's very nice." - -"Oh, so nice; I'm very fond of him." - -"It doesn't take," thought Leonor. "Hervart, to her, is a god and we -might go on talking till to-morrow without her understanding a single -one of my insinuations or ironies." - -He went on, nevertheless, picking out all the spiteful things that can -be said with politeness. - -"Old bachelors often have manias...." - -"That's what I often tell him. For instance, his taste for insects.... -But it amuses him so." - -"She's invulnerable," said Leonor to himself. - -"And then he knows life. He has lived so much." - -"That's true. Sometimes, when he's speaking to me, I fed as though a -whole world were opening before me." - -"He knows all there is to be known, the arts and the sciences, -friendship and love, men, women.... He's seen a lot of them and of -every variety." - -This time it was Rose who paused a moment to reflect, then: - -"That's why I have such immense confidence in him. It's a real -happiness for me that he should come and spend his holidays here. I -have learnt more in these few weeks than in all the other years of my -life." - -Leonor looked at Rose. He felt a powerful emotion, for to be loved like -this seemed to him the height of felicity. He had never believed that -it was possible to inspire a young girl with such ingenuous confidence. -And how frank she was! What a divine simplicity! - -"How does one make oneself so much loved? What's his secret? Ah! if only -I dared ask more! But now, I don't even want to try and violate an -intimacy so charming to contemplate. I'm looking at happiness, and it's -such a rare sight." - -He glanced at Rose once more. - -"And with all that she's very pretty. How graceful she is under this -aspect of wildness! What suppleness of form! Everything down to her -complexion, gilded and freckled like an apple by the sun, looks lovely -in these country surroundings. How well a wife like this would suit -me; for I belong to this country and am destined to live here. Why -couldn't Hervart have stayed among his Parisian women?" - -"He must be very fond of you," he went on, "and I envy his happiness -in being allowed to be your friend. I shall come back, since you so -desire, but I would rather not come back." - -"Why?" - -"Because I don't want to displease you." - -"But it won't displease me; far from it. Do explain." - -"If I come back, perhaps, I shan't have the strength of mind not to -grow fond of you, and that will make you angry." - -"But why? How odd you are! Make yourself a friend of the house. I shall -be very pleased." - -"But then I shan't be able to like you as you like M. Hervart." - -"Oh! I don't think that would be possible." - -"And you won't like me as you like him." - -She broke into such ingenuous laughter that Leonor assured himself -that she had not understood anything of his insinuations. However, he -was wrong, and her laughter proved it. She had laughed just because -the idea had suddenly come to her that another man might have played -Xavier's part in what had happened. The idea seemed to her comic and -she had laughed. But the idea had come, and that was a great point. - -It was such a great point that in her turn she looked at Leonor, -and this time she did not laugh; but she had no time to make any -comparison, for at the same moment she pricked up her ears and said, -"There he is." - -M. Hervart did not arrive till quite an appreciable time had passed, -and Leonor said to himself: - -"She scents her lover as a pointer scents the game. Love is -extraordinary." - -He abandoned himself to reflection, astonished at having learnt so many -things in half an hour's walk with a young and simple-hearted girl. - -Rose was staring with all her eyes in the direction from which the -sound of rustling leaves had come. Leonor stooped down behind her and -kissed the hem of her skirt. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -While he was alone, M. Hervart had done his best to make a decision, -as he had promised himself to do; but decisions had fluttered like -capricious butterflies round his head and would not let themselves be -caught. He was neither surprised nor vexed at the fact. - -"Rose," he said to himself at last, "will do all I want." - -This certitude was enough for him. The moment he had a will, Rose would -acquiesce. - -"Provided my will agrees with hers, that's obvious. Now Rose's wish is -to become Mme. Hervart. Dear little thing, she's in love with me...." - -He dwelt complacently on this idea, but a moment later it alarmed him -and he felt himself a prisoner. A hundred times over he repeated: - -"I must have done with it. I will speak to Des Boys this evening, -to-morrow morning at latest.... He will laugh at me. But that's all. -He will have to give in afterwards. My will, Rose's will.... I shall -carry her off and take her to Paris. Is it my first adventure? If it's -the last it will at least be a splendid one." - -He pictured to himself all the details of this romantic enterprise. He -would, of course, reserve a compartment in the train so as to insure -a propitious solitude. It would not be at night, but in the evening. -After an amusing little supper and some thrilling kisses, Rose would -go to sleep on his shoulder and from time to time he would touch her -breast, kiss her eyelids. She would be, at this moment, at once his -wife and his mistress, the woman who has given herself, but whom one -has not yet taken, a beautiful fruit to be looked at and delicately -handled before it is at last relished. What an exquisite creature of -love she would be. How docile her curiosity! What a pupil, like clay -the hands of the sculptor. An elopement? Why not a marriage tour? No, -no elopements! no romantic nonsense! Des Boys will give me his daughter -when I want.... - -But suddenly he had a curious vision. He was standing on the platform -of Caen station, amusing himself by peeping indiscreetly into the -carriages, and what did he see?--Rose and Leonor huddled together, -mouth against mouth. The train moved on, and he was left standing -there, looking at the red light disappearing in the smoke.... - -He got up, full of jealousy; he ran, then slowed down, listening for -possible words, questioning the silence. Without his knowing exactly -why, Rose's laugh, heard through the leaves of the wood, reassured him. -He saw Leonor stoop down and rise again holding a little pink flower in -his hand. - -"_Sherardia arvensis_," he said, taking the flower. "It has no business -to grow here. Its place is in the field next door. _Arvensis_, you see, -_arvensis_. But there are lots of plants that lose their way." - -"He knows everything," said Rose. "You see, he knows everything." - -Leonor, who had understood the allusion, did not answer. He walked -away, under the pretense of continuing his botanical researches in the -wood. - -"If love were born at this moment in my heart, it would be most -untimely, it would have chosen its place very unfortunately. Does he -love as he is loved? That is what I should like to know. Is he capable -of perseverance? Who knows? It may be, Rose, that you will one day lie -weeping in my arms." - -All three of them made their way back, Leonor walking a little ahead. -M. Hervart kept silence, for what he had to say demanded secrecy, and -commonplace words were impossible. Rose did not notice the silence; she -herself did not think of talking. She was happy, walking dose to her -lover. Sometimes, furtively she stretched out her hand and squeezed -one of his fingers. M. Hervart allowed his left arm to hang limply on -purpose. Leonor did not turn round once, and Rose was grateful to him -for that. M. Hervart, who felt that his secret had been guessed, would -have preferred a less deliberate, a less suspicious discretion. - -"What have these architects come to do here?" he wondered. "It looks -as though it had all been arranged by the Des Boys with a view to -getting off their daughter. Will they come back? Leonor certainly will. -And shall I be able to stay?" - -His perplexities began again. When Rose's hand touched his own, he -felt himself her prisoner, her happy slave. As soon as the contact was -removed, he was seized by ideas of flight and liberty. He would like -to have called Leonor, flung Rose into his arms and made off across -country. - -"I have never been so much disturbed by any amour. It's the question -of marriage. What complications! I hate this fellow Leonor. But for -him.... But for him? But is he the only man in the world? If I don't -take her, it will be somebody else." Suddenly he drew closer to Rose -and whispered frenziedly in her ear a stream of tender and violent -words, "Rose, I love you, I desire you with all my being, I want you." - -Rose started, but these words responded so exactly to her own thoughts -that she was only surprised by their suddenness. First she blushed, -then a smile of happy sweetness lit up her face and her eyes shone with -life and desire. - -They soon rejoined Lanfranc and M. Des Boys, who were confabulating -over a glass of wine. A few minutes later the architects got into their -carriage. - -At the moment when the groom let go of the horse's head, Leonor turned -round. Rose realised that the gesture was meant for her; she slightly -shrugged her shoulders. - -"I'm going to do a little painting," said M. Des Boys. - -"I caught sight of an interesting beetle at the top of the garden," -said M. Hervart. - -"I'm going up to my room," said Rose. - -Five minutes later the two lovers had met again near the bench on which -M. Hervart had meditated in vain. - -Without saying a word, Rose let herself fall into her lover's arms. Her -drooping head revealed her neck, and M. Hervart kissed it with more -passion than usual. His mouth pushed aside the collar of her dress, -seeking her shoulder. - -"Let us sit down," she said at last, when she had had her fill of her -lover's mild caresses. And taking his head between her hands, she in -her turn covered him with kisses, but mostly on the eyes and on the -forehead. Desiring a more tender contact, he took the offensive, seized -the exquisite head and after a slight resistance made a conquest of her -lips. There was always, when they were sitting down, a little struggle -before he reached this point, although she had often, when they were -walking, offered him her lips frankly. On the bench it was more -serious, because it was slower and because the kiss irradiated more -easily throughout her body. - -"No, Xavier, no!" - -But she surrendered. For the first time, M. Hervart, having loosened -her bodice, touched the soft flesh of her breast, fluttering with fear -and passion. He kissed her violently, and when the kiss was slow in -coming she provoked it, amorously. A simultaneous start put an end to -their double pleasure; and there, sitting close to one another, were -a pair of lovers, at once happy and ill satisfied. One of them was -wondering if love had not completer pleasures to offer; and the other -was saying, what a pity that one is a decent man! - -At the moment M. Hervart considered himself very reserved. Later, when -he had recovered his presence of mind a little more, he felt certain -scruples, for he was delicate and subject to headaches as a result of -indecisive pleasures. He felt proud of the at least partial domination, -which he could, at scabrous moments, exercise over his nervous centres -with his well-constructed, well-conditioned brain. - -"Do you love your husband, little Rose?" - -"Oh, yes!" - -She roused herself to utter this exclamation with energy. M. Hervart -felt no further indecision. Furthermore, he began almost at once to -give a new direction to his thoughts. He wanted something to eat; Rose -acquiesced. As she was slow in getting up he wanted to pick her up in -his arms; but his arms, grown strangely weak, were unequal to the light -burden. M. Hervart felt, too, that his legs were not as solid as they -might have been. He would have liked to eat and at the same time to -lie down in the grass. He let himself fall back on the bench. - -"You look so tired," said Rose, inventing every kind of tenderness. -"Stay here, I'll bring you some cakes and wine." - -But he refused and they went back together. - -Cheered by a little sherry and some brioches, M. Hervart asked for -music. Rose, inexpert though she was, soothed her lover with all the -melodies he desired. She even sang to him. The songs were all romances. - -"Joys of the young couple," he said to himself, half dozing. "A picture -by Greuze. Nothing is lacking except the little spaniel dog and the -paternal old man looking in at the window and shedding a few quiet -tears 'inspired by memory' at the sight of this ravishing scene. There, -I'm laughing at myself, so that I can't be quite so badly done for as -might have been thought. Not so close a prisoner, either." - -"Go and see my father," said Rose, leaving a verse half sung. "I'll -come and find you there later." - -And she went on with her music. - -"More and more conjugal, for I shall obey her after having, of course, -gone over: I kissed her in the neck. Dear child, she's waiting for the -surprise, shivering at it already...." - -Everything went off as M. Hervart had predicted, but there was -something more. Rose turned round and said, after offering her lips: - -"Go along, my darling, and mind you admire his painting a lot, more -than yesterday." - -"Yes, my love." - -"How charming it all is!" he said to himself as he knocked at the -studio door. "Delightful family conspiracies. Shall I be able to play -this part for long? Suppose I announce my intentions to my venerable -friend. Obviously there can be no more hesitation. Come on!" - -They talked of Ste. Clotilde. M. Hervart was loud in his praise both -of the historical knowledge as well as the pictorial skill of the -master of Robinvast, and at every word he uttered he felt a longing to -make the conversation touch on the conjugal virtues of that honourable -queen. Then the desire passed. - -Dinner time came. Afterwards, as usual, they played a game of whist. -M. Hervart retired to bed with pleasure and, wearied by his kisses and -his thoughts, went to sleep full of the contentment that comes from a -pleasant fatigue. - -"I shall have to warn Rose," he said to himself as soon as he woke, -rather late, next morning, "of her mother's schemes. They might make -her fall into some trap." - -He soon found an opportunity. In the morning their kisses were more -reserved, still somnolent. They frittered away the time pleasantly. M. -Hervart would sometimes make a serious examination of some rare insect: -Rose worked at her embroidery with conviction. They did not venture -into the wood, because of the dew, but remained in the neighbourhood of -the house. At this hour of the day M. Hervart was always particularly -lucid. He discoursed on a hundred different topics and Rose listened, -without daring to interrupt, even when she did not understand. She -enjoyed the sound of his voice much more than the sense of his words. - -Rose was not surprised to learn of her mothers schemes. She -confessed, furthermore, that she had divined in M. Varin's attitude -the existence of quite definite intentions. It was therefore decided -that M. Hervart should make his request that very day in order to -forestall circumstances. Rose spoke so resolutely and her words were -so lyrical that M. Hervart felt all his absurd hesitations melt away -within him. She knew her parents' income and gave the figure, very -straightforwardly, like the practical woman she was. M. Des Boys had an -income of sixty thousand francs of which, she imagined, he hardly spent -half. There was no doubt that he would willingly give the greater part -of the other half to his only daughter. As she had also calculated, -though with less certainty, the value of M. Hervart's fortune, she -included decisively: - -"We shall have from thirty to forty thousand francs a year." - -M. Hervart calculated the figures again with the details that were -known to him personally and found the estimate correct. His admiration -for Rose was increased. - -"She has all the virtues: an aptitude for love and the sense of -domestic economy, intelligence and very little education, health -without a striking beauty. Finally, she adores me and I love her." - -At the first insinuations of his friend M. Des Boys smiled and said: - -"I thought as much. My daughter has received but the vaguest education. -Her mother is incapable. As for me, I am interested only in art. She -needs a serious husband, a husband, that is to say, who is not in his -first youth. If she wants you, take her. I'll go and ask her." - -M. Hervart was on the point of saying there was no need. But luckily he -checked himself and M. Des Boys questioned his daughter. - -"I should like to," she said. - -M. Des Boys returned. - -"She said, 'I should like to,' She said it without enthusiasm, but she -said it. Now go and arrange things yourselves. I shall go on with my -painting." - -M. Hervart admired Rose still more for her astute answer. - -The girl was waiting for him as he came towards her, serious, scarcely -smiling, but beautified by the profound emotion that she could scarcely -contain. She gave him her hand, then her forehead; and when M. Hervart -drew her into his arms, she burst into tears. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -Meanwhile Leonor had received a wound which he could not support with -patience. A hundred times a day he thought of Rose. He was not in love -with the woman, he was in love with her love. He saw her as she had -appeared to him in the wood at Robinvast, with her whole desire, her -whole will, her whole body, turned innocently toward M. Hervart and he -felt no jealousy; on the contrary, he admired the ingenuous force of so -confiding, so powerful a love. By having been able to inspire such a -love M. Hervart evoked in him an almost superstitious respect; he would -willingly have helped him in his amour. - -"I should like to know him," he said to himself naively; "I should ask -him for advice and lessons. I should beg him to reveal his secret to -me." - -He would spend hours dreaming on this theme: to be loved like that. In -these matters the most intelligent easily become childish. The ego is -a wall that limits the view, rising higher in proportion as the man is -greater. There is, however, a certain degree of greatness from which, -when a man reaches it, he can always look over the top of the wall of -his egoism; but that is very rare. Leonor was not a rare character; he -was simply a man a little above the ordinary, capable of originality -and of learning from experience, clever at his profession, apt at -forming general ideas, sometimes refined and sometimes gross, a peasant -rather than a man of the world, a solitary, cold of aspect, full of -contradictions, ironic or ingenuous by fits, tormented by sexual images -and sentimental ideas. - -He was not one of those in whom a budding love, even a love of the -head, abolishes the senses. The more he dreamed about Rose, the more -disquietingly tense grew his nerves. His desire did not turn towards -her; he caught himself one evening spying on the wife of the Barnavast -keeper, who was showing her legs as she bent over the well. It made -him feel rather ashamed, for this big Norman peasant woman, so young -and fresh, could boast, he imagined, of nothing more than a peasant's -cleanliness--wholly exterior, and he would only, could only tolerate -woman in the state of the nymph fresh risen from the bath, like the -companions of Diana. - -Besides, he noticed that Lanfranc was making up to this good creature -and doing it in all seriousness. Sure of giving him satisfaction by -taking himself off for a few days, he drove to Valognes and took the -Paris train. - -Leonor, without making pretensions to conquests, would have liked -to have certain kinds of adventures. He wanted to find one of those -women whom some careless husband, whether through avarice or poverty, -deprives of the joy of fashionable elegance or who, adorned by a -lover's prodigalities, dreams of giving for nothing the present which -they none the less very gladly sell. He had experienced these equivocal -good graces in the days when he lived in Paris. He had even succeeded, -during the space of eighteen months, in enchanting a very agreeable -little actress who fitted marvellously into the second category, and -he remembered how he had taken in a very pretty and very poor young -middle-class woman who had surrendered herself to him because he had -given himself out to be a rich nobleman. At the moment his mistress -was Mme. de la Mesangerie, a local beauty; but he had never really -possessed her as he desired. - -What Grand Turk ever ruled over such a harem? Paris, the cafes, the -concert halls, the theatres, the stations, the big shops, the gardens, -the Park! The women belong to whoever takes them; none belongs to -herself. None leaves her home in freedom and is sure of not returning -a slave. Leonor had no illusions with regard to the results of his -sensual quest He knew very well that he would captivate none but -willing slaves, slaves by profession, slaves by birth. But the hunt, if -the game came and offered itself graciously to the hunter, would still -have its attraction--that of choice; the fun would be to put one's hand -on the fattest partridge. - -"No," he said to himself, as he walked down the Avenue de l'Opera, -"this child from Robinvast shall not obsess me thus hour by hour. Any -woman, provided she is acceptable to my senses, will deliver me from -this silly vision. Is there such a thing as love without carnal desire? -It would be contrary to physiological truth. If I love Rose, it means -that I desire her.... If I desire her, it means that I have physical -needs. Once these needs are satisfied, I shall feel no desire for any -woman and I shall stop thinking of this silly girl. Hervart can do what -he likes with her; I shan't mind; and, after all, will the satisfaction -which he derives from her be so different from that which some unknown -woman will lavish so generously on me? A little coyness, does that add -a spice? The sensation of a victory, a favour is better. Shall I obtain -a favour? Alas, no. But by paying for it one can have the most perfect -imitations. Ah! why am not I at Barnavast, gauging cubes of masonry, -with glimpses of Placide Gerard's podgy thighs? Now I know just what -will happen.... Does one ever know? It's only eleven in the morning and -I've got a week before me." - -Still pursuing his stroll and his reflections, he entered the Louvre -stores. Here, provincials and foreigners were parading their -requirements and their astonishments. One heard all the possible -ways of pronouncing French badly. It was an exhibition of provincial -dialects. He jumped on moving platforms and staircases, passed down -long files of stoves and lamps, went down again, traversed an ocean -of crockery, went upstairs, found leather goods, whips and carriage -lanterns, tumbled into lifts, was caught once more in a labyrinth of -endless drapery, and after having wandered for some time among white -leather belts garters and umbrellas, he found himself face to face with -Mme de la Mesangerie, who blushed. - -"Is it a stroke of luck?" he wondered. - -Perhaps it was, for she said to him very quickly: - -"I'm alone. My husband has just gone back. I was going to wire to you." - -Then in a lower voice: - -"Well here you are! I don't ask how it happened. Shall we profit by the -opportunity?" - -"It seems to me that I was looking for you without knowing." - -"I have two days," she said, "at least two days." - -They left the shop, making their plans, which were very simple. - -"Let's go," she said, "and shut ourselves up at Fontainebleau for a -couple of days." - -"No, at Compiegne. It's more of a desert." - -She wanted to start on the spot. Her provincial prudery seemed suddenly -to have flown away. She was no longer the calm mistress who had never -yielded except to the most passionate entreaties. The proud-hearted -woman was turning into the lover, full of tenderness, a little reckless. - -As he packed his bag, Leonor felt very happy, though still very -much surprised. He decided, however, that he would ask no equivocal -questions. The woman he was looking for, and whom he would not have -found, had just fallen into his arms. What was more, he knew this -woman, he was in love with her, though without passion; he had derived -from her furtive but delicious pleasures. She inspired him, in a word, -with the liveliest curiosity: he trembled at the thought that he was -now to see her in all her natural beauty. - -"Is she as beautiful as she is elegant? Suppose I were to find a -farm-girl under the dress of the great lady." - -Less than an hour after their meeting they were together in the -refreshment room of the Gare du Nord. They had time to eat a hasty -luncheon, then the train carried them off. - -"I'm quite mad," she said, kissing Leonor's hands. "What an adventure! -It's I who have thrown myself at your head." - -"I have thrown myself so often at your knees!" - -"Very well, let it be understood that I am yielding to an old -entreaty--and to my own desire, my darling boy, for I love you. -Haven't I done what you would have liked often enough? But do you -think I didn't want to as much as you? A woman has so little freedom, -especially in a country place. How many women are there who would dare -do what I have done, even that little? Getting lost when we were out -shooting--that was all right for once. How frightened I was when you -got into my railway carriage, against orders, one evening at Conde.... -Many's the afternoon I've spent dreaming of you, you wicked boy.... -There, you make me quite shameless. I'm glad." - -And she took Leonor's head between her hands, kissing it all over, at -haphazard. Leonor had often seen her kissing her little boy or her dog -like that. - -Hortense was thirty. She owed her name to certain Bonapartist -sentiments which, in her family, had survived by a few years the events -of 1870. Certain elegant habits of thought and manners had also been -preserved. Her father, M. d'Urville had been one of the actors of -Octave Feuillet's comedies, in this same Compiegne where they were now -arriving. At the age when girls begin to forget that there are such -things as dolls, she had read the complete works of this shy passionate -writer; her mother did not forbid her to look at the _Vie Parisienne_, -in which her happy frivolity had never seen anything that might be -dangerous for a well-bred girl. And so, when she married, Hortense -knew that though marriage may be a garden surrounded by a wall, there -are ladders to climb over this wall; the only things she thought of in -her husband were rank, fortune and the conventions. Her first lover -had been a young officer, with whom, as with Leonor, she had lost -her way hunting; only with him it had been a stag-hunt. Leonor had -participated only at an ordinary shoot, M. de la Mesangerie, in view of -the present hard times, having broken up his pack of hounds. That affair -had been of the most fugitive character. Afterward she had received the -advances of M. de la Cloche, a once celebrated member of the Chamber -of Deputies; but M. de la Cloche voted the wrong way, and under the -cloak of political reasons M. de la Mesangerie closed his doors to him, -in spite of his wife, who concealed a real though momentary despair. -Finally M. Leonor Varin came to stay at La Mesangerie to superintend -certain repairs to the fine Louis XIII house. In this chilly young man, -so cold and yet so romantic as well as sensual, Hortense had found a -more durable love, which greatly increased her happiness. Under a -very skilfully calculated reserve, she adored Leonor, who had, on his -side, always shown himself obedient, respectful, adroit and tender. -She realised that the furtive pleasures which she was able to give him -without compromising herself did not altogether satisfy her lover. She -too, in whom the avid sensuality of the woman of thirty had begun to -wake, desired pleasures of a less rapid and more complicated nature. -Leonor's kisses and the words he whispered had little by little filled -her imagination with images which she wanted to see in real life. How -often she had thought of running away! Two days in Paris! And now her -husband had given her these two days himself. - -When she said, "I'm glad" she was confessing to the existence of a -happiness in which it still seemed impossible wholly to believe. She -pressed herself close to Leonor. - -"Is it true? Are we really both of us here, alone and free?" - -In a whisper she added, her bosom heaving with precipitate waves, "I -shall be yours, absolutely yours, at last." - -"All mine, all?" asked Leonor, touching her mouth with his own. - -"I belong to you." - -She had the wisdom to withdraw, and looking out of the window she asked: - -"Where are we?" - -"We are coming near our happiness," said Leonor. - -They crossed the Oise, calm and gentle; then came the first houses of -Compiegne and in a moment the station. They felt a strange emotion. - -She did not wish to go to the Bell Hotel. A cab took them quickly to -the Stag. Leonor was paying it off, but Hortense, wiser than her lover, -kept it to do a round in the forest. She was pitiless and laughed, but -with passion in her laughter; she changed her clothes and came down -again. - -They passed, without seeing it, before that elegant casket of stone -which is the town hall. Following the fringe of the Great Park they -reached the Tremble hills, where oaks and chestnut trees emerge, like -the sails of ships, above the green ocean of bracken. They got down -from the carriage with the intention of losing themselves for a moment -in this bitter-smelling sea. The woman's white dress and fair hair left -a luminous track as she advanced, for she was flying, like a laughing -nymph before the hoarse laughter of the faun. - -"It was about time," she said when the carriage picked them up to take -them on to the Beaux-Monts. - -"Time? what do you mean?" - -"Yes," she went on, "I was too entranced.... We'll come back. Would you -like to? We'll come back every year.... One needs a lot of virtue to -resist the persuasions of the forest." - -"Virtue," said Leonor, "consists in being able to defer one's pleasure -or one's happiness.... I should like to see you in this scented sea, a -nymph, a dryad, a siren...." - -"Do you want to?... You're driving me crazy." - -The climb up the slope of the Beaux-Monts calmed their nerves. The -carriage, which had come round by the circular road, was waiting for -them at the top. They stood for a little while looking at the mist-grey -distances. - -They drove back by the Soissons road; they looked at nothing now and, -since it had grown cool, they drew closer together and sat with clasped -hands. - -Leonor was thinking of the curious chances that had transported him, -in a day or two, from Barnavast into the forest of Compiegne and had -changed his profession from architecture to love. In spite of the fact -that it seemed absurd and almost indelicate, he began, sitting in this -carriage with his mistress's hand in his, to think of his walk with -Rose. - -"Rose is the cause of it all. It is she who brought me here, not you, -poor darling, who sit dreaming at my side. It is she who made me hungry -for the kisses I reserve for you?? kisses that any other woman might -have received in your place.... Yes, squeeze my hand, you may do it, -for I really think I love you. I love you more than chance, I love -you more than the woman I was looking for, because you are the woman -I found. Besides, the perfume of your soul will make sweet your own -pleasure without thinking at all of mine. In love, egotism is a homage; -it is also a sign of confidence." - -The moment came. Silence fell with the night. She strove to hide her -shyness under an impudent smile. - -"Must I be a statue to please you? Am I a statue?" - -"Your beauty would enchant me," he said, "even if it were not you. -Statue, are you made of marble?" - -"You know I'm not." - -She called to mind, though the moment seemed most inapposite, her -husband's pudicity, his discreet entries into the conjugal chamber, -the timidity of his caresses, the decency of his words, and the sudden -savagery after his almost brotherly conversation. M. de la Mesangerie -had explained to her that the final formality was necessary for the -procreation of children. "God," he added, "has so ordered it, and we -must bless his divine providence." He seemed to regret the obligation -of going so far and, whether through natural or acquired foolishness, -or whether through hypocrisy, he encouraged his wife to believe that -sensual pleasures were contemptible. "They are," he even said, "a means -and not an end." Following these principles, he had deprived her of -them as soon as her first child seemed imminent. M. de la Mesangerie -was very pious and prided himself on the possession of a most -enlightened and methodical religion. - -"That's the way," she said to herself, as she looped up her hair, "to -train up a wife for adultery." - -Under the pretext of sticking a pin into her hair, she stood admiring -herself in front of the glass, and at the same time, at the risk of -offending her lover, who shouldn't have doubted the fact, she said, -"You're the only person who has seen me like this, you and I...." - -When Leonor went to sleep she knelt beside his adored body and pious -words came to her lips: she had found the living god at last. - -They had two days. They decided to finish the last hours at Paris and -they returned to shut themselves up in a hotel in the Rue de Rivoli. -Hortense was indefatigable. - -"What shall we do to recapture this?" she asked. - -The idea of taking a little house at Carentan seemed to them a good -one. Mme. de la Mesangerie would always have the pretext of going to -see her mother at Carquebut; her husband accompanied her there only -once a year. - -"Yes," said Leonor; "there's the time between two trains, one hour; -then one misses one train. That makes two hours. Plenty of things can -be done in two hours." - -"Lovers learn the art of using every moment." - -To Hortense it seemed as though she had begun a new life, her real -life. She began consulting time-tables, fitting in her connections. -Then she tossed the booklet aside, saying: - -"Bah! It would be much simpler to get divorced." - -"Your husband's virtue stands in the way, my dear." - -She did not insist. Nevertheless, at this moment, she would have -abandoned everything--family, children, house, fortune, honour--to -follow Leonor and become the wife of a little architect with a still -uncertain future. And then she would be the niece of Lanfranc, whose -mother used to sell cakes to the children in the Place Notre-Dame -at Saint-Lo! She had bought them from her when she was ten. Her -aristocratic instinct revolted, but she looked at Leonor and reflected -that the demigods were born of the peasant girls of Attica. She pursued -her idea. - -"Your mother must have been very beautiful." - -"Who told you so? It's quite true." - -She wished to go to the station alone, refused to be seen off. - -"When shall I see you? You're not going to stay on in Paris?" - -"No." - -Leonor kept his word. He saw Hortense starting for the station, with -red eyes, and an hour later he left in his turn. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -Satiated, languid with that fatigue which is a blessing to the body and -a joy for the lightened brain, Hortense was thinking. She was not sorry -to be returning home. The journey--what better pretext could there be -for the headaches which demand darkness and silence, or long morning -hours in bed, for siestas? - -"I must sleep off my love, as drunkards say that one must sleep off -one's wine. But what a horrid comparison! I shall dream deliciously. My -lover, I have only to shut my eyes to see you, happy in my happiness, -and to feel your dear caresses. Tell me, are you pleased with me? What -must I do to be still more your mistress? Yes, I ought not to have -gone away; I ought to have stayed with you, at your orders, forgetting -everything that is not you. You should have run and overtaken me, kept -me, locked me up! But listen, I shall go and see you every week. Oh! -how gladly I shall tell lies! How pleasant it will be for me to look -M. de la Mesangerie in the face while he reads around my eyes only the -innocent fatigue of a long journey!" - -The delirium of the senses invaded all her life. She scarcely -remembered the events that had preceded her trip to Compiegne. She had -spent more than an hour wondering if there were round about St. Lo, or -in the forest of Cerisy, any of these oceans of bracken. She could not -think of any; but she would look.... - -M. de la Mesangerie, who was waiting for her at the station, -thought she looked tired. She was not tired; she was in a state of -hallucination. However, she had enough presence of mind to reproach her -husband for having deserted her. Thus, she hadn't dare fix definitely -on the furniture which they had almost chosen together; she had -spent two days of indecision in the Louvre stores, tiring every one, -including herself. - -"You must go back there by yourself," she said, "it will be your -punishment." - -M. de la Mesangerie was flattered. But there was another misfortune: -the toys for the children had been forgotten. Hortense felt rather -ashamed when she confessed this; she also inwardly regretted such an -oversight. - -"I am a lover, but I am also a mother." - -For the first time the possibility of a conflict between two tendencies -of her heart occurred to her. A few minutes' shopping in the town -repaired her omissions, and meanwhile gave opportunity to send a post -card to Barnavast. After that she abandoned herself, with a certain -pleasure, to the re-discovery of familiar landscapes: they were not so -different as she might have thought. - -Leonor went back with no lyrical ideas in his head, but none the less -very well satisfied. - -"I have a mistress of the very kind I wanted. Libertinage and -sentiment. The mixture has a very piquant savour. But I didn't believe -her capable of so much boldness. She would never have dared in her -own surroundings. People only become themselves out of their native -surroundings: they either die or else they develop according to their -own physiological logic. Breton girls, out of whom Paris sometimes -makes such agreeable little drabs, are dreamy little prudes in the -shade of their village belfry. Hortense is, as was said of Marion, -'naturally lascivious'; she might have died without knowing the art of -fruitfully employing this precious temperament. She seemed so awkward -and shame-faced when she abandoned herself at those first meetings of -ours. She loves me. But mayn't she perhaps love me too much? Leave her -husband! No she must remain my secret." - -He was in a very good humour, and took an interest in the trees and -rivers and houses that he passed. The monotony of the apple orchards -and the fields of cows did not bore him in the least. Having nothing to -desire he was enjoying the mere process of living! - -He stopped at Carentan to look for a house in which he could hide a -bed, failed to find one, but discovered a very decent furnished room. -The skipper of an English coasting steamer occupied it sometimes, but -the people would be happy to have a more sober tenant. Everything -smelt strongly of whiskey. He made the bargain, had the room cleaned, -paid well and made no concealment of his intentions. "Oh, yes," they -answered, "the other tenant used to bring them back with him too. It's -all right provided there's no noise." - -"_Them_, he thought; that's what she'll be for these people. Just one -of them." - -He left them and strolled along the shore to Grandcamp, thinking of -nothing but the little sensations of the moment. He was not one of -those who complain that the seaside is fringed with houses, that -there are shelters where one can take refuge from wind and rain, iced -drinks to melt the salt out of one's throat, board and lodgings and -the movement of a second-rate, but sometimes curious, humanity. These -little boys destined to become gross males, little girls whom time will -turn into pretentious young ladies and rich middle class brides--what -pretty and delicate animals they are! Much more amusing than little -dogs or kittens! He had often pondered on the mystery of intelligence -among children. How is it that these subtle creatures are so quickly -transformed into imbeciles? Why should the flower of these fine -graceful plants be silliness? - -"But isn't it the same with animals, and especially among the animals -that approach our physiology most closely? The great apes, so -intelligent in their youth, become idiotic and cruel as soon as they -reach puberty. There is a cape there which they never double. A few men -succeed; their intelligence escapes shipwreck, and they float free and -smiling on the tranquillized sea. Sex is an absinthe whose strength -only the strong can stand; it poisons the blood of the commonalty of -men. Women succumb even more surely to this crisis. Those who have -been intelligent in their critical age is past. In both sexes there -are two successive crises: the sexual crisis and the sensual crisis. -The first comes at a fixed period for the individuals of the same -race and the same environment. The second generally coincides with -the completion of growth, with the state of physiological perfection. -Sometimes, when decline is beginning, a third crisis occurs, which is -like the first, inasmuch as it almost always brings with it a condition -of sentimentality. Hervart, I feel almost sure, is going through this -crisis now; Hortense and I are at the second; Rose is undergoing the -first." - -Leonor, like many of his contemporaries, despised his profession. He -was an architect, but his desire was to write scientific works, showing -that physiology is the base of all the so-called psychical phenomena. -All the acts which men call virtuous or vicious were, he considered, -made inevitable by the state of the organs and the disposition of -the nervous system. Nothing made him want to laugh so much as the -pretensions of cold-blooded women who make a merit of their chastity; -and he was amazed, after so much scientific data, at the way in which -men went on considering the explosions of the organism as voluntary or -involuntary. The influence of conscience on human conduct seemed to -him null. He had demonstrated this to one of his friends, a master in -an ecclesiastical school, by means of a grandfather clock which stood -in his study. "What you call conscience," he said, "is the weight that -works the striking apparatus. But I can take off that weight and the -clock will go on making the hours without striking them." This friend -had confessed that his own very real chastity was entirely involuntary: -women roused no desire in him. He had once made the experiment and had -obtained, after the greatest difficulty, only a most disappointing -result. "I believe," he added, "that most of my colleagues are like -me. Some of them, more favoured by nature, employ their faculties in -secret; another has a private vice; and I know one who is a danger -for children. For the most part we are chaste by the will of nature -herself. Debauchery would be a torture for me. I am only interested in -mathematics." - -Leonor, however, had no intention of succumbing to the embraces of the -sensual crisis. - -"Let me profit by this momentary disposition, but let me preserve -at the same time a certain spirit. I mustn't compromise either my -physical, intellectual or social fortune. Within these limits I can -give myself body and soul to this midsummer madness. Hortense is a -perfect violin; I will be her devoted bow. And between her hands, -am not I also a good instrument? Oh! the fools who pass their life -fighting against their passions! After that, what happens? When they -see that the garden is almost flowerless, they come in melancholy -fashion to smell the last rose: the wind passes and they find only a -bush of leaves and thorns! But shouldn't I also ask: after that? May -it not be that the only delicious thing in life is the constancy of an -unconscious love? I know only too well that I love Hortense, and I know -only too well why I love her. It is certain that on the day when she -appears to me less beautiful I shall leave her. Suppose I let it go at -that? Suppose I looked for something else? Is variety as satisfactory -as quality? Let's have a look on this beach.... I must make use of -my state of mind, that is to say of the pleasing irritation of my -nerves...." - -Chance is scarcely ever anything more than our aptitude to take -advantage of circumstances. On the beach Leonor met a young and pretty -woman, a young woman of the sort that one sees so many of, the sort -whose dress and figure tell one nothing decisive. He might have gone -on contemplating the melancholy death of the wave at her feet; but he -was walking for this very purpose--to meet a woman walking by herself: -his desire created the chance. For a moment he was afraid that she was -going to make advances, but she passed on. He followed. Skirting the -water all the while, the young woman moved away from the frequented -part of the sands. She tried to pick up a ribbon of weed, but it -escaped her. Leonor reached it. Out of the water, it was a long vicious -whip-lash. She thanked him, embarrassed by the present. - -"Throw it back, then. It's like most of our desires. As soon as one -holds them fast, one would like to throw them back into the sea." - -She gave a little laugh, a sad, almost a smothered, laugh. - -"Oh! Not always," she said. - -They turned back toward the dunes and, seated on the sand, began to -talk as though they were old friends. - -She looked at him insistently, though not appearing to do so. Finally -she said: - -"You don't look like a nasty man." - -"Is that a compliment?" - -"In my mouth, yes." - -Then, little by little warming up, she talked without stop. It was a -flood of words, like the mounting tide, only more rapid. She told him -the story of her life. Leonor liked this sort of thing from ladies of -equivocal reputations, and he now displayed a keen interest, putting in -little words that inspired confidence. This was what he succeeded in -making out: - -She lived in Paris and gave herself only to a small number of friends, -always the same. The respectability of her life was, therefore, beyond -suspicion. Her parents could not complain of having that sort of -daughter. They lived in the north, near Boulogne; hence, in order not -to meet them or the people from her part of the country, she confined -her peregrinations to the seaside resorts of Normandy. Among her -friends two were particularly dear. One was a young foreigner, who -lived in Paris six months of the year; but he went on sending her money -during the summer The other, though he was older, gave less she liked -him better--being a Parisian, he was clever. He was a civil servant. -She would not specify the office for which he worked, but it seemed to -be the department of Fine Arts. The first of these friends imagined -that she was at Grandcamp, where she had just arrived; for the civil -servant was at Honfleur. That complicated her correspondence a little, -but it was better. Besides, she had had no opportunity of writing to -the civil servant for a long time, for he gave signs of life only by -an occasional post-card. That seemed to her suspicious and made her -sad. When he had last written he was at Cherbourg, but he had given no -address. - -"He looks like a man who wants to get married. Married! he's not -capable of satisfying a woman. All the same, I like him. And besides, I -should miss him for other reasons." - -This woman, with her commonplace life her commonplace brain, had an -agreeable voice, a delicate face, intelligence in her eyes and a sort -of natural elegance. Leonor felt a violent desire for her. - -"I am spending several days here," he said. - -"So am I." - -"Shouldn't we spend them together?" - -She gave a pretty laugh, allowed herself to be entreated, and accepted, -after having once more examined Leonor with a sagacious eye. The -proposition accepted, she offered him her lips, looked at the time on a -minute watch and got up, saying: - -"Let's go and have dinner. We must hurry to get a little table." - -Her name was Gratienne. She was a little woman, with a mass of dark -hair, and her profile was charming. Leonor was amused by the contrast -between this little statuette and the opulent Leda type of Hortense. -She had a supple body, fresh and delicately scented; and since she -was a professional and ardently shared the pleasures she provoked, he -passed several pleasant nights. The days were much less agreeable, for -he had to submit to long prolix confidences. There were amusing touches -in her stories, but from professional ethics she refrained from ever -uttering a proper name, a fact which somewhat confused her anecdotes. - -One evening, however, in a moment of distraction or of confidence, she -allowed Leonor to turn over her little collection of post-cards. - -"Besides," added, "as you're not Parisian, the names will tell you -nothing." - -Leonor looked at ships, mountains, casinos, girls bathing and many -other interesting pictures. Some were signed Theobald and came from -Austria, others Paul, and came from the Pyrenees. - -"Hullo, Tourlaville castle!" - -Without appearing to do so, he examined the writing of the address with -care. He did not know the hand. The card was signed H. He passed on. -Another of the La Hague castles. This time the signature was Herv. - -"Surely it's Hervart." - -The name appeared in full at the bottom of Martinvast Castle, with a -postscript of "love and kisses." - -"That must be the civil servant in the Fine Arts Department. Obviously." - -For a moment he felt annoyed at being the collaborator, even the casual -collabor, of M. Hervart. He would have preferred someone he did not -know. Theobald pleased him better. But all at once he thought of Rose: - -"It's curious," he said to himself, "that we should love the same women -in all the different styles." - -While Gratienne was looking out of the window, he slipped the card of -Martinvast castle into his pocket. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -Since his marriage had been decided on, M. Hervart seemed very happy -Rose's confidence in him had grown still greater and with it their -intimacy. He hesitated now about only one thing: what date should he -fix? Rose, without admitting the fact wanted to be married as soon as -possible, so that she might know the end of the story. Women, however, -are broken into prolonged patience. She would wait, if Xavier decided -that they ought to wait. To obey Xavier was to her a great pleasure. - -M. Hervart's latest hesitations were not very comprehensible. His -situation, after the winter, would be in no way altered. What was the -present obstacle? Gratienne? Of course, he thought himself passionately -adored by her, but would she love him less, would she be less hurt a -year hence? His ideas about Gratienne, were moreover, variable. At -one moment he attributed to her the virtue of an unhappily married -woman who has given herself for love to her heart's choice; at the -next going to the opposite extreme, he saw her prostituted to every -chance comer. The humble truth escaped him. Expert in these matters -though he was, he had never been able to see that Gratienne was a girl -who could skilfully reconcile her interests, her pleasures and her -sentimental needs, and who completely dissociated these three things. -What she loved in M. Hervart was the sensual lover, but she none the -less appreciated the rich and serious civil servant in him. For free -love is like legal love in this also, that money reinforces sentiment. -Thus M. Hervart esteemed Gratienne sometimes more and sometimes less, -but he always loved her the same, having, moreover, no visible breach -of contract to reproach her with. The thought of deserting Gratienne -filled him with distress, not because of the pain he himself would -feel, but because of the pain that she most certainly would suffer. -Besides, even when he was in a mood to despise Gratienne, he set store -by her esteem. However, all of that would come right, he thought, for -the situation was a common one and one of those that have to be solved -every day. - -"As soon as I have possessed Rose, I shall think no more of Gratienne, -that's obvious. And then, why should I break with the charming girl -brutally? I don't intend to upset her." - -At bottom, it was the thought of marriage itself that was still -alarming M. Hervart. He felt the tyrant that they all turn into already -rising up beneath the surface of the sweet young girl. - -"She loves me, therefore she will be jealous. So shall I perhaps. Or -perhaps in a few days I shall dislike her. Shall I please her for long? -She loves me because she knows no one else but me." - -M. Hervart's health sometimes alarmed him. He would wake up feeling -more tired than when he went to bed. The least cold caught him in the -throat or in the joints. And when meals were late, his breathing became -difficult and he was seized with giddiness. - -"I'm a fool. Here am I, getting married at an age when wise men begin -unmarrying. Bah! In spite of everything, I'm still tough and I can -still tame a woman." - -He recalled, with pride, his last rendezvous with Gratienne; he had -conquered her, annihilated her, reduced her to a pulp, and himself, -strutting like a cock, had crowed over his happy victim. - -"Besides, with Rose, I shall be master. I shall be for her the Man and -men in general.... By the way, why hasn't Gratienne written to me since -I've been here? Of course, I never gave her my address." - -That had been the right thing, he first thought; then he reproached -himself for it, felt almost remorseful. He hastily concocted a quite -affectionate letter, asking for news. There was a letter-box not far -away, on the St. Martin road; he went quickly downstairs and ran there -with his missive. - -On his return he found Rose in the garden. Since their engagement she -had been living in a perpetual smile. She entered naively into her -destiny, suspecting no further possible obstacle to her happiness. At -the same time, by what must have been instinctive coquetry, she had -become, not more reserved, but less prompt at their habitual sports. -She spoke a great deal of her future house, picturing to herself -their drawing-room furniture, which she pictured from the illustrated -catalogues, and the colour of their carpets and curtains. The idea -of this furniture horrified M. Hervart, who had a taste for antiques -and happy discoveries, which he mixed, without shame, with practical -constructions made under his own directions. To-day he found it more -difficult than usual to tolerate this housewifely chatter. He was bored. - -"Can it be," he wondered, "that I feel nothing but a wholly carnal -love for her? What's the use of marrying, if I can't see in her the -wife, the mother, the lady of the house as well as the mistress? In -that case Gratienne is quite enough for me. Marriage is delightful when -one is fresh from school. One finds the happiest establishments among -students. They live on one another, in one another. Promiscuity seems -an enchantment. One makes one's first acquaintance with the opposite -sex; one completes oneself. Later on, all this intimacy is no longer -possible; and later still, one is very well content with mere amorous -visitations while one awaits the moment when solitude brings the only -instants of appreciable happiness." - -M. Hervart brought his meditations to no conclusions, and so the -morning passed--Rose choosing imaginary wallpapers and Xavier -philosophising in secret on the unpleasantnesses of marriage. - -After luncheon, a diabolic idea occurred to him: Why shouldn't he -take a definite advance on his conjugal rights? The blood went to his -head. He began to breathe a little heavily as he pressed Rose against -him. When they were seated, the usual ceremony took place after the -usual rebuffs. She allowed her lover's hand to wander. Their mouths, -meanwhile, were kissing, drinking one another. After a moment of calm, -M. Hervart, on his knees now, took one of Rose's feet in his hand. He -caressed the ankle and she made no resistance, when he became more -daring, though much moved, still she did not protest, and did no more -than whisper, "Xavier! No! No!" Nothing more happened. M. Hervart -did not dare. While, feeling very uncomfortable, he was deploring his -virtue, Rose fondled him and called him naughty. - -"It's curious," he thought, "that they all have the same vocabulary by -nature." - -He was ashamed. Nothing makes a man ashamed so much as having failed in -his purpose, what ever may have been the cause of his failure. He said, -a little nervously: - -"Let's walk a little. Let's do something." - -"What an idiot I am," he thought, as they walked along the Couville -road, where there are rocks and a little heather and foxgloves among -the birch-trees; "after all, she's my wife." - -On the following days the same manoeuvre was repeated several times, -and M. Hervart always hesitated at the decisive moment. - -"Besides," he wondered, "would she let me? I can hardly violate my -fiancee, can I? I have taught her nothing she doesn't know. If we came -on to untried lessons, how would she take it?..." - -He continued: "Dismal pleasures for me. I've had enough of them. It -was amusing only the first time." - -Finally, one evening when they had gone out alone, a thing which never -had happened before, he was a little more daring.... - -The darkness made Rose receive her lover's caresses more willingly than -usual. She was expecting them. The thing which had appeared so bold to -M. Hervart obviously seemed already quite natural to her.... - -"Much more natural, perhaps, than allowing me to touch her breast or -the under side of her arm...." - -M. Hervart made bold to ask for more.... "Rose! Rose!" - -But the girl recoiled. Suppressing a cry, Rose got up and said: "Let's -go indoors." - -She added, a moment later, "It's wrong Xavier, it's wrong. Respect me." - -"What logic," said M. Hervart to himself. "Respect me! But it's true, I -made a mistake. With young girls especially one must begin at the end." - -The next day they met very early and Rose, refusing to listen to -anything he had to say, refusing even to give him a friendly kiss, -pronounced the sentence on which she had been meditating: - -"I am angry. If you want me to pardon you, go away at once and write -to me a week hence that everything's arranged for our marriage. I -love you. You will realise that when I am your wife, but not before. -I have been willing to play with you and you have tried to abuse the -privilege. It's wrong. Go!" - -He had to go, she was inflexible. - -When M. Hervart got into the express at Sottevast, Rose cried. She had -forgiven him because she loved him. She had forgiven him because he had -obeyed. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -From 8.57 a.m. till the hour of 6 p.m., when she rang at his door, M. -Hervart had precisely one idea, a single one: he must meet Gratienne. - -She had been in Paris since the day before, and she had just written to -him when she got his telegram from Caen. Her delight was very great. -She fulfilled her lover's desire with joy. - -"I love you, my old darling!" - -M. Hervart spent two days without thinking of Rose except as something -very remote. He was thrilled to re-discover the Louvre: he looked at -the colonnade before he went in; even the "fighting Hero" seemed a -novelty to him: he went and meditated in front of the crouching Venus, -of which he was especially fond. It was there that he had often met -Gratienne. How he loved her! What a pleasure it had been to come back -to his "ephebe." - -On the third day after his arrival he received Gratienne's letter -forwarded from Robinvast. That disturbed him a little--Rose's writing -superimposed on Gratienne's. - -"But aren't they superimposed in life? No, I mean, mingled together. -Rose is much too ignorant of the way things go to have any suspicion. -And besides, I must have got at least ten letters in women's -handwriting while I was at Robinvast and I never made any attempt at -concealment.... Rose--it's true I went rather far with her. But whose -fault was that? If she had resisted my first attacks, I shouldn't have -insisted. What an egoist she is!... However, I ought to write to her. -No, not to-day. It's my turn to be cross." - -During the day he thought several more times of Rose. The scenes in -the garden and the wood came back into his mind and unnerved him. Then -a question posed itself in his mind: Do I love her? But he would not -answer. Others presented themselves yet insistently: How shall I draw -back. He did not understand. He had no intention of drawing back. Well, -then, should the marriage take place? He really didn't know. - -"I must have a breathing space. I come back, I have arrears of work and -friends to sec. Everything must be done properly. For the little dryad -of the Robinvast wood, there is only one thing in the world and that is -I. For me there are a dozen things, a thousand...." - -He rang the bell, gave unnecessary orders, asked futile questions. It -was only at about three o'clock that he opened the door to an image -which had been prowling round his head since the morning: Gratienne was -coming to pick him up at four and they were to go to St. Cloud. That -was one of his great pleasures. - -"Will Rose be able to understand these profoundly civilised landscapes, -this well-tamed nature, these hills with their harmonious lines like -the body of a lovely sleeping woman?" - -M. Hervart felt in very good form. The uncomfortable symptoms which had -disquieted him in the country had disappeared since his return.... He -found in Gratienne a favourable reception and to the realisation of his -desires. She knew his tastes and she shared them. In short, he promised -himself several delightful hours after this familiar outing. However -a very disagreeable surprise was in store for him. After the preludes -of passion, when his whole being was bent on realisation, M. Hervart -had a moment of weakness. Gratienne's skilful tenderness had certainly -overcome it, the self-esteem of both parties had been preserved. - -In the morning, he thought of Stendhal, carried the volume to his -office and read chapter LX of _L'Amour_ with the greatest attention. -He found nothing there to enlighten him. Gratienne, certainly, did -not inspire, and indeed no woman had ever inspired, in him that kind -of ill-balanced passion in which the body recoils, alarmed at its own -boldness. - -"Stendhal no doubt had discovered one of the reasons for an absence -of apropos, but he had found only one. And besides, all this doesn't -belong to psychology; it is physiology. There's nothing but physiology. -Bouret will tell me about it." - -Bouret, who knew M. Hervart's life, made him relate, point by point, -the whole history of his last year. Finally he said: "Well it's very -simple." - -Bouret employed no circumlocutions. He was clear and brutal. After a -moment's reflection he continued! - -"The inevitable accompaniment of Platonic love is secret vice. Simple -flirtation leads to the same consequences. Double flirtation is secret -vice _a deux_, discreet and hypocritical. Triple flirtation, if it -exists, would still be secret vice _a deux_, but avowed, frank. It -would perhaps be less dangerous than double flirtation, which is -simply realisation artificially provoked. No virility can stand that. -Women, for another reason less easy to explain, are destroyed by it -just like men. Men are fools. If you want a woman, take a woman and -behave like a fine animal fulfilling its functions! And above all -beware of young girls. Young girls have destroyed the virility of more -men than all the Messalinas in the world. Sentimental conversations, -furtive kisses and hand-squeezings are almost always accompanied in -an impressionable man, especially if he has several months or even a -few weeks of chastity behind him, by loss of vigor. Then do you know -what happens? One gets used to it. I believe that our organs, despite -their close interdependence, have a certain autonomy. The first thing -you must do is to preserve perfect chastity for an indefinite period. -Active occupations, fatigue; you must procure sheer brute sleep. Then, -in two or three months make a few direct attempts, absolutely direct. -If that's all right, you must marry and set your mind to producing -children. There." - -"Then you condemn me to conjugal duty." - -"That's it precisely." - -"One should marry a woman one doesn't love? - -"That would be true wisdom." - -"And be faithful to her?" - -"Obviously." - -"Or else renounce everything?" - -"I won't go as far as that. Your case isn't desperate. You have fled in -time." - -"I didn't fly. I was driven away." - -"Bless her cruel heart. Tell me, did she permit indiscretions?" - -"Yes, I should almost have said willingly." - -"She will be a dangerous wife." - -"She is so innocent!" - -"There are no innocent women. They know by instinct all that we claim -to teach them." - -"That's just what innocence is." - -"Perhaps. But a delicate voluptuary with an innocent and amorous girl -is a lost man." - -"I begin to realise the fact." - -"There are not," Bouret went on, "several kinds of love. There is only -one kind. Love is physical. The most ethereal reverberates through the -organism with as much certainty as the most brutal. Nature knows only -one end, procreation, and if the road you take does not lead there, she -stops you and condemns you at least to some simulacrum; that is her -vengeance. Every intersexual sentiment tends towards love, unless its -initial character be well defined or unless the partners are in a phase -of life in which love is impossible.... But I am treating you too much -as a friend and too little as a patient. You seem to be pensive. You're -not as much interested in questions as Leonor Varin. He is my pupil -in the physiology of morals. How is Lanfranc? He doesn't Platonise, -doesn't flirt...." - -"Oh! no." - -"Varin interests me. Do you know him?" - -"Very little." - -"The loss is yours. One of his days he will become a fine mind, if he -gets over the sensual crisis. I'd like to marry him to some one." - -"That's your panacea." - -"Perhaps it is one, my friend, on condition that marriage is taken -seriously. It's only in marriage that one can find stability. By the -way, have you seen Des Boys' daughter? He writes to me from time to -time. We have remained friends because, though he's a fool, he's a -laconic fool. And then he's a very decent sort of fellow and a man to -whom I owe my position. He seems to be almost embarrassed with his -daughter. He has no connections in the world. What's she like? Pretty? - -"Yes." - -"Intelligent? I mean, of course, as far as a woman can be intelligent." - -"Yes." - -"And now the principal thing--her health?" - -"Good as far as one can see." - -"Ho, ho! I shall unloose Varin in pursuit of this nymph." - -"Unnecessary; he knows her." - -"Ah, he knows her?" - -M. Hervart got up. He was afraid that some unforeseen question might -make him say something silly. Suppose Bouret, who was a friend of Des -Boys, guessed something? He tried to think of an ambiguous phrase and -found one: - -"I spent a day at the Des Boys' with Varin. I don't know if he's a -familiar of the house." - -And with that he went away. - -"What a bad business!" he said to himself, as he thought of his health, -for the rest was of secondary importance to him now. "No more women! No -more Gratienne! No libidinous thoughts! Am I master of my thoughts? Why -not a course of pious reading?" - -He spent several black days, then gave orders, in one of the galleries -of his museum, for one of those untimely upheavals which drive the -amateur wild. M. Hervart needed to distract himself. After a week, -Gratienne grown anxious, sent him an express letter. He yielded to the -suggestion and that evening made an attempt which Bouret would have -considered premature. However, it succeeded marvellously well and M. -Hervart felt new life spring within him. - -The next day, as he was in excellent spirits, he wrote to Rose, whose -prolonged silence had ended by pricking his self-satisfaction. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -On reaching Barnavast, Leonor had found two letters; which of the two -interested him the more he could not tell. One was from M. Des Boys, -asking him to come and finish, before the winter, and immediately, if -he could, the alterations at Robinvast. A room was ready for him. He -had but to give them warning, and they would send for him. The second -came from La Mesangerie. It was a diary. - -"15th September. What are my children's kisses after the kisses of my -lover? It is like the smell of the humble pink after the heady perfume -of the rarest flowers.... - -"What a fool the woman is," said Leonor inwardly. "Why does she write. -She has intelligence, her conversation is agreeable, she has taste, and -see what she writes! God, how melancholy!..." - -"... But pinks have their charm, just as they have their own season, -and I am happy to come back to them, since their season has returned." - -"That," thought Leonor, "is better; it's almost good.... Is Hervart -still at Robinvast? I hope not. His holiday wasn't indefinite, I should -think. Suppose I wrote to Gratienne?" - -"... You flowers that the touch of my Beloved made to blossom in my -heart, you perfume my soul, you intoxicate my senses...." - -"Intoxicate my senses.... Is it necessary to remember myself to -Gratienne? I would as soon get my information from another source." - -"... intoxicate my senses. My body trembles at the thought of the night -at Compiegne, every moment of which is a star that shines in my dreams. -I did not know what love was...." - -"Who does know what love is?... I don't feel bound to answer that -to-day. Now I come to think of it, I don't know where Gratienne is. -She must have left almost at the same time as I did. Let's leave it at -that...." - -"... what love was.... I have no desire to meet Hervart again at -Robinvast. He bores me. Is she really going to marry this civil -servant? If Rose knew. Yes, but if Rose knew everything, would she -think much more of me than of M. Hervart? I am ten years younger than -he, that's all; and my mistress is a much heavier millstone about my -neck than his. It's easy to get rid of a Gratienne; with some one like -Hortense, the process is much more difficult. She may make a scandal, -she may kill herself, she may make her husband turn her out and then -come and take refuge in my arms.... What then? Besides I love this -beautiful woman quite a lot and it would distress me very much if I had -to drive her to despair. And then Rose is wildly in love. Let me be -reasonable. Where was I? Still at love." - -"... what love was, before knowing you; I did not know what pleasure -was before our mad night...." - -"That's very likely. But I am doubtful about love. Is it love, that -frenzy of sensual curiosity that makes us desire to know, in every -aspect and in all its mysteries, the longed-for body? Why not? It is -indeed, probably, the best kind of love. Bite, eat, devour! How well -they realise it--those who reduce the object of their love to a little -bit of bread which they swallow. The Communion--what an act of love! -It's marvellous. Bouret would think that foolish, perhaps; but Bouret, -right as he is in being a materialist, is wrong in not understanding -materialistic mysticism. Can any one be at once more materialistic and -more mystical than those Christians who believe in the Real Presence? -Flesh and blood--that's what lovers want too, and they too have to -content themselves with a mere symbol." - -"... our mad night. It revealed a new world to me. I shall not die, -like Joshua, without having seen the earthly paradise." - -This phrase, despite its banality, pleased Leonor, who had begun to -feel more indulgent towards his mistress. - -"To write along letter like this was a great effort for her, and as -it was for me that she made the effort, I should be a cad to laugh -at it. That is why it would be as well to read no more. I shall ask -her to give me a rendezvous too. Afterwards I shall go to Robinvast. -Everything fits in well." - -The assignation at Carentan was difficult to arrange. Hortense, at -first delighted and ready to start, seemed to hesitate. It was too -near, the town was too small. But her desire was so strong! What should -she do? She hoped to find some pretext for going to Paris alone. - -The truth was that, re-established in her surroundings, Hortense -did not feel sufficiently bold to flout the rules voluntarily. She -was one of those women who are ready to do anything, provided that -circumstances determine their will. She could yield on an impulse to -an imperious lover, where or when did not matter, as soon as safety -was assured; she would profit by a chance, but to create chance, -to organise it--that was another matter. Her escapade at Compiegne -appeared to her now as one of those strokes of fortune which life does -not grant twice. She dreamed of a new chance meeting with Leonor; but a -concerted assignation! At the very thought, she felt herself followed, -shadowed; the idea made her quite ill. To be surprised by her absurd -husband--how shameful that would be! - -"If Leonor came here we could easily find some means. I could have a -headache, one Sunday, stay in my room, be alone in the house; besides, -there is luck." - -She always entrusted herself to luck. She had never yielded to any of -her lovers except on the spur of the moment. - -"Might we not recapture," she went on, "something of the night at -Compiegne, even in a rapid abandonment?" - -Women are ruminants: they can live for months, for years it may be, -on a voluptuous memory. That is what explains the apparent virtue of -certain women; one lovely sin, like a beautiful flower with an immortal -perfume, is enough to bless all the days of their life. Women still -remember the first kiss when men have forgotten the last. - -Hortense dreamed, Leonor desired. He thought only of yesterday's -mistress, when he did think of her, in order to make her the mistress -of to-morrow. His sentimentality was material. He crossed the stream -from stone to stepping-stone, from reality to reality. In default of -Hortense, he had taken Gratienne, not to satisfy his physical, but -his cerebral needs. To live, he had to have the electuary of two or -three sensations, always the same, but always fresh. Was he capable -of a profound emotion, and would such a love have influenced his -physiological habits? He did not know. Faithful to Bouret's theories, -he did not think so. - -He wrote to Hortense: "I want you to come." She was frightened but -happy. - -"How he loves me!" - -The pleasure of obeying struggled in her with fear. Fear, at certain -moments, gave way. - -"Since he wants me to come, it is clear that he knows I can come, that -there is no danger. And then, he will be there!" - -She leaned on Leonor as on a second husband, stronger, more real, -though distant. Distant? But wasn't he always present in her thoughts? - -One morning her fear gave way altogether, she wrote, set out, arrived. - -She was trembling, and she still trembled long after the bolts were -shot. - -This new festival of love was vain, on account of her sensibility. -Leonor, astonished by a coldness which he imagined he had overcome for -ever, attributed it to a failure of tenderness. He knew that women -only palpitate with the men they adore, but he thought that they ought -always to palpitate. He did He did not know that there are women who, -their whole life long, pursue the delirious sensations which they are -doomed never to find again. He imagined therefore, that he was no -longer loved, and he was bitter, for men are readily bitter when their -mistress's exaltation is too moderate. - -Hortense wept. "Oh, my dream, my beautiful dream!" - -Her tenderness had, however, in no way diminished. Leonor had to admit -it as he received contritely Hortense's poignant kisses. He asked her -pardon, humiliated himself, and for a moment she was happy in the -caresses of her lover, but she was still whispering to herself, "Oh, my -dream, my beautiful dream!" - -After her departure, Leonor coldly informed his landlady that he -did not mean to come back; then after a long tedious wait in an inn -parlour, he returned to Barnavast. A letter awaited him, pressing him -to come. M. Des Boys begged him, with a kind of anxiety, to fix the day -on which they could come and fetch him. - -Leonor would have liked, however, to devote some few days to -meditation. He had a question to answer, "Does she love me?" - -"We shall not meet again at Carentan, that is decided. Besides, it -was absurd. What a place to make love in! Her failure was due to her -repugnance for the surroundings. It was a sign of her refinement of -feeling. And then women have no imagination. To me, everything is a -palace; the woman I adore would light up a hovel.... Does she love me?" - -But it was in vain that he repeated the question, he could find no -answer. - -"What a fool I am! I shall see well enough next time. I continue to -love her. She is beautiful, she is obedient.... But is that the aim of -my life? Suppose she were given me for my own?" - -But to this question he could think of no answer either. - -Hortense, at the same moment, in the old room she had had before she -was married, was going to sleep, sighing, "Oh, my dream, my beautiful -dream!" - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -When Leonor arrived at Robinvast, Rose and her father were sitting -in the garden, each of them reading a letter.... From time to time, -Rose would raise her eyes and look at the trees; M. Des Boys between -two sentences of his letter would examine his daughter. During this -last fortnight, she had been pale, sad, out of humour; and her father, -absent-minded, but affectionate, had grown anxious. What was going -on between the recently engaged couple? But M. Des Boys would never -have dared to question his daughter. He was waiting for a confidence, -knowing quite well that it would never come; and on her side, Rose was -unhappy at having to keep locked up in her heart the troubles that -were suffocating her. These two people, shy and secretive towards one -another, might have remained like this for years without deciding to -speak the words which would have consoled them. - -M. Des Boys had accordingly urged Leonor to come and finish his work. - -"It will be a distraction for her," he had thought, "and then, at -bottom and in spite of my pledged word, I agree with my wife: Leonor -would be a much more suitable husband. What! Can Hervart be making her -unhappy already." - -The letter he was reading at this moment put the final touch to his -anxiety. It was from Bouret and Leonor was much praised in it. Bouret -went on: - -"I have seen Hervart and have equally advised him to get married, but -for different reasons. Though he is little younger than we are, he is -probably nearer the end. We shall all, alas, see this end confronting -us, if we live another fifteen years. Do you understand me? With -prudence and diplomacy, Hervart can still drag on a long time, can -even recapture brilliant moments; but he has played too much on the -fine violin given him by nature. The strings will snap one after the -other. As long as one remains a virtuoso, one can still astonish ears -habituated to vulgar exercises; but all the same, a single string is -very risky! I have therefore ordered him to marry and, above all, to be -faithful to his wife. Fidelity will bring satiety, satiety will bring -continence, and continence will perhaps be the true philter. A young -wife is not so dangerous as one thinks for a man on the down grade. She -is a favourable stimulant and, at the same time, a moderating element. -In fine, Hervart may make a very good husband. In any case it's an -experiment that interests me. I should be quite capable--if it gives -good results, that is, at least a fine child--of yielding myself to an -old temptation. I would give up my practice and go and cultivate roses -and camellias in some corner of your earthly Paradise, in the Saire -Valley, where one sees palms among the willow-trees!" - -"I had almost forgotten one important point in our hypothesis. The -young wife must have a virtuous temperament, without coldness, but -also without sensual curiosity; a good reproducing animal, apt in the -pleasure of conceiving rather than in the pleasure of love-making; one -of those who, after having been blushing brides, become loving mothers. -If he falls on some rebellious woman he is lost. If the instrument -which he has to tune and render sensitive gives out no sound or false -notes he will lose courage and return to his old concerts. But if, by -chance, his wife should reveal herself as a creature of voluptuousness, -his perdition would be still more certain: Hervart would flare up -like a faggot and nothing but a handful of ashes would be left. I am -not speaking of the adultery which would, in these last two cases be -inevitable. Sometimes it has the effect of re-establishing the balance -in a dislocated household; there are excellent conjugal associations in -which each party has his or her ideal down town, in a different quarter -of the city. But this is a matter of sociology and doesn't interest -me. I remain in my domain, which is the human body, its functions, -its anomalies. I may add that it is by their ignorance of it that the -sociologists think of such nonsense as they do. They are still hard -at work--the idiots!--reasoning about averages, they never come down -to reality, to the individual. How it is despised, this human body of -ours! And yet it is the only truth, the only beauty, just as it is the -only ideal and the only poetry...." - -Bouret was inclined to philosophise. His letters almost always passed -the range of his correspondents' comprehension. He saw that himself, -when he re-read them, and smiled. All that M. Des Boys understood in -his friend's dissertation was the passage which concerned Hervart; -but that he understood very well. Bouret's reticences produced their -ordinary effect: Hervart was considered as a man incapable, condemned -without reprieve. - -"He's a madman. What does he mean by going and captivating a young -girl's heart when he isn't sure of being able to make a wife of her! -The Lord knows, women aren't angels; they have corpora! sensations; and -then maternity, maternity...." - -M. Des Boys confided to himself all the scabrous or moral banalities -that such a subject could make him think of. Meanwhile, he examined his -daughter. - -"How shall I explain this to her? I shall make her mother do it." - -He continued his meditations; and sometimes he would smile at the -evocation of foolish fancies, sometimes his brows contracted and he -would feel a mixture of anxiety and anger. - -Rose was also reading: - -"... but I have been very ill since my arrival here. Some fever, due, -it may be to the delicious excitement of my heart. A great depression -has been the result and I now feel a most disquieting lassitude. Alas! -the conclusion is sad: we must put off our marriage. It's a infinite -pain to me to write this; but I ask myself when it will be possible? -Will it ever be possible? No, I won't ask that. It would be terrible. -I love you so much! What a happiness it is to walk again with you, in -fancy, through the wood at Robinvast! If I was too audacious, you will -pardon me won't you, because of the violence of my love...." - -There was a lot more in this style, and a less inexperienced woman -than Rose would have felt the artificiality of this amorous eloquence -Not a word of it, certainly, came from the heart. M. Hervart, who was -not cruel, had first laid down the principle of his illness and his -intention was to draw from it, graduating deceptions, all its logical -conclusions. If necessary, he had said to himself, Bouret will help -me. M. Hervart, who was by nature a man of the last moment and the -present sensation, thought of Rose only as one thinks of a sick friend, -for whose recovery one certainly hopes, but without anguish of mind. -However the fatuity inevitable in the male sex assured him that he -was not forgotten: he flattered himself on having left a wound in the -young girl's heart which would never altogether close, and he felt -what was almost remorse. To enjoy the egoist's complete peace, he -would have consented to a sacrifice; he would have allowed Rose, not -forgetfulness, but melancholy resignation. - -"Poor child!... But it had to happen. I hope she won't be too unhappy." - -The perusal of M. Hervart's letter left Rose sad and charmed: - -"Oh, how he loves me! Oh, my darling Xavier, you are ill then?" - -And she thought of the fiancee's cruel fate: - -"He is ill, and mayn't go and console him." - -She was turning towards her father when he rose to meet Leonor. It was -in the presence of the young man and without paying heed to him that -she imparted M. Hervart's news. - -"He is ill, he has had a touch of fever...." - -"Fever?" exclaimed M. Des Boys. - -"Yes, and afterwards he's been feeling very weak after it." - -"Very weak, yes. What then?" - -"What then, why, our marriage has to be postponed...." - -"Of course." - -"I'm very anxious." - -"So I should imagine." - -"Why shouldn't we go and see him?" - -"Do you think it would be any use?" - -"It would give him such pleasure." - -"Does he ask you to do it?" - -"No...." - -"Well, then." - -"He doesn't dare ask." - -"Is he as shy as all that?" - -This innocent question made her blush. - -"I'll speak of it with your mother," M. Des Boys continued. -"Meanwhile, let's get on a little with our architecture." - -Rose had been so bored since Xavier's departure, she had been so -miserable at his long silence, and now she was feeling so anxious that -she accepted her father's proposal without repugnance. - -This time they were dealing with the house, there were urgent repairs -to be made and useful ameliorations. As they went round, the architect -pointed out the weak spots. A whole plan of restoration formed itself -in his head. - -The days passed. The masons were soon at work. Rose hardly left -Leonor's side. - -They had news of M. Hervart more than once through the newspapers, for -his rearrangements at the Louvre had drawn upon him the epigrams of the -press; but he himself remained silent. - -In the circumstances M. Des Boys had resolved to say nothing, to leave -time to do its work. Later on, when no dangerous memories of her past -love remained in Rose's heart, when she should be married, he would -confide her the truth, with a smile. - -One day Leonor let fall, from the top of a ladder, a pocket-book from -which a flood of papers--sketches, bills, letters, picture post-cards ---escaped. Rose picked them up, without giving them more than the -discreetest glance when Martinvast castle caught her eye. At the loot -of the keep she found M. Hervart's "love and kisses." The blood came -suddenly to her eyes; she turned the card over and read: "Mademoiselle -Gratienne Leboeuf, Rue du Havre, Honfleur." She looked up; Leonor did -not seem to have noticed the incident, and with a rapid gesture she -folded up the card and slipped it into her bosom. - -"Monsieur Leonor, you've dropped your pocket-book." - -Leonor descended his ladder and thanked her, while Rose walked away. -When she had disappeared he noticed with delight that she had stolen -Martinvast Castle; then, whistling, he climbed up once more to see his -workmen. - -Arrived in her room, Rose sat down, trembling. - -"I have made a mistake," she said to herself. "It isn't possible. And -how could it have come into Leonor's hands?" - -She extracted the card from its hiding-place, unfolded it and looked at -it, trembling. - -"It's his writing all right." - -She still felt doubtful. - -"What's the date?" - -She deciphered it without difficulty. "Cherbourg, 31 July, 1903." - -"The very day we went to the Liais Garden, the day we went up that -tower where I almost fainted with love.... I was so happy!" - -She began crying. Through her tears she looked at her hands, turning -them, looking at all the fingers one after another. She looked as -though she were rediscovering them, taking possession of them once more. - -Finally she got up and stamped her foot. - -"Very well then, I don't love him any more. There! Good-bye, Monsieur -Hervart. You deceived me, I shall never forgive you. And I had such -confidence in him; I let myself rest so softly on his heart." - -She was still crying. - -"Now, I am ashamed...." - -And she felt her body, from head to feet, as though to take possession -of it also. She would have liked to press it, to wring it so that all -the caresses, all the kisses which had sunk into her skin, penetrated -her veins, thrilled her nerves, might be drained out of it. - -In her already perverted innocence she pictured to herself the mutual -caresses of Xavier and this Gratienne woman. She pictured to herself -this woman's body and compared it with her own. Was she more beautiful? -In what is one woman's body more beautiful than another's? Xavier had -loved to caress her, to crush her in his arms. And used he not to say: -"How beautiful you are!" A vision, against which she struggled in vain, -showed her Xavier kneeling beside Gratienne and covering her with -kisses. - -A heat mounted in her breast, her heart contracted; she tried to cry -out, half got up, clutched at the air with her hands and fell in a -faint. - -When she came to herself, she felt very tired and very frightened as -well. She looked about her, afraid to discover the reality of the -painful vision which had overwhelmed her. Reassured, she breathed -again. - -"It was a dream, only a dream." - -But it seemed as though a spring had suddenly been released in her -heart. Throughout her whole being there was a sudden change. Under her -maiden breast, grief had taken up its home. She felt it as one feels -a piece of gravel in one's shoe. It was something material which had -insinuated itself into the intimacy of her flesh, causing her, not -pain, but a sense of discomfort. - -At the same time, all that she habitually loved seemed to her without -the faintest interest. She looked with an indifferent eye at this -room in which she had dreamt so many dreams, this room that she had -arranged, decorated with so much pleasure, so much minute care, this -cell she had spun and woven herself to sleep in, like a chrysalis, till -the awakening of love should come. The great trees of the wood which -she could see from her window, and could never see without emotion, -appeared to her patches of insignificant greenery: she noticed, for -the first time, that their tops were of uneven height and she was -irritated by it. There was a sound of hammering; she leaned out of the -window and saw two men splitting a block of granite, and for a moment -she wondered what for. - -"Oh, yes, of course, the repairs.... What does it all matter to me? Ah! -where are my dear solitary hours in the old house, imprisoned by its -ivy and climbing roses! And now Leonor! I wish he'd go away. He's the -cause of it all. If it hadn't been for his clumsiness, I should never -have known of the existence of this woman.... But how did he come to -have that card in his pocket?" - -The idea of a voluntary indiscretion did not occur to her. She had -never dreamt that Leonor could feel for her any emotion of tenderness. -Besides, no man except Xavier had yet existed in her imagination. There -was Xavier on the one hand; and on the other there were the others. - -Meanwhile she went on reflecting. Love, jealousy, grief, quickened her -natural intelligence. - -"There were several letters in the pocket-book addressed to M. Varin. -That's natural. But why this card addressed to that woman? He must -know her too. She must have given it to him because of the view of -Martinvast Castle, I suppose...." - -She could not succeed in reconstructing the adventure of this -post-card. There was some mystery about it, which she soon gave up the -hope of solving. - -"But all I have to do is to ask M. Leonor. How simple! But then I shall -have to tell him that I stole his postal card, for I have stolen it! -It's not very serious, perhaps, but how shall I dare talk to him about -it, how shall I, first of all, confess that I had the bad manners to -look at his correspondence? Oh! but a post-card, a picture! And then I -shall tell him the truth? it fell under my eyes by chance, and if the -card had been turned with the address side upwards, I should certainly -not have turned it over...." - -What was most repugnant to her was the necessity of speaking of -Gratienne, for Leonor was not ignorant of her projected marriage with -M. Hervart. She remained undecided, and at once she began to suffer -once more; for her grief had spared her a little while she was engaged -in her deliberations. - -She was so wretched and so tired that when the dinner-bell rang she -went down without thinking of her dress, without refreshing her eyes, -still red and inflamed with crying. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -Leonor was on the watch for the effect of his cure. He saw that evening -that it had succeeded. Rose looked like a shadow, a dolorous shadow. -She forgot to eat, and would sit looking into the void, her hand on -her glass; she did not reply to questions unless they were repeated. -Finally, it was obvious that she had been crying. - -"The remedy has been a painful one," said Leonor to himself. "Will she -bear a grudge against the doctor? Perhaps, but the important thing was -to scratch out the unblemished image stamped on her heart. That has -been done. Across M. Hervart's portrait, in all directions, from top to -bottom, from side to side, there is written now: Gratienne, Gratienne, -Gratienne. - -"Ah, little swallow of the beach, how precious you have been for me! I -will give you a golden necklet to thank, in your person, the supreme -goddess of hearts. Hervart, I envied you once now I am sorry for you. -I despise you too. You had found love, ingenuous and absolute, you had -found in a single being, the child, the mistress and the wife, you -possessed the smile of innocence and the woman's desire--and you have -left it all for Gratienne and her caresses. But no, no invectives; -worthy civil servant, I thank you. Yes, but am I much better? My -Gratienne is a marquise, to be sure, but I have one just the same. No, -I have ceased to have a Gratienne. I shall be loyal. I will fling my -old burden into the sea, and at your feet, sad maiden, I shall kneel, -heart free." - -Nothing happened that evening. Rose preserved her silence, and her -attitude towards Leonor was the same as at other times. But she had -to make a painful effort to preserve her customary amiability. Leonor -wondered, deliberated within himself whether he should speak. Might -he not question her, with a distracted air about the post-card of -Martinvast? "He had thought it was with the other papers, but he -couldn't find it. Perhaps the wind carried it away." - -"No, that would be too direct. She may have suspicions; I shall try to -destroy them. I should be lost if she had certainties. But I have no -doubts. She will come of her own accord, she will speak first. And I -shall look as though I didn't understand; she will have to drag out of -me one by one a few ambiguous words." - -The days passed. Rose remained in the same melancholy state, ruminating -on her grief. Still she did not speak, and Leonor foresaw the moment, -when, his presence being no longer necessary, he would have to take his -leave. The operations on the outside of the house were coming to an -end, the weather had made digging impossible and Rose had decided that -the interior repairs should be put off till the spring. - -Meanwhile Leonor began to suffer in his turn. By living in the same -house as Rose he had felt the love, that had to begin with been -somewhat chimerical, grow and take root within him. From the moment -of their first meeting Rose had aroused in him something like a love -of love. He had first been moved by the generosity of an innocent -heart giving itself with so noble a violence. Next, he had felt that -vague jealousy which all men feel for one another. He had detested M. -Hervart, without being able to keep himself from admiring the spectacle -of his happiness. The desire to supplant him had naturally tormented -Leonor; but it was one of those desires which one feels sure can never -be realised and at which, in lucid moments, one shrugs one's shoulders. -Since chance and his own good management had so much modified the -logical sequence of things to his own profit, Leonor had begun to tell -himself that one should never doubt anything, that anything may happen -and that the impossible is probably the most reasonable thing in the -world. - -In these few weeks he had become more serious than ever, and above all -more calm. His egotism began to be capable of long deviations from -its straight course. He knew very well that Rose, if he hazarded a -confession, would reply with indifference, perhaps with anger. His plan -was to risk a few discreet insinuations on some suitable opportunity. - -"I might," he reflected, "put on the melancholy, disenchanted look -myself. She is ill, and it would be a case of one sick person seeking -some comfort in the eyes of a companion in misfortune.... Comedy! But -would it be so much of a comedy? Have I found in life all that I looked -for? If I had found it, should I be here dreaming of the capture of a -young girl? It's my right, to do that, since I love; all means will be -fair which put the resources of my imagination at the service of my -heart." - -But the opportunity of striking a melancholy, disenchanted attitude -never presented itself. Rose considered him more and more as an -architect, praised his skill in managing the workmen, and paid no -attention to his youth, his cleverness or even to the way he looked at -her--and his glances were often penetrating. There were moments when he -became discouraged. The memory of Hortense came back to him. They had -exchanged a few anodyne letters. She called him to her, but in a weak -voice, and it was in uncertain terms that he announced his next visit. - -"Dying love is always melancholy," he thought. "The poem would have -been beautiful if we had said good-bye after Compiegne. We tried to add -a verse, and it has been a failure. It's a pity. But what will become -of her? I still feel some curiosity about her." - -At other moments he pictured to himself Gratienne and the elegant -manner of her posturing; that roused him for a time. But the image of -M. Hervart would seem to come and mingle with that of this agreeable -young woman, and the charm would be broken. - -Rose's arrival would dispel all these visions. He took a great delight -in seeing her walk, enjoying, though with no idea of libertinage, the -grace of her movements. - -Leonor's departure had already been spoken of. One rainy afternoon, -Rose decided to speak. She did it very seriously, without attempting -to dissimulate her unhappiness. Between the two there followed a -conversation which took the tone of friendly confidences. - -After long hesitation she put the question for which Leonor had been -waiting with so much anxiety. He had forged several anecdotes with -which Rose would doubtless have been satisfied; but when the moment -came, rather than hesitate and risk inevitable contradictions, he -suddenly decided on a certain degree of frankness. - -He said: "The card fell into my hands because I myself have also been -entertained by this person. M. Hervart, I must tell you, was not there; -he did not know and she shall certainly never know. I had no idea -myself that he was the intimate friend of the house. That was why his -name struck me, appended as it was to 'best love.'" - -"It was 'love and kisses.'" - -"Of course, I remember now." And he repeated, with an intonation that -aggravated the words, and stamped them on the young girl's bruised -heart: "Yes, 'love and kisses.' There were a number of picture -post-cards addressed to the same person; there were many signed with the -same name or an abbreviation: H., Her., Herv. I was bold enough to take -one as a souvenir of my visit. And then ... and then.... May I say it, -Mademoiselle?" - -"Say what you like. Nothing can hurt me any more now." - -"Very well; I got hold of this card dishonestly, perhaps, but it was -because I was thinking of you.... I was thinking that the man to whom -you had just given your hand loved another woman and publicly admitted -his love for her. That seemed to me bad; I suffered for you--you whose -delicate and generous feelings I had guessed.... Yes, that distressed -me and my idea was, by stealing this proof of a wrong action, to let -you know of it, if circumstances allowed me." - -"Then you dropped your pocket-book on purpose?" - -"I confess. I did. And if that method had failed, I should have tried -to find another." - -"You hurt me a great deal. All the same, I am grateful to you." - -She held out her hand; Leonor pressed it respectfully. - -"I have given you less pain now than you would have felt later on. It -would have been irremediable then." - -"Who knows? I might perhaps have forgiven him afterwards. I shall not -forgive before." - -"I know M. Hervart fairly well," said Leonor, in a slightly -hypocritical voice, "but I know that, despite his age, he is -capricious. M. Lanfranc is a spiteful gossip and I won't repeat all -he told me. I know enough, and from certain sources, to make me -congratulate myself on what is perhaps an audacious intervention." - -"And what about my father? He has agreed to our marriage." - -"Your father lives a long way from Paris. He is kind and trustful. No -doubt his friend promised him to make you happy, and he believed him." - -"I believed him too. Alas! he had begun to make me happy already." - -"Oh! his intentions weren't bad. M. Hervart is not a bad man. He is -fickle, inconstant, irresolute." - -"I see that only too clearly." - -"He's an egoist. All men are egoists, for that matter, but there are -degrees. Is he capable of loving a woman whole-heartedly, capable of -consecrating his life to weaving daily joys for her? And yet what could -be a more perfect dream, when one meets in his path a creature who is -worthy of it, one who draws to herself not only love but adoration!" - -"I suppose that women like that are rare." - -"Those who have known one and desert her are very guilty." - -"Say rather that they are very much to be pitied. But not being one of -these women, I didn't ask so much." - -"You don't know yourself, Mademoiselle. Oh! if only I had been in M. -Hervart's place." - -"What would have happened?" asked Rose, without the least emotion, -without even the least curiosity. - -"How I should have loved you!" - -"But he loved me a great deal." - -"He didn't love you as you should be loved." - -"I don't know. How should I know these things? I believed, that was -all. I believed in him." - -"He was not worthy of you." - -"Perhaps it was I who was unworthy of him, since he loves me no more." - -"Unworthy of him, you? Don't you know, then, what this woman is?" - -"No, and I don't want to know. Oh! I'm not jealous. I'm humiliated. I -feel as though I had been beaten. Jealous? No. I have stopped loving -and I shall never love again." - -"Don't say that." - -"Love doesn't come twice." - -"But if one is unhappy the first time?" - -"One remains unhappy." - -"Happiness always has to be looked for. When one looks for it one finds -it." - -"Happiness falls from heaven one day; then it goes up again and never -descends any more." - -"Don't say that. You will be happy." - -"It's finished." - -"You will be happy as soon as you meet some one you really love with -all the force of an ardent and devoted heart." - -"Don't let's speak of these things. It hurts me." - -"I obey you. I will be silent, but not before telling you that that -heart is mine." - -Rose looked at him with astonished eyes. She seemed not to understand. -Leonor, very much moved, got up, walked towards her and said, in a -whisper: - -"Rose, I love you." - -At these words, Rose started, and when Leonor tried to take her hand, -she got up and ran away, crying: - -"No, no, no, no." - -"How stupid I've been," Leonor said to himself, when he was alone. -"Does one declare one's love like this? Here am I on a level with the -lowest heroes of novels. Think of declaring one's love, saying, 'I am -hot,' to a woman who is cold. What does it mean to her? Words possess -eloquence when the ears expect them. If not, they ring false. They only -incline hearts which have already abdicated their will." - -Leonor was very sincerely in love with Rose; hence he was very unhappy. -He imagined, moreover, that M. Hervart was already completely pardoned. -Rose was only awaiting some act of humility to give herself to him -again. - -"She is hurt in her pride. Her heart is happy, if happiness consists -in loving much more than in being loved. It is a painful pleasure, but -none the less a pleasure, for her to talk of M. Hervart...." - -That evening Leonor had no difficulty in putting on a melancholy and -disenchanted look. He felt these two emotions to perfection, and Rose, -who could not help looking at him, noticed it. - -"Can he really be in love with me," she wondered, "----he?" - -The next morning, when she woke up, she asked herself the same -dangerous question. Then suddenly, a wave of red mounted to her head. -She had just remembered all the amusements into which her own innocence -and M. Hervart's perverse good-nature had led her. - -"I am dishonoured," she said to herself. "Am I a maiden?" - -This was the first time that she had felt any shame in calling to mind -the kisses and caresses in which her heart, rather than her body, had -felt pleasure. Though she was unconscious of the transference, the pain -which she still felt had, without changing its nature, changed its -cause. - -When Leonor said good-morning she felt herself blushing and immediately -turned her head, to discover an imaginary piece of thread on her skirt. - -"So it's to-morrow that we shall have to drive you back," said M. Des -Boys. - -"If the garden isn't arranged before the winter," said Rose, "we shall -have to wait till next autumn." - -"Obviously," said Leonor; "one can't transplant in the spring. At -least, it's a most delicate operation." - -"Well, then, stay and let's finish it off," said M. Des Boys. - -Leonor stayed. - -"Since I have made a declaration and it has been successful, I shall -now pay my addresses. Can it be that the old methods are the best?" - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - -In those last autumn days, under the rain of dead leaves, they enjoyed -delicious hours. Leonor lived attentively, taking care that no -single word of his might shock the young girl. Rose, her eyes always -sad, answered with cordial politeness. Their words were measured, -insignificant, but they were uttered in a voice full of a secret -emotion. - -They directed the alterations together, giving no orders without -consulting one another; and they were soon agreed about everything, for -their only desire was to stand together looking at the workmen. They -confined themselves to cutting a few useful paths, transplanting a few -bushes and arranging the lawns and flower-beds. - -The decisive gestures in life are almost always the simplest, the most -ingenuous. Discovering a few sprigs of violet under a wall, picking -them, offering them to her: that was the act which won for Leonor his -first smile from the girl, a smile that was still vague, a smile in -which the soul, so long solicited, showed itself for an instant, as -though at a window visited at last by the sun. - -One day, while they were holding a lilac that was being transplanted, -their hands met. Rose withdrew hers without affectation, but a little -later she approached it once more and perhaps that tree, as it was -wrenched from the earth, felt a thrill of love passing through its -sleeping trunk. - -Leonor thought of nothing but the charm of his present life; he -analysed himself no more; he made no plots or projects; he breathed -pure air, he was opening out. - -Though less wretched, Rose still suffered. One evening, when she was -undressing to go to bed, she called to mind all the liberties she had -permitted. No detail was spared her, and it was in vain that her body -revolted; along her nerves she felt the now shameful shudder of her -former voluptuousness. She threw herself into her bed and soon, in the -warmth, the imaginary contacts grew more numerous and precise. Then, -losing her head, she yielded and went to sleep in a trance of pleasure. - -Accordingly, in the mornings, she was apt to be a little peevish. -Leonor seemed, at these moments, to lose all he had gained in the -afternoons; but he was not disturbed by it. He knew that characters -change according to the time of day, as they change according to the -season. Happy in being able to hope for everything, he waited without -impatience. Exorcising Rose demanded a whole morning of Leonor's -company. The sound of his voice, rather than his words, calmed her -possessed spirit. She would end by doubting the very existence of the -spell from which she had been released and, by the time lunch was over, -she was a child smiling at love. - -Some evenings the crisis was very intense. Hardly had she entered her -room when she seemed to receive a kind of imperious injunction to look -at herself in the glass. Standing there, she would press her shoulders -feverishly. Then she felt herself lifted up and carried to her bed, at -the mercy of the demon of love. At other times the obsession was less -malignant and she was able to attempt some resistance. The fall was -slow, gradual and sometimes incomplete. She noticed that she had more -peace and more strength on the evenings when she had, by her attitude, -encouraged Leonor to make some tenderer utterance, and that fact caused -her great joy. For she loved her exorcist; like a sick woman full of -confidence, she loved her doctor. - -Now she appeared more humble and at the same time almost provocative. -She allowed her eyes to rest more often and for a longer time on the -young man's face. She even came to studying his face when he was -looking, and, though she dropped her eyes quickly at the first alarm, -Leonor noticed it. - -"She loves me, she loves me. Ah! this time she will listen to me, and -perhaps she will speak." - -But, by dint of loving innocently, Leonor had become shy; and several -days passed in the motions of the eyes and heart. Rose derived great -consolation from them. One evening, when the obsession had almost left -her in peace and she was about to go to sleep victorious, she suddenly -saw herself once more in the drawing room. Leonor was offering her a -marvellous flower of a kind she did not recognise. She took it and when -she smelt it felt an inexpressible sweetness slowly penetrate her whole -being; she was asleep. - -She awoke full of joy, a thing that had not happened since the day -of her great grief. She was smiling at Leonor before she had even -seen him. They met on the stairs. Leonor heard a door slam, the sound -of hurrying feet. He drew back to make passage room. It was Rose. -Playfully, as she had already allowed him to do, he made as though to -bar her way. - -"You shan't pass," he said. - -"Very well, I won't pass." - -And she fell into the open arms that closed at once round her body--a -happy prisoner. - -"Do you love me, then? At last?" - -"Yes, I love you." - -Rose never once remembered that it was thus she had fallen into M. -Hervart's arms in the staircase of the tower. She forgot in its -entirety the first adventure of her poor abused heart and her troubled -senses. When M. Hervart's name was pronounced in her presence, it -recalled to her those studious walks at Robinvast with that old friend -of her father's who told her the anecdotes of entomology. - -M. Des Boys, as he had resolved, revealed to his daughter what he -called the misfortunes of M. Hervart. And so, when she heard that -he was to marry Mme. Suif, she allowed herself an honest smile of -commiseration. That happened in the third year of their marriage; they -were spending the season at Grandcamp, where, without knowing her, she -often rubbed shoulders with a young woman who had played a decisive -part in her history. - -Leonor was wandering one morning on this same beach where Gratienne had -attracted him; but he was not thinking of Gratienne, who as it happened -was looking at him, from a distance, with interest. He was thinking of -Hortense, of whose death he had seen the announcement in a local paper; -of Hortense, who had written him, on the eve of his marriage, a letter -so moving in its proud resignation that it had almost made him weep; -of Hortense whom he had loved and who perhaps had died because of his -happiness. - -When he came back, Rose received him as a lover is received. She had -found in marriage the attentions which her nature demanded. She was -happy. - - -THE END - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Virgin Heart, by Remy de Gourmont - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A VIRGIN HEART *** - -***** This file should be named 44384.txt or 44384.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/3/8/44384/ - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at http://www.freeliterature.org -(Images generously made available by the Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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