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diff --git a/old/54686-h/54686-h.htm b/old/54686-h/54686-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index bff2d7b..0000000 --- a/old/54686-h/54686-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,22134 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" -"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<head> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> -<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Piping Hot!, by Émile Zola</title> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> -<style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - -body { margin-left: 20%; - margin-right: 20%; - text-align: justify; } - -h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: -normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} - -h1 {font-size: 300%; - margin-top: 0.6em; - margin-bottom: 0.6em; - letter-spacing: 0.12em; - word-spacing: 0.2em; - text-indent: 0em;} -h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} -h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} -h4 {font-size: 120%;} -h5 {font-size: 110%;} - -.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} - -hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} - -p {text-indent: 1em; - margin-top: 0.25em; - margin-bottom: 0.25em; } - -p.poem {text-indent: 0%; - margin-left: 10%; - font-size: 90%; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; } - -div.fig { display:block; - margin:0 auto; - text-align:center; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em;} - -p.pfirst {text-indent: 0} - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } - -a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} -a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} -a:hover {color:red} - -</style> -</head> -<body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Piping Hot!, by Émile Zola</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Piping Hot!<br /> -Pot-Bouille, A Realistic Novel</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Émile Zola</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Commentator: George Moore</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Georges Bellenger</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: May 8, 2017 [eBook #54686]<br /> -[Most recently updated: August 7, 2021]</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: David Widger</div> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PIPING HOT! ***</div> - -<h1> -PIPING HOT! -</h1> - -<h3> -(<i>POT-BOUILLE</i>) -</h3> - -<h3> -A Realistic Novel -</h3> - -<h2 class="no-break"> -By Émile Zola. -</h2> - -<h4> -Translated From The 63rd French Edition. -</h4> - -<h4> -<i>Illustrated With Sixteen Page Engravings</i> -</h4> - -<h3> -From Designs By Georges Bellenger -</h3> - -<h4> -London: Vizetelly & Co. -</h4> - -<h3> -1887. -</h3> - -<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> -<img src="images/0010.jpg" alt="0010 " width="100%" /> -</div> - -<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> -<img src="images/0015.jpg" alt="0015 " width="100%" /> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p> -<b>CONTENTS</b> -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE. </a> -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>PIPING-HOT!</b> </a> -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> -</p> - -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> </a> -PREFACE. -</h2> - -<p> -One day, in the middle of a long literary conversation, Théodore Duret -said to me: “I have known in my life two men of supreme intelligence. I -knew of both before the world knew of either. Never did I doubt, nor was -it possible to doubt, but that they would one day or other gain the -highest distinctions—those men were Léon Gambetta and Émile Zola.” -</p> - -<p> -Of Zola I am able to speak, and I can thoroughly realise how interesting -it must have been to have watched him, at that time, when he was poor and -unknown, obtaining acceptance of his articles with difficulty, and -surrounded by the feeble and trivial in spirit, who, out of inborn -ignorance and acquired idiocy, look with ridicule on those who believe -that there is still a new word to say, still a new cry to cry. -</p> - -<p> -I did not know Émile Zola in those days, but he must have been then as he -is now, and I should find it difficult to understand how any man of -average discrimination could speak with him for half-an-hour without -recognising that he was one of those mighty monumental intelligences, the -statues of a century, that remain and are gazed upon through the long -pages of the world’s history. This, at least, is the impression Émile Zola -has always produced upon me. I have seen him in company, and company of no -mean order, and when pitted against his compeers, the contrast has only -made him appear grander, greater, nobler. The witty, the clever Alphonse -Daudet, ever as ready for a supper party as a literary discussion, with -all his splendid gifts, can do no more when Zola speaks than shelter -himself behind an epigram; Edmond De Goncourt, aristocratic, dignified, -seated amid his Japanese watercolours, bronzes, and Louis XV. furniture, -bitterly admits, if not that there is a greater naturalistic god than he, -at least that there is a colossus whose strength he is unable to oppose. -</p> - -<p> -This is the position Émile Zola takes amid his contemporaries. -</p> - -<p> -By some strange power of assimilation, he appropriates and makes his own -of all things; ideas that before were spattered, dislocated, are suddenly -united, fitted into their places. In speaking, as in writing, he always -appears greater than his subject, and, Titan-like, grasps it as a whole; -in speaking, as in writing, the strength and beauty of his style is an -unfailing use of the right word; each phrase is a solid piece of masonry, -and as he talks an edifice of thought rises architecturally perfect and -complete in design. -</p> - -<p> -And it is of this side of Émile Zola’s genius that I wish particularly to -speak—a side that has never been taken sufficiently into -consideration, but which, nevertheless, is its ever-guiding and -determinating quality. Émile Zola is to me a great epic poet, and he may -be, I think, not inappropriately termed the Homer of modern life. For he, -more than any other writer, it seems, possesses the power of seeing a -subject as a whole, can divest it at will of all side issues, can seize -with a firm, logical comprehension on the main lines of its construction, -and that without losing sight of the remotest causes or the furthest -consequences of its existence. It is here that his strength lies, and his -is the strength which has conquered the world. Of his realism a great -deal, of course, has been said, but only because it is the most obvious, -not the most dominant quality of his work. The mistletoe invariably hides -the oak from the eyes of the vulgar. -</p> - -<p> -That Émile Zola has done well to characterise his creations with the vivid -sentiment of modern life rather than the pale dream which reveals to us -the past, that he was able to bend, to model, to make serviceable to his -purpose the ephemeral habits and customs of our day, few will now deny. -But this was only the off-shoot of his genius. That the colour of the -nineteenth century with which he clothes the bodies of his heroes and -heroines is not always exact, that none other has attempted to spin these -garments before, I do not dispute. They will grow threadbare and fall to -dust, even as the hide of the megatharium, of which only the colossal -bones now remain to us wherewith to construct the fabric of the primeval -world. And, in like manner, when the dream of the socialist is realized, -when the burden of pleasure and work is proportioned out equally to all, -and men live on a more strictly regulated plan than do either the ant or -the bee, I believe that the gigantic skeleton of the Rougon-Macquart -family will still continue to resist the ravages of time, and that western -scientists will refer to it when disputing about the idiosyncrasies of a -past civilization. -</p> - -<p> -In the preceding paragraph, I have said neither more nor less than my -meaning, for I am convinced that the living history of no age has been as -well written as the last half of the nineteenth century is in the -Rougon-Maequart series. I pass over the question whether, in describing -Renée’s dress, a mistake was made in the price of lace, also whether the -author was wrong in permitting himself the anachronism of describing a -fête in the opera-house a couple of years before the building was -completed. Errors of this kind do not appear to me to be worth -considering. What I maintain is, that what Émile Zola has done, and what -he alone has done—and I do not make an exception even in the case of -the mighty Balzac—is to have conceived and constructed the -frame-work of a complex civilization like ours, in all its worse -ramifications. Never, it seems to me, was the existence of the epic -faculty more amply demonstrated than by the genealogical tree of this now -celebrated family. -</p> - -<p> -The grandeur, the amplitude of this scheme will be seen at once. Adélaïde -Fouque, a mad woman confined in a lunatic asylum at Plassans, is the first -ancestor; she is the transmitter of the original neurosis, which, -regulated by his or her physical constitution, assumes various forms in -each individual member of the family, and is developed according to the -surroundings in whieh he or she lives. By Rougon this woman had two -children; by Macquart, with whom she cohabited on the death of her -husband, she had three. Ursule Macquart married a man named Mouret, and -their children are therefore cousins of the Rougon-Macquarts. This family -has some forty or fifty members, who are distributed through the different -grades of our social system. Some have attained the highest positions, as, -Son Excellence Eugène Rougon, others have sunk to the lowest depths, as -Gervaise in “L’Assommoir,” but all are tainted with the hereditary malady. -By it Nana is invincibly driven to prostitution; by it Etienne Lantier, in -“Germinal,” will be driven to crime; by it his brother, Claude, will be -made a great painter. Protean-like is this disease. Sometimes it skips -over a generation, sometimes lies almost latent, and the balance of the -intelligence is but slightly disturbed, as in the instance of Octave in -“Pot-Bouille,” and Lazare in “La Joie de Vivre.” But the mind of the -latter is more distorted than is Octave’s. Lazare lives in a perpetual -fear of death, and is prevented from realizing any of his magnificent -projects by his vacillating temperament; in him we have an example how a -splendid intelligence may be drained away like water through an -imperceptible crack in the vase, and how what might have been the fruit of -a life withers like the flowers from which the nourishing liquid has been -withdrawn. -</p> - -<p> -And so in the Rougon-Macquart series we have instances of all kinds of -psychical development and decay; and with an overt and an intuitive -reading of character truly wonderful, Émile Zola makes us feel that as the -north and south poles and torrid zones are hemmed about with a girdle of -air, so an ever varying but ever recognisable kinship unites, sometimes, -indeed, by an almost imperceptible thread, the ends the most opposed of -this remarkable race, and is diffused through the different variation each -individual member successively presents. Can we not trace a mysterious -physical resemblance between Octave Mouret in “Le Bonheur des Dames” and -Maxime in “La Curée?” Is not the moral something by which Claude Lantier -in “Le Ventre de Paris” escapes the fate of Lazare made apparent? Then, -again, does not the inherited neurosis that makes of Octave a millionaire, -of Lazare a wretched hypochondriac, of Claude Lantier a genius, of Maxime -a symbol of ephemeral vice, reappear in a new and more deadly form in -Jeanne, the hysterical child, in that most beautiful of beautiful books, -“Une Page d’Amour?” -</p> - -<p> -As beasts at a fair are urged on by the goads of their drivers, so certain -fate pushes this wretched family forward into irrevocable death that is -awaiting it. At each generation they grow more nervous, more worn out, -more ready to succumb beneath the ravages of the horrible disease that in -a hundred different ways is sweeping them into the night of the grave. -</p> - -<p> -Even from this imperfect outline, what majesty, what grandeur there is in -this dark design! Does not the great idea of fate receive a new and more -terrible signification? Is not the horror and gloom of the tragedy -increased by the fact that the thought was born in the study of the -scientist, and not in the cloud-palace of the dreamer? What poet ever -conceived an idea more vast! and if further proof of the epic faculty with -which I have credited Émile Zola be wanting, I have only to refer to -Pascal Rougon. Noah survived the deluge. Pascal Rougon, by some miracle, -escapes the inherited stain—he, and he alone, is completely free -from it He is a doctor, an advanced scientist, and he, in the twentieth -volume, will analyse the terrible neurosis that has devastated his family. -</p> - -<p> -In the upbuilding of this enormous edifice, Émile Zola shows the same -constructive talent as he did in its conception. The energy he displays is -marvellous. Every year a wing, courtyard, cupola, or tower is added, and -each is as varied as the most imaginative could desire. Without looking -further back than “L’Assommoir,” let us consider what has been done. In -this work, we have a study of the life of the working people in Paris, -written, for the sake of preserving the “milieu,” for the most part in -their own language. It shows how the workers of our great social machine -live, and must live, in ignorance and misery; it shows, as never was shown -before, what the accident of birth means; it shows in a new way, and, to -my mind, in as grand a way as did the laments of the chorus in the Greek -play, the irrevocability of fate. “L’Assommoir” was followed by “Une Page -d’Amour,” a beautiful Parisian idyl. Here we see the “bourgeois” at their -best. We have seven descriptions of Paris seen from a distance of which -Turner might be proud; we have a picture of a children’s costume ball -which Meissonier might fall down and worship; we have the portrait of a -beautiful and virtuous woman with her love story told, as it were, over -the dying head of Jeanne (her little girl), the child whose nervous -sensibilities are so delicate that she trembles with jealousy when she -suspects that behind her back her mother is looking at the doctor. After -“Une Page d’Amour” comes “Nana,” and with her we are transported to a -world of pleasure-seekers; vicious men and women who have no thought but -the killing of time and the gratification of their lusts. Nana is the -Messaline of modern days, and, obeying the epic tendency of his genius, -Émile Zola has instituted a comparison between the death of the “gilded -fly,” conceived in drunkenness and debauchery, and the harlot city of the -third Emperor, which, rotten with vice, falls before the victorious arms -of the Germans. -</p> - -<p> -“Nana” and “Une Page d’Amour” are psychological and philological studies -of two radically different types of women; in both works, and likewise in -“L’Assommoir,” there is much descriptive writing, and, doubtless, Émile -Zola had this fact present in his mind when he set himself to write -“Pot-Bouille,” that terrible satire on the “bourgeoisie.” He must have -said, as his plan formulated itself in his mind, “this is a novel dealing -with the home-life of the middle-classes; if I wish to avoid repeating -myself, this book must contain a vast number of characters, and the -descriptions must be reduced to a bare sufficiency, no more than will -allow my readers to form an exact impression of the surroundings through -which, the action passes.” -</p> - -<p> -“Pot-Bouille,” or “Piping Hot!” as the present translation is called, is, -therefore, an inquiry into the private lives of a number of individuals, -who, while they follow different occupations, belong to the same class and -live under the same roof. The house in the Rue de Choiseul is one of those -immense “maisons bourgeoises,” in which, apparently, an infinite number of -people live. On the first floor, we find Monsieur Duveyrier, an “avocat de -la cour,” with his musical wife, Clotilde, and her father, Monsieur Vabre, -a retired notary and proprietor of the house, who is absorbed in the -preparation of an important statistical work; on the fourth floor are -Madame Josserand, her two daughters, whom she is always trying to marry, -her crazy son Saturnin, and her husband who spends his nights addressing -advertising circulars at three francs a thousand, in order to eke out an -additional something to help his family to ape an appearance of easy -circumstances. On the third floor is an architect, Monsieur Campardon, -with his ailing, yet blooming, wife Rose, and her cousin, “l’autre Madame -Campardon.” There is also one of Monsieur Vabre’s sons, and “a -distinguished gentleman who comes one night a week to work.” -</p> - -<p> -These are the principal “locataires” but, in various odd corners, “des -petits appartements qui donnent sur la cour,” we find all sorts and -conditions of people. First on the list is the government clerk Jules and -his wife Marie. She is a weak-minded little thing who commits adultery -without affection, without desire, and the frequency of her confinements -excites the ire of her mother and father. Then come two young men, Octave -and Trublot. The former plays a part similar to that of a tenor in an -opera; he is the accepted lover of the ladies. The latter is equally -beloved by the maids. From the frequency of his visits, he may almost be -said to live in the house; he is constantly asked to dine by one or other -of the inmates, and in the morning he is generally found hiding behind the -door of one of the servants’ rooms, waiting for an opportunity of -descending the staircase unperceived by the terrible “concierge,” the -moral guardian of the house. -</p> - -<p> -Other visitors who figure prominently in the story are Madame Josserand’s -brother, Uncle Bachelard, a dissipated widower, and his nephew Gueulin; -the Abbé Mouret, ever ready to throw the mantle of religion over the -back-slidings of his flock, and Madame Hédouin, the frigid directress of -“The Ladies’ Paradise,” where Octave is originally engaged. The remaining -“locataires” are Madame Juzeur, a lady who only reads poetry, and who was -deserted by her husband after a single week of matrimonial, bliss; a -workwoman who has a garret under the slates; and last, but not least, an -author who lives on the second floor. He is rarely ever seen, he makes no -one’s acquaintance, and thereby excites the enmity of everyone. -</p> - -<p> -All these, the author of course excepted, pass and repass before the -reader, and each is at once individual and representative; even the -maid-servants—who only answer “yes” and “no” to their masters and -mistresses—are adroitly characterised. We see them in their kitchens -engaged in their daily occupations: while peeling onions and gutting -rabbits and fish they call to and abuse each other from window to window. -There is Julie, the belle of the attics, of whose perfume and pomatum -Trublot makes liberal use when he honours her with a visit; there is fat -Adèle whose dirty habits and slovenly ways make of her a butt whereat is -levelled the ridicule and scorn of her fellow-servants; there are the -lovers, Hippolyte and Clémence, whose carnal intercourse affords to Madame -Duveyrier much ground for uneasiness, and in the end necessitates the -intervention of the Abbé. Never were the manners and morals of servants so -thoroughly sifted before, never was the relationship which their lives -bear to those of their masters and mistresses so cunningly contrasted. The -courtyard of the house echoes with their quarrelling voices, and it is -there, in a scene of which Swift might be proud, that is spoken the last -and terrible word of scorn which Émile Zola flings against the -“bourgeoisie.” From her kitchen window a fellow-servant of Julie’s is -congratulating her on being about to leave, and wishing that she may find -a better place. To which Julie replies, “Toutes les baraques se -ressemblent. Au jour d’aujourd’hui, qui a fait l’une a fait l’autre. C’est -cochon et compagnie.” -</p> - -<p> -I do not know to what other work to go to find so much successful -sketching of character. I had better, I think, explain the meaning I -attach to this phrase, “sketching of character,” for it is too common an -error to associate the idea of superficiality with the word “sketch.” The -true artist never allows anything to leave his studio that he deems -superficial, or even unfinished. The word unfinished is not found in his -vocabulary; to him a sketch is as complete as a finished picture. In the -former he has painted broadly and freely, wishing to render the vividness, -the vitality of a first impression; in the latter he is anxious to render -the subtlety of a more intellectual and consequently a less sensual -emotion. The portrait of Madame Josserand is a case in point, it is -certainly less minute than that of Hélène Mouret, but is not for that less -finished. In both, the artist has achieved, and perfectly, the task he set -himself. “Piping Hot!” cannot be better defined than as a portrait album -in which many of our French neighbours may be readily recognized. -</p> - -<p> -This merit will not fail to strike any intelligent reader; but the -marvellous way the almost insurmountable difficulties of binding together -the stories of the lives of the different inhabitants of the house in the -Rue de Choiseul are overcome, none but a fellow-worker will be able to -appreciate at their full value. Up and down the famous staircase we go, -from one household to another, interested equally in each, disgusted -equally with all. And this sentence leads us right up to the enemies’ -guns, brings us face to face with the two batteries from which the critics -have directed their fire. The first is the truthfulness of the picture, -the second is the coarseness with which it is painted. I will attempt to -reply to both. -</p> - -<p> -M. Albert Wolff in the “Figaro” declared that in a “maison bourgeoise” so -far were “locataires” from being all on visiting terms, that it was of -constant occurrence that the people on one floor not only did not know by -sight but were ignorant of the names of those living above and below them; -that the spectacle of a “maison bourgeoise,” with the lodgers running up -and down stairs in and out of each other’s apartments at all hours of the -night and day, was absolutely false; had never existed in Paris, and was -an invention of the writer. Without a word of parley I admit the truth of -this indictment. I will admit that no house could be found in Paris where -from basement to attic the inhabitants are on such terms of intimacy as -they are in the house in the Rue de Choiseul; but at the same time I deny -that the extreme isolation described by M. Wolff could be found or is even -possible in any house inhabited over a term of years by the same people. -Émile Zola has then done no more than to exaggerate, to draw the strings -that attach the different parts a little tighter than they would be in -nature. Art, let there be no mistake on this point, be it romantic or -naturalistic, is a perpetual concession; and the character of the artist -is determined by the selection he makes amid the mass of conflicting -issues that, all clamouring equally to be chosen, present themselves to -his mind. In the case of Émile Zola, the epic faculty which has been -already mentioned as the dominant trait of his genius naturally impelled -him to make too perfect a whole of the heterogeneous mass of material that -he had determined to construct from. The flaw is more obvious than in his -other works, but in “Piping Hot!” he has only done what he has done since -he first put pen to paper, what he will continue to do till he ceases to -write. We will admit that to make all the people living in the house in -the Rue de Choiseul on visiting terms was a trick of composition—<i>et -puis?</i> -</p> - -<p> -This was the point from which the critics who pretended to be guided by -artistic considerations attacked the book; the others entrenched -themselves behind the good old earthworks of morality, and primed their -rusty popguns. Now there was a time, and a very good time it must have -been, when a book was judged on its literary merits; but of late years a -new school of criticism has come into fashion. Its manners are very -summary indeed. “Would you or would you not give that book to your sister -of sixteen to read?” If you hesitate you are lost; for then the question -is dismissed with a smile and you are voted out of court. It would be vain -to suggest that there are other people in the world besides your sister of -sixteen summers. -</p> - -<p> -I do not intend putting forward any well known paradox, that art is -morals, and morals are art. That there are great and eternal moral laws -which must be acted up to in art as in life I am more than ready to admit; -but these are very different from the wretched conventionalities which -have been arbitrarily imposed upon us in England. To begin with, it must -be clear to the meanest intelligence that it would never do to judge the -dead by the same standard as the living. If that were done, all the -dramatists of the sixteenth century would have to go; those of the -Restoration would follow. To burn Swift somebody lower in the social scale -than Mr. Binns would have to be found, although he might do to commit -Sterne to the flames. Byron, Shelley, yes, even Landor would have to go -the same way. What would happen then, it is hard to-say; but it is not -unfair to hint that if the burning were argued to its logical conclusion, -some of the extra good people would find it difficult to show reason, if -the intention of the author were not taken into account, why their most -favourite reading should be saved from the general destruction. -</p> - -<p> -Many writers have lately been trying to put their readers in the -possession of infallible recipes for the production of good fiction; they -would, to my mind, have employed their time and talents to far more -purpose had they come boldly to the point and stated that the overflow of -bad fiction with which we are inundated is owing to the influence of the -circulating library, which, on one side, sustains a quantity of worthless -writers who on their own merits would not sell a dozen copies of their -books; and, on the other, deprives those who have something to say and are -eager to say it of the liberty of doing so. It may be a sad fact, but it -is nevertheless a fact, that literature and young girls are irreconcilable -elements, and the sooner we leave off trying to reconcile them the better. -At this vain endeavour the circulating library has been at work for the -last twenty years, and what has been the result? A literature of -bandboxes. Were Pope, Addison, Johnson, Fielding, Smollet, suddenly raised -from their graves and started on reviewing “three vols.,” think you that -they would not all cry together, “This is a literature of bandboxes?” -</p> - -<p> -We judge a pudding by the eating, and I judge Messrs. Mudie and Smith by -what they have produced; for they, not the ladies and gentlemen who place -their names on the title pages, are the authors of our fiction. And what a -terrible brood to admit the parentage of! Let those who doubt put aside -pre-conceived opinions, and forgetting the bolstered up reputation of the -authors, read the volumes by the light of a little common sense. Cast a -glance at those that lie in Miss Rhoda Broughton’s lap. What a wheezing, -drivelling lot of bairns they are! They have not a virtue amongst them, -and their pinafore pages are sticky with childish sensualities. -</p> - -<p> -And here we touch the keynote of the whole system. For, mark you, you can -say what you like provided you speak according to rule. Everything is -agreed according to precedent. I could give a hundred instances, but one -will suffice. On the publication of “Adam Bede” a howl was raised, but the -book was alive; it finished by being accepted, and the libraries were -obliged to give way. The employment of seduction in the fabulation of a -story was therefore established. This would have been a great point -gained, if Mr. Mudie had not succeeded in forcing on all succeeding -writers George Eliot’s manner of conducting her story. In “Adam Bede” we -have Hetty described as an extremely fascinating dairymaid and Arthur as a -noble-minded young man. After a good deal of flirtation they are shown to -us walking through a wood together, and three months after we hear that -Hetty is <i>enceinte</i>. Now, ever since the success of this book was -assured, we have had numberless novels dealing with seductions, but -invariably an interval of three months is allowed wherein the reader’s -fancy may disport until the truth be told. -</p> - -<p> -Not being a select librarian I will not undertake to say that the cause of -morality is advanced by leaving the occurrence of the offence unmarked by -a no more precise date than that of three months, but being a writer who -loves and believes in his art, I fearlessly declare that such quibblery is -not worthy of the consideration of serious men; and it was to break -through this puerile conventionality that I was daring enough in my -“Mummer’s Wife” to write that Dick dragged Kate into the room and that the -door was slammed behind her. And it is on this passage that the select -circulating libraries base a refusal to take the book. And it is such -illiterate censorship that has thrown English fiction into the abyss of -nonsense in which it lies; it is for this reason and no other that the -writers of the present day have ceased even to try to produce good work, -and have resigned themselves to the task of turning out their humdrum -stories of sentimental misunderstanding. Yet, strange to say, in every -other department of art, an unceasing intellectual activity prevails. Our -poetry, our histories, our biographies, our newspapers are strong and -vigorous, pregnant with thought, trenchant in style; it is not until we -turn to the novel that we find a wearisome absence of everything but -drivel. -</p> - -<p> -Though much that I would like to have said is still unsaid, the exigencies -of space compel me to bring this notice to a close. However, this one -thing I hope I have made clear: that it is my firm opinion that if fiction -is to exist at all, the right to speak as he pleases on politics, morals, -and religion must be granted to the writer, and that he on his side must -take cognizance of other readers than sentimental young girls, who require -to be provided with harmless occupation until something fresh turns up in -the matrimonial market. Therefore the great literary battle of our day is -not to be fought for either realism or romanticism, but for freedom of -speech; and until that battle be gained I, for one, will continue -fearlessly to hold out a hand of welcome to all comers who dare to attack -the sovereignty of the circulating library. -</p> - -<p> -The first of these is “Piping Hot!” and, I think, the pungent odour of -life it exhales, as well as its scorching satire on the middle-classes, -will be relished by all who prefer the fortifying brutalities of truth to -the soft platitudes of lies. As a satire “Piping Hot!” must be read; and -as a satire it will rank with Juvenal, Voltaire, Pope, and Swift. -</p> - -<p> -George Moore. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> -PIPING-HOT! -</h2> - -<h3> -(<i>POT-BOUILLE</i>) -</h3> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> -CHAPTER I. -</h2> - -<p class="pfirst"> -<span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>n the Rue -Neuve-Saint-Augustin, a block of vehicles arrested the cab which was -bringing Octave Mouret and his three trunks from the Lyons railway -station. The young man lowered one of the windows, in spite of the already -intense cold of that dull November afternoon. He was surprised at the -abrupt approach of twilight in this neighbourhood of narrow streets, all -swarming with a busy crowd. The oaths of the drivers as they lashed their -snorting horses, the endless jostlings on the foot-pavements, the serried -line of shops swarming with attendants and customers, bewildered him; for, -though he had dreamed of a cleaner Paris than the one he beheld, he had -never hoped to find it so eager for trade, and he felt that it was -publicly open to the appetites of energetic young fellows. -</p> - -<p> -The driver leant towards him. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s the Passage Choiseul you want, isn’t it?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, the Rue de Choiseul. A new house, I think.” -</p> - -<p> -And the cab only had to turn the corner. The house was the second one in -the street: a big house four storeys high, the stonework of which was -scarcely discoloured, in the midst of the dirty stucco of the adjoining -old frontages. Octave, who had alighted on to the pavement, measured it -and studied it with a mechanical glance, from the silk warehouse on the -ground floor to the projecting windows on the fourth floor opening on to a -narrow terrace. On the first floor, carved female heads supported a highly -elaborate cast-iron balcony. The windows were surrounded with complicated -frames, roughly chiselled in the soft stone; and, lower down, above the -tall doorway, two cupids were unrolling a scroll bearing the number, which -at night-time was lighted up by a jet of gas from the inside. -</p> - -<p> -A stout fair gentleman, who was coming out of the vestibule, stopped short -on catching sight of Octave. -</p> - -<p> -“What! you here!” exclaimed he. “Why, I was not expecting you till -to-morrow!” -</p> - -<p> -“The truth is,” replied the young man, “I left Hassans a day earlier than -I originally intended. Isn’t the room ready?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, yes. I took it a fortnight ago, and I furnished it at once in the way -you desired. Wait a bit, I will take you to it.” -</p> - -<p> -He re-entered the house, though Octave begged he would not give himself -the trouble. The driver had got the three trunks off the cab. Inside the -doorkeeper’s room, a dignified-looking man with a long face, clean-shaven -like a diplomatist, was standing up gravely reading the “Moniteur.” He -deigned, however, to interest himself about these trunks which were being -deposited in his doorway; and, taking a few steps forward, he asked his -tenant, the architect of the third floor as he called him: -</p> - -<p> -“Is this the person, Monsieur Campardon?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, Monsieur Gourd, this is Monsieur Octave Mouret, for whom I have -taken the room on the fourth floor. He will sleep there and take his meals -with us. Monsieur Mouret is a friend of my wife’s relations, and I beg you -will show him every attention.” -</p> - -<p> -Octave was examining the entrance with its panels of imitation marble and -its vaulted ceiling decorated with rosettes. The courtyard at the end was -paved and cemented, and had a grand air of cold cleanliness; the only -occupant was a coachman engaged in polishing a bit with a chamois leather -at the entrance to the stables. There were no signs of the sun ever -shining there. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, Monsieur Gourd was inspecting the trunks. He pushed them with -his foot, and, their weight filling him with respect, he talked of -fetching a porter to carry them up the servants’ staircase. -</p> - -<p> -“Madame Gourd, I’m going out,” cried he, just putting his head inside his -room. -</p> - -<p> -It was like a drawing-room, with bright looking-glasses, a red flowered -Wilton carpet and violet ebony furniture; and, through a partly opened -door, one caught a glimpse of the bed-chamber with a bedstead hung with -garnet rep. Madame Gourd, a very fat woman with yellow ribbons in her -hair, was stretehed out in an easy-chair with her hands clasped, and doing -nothing. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! let’s go up,” said the architect. -</p> - -<p> -And seeing how impressed the young man seemed to be by Monsieur Gourd’s -black velvet cap and sky blue slippers, he added, as he pushed open the -mahogany door of the vestibule: -</p> - -<p> -“You know he was formerly the Duke de Vaugelade’s valet.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah!” simply ejaculated Octave. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s as I tell you, and he married the widow of a little bailiff of -Mort-la-Ville. They even own a house there. But they are waiting until -they have three thousand francs a year before going there to live. Oh! -they are most respectable doorkeepers!” -</p> - -<p> -The decorations of the vestibule and the staircase were gaudily luxurious. -At the foot of the stairs was the figure of a woman, a kind of gilded -Neapolitan, supporting on her head an amphora from which issued three -gas-jets protected by ground glass globes. The panels of imitation white -marble with pink borders succeeded each other at regular intervals up the -wall of the staircase, whilst the cast-iron balustrade with its mahogany -hand-rail was in imitation of old silver with clusters of golden leaves. A -red carpet, secured with brass rods, covered the stairs. But what -especially struck Octave on entering was a green-house temperature, a warm -breath which seemed to be puffed from some mouth into his face. -</p> - -<p> -“Hallo!” said he, “the staircase is warmed.” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course,” replied Campardon. “All landlords who have the least -self-respect go to that expense now. The house is a very fine one, very -fine.” -</p> - -<p> -He looked about him as though he were sounding the walls with his -architect’s eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“My dear fellow, you will see, it is a most comfortable place, and -inhabited solely by highly respectable people!” -</p> - -<p> -Then, slowly ascending, he mentioned the names of the different tenants. -On each floor were two separate suites of apartments, one looking on to -the street, the other on to the courtyard, and the polished mahogany doors -of which faeed eaeh other. He began by saying a few words respecting -Monsieur Auguste Vabre; he was the landlord’s eldest son; since the spring -he had rented the silk warehouse on the ground floor, and he also occupied -the whole of the “entresol” above. Then, on the first floor the landlord’s -other son, Monsieur Théophile Vabre and his wife, resided in the apartment -overlooking the courtyard; and in the one overlooking the street lived the -landlord himself, formerly a notary at Versailles, but who was now lodging -with his son-in-law, Monsieur Duveyrier, a judge at the Court of Appeal. -</p> - -<p> -“A fellow who is not yet forty-five,” said Campardon, stopping short. -“That’s something remarkable, is it not?” -</p> - -<p> -He ascended two steps, and then suddenly turning round, he added: -</p> - -<p> -“Water and gas on every floor.” -</p> - -<p> -Beneath the tall window on each landing, the panes of which, bordered with -fretwork, lit up the staircase with a white light, was placed a narrow -velvet covered bench. The architect observed that elderly persons could -sit down and rest. Then, as he passed the second floor without naming the -tenants. -</p> - -<p> -“And there?” asked Octave, pointing to the door of the principal suite. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! there,” said he, “persons whom one never sees, whom no one knows. The -house could well do without them. Blemishes, you know, are to be found -everywhere.” -</p> - -<p> -He gave a little snort of contempt. -</p> - -<p> -“The gentleman writes books, I believe.” -</p> - -<p> -But on the third floor his smile of satisfaction reappeared. The -apartments looking on to the courtyard were divided into two suites; they -were occupied by Madame Juzeur, a little woman who was most unhappy, and a -very distinguished gentleman who had taken a room to which he came once a -week on business matters. Whilst giving these particulars, Campardon -opened the door on the other side of the landing. -</p> - -<p> -“And this is where I live,” resumed he. “Wait a moment, I must get your -key. We will first go up to your room; you can see my wife afterwards.” -</p> - -<p> -During the two minutes he was left alone, Octave felt penetrated by the -grave silence of the staircase. He leant over the balustrade, in the warm -air which ascended from the vestibule; he raised his head, listening if -any noise came from above. It was the death-like peacefulness of a -middle-class drawing-room, carefully shut in and not admitting a breath -from outside. Behind the beautiful shining mahogany doors there seemed to -be unfathomable depths of respectability. -</p> - -<p> -“You will have some excellent neighbours,” said Campardon, reappearing -with the key; “on the street side there are the Josserands, quite a -family, the father who is cashier at the Saint-Joseph glass works, and -also two marriageable daughters; and next to you the Pichons, the husband -is a clerk; they are not rolling in wealth, but they are educated people. -Everything has to be let, has it not? even in a house like this.” -</p> - -<p> -From the third landing, the red carpet ceased and was replaced by a simple -grey holland. Octave’s vanity was slightly ruffled. The staircase had, -little by little, filled him with respect; he was deeply moved at -inhabiting such a fine house as the architect termed it. As, following the -latter, he turned into the passage leading to his room, he caught sight -through a partly open door of a young woman standing up before a cradle. -She raised her head at the noise. She was fair, with clear and vacant -eyes; and all he carried away was this very distinct look, for the young -woman, suddenly blushing, pushed the door to in the shame-faced way of a -person taken by surprise. -</p> - -<p> -Campardon turned round to repeat: -</p> - -<p> -“Water and gas on every floor, my dear fellow.” -</p> - -<p> -Then he pointed out a door which opened on to the servants’ staircase. -Their rooms were up above. And stopping at the end of the passage, he -added: -</p> - -<p> -“Here we are at last.” -</p> - -<p> -The room, which was square, pretty large, and hung with a grey wall-paper -with blue flowers, was furnished very simply. Close to the alcove was a -little dressing-closet with just room enough to wash one’s hands. Octave -went straight to the window, which admitted a greenish light. Below was -the courtyard looking sad and clean, with its regular pavement, and the -shining brass tap of its cistern. And still not a human being, nor even a -noise; nothing but the uniform windows, without a bird-cage, without a -flower-pot, displaying the monotony of their white curtains. To hide the -big bare wall of the house on the left hand side, which shut in the square -of the courtyard, the windows had been repeated, imitation windows in -paint, with shutters eternally closed, behind which the walled-in life of -the neighbouring apartments appeared to continue. -</p> - -<p> -“But I shall be very comfortable here!” cried Octave delighted. -</p> - -<p> -“I thought so,” said Campardon. “Well! I did everything as though it had -been for myself; and, moreover, I carried out the instructions contained -in your letters. So the furniture pleases you? It is all that is necessary -for a young man. Later on, you can make any changes you like.” -</p> - -<p> -And, as Octave shook his hand, thanking him, and apologising for having -given him so much trouble, he resumed in a serious tone of voice: -</p> - -<p> -“Only, my boy, no rows here, and above all no women! On my word of honour, -if you were to bring a woman here it would revolutionize the whole house!” -</p> - -<p> -“Be easy!” murmured the young man, feeling rather anxious. -</p> - -<p> -“No, let me tell you, for it is I who would be compromised. You have seen -the house. All middle-class people, and of extreme morality! between -ourselves, they affect it rather too much. Never a word, never more noise -than you have heard just now. Ah, well! Monsieur Gourd would at once fetch -Monsieur Vabre, and we should both be in a nice pickle! My dear fellow, I -ask it of you for my own peace of mind: respect the house.” -</p> - -<p> -Octave, overpowered by so much virtue and respectability, swore to do so. -Then, Campardon, casting a mistrustful glance around, and lowering his -voice as though some one might have heard him, added with sparkling eyes: -</p> - -<p> -“Outside it concerns nobody. Paris is big enough, is it not? there is -plenty of room. As for myself, I am at heart an artist, therefore I think -nothing of it!” -</p> - -<p> -A porter carried up the trunks. When everything was straight, the -architect assisted paternally at Octave’s toilet. Then, rising to his feet -he said: -</p> - -<p> -“Now we will go and see my wife.” -</p> - -<p> -Down on the third floor the maid, a slim, dark, and coquettish looking -girl, said that madame was busy. Campardon, with a view of putting his -young friend at ease, showed him over the rooms: first of all, there was -the huge white and gold drawingroom, highly decorated with artificial -mouldings, and situated between a green parlour which the architect had -turned into a workroom and the bedroom, into which they could not enter, -but the narrow shape of which, and the mauve wall-paper, he described. As -he next ushered him into the dining-room, all in imitation wood, with an -extraordinary complication of baguettes and coffers, Octave, enchanted, -exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -“It is very handsome!” -</p> - -<p> -On the ceiling, two big cracks cut right through the coffers, and, in a -corner, the paint had peeled off and displayed the plaster. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, it creates an effect,” slowly observed the architect, his eyes fixed -on the ceiling. “You see, these kind of houses are built to create effect. -Only, the walls will not bear much looking into. It is not twelve years -old yet, and it is already cracking. One builds the frontage of handsome -stone, with a lot of sculpture about it; one gives three coats of varnish -to the walls of the staircase; one paints and gilds the rooms; and all -that flatters people, and inspires respect. Oh! it is still solid, it will -certainly last as long as we shall!” -</p> - -<p> -He led him again across the ante-room, which was lighted by a window of -ground glass. To the left, looking on to the courtyard, there was a second -bed-chamber where his daughter Angèle slept, and which, all in white, -looked on this November afternoon as sad as a tomb. Then at the end of the -passage, came the kitchen, into which he insisted on conducting Octave, -saying that it was necessary to see everything. -</p> - -<p> -“Walk in,” repeated he, pushing open the door. -</p> - -<p> -A terrible uproar issued from it. In spite of the cold, the window was -wide open. With their elbows on the rail, the dark maid and a fat cook, a -dissolute looking old party, were leaning out into the narrow well of an -inner courtyard, which lighted the kitchens of each floor, placed opposite -to each other. They were both yelling with their backs bent, whilst, from -the depths of this hole, arose the sounds of vulgar voices, mingled with -oaths and bursts of laughter. It was like the overflow of some sewer: all -the domestics of the house were there, easing their minds. Octave’s -thoughts reverted to the peaceful majesty of the grand staircase. -</p> - -<p> -Just then the two women, warned by some instinct, turned round. They -remained thunderstruck on beholding their master with a gentleman. There -was a gentle whistle, windows were shut, and all was once more as silent -as death. -</p> - -<p> -“What is the matter, Lisa?” asked Campardon. -</p> - -<p> -“Sir,” replied the maid, greatly excited, “it’s that filthy Adèle again. -She has thrown a rabbit’s guts out of the window. You should speak to -Monsieur Josserand, sir.” -</p> - -<p> -Campardon became very grave, anxious not to make any promise. He returned -to his workroom, saying to Octave: -</p> - -<p> -“You have seen all. On each floor, the rooms are arranged the same. I pay -a rent of two thousand five hundred francs, and on a third floor, too! -Rents are rising every day. Monsieur Vabre must make about twenty-two -thousand francs a year from his house. And it will increase still more, -for there is a question of opening a wide thoroughfare from the Place de -la Bourse to the new Opera-house. And he had the ground this is built upon -almost for nothing, twelve years ago, after that great fire caused by a -druggist’s servant!” -</p> - -<p> -As they entered, Octave observed, hanging above a drawing-table, and in -the full light from the window, a richly framed picture of a Virgin, -displaying in her opened breast an enormous flaming heart. He could not -repress a movement of surprise; he looked at Campardon, whom he had known -to be a rather wild fellow at Plassans. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! I forgot to tell you,” resumed the latter slightly colouring, “I have -been appointed diocesan architect, yes, at Evreux. Oh! a mere bagatelle as -regards money, in all barely two thousand francs a year. But there is -scarcely anything to do, a journey now and again; for the rest I have an -inspector there. And, you see, it is a great deal, when one can print on -one’s cards: ‘government architect.’ You can have no idea what an amount -of work that procures me in the highest society.” -</p> - -<p> -Whilst speaking, he looked at the Virgin with the flaming heart. -</p> - -<p> -“After all,” continued he in a sudden fit of frankness, “I do not care a -button for their paraphernalia!” -</p> - -<p> -But, on Octave bursting out laughing, the architect was seized with fear. -Why confide in that young man? He gave a side glance, and, putting on an -air of compunction, he tried to smooth over what he had said. -</p> - -<p> -“I do not care and yet I do care. Well! yes, I am becoming like that. You -will see, you will see, my friend: when you have lived a little longer, -you will do as every one else.” -</p> - -<p> -And he spoke of his forty-two years, of the emptiness of life, posing for -being very melancholy, which his robust health belied. In the artist’s -head which he had fashioned for himself, with flowing hair and beard -trimmed in the Henri IV. style, one found the flat skull and square jaw of -a middle-class man of limited intelligence and voracious appetites. When -younger, he had a fatiguing gaiety. -</p> - -<p> -Octave’s eyes became fixed on a number of the “Gazette de France,” which -was lying amongst some plans. Then, Campardon, more and more ill at ease, -rang for the maid to know if madame was at length disengaged. Yes, the -doctor was just leaving, madame would be there directly. -</p> - -<p> -“Is Madame Campardon unwell?” asked the young man. -</p> - -<p> -“No, she is the same as usual,” said the architect in a bored tone of -voice. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! and what is the matter with her?” -</p> - -<p> -Again embarrassed, he did not give a straightforward answer. -</p> - -<p> -“You know, there is always something going wrong with women. She has been -in this state for the last thirteen years, ever since her confinement. -Otherwise, she is as well as can be. You will even find her stouter.” -</p> - -<p> -Octave asked no further questions. Just then, Lisa returned, bringing a -card; and the architect, begging to be excused, hastened to the -drawing-room, telling the young man as he disappeared to talk to his wife -and have patience. Octave had caught sight, on the door being quickly -opened and closed, of the black mass of a cassock in the centre of the -large white and gold apartment. -</p> - -<p> -At the same moment, Madame Campardon entered from the ante-room. He -scarcely knew her again. In other days, when a youngster, he had known her -at Plassans, at her father’s, Monsieur Domergue, government clerk of the -works, she was thin and ugly, as puny-looking as a young girl suffering -from the crisis of her puberty; and now he beheld her plump, with the -clear and placid complexion of a nun, soft eyes, dimples, and a general -appearance of an overfed she-cat. If she had not been able to grow pretty, -she had ripened towards thirty, gaining a sweet savour and a nice fresh -odour of autumn fruit. He remarked, however, that she walked with -difficulty, her whole body wrapped, in a mignonette coloured silk -dressing-gown, moving; which gave her a languid air. -</p> - -<p> -“But you are a man, now!” said she gaily, holding out her hands. “How you -have grown, since our last journey to the country!” -</p> - -<p> -And she gazed at him: tall, dark, handsome, with his well kept moustache -and beard. When he told her his age, twenty-two, she scarcely believed it: -he looked twenty-five at least. He, whom the presence of a woman, even -though she were the lowest of servants, filled with rapture, laughed -melodiously, enveloping her with his eyes of the colour of old gold, and -of the softness of velvet. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! yes,” repeated he gently, “I have grown, I have grown. Do you -recollect, when your cousin Gasparine used to buy me marbles?” -</p> - -<p> -Then, he gave her news of her parents. Monsieur and Madame Domergue were -living happily, in the house to which they had retired; they merely -complained of being very lonely, bearing Campardon a grudge for having -taken their little Rose from them, during a stay he had made at Plassans -on business. Then, the young man tried to bring the conversation round to -cousin Gasparine, having a precocious youngster’s old curiosity to -satisfy, in the matter of an hitherto unexplained adventure: the -architect’s mad passion for Gasparine, a tall lovely girl, but poor, and -his sudden marriage with skinny Rose who had a dowry of thirty thousand -francs, and quite a tearful scene, and a quarrel, and the flight of the -abandoned one to Paris, to an aunt who was a dressmaker. But Madame -Campardon, whose placid complexion preserved a rosy paleness, did not -appear to understand. He was unable to draw a single particular from her. -</p> - -<p> -“And your parents?” inquired she in her turn. “How are Monsienr and Madame -Mouret?” -</p> - -<p> -“Very well, thank you,” replied he. “My mother scarcely leaves her garden. -You would find the house in the Rue de la Banne, just as you left it.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Campardon, who seemed unable to remain standing for long without -feeling tired, had seated herself on a high drawing-chair, her legs -stretched out in her dressing-gown; and he, taking a low chair beside her, -raised his head when speaking, with his air of habitual adoration. With -his large shoulders, he was like a woman, he had a woman’s feeling which -at once admitted him to their hearts. So that, at the end of ten minutes, -they were both talking like two lady friends of long standing. -</p> - -<p> -“Now I am your boarder,” said he, passing a handsome hand with neatly -trimmed nails over his beard. “We shall get on well together, you will -see. How charming it was of you to remember the Plassans youngster and to -busy yourself about everything, at the first word!” -</p> - -<p> -But she protested. -</p> - -<p> -“No, do not thank me. I am a great deal too lazy, I never move. It was -Achille who arranged everything. And, besides, was it not sufficient that -my mother mentioned to us your desire to board in some family, for us to -think at once of opening our doors to you? You will not be with strangers, -and will be company for us.” -</p> - -<p> -Then, he told her of his own affairs. After having obtained a bachelor’s -diploma, to please his family, he had just passed three years at -Marseilles, in a big calico print warehouse, which had a factory in the -neighbourhood of Plassans. He had a passion for trade, the trade in -women’s luxuries, into which enters a seduction, a slow possession by -gilded words and adulatory glances. And he related, laughing victoriously, -how he had made the five thousand francs, without which he would never -have ventured on coming to Paris, for he had the prudence of a Jew beneath -the exterior of an amiable giddy-headed fellow. -</p> - -<p> -“Just fancy, they had a Pompadour calico, an old design, something -marvellous. No one would bite at it; it had been stowed away in the -cellars for two years past. Then, as I was about to travel through the -departments of the Var and the Basses-Alpes, it occurred to me to purchase -the whole of the stock and to sell it on my own account. Oh! such a -success! an amazing success! The women quarrelled for the remnants; and -to-day, there is not one there who is not wearing some of my calico. I -must say that I talked them over so nicely! They were all with me, I might -have done as I pleased with them.” -</p> - -<p> -And he laughed, whilst Madame Campardon, charmed, and troubled by thought -of that Pompadour calico, questioned him: “Little bouquets on an -unbleached ground, was it not?” She had been trying to obtain the same -thing everywhere for a summer dressing-gown. -</p> - -<p> -“I have travelled for two years, which is enough,” resumed he. “Besides, -there is Paris to conquer. I must immediately look out for something.” -</p> - -<p> -“What!” exclaimed she, “has not Achille told you? But he has a berth for -you, and close by, too!” -</p> - -<p> -He uttered his thanks, as surprised as though he were in fairy land, -asking, by way of a joke, whether he would not find a wife and a hundred -thousand francs a-year in his room that evening, when a young girl of -fourteen, tall and ugly, with fair insipid-looking hair, pushed open the -door, and gave a slight cry of fright. -</p> - -<p> -“Come in and don’t be afraid,” said Madame Campardon. “It is Monsieur -Octave Mouret, whom you have heard us speak of.” -</p> - -<p> -Then, turning towards the latter, she added: -</p> - -<p> -“My daughter, Angèle. We did not bring her with us at our last journey. -She was so delicate! But she is getting stouter now.” -</p> - -<p> -Angèle, with the awkwardness of girls in the ungrateful age, went and -placed herself behind her mother, and cast glances at the smiling young -man. Almost immediately, Campardon reappeared, looking excited; and he -could not contain himself, but told his wife in a few words of his good -fortune: the Abbé Mauduit, Vicar of Saint-Roch, had called about some -work, merely some repairs, but which might lead to many other things. -Then, annoyed at having spoken before Octave, and still quivering, he -rapped one hand in the other, saying: -</p> - -<p> -“Well! well! what are we going to do?” -</p> - -<p> -“Why, you were going out,” said Octave. “Do not let me disturb you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Achille,” murmured Madame Campardon, “that berth, at the Hédouins’—” -</p> - -<p> -“Why, of course! I was forgetting,” exclaimed the architect. “My dear -fellow, a place of first clerk at a large linen-draper’s. I know some one -there who has said a word for you. You are expected. It is not yet four -o’clock; shall I introduce you now?” -</p> - -<p> -Octave hesitated, anxious about the bow of his necktie, flurried by his -mania for being neatly dressed. However, he decided to go, when Madame -Campardon assured him that he looked very well. With a languid movement, -she offered her forehead to her husband, who kissed her with a great show -of tenderness, repeating: -</p> - -<p> -“Good-bye, my darling—good-bye, my pet.” -</p> - -<p> -“Do not forget that we dine at seven,” said she, accompanying them across -the drawing-room, where they had left their hats. -</p> - -<p> -Angèle followed them without the slightest grace. But her music-master was -waiting for her, and she at once commenced to strum on the instrument with -her bony fingers. Octave, who was lingering in the ante-room, repeating -his thanks, was unable to make himself heard. And, as he went downstairs, -the sound of the piano seemed to follow him: in the midst of the warm -silence other pianos—from Madame Juzeur’s, the Vabres’, and -Duveyriers’—were answering, playing on eaeh floor other airs, whieh -issued, distantly and religiously, from the calm solemnity of the doors. -</p> - -<p> -On reaching the street, Campardon turned into the Rue -Neuve-Saint-Augustin. He remained silent, with the absorbed air of a man -seeking for an opportunity to broach a subject. -</p> - -<p> -“Do you remember Mademoiselle Gasparine?” asked he, at length. “She is -first lady assistant at the Hédouins’. You will see her.” -</p> - -<p> -Octave thought this a good time for satisfying his curiosity. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah!” said he. “Does she live with you?” -</p> - -<p> -“No! no!” exelaimed the architect, hastily, and as though feeling hurt at -the bare idea. -</p> - -<p> -Then, as the young man appeared surprised at his vehemence, he gently -continued, speaking in an embarrassed way: -</p> - -<p> -“No; she and my wife no longer see each other. You know, in families— -Well, I met her, and I could not refuse to shake hands, could I? more -especially as she is not very well off, poor girl. So that, now, they have -news of each other through me. In these old quarrels, one must leave the -task of healing the wounds to time.” -</p> - -<p> -Octave was about to question him plainly on the subject of his marriage, -when the architect suddenly put an end to the conversation by saying: -</p> - -<p> -“Here we are!” -</p> - -<p> -It was a large linen-drapers, opening on to the narrow triangle of the -Place Gaillon, at the corner of the Rue Neuve-Saint-Augustin and the Rue -de la Michodière. Across two windows immediately above the shop was a -signboard, with the words, “The Ladies’ Paradise, founded in 1822,” in -faded gilt letters, whilst on the shop windows was inscribed, in red, the -name of the firm, “Deleuze, Hédouin, & Co.” -</p> - -<p> -“It has not the modern style, but it is honest and solid,” rapidly -explained Campardon. “Monsieur Hédouin, formerly a clerk, married the -daughter of the elder Deleuze, who died a couple of years ago; so that the -business is now managed by the young couple—the old Deleuze and -another partner, I think, both keep out of it. You will see Madame -Hédouin. Oh! a woman with brains! Let us go in.” -</p> - -<p> -It so happened that Monsieur Hédouin was at Lille buying some linen; -therefore Madame Hédouin received them. She was standing up, a penholder -behind her ear, giving orders to two shopmen who were putting away some -pieces of stuff on the shelves; and she appeared to him so tall, so -admirably lovely, with her regular features and her tidy hair, so gravely -smiling, in her black dress, with a turn-down collar and a man’s tie, that -Octave, not usually timid, could only stammer out a few observations. -Everything was settled without any waste of words. -</p> - -<p> -“Well!” said she, in her quiet way, and with her tradeswoman’s accustomed -gracefulness, “you may as well look over the place, as you are not -engaged.” -</p> - -<p> -She called one of her clerks, and put Octave under his guidance; then, -after having politely replied to a question of Campardon’s that -Mademoiselle Gasparine was out on an errand, she turned her back and -resumed her work, continuing to give her orders in her gentle and concise -voice. -</p> - -<p> -“Not there, Alexandre. Put the silks up at the top. Be careful, those are -not the same make!” -</p> - -<p> -Campardon, after hesitating, at length said to Octave that he would call -again for him to take him back to dinner. Then, during two hours, the -young man went over the warehouse. He found it badly lighted, small, -encumbered with stock, which, overflowing from the basement, became heaped -up in the corners, leaving only narrow passages between high walls of -bales. On several different occasions he ran against Madame Hédouin, busy, -and scuttling along the narrowest passages without ever catching her dress -in anything. She seemed the very life and soul of the establishment, all -the assistants belonging to which obeyed the slightest sign of her white -hands. Octave felt hurt that she did not take more notice of him. Towards -a quarter to seven, as he was coming up a last time from the basement, he -was told that Campardon was on the first floor with Mademoiselle -Gasparine. Up there was the hosiery department, which that young lady -looked after. But, at the top of the winding staircase, the young man -stopped abruptly behind a pyramid of pieces of calico systematically -arranged, on hearing the architect talking most familiarly to Gasparine. -</p> - -<p> -“I swear to you it is not so!” cried he, forgetting himself so far as to -raise his voice. -</p> - -<p> -A slight pause ensued. -</p> - -<p> -“How is she now?” at length inquired the young woman. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! always the same. It comes and goes. She feels that it is all over -now. She will never get right again.” -</p> - -<p> -Gasparine resumed, in compassionate tones: -</p> - -<p> -“My poor friend, it is you who are to be pitied. However, as you have been -able to manage in another way, tell her how sorry I am to hear that she is -still unwell—” -</p> - -<p> -Campardon, without letting her finish, seized hold of her by the shoulders -and kissed her roughly on the lips, in the gas-heated air already becoming -heavy beneath the low ceiling. She returned his kiss, murmuring: -</p> - -<p> -“To-morrow morning, if you can, at six o’clock; I will remain in bed. -Knock three times.” -</p> - -<p> -Octave, bewildered, and beginning to understand, coughed, and showed -himself. Another surprise awaited him. Cousin Gasparine had become dried -up, thin and angular, with her jaw projecting, and her hair coarse; and -all she had preserved of her former self were her large superb eyes, in a -face that had now become cadaverous. With her jealous forehead, her ardent -and obstinate mouth, she troubled him as much as Rose had charmed him by -her tardy expansion of an indolent blonde. -</p> - -<p> -Gasparine was polite, without effusiveness. She remembered Plassans—she -talked to the young man of the old times. When they went off, Campardon -and he, she shook their hands. Downstairs, Madame Hédouin simply said to -Octave: -</p> - -<p> -“To-morrow, then, sir.” -</p> - -<p> -Out in the street the young man, deafened by the cabs, jostled by the -passers-by, eould not help remarking that this lady was very beautiful, -but that she did not seem particularly amiable. On the black and muddy -pavement, the bright windows of freshly-painted shops, flaring with gas, -east broad rays of vivid light; whilst the old shops, with their sombre -displays, lit up in the interior only by smoking lamps, which burnt like -distant stars, saddened the streets with masses of shadow. In the Rue -Neuve-Saint-Augustin, just before turning into the Rue do Choiseul, the -architect bowed on passing before one of these establishments. -</p> - -<p> -A young woman, slim and elegant, dressed in a silk mantlet, was standing -in the doorway, drawing a little boy of three towards her, so that he -might not get run over. She was talking to an old bareheaded lady, the -shopkeeper, no doubt, whom she addressed in a familiar manner. Octave -eould not distinguish her features in that dim light, beneath the dancing -reflections of the neighbouring gas-jets; she seemed to him to be pretty, -he only saw two bright eyes, whieh were fixed a moment upon him like two -flames. Behind her yawned the shop, damp like a cellar, and emitting an -odour of saltpetre. -</p> - -<p> -“That is Madame Vabre, the wife of Monsieur Théophile Vabre, the -landlord’s younger son. You know the people who live on the first floor,” -resumed Campardon, when he had gone a few steps. “Oh! a most charming -lady! She was born in that shop, one of the best paying haberdashers of -the neighbourhood, which her parents, Monsieur and Madame Louhette, still -manage, for the sake of having something to occupy them. They have made -some money there, I will warrant!” -</p> - -<p> -But Octave did not understand trade of that sort, in those holes of old -Paris, where at one time a piece of stuff was sufficient sign. He swore -that nothing in the world would ever make him consent to live in such a -den. One surely caught some rare aches and pains there! -</p> - -<p> -Whilst talking, they had reached the top of the stairs. They were being -waited for. Madame Campardon had put on a grey silk dress, had arranged -her hair coquettishly, and looked very neat and prim. Campardon kissed her -on the neck, with the emotion of a good husband. -</p> - -<p> -“Good evening, my darling; good evening, my pet.” -</p> - -<p> -And they passed into the dining-room. The dinner was delightful. Madame -Campardon at first talked of the Deleuzes and the Hédouins—families -respected throughout the neighbourhood, and whose member’s were well -known; a cousin who was a stationer in the Rue Gaillon, an uncle who had -an umbrella shop in the Passage Choiseul, and nephews and nieces in -business all round about. Then the conversation turned, and they talked of -Angèle, who was sitting stiffly on her chair, and eating with inert -gestures. Her mother was bringing her up at home, it was preferable; and, -not wishing to say more, she blinked her eyes, to convey that young girls -learnt very naughty things at boarding-schools. The child had slyly -balanced her plate on her knife. Lisa, who was clearing the cloth, missed -breaking it, and exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -“It was your fault, mademoiselle!” -</p> - -<p> -A mad laugh, violently restrained, passed over Angèle’s face. ‘Madame -Campardon contented herself with shaking her head; and, when Lisa had left -the room to fetch the dessert, she sang her praises—very -intelligent, very active, a regular Paris girl, always knowing which way -to turn. They might very well do without Victoire, the cook, who was no -longer very clean, on account of her great age; but she had seen her -master born at his father’s—she was a family ruin which they -respected. Then as the maid returned with some baked apples: -</p> - -<p> -“Conduct irreproachable,” continued Madame Campardon in Octave’s ear. “I -have discovered nothing against her as yet. One holiday a month to go and -embrace her old aunt, who lives some distance off.” -</p> - -<p> -Octave observed Lisa. Seeing her nervous, flat-chested, blear-eyed, the -thought came to him that she must go in for a precious fling, when at her -old aunt’s. However, he greatly approved what the mother said, as she -continued to give him her views on education—a young girl is such a -heavy responsibility, it is necessary to keep her clear even of the -breaths of the street And, during this, Angèle, each time Lisa leant over -near her chair to remove a plate, pinched her in a friendly way, whilst -they both maintained their composite, without even moving an eyelid. -</p> - -<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> -<img src="images/0010.jpg" alt="0010 " width="100%" /> -</div> - -<p> -“One should be virtuous for one’s own sake,” said the architect learnedly, -as though by way of conclusion to thoughts he had not expressed. “I do not -care a button for public opinion; I am an artist!” -</p> - -<p> -After dinner, they remained in the drawing-room until midnight. It was a -little jollification to celebrate Octave’s arrival. Madame Campardon -appeared to be very tired; little by little she abandoned herself, leaning -back on the sofa. -</p> - -<p> -“Are you suffering, my darling?” asked her husband. -</p> - -<p> -“No,” replied she in a low voice. “It is always the same thing.” -</p> - -<p> -She looked at him, and then gently asked: -</p> - -<p> -“Did you see her at the Hédouins’?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. She asked after you.” -</p> - -<p> -Tears came to Rose’s eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“She is in good health, she is!” -</p> - -<p> -“Come, come,” said the architect, showering little kisses on her hair, -forgetting they were not alone. “You will make yourself worse again. You -know very well that I love you all the same, my poor pet!” -</p> - -<p> -Octave, who had discreetly retired to the window, under the pretence of -looking into the street, returned to study Madame Campardon’s countenance, -his curiosity again awakened, and wondering if she knew. But she had -resumed her amiable and doleful expression, and was curled up in the -depths of the sofa, like a woman who has to find her pleasure in herself, -and who is forcibly resigned to receiving the caresses that fall to her -share. -</p> - -<p> -At length Octave wished them good-night. With his candlestick in his hand, -he was still on the landing, when he heard the sound of silk dresses -rustling over the stairs. He politely stood on one side. It was evidently -the ladies of the fourth floor, Madame Josserand and her two daughters, -returning from some party. As they passed, the mother, a superb and -corpulent woman, stared in his face; whilst the elder of the young ladies -kept at a distance with a sour air, and the younger, giddily looked at him -and laughed, in the full light of the candle. She was charming, this one, -with her irregular but agreeable features, her clear complexion, and her -auburn hair gilded with light reflections; and she had a bold grace, the -free gait of a young bride returning from a ball in a complicated costume -of ribbons and lace, like unmarried girls do not wear. The trains -disappeared along the balustrade: a door closed. Octave lingered a moment, -greatly amused by the gaiety of her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -He slowly ascended in his turn. A single gas-jet was burning, the -staircase was slumbering in a heavy warmth. It seemed to him more wrapped -up in itself than ever, with its chaste doors, its doors of rich mahogany, -closing the entrances to virtuous alcoves. Not a sigh passed along, it was -the silence of well-mannered people who hold their breath. Presently a -slight noise was heard; Octave leant over and beheld Monsieur Gourd, in -his cap and slippers, turning out the last gas-jet. Then all subsided, the -house became enveloped by the solemnity of darkness, as though annihilated -in the distinction and decency of its slumbers. -</p> - -<p> -Octave, nevertheless, had great difficulty in getting to sleep. He kept -feverishly turning over, his brain occupied with the new faces he had -seen. Why the devil were the Campardons so amiable? Were they dreaming of -marrying their daughter to him later on? Perhaps, too, the husband took -him to board with them so that he might amuse and enliven the wife? And -that poor lady, what peculiar complaint could she be suffering from? Then -his ideas got more mixed; he saw shadows pass—? little Madame -Pichon, his neighbour, with her clear empty glances; beautiful Madame -Hédouin, correct and grave in her black dress; and Madame Vabre’s ardent -eyes, and Mademoiselle Josserand’s gay laugh. How they swarmed in a few -hours in the streets of Paris! It had always been his dream, ladies who -would take him by the hand and help him in his affairs. But these kept -returning and mingling with fatiguing obstinacy. He knew not which to -choose; he tried to keep his voice soft, his gestures cajoling. And -suddenly, worn-out, exasperated, he yielded to his brutal inner nature, to -the ferocious disdain in which he held woman, beneath his air of amorous -adoration. -</p> - -<p> -“Are they going to let me sleep at all?” said he out loud, turning -violently on to his back. “The first who likes, it is the same to me, and -all together if it pleases them! To sleep now, it will be daylight -to-morrow.” -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> -CHAPTER II. -</h2> - -<p class="pfirst"> -<span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen Madame -Josserand, preceded by her young ladies, left the evening party given by -Madame Dambreville, who resided on a fourth floor in the Rue de Rivoli, at -the corner of the Rue de l’Oratoire, she roughly slammed the street door, -in the sudden outburst of a passion she had been keeping under for the -past two hours. Berthe, her younger daughter, had again just gone and -missed a husband. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! what are you doing there?” said she angrily to the young girls, who -were standing under the arcade and watching the cabs pass by. “Walk on! -don’t have any idea we are going to ride! To waste another two francs, -eh?” -</p> - -<p> -And as Hortense, the elder, murmured: -</p> - -<p> -“It will be pleasant, with this mud. My shoes will never recover it.” -</p> - -<p> -“Walk on!” resumed the mother, all beside herself. “When you have no more -shoes, you can stop in bed, that’s all. A deal of good it is, taking you -out!” -</p> - -<p> -Berthe and Hortense bowed their heads and turned into the Rue de -l’Oratoire. They held their long skirts up as high as they could over -their crinolines, squeezing their shoulders together and shivering under -their thin opera-cloaks. Madame Josserand followed behind, wrapped in an -old fur cloak made of Calabar skins, looking as shabby as cats’. All -three, without bonnets, had their hair enveloped in lace wraps, -head-dresses which caused the last passers-by to look back, surprised at -seeing them glide along the houses, one by one, with bent backs, and their -eyes fixed on the puddles. And the mother’s exasperation increased still -more at the recollection of many similar returns home, for three winters -past, hampered by their gay dresses, amidst the black mud of the streets -and the jeers of belated blackguards. No, decidedly, she had had enough of -dragging her young ladies about to the four corners of Paris, without -daring to venture on the luxury of a cab, for fear of having to omit a -dish from the morrow’s dinner! -</p> - -<p> -“And she makes marriages!” said she out loud, returning to Madame -Dambreville, and talking alone to ease herself, without even addressing -her daughters, who had turned down the Rue Saint-Honoré. “They are pretty, -her marriages! A lot of impertinent minxes, who come from no one knows -where! Ah! if one was not obliged! It’s like her last success, that bride -whom she brought out, to show us that it did not always fail; a fine -specimen! a wretched child who had to be sent back to her convent for six -months, after a little mistake, to be re-whitewashed!” -</p> - -<p> -The young girls were crossing the Place du Palais-Royal, when a shower -came on. It was a regular rout. They stopped, slipping, splashing, looking -again at the vehicles passing empty along. -</p> - -<p> -“Walk on!” cried the mother, pitilessly. “We are too near now; it is not -worth two francs. And your brother Léon, who refused to leave with us for -fear of having to pay for the cab! So much the better for him if he gets -what he wants at that lady’s, but we can say that it is not at all decent. -A woman who is over fifty and who only receives young men! An old -nothing-much whom a high personage married to that fool Dambreville, -appointing him head clerk!” -</p> - -<p> -Hortense and Berthe trotted along in the rain, one before the other, -without seeming to hear. When their mother thus eased herself, letting -everything out, and forgetting the wholesome strictness with which she -kept them, it was agreed that they should be deaf. Berthe, however, -revolted on entering the gloomy and deserted Rue de l’Echelle. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, dear!” said she, “the heel of my shoe is coming off. I cannot go a -step further!” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand’s wrath became terrible. -</p> - -<p> -“Just walk on! Do I complain? Is it my place to be out in the street at -such a time and in such weather? It would be different if you had a father -like others! But no, the fine gentleman stays at home taking his ease. It -is always my turn to drag you about; he would never accept the burden. -Well! I declare to you that I have had enough of it. Your father may take -you out in future if he likes; may the devil have me if ever again I -accompany you to houses where I am plagued like that! A man who deceived -me as to his capacities, and who has never yet procured me the least -pleasure! Ah! good heavens! there is one I would not marry now, if it were -to come over again!” -</p> - -<p> -The young ladies no longer protested. They were already acquainted with -this inexhaustible chapter of their mother’s blighted hopes. With their -lace wraps drawn over their faces, their shoes sopping wet, they rapidly -followed the Rue Sainte-Anne. But, in the Rue de Choiseul, at the very -door of her house, a last humiliation awaited Madame Josserand: the -Duveyriers’ carriage splashed her as it passed in. -</p> - -<p> -On the stairs, the mother and the young ladies, worn out and enraged, -recovered their gracefulness when they had to pass before Octave. Only, as -soon as ever their door was closed behind them, they rushed through the -dark apartment, knocking up against the furniture, and tumbled into the -dining-room, where Monsieur Josserand was writing by the feeble light of a -little lamp. -</p> - -<p> -“Failed!” cried Madame Josserand, letting herself fall on to a chair. -</p> - -<p> -And, with a rough gesture, she tore the lace wrap from her head, threw her -fur cloak on to the back of her chair, and appeared in a flaring dress -trimmed with black satin and cut very low in the neck, looking enormous, -her shoulders still beautiful, and resembling a mare’s shining flanks. Her -square face, with its drooping cheeks and too big nose, expressed the -tragic fury of a queen restraining herself from descending to the use of -coarse, vulgar expressions. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah!” said Monsieur Josserand simply, bewildered by this violent entrance. -</p> - -<p> -He kept blinking his eyes and was seized with uneasiness. His wife -positively crushed him when she displayed that giant throat, the full -weight of which he seemed to feel on the nape of his neck. Dressed in an -old thread-bare frock-coat which he was finishing to wear out at home, his -face looking as though tempered and expunged by thirty-five years spent at -an office desk, he watched her for a moment with his big lifeless blue -eyes. Then, after thrusting his grey locks behind his ears, feeling very -embarrassed and unable to find a word to say, he attempted to resume his -work. -</p> - -<p> -“But you do not seem to understand!” resumed Madame Josserand in a shrill -voice. “I tell you that there is another marriage knocked on the head, and -it is the fourth!” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, yes, I know, the fourth,” murmured he. “It is annoying, very -annoying.” -</p> - -<p> -And, to escape from his wife’s terrifying nudity, he turned towards his. -daughters with a good-natured smile. They also were removing their lace -wraps and their opera-cloaks; the elder one was in blue and the younger in -pink; their dresses, too, free in cut and over-trimmed, were like a -provocation. Hortense, with her sallow complexion, and her face spoilt by -a nose like her mother’s, which gave her an air of disdainful obstinacy, -had just turned twenty-three and looked twenty-eight; whilst Berthe, two -years younger, retained all a child’s gracefulness, having, however, the -same features, but more delicate and dazzlingly white, and only menaced -with the coarse family mask after she entered the fifties. -</p> - -<p> -“It will do no good if you go on looking at us for ever!” cried Madame -Josserand. “And, for God’s sake, put your writing away; it worries my -nerves!” -</p> - -<p> -“But, my dear,” said he peacefully, “I am addressing wrappers.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! yes, your wrappers at three francs a thousand! Is it with those three -francs that you hope to marry your daughters?” -</p> - -<p> -Beneath the feeble light of the little lamp, the table was indeed covered -with large sheets of coarse paper, printed wrappers, the blanks of which -Monsieur Josserand filled in for a largo publisher who had several -periodicals. As his salary as cashier did not suffice, he passed whole -nights at this unprofitable labour, working in secret, and seized with -shame at the idea that any one might discover their penury. -</p> - -<p> -“Three francs are three francs,” replied he in his slow, tired voice. -“Those three francs will enable you to add ribbons to your dresses, and to -offer some pastry to your guests on your Tuesdays at home.” -</p> - -<p> -He regretted his words as soon as he had uttered them; for he felt that -they struck Madame Josserand full in the heart, in the most sensitive part -of her wounded pride. A rush of blood purpled her shoulders; she seemed on -the point of breaking out into revengeful utterances; then, by an effort -of dignity, she merely stammered, “Ah! good heavens! ah! good heavens!” -</p> - -<p> -And she looked at her daughters; she magisterially crushed her husband -beneath a shrug of her terrible shoulders, as much as to say, “Eh! you -hear him? what an idiot!” The daughters nodded their heads. Then, seeing -himself beaten, and laying down his pen with regret, the father opened the -“Temps” newspaper, which he brought home every evening from his office. -</p> - -<p> -“Is Saturnin asleep?” sharply inquired Madame Josserand, speaking of her -younger son. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, long ago,” replied he. “I also sent Adèle to bed. And Léon, did you -see him at the Dambrevilles’?” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course! he sleeps there!” she let out in a cry of rancour which she -was unable to restrain. -</p> - -<p> -The father, surprised, naively added, -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! you think so?” -</p> - -<p> -Hortense and Berthe had become deaf again. They faintly smiled, however, -affecting to be busy with their shoes, which were in a pitiful state. To -create a diversion, Madame Josserand tried to pick another quarrel with -Monsieur Josserand; she begged him to take his newspaper away every -morning, not to leave it lying about in the room all day, as he had done -with the previous number, for instance, a number containing the report of -an abominable trial, which his daughters might have read. She well -recognised there his want of morality. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, are we going to bed?” asked Hortense. “I am hungry.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! and I too!” said Berthe. “I am famishing.” -</p> - -<p> -“What! you are hungry!” cried Madame Josserand beside herself. “Did you -not eat any cake there, then? What a couple of geese! You should have -eaten some! I did.” -</p> - -<p> -The young ladies resisted. They were hungry, they were feeling quite ill. -So the mother accompanied them to the kitchen, to see if they could -discover anything. The father at once returned stealthily to his wrappers. -He well knew that, without them, every little luxury in the home would -have disappeared; and that was why, in spite of the scorn and unjust -quarrels, he obstinately remained till daybreak engaged in this secret -work, happy like the worthy man he was whenever he fancied that an extra -piece of lace would hook a rich husband. As they were already stinting the -food, without managing to save sufficient for the dresses and the Tuesday -receptions, he resigned himself to his martyr-like labour, dressed in -rags, whilst the mother and daughters wandered from drawing-room to -drawing-room with flowers in their hair. -</p> - -<p> -“What a stench there is here!” cried Madame Josserand on entering the -kitchen. “To think that I can never get that slut Adèle to leave the -window slightly open! She pretends that the room is so very cold in the -morning.” -</p> - -<p> -She went and opened the window, and from the narrow courtyard separating -the kitchens there rose an icy dampness, the unsavoury odour of a musty -cellar. The candle which Berthe had lighted caused colossal shadows of -naked shoulders to dance upon the wall. -</p> - -<p> -“And what a state the place is in!” continued Madame Josserand, sniffing -about, and poking her nose into all the dirty corners. “She has not -scrubbed her table for a fortnight. Here are plates which have been -waiting to be washed since the day before yesterday. On my word, it is -disgusting! And her sink, just look! smell it now, smell her sink!” -</p> - -<p> -Her rage was lashing itself. She tumbled the crockery about with her arms -white with rice powder and bedecked with gold bangles; she trailed her -flaring dress amidst the grease stains, catching it in cooking utensils -thrown under the tables, risking her hardly earned luxury amongst the -vegetable parings. At last, the discovery of a notched knife made her -anger break all bounds. -</p> - -<p> -“I will turn her into the street to-morrow morning!” -</p> - -<p> -“You will be no better off,” quietly remarked Hortense. “We are never able -to keep anyone. This is the first who has stayed three months. The moment -they begin to get a little decent and know how to make melted butter, off -they go.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand bit her lips. As a matter of fact, Adèle alone, stupid -and lousy, and only lately arrived from her native Brittany, could put up -with the ridiculously vain penury of these middle-class people, who took -advantage of her ignorance and her slovenliness to half starve her. Twenty -times already, on account of a comb found on the bread or of some -abominable stew which gave them all the colic, they had talked of sending -her about her business; then, they had resigned themselves to putting up -with her, in the presence of the difficulty of replacing her, for the -pilferers themselves declined to be engaged, to enter that hole, where -even the lumps of sugar were counted. -</p> - -<p> -“I can’t discover anything!” murmured Berthe, who was rummaging a -cupboard. -</p> - -<p> -The shelves had the melancholy emptiness and the false luxury of families -where inferior meat is purchased, so as to be able to put flowers on the -table. All that was lying about were some white and gold porcelain plates, -perfectly empty, a crumb-brush, the silver-plated handle of which was all -tarnished, and some cruets without a drain of oil or vinegar in them; -there was not a forgotten crust, not a morsel of dessert, not a fruit, nor -a sweet, nor a remnant of cheese. One could feel that Adèle’s hunger never -satisfied, lapped up the rare dribblets of sauce which her betters left at -the bottoms of the dishes, to the extent of rubbing the gilt off. -</p> - -<p> -“But she has gone and eaten all the rabbit!” cried Madame Josserand. -</p> - -<p> -“True,” said Hortense, “there was the tail piece. Ah! no, here it is. It -would have surprised me if she had dared. I shall stick to it, you know. -It is cold, but it is better than nothing!” -</p> - -<p> -Berthe, on her side, was rummaging about, but without result. At length -her hand encountered a bottle, in which her mother had diluted the -contents of an old pot of jam, so as to manufacture some red currant syrup -for her evening parties. She poured herself out half a glass, saying: -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! an idea! I will soak some bread in this, as it is all there is!” -</p> - -<p> -But Madame Josserand, all anxiety, looked at her sternly. -</p> - -<p> -“Pray, don’t restrain yourself, fill your glass whilst you are about it. -It will be quite sufficient if I offer water to the ladies and gentlemen -to-morrow, will it not?” -</p> - -<p> -Fortunately, the discovery of another of Adèle’s evil doings interrupted -her reprimand. She was still turning about, searching for crimes, when she -caught sight of a volume on the table; and then occurred a supreme -explosion. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! the beast! she has again brought my Lamartine into the kitchen!” -</p> - -<p> -It was a copy of “Jocelyn.” She took it up and rubbed it hard, as though -dusting it; and she kept repeating that she had twenty times forbidden her -to leave it lying about in that way, to write her accounts upon. Berthe -and Hortense, meanwhile, had shared the little piece of bread which -remained; then carrying their suppers away with them, they said that they -would undress first. The mother gave the icy cold stove a last glance, and -returned to the dining-room, tightly holding her Lamartine beneath the -massive flesh of her arm. -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Josserand continued writing. He trusted that his wife would be -satisfied with crushing him with a glance of contempt as she crossed the -room to go to bed. But she again dropped on to a chair, facing him, and -looked at him fixedly without speaking. He felt this look, and was seized -with such uneasiness, that his pen kept sputtering on the flimsy wrapper -paper. -</p> - -<p> -“So it was you who prevented Adèle making a cream for tomorrow evening?” -said she at length. -</p> - -<p> -He raised his head in amazement. -</p> - -<p> -“I, my dear!” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! you will again deny it, as you always do. Then, why has she not made -the cream I ordered? You know very well that before our party to-morrow -Uncle Bachelard is coming to dinner, it is his saint’s-day, which is very -awkward, happening as it does on my reception day. If there is no cream, -we must have an ice, and that will be another five francs squandered!” -</p> - -<p> -He did not attempt to exculpate himself. Not daring to resume his work, he -began to play with his penholder. There was a brief pause. -</p> - -<p> -“To-morrow morning,” resumed Madame Josserand, “you will oblige me by -calling on the Campardons and reminding them very politely, if you can, -that we are expecting to see them in the evening. Their young man arrived -this afternoon. Ask them to bring him with them. Do you understand? I wish -him to come.” -</p> - -<p> -“What young man?” -</p> - -<p> -“A young man; it would take too long to explain everything to you. I have -obtained all necessary information about him. I am obliged to try -everything, as you leave your daughters entirely to me, like a bundle of -rubbish, without occupying yourself about marrying them any more than -about marrying the Grand Turk.” -</p> - -<p> -The thought revived her anger. -</p> - -<p> -“You see, I contain myself, but it is more, oh! it is more than I can -stand! Say nothing, sir, say nothing, or really my anger will get the -better of me.” -</p> - -<p> -He said nothing, but she vented her wrath upon him all the same. -</p> - -<p> -“It has become unbearable! I warn you, that one of these mornings I shall -go off, and leave you here with your two idiotic daughters. Was I born to -live such a skinflint life as this? Always cutting farthings into four, -never even having a decent pair of boots, and not being able to receive my -friends decently! And all that through your fault! Ah! do not shake your -head, do not exasperate me more than I am already! Yes, your fault! You -deceived me, sir, basely deceived me. One should not marry a woman, when -one is decided to let her want for everything. You played the boaster, you -pretended you had a fine future before you, you were the friend of your -employer’s sons, of those brothers Bemheim, who, since, have merely made a -fool of you. What! You dare to pretend that they have not made a fool of -you! But you ought to be their partner by now? It is you who made their -business what it is, one of the first glass-houses in Paris, and you have -remained their cashier, a subordinate, a hireling. Really! you have no -spirit; hold your tongue.” -</p> - -<p> -“I get eight thousand francs a year,” murmured the cashier. “It is a very -good berth.” -</p> - -<p> -“A good berth, after more than thirty years’ labour?” resumed Madame -Josserand. “They grind you down, and you are delighted. Do you know what I -would have done, had I been in your place? well! I would have put the -business into my pocket twenty times over. It was so easy. I saw it when I -married you, and since then I have never ceased advising you to do so. But -it required some initiative and intelligence; it was a question of not -going to sleep on your leather-covered stool, like a blockhead.” -</p> - -<p> -“Come,” interrupted Monsieur Josserand, “are you going to reproach me now -with being honest?” -</p> - -<p> -She jumped up, and advanced towards him, flourishing her Lamartine. -</p> - -<p> -“Honest! in what way do you mean? Begin by being honest towards me. Others -do not count till afterwards, I hope! And I repeat, sir, it is not honest -to take a young girl in, pretending to be ambitious to become rich some -day, and then to end by losing what little wits you had in looking after -somebody else’s cashbox. On my word, I was nicely swindled! Ah! if it were -to happen over again, and if I had only known your family!” -</p> - -<p> -She was walking violently about. He could not restrain a slight sign of -impatience, in spite of his great desire for peace. -</p> - -<p> -“You would do better to go to bed, Eléonore,” said he. “It is past one -o’clock, and I assure you this work is pressing. My family has done you no -harm, so do not speak of it.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! and why, pray? Your family is no more sacred than another, I suppose. -Every one at Clermont knows that your father, after selling his business -of solicitor, let himself be ruined by a servant. You might have seen your -daughters married long ago, had he not taken up with a strumpet when over -seventy. There is another who has swindled me!” -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Josserand turned pale. He replied in a trembling voice, which -rose higher as he went on: -</p> - -<p> -“Listen, do not let us throw our relations at each other’s heads. Your -father never paid me your dowry, the thirty thousand francs he promised.” -</p> - -<p> -“Eh? what? thirty thousand francs!” -</p> - -<p> -“Exactly; don’t pretend to be surprised. And if my father met with -misfortunes, yours behaved in a most disgraceful way towards us. I was -never able to find out clearly what he left. There were all sorts of -underhand dealings, so that the school in the Rue des Fossés-Saint-Victor -should remain with your sister’s husband, that shabby usher who no longer -recognises us now. We were robbed as though in a wood.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand, now ghastly white, was choking with rage before her -husband’s inconceivable revolt. -</p> - -<p> -“Do not say a word against papa! For forty years he was a credit to -instruction. Go and talk of the Bachelard Academy in the neighbourhood of -the Panthéon! And as for my sister and my brother-in-law, they are what -they are. They have robbed me, I know; but it is not for you to say so. I -will not permit it, understand that! Do I speak to you of your sister, who -eloped with an officer? Oh! you have indeed some nice relations!” -</p> - -<p> -“An officer who married her, madame. There is uncle Bachelard, too, your -brother, a man totally destitute of all morality—” -</p> - -<p> -“But you are becoming cracked, sir! He is rich, he earns what he pleases -as a commission merchant, and he has promised to provide Berthe’s dowry. -Do you then respect nothing?” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! yes, provide Berthe’s dowry! Will you bet that he will give a sou, -and that we shall not have had to put up with his nasty habits for -nothing? He makes me feel ashamed of him every time he comes here. A liar, -a rake, a person who takes advantage of the situation, who for fifteen -years past, seeing us all on our knees before his fortune, has been taking -me every Saturday to spend two hours in his office, to go over his books! -It saves him five francs. We have never yet been favoured with a single -present from him.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand, catching her breath, was wrapped for a moment in -thought. Then she uttered this last cry: -</p> - -<p> -“And you have a nephew in the police, sir!” -</p> - -<p> -A fresh pause ensued. The light from the little lamp was becoming dimmer, -wrappers were flying about beneath Monsieur Josserand’s feverish gestures; -and he looked his wife full in the face—his wife in her low neck -dress—determined to say everything, and quivering with courage. -</p> - -<p> -“With eight thousand francs a year one can do many things,” resumed he. -“You are always complaining. But you should not have arranged your -housekeeping on a footing superior to our means. It is your mania for -receiving and for paying visits, of having your at homes, of giving tea -and pastry—“? -</p> - -<p> -She did not let him finish. -</p> - -<p> -“Now we have come to it! Shut me up in a box at once. Reproach me for not -walking out as naked as my hand. And your daughters, sir, who will marry -them if we never see any one? We don’t see many people as it is. It does -well to sacrifice oneself, to be judged afterwards with such meanness of -heart!” -</p> - -<p> -“We have all of us, madame, sacrificed ourselves. Léon had to make way for -his sisters; and he left the house to earn his own living without any -assistance from us. As for Saturnin, poor child, he does not even know how -to read. And I deny myself everything; I pass my nights—” -</p> - -<p> -“Why did you have daughters then, sir? You are surely not going to -reproach them with their education, I hope? Any other man in your place -would be proud of Hortense’s diploma and of Berthe’s talents. The dear -child again delighted every one this evening with her waltz, the ‘Banks of -the Oise,’ and her last painting will certainly enchant our guests -to-morrow. But you, sir, you are not even a father; you would have sent -your children to take cows to grass, instead of sending them to school.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well! I took out an assurance for Berthe’s benefit Was it not you, -madame, who, when the fourth payment became due, made use of the money to -cover the drawing-room furniture? And, since then, you have even -negotiated the premiums that had been paid.” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course! as you leave us to die of hunger. Ah! you may indeed bite your -fingers, if your daughters become old maids.” -</p> - -<p> -“Bite my fingers! But, Jove’s thunder! it is you who frighten the likely -men away, with your dresses and your ridiculous parties!” -</p> - -<p> -Never before had Monsieur Josserand gone so far. Madame Josserand, -suffocating, stammered forth the words: “I—I ridiculous!” when the -door opened. Hortense and Berthe were returning, in their petticoats and -little calico jackets, their hair let down, and their feet in old -slippers. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, well! it is too cold in our room!” said Berthe shivering. “The food -freezes in your mouth. Here, at least, there has been a fire this -evening.” -</p> - -<p> -And both dragging their chairs along the floor, seated themselves close to -the stove, which still retained a little warmth. Hortense held her rabbit -bone in the tips of her fingers, and was skilfully picking it. Berthe -dipped pieces of bread in her glass of syrup. The parents, however, were -so excited that they did not even appear to notice their arrival. They -continued: -</p> - -<p> -“Ridiculous—ridiculous, sir! I shall not be ridiculous again! Let my -head be cut off if I wear out another pair of gloves in trying to get them -husbands. It is your turn now! And try not to be more ridiculous than I -have been!” -</p> - -<p> -“I daresay, madame, now that you have exhibited them and compromised them -everywhere! Whether you marry them or whether you don’t, I don’t care a -button!” -</p> - -<p> -“And I care less, Monsieur Josserand! I care so little that I will bundle -them out into the street if you aggravate me much more. And if you have a -mind to, you can follow them, the door is open. Ah, heavens! what a good -riddance!” -</p> - -<p> -The young ladies quietly listened, used to these lively recriminations. -They were still eating, their little jackets dropping from their -shoulders, and their bare skin gently rubbing against the lukewarm -earthenware of the stove; and they looked charming in this undress, with -their youth and their hearty appetites and their eyes heavy with sleep. -</p> - -<p> -“You are very foolish to quarrel,” at length observed Hortense, with her -mouth full. “Mamma only spoils her temper, and papa will be ill again -to-morrow at his office. It seems to me that we are old enough to be able -to find husbands for ourselves.” -</p> - -<p> -This created a diversion. The father, thoroughly exhausted, made a feint -of returning to his wrappers; and he sat with his nose over the paper, -unable to write, his hands trembling violently. The mother, who had been -moving about the room like an escaped lioness, went and planted herself in -front of Hortense. -</p> - -<p> -“If you are speaking for yourself,” cried she, “you are a great ninny! -Your Verdier will never marry you.” -</p> - -<p> -“That is my business,” boldly replied the young girl. -</p> - -<p> -After having contemptuously refused five or six suitors, a little clerk, -the son of a tailor, and other young fellows whose prospects she did not -consider good enough, she had ended by setting her cap at a barrister, -whom she had met at the Dambrevilles’, and who was already turned forty. -She considered him very clever, and destined to make a name in the world. -But the misfortune was that for fifteen years past Verdier had been living -with a mistress, who in the neighbourhood even passed for his wife. She -knew of this, though, and by no means let it trouble her. -</p> - -<p> -“My child,” said the father, raising his head once more, “I begged you not -to think of this marriage. You know the situation.” -</p> - -<p> -She stopped sucking her bone, and said with an air of impatience: -</p> - -<p> -“What of it? Verdier has promised me he will leave her. She is a fool.” -</p> - -<p> -“You are wrong, Hortense, to speak in that way. And if he should also -leave you one day to return to her whom you would have caused him to -abandon?” -</p> - -<p> -“That is my business,” sharply retorted the young woman. -</p> - -<p> -Berthe listened, fully acquainted with this matter, the contingencies of -which she discussed daily with her sister. She was, besides, like her -father, all in favour of the poor woman, whom it was proposed to turn out -into the street, after having performed a wife’s duties for fifteen years. -But Madame Josserand intervened. -</p> - -<p> -“Leave off, do! those wretched women always end by returning to the -gutter. Only, it is Verdier who will never bring himself to leave her. He -is fooling you, my dear. In your place, I would not wait a second for him; -I would try and find some one else.” -</p> - -<p> -Hortense’s voice became sourer still, whilst two livid spots appeared on -her cheeks. -</p> - -<p> -“Mamma, you know how I am. I want him, and I will have him. I will never -marry any one else, even though he kept me waiting a hundred years.” -</p> - -<p> -The mother shrugged her shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -“And you call others fools!” -</p> - -<p> -But the young girl rose up, quivering with rage. -</p> - -<p> -“Here! don’t go pitching into me!” cried she. “I have finished my rabbit. -I prefer to go to bed. As you are unable to find us husbands, you must let -us find them in our own way.” -</p> - -<p> -And she withdrew, violently slamming the door behind her. -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand turned majestically towards her husband, and uttered this -profound remark: -</p> - -<p> -“That, sir, is the result of your bringing up!” -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Josserand did not protest; he was occupied in dotting his thumb -nail with ink, whilst waiting till they allowed him to resume his writing. -Berthe, who had eaten her bread, dipped a finger in the glass to finish up -her syrup. She felt comfortable, with her back nice and warm, and did not -hurry herself, being undesirous of encountering her sister’s quarrelsome -temper in their bedroom. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! and that is the reward!” continued Madame Josserand, resuming her -walk to and fro across the dining-room. “For twenty years one wears -oneself out for these young ladies, one goes in want of everything in -order to make them accomplished women, and they will not even let one have -the satisfaction of seeing them married according to one’s own fancy. It -would be different, if they had ever been refused a single thing! But I -have never kept a sou for myself, and have even gone without clothes to -dress them as though we had an income of fifty thousand francs. No, really, -it is too absurd! When those hussies have had a careful education, have -got just as much religion as is necessary, and the airs of rich girls, -they leave you in the lurch, they talk of marrying barristers, -adventurers, who lead lives of debauchery!” -</p> - -<p> -She stopped before Berthe, and, menacing her with her finger, said: -</p> - -<p> -“As for you, if you follow your sister’s example, you will have me to deal -with.” -</p> - -<p> -Then she recommenced stamping round the room, speaking to herself, jumping -from one idea to another, contradicting herself with the brazenness of a -woman who will always be in the right. -</p> - -<p> -“I did what I ought to do, and were it to be done over again I should do -the same. In life, it is only the most shamefaced who lose. Money is -money; when one has none, one may as well retire. Whenever I had twenty -sous, I always said I had forty; for that is real wisdom, it is better to -be envied than pitied. It is no use having a good education if one has not -good clothes to wear, for then people despise you. It is not just, but it -is so. I would sooner wear dirty petticoats than a cotton dress. Feed on -potatoes, but have a chicken when you have any one to dinner. And only -fools would say the contrary!” -</p> - -<p> -She looked fixedly at her husband, to whom these last reflections were -addressed. The latter, worn out, and declining another battle, had the -cowardice to declare: -</p> - -<p> -“It is true; money is everything in our days.” -</p> - -<p> -“You hear,” resumed Madame Josserand, returning towards her daughter. “Go -straight ahead and try to give us satisfaction. How is it you let this -marriage fall through?” -</p> - -<p> -Berthe understood that her turn had come. -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know, mamma,” murmured she “A second head-clerk in a government -office,” continued the mother; “not yet thirty, with a splendid future -before him. Every month he would be bringing you his money; it is -something substantial that, there is nothing like it. You have been up to -some tomfoolery again, just the same as with the others.” -</p> - -<p> -“I have not, mamma, I assure you. He must have obtained some information—have -heard that I had no money.” -</p> - -<p> -But Madame Josserand cried out at this. -</p> - -<p> -“And the dowry that your uncle is going to give you! Every one knows about -that dowry. No, there is something else; he withdrew too abruptly. When -dancing you passed into the parlour.” -</p> - -<p> -Berthe became confused. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, mamma. And, as we were alone, he even tried to do some naughty -things; he kissed me, seizing hold of me like that. Then I was frightened; -I pushed him up against the furniture—” -</p> - -<p> -Her mother, again overcome with rage, interrupted her. -</p> - -<p> -“Pushed him up against the furniture, ah! the wretched girl pushed him up -against the furniture!” -</p> - -<p> -“But, mamma, he held me—” -</p> - -<p> -“What of it? He held you, that was nothing! A fat lot of good it is -sending such fools to school! Whatever did they teach you, eh?” -</p> - -<p> -A rush of colour rose to the young girl’s cheeks and shoulders. Tears -filled her eyes, whilst she looked as confused as a violated virgin. -</p> - -<p> -“It was not my fault; he looked so wicked. I did not know what to do.” -</p> - -<p> -“Did not know what to do! she did not know what to do! Have I not told you -a hundred times that your fears are ridiculous? It is your lot to live in -society. When a man is rough, it is because he loves you, and there is -always a way of keeping him in his place in a nice manner. For a kiss -behind a door! in truth now, ought you to mention such a thing to us, your -parents? And you push people against the furniture, and you drive away -your suitors!” -</p> - -<p> -She assumed a doctoral air as she continued: -</p> - -<p> -“It is ended; I despair of doing anything with you, you are too stupid, my -girl. One would have to coach you in everything, and that would be -awkward. As you have no fortune, understand at least that you must hook -the men by some other means. One should be amiable, have loving eyes, -abandon one’s hand occasionally, allow a little playfulness, without -seeming to do so; in short, one should angle for a husband. You make a -great mistake, if you think it improves your eyes to cry like a fool!” -</p> - -<p> -Berthe was sobbing. -</p> - -<p> -“You aggravate me—leave off crying. Monsienr Josserand, just tell -your daughter not to spoil her face by crying in that way. It will be too -much if she becomes ugly!” -</p> - -<p> -“My child,” said the father, “be reasonable; listen to your mother’s good -advice. You must not spoil your good looks, my darling.” -</p> - -<p> -“And what irritates me is that she is not so bad when she likes,” resumed -Madame Josserand. “Come, wipe your eyes, look at me as if I was a -gentleman courting you. You smile, you drop your fan, so that the -gentleman, in picking it up, slightly touches your fingers. That is not -the way. You are holding you head up too stiffly, you look like a sick -hen. Lean back more, show your neck; it is too young to be hidden.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then, like this, mamma?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, that is better. And never be stiff, be supple. Men do not care for -planks. And, above all, if they go too far do not play the simpleton. A -man who goes too far is done for, my dear.” -</p> - -<p> -The drawing-room clock struck two; and, in the excitement of that -prolonged vigil, in her desire now become furious for an immediate -marriage, the mother forgot herself in thinking out loud, making her -daughter turn about like a papier-mache doll. The latter, without spirit -or will, abandoned herself; but she felt very heavy at heart, fear and -shame brought a lump to her throat. Suddenly, in the midst of a silvery -laugh which her mother was forcing her to attempt, she burst into sobs, -her face all upset: -</p> - -<p> -“No! no! it pains me!” stammered she, -</p> - -<p> -For a second, Madame Josserand remained incensed and amazed. Ever since -she left the Dambrevilles’, her hand had been itching, there were slaps in -the air. Then, she landed Berthe a clout with all her might. -</p> - -<p> -“Take that! you are too aggravating! What a fool! On my word, the men are -right!” -</p> - -<p> -In the shock, her Lamartine, which she had kept under her arm, fell to the -floor. She picked it up, wiped it, and without adding another word, she -retired into the bedroom, royally drawing her ball-dress around her. -</p> - -<p> -“It was bound to end thus,” murmured Monsieur Josserand, not daring to -detain his daughter, who went off also, holding her cheek and crying -louder than ever. -</p> - -<p> -But, as Berthe felt her way across the ante-room, she found her brother -Saturnin up, barefooted and listening. Saturnin was a big, ill-formed -fellow of twenty-five, with wild-looking eyes, and who had remained -childish after an attack of brain-fever. Without being mad, he terrified -the household by attacks of blind violence, whenever he was thwarted. -Berthe, alone, was able to subdue him with a look. He had nursed her when -she was still quite a child, through a long illness, obedient as a dog to -her little invalid girl’s caprices; and, ever since he had saved her, he -was seized with an adoration for her, into which entered every kind of -love. -</p> - -<p> -“Has she been beating you again?” asked he in a low and ardent voice. -</p> - -<p> -Berthe, uneasy at finding him there, tried to send him away. -</p> - -<p> -“Go to bed, it is nothing to do with you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, it is. I will not have her beat you! She woke me up, she was -shouting so. She had better not try it on again, or I will strike her!” -</p> - -<p> -Then, she seized him by the wrists, and spoke to him as to a disobedient -animal. He submitted at once, and stuttered, crying like a little boy: -</p> - -<p> -“It hurts you very much, does it not? Where is the sore place, that I may -kiss it?” -</p> - -<p> -And, having found her cheek in the dark, he kissed it, wetting it with his -tears, as he repeated: -</p> - -<p> -“It is well, now, it is well, now.” -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, Monsieur Josserand, left alone, had laid down his pen, his -heart was so full of grief. At the end of a few minutes, he got up gently -to go and listen at the doors. Madame Josserand was snoring. No sounds of -crying issued from his daughters’ room. All was dark and peaceful. Then he -returned, feeling slightly relieved. He saw to the lamp which was smoking, -and mechanically resumed his writing. Two big tears, unfelt by him, -dropped on to the wrappers, in the solemn silence of the slumbering house. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> -CHAPTER III. -</h2> - -<p class="pfirst"> -<span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>o soon as the fish -was served, skate of doubtful freshness with black butter, which that -bungler Adèle had drowned in a flood of vinegar, Hortense and Berthe, -seated on the right and left of uncle Bachelard, incited him to drink, -filling his glass one after the other, and repeating: -</p> - -<p> -“It’s your saint’s-day, drink now, drink! Here’s your health, uncle!” -</p> - -<p> -They had plotted together to make him give them twenty francs. Every year, -their provident mother placed them thus on either side of her brother, -abandoning him to them. But it was a difficult task, and required all the -greediness of two girls prompted by dreams of Louis XV. shoes and five -button gloves. To get him to give the twenty francs, it was necessary to -make the uncle completely drunk. He was ferociously miserly whenever he -found himself amongst his relations, though out of doors he squandered in -crapulous boozes the eighty thousand francs he made each year out of his -commission business. Fortunately, that evening, he was already half -fuddled when he arrived, having passed the afternoon with the wife of a -dyer of the Faubourg Montmartre, who kept a stock of Marseilles vermouth -expressly for him. -</p> - -<p> -“Your health, my little ducks!” replied he each time, with his thick husky -voice, as he emptied his glass. -</p> - -<p> -Covered with jewellery, a rose in his button-hole, enormous in build, he -filled the middle of the table, with his broad shoulders of a boozing and -brawling tradesman, who has wallowed in every vice. His false teeth lit up -with too harsh a whiteness his ravaged face, the big red nose of which -blazed beneath the snowy crest of his short cropped hair; and, now and -again, his eyelids dropped of themselves over his pale and misty eyes. -Gueulin, the son of one of his wife’s sisters, affirmed that his uncle had -not been sober during the ten years he had been a widower. -</p> - -<p> -“Narcisse, a little skate, I can recommend it,” said Madame Josserand, -smiling at her brother’s tipsy condition, though at heart it made her feel -rather disgusted. -</p> - -<p> -She was sitting opposite to him, having little Gueulin on her left, and -another young man on her right, Hector Trublot, to whom she was desirous -of showing some politeness. She usually took advantage of family -gatherings like the present to get rid of certain invitations she had to -return; and it was thus that a lady living in the house, Madame Juzeur, -was also present, seated next to Monsieur Josserand. As the uncle behaved -very badly at table, and it was the expectation of his fortune alone which -enabled them to put up with him without absolute disgust, she only had -intimate acquaintances to meet him or else persons whom she thought it was -no longer worth while trying to dazzle. For instance, she had at one time -thought of finding a son-in-law in young Trublot, who was employed at a -stockbroker’s, whilst waiting till his father, a wealthy man, purchased -him a share in the business; but, Trublot having professed a determined -objection to matrimony, she no longer stood upon ceremony with him, even -placing him next to Saturnin, who had never known how to eat decently. -Berthe, who always had a seat beside her brother, was commissioned to -subdue him with a look, whenever he put his fingers too much into the -gravy. -</p> - -<p> -After the fish came a meat pie, and the young ladies thought the moment -arrived to commence their attack. -</p> - -<p> -“Take another glass, uncle!” said Hortense. “It is your saint’s day. Don’t -you give anything when it’s your saint’s-day?” -</p> - -<p> -“Dear me! why of course,” added Berthe naively. “People always give -something on their saint’s-day. You must give us twenty francs.” -</p> - -<p> -On hearing them speak of money, Bachelard at once exaggerated his tipsy -condition. It was his usual dodge; his eyelids dropped, and he became -quite idiotic. -</p> - -<p> -“Eh? what?” stuttered he. -</p> - -<p> -“Twenty francs. You know very well what twenty francs are, it is no use -your pretending you don’t,” resumed Berthe. “Give us twenty francs, and we -will love you, oh! we will love you so much!” -</p> - -<p> -They threw their arms round his neck, called him the most endearing names, -and kissed his inflamed face without the least repugnance for the horrid -odour of debauchery which he exhaled. Monsieur Josserand, whom these -continual fumes of absinthe, tobacco and musk upset, had a feeling of -disgust on seeing his daughters’ virgin charms rubbing up against those -infamies gathered in the vilest places. -</p> - -<p> -“Leave him alone!” cried he. -</p> - -<p> -“Why?” asked Madame Josserand, giving her husband a terrible look. “They -are amusing themselves. If Narcisse wishes to give them twenty francs, he -is quite at liberty to do so.” -</p> - -<p> -“Monsieur Bachelard is so good to them!” complacently murmured little -Madame Juzeur. -</p> - -<p> -But the uncle struggled, becoming more idiotic than ever, and repeating, -with his mouth full of saliva: -</p> - -<p> -“It’s funny. I don’t know, word of honour! I don’t know.” -</p> - -<p> -Then, Hortense and Berthe, exchanging a glance, released him. No doubt he -had not had enough to drink. And they again resorted to filling his glass, -laughing like courtesans who intend robbing a man. Their bare arms, of an -adorable youthful plumpness, kept passing every minute under the uncle’s -big flaming nose. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, Trublot, like a quiet fellow who takes his pleasures alone, was -watching Adèle as she turned heavily round the table. Being very -short-sighted he thought her pretty, with her pronounced Breton features -and her hair the colour of dirty hemp. When she brought in the roast, a -piece of veal, she leant right over his shoulder, to reach the centre of -the table; and he, pretending to pick up his napkin, gave her a good pinch -on the calf of her leg. The servant, not understanding, looked at him, as -though he had asked her for some bread. -</p> - -<p> -“What is it?” said Madame Josserand. “Did she knock against you, sir? Oh! -that girl! she is so awkward! But, you know, she is quite new to the work; -she will be better when she has had a little training.” -</p> - -<p> -“No doubt, there is no harm done,” replied Trublot, stroking his bushy -black beard with the serenity of a young Indian god. -</p> - -<p> -The conversation was becoming more animated in the diningroom, at first -icy cold, and now gradually warming with the fumes of the dishes. Madame -Juzeur was once more confiding to Monsieur Josserand the dreariness of her -thirty years of solitary existence. She raised her eyes to heaven, and -contented herself with this discreet allusion to the drama of her life: -her husband had left her after ten days of married bliss, and no one knew -why; she said nothing more. Now, she lived by herself in a lodging that -was as soft as down and always closed, and which was frequented by -priests. -</p> - -<p> -“It is so sad, at my age!” murmured she languishingly, cutting up her veal -with delicate gestures. -</p> - -<p> -“A very unfortunate little woman,” whispered Madame Josserand in Trublot’s -ear, with an air of profound sympathy. -</p> - -<p> -But Trublot glanced indifferently at this clear-eyed devotee, so full of -reserve and hidden meanings. She was not his style. -</p> - -<p> -Then there was a regular panic. Saturnin, whom Berthe was not watching so -closely, being too busy with her uncle, had amused himself by cutting up -his meat into various designs on his plate. This poor creature exasperated -his mother, who was both afraid and ashamed of him; she did not know how -to get rid of him, not daring through pride to make a workman of him, -after having sacrificed him to his sisters by having removed him from the -school where his slumbering intelligence was too long awakening; and, -during the years he had been hanging about the house, useless and stinted, -she was in a constant state of fright whenever she had to let him appear -before company. Her pride suffered cruelly. -</p> - -<p> -“Saturnin!” cried she. -</p> - -<p> -But Saturnin began to chuckle, delighted with the mess he had made in his -plate. He did not respect his mother, but called her roundly a great liar -and a horrid nuisance, with the perspicacity of madmen who think out loud. -Things certainly seemed to be going wrong. He would have thrown his plate -at her head, if Berthe, reminded of her duties, had not looked him -straight in the face. He tried to resist; then the fire in his eyes died -out; he remained gloomy and depressed on his chair, as though in a dream, -until the end of the meal. -</p> - -<p> -“I hope, Gueulin, that you have brought your flute?” asked Madame -Josserand, trying to dispel her guests’ uneasiness. -</p> - -<p> -Gueulin was an amateur flute-player, but solely in the houses where he was -treated without ceremony. -</p> - -<p> -“My flute! Of course I have,” replied he. -</p> - -<p> -He was absent-minded, his carroty hair and whiskers were more bristly than -usual, as he watched with deep interest the young ladies’ manoeuvres -around their uncle. Employed at an assurance office, he would go straight -to Bachelard on leaving off work, and stick to him, visiting the same -cafés and the same disreputable places. Behind the big, ill-shaped body of -the one, the little pale face of the other was sure always to be seen. -</p> - -<p> -“Cheerily, there! stick to him!” said he, suddenly, like a true sportsman. -</p> - -<p> -The uncle was indeed losing ground. When, after the vegetables, French -beans swimming in water, Adèle placed a vanilla and currant ice on the -table, it caused unexpected delight amongst the guests; and the young -ladies took advantage of the situation to make the uncle drink half of the -bottle of champagne, which Madame Josserand had bought for three francs of -a neighbouring grocer. He was becoming quite affectionate, and forgetting -his pretended idiocy. -</p> - -<p> -“Eh, twenty francs! Why twenty francs? Ah! you want twenty francs! But I -have not got them, really now. Ask Gueulin. Is it not true, Gueulin, that -I forgot my purse, and that you had to pay at the café? If I had them, my -little ducks, I would give them to you, you are so nice.” -</p> - -<p> -Gueulin was laughing in his cool way, making a noise like a pulley that -required greasing. And he murmured: -</p> - -<p> -“The old swindler!” -</p> - -<p> -Then, suddenly, unable to restrain himself, he cried: -</p> - -<p> -“Search him!” -</p> - -<p> -So Hortense and Berthe again threw themselves on the uncle, this time -without the least restraint. The desire for the twenty francs, which their -good education had hitherto kept within bounds, bereft them of their -senses in the end, and they forgot everything else. The one, with both -hands, examined his waistcoat pockets, whilst the other buried her fingers -inside the pockets of his frock-coat. The uncle, however, pressed back on -his chair, still struggled; but he gradually burst out into a laugh—a -laugh broken by drunken hiccoughs. -</p> - -<p> -“On my word of honour, I haven’t a sou! Leave off, do; you’re tickling -me.” -</p> - -<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> -<img src="images/0073.jpg" alt="0073 " width="100%" /> -</div> - -<p> -“In the trousers!” energetically exclaimed Gueulin, excited by the -spectacle. -</p> - -<p> -And Berthe resolutely searched one of the trouser pockets. -</p> - -<p> -Their hands trembled; they were both becoming exceedingly rough, and could -have smacked the uncle. But Berthe uttered a cry of victory: from the -depths of the pocket she brought forth a handful of money, which she -spread out in a plate; and there, amongst a heap of coppers and pieces of -silver, was a twenty-franc piece. -</p> - -<p> -“I have it!” said she, her face all red, her hair undone, as she tossed -the coin in the air and caught it again. -</p> - -<p> -There was a general clapping of hands, every one thought it very funny. It -created quite a hubbub, and was the success of the dinner. Madame -Josserand looked at her daughters with a mother’s tender smile. The uncle, -who was gathering up his money, sententiously observed that, when one -wanted twenty francs, one should earn them. And the young ladies, worn out -and satisfied, were panting on his right and left, their lips still -trembling in the enervation of their desire. -</p> - -<p> -A bell was heard to ring. They had been eating slowly, and the other -guests were already arriving. Monsieur Josserand, who had decided to laugh -like his wife, enjoyed singing some of Béranger’s songs at table; but as -this outraged his better half’s poetic tastes, she compelled him to keep -quiet. She got the dessert over as quickly as possible, more especially -as, since the forced present of the twenty francs, the uncle had been -trying to pick a quarrel, complaining that his nephew, Léon, had not -deigned to put himself out to come and wish him many happy returns of the -day. Léon was only coming to the evening party. At length, as they were -rising from table, Adèle said that the architect from the floor below and -a young man were in the drawing-room. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! yes, that young man,” murmured Madame Juzeur, accepting Monsieur -Josserand’s arm. “So you have invited him? I saw him to-day talking to the -doorkeeper. He is very good-looking.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand was taking Trublot’s arm, when Saturnin, who had been -left by himself at the tableland who had not been roused from slumbering -with his eyes open by all the uproar about the twenty francs, kicked back -his chair, in a sudden outburst of fury, shouting: -</p> - -<p> -“I won’t have it, damnation! I won’t have it!” -</p> - -<p> -It was the very thing his mother always dreaded. She signalled to Monsieur -Josserand to take Madame Juzeur away. Then she freed herself from Trublot, -who understood, and disappeared; but he probably made a mistake, for he -went off in the direction of the kitchen, close upon Adèle’s heels. -Bachelard and Gueulin, without troubling themselves about the maniac, as -they called him, chuckled in a corner, whilst playfully slapping one -another. -</p> - -<p> -“He was so peculiar, I felt there would be something this evening,” -murmured Madame Josserand, uneasily. “Berthe, come quick!” -</p> - -<p> -But Berthe was showing the twenty-franc piece to Hortense. Saturnin had -caught up a knife. He repeated: -</p> - -<p> -“Damnation! I won’t have it! I’ll rip their stomachs open!” -</p> - -<p> -“Berthe!” called her mother in despair. -</p> - -<p> -And, when the young girl hastened to the spot, she only just had time to -seize him by the hand and prevent him from entering the drawing-room. She -shook him angrily, whilst he tried to explain, with his madman’s logic. -</p> - -<p> -“Let me be, I must settle them. I tell you it’s best. I’ve had enough of -their dirty ways. They’ll sell the whole lot of us.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! this is too much!” eried Berthe. “What is the matter with you? what -are you talking about?” -</p> - -<p> -He looked at her in a bewildered way, trembling with a gloomy rage, and -stuttered: -</p> - -<p> -“They’re going to marry you again. Never, you hear! I won’t have you -hurt.” -</p> - -<p> -The young girl eould not help laughing. Where had he got the idea from -that they were going to marry her? But he nodded his head: he knew it, he -felt it. And as his mother intervened to try and calm him, he grasped his -knife so tightly that she drew back. However, she trembled for fear he -should be overheard, and hastily told Berthe to take him away and lock him -in his room; whilst he, becoming crazier than ever, raised his voice: -</p> - -<p> -“I won’t have you married, I won’t have you hurt. If they marry you, I’ll -rip their stomachs open.” -</p> - -<p> -Then Berthe put her hands on his shoulders, and looked him straight in the -face. -</p> - -<p> -“Listen,” said she, “keep quiet, or I will not love you any more.” -</p> - -<p> -He staggered, despair softened the expression of his face, his eyes filled -with tears. -</p> - -<p> -“You won’t love me any more, you won’t love me any more. Don’t say that. -Oh! I implore you, say that you will love me still, say that you will love -me always, and that you will never love any one else.” -</p> - -<p> -She had seized him by the wrist, and she led him away as gentle as a -child. -</p> - -<p> -In the drawing-room Madame Josserand, exaggerating her intimacy, called -Campardon her dear neighbour. Why had Madame Campardon not done her the -great pleasure of coming also? and on the architect replying that his wife -still continued poorly, she exelaimed that they would have been delighted -to have received her in her dressing-gown and her slippers. But her smile -never left Octave, who was conversing with Monsieur Josserand; all her -amiability was directed towards him, over Campardon’s shoulder. When her -husband introduced the young man to her, her cordiality was so great that -the latter felt quite uncomfortable. -</p> - -<p> -Other guests were arriving; stout mothers with skinny daughters, fathers -and uncles scarcely roused from their office drowsiness, pushing before -them flocks of marriageable young ladies. Two lamps, with pink paper -shades, lit up the drawingroom with a pale light, which only faintly -displayed the old, worn, yellow velvet covered furniture, the scratched -piano, and the three smoky Swiss views, which looked like black stains on -the cold, bare, white and gold panels. And, in this miserly light, the -guests—poor, and, so to say, worn-out figures, without resignation, -and whose attire was the cause of much pinching and saving—seemed to -become obliterated. Madame Josserand wore her fiery costume of the day -before; only, with a view of throwing dust in people’s eyes, she had -passed the day in sewing sleeves on to the body, and in making herself a -lace tippet to cover her shoulders; whilst her two daughters, seated -beside her in their dirty cotton jackets, vigorously plied their needles, -rearranging with new trimmings their only presentable dresses, which they -had been thus altering bit by bit ever since the previous winter. -</p> - -<p> -After each ring at the bell, the sound of whispering issued from the -ante-chamber. They conversed in low tones in the gloomy drawing-room, -where the forced laugh of some young lady jarred at times like a false -note. Behind little Madame Juzeur, Bachelard and Gueulin were nudging each -other, and making smutty remarks; and Madame Josserand watched them with -an alarmed look, for she dreaded her brother’s vulgar behaviour. But -Madame Juzeur might hear anything; her lips quivered, and she smiled with -angelic sweetness as she listened to the naughty stories. Uncle Bachelard -had the reputation of being a dangerous man. His nephew, on the contrary, -was chaste. No matter how splendid the opportunities were, Gueulin -declined to have anything to do with women upon principle, not that he -disdained them, but because he dreaded the morrows of bliss: always very -unpleasant, he said. -</p> - -<p> -Berthe at length appeared, and went hurriedly up to her mother. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, well! I have had a deal of trouble!” whispered she in her ear. “He -would not go to bed, so I double-locked the door. But I am afraid he will -break everything in the room.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand violently tugged at her dress. Octave, who was close to -them, had turned his head. -</p> - -<p> -“My daughter, Berthe, Monsieur Mouret,” said she, in her most gracious -manner, as she introduced them. “Monsieur Octave Mouret, my darling.” -</p> - -<p> -And she looked at her daughter. The latter was well acquainted with this -look, which was like an order to clear for action, and which recalled to -her the lessons of the night before. She at once obeyed, with the -complaisance and the indifference of a girl who no longer stops to examine -the person she is to marry. She prettily recited her little part with the -easy grace of a Parisian already weary of the world, and acquainted with -every subject, and she talked enthusiastically of the South, where she had -never been. Octave, used to the stiffness of provincial virgins, was -delighted with this little woman’s cackle and her sociable manner. -</p> - -<p> -Presently, Trublot, who had not been seen since dinner was over, entered -stealthily from the dining-room; and Berthe, catching sight of him, asked -thoughtlessly where he had been. He remained silent, at which she felt -very confused; then, to put an end to the awkward pause which ensued, she -introduced the two young men to each other. Her mother had not taken her -eyes off her; she had assumed the attitude of a commander-in-chief, and -directed the campaign from the easy-chair in which she had settled -herself. When she judged that the first engagement had given all the -result that could have been expected from it, she recalled her daughter -with a sign, and said to her, in a low voice: -</p> - -<p> -“Wait till the Vabre’s are here before commencing your music. And play -loud.” -</p> - -<p> -Octave, left alone with Trublot, began to engage him in conversation. -</p> - -<p> -“A charming person.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, not bad.” -</p> - -<p> -“The young lady in blue is her elder sister, is she not? She is not so -good-looking.” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course not; she is thinner!” -</p> - -<p> -Trublot, who looked without seeing with his near-sighted eyes, had the -broad shoulders of a solid male, obstinate in his tastes. He had come back -from the kitchen perfectly satisfied, crunching little black things which -Octave recognised with surprise to be coffee berries. -</p> - -<p> -“I say,” asked he abruptly, “the women are plump in the South, are they -not?” -</p> - -<p> -Octave smiled, and at once became on an excellent footing with Trublot. -They had many ideas in common which brought them closer together. They -exchanged confidences on an out-of-the-way sofa; the one talked of his -employer at “The Ladies’ Paradise,” Madame Hédouin, a confoundedly fine -woman, but too cold; the other said that he had been put on to the -correspondence, from nine to five, at his stockbroker’s, Monsieur -Desmarquay, where there was a stunning maid servant. Just then the -drawing-room door opened, and three persons entered. -</p> - -<p> -“They are the Vabres,” murmured Trublot, bending over towards his new -friend. “Auguste, the tall one, he who has a face like a sick sheep, is -the landlord’s eldest son—thirty-three years old, ever suffering -from headaches which make his eyes start from his head, and which, some -years ago, prevented him from continuing to learn Latin; a sullen fellow -who has gone in for trade. The other, Théophile, that abortion with -carroty hair and thin beard, that little old-looking man of twenty-eight, -ever shaking with fits of coughing and of rage, tried a dozen different -trades, and then married the young woman who leads the way, Madame Valérie—” -</p> - -<p> -“I have already seen her,” interrupted Octave. “She is the daughter of a -haberdasher of the neighbourhood, is she not? But how those veils deceive -one! I thought her pretty. She is only peculiar, with her shrivelled face -and her leaden complexion.” -</p> - -<p> -“She is another who is not my ideal,” sententiously resumed Trublot. “She -has superb eyes, and that is enough for some men. But she’s a thin piece -of goods.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand had risen to shake Valérie’s hand. -</p> - -<p> -“How is it,” cried she, “that Monsieur Vabre is not with you? and that -neither Monsieur nor Madame Duveyrier have done us the honour of coming? -They promised us though. Ah! it is very wrong of them!” -</p> - -<p> -The young woman made excuses for her father-in-law, whose age kept him at -home, and who, moreover, preferred to work of an evening. As for her -brother and sister-in-law, they had asked her to apologise for them, they -having received an invitation to an official party, which they were -obliged to attend. Madame Josserand bit her lips. She never missed one of -the Saturdays at home of those stuck-up people on the first floor, who -would have thought themselves dishonoured had they ascended, one Tuesday, -to the fourth. No doubt her modest tea was not equal to their grand -orchestral concerts. But, patience! when her two daughters were married, -and she had two sons-in-law and their relations to fill her drawing-room, -she also would go in for choruses. -</p> - -<p> -“Get yourself ready,” whispered she in Berthe’s ear. -</p> - -<p> -They were about thirty, and rather tightly packed, for the parlour, having -been turned into a bedroom for the young ladies, was not thrown open. The -new arrivals distributed handshakes round. Valérie seated herself beside -Madame Juzeur, whilst Bachelard and Gueulin made unpleasant remarks out -loud about Théophile Vabre, whom they thought it funny to call “good for -nothing.” Monsieur Josserand—who in his own home kept himself so -much in the background that one would have taken him for a guest, and whom -one would fail to find when wanted, even though he were standing close by—was -in a corner listening in a bewildered way to a story related by one of his -old friends, Bonnaud. He knew Bonnaud, who was formerly the general -accountant of the Northern railway, and whose daughter had married in the -previous spring? Well! Bonnaud had just discovered that his son-in-law, a -very respectable-looking man, was an ex-clown, who had lived for ten years -at the expense of a female circus-rider. -</p> - -<p> -“Silence! silence!” murmured some good-natured voices. Berthe had opened -the piano. -</p> - -<p> -“Really!” explained Madame Josserand, “it is merely an unpretentious -piece, a simple reverie. Monsieur Mouret, you like music, I think. Come -nearer then. My daughter plays pretty fairly—oh! purely as an -amateur, but with expression; yes, with a great deal of expression.” -</p> - -<p> -“Caught!” said Trublot in a low voice. “The sonata stroke.” Octave was -obliged to leave his seat and stand up beside the piano. To see the -caressing attentions which Madame Josserand showered upon him, it seemed -as though she were making Berthe play solely for him. -</p> - -<p> -“‘The Banks of the Oise,’” resumed she. “It is really very pretty. Come -begin, my love, and do not be confused. Monsieur Mouret will be -indulgent.” -</p> - -<p> -The young girl commenced the piece without being in the least confused. -Besides, her mother kept her eyes upon her like a sergeant ready to punish -with a blow the least theoretical mistake. Her great regret was that the -instrument, worn-out by fifteen years of daily scales, did not possess the -sonorous tones of the Duveyriers’ grand piano; and her daughter never -played loud enough in her opinion. -</p> - -<p> -After the sixth bar, Octave, looking thoughtful and nodding his head at -each spirited passage, no longer listened. He looked at the audience, the -politely absent-minded attention of the men, and the affected delight of -the women, all that relaxation of persons for a moment at rest, but soon -again to be harassed by the cares of every hour, the shadows of which, -before long, would be once more reflected on their weary faces. Mothers -were visibly dreaming that they were marrying their daughters, whilst a -smile hovered about their mouths, revealing their fierce-looking teeth in -their unconscious abandonment; it was the mania of this drawing-room, a -furious appetite for sons-in-law, which consumed these worthy middle-class -mothers to the asthmatic sounds of the piano. -</p> - -<p> -The daughters, who were very weary, were falling asleep, with their heads -dropping on to their shoulders, forgetting to sit up erect. Octave, who -had a certain contempt for young ladies, was more interested in Valerie—she -looked decidedly ugly in her peculiar yellow silk dress, trimmed with -black satin—and feeling ill at ease, yet attracted all the same, his -gaze kept returning to her; whilst she, with a vague look in her eyes, and -unnerved by the discordant music, was smiling like a crazy person. -</p> - -<p> -At this moment quite a catastrophe occurred. A ring at the bell was heard, -and a gentleman entered the room without the least regard for what was -taking place. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! doctor!” said Madame Josserand angrily. -</p> - -<p> -Doctor Juillerat made a gesture of apology, and stood stockstill. Berthe, -at this moment, was executing a little passage with a slow and dreamy -fingering, which the guests greeted with flattering murmurs. Ah! -delightful! delicious! Madame Juzeur was almost swooning away, as though -being tickled. Hortense, who was standing beside her sister, turning the -pages, was sulkily listening for a ring at the bell amidst the avalanche -of notes; and, when the doctor entered, she made such a gesture of -disappointment that she tore one of the pages on the stand. But, suddenly, -the piano trembled beneath Berthe’s weal: fingers, thrumming away like -hammers; it was the end of the reverie, amidst a deafening uproar of -clangorous chords. -</p> - -<p> -There was a moment of hesitation. The audience was waking up again.. Was -it finished? Then the compliments burst out on all sides. Adorable! a -superior talent! -</p> - -<p> -“Mademoiselle is really a first-rate musician,” said Octave, interrupted -in his observations. “No one has ever given me such pleasure.” -</p> - -<p> -“Do you really mean it, sir?” exclaimed Madame Josserand delighted. “She -does not play badly, I must admit. Well! we have never refused the child -anything; she is our treasure! She possesses every talent she wished for. -Ah! sir, if you only knew her.” -</p> - -<p> -A confused murmur of voices again filled the drawing-room. Berthe very -calmly received the praise showered upon her, and did not leave the piano, -but sat waiting till her mother relieved her from fatigue-duty. The latter -was already speaking to Octave of the surprising manner in which her -daughter dashed off “The Harvesters,” a brilliant gallop, when some dull -and distant thuds created a stir amongst the guests. For several moments -past there had been violent shocks, as though some one was trying to burst -a door open. Everybody left off talking, and looked about inquiringly. -</p> - -<p> -“What is it?” Valérie ventured to ask. “I heard it before, during the -finish of the piece.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand had turned quite pale. She had recognised Saturnin’s -blows. Ah! the wretched lunatic! and in her mind’s eye she beheld him -tumbling in amongst the guests. If he continued hammering like that, it -would be another marriage done for! -</p> - -<p> -“It is the kitchen door slamming,” said she with a constrained smile. -“Adèle never will shut it. Go and sec, Berthe.” -</p> - -<p> -The young girl had also understood. She rose and disappeared. The noise -ceased at once, but she did not return immediately. Uncle Bachelard, who -had scandalously disturbed “The Banks of the Oise” with reflections -uttered out loud, finished putting his sister out of countenance by -calling to Gueulin that he felt awfully bored and was going to have a -grog. They both returned to the dining-room, banging the door behind them. -</p> - -<p> -“That dear old Narcisse, he is always original!” said Madame Josserand to -Madame Juzeur and Valérie, between whom she had gone and seated herself. -“His business occupies him so much! You know, he has made almost a hundred -thousand francs this year!” -</p> - -<p> -Octave, at length free, had hastened to rejoin Trublot, who was half -asleep on the sofa. Near them, a group surrounded Doctor Juillerat, the -old medical man of the neighbourhood, not over brilliant, but who had -become in course of time a good practitioner, and who had delivered all -the mothers in their confinements and had attended all the daughters. He -made a speciality of women’s ailments, which caused him to be in great -demand of an evening, the husbands all trying to obtain a gratuitous -consultation in some corner of the drawing-room. Just then, Théophile was -telling him that Valérie had had another attack the day before; she was -for ever having a choking fit and complaining of a lump rising in her -throat; and he, too, was not very well, but his complaint was not the -same. Then he did nothing but speak of himself, and relate his vexations: -he had commenced to read for the law, had engaged in manufactures at a -foundry, and had tried office management at the Mont-de-Piété; then he had -busied himself with photography, and thought he had found a means of -making vehicles supply their own motive power; meanwhile, out of kindness, -he was travelling some piano-flutes, an invention of one of his friends. -And he complained of his wife: it was her fault if nothing went right at -home; she was killing him with her perpetual nervous attacks. -</p> - -<p> -“Do pray give her something, doctor!” implored he, coughing and moaning, -his eyes lit up with hatred, in the querulous rage of his impotency. -</p> - -<p> -Trublot watched him, full of contempt; and he laughed silently as he -glanced at Octave. Doctor Juillerat uttered vague and calming words: no -doubt, they would relieve her, the dear lady. At fourteen, she was already -stifling, in the shop of the Rue Neuve-Saint-Augustin; he had attended her -for vertigo which always ended by bleeding at the nose; and, as Théophile -recalled with despair her languid gentleness when a young girl, whilst -now, fantastic and her temper changing twenty times in a day, she -absolutely tortured him, the doctor merely shook his head. Marriage did -not succeed with all women. -</p> - -<p> -“Of course!” murmured Trublot, “a father who has gone off his chump by -passing thirty years of his life in selling needles and thread, a mother -who has always had her face covered with pimples, and that in an airless -hole of old Paris, no one can expect such people to have daughters like -other folks!” -</p> - -<p> -Octave was surprised. He was losing some of his respect for that -drawing-room which he had entered with a provincial’s emotion. Curiosity -was awakened within him, when he observed Campardon consulting the doctor -in his turn, but in whispers, like a sedate person desirous of letting no -one become acquainted with his family mishaps. -</p> - -<p> -“By the way, as you appear to know everything,” said Octave to Trublot, -“tell me what it is that Madame Campardon is suffering from. Every one -puts on a very sad face whenever it is mentioned.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why, my dear fellow,” replied the young man, “she has—” -</p> - -<p> -And he whispered in Octave’s ear. Whilst he listened, the latter’s face -first assumed a smile, and then became very long with a look of profound -astonishment. -</p> - -<p> -“It is not possible!” said he. -</p> - -<p> -Then, Trublot gave his word of honour. He knew another lady in the same -state. -</p> - -<p> -“Besides,” resumed he, “it sometimes happens after a confinement that—” -</p> - -<p> -And he began to whisper again. Octave, convinced, became quite sad. He who -had fancied all sorts of things, who had imagined quite a romance, the -architect occupied elsewhere and drawing him towards his wife to amuse -her! In any case he now knew that she was well guarded. The young men -pressed up against each other, in the excitement caused by these feminine -secrets which they were stirring up, forgetting that they might be -overheard. -</p> - -<p> -Madame Juzeur was just then confiding to Madame Josser-and her impressions -of Octave. She thought him very becoming, no doubt, but she preferred -Monsieur Auguste Vabre The latter, standing up in a corner of the -drawing-room, remained silent, in his insignificance and with his usual -evening headache. -</p> - -<p> -“What surprises me, dear madame, is that you have not thought of him for -your Berthe. A young man set up in business, who is prudence itself. And -he is in want of a wife, I know that he is desirous of getting married.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand listened, surprised. She would never herself have thought -of the linendraper. Madame Juzeur, however, insisted, for in her -misfortune, she had the mania of working for the happiness of other women, -which caused her to busy herself with everything relating to the tender -passions of the house. She affirmed that Auguste never took his eyes off -Berthe. In short, she invoked her experience of men: Monsieur Mouret would -never let himself be caught, whilst that good Monsieur Vabre would be very -easy and very advantageous. But Madame Josserand, weighing the latter with -a glance, came decidedly to the conclusion that such a son-in-law would -not be of much use in filling her drawing-room. -</p> - -<p> -“My daughter detests him,” said she, “and I would never oppose the -dictates of her heart.” -</p> - -<p> -A tall thin young lady had just played a fantasia on the “Dame Blanche.” -As uncle Bachelard had fallen asleep in the dining-room, Gueulin -reappeared and imitated the nightingale on his flute. No one listened, -however, for the story about Bonnaud had spread. Monsieur Josserand was -quite upset, the fathers held up their arms, the mothers were stifling. -What! Bonnaud’s son-in-law was a clown! Then who could one believe in now? -and the parents, in their appetites for marriages, suffered regular -nightmares, like so many distinguished convicts in evening dress. The fact -was, that Bonnaud had been so delighted at the opportunity of getting rid -of his daughter that he had not troubled much about references, in spite -of his rigid prudence of an over-scrupulous general accountant. -</p> - -<p> -“Mamma, the tea is served,” said Berthe, as she and Adèle opened the -folding doors. -</p> - -<p> -And, whilst the company passed slowly into the dining-room, she went up to -her mother and murmured: -</p> - -<p> -“I have had enough of it! He wants me to stay and tell him stories, or he -threatens to smash everything!” -</p> - -<p> -On a grey cloth which was too narrow, was served one of those teas -laboriously got together, a cake bought at a neighbouring baker’s, with -some mixed sweet biscuits, and some sandwiches on either side. At either -end of the table quite a luxury of flowers, superb and costly roses, -withdrew attention from the ancient dust on the biscuits, and the poor -quality of the butter. The sight caused a commotion, and jealousies were -kindled: really those Josserands were ruining themselves in trying to -marry off their daughters. And the guests, having but poorly dined, and -only thinking of going to bed with their bellies full, casting side -glances at the bouquets, gorged themselves with weak tea and imprudently -devoured the hard stale biscuits and the heavy cake. For those persons who -did not like tea, Adèle handed round some glasses of red currant syrup. It -was pronounced excellent. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, the uncle was asleep in a corner. They did not wake him, they -even politely pretended not to see him. A lady talked of the fatigues of -business. Berthe went from one to another, offering sandwiches, handing -cups of tea, and asking the men if they would like any more sugar. But she -was unable to attend to every one, and Madame Josserand was looking for -her daughter Hortense, when she caught sight of her standing in the middle -of the deserted drawing-room, talking to a gentleman, of whom one could -only see the back. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! yes! he has come at last,” she permitted, in her anger, to escape -her. -</p> - -<p> -There was some whispering. It was that Verdier, who had been living with a -woman for fifteen years past, whilst waiting to marry Hortense. Every one -knew the story, the young ladies exchanged glances; but they bit their -lips, and avoided speaking of it, out of propriety. Octave, being made -acquainted with it, examined the gentleman’s back with interest. Trublot -knew the mistress, a good girl, a reformed streetwalker, who was better -now, said he, than the best of wives, taking care of her man, and looking -after his clothes; and he was full of a fraternal sympathy for her. Whilst -they were being watched from the dining-room, Hortense was scolding -Verdier with all the sulkiness of a badly brought up virgin for having -come so late. -</p> - -<p> -“Hallo! red currant syrup!” said Trublot, seeing Adèle standing before -him, a tray in her hand. -</p> - -<p> -He sniffed it and declined. But, as the servant turned round, a stout -lady’s elbow pushed her against him, and he pinched her back. She smiled, -and returned to him with the tray. -</p> - -<p> -“No, thanks,” said he. “By-and-by.” -</p> - -<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> -<img src="images/0086.jpg" alt="0086 " width="100%" /> -</div> - -<p> -Women were seated round the table, whilst the men were eating, standing up -behind them. Exclamations were, heard, an enthusiasm, which died away as -the mouths were filled with food. The gentlemen were appealed to. Madame -Josserand cried: -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! yes, I was forgetting. Come and look, Monsieur Mouret, you who love -the arts.” -</p> - -<p> -“Take care, the water-colour stroke!” murmured Trublot, who knew the -house. -</p> - -<p> -It was better than a water-colour. As though by chance, a porcelain bowl -was standing on the table; right at the very bottom of it, surrounded by -the brand new varnished bronze mounting, Greuze’s “Young girl with the -broken Pitcher” was painted in light colours, passing from pale lilac to -faint blue. Berthe smiled in the midst of the praise. -</p> - -<p> -“Mademoiselle possesses every talent,” said Octave with his good-natured -grace. “Oh! the colours are so well blended, and it is very accurate, very -accurate!” -</p> - -<p> -“I can guarantee that the design is!” resumed Madame Josserand, -triumphantly. “There is not a hair too many or few. Berthe copied it here, -from an engraving. There are really such a number of nude subjects at the -Louvre, and the people there are at times so mixed!” -</p> - -<p> -She had lowered her voice when giving this last piece of information, -desirous of letting the young man know that, though her daughter was an -artist, she did not let that carry her beyond the limits of propriety. She -probably, however, thought Octave rather cold, she felt that the bowl had -not met with the success she had anticipated, and she watched him with an -anxious look, whilst Valérie and Madame Juzeur, who were drinking their -fourth cup of tea, examined the painting and gave vent to little cries of -admiration. -</p> - -<p> -“You are looking at her again,” said Trublot to Octave, on seeing him with -his eyes fixed on Valérie. -</p> - -<p> -“Why, yes,” replied he, slightly confused. “It is funny, she looks pretty -just at this moment. A warm woman, evidently. I say, do you think one -might venture?” -</p> - -<p> -“Warm, one never knows. It is a peculiar fancy! Anyhow, it would be better -than marrying the girl.” -</p> - -<p> -“What girl?” exclaimed Octave, forgetting himself. “What! you think I am -going to let myself be hooked’ Never! My dear fellow, we don’t marry at -Marseilles!” Madame Josserand had drawn near. The words came upon her like -a stab in the heart. Another fruitless campaign, another evening party -wasted! The blow was such, that she was obliged to lean against a chair, -as she looked with despair at the now despoiled table, where all that -remained was a burnt piece of the cake. She had given up counting her -defeats, but this one should be the last; she took a frightful oath, -swearing that she would no longer feed persons who came to see her solely -to gorge. And, upset and exasperated, she glanced round the dining-room, -seeking into what man’s arms she could throw her daughter, when she caught -sight of Auguste resignedly standing against the wall and not having -partaken of anything. -</p> - -<p> -Just then, Berthe, with a smile on her face, was moving towards Octave, -with a cup of tea in her hand. She was continuing the campaign, obedient -to her mother’s wishes. But the latter caught her by the arm and called -her a silly fool under her breath. -</p> - -<p> -“Take that cup to Monsieur Vabre, who has been waiting for an hour past,” -said she, graciously and very loud. -</p> - -<p> -Then, whispering again in her daughter’s ear, and giving her another of -her warlike looks, she added: -</p> - -<p> -“Be amiable, or you will have me to deal with!” -</p> - -<p> -Berthe, for a moment put out of countenance, soon recovered herself. It -often changed thus three times in an evening. She carried the cup to -Auguste, with the smile which she had commenced for Octave; she was -amiable, talked of Lyons silks, and did the engaging young person who -would look very well behind a counter. Auguste’s hands trembled a little, -and he was very red, as he was suffering a good deal from his head that -evening. -</p> - -<p> -Out of politeness, a few persons returned and sat down for some moments in -the drawing-room. Having fed, they were all going off. When they looked -for Verdier, he had already taken his departure; and some young ladies, -greatly put out, only carried away an indistinct view of his back. -Campardon, without waiting for Octave, retired with the doctor, whom he -detained on the landing, to ask him if there was really no more hope. -During the tea, one of the lamps had gone out, emitting a stench of rancid -oil, and the other lamp, the wick of which was all charred, lit up the -room with so poor a light that the Vabres themselves rose to leave in -spite of the attentions with which Madame Josserand overwhelmed them. -Octave had preceded them into the ante-room, where he had a surprise: -Trublot, who was looking for his hat, suddenly disappeared. He could only -have gone off by the passage leading to the kitchen. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! wherever has he got to? does he leave by the servants’ staircase?” -murmured the young man. -</p> - -<p> -But he did not seek to clear up the mystery. Valérie was there, looking -for a lace neckerchief. The two brothers, Théophile and Auguste, were -going downstairs, without troubling themselves about her. Octave, having -found the neckerchief, handed it to her, with the air of admiration he put -on when serving the pretty lady customers of “The Ladies’ Paradise.” She -looked at him, and he felt certain that her eyes, on fixing themselves on -his, had flashed forth flames. -</p> - -<p> -“You are too kind, sir,” said she, simply. -</p> - -<p> -Madame Juzeur, who was the last to leave, enveloped them both in a tender -and discreet smile. And when Octave, highly excited, had reached his cold -chamber, he looked at himself for an instant in the glass, and he thought -it worth while to make the attempt! -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, Madame Josserand was wandering about the deserted room, without -saying a word, and as though carried away by some gale of wind. She had -violently closed the piano and turned out the last lamp; then, passing -into the diningroom, she began to blow out the candles so vigorously that -the chandelier quite shook. The sight of the despoiled table covered with -dirty plates and empty cups, increased her rage; and she turned round it, -casting terrible glances at her daughter Hortense, who, quietly sitting -down, was devouring the piece of burnt cake. -</p> - -<p> -“You are putting yourself in a fine state again, mamma,” said the latter. -“Is it not going on all right, then? For myself, I am satisfied. He is -purchasing some chemises for her to enable her to leave.” -</p> - -<p> -The mother shrugged her shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -“Eh? you say that this proves nothing. Very good, only steer your ship as -well as I steer mine. Here now is a cake which may flatter itself it is a -precious bad one! They must be a wretched lot to swallow such stuff.” -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Josserand, who was always worn out by his wife’s parties, was -reposing on a chair; but he was in dread of an encounter, he feared that -Madame Josserand might drive him before her in her furious promenade; and -he drew close to Bachelard and Gueulin, who were seated at the table in -front of Hortense. The uncle, on awaking, had discovered a decanter of -rum. He was emptying it, and bitterly alluding to the twenty francs. -</p> - -<p> -“It is not for the money,” he kept repeating to his nephew, “it is the way -the thing was done. You know how I behave to women: I would give them the -shirt off my back, but I do not like them to ask me for anything. The -moment they begin to ask, it annoys me, and I don’t even chuck them a -radish.” -</p> - -<p> -And, as his sister was about to remind him of his promises: “Be quiet, -Eléonore! I know what I have to do for the child. But, you see, when a -woman asks, it is more than I can stand. I have never been able to keep -friends with one, have I now, Gueulin? And besides, there is really such -little respect shown me! Léon has not even deigned to wish me many happy -returns of the day.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand resumed her walk, clinching her fists. It was true, there -was Léon too, who promised and then disappointed her like the others. -There was one who would not sacrifice an evening to help to marry off his -sisters! She had just discovered a sweet biscuit, fallen behind one of the -flower vases, and was locking it up in a drawer when Berthe, who had gone -to release Saturnin, brought him back with her. She was quieting him, -whilst he, haggard and with a mistrustful look in his eyes, was searching -the corners, with the feverish excitement of a dog that has been long shut -up. -</p> - -<p> -“How stupid he is!” said Berthe, “he thinks that I have just been married. -And he is seeking for the husband! Ah! my poor Saturnin, you may seek. I -tell you that it has come to nothing! You know very well that it never -comes to anything.” -</p> - -<p> -Then, Madame Josserand’s rage burst all bounds. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! I swear to you that it sha’n’t come to nothing next time, even if I -have to tie him to you myself! There is one who shall pay for all the -others. Yes, yes, Monsieur Josserand, you may stare at me, as though you -did not understand: the wedding shall take place, and without you, if it -does not please you. You hear, Berthe! you have only to pick that one up!” -Saturnin appeared not to hear. He was looking under the table. The young -girl pointed to him; but Madame Josserand made a gesture which seemed to -imply that he would be got out of the way. And Berthe murmured: -</p> - -<p> -“So then it is decidedly to be Monsieur Vabre? Oh! it is all the same to -me. To think though that not a single sandwich has been saved for me?” -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> -CHAPTER IV. -</h2> - -<p class="pfirst"> -<span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>S early as the -morrow, Octave commenced to occupy himself about Valérie. He studied her -habits, and ascertained the hour when he would have a chance of meeting -her on the stairs; and he arranged matters so that he could frequently go -up to his room, taking advantage of his coming home to lunch at the -Campardons’, and leaving “The Ladies’ Paradise” for a few minutes under -some pretext or other. He soon noticed that, every day towards two -o’clock, the young woman, who took her child to the Tuileries gardens, -passed along the Rue Gaillon. Then he would stand at the door, wait till -she came, and greet her with one of his handsome shopman’s smiles. At each -of their meetings, Valérie politely inclined her head and passed on; but -he perceived her dark glance to be full of passionate fire; he found -encouragement in her ravaged complexion and in the supple swing of her -gait. -</p> - -<p> -His plan was already formed, the bold plan of a seducer used to cavalierly -overcoming the virtue of shop-girls. It was simply a question of luring -Valérie inside his room on the fourth floor; the staircase was always -silent and deserted, no one would discover them up there; and he laughed -at the thought of the architect’s moral admonitions; for taking a woman -belonging to the house was not the same as bringing one into it. -</p> - -<p> -One thing, however, made Octave uneasy. The passage separated the Pichons’ -kitchen from their dining-room, and this obliged them to constantly have -their door open. At nine o’clock in the morning, the husband started off -for his office, and did not return home until about five in the evening; -and, on alternate days of the week, he went out again after his dinner to -do some bookkeeping, from eight to midnight. Besides this, though, the -young woman, who was very reserved—almost wildly timid—would -push her door to, directly she heard Octave’s footsteps. He never caught -sight of more than her back, which always seemed to be flying away, with -her light hair done up into a scanty chignon. Through that door kept -discreetly ajar, he had, up till then, only beheld a small portion of the -room: sad and clean looking furniture, linen of a dull whiteness in the -grey light admitted through a window which he could not see, and the -corner of a child’s crib inside an inner room; all the monotonous solitude -of a wife occupied from morning to night with the recurring cares of a -clerk’s home. Moreover, there was never a sound; the child seemed dumb and -worn-out like the mother; one scarcely distinguished at times the soft -murmur of some ballad which the latter would hum for hours together in an -expiring voice. But Octave was none the less furious with the disdainful -creature as he called her. She was playing the spy upon him perhaps. In -any case, Valérie could never come up to him if the Pichons’ door was thus -being continually opened. -</p> - -<p> -He was just beginning to think that things were taking the right course. -One Sunday when the husband was absent, he had manoeuvred in such a way as -to be on the first-floor landing at the moment the young woman, wrapped in -her dressing-gown, was leaving her sister-in-law’s to return to her own -apartments; and she being obliged to speak to him, they had stood some -minutes exchanging polite remarks. So he was hoping that next time she -would ask him in. With a woman with such a temperament the rest would -follow as a matter of course. That evening during dinner, there was some -talk about Valérie at the Campardons’. Octave tried to draw the others -out. But as Angèle was listening and casting sly glances at Lisa, who was -handing round some leg of mutton and looking very serious, the parents at -first did nothing but sing the young woman’s praises. Moreover, the -architect always stood up for the respectability of the house, with the -vain conviction of a tenant who seemed to obtain from it a regular -certificate of his own gentility. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! my dear fellow, most respectable people. You saw them at the -Josserands’. The husband is no fool; he is full of ideas, he will end by -discovering something very grand. As for the wife, she has some style -about her, as we artists say.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Campardon, who had been rather worse since the day before, and who -was half reclining, though her illness did not prevent her eating thick -underdone slices of meat, languidly murmured in her turn: -</p> - -<p> -“That poor Monsieur Théophile, he is like me, he drags along. Ah! great -praise is due to Valérie, for it is not lively always having by one a man -trembling with fever, and whose infirmity usually makes him quarrelsome -and unjust.” -</p> - -<p> -During dessert, Octave, seated between the architect and his wife learnt -more than he asked. They forgot Angèle, they spoke in hints, with glances -which underlined the double meanings of the words; and, when they were at -a loss for an expression, they bent towards him one after the other, and -coarsely whispered the rest of the disclosure in his ear. In short, that -Théophile was a stupid and impotent person, who deserved to be what his -wife made him. As for Valérie, she was not worth much, she would have -behaved just as badly even if her husband had been different, for with -her, nature had so much the mastery. Moreover, no one was ignorant of the -fact that, two months after her marriage, in despair at recognising that -she would never have a child by her husband, and fearing she would lose -her share of old Vabre’s fortune if Théophile happened to die, she had her -little Camille got for her by a butcher’s man of the Rue Sainte-Anne. -</p> - -<p> -Campardon bent down and whispered a last time in Octave’s ear: -</p> - -<p> -“Well! you know, my dear fellow, a hysterical woman!” -</p> - -<p> -And he put into the word all the middle-class wantonness of an indelicacy -combined with the blobber-lipped smile of a father of a family whose -imagination, abruptly let loose, revels in licentiousness. The -conversation then took a different turn, they were speaking of the -Pichons, and words of praise were not stinted. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! they are indeed worthy people!” repeated Madame Campardon. -“Sometimes, when Marie takes her little Lilitte out, I also let her take -Angèle. And I assure you, Monsieur Mouret, I do not trust my daughter to -everyone; I must be absolutely certain of the person’s morality. You love -Marie very much, do you not, Angèle?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, mamma,” answered the child. -</p> - -<p> -The details continued. It was impossible to find a woman better brought -up, or according to severer principles. And it was a pleasure to see how -happy the husband was! Such a nice little home, and so clean, and a couple -that adored each other, who never said one word louder than another! -</p> - -<p> -“Besides, they would not be allowed to remain in the house, if they did -not behave themselves properly,” said the architect gravely, forgetting -his disclosures about Valérie. “We will only have respectable people here. -On my word of honour! I would give notice, the day that my daughter ran -the risk of meeting disreputable women on the stairs.” -</p> - -<p> -That evening, he had secretly arranged to take cousin Gasparine to the -Opéra-Comique. He therefore went and fetched his hat at once, talking of a -business matter which would keep him out till very late. Rose though -probably knew of the arrangement, for Octave heard her murmur, in her -resigned and maternal voice, when her husband came to kiss her with his -habitual effusive tenderness: -</p> - -<p> -“Amuse yourself well, and do not catch cold on coming out.” On the morrow, -Octave had an idea: it was to become acquainted with Madame Pichon, by -rendering her a few neighbourly services; in this way, if she ever caught -Valeric, she would keep her eyes shut. And an opportunity occurred that -very day. Madame Pichon was in the habit of taking Lilitte, then eighteen -months old, out in a little basket-work perambulator, which raised -Monsieur Gourd’s ire; the doorkeeper would never permit it to be carried -up the principal staircase, so that she had to take it up the servants’; -and as the door of her apartment was too narrow, she had to remove the -wheels every time, which was quite a job. It so happened that that day -Octave was returning home, just as his neighbour, incommoded by her -gloves, was giving herself a great deal of trouble to get the nuts off. -When she felt him standing up behind her, waiting till the passage was -clear, she quite lost her head, and her hands trembled. -</p> - -<p> -“But, madame, why do you take all that trouble?” asked he at length. “It -would be far simpler to put the perambulator at the end of the passage, -behind my door.” -</p> - -<p> -She did not reply, her excessive timidity kept her squatting there, -without strength to rise; and, beneath the curtain of her bonnet, he -beheld a hot blush invade the nape of her neck and her ears. Then he -insisted: -</p> - -<p> -“I assure you, madame, it will not inconvenience me in the least.” -</p> - -<p> -Without waiting, he lifted up the perambulator and carried it in his easy -way. She was obliged to follow him; but she remained so confused, so -frightened by this important adventure in her uneventful every-day life, -that she looked on, only able to stutter fragments of sentences. -</p> - -<p> -“Dear me! sir, it is too much trouble—I feel quite ashamed—you -will find it very awkward. My husband will be very pleased—” -</p> - -<p> -And she entered her room and locked herself in, this time hermetically, -with a sort of shame. Octave thought that she was stupid. The perambulator -was a great deal in his way for it prevented him opening his door wide, -and he had to slip into his room sideways. But his neighbour seemed to be -won over, more especially as Monsieur Gourd consented to authorize the -obstruction at that end of the passage, thanks to Campardon’s influence. -</p> - -<p> -Every Sunday, Marie’s parents, Monsieur and Madame Vuillaume, came to -spend the day. On the Sunday following, as Octave was going out, he beheld -all the family seated taking their coffee, and he was discreetly hastening -by, when the young woman, whispering quickly in her husband’s ear, the -latter jumped up, saying: -</p> - -<p> -“Excuse me, sir, I am always out, I have not yet had an opportunity of -thanking you. But I wish to tell you how pleased I was—” -</p> - -<p> -Octave protested. At length he was obliged to give in. Though he had -already had his coffee, they made him accept another cup. They gave him -the place of honour, between Monsieur and Madame Vuillaume. Opposite to -him, on the other side of the round table, Marie was again thrown into one -of those confused conditions which at any minute, without apparent cause, -brought all the blood from her heart to her face. He watched her, never -having seen her at his ease. But, as Trublot said, she was not his fancy: -she seemed to him wretched and washed out, with her flat face and her thin -hair, though her features were refined and pretty. When she recovered -herself a little, she laughed lightly as she again talked of the -perambulator, about which she found a great deal to say. -</p> - -<p> -“Jules, if you had only seen Monsieur Mouret carry it in his arms. Ah -well! it did not take long!” -</p> - -<p> -Pichon again uttered his thanks. He was tall and thin, with a doleful look -about him, already subdued to the routine of office life, his dull eyes -full of the apathetic resignation displayed by circus horses. -</p> - -<p> -“Pray say no more about it!” Octave ended by observing, “it is really not -worth while. Madame, your coffee is exquisite. I have never drunk any like -it.” -</p> - -<p> -She blushed again, and so much that her hands even became quite rosy. -</p> - -<p> -“Do not spoil her, sir,” said Monsieur Vuillaume gravely, “Her coffee is -good, but there is better. And you see how proud she has become at once!” -</p> - -<p> -“Pride is worth nothing,” declared Madame Vuillaume. “We have always -taught her to be modest.” -</p> - -<p> -They were both of them little and dried up, very old, and with -dark-looking countenances; the wife wore a tight black dress, and the -husband a thin frock-coat, on which only the mark of a big red ribbon was -to be seen. -</p> - -<p> -“Sir,” resumed the latter, “I was decorated at the age of sixty, on the -day I was pensioned off, after having been for thirty-nine years employed -at the Ministry of Public Instruction. Well! sir, on that day I dined the -same as on other days, and did not let pride interfere with any of my -habits. The Cross was due to me, I knew it. I was simply filled with -gratitude.” His life was perfectly clear, he wished every one to know it. -After twenty-five years’ service, he had been promoted to four thousand -francs. His pension, therefore, was two thousand. But he had had to -re-engage himself in a subordinate position at fifteen hundred francs, as -they had had their little Marie late in life when Madame Vuillaume was no -longer expecting either son or daughter. Now that the child was -established in life, they were living on the pension, by pinching -themselves, in the Rue Durantin at Montmartre, where things were cheaper. -</p> - -<p> -“I am sixty-three,” said he, in conclusion, “and that is all about it, and -that is all about it, son-in-law!” -</p> - -<p> -Pichon looked at him in a silent and weary way, his eyes fixed on his red -ribbon. Yes, it would be his own story if luck favoured him. He was the -last born of a greengrocer who had spent the entire worth of her shop in -her anxiety to make her son take a degree, just because all the -neighbourhood said he was very intelligent; and she had died bankrupt -eight days before his triumph at the Sorbonne. After three years of -hardships at his uncle’s, he had had the unexpected luck of getting a -berth at the Ministry, which was to lead him to everything, and on the -strength of which he had already married. -</p> - -<p> -“When one does one’s duty, the government does the same,” murmured he, -mechanically reckoning that he still had thirty-six years to wait before -obtaining the right to wear a piece of red ribbon and to enjoy a pension -of two thousand francs. -</p> - -<p> -Then he turned towards Octave. -</p> - -<p> -“You see, sir, it is the children who are such a heavy weight.” -</p> - -<p> -“No doubt,” said Madame Vuillaume. “If we had had another we should never -have made both ends meet. Therefore, remember Jules, what I insisted upon -when I gave you Marie: one child and no more, or else we shall quarrel! It -is only workpeople who have children like fowls lay eggs, without -troubling themselves as to what it will cost them. It is true that they -turn the youngsters out on to the streets, like flocks of animals, which -make me feel sick when I pass by.” -</p> - -<p> -Octave had looked at Marie, thinking that this delicate subject would make -her cheeks crimson; but she remained pale, approving her mother’s words -with ingenuous serenity. He was feeling awfully bored, and did not know -how to retire. In the little cold dining-room these people thus spent -their afternoon, slowly muttering a few words every five minutes, and -always about their own affairs. Even dominoes disturbed them too much. -</p> - -<p> -Madame Vuillaume now explained her notions. At the end of a long silence, -which left all four of them in no way embarrassed as though they had felt -the necessity of rearranging their ideas, she resumed: -</p> - -<p> -“You have no child, sir? It will come in time. Ah! it is a responsibility, -especially for a mother! When my little one was born I was forty-nine, -sir, an age when luckily one knows how to behave. A boy will get on -anyhow, but a girl! And I have the consolation of knowing that I have done -my duty, oh, yes!” -</p> - -<p> -Then, she explained her plan of education, in short sentences. Honesty -first. No playing on the stairs, the little one always kept at home and -watched closely, for children think of nothing but evil. The doors and -windows shut, never any draughts, which bring the wicked things of the -street with them. Out of doors, never leave go of the child’s hand, teach -it to keep its eyes lowered to avoid seeing anything wrong. With regard to -religion, it should not be overdone, just sufficient as a moral restraint. -Then, when she has grown up, engage teachers instead of sending her to -school, where the innocent ones are corrupted; and assist also at the -lessons, see that she does not learn what she should not know, hide all -newspapers of course, and keep the bookcase locked. -</p> - -<p> -“A young person always knows too much,” declared the old lady coming to an -end. -</p> - -<p> -Whilst her mother spoke, Marie kept her eyes vaguely fixed on space. She -once more beheld the little convent-like lodging, those narrow rooms in -the Rue Durantin, where she was not even allowed to lean out of a window. -It was one prolonged childhood, all sorts of prohibitions which she did -not understand, lines which her mother inked out on their fashion paper, -the black marks of which made her blush, lessons purified to such an -extent that even her teachers were embarrassed when she questioned them. A -very gentle childhood, however, the soft warm growth of a greenhouse, a -waking dream in which the words uttered by the tongue, and the facts of -every day life acquired ridiculous meanings. And, even at that hour as she -gazed vacantly, and was filled with these recollections, a childish smile -hovered about her lips, as though she had remained in ignorance spite even -of her marriage. -</p> - -<p> -“You will believe me if you like, sir,” said Monsieur Vuillaume, “but my -daughter had not read a single novel when she was past eighteen. Is it not -true, Marie?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, papa.” -</p> - -<p> -“I have George Sand’s works very handsomely bound,” he continued, “and in -spite of her mother’s fears I decided, a few months before her marriage, -to permit her to read ‘André,’ a perfectly innocent work, full of -imagination, and which elevates the soul. I am for a liberal education. -Literature has certainly its rights. The book produced an extraordinary -effect upon her, sir. She cried all night in her sleep: which proves that -there is nothing like a pure imagination to understand genius.” -</p> - -<p> -“It is so beautiful!” murmured the young woman, her eyes sparkling. -</p> - -<p> -But Pichon having enunciated this theory: no novels before marriage, and -as many as one likes afterwards—Madame Vuillaume shook her head. She -never read, and was none the worse for it. Then, Marie gently spoke of her -loneliness. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! I sometimes take up a book. Jules chooses them for me at the -library in the Passage Choiseul. If I only played the piano!” -</p> - -<p> -For some time past, Octave had felt the necessity of saying something. -</p> - -<p> -“What! madame,” exclaimed he, “you do not play!” -</p> - -<p> -A slight awkwardness ensued. The parents talked of a succession of -unfortunate circumstances, not wishing to admit that they had not been -willing to incur the expense. Madame Vuillaume, moreover, affirmed, that -Marie sang in tune from her birth; when she was a child she knew all sorts -of very pretty ballads, she had only to hear the tunes once to remember -them; and the mother spoke of a song about Spain, the story of a captive -weeping for her lover, which the child gave out with an expression that -would draw tears from the hardest hearts. But Marie remained disconsolate. -She let this cry escape her, as she extended her hand in the direction of -the inner room, where her little one was sleeping: -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! I swear that Lilitte shall learn to play the piano, even though I -have to make the greatest sacrifices!” -</p> - -<p> -“Think first of bringing her up as we brought you up,” said Madame -Vuillaume, severely. “I certainly do not condemn music, it develops one’s -feelings. But, above all, watch over your daughter, keep every foul breath -from her, strive that she may preserve her innocence.” -</p> - -<p> -She started off again, giving even more weight to religion, settling the -number of times to go to confess each month, naming the masses that it was -absolutely necessary to attend, all from the point of view of propriety. -Then Octave, unable to bear any more of it, talked of an appointment which -obliged him to go out. He had a singing in his ears, he felt that this -conversation would continue in a like manner until the evening. And he -hastened away, leaving the Vuillaumes and the Pichons telling one another, -around the same cups of coffee slowly emptied, what they told each other -every Sunday. As he was bowing a last time, Marie, suddenly and without -any reason, became scarlet. -</p> - -<p> -Ever since that afternoon, Octave hastened past the Pichons’ door whenever -he heard the slow tones of Monsieur and Madame Vuillaume on a Sunday. -Moreover, he was entirely absorbed in his conquest of Valérie. In spite of -the fiery glances of which he thought himself the object, she maintained -an inexplicable reserve; and in that he fancied he saw the play of a -coquette. He even met her one day, as though by chance, in the Tuileries -gardens, when she quietly began to talk of a storm of the day before; -which finally convinced him that she was devilish smart. And he was -constantly on the staircase, watching for an opportunity of entering her -apartments, decided if necessary upon being positively rude. -</p> - -<p> -Now, every time that he passed her, Marie smiled and blushed. They -exchanged the greetings of good neighbours. One morning, at lunch-time, as -he brought her up a letter, which Monsieur Gourd had given him, to avoid -having to go up the four flights of stairs himself, he found her in a sad -way: she had seated Lilitte in her chemise on the round table, and was -trying to dress her again. -</p> - -<p> -“What is the matter?” asked the young man. -</p> - -<p> -“Why, this child!” replied she. “I foolishly took her things off, because -she was complaining. And now I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to -do!” -</p> - -<p> -He looked at her in surprise. She was turning a skirt over and over, -looking for the hooks. Then, she added: -</p> - -<p> -“You see, her father always helps me to dress her in the morning before he -goes out. I can never manage it by myself. It bothers me, it annoys me.” -</p> - -<p> -The child, meanwhile, tired of being in her chemise and frightened by the -sight of Octave, was struggling and tumbling about on the table. -</p> - -<p> -“Take care!” cried he, “she will fall.” -</p> - -<p> -It was quite a catastrophe. Marie looked as though she dare not touch her -child’s naked limbs. She continued contemplating her, with the surprise of -a virgin, amazed at having been able to produce such a thing. However, -assisted by Octave, who quieted the little one, she succeeded in dressing -her again. -</p> - -<p> -“How will you manage when you have a dozen?” asked he, laughing. -</p> - -<p> -“But we shall never have any more!” answered she in a fright. -</p> - -<p> -Then, he joked: she was wrong to be so sure, a child comes so easily? -</p> - -<p> -“No! no!” repeated she obstinately. “You heard what mamma said, the other -day. She forbade Jules to have any more. You do not know her; it would -lead to endless quarrels, if another came.” -</p> - -<p> -Octave was amused by the quiet way in which she discussed this question. -He drew her out, without, however, succeeding in embarrassing her. She, -moreover, did as her husband wished. No doubt, she loved children; had she -been allowed to desire others, she would not have said no. And, beneath -this complacency, which was restricted to her mother’s commands, the -indifference of a woman whose maternity was still slumbering could be -recognized. Lilitte occupied her like her home, which she looked after -through duty. When she had washed up the breakfast things and taken the -child for her walk, she continued her former young girl’s existence, of a -somnolent emptiness, lulled by the vague expectation of a joy which never -came. Octave having remarked that she must feel very dull, being always -alone, she seemed surprised: no, she was never dull, the days passed -somehow or other, without her knowing, when she went to bed, how she had -employed her time. Then, on Sundays, she sometimes went out with her -husband; or her parents called, or else she read. If reading did not give -her headaches, she would have read from morning till night, now that she -was allowed to read everything. -</p> - -<p> -“What is really annoying,” resumed she, “is that they have scarcely -anything at the library in the Passage Choiseul. For instance, I wanted -‘André,’ to read it again, because it made me cry so much the other time. -Well! their copy has been stolen. Besides that, my father refuses to lend -me his, because Lilitte might tear the pictures.” -</p> - -<p> -“But,” said Octave, “my friend Campardon has all George Sand’s works. I -will ask him to lend me ‘André’ for you.” -</p> - -<p> -She blushed, and her eyes sparkled. He was really too kind! And, when he -left her, she stood before Lilitte, her arms hanging down by her sides, -without an idea in her head, in the attitude which she maintained for -whole afternoons together. She detested sewing, she did crochet work, -always the same piece, which she left lying about the room. -</p> - -<p> -Octave brought her the book on the morrow, a Sunday. Pichon had had to go -out, to leave his card on one of his superiors. And, as the young man -found her dressed for walking, she having just been on some errand in the -neighbourhood, he asked her out of curiosity whether she had been to -church, having the idea that she was religious. She answered no. Before -marrying her off, her mother used to take her regularly to mass. During -the six first months of her married life, she continued going through -force of habit, with the constant fear of being too late. Then, she -scarcely knew why, after missing a few times, she left off going -altogether. Her husband detested priests, and her mother never even -mentioned them now. Octave’s question, however, disturbed her, as though -it had awakened within her things that had been long buried beneath the -idleness of her existence. -</p> - -<p> -“I must go to Saint-Roch one of these mornings,” said she. “An occupation -gone always leaves a void behind it.” -</p> - -<p> -And, on the pale face of this late child, born of parents too old, there -appeared the unhealthy regret of another existence, dreamed of once upon a -time, in the land of chimeras. She could conceal nothing, everything was -reflected in her face, beneath her skin, which had the softness and the -transparency accompanying an attack of chlorosis. Then, she gave way to -her feelings, and caught hold of Octave’s hands with a familiar gesture. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! let me thank you for having brought me this book! Come to-morrow -after lunch. I will return it to you and tell you the effect that it -produced on me. It will be amusing, will it not?” -</p> - -<p> -On leaving her, Octave thought that she was funny all the same. She was -beginning to interest him, he contemplated speaking to Pichon so as to -make him rouse her up a bit; for the little woman, most decidedly, only -wanted a shaking. It so happened that on the morrow he came across the -clerk just as he was going off, and he accompanied him part of the way, at -the risk of being late himself at “The Ladies’ Paradise.” But Pichon -seemed to him to be even more benumbed than his wife, full of manias in -their early stage, and entirely occupied with the dread of getting mud on -his shoes in wet weather. He walked on his toes, and continually talked of -the second head-clerk of his office. Octave, who was only animated by -fraternal intentions in the matter, ended by leaving him in the Rue -Saint-Honoré, after advising him to take Marie to the theatre frequently. -</p> - -<p> -“Whatever for?” asked Pichon in amazement. -</p> - -<p> -“Because it is good for women. It makes them nicer.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! you really think so?” -</p> - -<p> -He promised to give the matter his attention, and crossed the street, -eyeing the cabs with terror, the only thing in life which worried him -being the fear of getting splashed. -</p> - -<p> -At lunch-time, Octave knocked at the Pichons’ door for the book. Marie was -reading, her elbows on the table, her hands buried in her dishevelled -hair. She had just eaten an egg cooked in a tin pan which was lying in the -centre of the hastily laid table without any cloth. Lilitte, forgotten on -the floor, was sleeping with her nose on the pieces of a plate which she -had no doubt broken. -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” -</p> - -<p> -Marie did not answer at once. She was still wrapped in her morning -dressing-gown, which, from the buttons being torn off, displayed her -throat, in all the disorder of a woman just risen from her bed. -</p> - -<p> -“I have scarcely read a hundred pages,” she ended by saying. “My parents -came yesterday.” -</p> - -<p> -And she spoke in a painful tone of voice, with a sourness about her mouth. -When she was younger, she longed to live in the midst of the woods. She -was for ever dreaming that she met a huntsman who was sounding his horn. -He approached her and knelt down. This took place in a copse, very far -away, where roses were blooming like in a park. Then, suddenly, they had -been married, and afterwards lived there, wandering about till eternity. -She, very happy, wished for nothing more; he, as tender and submissive as -a slave, was continually at her feet. -</p> - -<p> -“I had a talk with your husband this morning,” said Octave. “You do not go -out enough, and I have persuaded him to take you to the theatre.” -</p> - -<p> -But she shook her head, turning pale and shivering. A silence ensued. She -again beheld the narrow dining-room with its cold light. Jules’s image, -sullen and correct, had suddenly cast a shadow over the huntsman of the -romance whom she had been imagining, and the sound of whose horn in the -distance again rang in her ears. Every now and then she listened: perhaps -he was coming. Her husband had never taken her feet in his hands to kiss -them; he had never either knelt beside her to tell her he adored her. Yet, -she loved him well; but she was surprised that love did not contain more -sweetness. -</p> - -<p> -“What stifles me, you know,” resumed she, returning to the book, “is when -there are passages in novels about the characters telling one another of -their love.” -</p> - -<p> -Octave then sat down. He wished to laugh, not caring for such sentimental -trifling. -</p> - -<p> -“I detest a lot of phrases,” said he. “When two persons adore each other, -the best thing is to prove it at once.” -</p> - -<p> -But she did not seem to understand, her eyes remained undimmed. He -stretched out his hand, slightly touching hers, and leant over so close to -her to observe a passage in the book that his breath warmed her shoulder -through the open dressing-gown; yet she remained insensible. Then, he rose -up, full of a contempt mingled with pity. As he was leaving, she said: -</p> - -<p> -“I read very slowly, I shall not have finished it before tomorrow. It will -be amusing to-morrow! Look in during the evening.” -</p> - -<p> -He certainly had no designs upon her, and yet he felt indignant. He -conceived a singular friendship for this young couple who exasperated him, -they seemed to take life so stupidly. And the idea came to him of -rendering them a service in spite of them; he would take them out to -dinner, make them tipsy, and then amuse himself by pushing them into each -other’s arms. When such fits of kindness got hold of him, he, who would -not have lent ten francs, delighted in flinging his money out of the -window, to bring two lovers together and give them joy. -</p> - -<p> -Little Madame Pichon’s coldness, however, brought Octave back to the -ardent Valérie. This one, certainly, would not require to be breathed upon -twice on the back of her neck. He was advancing in her favour: one day -that she was going upstairs before him, he had ventured to compliment her -on her ankle, without her appearing displeased. -</p> - -<p> -At length the opportunity so long watched for presented itself. It was the -evening that Marie had made him promise to look in; they would be alone to -talk about the novel, as her husband was not to be home till very late. -But the young man had preferred to go out, seized with fright at the -thought of this literary treat. However, he had decided to venture upon -it, towards ten o’clock, when he met Valérie’s maid on the first-floor -landing with a scared look on her face, and who said to him: -</p> - -<p> -“Madame has gone into hysterics, my master is out, and every one opposite -has gone to the theatre. Pray come in. I am all alone, I don’t know what -to do.” -</p> - -<p> -Valérie was stretched out in an easy-chair in her bedroom, her limbs -rigid. The maid had unlaced her stays, and her bosom was heaving. The -attack subsided almost immediately. She opened her eyes, was surprised to -see Octave there, and acted moreover as she might have done in the -presence of a doctor. -</p> - -<p> -“I must ask you to excuse me, sir,” murmured she, her voice still choking. -“I have only had this girl since yesterday, and she lost her head.” -</p> - -<p> -Her perfect coolness in adjusting her stays and fastening up her dress -again, embarrassed the young man. He remained standing, swearing not to -depart thus, yet not daring to sit down. She had sent away the maid, the -sight of whom seemed to irritate her; then she went to the window to -breathe the cool outdoor air in long nervous inspirations, her mouth wide -open. After a short silence, they commenced talking. She had first -suffered from these attacks when fourteen years old; Doctor Juillerat was -tired of prescribing for her; sometimes they seized her in the arms, -sometimes in the loins. However, she was getting used to them; she might -as well have them as anything else, as no one was really perfectly well. -And, whilst she talked, with scarcely any life in her limbs, he excited -himself with looking at her, he thought her provoking in the midst of her -disorder, with her leaden complexion, her face upset by the attack as -though by a whole night of love. Behind the black mass of her loose hair, -which hung over her shoulders, he fancied he beheld the husband’s poor and -beardless head. Then, stretching out his hands, with the unrestrained -gesture with which he would have seized some harlot, he tried to take hold -of her. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! what now?” asked she, in a voice full of surprise. -</p> - -<p> -In her turn she looked at him, whilst her eyes were so cold, her flesh so -calm, that he felt frozen and let his hands fall with an awkward slowness, -fully aware of the ridiculousness of his gesture. Then, in a last nervous -gape which she stifled, she slowly added: -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! my dear sir, if you only knew!” -</p> - -<p> -And she shrugged her shoulders, without getting angry, as though crushed -beneath her contempt for man and her weariness of him. Octave thought she -was about to have him turned out when he saw her move towards a bell-pull, -dragging her loosely fastened skirts along with her. But she merely -required some tea; and she ordered it to be very weak and very hot. -Altogether nonplussed, he muttered some excuses and made for the door, -whilst she again reclined in the depths of her easy-chair, with the air of -a chilly woman greatly in want of sleep. -</p> - -<p> -On the stairs, Octave stopped at each landing. She did not like that then? -He had just seen how indifferent she was, without desire as without -indignation, as difficult to deal with as his employer, Madame Hédouin. -Why did Campardon say she was hysterical? it was absurd to take him in by -telling him such humbug; for had it not been for the architect’s lie, he -would never have risked such an adventure. And he remained quite -bewildered by the result, his ideas of hysteria altogether upset, and -thinking of the different stories that were going about. He recalled -Trublot’s words: one never knows what to expect, with those crazy sort of -people whose eyes shine like balls of fire. -</p> - -<p> -Up on his landing Octave, annoyed with all women, walked as softly as he -could. But the Pichons’ door opened, and he had to resign himself. Marie -awaited him, standing in the narrow room, which the charred wick of the -lamp but imperfectly lighted. She had drawn the crib close to the table, -and Lilitte was sleeping there in the circle of the yellow light. The -lunch things had probably also served for the dinner, for the closed book -was lying beside a dirty plate full of radish ends. -</p> - -<p> -“Have you finished it?” asked Octave, surprised at the young woman’s -silence. -</p> - -<p> -She seemed intoxicated, her face was swollen as though she had just -awakened from a too heavy sleep. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, yes,” said she, with an effort. “Oh! I have passed the day, my head -in my hands, buried in it. When the fit takes one, one no longer knows -where one is. I have such a stiff neck.” -</p> - -<p> -And, feeling pains all over her, she did not speak any more of the book, -but was so full of her emotion and of confused dreams engendered by her -reading, that she was choking. Her ears rang with the distant calls of the -horn, blown by the huntsman of her romances, in the blue background of -ideal loves. Then, without the least reason, she said that she had been to -Saint-Roch that morning to hear the nine o’clock mass. She had wept a -great deal, religion replaced everything. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! I feel better,” resumed she, heaving a deep sigh and standing still -in front of Octave. -</p> - -<p> -A pause ensued. She smiled at him with her candid eyes. He had never -thought her so useless, with her scanty hair and her washed-out features. -But as she continued looking at him, she became very pale and almost -stumbled; and he was obliged to put out his hands to support her. -</p> - -<p> -“Good heavens! good heavens!” stuttered she, sobbing. -</p> - -<p> -He continued to hold her, feeling considerably embarrassed. -</p> - -<p> -“You should take a little infusion. You have been reading too much.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, it upset me, when on closing the book I found myself alone. How kind -you are, Monsieur Mouret! I might have hurt myself, had it not been for -you.” -</p> - -<p> -He looked for a chair on which to seat her. -</p> - -<p> -“Shall I light a fire?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, thank you, it would dirty your hands. I have noticed that you always -wear gloves.” -</p> - -<p> -And choking again at the idea, and suddenly feeling faint, she launched an -awkward kiss into space as though in a dream, a kiss which slightly -touched the young man’s ear. -</p> - -<p> -Octave received this kiss with amazement. The young woman’s lips were as -cold as ice. Then, when she had sank upon his breast in an abandonment of -her whole frame, he was seized with a sudden desire, and sought to bear -her into the inner room. But this brusque wooing roused Marie; her womanly -instinct revolted; she struggled and called upon her mother, forgetting -her husband, who was shortly to return; and her daughter who was sleeping -near her. -</p> - -<p> -“No, oh! no, no. It is wrong.” -</p> - -<p> -But he kept ardently repeating: -</p> - -<p> -“No one will ever know—I shall never tell.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, Monsieur Octave. Do not spoil the happiness I have in knowing you. It -will do no good I assure you, and I had dreamed things—” -</p> - -<p> -Then he left off speaking, having a revenge to take on woman-kind, and -saying coarsely to himself: “You, at any rate, shall succumb!” The door -had not even been shut, the solemnity of the staircase seemed to ascend in -the midst of the silence. Lilitte was peacefully sleeping on the pillow of -her crib. -</p> - -<p> -When Marie and Octave rose up, they could find nothing to say to each -other. She, mechanically, went and looked at her daughter, took up the -plate, and then laid it down again. He remained silent, a prey to similar -uneasiness, the adventure had been so unexpected; and he recalled to mind -how he had fraternally planned to restore the young woman to her husband’s -arms. Feeling the necessity of breaking that intolerable silence he ended -by murmuring: -</p> - -<p> -“You did not shut the door, then?” -</p> - -<p> -She glanced out on to the landing, and stammered: -</p> - -<p> -“That is true, it was open.” -</p> - -<p> -Her face wore an expression of disgust. The young man too was now thinking -that after all there was nothing the least funny in this adventure with a -helpless woman, in the midst of that solitude. -</p> - -<p> -“Dear me! the book has fallen on the floor!” she continued, picking the -volume up. -</p> - -<p> -A corner of the cover was broken. That drew them together, and afforded -some relief. Speech returned to them. Marie appeared quite distressed. -</p> - -<p> -“It was not my fault. You see, I had covered it with paper for fear of -soiling it. We must have knocked it over, without doing so on purpose.” -</p> - -<p> -“Was it there then?” asked Octave. “I did not notice it. Oh! for myself, I -don’t care a bit! But Campardon thinks so much of his books!” -</p> - -<p> -They kept passing it from one to the other, trying to put the corner -straight again. Their fingers touched without a quiver. As they inflected -on the consequences, they were quite dismayed at the accident which had -happened to that handsome volume of George Sand. -</p> - -<p> -“It was bound to end badly,” concluded Marie, with tears in her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -Octave was obliged to console her. He would invent some story, Campardon -would not eat him. And their uneasiness returned, at the moment of -separation. They would have liked at least to have said something amiable -to eaeh other; but the words choked them. Fortunately, a step was heard, -it was the husband coming upstairs. Octave silently took her in his arms -again and kissed her in his turn on the mouth. She once more complaisantly -submitted, her lips iey cold as before. When he had noiselessly regained -his room, he asked himself, as he took off his overcoat, whatever was it -that she wanted? Women, he said, were decidedly very peculiar. -</p> - -<p> -On the morrow, at the Cam pardons’, just as lunch was finished, Octave was -once more explaining that he had clumsily knocked the book over, when -Marie entered the room. She was going to take Lilitte to the Tuileries -gardens, and she had called to ask if they would allow Angèle to accompany -her. And she smiled at Octave, without the least confusion, and glanced in -her innocent way at the book lying on a chair. -</p> - -<p> -“Why, I shall be only too pleased!” said Madame Campardon. “Angèle, go and -put your hat on. I have no fear in trusting her with you.” -</p> - -<p> -Marie, looking very modest, in a simple dress of dark woollen stuff, -talked of her husband, who had caught a cold the night before, and of the -price of meat, which would soon prevent people buying it at all. Then, -when she had left with Angèle, they all leant out of the windows to see -them depart. Marie gently pushed Lilitte’s perambulator along the pavement -with her gloved hands; whilst Angèle, knowing that they were looking at -her, walked beside her friend, with her eyes fixed on the ground. -</p> - -<p> -“How respectable she looks!” exclaimed Madame Campardon. “And so gentle! -so decorous!” -</p> - -<p> -Then, slapping Octave on the shoulder, the architect said: -</p> - -<p> -“Education is everything in a family, my dear fellow; there is nothing -like it!” -</p> - -<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> -<img src="images/0115.jpg" alt="0115 " width="100%" /> -</div> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> -CHAPTER V. -</h2> - -<p class="pfirst"> -<span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hat evening, there -was a reception and concert at the Duveyriers. -</p> - -<p> -Towards nine o’clock, Octave, who had been invited for the first time, was -just finishing dressing. He was grave, and felt irritated with himself. -Why had he missed fire with Valérie, a woman so well connected? And Berthe -Josserand, ought he not to have reflected before refusing her? At the -moment he was tying his white tie, the thought of Marie Pichon had become -unbearable to him: five months in Paris, and nothing but that wretched -adventure! It was as painful to him as a disgrace, for he well saw the -emptiness and the uselessness of such a connection. And he vowed to -himself, as he took up his gloves, that he would no longer waste his time -in such a manner. He was decided to act, as he had at length got into -society, where opportunities were certainly not wanting. -</p> - -<p> -But, at the end of the passage, Marie was watching for him. Pichon not -being there, he was obliged to go in for a moment. -</p> - -<p> -“How smart you are!” murmured she. -</p> - -<p> -They had never been invited to the Duveyriers’, and that filled her with -respect for the first floor drawing-room. Besides, she was jealous of no -one, she had neither the strength nor the will to be so. -</p> - -<p> -“I shall wait for you,” resumed she holding up her forehead. “D° not come -up too late; you can tell me how you amused yourself.” -</p> - -<p> -Octave had to deposit a kiss on her hair. Though relations were -established between them, according to his fancy, whenever a desire or -want of something to do drew him to her, they did not as yet address each -other very familiarly. He at length went downstairs; and she, leaning over -the balustrade, followed him with her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -At the same minute, quite a drama was enacting at the Josserands’. In the -mind of the mother, the Duveyriers’ party to which they were going, was to -decide the question of a marriage between Berthe and Auguste Vabre. The -latter, who had been vigorously attacked for a fortnight past, still -hesitated, evidently entertaining doubts with respect to the dowry. So -Madame Josserand, for the purpose of striking a decisive blow, had written -to her brother, informing him of the contemplated marriage and reminding -him of his promises, with the hope that, in his answer, he might say -something that she could turn to account. And all the family were awaiting -nine o’clock before the dining-room stove, dressed ready to go down, when -Monsieur Gourd brought up a letter from uncle Bachelard which had been -forgotten under Madame Gourd’s snuff-box since the last delivery. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! at last!” said Madame Josserand, tearing open the envelope. -</p> - -<p> -The father and the two daughters watched her anxiously as she read. Adèle, -who had had to dress the ladies, was moving heavily about, clearing the -table still covered with the dirty crockery from the dinner. But Madame -Josserand turned ghastly pale. -</p> - -<p> -“Nothing! nothing!” stuttered she, “not a clear sentence! He will see -later on, at the time of the marriage. And he adds that he loves us very -much all the same. What a confounded scoundrel!” -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Josserand in his evening dress sank into a chair. Hortense and -Berthe also sat down, their legs feeling worn out; and they remained -there, the one in blue, the other in pink, in their eternal costumes, -altered once again. -</p> - -<p> -“I have always said,” murmured the father, “that Bachelard is imposing -upon us. He will never give a sou.” -</p> - -<p> -Standing up in her flaring dress, Madame Josserand was reading the letter -over again. Then, her anger burst out, “Ah! men! men! That one, one would -think him an idiot, he leads such a life. Well! not a bit of it! Though he -never seems to be in his right mind, he opens his eye the moment any one -speaks to him of money. Ah! men! men!” -</p> - -<p> -She turned towards her daughters, to whom this lesson was addressed. -</p> - -<p> -“It has come to the point, you see, that I ask myself why it is you have -such a mania for getting married. Ah! if you had been worried out of your -lives by it as I have! Not a fellow who loves you for yourselves and who -would bring you a fortune without haggling! Millionaire uncles who, after -having been fed for twenty years, will not even give their nieces a dowry! -Husbands who are quite incompetent, oh! yes, sir, incompetent!” -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Josserand bowed his head. Adèle, who was not even listening, was -quietly finishing clearing the table. But Madame Josserand suddenly turned -angrily upon her. -</p> - -<p> -“What are you doing there, spying upon us? Go into your kitchen and see if -I am there!” -</p> - -<p> -And she wound up by saying: -</p> - -<p> -“In short, everything for those wretched beings, the men; and for us, not -even enough to satisfy our hunger. Listen! they are only fit for being -taken in! Remember my words!” -</p> - -<p> -Hortense and Berthe nodded their heads, as though deeply penetrated by -what their mother had been saying. For a long time past she had completely -convinced them of man’s utter inferiority, his unique part in life being -to marry and to pay. A long silence ensued in the smoky dining-room, where -the remainder of the things left on the table by Adèle emitted a stuffy -smell of food. The Josserands, gorgeously arrayed, scattered on different -chairs and overwhelmed, were forgetting the Duveyriers’ concert as they -reflected on the continual deceptions of life From the depths of the -adjoining chamber, one could hear the snoring of Saturnin, whom they had -sent to bed early. -</p> - -<p> -At length, Berthe spoke: -</p> - -<p> -“So it is all up. Shall we take our things off?” -</p> - -<p> -But, at this, Madame Josserand’s energy at once returned to her. Eh? what? -take their things off! and why pray! were they not respectable people, was -not an alliance with their family as good as with any other? The marriage -should take place all the same, she would die rather. And she rapidly -distributed their parts to each: the two young ladies were instructed to -be very amiable to Auguste, and not to leave him until he had taken the -leap; the father received the mission of overcoming old Vabre and -Duveyrier, by agreeing with everything they said, if his intelligence was -sufficient to enable him to do such a thing; as for herself, desirous of -neglecting nothing, she undertook the women, she would know how to get -them all on her side. Then, collecting her thoughts and casting a last -glance round the dining-room, as though to make sure that no weapon had -been forgotten, she put on the terrible look of a man of war about to lead -his daughters to massacre, and uttered these words in a powerful voice: -</p> - -<p> -“Let us go down!” -</p> - -<p> -And down they went. In the solemnity of the staircase, Monsieur Josserand -was full of uneasiness, for he foresaw many disagreeable things for the -too narrow conscience of a worthy man like himself. -</p> - -<p> -When they entered, there was already a crush at the Duveyriers’. -</p> - -<p> -The enormous grand piano occupied one entire end of the drawing-room, the -ladies being seated in front of it on rows of chairs, like at the theatre; -and two dense masses of black coats filled up the doorways leading to the -dining-room and the parlour. The chandelier and the candelabra, and the -six lamps standing on side-tables, lit up with a blinding light the white -and gold room in which the red silk of the furniture and of the hangings -showed up vividly. It was very warm, the fans produced a breeze at regular -intervals, impregnated with the penetrating odours of bodices and bare -shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -Just at that moment, Madame Duveyrier was taking her seat at the piano. -With a gesture, Madame Josserand smilingly begged she would not disturb -herself; and she left her daughters in the midst of the men, as she -accepted a chair for herself between Valérie and Madame Juzeur. Monsieur -Josserand had made for the parlour, where the landlord, Monsieur Vabre, -was dozing at his usual place, in the corner of a sofa. There were also -Campardon, Théophile and Auguste Vabre, Doctor Juillerat and the Abbé -Mauduit, forming a group; whilst Trublot and Octave, who had rejoined each -other, had flown from the music to the end of the dining-room. Near them, -and behind the stream of black coats, Duveyrier, thin and tall of stature, -was looking fixedly at his wife seated at the piano waiting for silence. -In the button-hole of his coat he wore the ribbon of the Legion of Honour -in a neat little rosette. -</p> - -<p> -“Hush! hush! silence!” murmured some friendly voices. -</p> - -<p> -Then, Clotilde Duveyrier commenced one of Chopin’s most difficult -serenades. Tall and handsome, with magnificent red hair, she had a long -face, as pale and cold as snow; and, in her grey eyes, music alone kindled -a flame, an exaggerated passion on which she existed without any other -desire either of the flesh or the spirit. Duveyrier continued watching -her; then, after the first bars, a nervous exasperation contracted his -lips, he drew aside and kept himself at the farthest end of the -dining-room. On his clean-shaven face, with its pointed chin and eyes all -askew, large red blotches indicated a bad blood, quite a pollution -festering just beneath the skin. -</p> - -<p> -Trublot, who was examining him, quietly observed: -</p> - -<p> -“He does not like music.” -</p> - -<p> -“Nor I either,” replied Octave. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! the unpleasantness is not the same for you. A man, my dear fellow, -who was always lucky. Not a whit more intelligent than another, but who -was helped along by every one. Belonging to an old middle-class family, -the father an ex-presiding judge, called to the bar the moment he had -completed his studies, then appointed, deputy judge at Reims, from whence -he was removed to Paris and made judge of the Court of First Instance, -decorated, and now a counsellor before he is forty-five years of age. It’s -stiff, isn’t it? But he does not like music, that piano has been the bane -of his life. One cannot have everything.” -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, Clotilde was knocking off the difficult passages with -extraordinary composure. She handled her piano like a circus-rider her -horse. Octave’s attention was solely occupied with the furious working of -her hands. -</p> - -<p> -“Just look at her fingers,” said he, “it is astonishing! A quarter of an -hour of that must hurt her immensely.” -</p> - -<p> -And they both fell to talking of women without troubling themselves any -further with what she was playing. Octave felt rather embarrassed on -catching sight of Valérie: what line of conduct should he pursue? ought he -to speak to her or pretend not to see her? Trublot affected a great -disdain: there was still not one to take his fancy; and, as his companion -protested, looking about, and saying that there was surely one amongst the -number who would suit him, he learnedly declared: -</p> - -<p> -“Well! take your choice, and you will see afterwards, when the gloss is -off. Eh? not the one with the feathers over there; nor the blonde in the -mauve dress; nor that old party, though she at least has the merit of -being fat. I tell you, my dear fellow, it is absurd to seek for anything -of the kind in society. Plenty of airs, but not a particle of pleasure!” -</p> - -<p> -Octave smiled. He had to make his position in the world; he could not -afford merely to consider his taste, like Trublot, whose father was so -rich. The sight of those rows of women set him musing, he asked himself -which among them he would have chosen for his fortune and his pleasure, if -he had been allowed to take one of them away. As he was weighing them with -a glance, one after the other, he suddenly exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -“Hallo! my employer’s wife! She visits here then?” -</p> - -<p> -“Did you not know it?” asked Trublot. “In spite of the difference in their -ages, Madame Hédouin and Madame Duveyrier are two school friends. They -used to be inseparable, and were called the polar bears, because they were -always fully twenty degrees below freezing point. They are some more of -the ornamental class! Duveyrier would be in a sad plight if he had not -some other hot water-bottle for his feet in winter time!” -</p> - -<p> -But Octave had now become serious. For the first time, he beheld Madame -Hédouin in a low neck dress, her shoulders and arms bare, with her black -hair plaited in front; and she appeared in the ardent light as the -realisation of his desires: a superb woman, extremely healthy and calmly -beautiful, who would be a benefit in every way to a man. Complicated plans -were already absorbing him, when an awful din awoke him from his dream. -</p> - -<p> -“What a relief! it is finished!” said Trublot. -</p> - -<p> -Compliments were being showered upon Clotilde. Madame Josserand, who had -hastened to her, was pressing her hands; whilst the men resumed their -conversation, and the ladies fanned themselves more vigorously. Duveyrier -then ventured back into the parlour, where Trublot and Octave followed -him. Whilst in the midst of the skirts, the former whispered into the -latter’s ear: -</p> - -<p> -“Look on your right. The angling has commenced.” -</p> - -<p> -It was Madame Josserand who was setting Berthe on to Auguste. He had -imprudently gone up to the ladies to wish them good evening. His head was -not bothering him so much just then; he merely felt a touch of neuralgia -in his left eye; but he dreaded the end of the party, for there was going -to be singing, and nothing was worse for him than this. -</p> - -<p> -“Berthe,” said the mother, “tell Monsieur Vabre of the remedy you copied -for him out of that book. Oh! it is a sovereign cure for headaches!” -</p> - -<p> -And, having started the affair, she left them standing beside a window. -</p> - -<p> -“By Jove! they are going in for chemistry!” murmured Trublot. -</p> - -<p> -In the parlour, Monsieur Josserand, desirous of pleasing his wife, had -remained seated before Monsieur Vabre, feeling very embarrassed, for the -old gentleman was asleep, and he did not dare awake him to do the amiable. -But, when the music ceased, Monsieur Vabre raised his eye-lids. Short and -stout, and completely bald, save for two tufts of white hair over his -ears, he had a ruddy face, with thick lips, and round eyes almost at the -top of his head. Monsieur Josserand having politely inquired after his -health, the conversation began. The retired notary, whose four or five -ideas always followed the same order, commenced by making an observation -about Versailles, where he had practiced during forty years; then, he -talked of his sons, once more regretting that neither the one nor the -other had shown himself capable of carrying on the practice, so that he -had decided to sell it and inhabit Paris; after which, he came to the -history of his house, the building of which was the romance of his life. -</p> - -<p> -“I have buried three hundred thousand francs in it, sir. A superb -speculation, my architect said. But to-day I have great difficulty in -getting the value of my money; more especially as all my children have -come to live here, with the idea of not paying me, and I should never have -a quarter’s rent, if I did not apply for it myself on the fifteenth. -Fortunately, I have work to console me.” -</p> - -<p> -“Do you still work much?” asked Monsieur Josserand. -</p> - -<p> -“Always, always, sir!” replied the old gentleman with the energy of -despair. “Work is life to me.” -</p> - -<p> -And he explained his great task. For ten years past, he had every year -waded through the official catalogue of the exhibition of paintings, -writing on tickets each painter’s name, and the paintings exhibited. He -spoke of it with an air of weariness and anguish; the whole year scarcely -gave him sufficient time, the task was often so arduous, that it sometimes -proved too much for him; for instance, when a lady artist married, and -then exhibited under her husband’s name, how was he to see his way -clearly? -</p> - -<p> -“My work will never be complete, it is that which is killing me,” murmured -he. -</p> - -<p> -“You take a great interest in art, do you not?” resumed Monsieur -Josserand, to flatter him. -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Vabre looked at him, full of surprise. -</p> - -<p> -“No, I do not require to see the paintings. It is merely a matter of -statistics. There now! I had better go to bed, my head will be all the -clearer to-morrow. Good-night, sir.” -</p> - -<p> -He leant on a walking-stick, which he used even in the house, and -withdrew, walking painfully, the lower part of his back already succumbing -to paralysis. Monsieur Josserand felt perplexed: he had not understood -very clearly, he feared he had not spoken of the tickets with sufficient -enthusiasm. -</p> - -<p> -But a slight hubbub coming from the drawing-room, attracted -</p> - -<p> -Trublot and Octave again to the door. They saw a lady of about fifty -enter, very stout, and still handsome, followed by a young man, correctly -attired, and with a serious air about him. -</p> - -<p> -“What! they arrive together!” murmured Trublot. “Well! I never!” -</p> - -<p> -The new-comers were Madame Dambreville and Léon Josserand. She had -undertaken to find him a wife; then, whilst waiting, she had kept him for -her own personal use; and they were now in their full honeymoon, -attracting general attention in the middle-class drawing-rooms. There were -whisperings amongst the mothers who had daughters to marry. But Madame -Duveyrier was advancing to meet Madame Dambreville, who supplied her with -young men for her choruses. Madame Josserand at once supplanted her, and -overwhelmed her son’s friend with all sorts of attentions, reflecting that -she might have need of her. Léon coldly exchanged a few words with his -mother; yet, she was now beginning to think that he would after all be -able to do something for himself. -</p> - -<p> -“Berthe does not see you,” said she to Madame Dambreville. “Excuse her, -she is telling Monsieur Auguste of some remedy.” -</p> - -<p> -“But they are very well together, we must leave them alone,” replied the -lady, understanding at a glance. -</p> - -<p> -They both watched Berthe maternally. She had ended by pushing Auguste into -the recess caused by the window, and was keeping him there with her pretty -gestures. He was becoming animated, and running the risk of a bad -headache. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, a group of grave men were talking politics in the parlour. -There had been a stormy sitting of the Senate the day before, where they -were discussing the address respecting the Roman question; and Doctor -Juillerat, whose opinions were atheistical and revolutionary, was -maintaining that Rome ought to be given to the king of Italy; whilst the -Abbé Mauduit, one of the heads of the Ultramontane party prophesied the -most awful catastrophes, if Frenchmen did not shed the last drop of their -blood in supporting the temporal power of the pope. -</p> - -<p> -“Perhaps some <i>modus vivendi</i> may be found which will prove -acceptable to both parties,” observed Léon Josserand arriving. -</p> - -<p> -He was just then the secretary of a celebrated barrister, one of the -deputies of the left. During two years, having nothing to expect from his -parents, whose mediocrity moreover exasperated him, he had frequented the -students’ quarter in the guise of a ferocious demagogue. But, since his -acquaintance with the Dambrevilles, at whose expense he was satisfying his -first appetites, he was calming down, and drifting into the learned -Republican. -</p> - -<p> -“No, no agreement is possible,” said the priest. “The Church could not -make terms.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then, it shall vanish!” exclaimed the doctor. -</p> - -<p> -And, though great friends, having met at the bedsides of all the departing -souls of the Saint-Roch district, they seemed irreconcilable, the doctor -thin and nervous, the priest fat and affable. The latter preserved a -polite smile, even when making his most absolute statements, like a man of -the world, tolerant for the shortcomings of existence, but also like a -Catholic who did not intend to abandon any of his religions belief. -</p> - -<p> -“The Church vanish, pooh!” said Campardon with a furious air, just to be -well with the priest, from whom he was expecting a large order. -</p> - -<p> -Besides, it was the opinion of almost all the gentlemen: it could not -vanish. Théophile Vabre, who, coughing and spitting, and shaking with -fever, dreamed of universal happiness through the organization of a -humanitarian republic, alone maintained that, perhaps, it would be -transformed. -</p> - -<p> -The priest resumed in his gentle voice: -</p> - -<p> -“The Empire is committing suicide. You will see it is so, next year, when -the elections come on.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! as for the Empire, we permit you to rid us of it,” said the doctor -boldly. “You will be rendering us a precious service.” -</p> - -<p> -Then, Duveyrier, who seemed listening profoundly, shook his head. He -belonged to an Orleanist family; but he owed everything to the Empire and -considered he ought to defend it. -</p> - -<p> -“Believe me,” he at length declared severely, “do not shake the -foundations of society, or everything will collapse. It is we, as sure as -fate, who suffer from every catastrophe.” -</p> - -<p> -“Very true!” observed Monsieur Josserand, who entertained no opinion, but -remembered his wife’s instructions. -</p> - -<p> -All spoke at once. None of them liked the Empire. Doctor Juillerat -condemned the Mexican expedition, the Abbé Mauduit blamed the recognition -of the kingdom of Italy. Yet, Théophile Vabre and even Léon felt anxious -when Duveyrier threatened them with another ’93. What was the use of those -continual revolutions? had not liberty been obtained? and the hatred of -new ideas, the fear of the people wishing their share, calmed the -liberalism of those satisfied middle-class men. They all declared, -however, that they would vote against the Emperor, for he was in need of a -lesson. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! how they bore me!” said Trublot, who had been trying to understand -for some minutes past. -</p> - -<p> -Octave persuaded him to return to the ladies. In the recess of the window, -Berthe was deafening Auguste with her laughter. This big fellow, with his -pale blood, was forgetting his fear of women, and was becoming quite red, -beneath the attacks of the lovely girl, whose breath warmed his face. -Madame Josserand, however, probably considered that the affair was -dragging, for she looked fixedly at Hortense; and the latter obediently -went and gave her sister her assistance. -</p> - -<p> -“Are you quite recovered, madame?” Octave dared to ask Valérie. “Quite, -sir, thank you,” replied she coolly, as though she remembered nothing. -</p> - -<p> -Madame Juzeur spoke to the young man about some old lace which she wished -to show him, to have his opinion of it; and he had to promise to look in -on her for a moment on the morrow. Then, as the Abbé Mauduit re-entered -the drawing-room, she called him and made him sit beside her with an air -of rapture. -</p> - -<p> -The conversation had again resumed. The ladies were discussing their -servants. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! yes,” continued Madame Duveyrier, “I am satisfied with Clémenee, -she is a very clean and very active girl.” -</p> - -<p> -“And your Hippolyte,” asked Madamo Josserand, “had you not the intention -of discharging him?” -</p> - -<p> -Just then, Hippolyte, the footman, was handing round some ices. When he -had withdrawn, tall, strong, and with a florid complexion, Clotilde -answered in an embarrassed way: -</p> - -<p> -“We have decided to keep him. It is so unpleasant changing! You know, -servants get used to one another, and I should not like to part with -Clémence.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand hastened to agree with her, feeling that they were on -delicate ground. There was some hope of marrying the two together, some -day; and the Abbé Mauduit, whom the Duveyriers’ had consulted in the -matter, slowly wagged his head, as though to dissemble a state of affairs -known to all the house, but of which no one ever spoke. All the ladies now -opened their hearts: Valérie had sent another servant about her business -that very morning, and that made three in a week; Madamo Juzeur had -decided to take a young girl of fifteen from the foundling hospital so as -to teach her herself; as for Madame Josserand, her complaints of Adèle -seemed never likely to cease, a slut, a good-for-nothing, whose goings-on -were most extraordinary. And they all, feeling languid in the blaze of the -candles and the perfume of the flowers, sank deeper into these ante-room -stories, wading through greasy account-books, and taking a delight in -relating the insolence of a coachman or of a scullery-maid. -</p> - -<p> -“Have you seen Julie?” abruptly asked Trublot of Octave, in a mysterious -tone of voice. -</p> - -<p> -And, as the other looked at him in amazement, he added: -</p> - -<p> -“My dear fellow, she is stunning. Go and see her. Just pretend you want to -go somewhere, and then slip into the kitchen. She is stunning!” -</p> - -<p> -He was speaking of the Duveyriers’ cook. The ladies’ conversation was -taking a turn: Madame Josserand was describing, with overflowing -admiration, a very modest estate which the Duveyriers had near -Villeneuve-Saint-Georges, and which she had merely caught a glimpse of -from the train, one day when she was going to Fontainebleau. But Clotilde -did not like the country, she lived there as little as possible, merely -during the holidays of her son, Gustave, who was then studying rhetoric at -the Lycée Bonaparte. -</p> - -<p> -“Caroline is right in not wishing to have any children,” declared she, -turning towards Madame Hédouin, seated two chairs away from her. “The -little things interfere with all your habits!” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Hédouin said that she liked them a good deal. But she was much too -busy; her husband was constantly away, and she had everything to look -after. -</p> - -<p> -Octave, standing up behind her chair, searched with a side glance the -little curly hairs, as black as ink, on the nape of her neck, and the -snowy whiteness of her bosom, which—her dress being open very low—disappeared -in a mass of lace. She ended by completely confusing him, as she sat there -so calm, speaking but rarely and with a continuous smile on her handsome -face; he had never before seen so superb a creature, even at Marseilles. -Decidedly, it was worth trying, though it would be a long task. -</p> - -<p> -“Having children robs women of their good looks so quickly!” said he in -her ear, leaning over, feeling an absolute necessity to speak to her, and -yet finding nothing else to say. -</p> - -<p> -She slowly raised her large eyes, and then replied with the simple air -with which she would give him an order at the warehouse. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! no, Monsieur Octave; with me it is not for that. One must have the -time, that is all.” -</p> - -<p> -But Madame Duveyrier intervened. She had merely greeted the young man with -a slight bow, when Campardon had introduced him to her; and now she was -examining him, and listening to him, without seeking to hide a sudden -interest. When she heard him conversing with her friend, she could not -help asking: -</p> - -<p> -“Pray, excuse me, sir. What voice have you?” -</p> - -<p> -He did not understand immediately; but he ended by saying that his was a -tenor voice. Then, Clotilde became quite enthusiastic: a tenor voice, -really! what a piece of luck, tenor voices were becoming so rare! For -instance, for the “Blessing of the Daggers,” which they were going to sing -by-and-by, she had never been able to find more than three tenors among -her acquaintances, when at least five were required. And, suddenly -excited, her eyes sparkling, she had to restrain herself from going at -once to the piano to try his voice. He was obliged to promise to come one -evening for the purpose. Trublot, who was behind him, kept nudging him -with his elbow, ferociously enjoying himself in his impassibility. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! so you are in for it too!” murmured he, when she had moved away. “For -myself, my dear fellow, she first of all thought I had a barytone voice; -then, seeing that I did not get on all right, she tried me as a tenor; but -as I went no better, she has decided to use me to-night as bass. I am one -of the monks.” -</p> - -<p> -But he had to leave Octave as Madame Duveyrier was just then calling him; -they were about to sing the chorus, the great piece of the evening. There -was quite a commotion. Some fifteen men, all amateurs, and all recruited -among the guests of the house, painfully opened a passage for themselves -through the groups of ladies, to form in front of the piano. They were -constantly brought to a standstill, and asked to be excused, in voices -drowned by the hum of conversations; whilst the fans were moved more -rapidly in the increasing heat. At length, Madame Duveyrier counted them; -they were all there, and she distributed them their parts, which she had -copied out herself. Campardon took the part of Saint-Bris; a young auditor -attached to the Council of State was intrusted with De Nevers’s few bars; -then came eight nobles, four aldermen, and three monks, represented by -barristers, clerks, and simple householders. She, who accompanied, had -also reserved herself the part of Valentine, passionate cries which she -uttered whilst striking chords; for she would have no lady amongst the -gentlemen, the resigned troop of whom she directed with all the severity -of a conductor of an orchestra. -</p> - -<p> -The conversations continued, an intolerable noise issued from the parlour -especially, where the political discussions were evidently entering on a -disagreeable phase. Then Clotilde, taking a key from her pocket, tapped -gently with it on the piano. A murmur ran through the room, the voices -dropped, two streams of black coats again flowed to the doors; and, -looking over the heads, one beheld for a moment Duveyrier’s red spotted -face wearing an agonised expression. Octave had remained standing behind -Madame Hédouin, the glances from his lowered eyes losing themselves, in -the shadows of her bosom, in the depths of the lace. But when the silence -was almost complete, there was a burst of laughter, and he raised his -head. It was Berthe, who was amused at some joke of Auguste’s; she had -heated his poor blood to such a point that he was becoming quite jovial. -Every person in the drawing-room looked at them, mothers became grave, -members of the family exchanged a glance. -</p> - -<p> -“She has such spirits!” murmured Madame Josserand tenderly, in such a way -as to be heard. -</p> - -<p> -Hortense, close to her sister, was assisting her with complaisant -abnegation, joining in her laughter, and pushing her up against the young -man; whilst the breeze which entered through the partly open window behind -them gently swelled the big crimson silk curtains. -</p> - -<p> -But a sepulchral voice resounded, all the heads turned towards the piano. -Campardon, his mouth wide open, his beard spread out in a lyrical blast, -was giving the first line: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> -“Yes, we are here assembled by the queen’s command.” -</p> - -<p> -Clotilde at once ran up a scale and down again; then, her eyes fixed on -the ceiling, a look of fright on her face, she uttered the cry: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> -“I tremble!” -</p> - -<p> -And the whole thing followed, the eight barristers, clerks and -householders, their noses on their parts, in the postures of schoolboys -humming and hawing over a page of Greek, swore that they were ready to -deliver France. This opening was a surprise, for the voices were stifled -beneath the low ceiling, one was unable to catch more than a sort of hum, -like a noise of passing carts full of paving stones causing the windows to -rattle. But when Saint-Bris’s melodious line: “For this holy cause—” -unrolled the principal theme, some of the ladies recognised it and nodded -their heads knowingly. All were warming to the work, the nobles shouted -out at random: “We swear it!—We will follow you!” and, each time, it -was like an explosion which caught the guests full in the chest. -</p> - -<p> -“They sing too loud,” murmured Octave in Madame Hédouin’s ear. -</p> - -<p> -She did not move. Then, as De Nevers’s and Valentine’s explanations bored -him, more especially as the auditor attached to the Council of State was a -false barytone, he corresponded by signs with Trublot who, whilst awaiting -the entrance of the monks, drew his attention with a wink to the window -where Berthe was continuing to keep Auguste imprisoned. Now, they were -alone, in the fresh breeze from outside; whilst, with her ear pricked up, -Hortense stood before them, leaning against the curtain and mechanically -twisting the loop. No one was watching them now, even Madame Josserand and -Madame Dambreville were looking away, after an instinctive exchange of -glances. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, Clotilde, her fingers on the keys, carried away and unable to -risk a gesture, stretehed her neck and addressed to the music stand this -oath intended for De Nevers: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> -“Ah! from to-day all my blood is yours!” -</p> - -<p> -The aldermen had made their entrance, a substitute, two attorneys, and a -notary. The quartette was well delivered, the line: “For this holy cause—” -returned, spread out, supported by half the chorus, in a continuous -expansion. Cam pardon, his mouth opened wider and wider, gave the orders -for the combat, with a terrible roll of syllables. And, suddenly, the -chant of the monks burst forth: Trublot sang from his stomach, so as to -reach the low notes. -</p> - -<p> -Octave, having had the curiosity to wateh him singing, was struck with -surprise, when he again cast his eyes in the direction of the window. As -though carried away by the chorus, Hortense had unfastened the loop, by a -movement which might have been unintentional; and, in falling, the big -crimson silk curtain had completely hidden Auguste and Berthe. They were -there behind it, leaning against the window bar, without a movement -betraying their presence. Octave no longer troubled himself about Trublot, -who was just then blessing the daggers: “Holy daggers, by us be blessed.” -Whatever could they be doing behind that curtain? The fugue was -commencing; to the deep tones of the monks, the chorus replied: “Death! -death! death!” And still they did not move; perhaps, feeling the heat too -much, they were simply watching the cabs pass. But Saint-Bris’s melodious -line had again returned, by degrees all the voices uttered it with the -whole strength of their lungs, progressively and in a final outburst of -extraordinary force. It was like a gust of wind burying itself in the -farthest corners of the too narrow room, scaring the candles, making the -guests turn pale and their ears bleed. Clotilde furiously strummed away on -the piano, carrying the gentlemen along with her with a glance; then the -voices quieted down, almost whispering: “At midnight, let there be not a -sound!” and she continued on alone, using the soft pedal, and imitating -the cadenced and distant footsteps of some departing patrol. -</p> - -<p> -Then, suddenly, in the midst of this expiring music, of this relief after -so much uproar, one heard a voice exclaim: -</p> - -<p> -“You are hurting me!” -</p> - -<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> -<img src="images/0127.jpg" alt="0127 " width="100%" /> -</div> - -<p> -All the heads again turned towards the window. Madame Dambreville kindly -made herself useful, by going and pulling the curtain aside. And the whole -drawing-room beheld Auguste looking very confused and Berthe very red, -still leaning against the bar of the window. -</p> - -<p> -“What is the matter, my treasure?” asked Madame Josserand earnestly. -</p> - -<p> -“Nothing, mamma. Monsieur Auguste knocked my arm with the window. I was so -warm!” -</p> - -<p> -She turned redder still. There were, affected smiles and scandalized -pouts. Madame Duveyrier, who, for a month past, had been trying to keep -her brother out of Berthe’s way, turned quite pale, more especially as the -incident had spoilt the effect of her chorus. However, after the first -moment of surprise, the applause burst forth, she was congratulated, and -some amiable things were said about the gentlemen. How delightfully they -had sung! what pains she must have taken to get them to sing so well in -time! Really, it could not have been rendered better at a theatre. But, -beneath all this praise, she could not fail to hear the whispering which -went round the drawing-room: the young girl was too much compromised, a -marriage had become inevitable. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! he is hooked!” observed Trublot as he rejoined Octave. “What a -ninny! as though he could not have pinched her whilst we were all -bellowing! I thought all the while that he was taking advantage of it. You -know, in drawing-rooms where they go in for singing, one pinches a lady, -and if she cries out it does not matter, no one hears!” -</p> - -<p> -Berthe, now very calm, was again laughing, whilst Hortense looked at -Auguste with her crabbed air of a girl who had taken a diploma; and, in -their triumph, the mother’s lessons reappeared, the undisguised contempt -for man. All the gentlemen had now invaded the drawing-room, mingling with -the ladies, and raising their voices. Monsieur Josserand, feeling sick at -heart through Berthe’s adventure, had drawn near his wife. He listened -uneasily as she thanked Madame Dambreville for all her kindness to their -son Léon, whom she had most decidedly changed to his advantage. But his -uneasiness increased when he heard her again refer to her daughters. She -pretended to converse in low tones with Madame Juzeur, though speaking all -the while for Valérie and Clotilde, who were standing up close beside her. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, yes! her uncle mentioned it in a letter again to-day; Berthe will -have fifty thousand francs. It is not much, no doubt, but when the money -is there, and as safe as the bank too!” -</p> - -<p> -This lie roused his indignation. He could not help stealthily touching her -shoulder. She looked at him, forcing him to lower his eyes before the -resolute expression of her face. Then, as Madame Duveyrier turned round -quite amiably, she asked her with great concern for news of her father. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! papa has probably gone to bed,” replied the young woman, quite won -over. “He works so hard!” -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Josserand said that Monsieur Vabre had indeed retired, so as to -have his ideas clear on the morrow. And he mumbled a few words: a most -remarkable mind, extraordinary faculties; asking himself at the same time -where he would get that dowry from, and thinking what a figure he would -cut, the day the marriage contract had to be signed. -</p> - -<p> -A great noise of chairs being moved now filled the drawingroom. The ladies -passed into the dining-room, where the tea was ready served. Madame -Josserand sailed victoriously in, surrounded by her daughters and the -Vabre family. Soon only the group of serious men remained amidst the -vacant chairs. Campardon had button-holed the Abbé Mauduit: there was a -question of some repairs to the calvary at Saint-Roch. The architect said -he was quite free, for the diocese of Evreux gave him very little to do. -All he had in hand there were a pulpit and a heating apparatus, and also -some new ranges to be placed in the bishop’s kitchen, which work his -inspector was quite competent to see after. Then, the priest promised to -have the matter definitely settled at the next meeting of the vestry. And -they both joined the group where Duveyrier was being complimented on a -judgment, of which he admitted himself to be the author; the presiding -judge, who was his friend, reserved certain easy and brilliant tasks for -him, so as to bring him to the fore. -</p> - -<p> -“Have you read this last novel?” asked Léon, looking through a number of -the “Revue des Deux Mondes,” lying on a table. “It is well written; but -there is another adultery, it is really becoming wearisome!” -</p> - -<p> -And the conversation turned upon morality. Campardon said that there were -some very virtuous women. All the others agreed with him. Moreover, -according to the architect, one could always live peacefully at home, if -one only went the right way about it. Théophile Vabre observed that it -depended on the woman, without explaining himself farther. They wished to -have Doctor Juillerat’s opinion, but he smiled and begged to be excused: -he considered virtue was a question of health. During this, Duveyrier had -remained wrapped in thought. -</p> - -<p> -“Dear me!” murmured he at length, “these authors exaggerate; adultery is -very rare amongst educated people. A woman who comes from a good family, -has in her soul a flower—” -</p> - -<p> -He was for grand sentiments, he uttered the word “ideal” with an emotion -which brought a mist to his eyes. And he said that the Abbé Mauduit was -right when the latter spoke of the necessity for the wife and mother -having some religious belief. The conversation was thus brought back to -religion and politics, at the point where these gentlemen had previously -left it. The Church would never disappear, because it was the foundation -of all families, the same as it was the natural support of governments. -</p> - -<p> -“As a sort of police, perhaps it is,” murmured the doctor. -</p> - -<p> -Duveyrier, however, did not like politics being discussed in his house, -and he contented himself with severely declaring, as he glanced into the -dining-room where Berthe and Hortense were stuffing Auguste with -sandwiches: -</p> - -<p> -“There is one fact, gentlemen, which settles everything: religion -moralizes marriage.” -</p> - -<p> -At the same moment, Trublot, seated on a sofa beside Octave, was bending -towards the latter. -</p> - -<p> -“By the way,” asked he, “would you like me to get you invited to a lady’s -where there is plenty of amusement?” -</p> - -<p> -And as his companion desired to know what kind of a lady, he added, -indicating the counsellor by a sign: -</p> - -<p> -“His mistress.” -</p> - -<p> -“Impossible!” said Octave in amazement. -</p> - -<p> -Trublot slowly opened and closed his eyes. It was so. When one married a -woman who was disobliging and disgusted with one’s little ailments, and -who strummed on her piano to the point of making all the dogs of the -neighbourhood ill, one had to go elsewhere and be made a fool of! -</p> - -<p> -“Let us moralize marriage, gentlemen, let us moralize marriage,” repeated -Duveyrier in his rigid way, with his inflamed face, where Octave now -distinguished the foul blood of secret vices. -</p> - -<p> -The gentlemen were being called into the dining-room. The Abbé Mauduit, -left for a moment alone in the middle of the empty drawing-room, looked -from a distance at the crush of guests. His fat shrewd face bore an -expression of sadness. He who heard all those ladies, both old and young, -at confession, knew them all in the flesh, the same as Doctor Juillerat, -and he had had to end by merely watching over appearances, like a master -of the ceremonies throwing the mantle of religion over the corruption of -the middle classes, trembling at the certainty of a final downfall, the -day when the canker would appear in all its hideousness. At times, in his -ardent and sincere faith of a priest, his indignation would overcome him. -But his smile returned; he took the cup of tea which Berthe came and -offered him, and conversed a minute with her so as to cover, as it were, -the scandal of the window, with his sacred character; and he again became -the man of the world, resigned to merely insisting upon a decent behaviour -from those sinners, who were escaping him, and who would have compromised -providence. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, these are fine goings-on!” murmured Octave, whose respect for the -house had received another shock. -</p> - -<p> -And seeing Madame Hédouin move towards the ante-room, he wished to reach -there before her, and followed Trublot, who was also leaving. His -intention was to see her home. She refused; it was scarcely midnight, and -she lived so near. Then, a rose having fallen from the bouquet at her -breast, he picked it up in spite and made a pretence of keeping it. The -young woman’s beautiful eyebrows contracted; then, she said in her quiet -way: -</p> - -<p> -“Pray open the door for me, Monsieur Octave. Thank you.” When she had -departed, the young man, who was rather confused, looked for Trublot. But -Trublot had disappeared, the same as he had done at the Josserands’. This -time also he must have slipped along the passage leading to the kitchen. -</p> - -<p> -Octave, greatly put out, went off to his room, his rose in his hand. -Upstairs, he beheld Marie leaning over the balustrade, at the place where -he had left her; she had been listening for his footstep, and had hastened -to see him come up. And when she had made him enter her room, she said: -</p> - -<p> -“Jules has not yet come home. Did you enjoy yourself? Were there any -pretty dresses?” -</p> - -<p> -But she did not give him time to answer. She had caught sight of the rose, -and was seized with a childish delight. “Is that flower for me? You have -thought of me? Ah! how nice of you! how nice of you!” -</p> - -<p> -And her eyes filled with tears, she became quite confused and very red. -Then Octave, suddenly moved, kissed her tenderly. -</p> - -<p> -Towards one o’clock, the Josserands withdrew in their turn. Adèle always -left a candle and some matches on a chair. When the members of the family, -who had not exchanged a word coming upstairs, had entered the dining-room, -from whence they had gone down in despair, they suddenly yielded to a mad -delirious joy, holding each others’ hands, and dancing like savages round -the table; the father himself gave way to the contagion, the mother cut -capers, and the daughters uttered little inarticulate cries; whilst the -candle in the middle of them showed up their huge shadows careering along -the walls. -</p> - -<p> -“At last, it is settled!” said Madame Josserand, out of breath, dropping -on to a chair. -</p> - -<p> -But she jumped up again at once, in a fit of maternal affection, and ran -and imprinted two big kisses on Berthe’s cheeks. -</p> - -<p> -“I am very pleased, very pleased indeed with you, my darling. You have -just rewarded me for all my efforts. My poor girl, my poor girl it is true -then, this time!” -</p> - -<p> -Her voice was choking, her heart was in her mouth. She succumbed in her -flaring dress, beneath the weight of a deep and sincere emotion, suddenly -overwhelmed in the hour of her triumph by the fatigues of her terrible -campaign which had lasted three winters. Berthe had to swear that she was -not ill, for her mother thought she looked ill, and was full of little -attentions, almost insisting on making her a cup of infusion. When the -young girl was in bed, she went barefooted and carefully tucked her in, -like in the already distant days of her childhood. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, Monsieur Josserand, his head on his pillow, awaited her. She -blew out the light, and stepped over him, to reach the side of the bed -nearest the wall. He was wrapped in thought, his uneasiness having -returned, his conscience all upset by that promise of a dowry of fifty -thousand francs. And he ventured to mention his scruples aloud. Why make a -promise, when one has a doubt of being able to keep it? It was not honest. -</p> - -<p> -“Not honest!” exclaimed Madame Josserand in the dark, her voice resuming -its ferocious tone. “It is not honest to let your daughters become old -maids, sir; yes, old maids, such was perhaps your dream! We have plenty of -time to turn about, we can talk the matter over, we will end by persuading -her uncle. And understand, sir, that in my family, we have always been -honest!” -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> -CHAPTER VI. -</h2> - -<p class="pfirst"> -<span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>n the morrow, -which was a Sunday, Octave with his eyes open lay thinking for an hour in -the warmth of the sheets. He awoke happy, full of the lucidity of the -morning laziness. What need was there to hurry? He was very comfortable at -“The Ladies’ Paradise,” he was there losing all his provincial ways, and -he had an absolute and profound conviction of one day possessing Madame -Hédouin, who would make his fortune; but it was an affair that required -prudence, a long series of gallant tactics, which his voluptuous passion -for women was already enjoying by anticipation. As he was dozing off -again, forming his plans, allowing himself six months to succeed in, Marie -Pichon’s image resulted in calming his impatience. A woman like that was a -real boon; he had merely to stretch out his arm, when he required her, and -she did not cost him a sou. Whilst awaiting the other, he could certainly -not hope for anything better. In his half-slumber, this bargain and this -convenience ended by making him quite tender-hearted: she appeared to him -very nice and pretty with all her good-nature, and he promised himself he -would behave better to her in future. -</p> - -<p> -“Hang it! nine o’clock!” said he thoroughly roused by his clock striking. -“I must get up.” -</p> - -<p> -A fine rain was falling. Then, he made up his mind not to go out all day. -He would accept an invitation to dine with the Pichons, which he had been -refusing for some time past, dreading another meeting with the Vuillaumes; -it would please Marie, he would find opportunities of kissing her behind -the doors; and, as she was always asking for books, he even thought of -giving her the surprise of a quantity which he had, stowed away in one of -his boxes in the loft. When he was dressed, he went down to Monsieur Gourd -to get the key of this common loft, where all the tenants got rid of -whatever things were in their way, or which they had no present use for. -</p> - -<p> -Down below, on that damp morning, it was quite stifling in the heated -staircase, the imitation marble, the tall looking-glasses, and the -mahogany doors of which were covered with steam. Under the porch, a poorly -clad woman, mother Pérou, to whom the Gourds paid four sons an hour for -doing the heavy work of the house, was washing the pavement with plenty of -water, in face of the icy-cold blast blowing from the courtyard. -</p> - -<p> -“Eh! I say old ’un, just rub that a bit better, that I may not find a spot -on it!” called out Monsieur Gourd, warmly covered up, standing on the -threshold of his apartment. -</p> - -<p> -And, Octave arriving, he talked to him of mother Pérou with the brutal -domineering spirit, the mad mania for revenge, of former servants who were -being served in their turn. -</p> - -<p> -“A lazy creature that I can do nothing with! I should like to have seen -her at the duke’s! Ah well! they stood no nonsense there! I’ll send her to -the right about, if she doesn’t give me my money’s worth! That’s all I -care about. But, excuse me, what is it you require, Monsieur Mouret?” -</p> - -<p> -Octave asked for the key. Then the doorkeeper, without hurrying himself, -continued to explain to him that, if they had chosen, Madame Gourd and he, -they might have lived respectably in their own house, at Mort-la-Ville; -only, Madame Gourd adored Paris, in spite of her swollen legs which -prevented her getting as far as the pavement; and they were waiting until -they had made their income into a round sum, their hearts almost breaking -moreover and drawing back, each time that they felt a desire to go and -live at last upon the little fortune which they had got together sou by -sou. -</p> - -<p> -“No one had better bother me,” concluded he, drawing himself up to the -full height of his handsome figure. “I’m no longer working for a living. -The key of the loft you said, did you not, Monsieur Mouret? Wherever have -we put the key of the loft, my dear?” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Gourd, tenderly seated before a wood fire, the flames of which -enlivened the big light room, was drinking her coffee and milk out of a -silver cup. She had no idea; perhaps in one of the drawers. And, whilst -soaking her toast, she did not take her eyes off the door of the servants’ -staircase, at the other end of the courtyard, looking barer and severer -than ever in the rain. -</p> - -<p> -“Look out! here she is!” said she suddenly, as a woman appeared in the -doorway. -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Gourd at once went and placed himself before his room, so as to -prevent the woman from passing, whilst she slackened her footsteps with an -air of anxiety. -</p> - -<p> -“We have been on the look-out for her since the first thing this morning, -Monsieur Mouret,” resumed he, in a low voice. “Last night we saw her pass. -You know she comes from that carpenter, upstairs, the only workman we have -in the house, thank goodness! And if the landlord only listened to me, he -would let the room remain empty, a servant’s room which does not go with -the other apartments. For one hundred and thirty francs a year, it is -really not worth while having such a scum in the place—” -</p> - -<p> -He interrupted himself, to ask the woman roughly: -</p> - -<p> -“Where do you come from?” -</p> - -<p> -“From upstairs, of course!” answered she, walking on. -</p> - -<p> -Then, he exploded. -</p> - -<p> -“We’ll have no women here, understand! The man who brings you has already -been told so. If you return here to sleep, I’ll fetch a policeman, that’s -what I’ll do! and we’ll see if you’ll continue your goings-on in a -respectable house!” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! don’t bother me!” said the woman. “I’ve a right here; I shall come if -I choose.” -</p> - -<p> -And she went off, followed by Monsieur Gourd’s indignation, as he talked -of going up to fetch the landlord. Had any one ever heard the like! such a -creature amongst respectable people, who did not tolerate the least -immorality! And it seemed as though that little room occupied by a workman -was the abomination of the house, a bad place, the supervision of which -offended the doorkeeper’s delicacy and spoilt his rest at night. -</p> - -<p> -“And that key!” Octave ventured to observe. -</p> - -<p> -But the doorkeeper, furious at a tenant’s having been able to see his -authority disputed, fell on mother Pérou, wishing to show that he knew how -to make himself obeyed. Did she take him for a fool? She had again -splashed the door of his room with her broom. If he paid her out of his -own pocket, it was to save him from dirtying his hands, and yet he -continually had to clean up after her. Might the devil take him if he was -ever again charitable enough to have anything more to do with her! she -could go and croak. Without answering, and bent double by the fatigue of -this task so much above her strength, the old body continued to scrub with -her skinny arms, struggling to keep back her tears, so great was the -respectful fright that broad shouldered gentleman in cap and slippers -caused her. -</p> - -<p> -“I remember, my darling,” called Madame Gourd from her easy chair in which -she passed the day, warming her fat person. “It was I who hid the key -under the shirts, so that the servants should not be always going into the -loft. Come, give it to Monsieur Mouret.” -</p> - -<p> -“They’re a nice lot, too, those servants!” murmured Monsieur Gourd, who, -from his many years in service, had preserved a hatred for menials. “Here -is the key, sir; but I must ask you to bring it me back, for no place can -be left open, without the servants getting in there and misconducting -themselves.” -</p> - -<p> -To save crossing the wet courtyard, Octave went back up the principal -staircase. It was not till he had reached the fourth floor that he gained -the servants’ staircase, by taking the door of communication that was -close to his room. Up above, a long passage was intersected twice at right -angles, it was painted pale yellow with a dado of darker ochre; and the -doors of the servants’ rooms, also yellow, were uniform and placed at -equal distances, the same as in the corridor of a hospital. An icy chill -came from the zinc roof. All was bare and clean, with that unsavoury odour -of the lodgings of the poor. -</p> - -<p> -The loft overlooking the courtyard was in the right wing, at the further -end. But Octave, who had not been there since the day of his arrival, was -going along the left wing, when, suddenly, a spectacle which he beheld -inside one of the rooms, by the partly open door, brought him to a -standstill and filled him with amazement. A gentleman was standing in his -shirt sleeves before a little looking-glass, tying his white cravat. -</p> - -<p> -“What! you here?” said he. -</p> - -<p> -It was Trublot. He also, at first, stood as one petrified. No one ever -came near there at that hour. Octave, who had walked in, looked at him in -that room with its narrow iron bedstead, and its washstand on which a -little bundle of woman’s hair was floating on the soapy water; and, -perceiving the black dress coat hanging up amongst some aprons, he could -not restrain himself from saying: -</p> - -<p> -“So you sleep with the cook?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not at all!” replied Trublot, in a fright. -</p> - -<p> -Then, recognising the stupidity of this lie, he began to laugh in his -convinced and satisfied way. -</p> - -<p> -“Eh! she is amusing! I assure you, my dear fellow, it is awfully fine!” -</p> - -<p> -Whenever he dined out, he escaped from the drawing-room to go and pinch -the cook before her stove; and when she was willing to trust him with her -key, he would take his departure before midnight, and go and wait -patiently for her in her room, seated on a trunk, in his black dress coat -and white tie. On the morrow, he would leave by the principal staircase -towards ten o’clock, and pass before the doorkeeper as though he had been -making an early call on one of the tenants. So long as he was pretty -punctual at the stockbroker’s, his father was satisfied. Moreover, he was -now employed in attending the Bourse from twelve to three. It would -sometimes happen that on a Sunday he would spend the whole day in some -servant’s bed, happy, lost, his nose buried in the pillow. -</p> - -<p> -“You, who are going to be so rich some day!” said Octave, his face -retaining an expression of disgust. -</p> - -<p> -Then Trublot learnedly declared: -</p> - -<p> -“My dear fellow, you don’t know what it is; don’t speak about it.” -</p> - -<p> -And he stood up for Julie, a tall Burgundian of forty, with her big face -pitted with small-pox, but who had the body of a superb woman. One might -disrobe the ladies of the house; they were all sticks, not one would come -up to her knee. Besides that, she was a girl very well to do; and to prove -it he opened her drawers, displayed a bonnet, some jewellery, and some -chemises trimmed with lace, no doubt stolen from Madame Duveyrier. Octave, -indeed, now noticed a certain coquettishness about the room, some gilded -cardboard boxes on the drawers, a chintz curtain hung over the skirts, all -the accessaries of a cook aping the grand lady. -</p> - -<p> -“There is no denying, you see, that one may own to this one,” repeated -Trublot. “If they were only all like her!” -</p> - -<p> -At this moment a noise came from the servants’ staircase. It was Adèle -coming up to wash her ears, Madame Josserand having furiously forbidden -her to proceed with her work until she had cleaned them with soap. Trublot -peeped out and recognised her. -</p> - -<p> -“Shut the door quick!” said he very anxiously. “Hush! don’t say a word!” -</p> - -<p> -He pricked up his ear, and listened to Adèle’s heavy footstep along the -passage. -</p> - -<p> -“You sleep with her too, then?” asked Octave, surprised at his paleness, -and guessing that he dreaded a scene. -</p> - -<p> -But this time Trublot was coward enough to deny. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! no indeed! not with that slut! Whoever do you take me for, my dear -fellow!” -</p> - -<p> -He had seated himself on the edge of the bed, and while waiting to finish -dressing, begged Octave not to move; and both remained perfectly still, -whilst that filthy Adèle scoured out her ears, which took at least ten -good minutes. They heard the tempest in her washhand basin. -</p> - -<p> -“There is, however, a room between this one and hers,” softly explained -Trublot, “a room that is let to a workman, a carpenter who stinks the -place out with his onion soup. ‘This morning again, it almost made me -sick. And you know, in all houses, the partitions of the servants’ rooms -are now almost as thin as sheets of paper. I don’t understand the -landlords. It is not very decent, one can scarcely turn in one’s bed. I -think it very inconvenient.” -</p> - -<p> -When Adèle had gone down again, he resumed his swagger and finished -dressing himself, making free use of Julie’s combs and pomatum. Octave -having spoken of the loft, he insisted on taking him there, for he knew -the most out-of-the-way corner of that floor. And, as he passed the doors, -he familiarly mentioned the servants’ names: in this bit of a passage, -after Adèle came Lisa, the Campardons’ maid, a wench who took her -pleasures outside; then, Victoire, their cook, a stranded whale, seventy -years old, the only one he respected; then, Françoise, who had entered -Madame Valerie’s service the day before, and whose trunk would perhaps -only remain twenty-four hours behind the meagre bed upon whieh such a -gallop of maids passed, that it was always necessary to make inquiries -before going there and waiting in the warmth of the blanket; then, a quiet -couple, in the service of the people on the second floor; then, these -people’s coachman, a strapping fellow of whom he spoke with the jealousy -of a handsome man, suspecting him of going from door to door and -noiselessly doing some very fine work; finally, at the other end of the -passage, there were Clémenee, the Duveyriers’ maid, whom her neighbour -Hippolyte, the butler, rejoined matrimonially every night, and little -Louise, the orphan whom Madame Juzeur had taken on trial, a chit of -fifteen, who must hear some very strange things in the small hours, if she -were a light sleeper. -</p> - -<p> -“My dear fellow, don’t lock the door, do this to oblige me,” said he to -Octave, when he had helped him to take the books from the box. “You see, -when the loft is open, one can hide there and wait.” -</p> - -<p> -Octave, having consented to deceive Monsieur Gourd, returned with Trublot -to Julie’s room. The young man had left his overcoat there. Then it was -his gloves that he could not find; he shook the skirts, overturned the -bed-clothes, raised such a dust and such an odour of soiled linen, that -his companion, half-suffocated, opened the window. It looked on to the -narrow inner courtyard, which gave light to all the kitchens. And he was -stretching out his head over this damp well, which exhaled the greasy -odours of dirty sinks, when a sound of voices made him hastily withdraw. -</p> - -<p> -“The little morning gossip,” said Trublot on all fours under the bed, -still searching. “Just listen to it.” -</p> - -<p> -It was Lisa, who was leaning out of the window of the Campardons’ kitchen -to speak to Julie, two storeys below her. -</p> - -<p> -“So it’s come off then this time?” -</p> - -<p> -“It seems so,” replied Julie, raising her head. “You see, she did all she -could to catch him. Hippolyte came from the drawing-room so disgusted, -that he almost had an attack of indigestion.” -</p> - -<p> -“If we were only to do a quarter as much!” resumed Lisa. -</p> - -<p> -But she disappeared a moment, to drink some broth that Victoire brought -her. They got on well together, nursing each other’s vices, the maid -hiding the cook’s drunkenness, and the cook facilitating the maid’s -outings, from which the latter returned quite worn out, her limbs aching, -her eyelids blue. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! my children,” said Victoire leaning out in her turn, her elbows -touching Lisa’s, “you’re young. When you’ve seen what I’ve seen! At old -Campardon’s, there was a niece who had been well brought up, and who used -to go and look at the men through the key-hole.” -</p> - -<p> -“Pretty goings-on!” murmured Julie with the horrified air of a lady. “Had -I been in the place of the little one of the fourth floor, I’d have boxed -Monsieur Auguste’s ears, if he’d touched me in the drawing-room! He’s a -fine fellow!” -</p> - -<p> -At these words, a shrill laugh issued from Madame Juzeur’s kitchen. Lisa, -who was opposite, searched the room with a glance, and caught sight of -Louise, whose precocious fifteen years took a delight in listening to the -other servants. -</p> - -<p> -“She’s spying on us from morning to night, the chit,” said she. “How -stupid it is to thrust a child upon us! We sha’n’t be able to talk at all -soon.” -</p> - -<p> -She did not finish. The sound of a suddenly opened window chased them -away. A profound silence ensued. But they ventured to look out again. Eh! -what! what was the matter? They had thought that Madame Valérie or Madame -Josserand was going to catch them. -</p> - -<p> -“No fear!” resumed Lisa. “They’re all soaking in their washhand basins. -They’re too busy with their skins, to think of bothering us. It’s the only -moment in all the day when one can breathe freely.” -</p> - -<p> -“So it still goes on the same at your place?” asked Julie, who was paring -a carrot. -</p> - -<p> -“Still the same,” replied Victoire. “It’s all over, she’s no more use.” -</p> - -<p> -“But your big noodle of an architect, what does he do then?” -</p> - -<p> -“Takes up with the cousin, of course!” -</p> - -<p> -They were laughing louder than ever, when they beheld the new servant, -Françoise, in Madame Valérie’s kitchen. It was she who had caused the -alarm, by opening the window. At first there was an exchange of -politeness. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! it’s you, mademoiselle.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why, yes, mademoiselle. I am trying to make myself at home, but this -kitchen is so filthy!” -</p> - -<p> -Then came scraps of abominable information. -</p> - -<p> -“You will be more than constant, if you remain there long. The last one -had her arms all scratched by the child, and madame worked her so hard, -that we could hear her crying from here.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah well! that won’t last long with me,” said Françoise. “Thanks all the -same, mademoiselle.” -</p> - -<p> -“Where is she, your missus?” asked Victoire curiously. -</p> - -<p> -“She’s just gone off to lunch with a lady.” -</p> - -<p> -Lisa and Julie stretched their necks, to exchange a glance. They knew her -well, the lady. A funny sort of lunch, with her head down and her feet in -the air! Was it possible, to lie to that extent! They did not pity the -husband, for he deserved more than that; only, it was a disgrace to -humanity, that a woman should not behave herself better. -</p> - -<p> -“There’s Dish-cloth!” interrupted Lisa, discovering the Josserands’ -servant overhead. -</p> - -<p> -Then a host of vulgar expressions were bawled from the depths of this -hole, as obscure and infected as a sewer. All, with their faces raised, -violently yelled at Adèle, who was their butt, the dirty awkward creature -on whom the entire household vented their spite. -</p> - -<p> -“Hallo! she’s washed herself, it’s evident!” -</p> - -<p> -“Just throw your fish bones into the yard again, and I’ll come up and rub -’em in your face!” -</p> - -<p> -Thoroughly bewildered, Adèle looked down upon them from above, her body -half out of the window. She ended by answering: -</p> - -<p> -“Leave me alone, can’t you? or I’ll water you.” -</p> - -<p> -But the yells and the laughter increased. -</p> - -<p> -“You married your young mistress, last night, didn’t you! Eh! it’s you, -perhaps, who teach her how to hook the men?” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! the heartless thing! she stops in a place where they don’t give you -enough to eat! On my word, it’s that which exasperates me against her! -You’re such a fool, you should send ’em to blazes!” -</p> - -<p> -Adèle’s eyes filled with tear’s. -</p> - -<p> -“You can only talk nonsense,” stammered she. “It’s not my fault if I don’t -get enough to eat.” -</p> - -<p> -And the voices swelled, unpleasant words commenced to be exchanged between -Lisa and the new servant, Françoise, who stuck up for Adèle, when the -latter, forgetting the abuse heaped upon her, and yielding to party -instinct, called out: “Look out! here’s madame!” -</p> - -<p> -The silence of the tomb ensued. They all immediately plunged back into -their kitchens; and from the dark chasm of the narrow courtyard all that -ascended was the stench of the dirty sinks, like the exhalation of the -hidden abominations of the families, stirred up there by the spite of the -hirelings. It was the sewer of the house, the shames of which it carried -off, whilst the masters were still lounging in their slippers, and the -grand staircase unfolded the solemnity of its flights, in the silent -suffocation of the hot air stove. Octave recalled the blast of uproar he -received full in the face, when entering the Campardons’ kitchen, the day -of his arrival. -</p> - -<p> -“They are very nice,” said he simply. -</p> - -<p> -And, leaning out in his turn, he looked at the walls, as though annoyed at -not having at once read through them, behind the imitation marble and the -mouldings bright with gilding. -</p> - -<p> -“Where the devil has she stowed them away?” repeated Trublot who had -searched everywhere for his white kid gloves. -</p> - -<p> -At length, he discovered them at the bottom of the bed itself, flattened -out and quite warm. He gave a last glance in the glass, went and hid the -key in the place agreed upon, right at the end of the passage, underneath -an old sideboard left behind by some lodger, and led the way downstairs, -accompanied by Octave. After passing the Josserands’ door, on the grand -staircase, he recovered all his assurance, with his overcoat buttoned up -to the neck to hide his dress clothes and white tie. -</p> - -<p> -“Good-bye, my dear fellow,” said he raising his voice. “I felt anxious, so -I just looked in to hear how the ladies were. They passed a very good -night. Good-bye.” -</p> - -<p> -Octave watched him with a smile as he went downstairs. Then, as it was -almost lunch time, he decided to return the key of the loft later on. -During lunch, at the Campardons’, he particularly watched Lisa, who waited -at table. She had her usual clean and agreeable look; but, in his mind, he -could still hear her defiling her lips with the most abominable words. His -knowledge of women had not deceived him with respect to that girl with the -flat chest. Madame Campardon continued to be enchanted with her, surprised -that she did not steal anything, which was a fact, for her vice was of a -different kind. Moreover, the girl seemed very kind to Angèle, and the -mother entirely trusted her. -</p> - -<p> -It so happened, that on that day Angèle disappeared when the dessert was -placed on the table, and she could be heard laughing in the kitchen. -Octave ventured to make an observation. -</p> - -<p> -“You are perhaps wrong, to let her be so free with the servants.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! there is not much harm in it,” replied Madame Campardon, in her -languid way. “Victoire saw my husband born, and I am so sure of Lisa. -Besides, how can I help it? the child gives me a headache. I should go -crazy, if I heard her jumping about me all day.” -</p> - -<p> -The architect gravely chewed the end of his cigar. -</p> - -<p> -“It is I,” said he, “who make Angèle pass two hours in the kitchen, every -afternoon. I wish her to become a good housewife. It teaches her a great -deal. She never goes out, my dear fellow, she is continually under our -sheltering wing. You will see what a jewel we shall make of her.” -</p> - -<p> -Octave said no more. On certain days, Campardon appeared to him to be very -stupid; and as the architect pressed him to go and hear a great preacher -at Saint-Roch, he refused, obstinately persisting in remaining indoors. -After telling Madame Campardon that he would not dine with them that -evening, he was returning to his room, when he felt the key of the loft in -his pocket. He preferred to go down and return it at once. But on the -landing an unexpected sight attracted his attention. The door of the room -let to the highly distinguished gentleman, whose name was never mentioned, -happened to be open; and this was quite an event, for it was invariably -shut, as though barred by the silence of the tomb. His surprise increased: -he was looking for the gentleman’s work-table, and in its stead had -discovered the corner of a big bedstead, when he beheld a slim lady -dressed in black, her face hidden behind a thick veil, come out of the -room, whilst the door closed noiselessly behind her. -</p> - -<p> -Then, his curiosity being roused, he followed the lady downstairs, to find -out if she were pretty. But she hastened along with an anxious nimbleness, -scarcely touching the Wilton carpet with her tiny boots, and leaving no -trace in the house, save a faint odour of verbena. As he reached the -vestibule, she disappeared, and he only beheld Monsieur Gourd standing -under the porch, cap in hand and bowing very low to her. -</p> - -<p> -When the young man had returned the doorkeeper his key, he tried to make -him talk. -</p> - -<p> -“She looks very lady-like,” said he. “Who is she?” -</p> - -<p> -“A lady,” answered Monsieur Gourd. -</p> - -<p> -And he would add nothing further. But he was more communicative regarding -the gentleman on the third floor. Oh! a man belonging to the very best -society, who had taken that room to come and work there quietly, one night -a week. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! he works!” interrupted Octave. “What at, pray!” -</p> - -<p> -“He was kind enough to ask me to keep his room tidy for him,” continued -Monsieur Gourd, without appearing to have heard the question. “And, you -know, he pays money down. Ah! sir, when one waits on people, one soon -knows whether they are decent He is everything that is most respectable: -it is easily seen by his clothes.” -</p> - -<p> -He was obliged to jump on one side, and Octave himself had to enter the -doorkeepers’ room for a moment, in order to let the carriage of the second -floor people, who were going to the Bois, pass. The horses pawed the -ground, held back by the coachman the reins high; and, when the big closed -landau rolled under the vaulted roof, one beheld through the windows two -handsome children, whose smiling faces almost hid the vague profiles of -the father and mother. Monsieur Gourd drew himself up, polite, but cold. -</p> - -<p> -“They don’t make much noise in the house,” observed Octave. -</p> - -<p> -“No one makes any noise,” said the doorkeeper, curtly. -</p> - -<p> -“Eaeh one lives as he thinks best, that’s all. There are people who know -how to live, and there are people who don’t know how to live.” -</p> - -<p> -The second floor tenants were judged severely, because they associated -with no one. They appeared to be well off, however; but the husband wrote -books, and Monsieur Gourd mistrusted him, curling his lip with contempt; -more especially as no knew what the family was up to in there, with its -air of requiring nobody, and being always perfectly happy. It did not seem -to him natural. -</p> - -<p> -Octave was opening the vestibule door, when Valérie returned. He drew -politely on one side, to allow her to pass before him. -</p> - -<p> -“Are you quite well, madame?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, sir, thank you.” -</p> - -<p> -She was out of breath; and as she went upstairs he looked at her muddy -boots, thinking of that lunch, with her head down and her feet in the air, -which the servants had spoken of. She had no doubt walked home, not having -been able to find a cab. A hot unsavoury odour came from her damp skirts. -Fatigue, a placid weariness of all her flesh, made her at times, in spite -of herself, place her hand on the balustrade. -</p> - -<p> -“What a disagreeable day, is it not, madame?” -</p> - -<p> -“Frightful, sir. And, with that, the atmosphere is very close.” -</p> - -<p> -She had reached the first-floor landing, and they bowed to each other. -But, with a glance, he had seen her haggard face, her eyelids heavy with -sleep, her unkempt hair beneath the bonnet tied on in haste; and as he -continued on his way upstairs, he reflected, annoyed and angry. Then, why -not with him? He was neither more stupid nor uglier than the others. -</p> - -<p> -When before Madame Juzeur’s door, on the third floor, his promise of the -evening before recurred to him. He felt curious about that little woman, -so discreet and with eyes like periwinkles. He rang. It was Madame Juzeur -herself who answered the door. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! dear sir, how kind of you! Pray walk in.” -</p> - -<p> -There was a softness about the lodging which smelt a bit stuffy: carpets -and hangings everywhere, seats as yielding as down, with the warm -unruffled atmosphere of a chest padded with old rainbow coloured satin. In -the drawing-room, to which the double curtains imparted the peacefulness -of a church, Octave was invited to seat himself on a broad and very low -sofa. -</p> - -<p> -“Here is the lace,” resumed Madame Juzeur, reappearing with a sandal-wood -box full of finery. “I am going to make a present of it to some one, and I -am curious to know its value.” -</p> - -<p> -It was a piece of very fine old Brussels. Octave examined it carefully, -and ended by valuing it at three hundred francs. Then, without waiting -further, as their hands were both handling the lace, he bent forward and -kissed her fingers, fingers as delicate as a little girl’s. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! Monsieur Octave, at my age! you cannot think what you are doing!” -murmured Madame Juzeur, prettily, without getting angry. -</p> - -<p> -She was thirty-two, and pretended she was quite old. And she made her -usual allusion to her misfortunes; good heavens! yes, after ten days of -married bliss, the cruel man had gone off one morning and had not -returned, nobody had ever discovered why. -</p> - -<p> -“You can understand,” continued she, gazing up at the ceiling, “that all -is over for the woman who has gone through this.” -</p> - -<p> -Octave had kept hold of her little warm hand which seemed to mould itself -to his, and he continued kissing it lightly, on the fingers. She turned -her eyes towards him, and gazed upon him with a vague and tender look; -then, in a maternal way, she uttered this single word: -</p> - -<p> -“Child!” -</p> - -<p> -Thinking himself encouraged, he wished to take her round the waist, and -draw her on to the sofa; but she freed herself without any violence, and -slipped from his arms, laughing, and with an air of thinking that he was -merely playing. -</p> - -<p> -“No, leave me alone, do not touch me, if you wish that we should remain -good friends.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then, no?” asked he in a low voice. -</p> - -<p> -“What, no? What do you mean? Oh! my hand, as much as you like!” -</p> - -<p> -He had again taken hold of her hand. But, this time, he opened it, kissing -it on the palm; and, her eyes half closed, treating the little game as a -joke, she opened her fingers like a cat spreads out its claws to be -tickled inside its paw. She did not let him go farther than the wrist. The -first day, a sacred line was drawn there, where harm began. -</p> - -<p> -“The priest is coming upstairs,” Louise suddenly entered and said, on -returning from some errand. -</p> - -<p> -The orphan had the yellow complexion, and the squashed features of girls -forgotten on doorsteps. She burst into an idiotic laugh on beholding the -gentleman eating, as she thought, out of her mistress’s hand. But at a -glance from the latter, she hastened away. -</p> - -<p> -“I greatly fear I shall never be able to do anything with her,” resumed -Madame Juzeur. “However, it is only right to try and put one of those poor -souls into the straight path. Come this way, if you please, Monsieur -Mouret.” -</p> - -<p> -She conducted him to the dining-room, so as to leave the drawing-room to -the priest, whom Louise ushered in. She invited Octave to come again and -have a chat. It would be a little company for her; she was always so sad -and so lonely! Happily, religion consoled her. -</p> - -<p> -That evening, towards five o’clock, Octave experienced a real relief in -making himself comfortable at the Pichons’ whilst waiting for dinner. The -house bewildered him somewhat; after having allowed himself to be -impressed with a provincial’s respect, in the face of the rich solemnity -of the staircase, he was gliding to an exaggerated contempt for what he -thought he could guess took place behind the high mahogany doors. He was -quite at sea; it seemed to him now that those middle-class women, whose -virtue had frozen him at first, should yield at a sign; and, when one of -them resisted, he was filled with surprise and rancour. -</p> - -<p> -Marie blushed with joy on seeing him place the pile of books which he had -fetched for her in the morning on the sideboard. She kept saying, “How -nice of you, Monsieur Octave! Oh! thank you, thank you! And how kind to -come early! Will you have a glass of sugar and water with some cognac? It -assists the appetite.” -</p> - -<p> -He accepted, just to please her. Everything appeared pleasant to him, even -Pichon and the Vuillaumes, who conversed round the table, slowly mumbling -over again their usual Sunday conversation. Marie, now and again, ran to -the kitchen, where she was cooking a boned shoulder of mutton; and he -dared in a chaffing way to follow her, seizing hold of her before the -stove, and kissing her on the nape of her neck. She, without a cry and -without a start, turned round and kissed him in her turn on the mouth, -with lips which were always cold. This coolness seemed delicious to the -young man. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, and your new Minister?” asked he of Pichon, on returning into the -room. -</p> - -<p> -But the clerk gave a start. Ah! there was going to be a new Minister of -Public Instruction! He knew nothing of it; no one ever troubled about that -at the Ministry. -</p> - -<p> -“The weather is so bad!” he abruptly remarked. “It is quite impossible to -keep one’s trousers clean!” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Vuillaume talked of a girl at Batignolles who had gone to the bad. -</p> - -<p> -“You will scarcely believe me, sir,” said she. “She had been exceedingly -well brought up; but she felt so bored at her parents’, that she had twice -tried to throw herself into the street. It is incredible!” -</p> - -<p> -“They should have put bars on the windows,” said Monsieur Vuillaume -simply. -</p> - -<p> -The dinner was delightful. This kind of conversation lasted all the time -around the modest board lighted by a little lamp. Pichon and Monsieur -Vuillaume, having got on to the staff of the Ministry, did nothing but -talk of head-clerks and second head-clerks; the father-in-law obstinately -alluded to those of his time, then recollected that they were dead; -whilst, on his side, the son-in-law continued to speak of the new ones, in -the midst of an inextricable confusion of names. The two men, however, as -well as Madame Vuillaume, agreed on one point: fat Chavignat, he who had -such an ugly wife, had gone in for a great deal too many children. It was -absurd for a man of his position. And Octave smiled, feeling happy and at -his ease; he had not spent such an agreeable evening for a long time; he -even ended by blaming Chavignat with conviction. Marie quieted him with -her clear, innocent look, devoid of emotion at seeing him seated beside -her husband, helping them both according to their tastes, with her rather -tired air of passive obedience. -</p> - -<p> -Punctually at ten o’clock, the Vuillaumes rose to take their departure. -Pichon put on his hat. Every Sunday he saw them to the omnibus. Out of -deference, he had got into the habit about the time of his marriage, and -the Vuillaumes would have been deeply offended had he now tried to give it -up. All three made for the Rue de Richelieu, then walked slowly up it, -searching with a glance the Batignolles omnibuses which kept passing full, -so that Pichon often went thus as far as Montmartre; for he would never -have thought of leaving his father and mother-in-law before seeing them -into an omnibus. As they could not walk fast, it took him close upon two -hours to go there and back. -</p> - -<p> -They exchanged some friendly handshakes on the landing. Octave, on -returning to the room with Marie, said quietly, “It rains; Jules will not -get back before midnight.” -</p> - -<p> -And, as Lilitte had been put to bed early, he at once took Marie on his -knees, and drank the rest of the coffee with her out of the same cup, like -a husband glad at having got rid of his guests and at finding himself -again in the quiet of his home, excited by a little family gathering, and -able to kiss his wife at his case, with the doors closed. A pleasant -warmth filled the narrow room, where some frosted eggs had left an odour -of vanilla. He was gently kissing the young woman under the chin, when -some one knocked. Marie did not even give a start of affright. It was -young Josserand, he who was a bit cracked. Whenever he could escape from -the apartment opposite, he would come in this way to chat with her, -attracted by her gentleness; and they both got on well together, remaining -ten minutes at a time without speaking, exchanging at distant intervals -phrases which had no connection with each other. Octave, very much put -out, remained silent. -</p> - -<p> -“They’ve some people there,” stuttered Saturnin. “I don’t care a hang for -their not letting me dine with them! So I took the lock off and bolted. It -serves them right.” -</p> - -<p> -“They will be anxious; you ought to go back,” said Marie, who noticed -Octave’s impatience. -</p> - -<p> -But the idiot laughed with delight. Then, with his embarrassed speech, he -related what took place in his home. He seemed to come each time for the -sake of thus relieving his memory. -</p> - -<p> -“Papa worked all night again. Mamma slapped Berthe. I say, when people get -married, does it hurt?” -</p> - -<p> -And, as Marie did not reply, becoming excited, he continued: “I won’t go -to the country; I won’t. If they only touch her, I’ll strangle them; it’s -easy to do in the night, when they’re asleep. The palm of her hand is as -soft as note-paper. But, you know, the other is a beast of a girl—” -</p> - -<p> -He recommenced, got more muddled still, and did not succeed in expressing -what he had come to say. Marie, at length, made him return to his parents, -without his even having noticed Octave’s presence. -</p> - -<p> -Then the latter, through fear of being again disturbed, wanted to take the -young woman into his own room. But she refused, her cheeks suddenly -becoming scarlet He, not understanding this bashfulness, said that they -would be sure to hear Jules coming up, and that she would have time to -slip into her room; and as he drew her along, she became quite angry, with -the indignation of a woman to whom violence is being offered. -</p> - -<p> -“No, not in your room, never! It would be too wrong. Let us remain here.” -</p> - -<p> -And she ran to the farthest end of her room. Octave was still on the -landing, surprised at this unexpected resistance, when the sounds of a -violent altercation ascended from the courtyard. Really, everything seemed -to be against him, he would have done better to have gone off to bed. Such -an uproar was so unusual at that late hour, that he ended by opening a -window, to hear what was going on. Monsieur Gourd, down below, was -shouting out: -</p> - -<p> -“I tell you, you shall not pass! The landlord has been sent for. He will -come and turn you out himself.” -</p> - -<p> -“What! turn me out!” replied a thick voice. “Don’t I pay my rent? Pass, -Amélie, and if the gentleman touches you, we’ll have something to laugh -at!” -</p> - -<p> -It was the workman from upstairs, who had returned with the woman sent -away in the morning. Octave leant out; but, in the black hole of the -courtyard, he could only distinguish some big moving shadows in a ray of -gaslight from the vestibule. -</p> - -<p> -“Monsieur Vabre! Monsieur Vabre!” called the doorkeeper in urgent tones, -as the carpenter shoved him aside. “Quick, quick, she is coming in!” -</p> - -<p> -In spite of her poor legs, Madame Gourd had gone to fetch the landlord, -who was just then at work on his great task. He was coming down. Octave -could hear him furiously repeating: -</p> - -<p> -“It is scandalous! it is disgraceful! I will never allow such a thing in -my house!” -</p> - -<p> -And, addressing the workman, whom his presence seemed at first to -intimidate: -</p> - -<p> -“Send that woman away, at once, at once. You hear me! we will have no -women brought to the house.” -</p> - -<p> -“But she’s my wife!” replied the workman in a scared way. -</p> - -<p> -“She is out at service, she comes once a month, when her people allow her -to. What a fuss! It isn’t you who’ll prevent me sleeping with my wife, I -suppose!” -</p> - -<p> -At these words, the doorkeeper and the landlord quite lost their heads. -</p> - -<p> -“I give you notice to quit,” stuttered Monsieur Vabre. “And, in the -meantime, I forbid you to take my premises for what they are not. Gourd, -turn that creature out on to the pavement. Yes, sir, I don’t like bad -jokes. When a person is married, he should say so. Hold your tongue, do -not give me any more of your rudeness!” -</p> - -<p> -The carpenter, who was a jolly fellow, and who had no doubt had a drop too -much wine, ended by bursting out laughing. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s damned funny all the same. However, as the gentleman objects, you’d -better return home, Amélie. We’ll wait till some other time. By Jove! I -accept your notice with pleasure! I wouldn’t stop in such a hole on any -account! There are some pretty goings-on in it, one comes across some rare -filth. You won’t have women brought here, but you tolerate, on every -floor, well-dressed strumpets who lead fine lives behind the doors! You -set of muffs! you swells!” -</p> - -<p> -Amélie had gone off so as not to cause her old man any more annoyance; and -he, jolly, and without anger, continued his chaff. During this time, -Monsieur Gourd protected Monsieur Vabre’s retreat, permitting himself to -make a few remarks out loud. What a dirty set the lower classes were! One -workman in a house was sufficient to pollute it. -</p> - -<p> -Octave closed the window. But, just as he was returning to Marie, an -individual who was lightly gliding along the passage, knocked up against -him. -</p> - -<p> -“What! it’s you again!” said he recognising Trublot. -</p> - -<p> -The latter remained a second taken aback. Then, he wished to explain his -presence. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, it is I. I dined at the Josserands’, and I’m going—” -</p> - -<p> -Octave felt disgusted. -</p> - -<p> -“What, with that slut Adèle? You declared it was not so.” -</p> - -<p> -Then, Trublot assumed all his swagger, saying with an air of intense -satisfaction: -</p> - -<p> -“I assure you, my dear fellow, it’s awfully fine. She has such a skin, -you’ve no idea what a skin!” -</p> - -<p> -Then he railed against the workman, who had almost been the cause of his -being caught on the servants’ staircase, and all his dirty fuss about -women. He had been obliged to come round by the grand staircase. And, as -he made off, he added: -</p> - -<p> -“Remember, it is next Thursday that I am going to take you to see -Duveyrier’s mistress. We will dine together.” -</p> - -<p> -The house resumed it’s peacefulness, lapsing into that religious silence -which seemed to issue from its chaste alcoves. Octave had rejoined Marie -in the inner chamber at the side of the conjugal couch, where she was -arranging the pillows. Upstairs, the chair being littered with the -washhand basin and an old pair of shoes, Trublot sat down on Adèle’s -narrow bed, and waited in his dress clothes and his white tie. When he -recognised Julie’s step as she came up to bed, he held his breath, having -a constant dread of women’s quarrels. At length Adèle appeared. She was in -a temper, and went for him at once. -</p> - -<p> -“I say, you! you might treat me a bit better, when I wait at table!” -</p> - -<p> -“How, treat you better?” -</p> - -<p> -“Why of course you don’t even look at me, you never say if you please, -when you ask for bread. For instance, this evening when I handed round the -veal, you had a way of disowning me. I’ve had enough of it, look you! All -the house badgers me with its nonsense. It’s too much, if you’re going to -join the others!” -</p> - -<p> -Whilst this was taking place, the workman in the next room, not yet -sobered, talked to himself in so loud a voice that every one on that -landing could hear him. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! it’s funny all the same, that a fellow can’t sleep with his wife! -No woman allowed in the house, you fussy old idiot! Just go now and poke -your nose into all the rooms, and see what you’ll see?” -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> -CHAPTER VII. -</h2> - -<p class="pfirst"> -<span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>or a fortnight -past, with the view of getting uncle Bachelard to give Berthe a dowry, the -Josserands had been inviting him to dinner almost every evening, in spite -of his offensive habits. -</p> - -<p> -When the marriage was announced to him, he had contented himself with -giving his niece a gentle pat on the cheek, saying: -</p> - -<p> -“What! you are going to get married! Ah! that’s very nice, little girl!” -</p> - -<p> -And he remained deaf to all allusions, exaggerating his air of a silly old -boozer who got drunk on liquors, the moment money was mentioned before -him. -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand had the idea to invite him one evening together with -Auguste, the bridegroom elect. Perhaps the sight of the young man would -decide him. The step was heroical, for the family did not like exhibiting -the uncle, always fearing that he would give people a bad impression of -them. He had, however, behaved pretty well; his waistcoat alone had a big -syrup stain, which it had obtained no doubt in some café. But when his -sister questioned him, after Auguste had taken his departure, and asked -him what he thought of the young fellow, he answered without involving -himself: -</p> - -<p> -“Charming, charming.” -</p> - -<p> -This would never do. It was a pressing matter. Therefore, Madame Josserand -determined to plainly place the position of affairs before him. -</p> - -<p> -“As we are by ourselves,” resumed she, “we may as well take advantage of -it. Leave us, my darlings; we want to have some talk with your uncle. You, -Berthe, just look after Saturnin, and see that he does not take the lock -off the door again.” -</p> - -<p> -Saturnin, ever since they had been busy about his sister’s marriage, -hiding everything from him, had taken to wandering about the rooms, an -anxious look in his eyes, and scenting that there was something up; and he -imagined most diabolical things which gave the family awful frights. -</p> - -<p> -“I have obtained every information,” said the mother, when she had shut -herself in with the father and the uncle. “This is the position of the -Vabres.” -</p> - -<p> -And she went into long details of figures. Old Vabre had brought half a -million with him from Versailles. If the house had cost him three hundred -thousand francs, he had two hundred thousand left, which, during the -twelve years that had past had been producing interest. Moreover, he -received each year twenty-two thousand francs in rent; and, as he lived -with the Duveyriers, scarcely spending anything at all, he must -consequently be altogether worth five or six hundred thousand francs, -besides the house. Thus, there were some very handsome expectations on -that side. -</p> - -<p> -“Has he no vices, then?” asked uncle Bachelard. “I thought he speculated -at the Bourse.” -</p> - -<p> -But Madame Josserand cried out. Such a quiet old gentleman, and occupied -on a such a great task! That one, at least, had shown himself capable of -putting a fortune by; and she smiled bitterly as she looked at her -husband, who bowed his head. -</p> - -<p> -As for Monsieur Vabre’s three children, Auguste, Clotilde and Théophile, -they had each had a hundred thousand francs on their mother’s death. -Théophile, after some ruinous enterprises, was living as best he could on -the crumbs of this inheritance. Clotilde, with no other passion than her -piano, had probably invested her share. And Auguste had purchased the -business on the ground floor and gone in for the silk trade with his -hundred thousand francs, which he had long kept in reserve. -</p> - -<p> -“And the old fellow naturally gives nothing to his children when they -marry,” observed the uncle. -</p> - -<p> -Well! he did not much like giving, that was a fact which was unfortunately -indisputable. -</p> - -<p> -“Well!” declared Bachelard, “it is always hard on the parents. Dowries are -never really paid.” -</p> - -<p> -“Let us return to Auguste,” continued Madame Josserand. “I have told you -his expectations, and the only danger comes from the Duveyriers, whom -Berthe will do well to watch very closely, if she enters the family. At -the present moment, Auguste, after purchasing the business for sixty -thousand francs, has started with the other forty thousand. Only, the sum -is not sufficient; besides which, he is single, and requires a wife; that -is why he wishes to marry. Berthe is pretty, he already sees her in his -counting-house; and as for the dowry, fifty thousand francs are a -respectable sum which has decided him.” -</p> - -<p> -Uncle Bachelard did not so much as blink his eyes. He ended by saying, in -a tender-hearted way, that he had dreamed of something better. And he -commenced to pick the future husband to pieces: a charming fellow, -certainly; but too old, a great deal too old, thirty-three years and over; -besides which, always ill, his face distorted by neuralgia; in short, a -sorry object, not near lively enough for trade. -</p> - -<p> -“Have you another?” asked Madame Josserand, whose patience was wearing -out. “I searched all Paris before finding him.” -</p> - -<p> -However, she did not deceive herself much. She too picked him to pieces. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! he is not a phoenix, in fact I think him a bit of a fool. Besides -which, I mistrust those men who have never had any youth and who do not -risk a stride in life without thinking about it for years beforehand. On -leaving college, where his headaches prevented him completing his studies, -he remained for fifteen years a mere clerk before daring to touch his -hundred thousand francs, the interest of which, it seems, his father was -cheating him out of all the time. No, no, he is not up to much.” -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Josserand, who until then had kept silent, ventured an -observation. -</p> - -<p> -“But, my dear, why insist so obstinately on this marriage? If the young -man’s health is so bad——” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! it is not bad health that need prevent it,” interrupted Bachelard. -“Berthe would find no difficulty in marrying again.” -</p> - -<p> -“However, if he is incapable,” resumed the father, “if he is likely to -make our daughter unhappy——” -</p> - -<p> -“Unhappy!” cried Madame Josserand. “Say at once that I throw my child at -the head of the first-comer! We are among ourselves, we discuss him: he is -this, he is that, not young, not handsome, not intelligent. We just talk -the matter over, do we not? it is but natural. Only, he is very well, we -shall never find a better; and, shall I tell you? it is a most unexpected -match for Berthe. I was about to give up all hope, on my word of honor!” -She rose to her feet. Monsieur Josserand, reduced to silence, pushed back -his chair. -</p> - -<p> -“I have only one fear,” continued she, making a resolute stand before her -brother, “and that is that he may break it off if he is not paid the dowry -on the day the contract is to be signed. It is easy to understand, he is -in want of money——” -</p> - -<p> -But at this moment a hot breathing, which she heard behind her, caused her -to turn round. Saturnin was there, passing his head round the partly -opened door, his eyes glaring like a wolf’s as he listened to what was -being said. And it created quite a panic, for he had stolen a spit from -the kitchen, to spit the geese, said he. Uncle Bachelard, feeling very -uneasy at the turn the conversation was taking, availed himself of the -general alarm. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t disturb yourselves,” cried he, from the ante-room. “I’m off, I’ve -an appointment at midnight, with one of my customers, who’s come specially -from Brazil.” -</p> - -<p> -When they had succeeded in getting Saturnin to bed, Madame Josserand, -exasperated, declared that it was impossible to keep him any longer. He -would end by doing some one an injury, if he was not shut up in a -madhouse. Life was unbearable with him always to be kept in hiding. His -sisters would never get married, so long as he was there to disgust and -frighten people. -</p> - -<p> -“Wait a bit longer,” murmured Monsieur Josserand, whose heart bled at the -thought of this separation. -</p> - -<p> -“No, no!” declared the mother, “I do not want him to spit me in the end! I -had brought my brother to the point, I was about to get him to do -something. Never mind! we will go with Berthe to-morrow to his own place, -and we will see if he will have the cheek to escape from his promises. -Besides, Berthe owes her godfather a visit. It is only proper.” -</p> - -<p> -On the morrow, all three, the mother, the father, and the daughter, paid -an official visit to the uncle’s warehouses, which occupied the basement -and the ground floor of an enormous house in the Rue d’Enghien. -</p> - -<p> -“Hallo! you here!” said he, greatly annoyed. -</p> - -<p> -And he received them in a little closet, from which he watched his men -through a window. -</p> - -<p> -“I have brought Berthe to see you,” explained Madame Josserand. “She knows -what she owes you.” -</p> - -<p> -Then, when the young girl, after kissing her uncle, had, on a glance from -her mother, returned to look at the goods in the courtyard, the latter -resolutely broached the subject. -</p> - -<p> -“Listen, Narcisse; this is how we are situated. Counting on your kindness -of heart and on your promises, I have engaged to give a dowry of fifty -thousand francs. If I do not give it, the marriage will be broken off. It -would be a disgrace, things having gone as far as they have. You cannot -leave us in such an embarrassing position.” -</p> - -<p> -But a vacant look had come into Bachelard’s eyes, and he stuttered, as -though very drunk: -</p> - -<p> -“Eh? what? you’ve promised. You should never promise; it’s a bad thing to -promise.” -</p> - -<p> -He pleaded poverty. For instance, he had bought a whole stock of -horsehair, thinking that the price of horsehair would go up; but not at -all; the price had fallen lower still, and he had been obliged to dispatch -them at a loss. And he pounced on his books, opened his ledgers, and -insisted on showing the invoices, it was ruination. -</p> - -<p> -“Nonsense!” Monsieur Josserand ended by saying, completely out of -patience. “I know your business; you make no end of money, and you would -be rolling in wealth if you did not squander it in the way you do. I ask -you for nothing myself. It was Eléonore who persisted in applying to you. -But allow me to tell you, Bachelard, that you have been fooling us. Every -Saturday for fifteen years past, when I come to look over your books for -you, you are forever promising me——” -</p> - -<p> -The uncle interrupted him, and violently slapped himself on the chest. -</p> - -<p> -“I promise? impossible! No, no; let me alone, you’ll see. I don’t like -being asked, it annoys me—it makes me ill. You’ll see one day.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand herself could get nothing further out of him. He shook -their hands, wiped away a tear, talked of his soul and of his love for the -family, imploring them not to worry him any more, and swearing before -heaven that they would never repent it. He knew his duty; he would perform -it to the uttermost. Later on, Berthe would know how her uncle loved her. -</p> - -<p> -“And what about the dotal insurance,” asked he, in his natural tone of -voice, “the fifty thousand francs you had insured the little one for?” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand shrugged her shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -“It has been dead and buried for fourteen years past. You have been told -twenty times already that when the fourth premium fell due, we were unable -to pay the two thousand francs.” -</p> - -<p> -“That doesn’t matter,” murmured he, with a wink, “the thing is to talk of -this insurance to the family, and then get time for paying the dowry. One -never pays a dowry.” -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Josserand rose indignantly. -</p> - -<p> -“What! that is all you can find to say?” -</p> - -<p> -But the uncle mistook his meaning, and went on to show that it was quite a -usual thing. -</p> - -<p> -“Never, I tell you I One gives something on account, and then merely pays -the interest. Look at Monsieur Vabre himself. Did our father ever pay you -Eléonore’s dowry? why, no, of course not. Every one sticks to his money; -its only natural!” -</p> - -<p> -“In short, you advise me to commit a most abominable action!” cried -Monsieur Josserand. “I should lie; it would be a forgery to produce the -policy of that insurance——” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand stopped him. The idea suggested by her brother had -rendered her grave. She was surprised she had not thought of it herself. -</p> - -<p> -“Dear me! how excited you become, my dear. Narcisse has not told you to -forge anything.” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course not,” murmured the uncle. “There is no occasion to show any -documents.” -</p> - -<p> -“It is simply a question of gaining time,” continued she. “Promise the -dowry, we shall always manage to give it later on.” -</p> - -<p> -Then the worthy man’s conscience spoke out. No! he refused; he would not -again venture on such a precipice. They were always taking advantage of -his complacency, to get him to agree little by little to things which -afterward made him ill, so deeply did they wound his feelings. As he had -no dowry to give, he could not promise one. -</p> - -<p> -Bachelard was strumming on the little window with his fingers, and -whistling a march, as though to show his great contempt for such scruples. -Madame Josserand had listened to her husband, her face all pale with an -anger which had been slowly rousing, and which suddenly exploded. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! sir, as this is how you look at it, this marriage shall take place. -It was my daughter’s last chance. I will cut my hand off sooner than she -will lose it. So much the worse for the others! One becomes capable of -anything at last.” -</p> - -<p> -“So, madame, you would commit murder to get your daughter married?” -</p> - -<p> -She rose to her full height. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes!” said she furiously. -</p> - -<p> -Then she smiled. The uncle had to quell the storm. What was the use of -wrangling? It was far better to agree together. And, still trembling from -the quarrel, bewildered and worn out, Monsieur Josserand ended by -promising to talk the matter over with Duveyrier, on whom everything -depended, according to Madame Josserand. Only to get hold of the counselor -when he was in good humor, the uncle offered to put his brother-in-law in -the way of meeting him at a house where he could refuse nothing. -</p> - -<p> -“It is merely to be an interview,” declared Monsieur Josserand, still -struggling. “I swear that I will not enter into any engagements.” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course, of course,” said Bachelard. “Eléonore does not wish you to do -anything dishonorable.” -</p> - -<p> -Berthe just then returned. She had seen some boxes of preserved fruits, -and, after some lively caresses, she tried to get one given her. But the -uncle’s speech again became thick; impossible, they were counted, and had -to leave that very evening for Saint-Petersburg. He slowly got them in the -direction of the street, whilst his sister lingered before the activity of -the vast warehouses, full to the rafters with every imaginable commodity, -suffering from the sight of that fortune made by a man without any -principles, and bitterly comparing it with her husband’s incapable -honesty. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! to-morrow night, then, toward nine o’clock, at the Café de -Mulhouse,” said Bachelard outside, as he shook Monsieur Josserand’s hand. -</p> - -<p> -It so happened that, on the morrow, Octave and Trublot, who had dined -together before going to see Clarisse, Duveyrier’s mistress, entered the -Café de Mulhouse, so as not to call too early, although she lived in the -Rue de la Cerisaie, which was some distance off. It was scarcely eight -o’clock. As they entered, the sound of a violent quarrel attracted them to -a rather out-of-the-way room at the end. And there they beheld Bachelard -already drunk, enormous in size, and his cheeks flaring red, having an -altercation with a little gentleman, pale and quarrelsome. -</p> - -<p> -“You have again spat in my beer!” roared he in his voice of thunder. “I’ll -not stand it, sir!” -</p> - -<p> -“Go to blazes, do you hear? or I’ll give you a thrashing!” said the little -man, standing on the tips of his toes. -</p> - -<p> -Then Bachelard raised his voice very provokingly, without drawing back an -inch. -</p> - -<p> -“If you think proper, sir! As you please!” -</p> - -<p> -And the other having with a blow knocked in his hat, which he always wore -swaggeringly on the side of his head, even in the cafés, he repeated more -energetically still: -</p> - -<p> -“As you please, sir! If you think proper!” -</p> - -<p> -Then, after picking up his hat, he sat himself down with a superb air, and -called to the waiter: -</p> - -<p> -“Alfred, change my beer!” -</p> - -<p> -Octave and Trublot, greatly astonished, had caught sight of Gueulin seated -at the uncle’s table, his back against the wall, smoking with a -tranquillity amounting to indifference. As they questioned him on the -cause of the quarrel. -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know,” replied he, watching the smoke ascend from his cigar. -“Always a lot of rot! Oh! a mania for getting his head punched! He never -retreats.” -</p> - -<p> -Bachelard shook hands with the new-comers. He adored young people. When he -heard that that they were going to call on Clarisse, he was delighted, for -he himself was going there with Gueulin; only he had to wait for his -brother-in-law, Josserand, whom he had an appointment with. And he filled -the little room with the sounds of his voice, covering the table with -every drink imaginable for the benefit of his young friends, with the -insane prodigality of a man who does not care what he spends when out on -pleasure. Illformed, with his teeth too new and his nose in a blaze -beneath his short, snow-white hair, he talked familiarly to the waiters -and thoroughly tired them out, and made himself unbearable to his -neighbors to such a point that the landlord came twice to beg him to -leave, if he could not keep quiet. The night before, he had been turned -out of the Café de Madrid. -</p> - -<p> -But a girl having put in an appearance, and then gone away, after walking -round the room with a wearied air, Octave began to talk of women. This set -Bachelard off again. Women had cost him too much money; he flattered -himself that he had had the best in Paris. In his business, one never -bargained about such things; just to show that one had something to fall -back upon. Now he was giving all that up, he wished to be loved. And, in -presence of this bawler chucking bank notes about, Octave thought with -surprise of the uncle who exaggerated his stuttering drunkenness to escape -the family extortions. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t boast, uncle,” said Gueulin. “One can always have more women than -one wants.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then, you silly fool, why do you never have any?” asked Bachelard. -</p> - -<p> -Gueulin contemptuously shrugged his shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -“Why? Listen! Only yesterday I dined with a friend and his mistress. The -mistress at once began to kick me under the table. It was an opportunity, -wasn’t it? Well! when she asked me to see her home, I made off, and I -haven’t been near her since. Oh! I don’t deny that, for the time being, it -might have been very agreeable. But afterward, afterward, uncle! Perhaps -one of those women a fellow can never get rid of. I’m not such a fool!” -</p> - -<p> -Trublot nodded his head approvingly, for he also had renounced women of -society, through a dread of the troublesome morrows. And Gueulin, coming -out of his shell, continued to give examples. One day in the train, a -superb brunette, whom he did not know, had fallen asleep on his shoulder; -but he had thought twice, what would he have done with her on arriving at -the station? Another day, after a wedding, he had found a neighbor’s wife -in his room, eh? that was rather cool; and he would have made a fool of -himself had it not been for the idea that afterward she would have wanted -him to keep her in boots. -</p> - -<p> -“Opportunities, uncle!” said he, coming to an end, “no one has such -opportunities as I! But I keep myself in check. Every one, moreover, does -the same; one is afraid of what may follow. Were it not for that, it -would, of course, be very pleasant! Good morning! good evening! one would -see nothing else in the streets.” -</p> - -<p> -Bachelard, becoming wrapped in thought, was no longer listening to him. -His bluster had calmed down, his eyes were wet. -</p> - -<p> -“If you are very good,” said he suddenly, “I will show you something.” -</p> - -<p> -And, after paying, he led them out. Octave reminded him of old Josserand. -That did not matter, they would come back for him. -</p> - -<p> -Then, after leaving the room, the uncle, casting a furious glance around, -stole the sugar left by a customer on a neighboring table. -</p> - -<p> -“Follow me,” said he, when he was outside. “It’s close by.” -</p> - -<p> -He walked along, grave and thoughtful, without uttering a word. He drew up -before a door in the Rue Saint-Marc. The three young men were about to -follow him, when he appeared to give way to a sudden hesitation. -</p> - -<p> -“No, let us go off, I won’t.” -</p> - -<p> -But they cried out at this. Was he trying to make fools of them? -</p> - -<p> -“Well! Gueulin mustn’t come up, nor you either, Monsieur Trublot. You’re -not nice enough, you respect nothing, you’d joke. Come, Monsieur Octave, -you’re a serious sort of fellow.” -</p> - -<p> -He made Octave walk up before him, whilst the other two laughed, and -called to him from the pavement to give their compliments to the ladies. -On reaching the fourth floor, he knocked, and an old woman opened the -door. -</p> - -<p> -“What! it’s you, Monsieur Narcisse? Fifi did not expect you this evening,” -said she, with a smile. -</p> - -<p> -She was fat, with the calm, white face of a nun. In the narrow dining-room -into which she ushered them, a tall, fair young girl, pretty and simple -looking, was embroidering an altar cloth. -</p> - -<p> -“Good day, uncle,” said she, rising to offer her forehead to Bachelard’s -thick, trembling lips. -</p> - -<p> -When the latter had introduced Monsieur Octave Mouret, a distinguished -young man whom he counted amongst his friends, the two women curtesied in -an old-fashioned way, and then they all seated themselves round the table, -lighted by a petroleum lamp. It was like a quiet country home, two -regulated existences, out of sight of all, and living upon next to -nothing. As the room overlooked an inner courtyard, one could not even -hear the sound of the passing vehicles. -</p> - -<p> -Whilst Bachelard paternally questioned the child on her feelings and her -occupations since the night before, the aunt, Mademoiselle Menu, at once -began to tell Octave their history, with the familiarity of a worthy woman -who thinks she has nothing to hide. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, sir, I came from Villeneuve, near Lille. I am well known to -Messieurs Mardienne Frères, in the Rue Saint-Sulpice, where I worked as an -embroiderer for thirty years. Then, a cousin having left me a house in our -part of the country, I was lucky enough to let it as a life interest at a -thousand francs a year, sir, to people who thought they would bury me on -the morrow, and who are nicely punished for their wicked idea, for I am -still alive, in spite of my seventy-five years.” -</p> - -<p> -She laughed, displaying teeth as white as a young girl’s. -</p> - -<p> -“I was doing nothing, my eyes being quite worn put,” continued she, “when -my niece, Fanny, came to me. Her father, Captain Menu, had died without -leaving a sou, and no other relation, sir. So, I at once took the child -away from her school, and made an embroiderer out of her—a very -unprofitable craft; but what could be done? whether that, or something -else, women always have to starve. Fortunately, she met Monsieur Narcisse. -Now, I can die happy.” -</p> - -<p> -And, her hands clasped on her stomach, in her inaction of an old workwoman -who has sworn never again to touch a needle, she looked tenderly at -Bachelard and Fifi with tearful eyes. The old man was just then saying to -the child: -</p> - -<p> -“Really, you thought of me! And what did you think?” -</p> - -<p> -Fifi raised her limpid eyes, without ceasing to draw her golden thread. -</p> - -<p> -“Why, that you were a good friend, and that I loved you very much.” -</p> - -<p> -She had scarcely looked at Octave, as though indifferent to the youth of -so handsome a fellow. Yet he smiled on her, surprised, and moved by her -gracefulness, not knowing what to think; whilst the aunt, who had grown -old in a celibacy and a chastity which had cost her nothing, continued, -lowering her voice: -</p> - -<p> -“I might have married her, might I not? A workman would have beaten her, a -clerk would have given her no end of children. It is better far that she -should behave well with Monsieur Narcisse, who looks a very worthy man.” -</p> - -<p> -And, raising her voice: -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! Monsieur Narcisse, it will not have been my fault if she does not -please you. I am always telling her: do all you can to please him, show -yourself grateful. It is but natural, I am so thankful to know that she is -at last provided for. It is so difficult to get a young girl settled in -life, when one has no friends!” -</p> - -<p> -Then Octave abandoned himself to the happy simplicity of this home. In the -still atmosphere of the room floated an odor of fruit. Fifi’s needle, as -it pierced the silk, alone made a slight monotonous noise, like the -ticking of a little clock, which might have regulated the placidity of the -uncle’s amours. Moreover, the old maid was honesty itself; she lived on -the thousand francs of her income, never touching Fifi’s money, which the -latter spent as she chose. Her scruples yielded only to white wine and -chestnuts, which her niece occasionally treated her to, after opening the -money box in which she collected four sou pieces, given as medals by her -good friend. -</p> - -<p> -“My little duck,” at length said Bachelard, rising, “we have business to -attend to. Good-bye till to-morrow. Now, mind you are very good.” -</p> - -<p> -He kissed her on the forehead. Then, after looking at her with emotion, he -said to Octave: -</p> - -<p> -“You may kiss her too, she is a mere child.” -</p> - -<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> -<img src="images/0165.jpg" alt="0165 " width="100%" /> -</div> - -<p> -The young man pressed his lips to her fair skin. She smiled, she was very -modest; however, it was merely like a family gathering, he had never seen -such sober-minded people. The uncle was going off, when he re-entered the -room, exclaiming: -</p> - -<p> -“I was forgetting, I’ve a little present.” -</p> - -<p> -And, turning out his pocket, he gave Fifi the sugar which he had just -stolen at the café. She thanked him very heartily, and, as she crunched up -a piece, she became quite red with pleasure. Then, becoming bolder, she -asked: -</p> - -<p> -“Do you not happen to have some four sou pieces?” -</p> - -<p> -Bachelard searched his pockets without result. Octave had one, which the -young girl accepted as a memorial. She did not accompany them to the door, -no doubt out of propriety; and they heard her drawing her needle, having -at once resumed her altar cloth, whilst Mademoiselle Menu saw them to the -landing, with her good old woman’s amiability. -</p> - -<p> -“Eh? it’s worth seeing,” said uncle Bachelard, stopping on the stairs. -“You know, it doesn’t cost me five louis a month. I’ve had enough of the -hussies who almost devoured me. On my word! what I required was a heart.” -</p> - -<p> -But, as Octave laughed, he became mistrustful. -</p> - -<p> -“You’re a decent fellow; you won’t take advantage of what I have shown -you. Not a word to Gueulin, you swear it on your honor? I am waiting till -he is worthy of her to show her to him. An angel, my dear fellow! No -matter what is said, virtue is good: it refreshes one. I have always gone -in for the ideal.” -</p> - -<p> -His old drunkard’s voice trembled; tears swelled his heavy eyelids. Down -below, Trublot chaffed, pretending to take the number of the house, whilst -Gueulin shrugged his shoulders, asking Octave, who was astounded, what he -thought of the little thing. Whenever the uncle’s feelings had been -softened by a booze, he could not resist taking people to see these -ladies, divided between the vanity of showing his treasure and the fear of -having it stolen from him; then, on the morrow, he forgot all about it, -and returned to the Rue-Saint-Marc with an air of mystery. -</p> - -<p> -“Everyone knows Fifi,” said Gueulin, quietly. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, Bachelard was looking out for a cab, when Octave exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -“And Monsieur Josserand, who is waiting at the café?” -</p> - -<p> -The others had forgotten him entirely. Monsieur Josserand, very annoyed at -wasting his evening, was impatiently waiting at the entrance, for he never -took anything but of doors. At length they started for the Rue de la -Cerisaie. But they had to take two cabs; the commission agent and the -cashier in the one, and the three young men in the other. -</p> - -<p> -Gueulin, his voice drowned by the jingling noise of the old vehicle, at -first talked of the insurance company where he was employed. Insurance -companies and stockbrokers were equally unpleasant, affirmed Trublot. Then -the conversation turned to Duveyrier. Was it not unfortunate that a rich -man, a magistrate, should let himself be fooled by women in that way? He -always wanted them in out-of-the-way neighborhoods, right at the end of -the omnibus routes; modest little ladies in their own apartments, playing -the parts of widows; unknown milliners, having shops and no customers; -girls picked out of the gutter, clothed and shut up, as though in a -convent, whom he would go to see regularly once a week, like a clerk -trudging to his office. -</p> - -<p> -Trublot, however, found excuses for him: to begin with, it was the fault -of his constitution; then, it was impossible to put up with a confounded -wife like his. On the very first night, so it was said, she could not bear -him, affecting to be disgusted at his red blotches, so that she willingly -allowed him to have mistresses, whose complacencies relieved her of him, -though at times she accepted the abominable burden, with the resignation -of a virtuous woman who makes a point of accomplishing all her duties. -</p> - -<p> -“Then, she is virtuous, is she?” asked Octave, interested. -</p> - -<p> -“Virtuous? Oh! yes, my dear fellow! Every good quality; pretty, serious, -well brought up, learned, full of taste, chaste, and unbearable!” -</p> - -<p> -A block of vehicles at the bottom of the Rue Montmartre stopped the cab. -The young men, who had let down the windows, could hear Bachelard’s voice, -furiously abusing the coachman. Then, when the cab moved on again, Gueulin -gave some information about Clarisse. Her name was Clarisse Bocquet, and -she was the daughter of a former toy merchant in a small way, who now -attended all the fairs with his wife and quite a troop of dirty children. -Duveyrier had come across her one night when it was thawing, just as her -lover had chucked her out. No doubt, this strapping wench answered to an -ideal long sought after; for as early as the morrow he was hooked; he wept -as he kissed her eyelids, all shaken by his need to cultivate the little -blue flower of romance in his huge masculine appetites. Clarisse had -consented to live in the Rue de la Cerisaie, so as not to expose him; but -she led him a fine dance—had made him buy her twenty-five thousand -francs’ worth of furniture, and was devouring him heartily, in company -with some actors of the Montmartre Theater. -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t care a hang!” said Trublot, “so long as one amuses oneself at her -place. Anyhow, she doesn’t make you sing, and she isn’t forever strumming -away on a piano like the other. Oh! that piano! Listen, when one is -deafened at home, when one has had the misfortune to marry a mechanical -piano which frightens everybody away, one would be precious stupid not to -arrange a pleasant little nest elsewhere, where one could receive one’s -friends in their slippers.” -</p> - -<p> -“Last Sunday,” related Gueulin, “Clarisse wanted me to lunch alone with -her. I declined. After those sort of lunches, one always does something -foolish; and I was afraid of seeing her take up her quarters with me the -day she left Duveyrier for good. You know, she detests him. Oh! her -disgust almost makes her ill. Well, the girl doesn’t care much for pimples -either. But she hasn’t the resource of sending him elsewhere like his wife -has; otherwise, if she could pass him over to her maid, I assure you she’d -get rid of the job precious quick.” -</p> - -<p> -The cab stopped. They alighted before a dark and silent house in the Rue -de la Cerisaie. But they had to wait for the other cab fully ten minutes, -Bachelard having taken his driver with him to drink a grog after the -quarrel in the Rue Montmartre. On the staircase, as severe-looking as -those of the middle classes, Monsieur Josserand again asked some questions -respecting Duveyrier’s lady friend, but the uncle merely answered: -</p> - -<p> -“A woman of the world, a very decent girl. She won’t eat you.” -</p> - -<p> -It was a little maid, with a rosy complexion, who opened the door to them. -She took the gentlemen’s coats with familiar and and tender smiles. For a -moment, Trublot kept her in a corner of the ante-room, whispering things -in her ear which almost made her choke, as though being tickled. But -Bachelard had pushed open the drawing-room door, and he at once introduced -Monsieur Josserand. The latter stood for a moment embarrassed, finding -Clarisse ugly, and not understanding how the counselor could prefer this -sort of creature—black and skinny, and with a head of hair like a -poodle—to his wife, one of the most beautiful women of society. -Clarisse, however, was charming. She had preserved the Parisian cackle, a -superficial and borrowed wit, an itch of drollery caught by rubbing up -against men, but was able to put on a grand lady sort of air when she -chose. -</p> - -<p> -“Sir, I am charmed. All Alphonse’s friends are mine. Now you are one of -us, the house is yours.” -</p> - -<p> -Duveyrier, warned by a note from Bachelard, also greeted Monsieur -Josserand very amiably. Octave was surprised at the counselor’s youthful -appearance. He was no longer the severe and ill-at-ease individual, who -never seemed to be in his own home in the drawing-room of the Rue de -Choiseul. The deep red blotches on his face were turning to a rosy hue, -his oblique eyes shone with a childish delight, whilst Clarisse related in -the midst of a group how he sometimes hastened to come and see her during -a short adjournment of the court—just time to jump into a cab, to -kiss her, and start back again. Then he complained of being overworked. -Four sittings a week, from eleven to five; always the same skein of -bickerings to unravel, it ended by destroying all feeling in one’s heart. -</p> - -<p> -“It is true,” said he, laughing, “one requires a few roses amongst all -that. I feel better afterward.” -</p> - -<p> -However, he did not wear his bit of red ribbon, but always took it off -when visiting his mistress; a last scruple, a delicate distinction, which -his sense of decency obstinately persisted in. Clarisse, without wishing -to say so, felt very much hurt at it. -</p> - -<p> -Octave, who had at once shook hands with the young woman like a comrade, -listened and looked about him. Clarisse never received other women, out of -decency, she said. When her acquaintances complained that her drawing-room -was in want of a few ladies, she would answer with a laugh: -</p> - -<p> -“Well! and I—am I not enough?” -</p> - -<p> -She had arranged a decent home for Alphonse, very middle-class in the -main, having a mania for what was proper all through the ups and downs of -her existence. When she received she would not be addressed familiarly. -</p> - -<p> -The little maid handed round some glasses of punch, with her agreeable -air. Octave took one, and, leaning toward his friend, whispered in his -ear: -</p> - -<p> -“The servant is better than the mistress.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why, of course! always!” said Trublot, with a shrug of the shoulders, -full of a disdainful conviction. -</p> - -<p> -Clarisse came and talked with them for a moment. She multiplied herself, -going from one to another, casting a word here, a laugh or gesture there. -As each new-comer lighted a cigar the drawing-room was soon full of smoke. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! the horrid men!” exclaimed she, prettily, as she went and opened a -window. -</p> - -<p> -Without losing any time, Bachelard made Monsieur Josserand comfortable in -the recess of this window, to enable him to breathe, said he. Then, thanks -to a masterly maneuver, he brought Duveyrier to an anchor there also, and -quickly broached the affair. So the two families were about to be united -by a close tie; he felt highly honored. Then he inquired what day the -marriage contract was going to be signed, and that led him up to the -matter in hand. -</p> - -<p> -“We intended calling on you to-morrow, Josserand and I, to settle -everything, for we are aware that Monsieur Auguste would do nothing -without you. It is with respect to the payment of the dowry; and, really, -as we are so comfortable here——” -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Josserand, again suffering the greatest anguish, looked out into -the gloomy depths of the Rue de la Cerisaie, with its deserted pavements, -and its dark façades. He regretted having come. They were again going to -take advantage of his weakness and engage him in some disgraceful affair, -which would cause him no end of suffering afterward. A feeling of revolt -made him interrupt his brother-in-law. -</p> - -<p> -“Another time; this is not a fitting place, really.” -</p> - -<p> -“But why, pray?” exclaimed Duveyrier, very graciously. “We are better here -than anywhere else. You were saying, sir?” -</p> - -<p> -“We give Berthe fifty thousand francs,” continued the uncle. “Only, these -fifty thousand francs are represented by a dotal insurance at twenty -years’ date, which Josserand took out for his daughter when she was four -years old. She will, therefore, only receive the money in three years’ -time——” -</p> - -<p> -“Allow me!” again interrupted the cashier, with a scared look. -</p> - -<p> -“No, let me finish; Monsieur Duveyrier understands perfectly. We do not -wish the young couple to wait three years for money they may need at once, -and we engage ourselves to pay the dowry in installments of ten thousand -francs every six months, on the understanding that we repay ourselves -later on with the insurance money.” -</p> - -<p> -A pause ensued. Monsieur Josserand, feeling frozen and choking, again -looked into the dark street. -</p> - -<p> -“All that seems to me very reasonable,” said he, at length. “It is for us -to thank you. It is very seldom that a dowry is paid at once in full.” -</p> - -<p> -“Never, sir!” affirmed the uncle, energetically. “Such a thing is never -done.” -</p> - -<p> -And the three men shook hands as they arranged to meet on the Thursday at -the notary’s. When Monsieur Josserand came back into the light, he was so -pale that he was asked if he was unwell. As a matter of fact he did not -feel very well, and he withdrew, without being willing to wait for his -brother-in-law, who had just gone into the dining-room where the classic -tea was represented by champagne. -</p> - -<p> -Gueulin, stretched on a sofa near the window, murmured: -</p> - -<p> -“That scoundrel of an uncle!” -</p> - -<p> -He had overheard some words about the insurance, and he chuckled as he -confided the truth of the matter to Octave and Trublot. It had been done -at his office; there was not a sou to receive, the Vabres were being taken -in. Then, as the two others laughed at this good joke, holding their sides -meanwhile, he added, with comical earnestness. -</p> - -<p> -“I want a hundred francs. If the uncle doesn’t give me a hundred francs, -I’ll split.” -</p> - -<p> -The voices were becoming louder, the champagne was upsetting the good -behavior established by Clarisse. In her drawing-room the conclusion of -all the parties was invariably rather lively. She herself would make a -mistake sometimes. Trublot drew Octave’s attention to her as she stood -behind a door with her arms round the neck of a fellow with the build of a -peasant, a stone carver just arrived from the South, and whom his native -town wished to make an artist of. But, Duveyrier having pushed the door, -she quickly removed her arms, and recommended the young man to him: -Monsieur Payan, a sculptor with a very graceful talent; and Duveyrier, -delighted, promised to obtain some work for him. -</p> - -<p> -“Work, work,” repeated Gueulin, in a low voice; “he has as much here as he -can want, the big ninny!” -</p> - -<p> -Toward two o’clock, when the three young men and the uncle left the Rue de -la Cerisaie, the latter was completely drunk. -</p> - -<p> -“Hang it all, uncle! keep yourself up! you’re breaking our arms!” -</p> - -<p> -He, with his throat full of sobs, had become very tender hearted and very -moral. -</p> - -<p> -“Go away, Gueulin,” stuttered he; “go away! I won’t have you see your -uncle in such a state. No, my boy, it’s not right; go away!” -</p> - -<p> -And as his nephew called him an old rogue: -</p> - -<p> -“Rogue! that’s nothing. One must make oneself respected. I esteem women—always -decent women; and when there’s no feeling it disgusts me. Go away, -Gueulin, you’re making your uncle blush. These gentlemen are sufficient.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then,” declared Gueulin, “you must give me a hundred francs. Really, I -want them for my rent. They’re going to turn me out.” -</p> - -<p> -At this unexpected demand, Bachelard’s intoxication increased to such an -extent that he had to be propped up against the shutters of a warehouse. -He stuttered: -</p> - -<p> -“Eh! what! a hundred francs! Don’t search me. I’ve nothing but coppers. -You want ’em to squander in bad places! No, I’ll never encourage -you in your vices. I know my duty; your mother confided you to my care on -her death-bed. You know, I’ll call out if I am searched.” -</p> - -<p> -He continued, his indignation increasing against the dissolute life led by -youth, and returning to the necessity there was for the display of virtue. -</p> - -<p> -“I say,” Gueulin ended by saying, “I’ve not got to the point of taking -families in. Ah! you know what I mean! If I were to talk, you’d soon give -me my hundred francs!” -</p> - -<p> -But the uncle at once became deaf to everything. He went grunting and -stumbling along. In the narrow street where they then were, behind the -church of Saint-Gervaise, a white lantern alone burned with the palish -glimmer of a night-light, displaying a gigantic number painted on its -roughened glass. A stifled trepidation issued from the house, whilst the -closed shutters emitted a tew narrow rays of light. -</p> - -<p> -“I’ve had enough of it,” declared Gueulin, abruptly. “Excuse me, uncle, I -forgot my umbrella up there.” -</p> - -<p> -And he entered the house. Bachelard was indignant and full of disgust. He -demanded at least a little respect for women. With such morals France was -done for. On the Place de l’Hôtel-de-Ville, Octave and Trublot at length -found a cab, inside which they shoved him like some bundle. -</p> - -<p> -“Rue d’Enghien,” said they to the driver. “You must pay yourself. Search -him.” -</p> - -<p> -The marriage contract was signed on the Thursday before Maitre Renandin, -notary in the Rue de Grammont. At the moment of starting, there had been -another awful row at the Josserands’, the father having, in a supreme -revolt, made the mother responsible for the lie they had forced him to -countenance; and they had once more cast their families in each other’s -teeth. How did they expect him to earn another ten thousand francs every -six months? The obligation was driving him mad. Uncle Bachelard, who was -there, kept placing his hand on his heart, full of fresh promises, now -that he had so managed that he would not have to part with a sou, and -overflowing with affection, and swearing that he would never leave his -little Berthe in an awkward position. But the father, in his exasperation, -had merely shrugged his shoulders, asking Bachelard if he really took him -for a fool. -</p> - -<p> -On the evening of that day, a cab came to fetch Saturnin away. His mother -had declared that it was too dangerous for him to be at the ceremony; one -could not cast loose a madman who talked of spitting people in the midst -of a wedding party; and, Monsieur Josserand, broken-hearted, had been -obliged to apply for the admission of the poor fellow into the Asile des -Moulineaux, kept by Doctor Chassagne. The cab was brought under the porch -at twilight. Saturnin came down holding Berthe’s hand, and thinking he was -going with her into the country. But when he was inside the cab, he -struggled furiously, breaking the windows and thrusting his bloody fists -through them. And Monsieur Josserand returned up-stairs weeping, all upset -by this departure in the dark, his ears ringing with the wretched -creature’s yells, mingled with the cracking of the whip and the gallop of -the horse. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> -CHAPTER VIII. -</h2> - -<p class="pfirst"> -<span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he marriage before -the mayor had taken place on the Thursday. On the Saturday morning, as -early as a quarter past ten, some ladies were already waiting in the -Josserands’ drawing-room, the religious ceremony being fixed for eleven -o’clock, at Saint-Roch. There were Madame Juzeur, always in black silk; -Madame Dambreville, tightly laced in a costume of the color of dead -leaves; and Madame Duveyrier, dressed very simply in pale blue. All three -were conversing in low tones amongst the scattered chairs; whilst Madame -Josserand was finishing dressing Berthe in the adjoining room, assisted by -the servant and the two bridesmaids, Hortense and little Campardon. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! it is not that,” murmured Madame Duveyrier; “the family is honorable. -But, I admit, I rather dreaded on my brother Auguste’s account the -mother’s domineering spirit. One cannot be too careful, can one?” -</p> - -<p> -“No doubt,” said Madame Juzeur; “one not only marries the daughter, one -often marries the mother as well, and it is very unpleasant when the -latter interferes in the home.” -</p> - -<p> -This time Angèle and Hortense opened the folding doors wide so that the -bride should not catch her dress in anything; and Berthe appeared in a -white silk dress, all gay with white flowers, with a white wreath, a white -bouquet, and a white garland, which crossed the skirt, and was lost in the -train in a shower of little white buds. She looked charming amidst all -this whiteness, with her fresh complexion, her golden hair, her laughing -eyes, and her candid mouth of an already enlightened girl. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! delicious!” exclaimed the ladies. -</p> - -<p> -They all embraced her with an air of ecstasy. The Josserands, at their -wits’ end, not knowing where to obtain the two thousand francs which the -wedding would cost them, five hundred francs for dress, and fifteen -hundred francs for their share of the dinner and ball, had been obliged to -send Berthe to Doctor Chassagne’s to see Saturnin, to whom an aunt had -just left three thousand francs; and Berthe, having obtained permission to -take her brother out for a drive, by way of amusing him, had smothered him -with caresses in the cab, and had then gone with him for a minute to the -notary, who was unaware of the poor creature’s condition, and who had -everything ready for his signature. The silk dress and the abundance of -flowers surprised the ladies, who were reckoning up the cost whilst giving -vent to their admiration. -</p> - -<p> -“Perfect! in most exquisite taste!” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand appeared, beaming, in a mauve dress of an unpleasant hue, -which made her look taller and rounder than ever, with the majesty of a -tower. She fumed about Monsieur Josserand, called to Hortense to find her -shawl, and vehemently forbade Berthe to sit down. -</p> - -<p> -“Take care, you will crush your flowers!” -</p> - -<p> -“Do not worry yourself,” said Clothilde, in her calm voice. “We have -plenty of time. Auguste is coming for us.” -</p> - -<p> -They were all waiting in the drawing-room, when Théophile abruptly burst -in, his dress-coat askew, his white cravat tied like a piece of cord, and -without his hat. His face, with its few hairs and bad teeth, was livid; -his limbs, like an ailing child’s, were trembling with fury. -</p> - -<p> -“What is the matter with you?” asked his sister, in amazement. -</p> - -<p> -“The matter is—the matter is——” -</p> - -<p> -But a fit of coughing interrupted him, and he stood there for a minute, -choking, spitting in his handkerchief, and enraged at being unable to give -vent to his anger. Valérie looked at him, confused, and warned by a sort -of instinct. At length, he shook his fist at her, without even noticing -the bride and the other ladies around him. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, whilst looking everywhere for my necktie, I found a letter in front -of the wardrobe.” -</p> - -<p> -He crumpled a piece of paper between his febrile fingers. His wife had -turned pale. She realized the situation; and, to avoid the scandal of a -public explanation, she passed into the room that Berthe had just left. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! well,” said she, simply, “I prefer to leave if he is going mad.” -</p> - -<p> -“Let me alone!” cried Théophile to Madame Duveyrier, who was trying to -quiet him. “I intend to confound her. This time I have proof, and there is -no doubt, oh, no! It shall not pass off like that, for I know him——” -</p> - -<p> -His sister had seized him by the arm, and squeezing it, shook him -authoritatively. -</p> - -<p> -“Hold your tongue! don’t you see where you are? This is not the proper -time, understand!” -</p> - -<p> -But he started off again: -</p> - -<p> -“It is the proper time! I don’t care a hang for the others. So much the -worse that it happens to-day! It will serve as a lesson to every one.” -</p> - -<p> -However, he lowered his voice, his strength failing him, he had dropped -onto a chair, ready to burst into tears. An uncomfortable feeling had -invaded the drawing-room. Madame Dambreville and Madame Juzeur had -politely gone to the other end of the apartment, and pretended not to -understand. Madame Josserand, greatly annoyed at an adventure, the scandal -of which would cast a gloom over the wedding, had passed into the bed-room -to cheer up Valérie. As for Berthe, who was studying her wreath before the -looking-glass, she had not heard anything. Therefore, she questioned -Hortense in a low voice. They whispered together; the latter indicated -Théophile with a glance, and added some explanations, while pretending to -arrange the fall of the veil. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah!” simply said the bride, with a chaste and amused look, her eyes fixed -on the husband, without the least sign of confusion in her halo of white -flowers. -</p> - -<p> -Clotilde softly asked her brother for particulars. Madame Josserand -reappeared, exchanged a few words with her, and then returned to the -adjoining room. It was an exchange of diplomatic notes. The husband -accused Octave, that counter-jumper, whom he would chastise in church, if -he dared to come there. He swore he had seen him the previous day with his -wife on the steps of Saint-Roch; he had had a doubt before, but now he was -sure of it—everything tallied, the height, the walk. Yes, madame -invented luncheons with lady friends, or else she went inside Saint-Roch -with Camille, through the same door as every one, as though to say her -prayers; then leaving the child with the woman who let out the chairs, she -would make off with her gentleman by the old way, a dirty passage, where -no one would have gone to look for her. However, Valérie had smiled on -hearing Octave’s name mentioned; never with that one, she pledged her oath -to Madame Josserand, with nobody at all for the matter of that, she added, -but less with him than with any one else; and, this time, with truth on -her side, she, in her turn, talked of confounding her husband, by proving -to him that the note was no more in Octave’s handwriting than that Octave -was the gentleman of Saint-Roch. Madame Josserand listened to her, -studying her with her experienced glance, and solely preoccupied with -finding some means of helping her to deceive Théophile. And she gave her -the very best advice. -</p> - -<p> -“Leave all to me, don’t move in the matter. As he chooses, it shall he -Monsieur Mouret, well! it shall be Monsieur Mouret. There is no harm in -being seen on the steps of a church with Monsieur Mouret, is there? The -letter alone is compromising. You will triumph when our young friend shows -him a couple of lines of his own handwriting. Above all, say just the same -as I say. You understand, I don’t intend to let him spoil such a day as -this.” -</p> - -<p> -When she returned into the room with Valérie, who was greatly affected, -Théophile, on his side, was saying to his sister in a choking voice: -</p> - -<p> -“I will do so for you, I promise not to disfigure her here, as you assure -me it would scarcely be proper, on account of this wedding. But I cannot -be answerable for what may take place at church. If the counter-jumper -comes and beards me there, in the midst of my own family, I will -exterminate them one after the other.” -</p> - -<p> -Auguste, looking very correct in his black dress-coat, his left eye shrunk -up, suffering from a headache which he had been dreading for three days -past, arrived at this moment, accompanied by his father and his -brother-in-law, both looking very solemn, to fetch his bride. There was a -little jostling, for they had ended by being late. -</p> - -<p> -At Saint-Roch the big double doors were opened wide. A red carpet covered -the steps down to the pavement. It was raining; the May morning was very -cold. -</p> - -<p> -“Thirteen steps,” said Madame Juzeur in a low voice to Valérie, when they -had passed through the doorway. “It is not a good sign.” -</p> - -<p> -“Are you sure you have the ring?” inquired Madame Josserand of Auguste, -who was seating himself with Berthe on the arm-chairs placed before the -altar. -</p> - -<p> -He had a fright, fancying he had forgotten it, then felt it in his -waistcoat pocket. She had, however, not waited for his answer. Ever since -she entered, she had been standing on tip-toe, searching the company with -her glance. There were Trublot and Gueulin, both best men; Uncle Bachelard -and Campardon, the bride’s witnesses; Duveyrier and Doctor Juillerat, the -bridegroom’s witnesses, and all the crowd of acquaintances of whom she was -proud. But she had just caught sight of Octave, who was assiduously -opening a passage for Madame Hédouin, and she drew him behind a pillar, -where she spoke to him in low and rapid tones. The young man, a look of -bewilderment on his face, did not appear to understand. However, he bowed -with an air of amiable obedience. -</p> - -<p> -“It is settled,” whispered Madame Josserand in Valérie’s ear, returning -and seating herself in one of the arm-chairs placed for the members of the -family, behind those of Berthe and Auguste. Monsieur Josserand, the -Vabres, and the Duveyriers were also there. -</p> - -<p> -The organs were now giving forth scales of clear little notes, broken by -big pants. There was quite a crush; the choir was filling up, and men -remained standing in the aisles. The Abbé Mauduit had reserved to himself -the joy of blessing the union of one of his dear penitents. When he -appeared in his surplice, he exchanged a friendly smile with the -congregation, every face there being familiar to him. Some voices -commenced the <i>Veni Creator</i>, the organs resumed their song of -triumph, and it was at this moment that Théophile discovered Octave, to -the left of the chancel, standing before the chapel of Saint-Joseph. -</p> - -<p> -His sister Clotilde tried to detain him. -</p> - -<p> -“I cannot,” stammered he; “I will never submit to it.” -</p> - -<p> -And he made Duveyrier follow him, to represent the family. The <i>Veni -Creator</i> continued. A few persons looked round. -</p> - -<p> -Théophile, who had talked of blows, was in such a state of agitation, when -planting himself before Octave, that he was unable at first to say a word, -vexed at being short, and raising himself up on tiptoe. -</p> - -<p> -“Sir,” said he at length, “I saw you yesterday with my wife——” -</p> - -<p> -But the <i>Veni Creator</i> was just coming to an end, and he was quite -scared on hearing the sound of his own voice. Moreover, Duveyrier, very -much annoyed by the incident, tried to make him understand that the time -was badly chosen for an explanation. The ceremony had now begun before the -altar. After addressing an affecting exhortation to the bride and -bridegroom, the priest took the wedding-ring to bless it. -</p> - -<p> -“<i>Benedic, Domine Deus noster, annulum nuptialem hunc, quem nos in tuo -nomine benedieimus</i>——” -</p> - -<p> -Then Théophile plucked up courage to repeat his words in a low voice: -</p> - -<p> -“Sir, you were in this church yesterday with my wife.” -</p> - -<p> -Octave, still bewildered by what Madame Josserand had said to him, and -without having thoroughly understood her, related the little story, -however, in an easy sort of way. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, I did indeed meet Madame Vabre, and we went and looked at the -repairing of the Calvary which my friend Campardon is directing.” -</p> - -<p> -“You admit it,” stammered the husband, again overcome with fury, “you -admit it——” -</p> - -<p> -Duveyrier was obliged to slap him on the shoulder to calm him. The shrill -voice of one of the boy choristers was responding: -</p> - -<p> -“<i>Amen</i>.” -</p> - -<p> -“And you no doubt recognize this letter,” continued Théophile, offering a -piece of paper to Octave. -</p> - -<p> -“Come, not here!” said the counselor, thoroughly scandalized. “You are -going out of your mind, my dear fellow.” -</p> - -<p> -Octave unfolded the letter. The emotion had increased amongst the -congregation. There were whisperings, and nudgings of elbows, and glancing -over the tops of prayer-books; no one was now paying the least attention -to the ceremony. The bride and bridegroom alone remained grave and stiff -before the priest. Then Berthe, turning her head, caught sight of -Théophile getting whiter and whiter as he addressed Octave; and, from that -moment, her mind was absent—she kept casting bright side glances in -the direction of the chapel of Saint-Joseph. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, the young man was reading in a low voice: -</p> - -<p> -“My duck, what bliss yesterday! Tuesday next, in the confessional of the -chapel of the Holy Angels.” -</p> - -<p> -The priest, after having obtained from the bridegroom the “yes” of a -serious man who signs nothing without reading it, had turned toward the -bride. -</p> - -<p> -“You promise and swear to be faithful to Monsieur Auguste Vabre in all -things, like a true wife should be to her husband, in accordance with -God’s commandment?” -</p> - -<p> -But Berthe, having seen the letter, and full of the thought of the blows -she was expecting would be given, was not listening, but was following the -scene from beneath her veil. There was an awkward silence. At length she -became aware that they were waiting for her. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, yes,” she hastily replied, in a happen-what-may manner. -</p> - -<p> -The abbé followed the direction of her glance with surprise; and, guessing -that something unusual was taking place in one of the aisles, he in turn -became singularly absent-minded. The story had now circulated; every one -knew it. The ladies, pale and grave, did not withdraw their eyes from -Octave. The men smiled in a discreetly waggish way. And, whilst Madame -Josserand reassured Madame Duveyrier, with slight shrugs of her shoulders, -Valérie alone seemed to give all her attention to the wedding, beholding -nothing else, as though overcome by emotion. -</p> - -<p> -“My duck, what bliss yesterday—” Octave read again, affecting -intense surprise. -</p> - -<p> -Then, returning the letter to the husband, he said: -</p> - -<p> -“I do not understand it, sir. The writing is not mine. See for yourself.” -</p> - -<p> -And taking from his pocket a note-book in which he wrote down his -expenses, like the careful fellow he was, he showed it to Théophile. -</p> - -<p> -“What! not your writing!” stammered the latter. “You are making a fool of -me; it must be your writing.” -</p> - -<p> -The priest had to make the sign of the cross on Berthe’s left hand. His -eyes elsewhere, he mistook the hand and made it on the right one. -</p> - -<p> -“<i>In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti</i>.” -</p> - -<p> -“<i>Amen</i>,” responded the boy chorister, also raising himself up to -see. -</p> - -<p> -In short, the scandal was prevented. Duveyrier proved to poor, bewildered -Théophile that the letter could not have been written by Monsieur Mouret. -It was almost a disappointment for the congregation. There were sighs, and -a few hasty words exchanged. And when every one, still in a state of -excitement, turned again toward the altar, Berthe and Auguste were man and -wife, she without appearing to have been aware of what was going on, he -not having missed a word the priest had uttered, giving his whole -attention to the matter, only disturbed by his headache, which closed his -left eye. -</p> - -<p> -“The dear children!” said Monsieur Josserand, absorbed in mind and his -voice trembling, to Monsieur Vabre, who ever since the commencement of the -ceremony had been busy counting the lighted tapers, always making a -mistake, and beginning his calculations over again. -</p> - -<p> -“Admit nothing,” said Madame Josserand to Valérie, as the family moved -toward the vestry after the mass. -</p> - -<p> -In the vestry the married couple and their witnesses first of all wrote -their signatures. They were kept waiting, however, by Campardon, who had -taken some ladies to inspect the works at the Calvary, at the end of the -choir, behind a wooden hoarding. He at length arrived, and, apologizing, -proceeded to cover the register with a big flourish. The Abbé Mauduit had -wished to honor the two families by handing round the pen himself, and -pointing out with his finger the place where each one was to sign; and he -smiled with his air of amiable, worldly tolerance in the center of the -grave apartment, the woodwork of which retained a continual odor of -incense. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! mademoiselle,” said Campardon to Hortense, “does not all this make -you long to do the same?” -</p> - -<p> -Then he regretted his want of tact. Hortense, who was the elder sister, -bit her lips. She was expecting to have a decisive answer from Verdier -that evening at the ball, for she had been pressing him to choose between -her and his creature. Therefore she replied in an unpleasant tone of -voice: -</p> - -<p> -“I have plenty of time. Whenever I think proper.” -</p> - -<p> -And, turning her back on the architect, she attacked her brother Léon, who -had only just arrived, late as usual. -</p> - -<p> -“You are nice! papa and mamma are very pleased. Not even able to be in -time when one of your sisters is being married! We were expecting you at -least with Madame Dambreville.” -</p> - -<p> -“Madame Dambreville does what she pleases,” said the young man curtly, -“and I do what I can.” -</p> - -<p> -A coolness had arisen between them. Léon considered that she was keeping -him too long for her own use, and was weary of a connection the burden of -which he had accepted in the sole hope of its leading to some grand -marriage; and for a fortnight past he had been requesting her to keep her -promises. Madame Dambreville, carried away by a passion of love, had even -complained to Madame Josserand of what she termed her son’s crotchets. -</p> - -<p> -“Yet a marriage is so soon settled!” said Madame Dambreville, without -thinking of her words, and bestowing on him an imploring look to soften -him. -</p> - -<p> -“Not always!” retorted he, harshly. -</p> - -<p> -And he went and kissed Berthe, then shook his new brother-inlaw’s hand, -whilst Madame Dambreville turned pale with anguish, drawing herself up in -her costume of the color of dead leaves, and smiling vaguely toward the -persons who entered. -</p> - -<p> -It was the procession of friends, of simple acquaintances, of all the -guests gathered together in the church, which now passed through the -vestry. The newly married couple, standing up, were continually -distributing hand-shakes, and invariably with the same embarrassed and -delighted air. The Josserands and the Duveyriers were not always able to -go through the introductions. At times they looked at each other in -surprise, for Bachelard had brought persons whom nobody knew, and who -talked too loud. Little by little everything gave way to confusion; there -was quite a crush, hands were held out over the heads, young girls -squeezed between pot-bellied gentlemen, left pieces of their white skirts -on the legs of these fathers, these brothers, these uncles, still sweating -with some vice, enfranchised in a quiet neighborhood. Away from the crowd, -Gueulin and Trublot were relating to Octave how Clarisse had almost been -caught by Duveyrier the night before, and had now resigned herself to -smothering him with caresses, so as to shut his eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“Hallo!” murmured Gueulin, “he is kissing the bride; it must smell nice.” -</p> - -<p> -Valérie, who kept Madame Juzeur near her to help her to keep her -countenance, listened with emotion to the conciliatory words which the -Abbé Mauduit also considered it his duty to address to her. Then, as they -were at length leaving the church, she paused before the two fathers, to -allow Berthe to pass on her husband’s arm. -</p> - -<p> -“You ought to be satisfied,” said she to Monsieur Josserand, wishing to -show how free her mind was. “I congratulate you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, yes,” declared Monsieur Vabre in his clammy voice, “it is a very -great responsibility the less.” -</p> - -<p> -And, whilst Trublot and Gueulin rushed about seeing all the ladies to the -carriages, Madame Josserand, whose shawl attracted quite a crowd, -obstinately insisted on remaining the last on the pavement, publicly to -display her maternal triumph. -</p> - -<p> -The repast that evening at the Hôtel du Louvre was likewise marred by -Théophile’s unlucky affair. The latter was quite a plague, it had been the -topic of conversation all the afternoon in the carriages during the drive -in the Bois de Boulogne; and the ladies always came to this conclusion, -that the husband ought at least to have waited until the morrow before -finding the letter. None but the most intimate friends of both families -sat down to table. The only lively episode was a speech from uncle -Bachelard, whom the Josserands could not very well avoid inviting, in -spite of their terror. He was drunk, indeed, as early as the roast: he -raised his glass, and commenced with these words: “I am happy in the joy I -feel,” which he kept repeating, unable to say anything further. The other -guests smiled complacently. Auguste and Berthe, already worn out, looked -at each other every now and then, with an air of surprise at seeing -themselves opposite one another; and, when they remembered how this was, -they gazed in their plates in a confused way. -</p> - -<p> -Nearly two hundred invitations had been issued for the ball. The guests -began to arrive as early as half-past nine. Three chandeliers lit up the -large red drawing-room, in which only some seats along the wall had been -left, whilst at one end, in front of the fireplace, the little orchestra -was installed; moreover, a bar had been placed at the farthest end of an -adjoining room, and the two families also had a small apartment into which -they could retire. -</p> - -<p> -As Madame Duveyrier and Madame Josserand were receiving the first -arrivals, that poor Théophile, who had been watched ever since the -morning, was guilty of a most regrettable piece of brutality. Campardon -was asking Valérie to grant him the first waltz. She laughed, and the -husband took it as a provocation. -</p> - -<p> -“You laugh! you laugh!” stammered he. “Tell me who the letter is from? it -must be from somebody, that letter must.” -</p> - -<p> -He had taken the entire afternoon to disengage that one idea from the -confusion into which Octave’s answers had plunged him. Now, he stuck to -it: if it was not Monsieur Mouret, it was then some one else, and he -demanded a name. As Valerie was walking off without answering him, he -seized hold of her arm and twisted it spitefully, with the rage of an -exasperated child, repeating the while: -</p> - -<p> -“I’ll break it. Tell me, who is the letter from?” -</p> - -<p> -The young woman, frightened, and stifling a cry of pain, had become quite -white. Campardon felt her abandoning herself against his shoulder, -succumbing to one of those nervous attacks which would shake her for hours -together. He had scarcely time to lead her into the apartment reserved for -the two families, where he laid her on a sofa. Some ladies had followed -him—Madame Juzeur, Madame Dambreville—who unlaced her, whilst -he discreetly retired. -</p> - -<p> -“Sir, I beg your pardon,” said Théophile, going up to Octave, whose eyes -he had encountered when twisting his wife’s arm. “Every one in my place -would have suspected you; is it not so? But I wish to shake hands with -you, to prove to you that I admit myself to have been in the wrong.” -</p> - -<p> -He shook hands with him, and led him one side, tortured by a necessity to -unbosom himself, to find a confidant for the outpourings of his heart. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! sir, if I were to tell you——” -</p> - -<p> -And he talked for a long while of his wife. When a young girl, she was -delicate, it was said jokingly that marriage would set her right. She had -not sufficient air in her parents’ shop, where, every evening for three -months, she had appeared to him very nice, obedient, of a rather sad -disposition, but charming. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! sir, marriage did not set her right—far from it. After a few -weeks she became terrible; we could no longer agree together. There were -quarrels about nothing at all. Changes of temper at every minute—laughing, -crying, without my knowing why. And absurd sentiments, ideas that would -knock a person down, a perpetual mania for making people wild. In short, -sir, my home has become a hell.” -</p> - -<p> -“It is very remarkable,” murmured Octave, who felt a necessity for saying -something. -</p> - -<p> -Then, the husband, ghastly pale, and drawing himself up on his short legs, -to override the ridiculous, came to what he called the wretched woman’s -bad behavior. Twice he had suspected her; but he was too honorable; he -could not retain such an idea in his head. This time, though, he was -obliged to yield to evidence. It was not possible to doubt, was it? And, -with his trembling fingers, he felt the pocket of his waistcoat which -contained the letter. -</p> - -<p> -“If she did it for money, I might understand it,” added he. “But they -never gave her any; I am sure of that; I should know it. Then, tell me -what it can be that she has in her skin? I am very nice myself; she has -everything at home. I cannot understand it. If you can understand it, sir, -explain it to me, I beg of you.” -</p> - -<p> -“It is very curious, very curious,” repeated Octave, embarrassed by all -these disclosures, and trying to make his escape. -</p> - -<p> -But the husband, in a state of fever, and tormented by a want of -certitude, would not let him go. At this moment, Madame Juzeur, -reappearing, went and whispered a word to Madame Josserand, who was -greeting the arrival of a big jeweler of the Palais-Royal with a grand -curtesy; and she, quite upset, hastened to follow her. -</p> - -<p> -“I think that your wife has a very violent attack,” observed Octave to -Théophile. -</p> - -<p> -“Never mind her!” replied the latter in a fury, vexed at not being ill, so -as to be coddled up also; “she is only to pleased to have an attack! It -always puts every one on her side. My health is no better than hers, yet I -have never deceived her!” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand did not return. The rumor circulated among the intimate -friends that Valérie was struggling in frightful convulsions. There should -have been men present to hold her down; but, as they had been obliged to -half undress her, they declined Trublot’s and Gueulin’s offers of -assistance. -</p> - -<p> -“Doctor Juillerat! where is Doctor Juillerat?” asked Madame Josserand, -rushing back into the room. -</p> - -<p> -The doctor had been invited, but no one had as yet seen him. Then she no -longer strove to hide the slumbering rage which had been collecting within -her since the morning. She spoke out before Octave and Campardon, without -mincing her words. -</p> - -<p> -“I am beginning to have enough of it. It is not very pleasant for my -daughter, all this cuckoldom paraded before us!” -</p> - -<p> -She looked about for Hortense, and at length caught sight of her talking -to a gentleman, of whom she could only see the back, but whom she -recognized by its breadth. It was Verdier. This increased her ill-humor. -She sharply called the young girl to her, and, lowering her voice, told -her that she would do better to remain at her mother’s disposal on such a -day as that. Hortense did not listen to the reprimand. She was triumphant; -Verdier had just fixed their marriage at two months from then, in June. -</p> - -<p> -“Shut up!” said the mother. -</p> - -<p> -“I assure you, mamma. He already sleeps out three nights a week so as to -accustom the other to it, and in a fortnight he will stop away altogether. -Then it will be all over, and I shall have him.” -</p> - -<p> -“Shut up! I have already had more than enough of your romance! You will -just oblige me by waiting near the door for Doctor Juillerat, and by -sending him to me the moment he arrives. And, above all, not a word of all -this to your sister!” -</p> - -<p> -She returned to the adjoining room, leaving Hortense muttering that, thank -goodness! she required no one’s approbation, and that they would all be -nicely caught one day, when they saw her make a better marriage than the -others. Yet, she went to the door, and watched for the doctor’s arrival. -</p> - -<p> -The orchestra was now playing a waltz. Berthe was dancing with one of her -husband’s young cousins, so as to dispose of the relations in turn. All -the guests had an air of amusing themselves immensely, and expatiated -before them on the liveliness of the ball. It was, according to Campardon, -a liveliness of a good standard. -</p> - -<p> -The architect, with an effusion of gallantry, concerned himself a great -deal about Valérie’s condition, without, however, missing a dance. He had -the idea to send his daughter Angèle for news in his name. The child, -whose fourteen years had been burning with curiosity since the morning -around the lady that every one was talking about, was delighted at being -able to penetrate into the little room. And, as she did not return, the -architect was obliged to take the liberty of slightly opening the door and -thrusting his head in. He beheld his daughter standing up beside the sofa, -deeply absorbed by the sight of Valérie, whose bosom, shaken by spasms, -had escaped from the unhooked bodice. Protestations arose, the ladies -called to him not to come in; and he withdrew, assuring them that he -merely wished to know how she was getting on. -</p> - -<p> -“She is no better, she is no better,” said he, in a melancholy way to the -persons who happened to be near the door. “There are four of them holding -her. How strong a woman must be, to be able to bound about like that -without hurting herself!” -</p> - -<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> -<img src="images/0193.jpg" alt="0193 " width="100%" /> -</div> - -<p> -But Doctor Juillerat quickly crossed the ball-room, accompanied by -Hortense, who was explaining matters to him. Madame Duveyrier followed -them. Some persons showed their surprise, more rumors circulated. Scarcely -had the doctor disappeared than Madame Josserand left the little room with -Madame Dambreville. Her rage was increasing; she had just emptied two -water bottles over Valerie’s head; never before had she seen a woman as -nervous as that. Then she had decided to make the round of the ball-room, -so as to stop all remarks by her presence. Only, she walked with such a -terrible step, she distributed such sour smiles, that every one behind her -was let into the secret. -</p> - -<p> -Madame Dambreville did not leave her. Ever since the morning she had been -speaking to her of Léon, making vague complaints, trying to bring her to -speak to her son, so as to patch up their connection. She drew her -attention to him, as he was conducting a tall, scraggy girl back to her -place, and to whom he made a show of being very assiduous. -</p> - -<p> -“He abandons us,” said she, with a slight laugh, trembling with suppressed -tears. “Scold him now, for not so much as looking at us.” -</p> - -<p> -“Léon!” called Madame Josserand. -</p> - -<p> -When he came to her, she added roughly, not being in the temper to choose -her words: -</p> - -<p> -“Why are you angry with madame? She bears you no ill-will. Make it up with -her. It does no good to be ill-tempered.” -</p> - -<p> -And she left them embarrassed before each other. Madame Dambreville took -Léon’s arm, and they went and conversed in the recess of a window; then -they tenderly left the ball-room together. She had sworn to arrange his -marriage in the autumn. -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand, who continued to distribute smiles, was overcome by -emotion when she found herself before Berthe, who was out of breath at -having danced so much, and looked quite rosy in her white dress, which was -becoming rumpled. She clasped her in her arms, and almost fainted away at -a vague association of ideas, recalling, no doubt, the other one, whose -face was so frightfully convulsed: -</p> - -<p> -“My poor darling, my poor darling!” murmured she, giving her two big -kisses. -</p> - -<p> -Then Berthe calmly asked: -</p> - -<p> -“How is she?” -</p> - -<p> -At this, Madame Josserand at once became very sour again. What! Berthe -knew it! Why of course she knew it, every one knew it. Her husband alone, -whom she pointed out conducting an old lady to the refreshment bar, was -still ignorant of the story. She even intended to get some one to tell him -everything, for it made him appear too stupid to be always behind every -one else, and never to know anything. -</p> - -<p> -“And I, who have been slaving to hide the catastrophe” said Madame -Josserand, beside herself. “Ah, well! I shall not put myself out any more, -it must be put a stop to. I will not tolerate their making you -ridiculous.” -</p> - -<p> -Every one did indeed know it. Only, so as not to cast a gloom over the -ball, it was not talked about. -</p> - -<p> -“She is better,” Campardon, who had taken another peep, hastened to say. -“One can go in.” -</p> - -<p> -A few male friends ventured to enter. Valerie was still lying down, only -the attack was passing off; and, out of decency, they had covered her -bosom with a napkin, found lying on a sideboard. Madame Juzeur and Madame -Duveyrier were standing before the window listening to Doctor Juillerat, -who was explaining that the attacks sometimes yielded to hot water -applications to the neck. -</p> - -<p> -But the invalid, having seen Octave enter with Campardon, called him to -her by a sign, and spoke a few incoherent words to him in a final -hallucination. He had to sit down beside her, at the doctor’s express -order, who was desirous above all not to thwart her; and thus the young -man listened to her disclosures, he who, during the evening, had already -heard the husband’s. She trembled with fright, she took him for her lover, -and implored him to hide her. Then she recognized him, and burst into -tears, thanking him for his lie of the morning during mass. Octave thought -of that other attack, of which he had wished to take advantage, with the -greedy desire of a school-boy. Now, he was her friend, and she would tell -him everything, perhaps it would be better. -</p> - -<p> -At this moment, Théophile, who had continued to wander up and down before -the door, wished to enter. Other men were there, so he could very well be -there himself. But his appearance created a regular panic. On hearing his -voice, Valérie was again seized with a fit of trembling, every one thought -she was about to have another attack. He, imploring, and struggling -amongst the ladies, whose arms thrust him back, kept obstinately -repeating: -</p> - -<p> -“I only ask her for the name. Let her tell me the name.” -</p> - -<p> -Then, Madame Josserand, arriving, gave vent to her wrath. She drew -Théophile into the little room, to hide the scandal; and said to him -furiously: -</p> - -<p> -“Look here! will you shut up? Ever since this morning you have been -badgering us with your stupidities. You have no tact, sir; yes, you have -absolutely no tact at all! One should not harp on such things on a wedding -day.” -</p> - -<p> -“Excuse me, madame,” murmured he, “this is my business, and does not -concern you!” -</p> - -<p> -“What! it does not concern me? but I form part of your family now, sir, -and do you think your affair amuses me on account of my daughter? Ah! you -have given her a pretty wedding! Not another word, sir, you are deficient -in tact!” -</p> - -<p> -This cry closed his mouth. He was so scared, so feeble looking, with his -slender limbs, and his face like a girl’s, that the ladies smiled -slightly. When one had not the facilities for making a woman happy, one -ought not to marry. Hortense weighed him with a disdainful glance; little -Angèle, whom they had forgotten, hovered round him, with her sly air, as -though she had been looking for something; and he drew back embarrassed, -and blushed when he saw them all, so big and plump, hemming him in with -their sturdy hips. But they felt the necessity of patching up the matter. -Valérie had started off sobbing again, whilst the doctor continued to -bathe her temples. Then they understood one another with a glance, a -common feeling of defense drew them together. They puzzled their brains, -trying to explain the letter to the husband. -</p> - -<p> -“Pooh!” murmured Trublot, who had just rejoined Octave, “it is easy -enough; they have only to say the letter was addressed to the servant.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand heard him. She turned round and looked at him with a -glance full of admiration. Then, turning toward Théophile: -</p> - -<p> -“Does an innocent woman lower herself to give explanations, when accused -with such brutality? Still, I may speak. The letter was dropped by -Françoise, that maid whom your wife had to pack off on account of her bad -conduct. There, are you satisfied? do you not blush with shame?” -</p> - -<p> -At first the husband shrugged his shoulders. But the ladies all remained -serious, answering his objections with very strong reasoning. He was -shaken, when, to complete his discomfiture, Madame Duveyrier got angry, -telling him that his conduct had been abominable, and that she disowned -him. Then, vanquished, and feeling a longing to be kissed, he threw his -arms round Valérie’s neck, and begged her pardon. It was most touching. -Even Madame Josserand was deeply affected. -</p> - -<p> -“It is always best to come to an understanding,” said she, with relief. -“The day will not end so badly, after all.” -</p> - -<p> -When they had dressed Valérie again, and she appeared in the ball-room on -Theophile’s arm, the joy seemed to be redoubled. It was close upon three -o’clock, the guests were beginning to leave; but the orchestra continued -to get through the quadrilles with great gusto. Some of the men smiled -behind the backs of the reconciled couple. A medical remark of -Campardon’s, respecting that poor Théophile, quite delighted Madame -Juzeur. The young girls hastened to stare at Valérie; then they put on -their stupid looks before their mothers’ scandalized glances. Berthe, who -was at length dancing with her husband, must have whispered a word or two -in his ear; for Auguste, made aware of what had been taking place, turned -his head round, and, without getting out of step, looked at his brother -Théophile with the surprise and the superiority of a man to whom such -things cannot happen. There was a final galop, the guests were getting -more free in the stifling heat and the reddish light of the candles, the -vacillating flames of which caused the pendants of the chandeliers to -sparkle. -</p> - -<p> -“You are very intimate with her?” asked Madame Hédouin, as she whirled -round on Octave’s arm, having accepted his invitation to dance. -</p> - -<p> -The young man fancied he felt a slight quiver in her frame, so erect and -so calm. -</p> - -<p> -“Not at all,” said he. “They mixed me up in the matter, which annoys me -immensely. The poor devil swallowed everything.” -</p> - -<p> -“It is very wrong,” declared she, in her grave voice. -</p> - -<p> -No doubt Octave was mistaken. When he withdrew his arm from her waist, -Madame Hédouin was not even panting, her eyes were clear, and her hair not -the least disarranged. But a scandal upset the end of the ball. Uncle -Bachelard, who had finished himself off at the refreshment bar, ventured -on a lively idea. He had suddenly been seen dancing, a most indecent step -before Gueulin. Some napkins rolled round and stuffed in front of his -buttoned-up coat, gave him the bosom of a wet-nurse, and two big oranges -placed on the napkins, behind the lapels, displayed their roundness, in -the sanguineous redness of an excoriated skin. This time every one -protested: though one may earn heaps of money, yet there are limits which -a man who respects himself should never go beyond, especially before young -persons. Monsieur Josserand, ashamed and in despair, drew his -brother-in-law away. Duveyrier displayed the greatest disgust. -</p> - -<p> -At four o’clock the newly married couple returned to the Rue de Choiseul. -They brought Théophile and Valérie back in their carriage. As they went up -to the second floor, where an apartment had been prepared for them, they -came across Octave, who was also retiring to rest. The young man wished to -draw politely on one side, but Berthe made a similar movement, and they -knocked up against each other. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! excuse me, mademoiselle,” said he. -</p> - -<p> -The word “mademoiselle” amused them immensely. She looked at him, and he -recalled the first glance exchanged between them on that same staircase, a -glance of gayety and daring, the charming welcome of which he again -beheld. They understood each other perhaps; she blushed, whilst he went up -alone to his room, in the midst of the death-like peacefulness of the -upper floors. -</p> - -<p> -Auguste, with his left eye closed up, half mad with the headache which had -been clinging to him since the morning, was already in the apartment, -where the other members of the family were arriving. Then, at the moment -of quitting Berthe, Valérie yielded to a sudden fit of emotion, and -pressing her in her arms, and completing the rumpling of her white dress, -she kissed her, saying, in a low voice: -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! my dear, I wish you better luck than I have had!” -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> -CHAPTER IX. -</h2> - -<p class="pfirst"> -<span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>wo days later, -toward seven o’clock, as Octave arrived at the Campardons’ for dinner, he -found Rose by herself, dressed in a cream-color dressing-gown, trimmed -with white lace. -</p> - -<p> -“Are you expecting any one?” asked he. -</p> - -<p> -“No,” replied she, rather confused. “We will have dinner directly Achille -comes in.” -</p> - -<p> -The architect was abandoning his punctual habits; was never there at the -proper time for his meals, arrived very red in the face, with a wild -expression, and cursing business. Then he went off again every evening, on -all kinds of pretexts, talking of appointments at cafés, inventing distant -meetings. Octave, on these occasions, would often keep Rose company till -eleven o’clock, for he had understood that the husband had him there to -board to amuse his wife, and she would gently complain, and tell him her -fears: ah! she left Achille very free, only she was so anxious when he -came home after midnight! -</p> - -<p> -“Do you not think he has been rather sad lately?” asked she, in a tenderly -frightened tone of voice. -</p> - -<p> -The young man had not noticed it. -</p> - -<p> -“I think he is rather worried, perhaps. The works at Saint-Roch cause him -some anxiety.” -</p> - -<p> -But she shook her head, without saying anything further about it. Then she -was very kind to Octave, questioning him with a motherly and sisterly -affection as to how he had employed the day. During nearly nine months -that he had been boarding with them, she had always treated him thus as a -child of the house. -</p> - -<p> -At length the architect appeared. -</p> - -<p> -“Good evening, my pet; good evening, my duck,” said he, kissing her with -his doting air of a good husband. “Another fool has been detaining me in -the street!” -</p> - -<p> -Octave moved away, and he heard them exchange a few words in a low voice. -</p> - -<p> -“Will she come?” -</p> - -<p> -“No; what is the good? and, above all, do not worry yourself.” -</p> - -<p> -“You declared to me that she would come.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well! yes; she is coming. Are you pleased? It is for your sake that I -have done it.” -</p> - -<p> -They took their seats at the table. During the whole of dinnertime they -talked of the English language, which little Angèle had been learning for -a fortnight past. -</p> - -<p> -They were taking their dessert, when a ring at the bell caused Madame -Campardon to start. -</p> - -<p> -“It is madame’s cousin,” Lisa returned and said, in the wounded tone of a -servant whom one has omitted to let into a family secret. -</p> - -<p> -And it was indeed Gasparine who entered. She wore a black woolen dress, -looking very quiet, with her thin face, and her air of a poor shop-girl. -Rose, tenderly enveloped in her dressing-gown of cream-color silk, and -plump and fresh, rose up so moved that tears filled her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! my dear,” murmured she, “you are good. We will forget everything; -will we not?” -</p> - -<p> -She took her in her arms and gave her two hearty kisses. Octave discreetly -wished to retire. But they grew angry: he could remain; he was one of the -family. So he amused himself by looking on. Campardon, at first greatly -embarrassed, turned his eyes away from the two women, puffing about, and -looking for a cigar; whilst Lisa, who was roughly clearing the table, -exchanged glances with surprised Angèle. -</p> - -<p> -“It is your cousin,” at length said the architect to his daughter. “You -have heard us speak of her. Come, kiss her now.” -</p> - -<p> -She kissed her with her sullen air, troubled by the sort of governess -glance with which Gasparine took stock of her, after asking some questions -respecting her age and education. Then, when the others passed into the -drawing-room, she preferred to follow Lisa, who slammed the door, saying, -without even fearing that she might be heard: -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, well! it’ll become precious funny here now!” -</p> - -<p> -In the drawing-room, Campardon, still restless, began to excuse himself. -</p> - -<p> -“On my word of honor! the happy idea was not mine. It is Rose who wished -to be reconciled. Every morning, for more than a week past, she has been -saying to me: ‘Now, go and fetch her.’ So I ended by fetching you.” -</p> - -<p> -And, as though he had felt the necessity of convincing Octave, he took him -up to the window. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! women are women. It bothered me, because I have a dread of rows. -One on the right, the other on the left, there was no squabbling possible. -But I had to give in. Rose says we shall be far happier thus. Anyhow, we -will try. It depends on these two, now, to make my life comfortable.” -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile Rose and Gasparine had seated themselves side by side on the -sofa. They were talking of the past, of the days lived at Plassans, with -good papa Domergue. -</p> - -<p> -“And your health?” asked she, in a low voice. “Achille spoke to me about -it. Is it no better?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, no,” replied Rose, in a melancholy tone. “You see, I eat; I look very -well. But it gets no better; it will never get any better.” -</p> - -<p> -As she began to cry, Gasparine, in her turn, took her in her arms and -pressed her against her flat and ardent breast, whilst Campardon hastened -to console them. -</p> - -<p> -“Why do you cry?” asked she maternally. “The main thing is that you do not -suffer. What does it matter if you have always people about you to love -you?” -</p> - -<p> -Rose was becoming calmer, and already smiling amidst her tears. Then the -architect, carried away by his feelings, clasped them both in the same -embrace, kissing them alternately, and stammering: -</p> - -<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> -<img src="images/0203.jpg" alt="0203 " width="100%" /> -</div> - -<p> -“Yes, yes, we will love each other very much, we will love you such a -deal, my poor little duck. You will see how well everything will go, now -that we are united.” -</p> - -<p> -And, turning toward Octave, he added: -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! my dear fellow, people may talk, there is nothing, after all, like -family ties!” -</p> - -<p> -The end of the evening was delightful. Campardon, who usually fell asleep -on leaving the table if he remained at home, recovered all his artist’s -gayety, the old jokes and the broad songs of the School of Fine Arts. -When, toward eleven o’clock, Gasparine prepared to leave, Rose insisted on -accompanying her to the door, in spite of the difficulty she experienced -in walking that day: and, leaning over the balustrade, in the grave -silence of the staircase, she called after her: -</p> - -<p> -“Come and see us often!” -</p> - -<p> -On the morrow, Octave, feeling interested, tried to make the cousin talk -at “The Ladies’ Paradise,” whilst they were receiving a consignment of -linen goods together. But she answered curtly, and he felt that she was -hostile, annoyed at his having been a witness the evening before. -Moreover, she did not like him; she even displayed a sort of rancor toward -him in their business relations. -</p> - -<p> -Octave had given himself six months, and, though scarcely four had passed, -he was becoming impatient. Every morning he asked himself whether he -should not hurry matters forward, seeing the little progress he had made -in the affections of this woman, always so icy and gentle. She had ended, -however, by showing a real esteem for him, won over by his enlarged ideas, -his dreams of vast modern warehouses discharging millions of merchandise -into the streets of Paris. Often, when her husband was not there, and she -opened the correspondence with the young man of a morning, she would -detain him beside her and consult him, profiting a great deal by his -advice, and a sort of commercial intimacy was thus gradually established -between them. Their hands met amidst bundles of invoices, their breaths -mingled as they added up columns of figures, and they yielded to moments -of emotion before the open cash-box after some extra fortunate receipts. -He even took advantage of these occasions, his tactics being now to reach -her heart through her good trader’s nature, and to conquer her on a day of -weakness, in the midst of the great emotion occasioned by some unexpected -sale. So he remained on the watch for some surprising occurrence which -should deliver her up to him. -</p> - -<p> -About this time, Monsieur Hédouin, having fallen ill, went to pass a -season at Vichy to take the waters. Octave, to speak frankly, was -delighted. Though as cold as marble, Madame Hédouin would become more -tender-hearted during her enforced widowhood. But he fruitlessly awaited a -quiver, a languidness of desire. Never had she been so active, her head so -free, her eye so clear. -</p> - -<p> -At heart, though, the young man did not despair. At times he thought he -had reached the goal, and was already arranging his mode of living for the -near day when he would be the lover of his employer’s wife. He had kept up -his connection with Marie to help him to wait patiently; only, though she -was convenient and cost him nothing, she might perhaps one day become -irksome, with her faithfulness of a beaten cur. Therefore, at the same -time that he took her in his arms on the nights when he felt dull, he -would be thinking of a way of breaking off with her. To do so abruptly -seemed to him to be worse than foolish. One holiday morning, when about to -rejoin his neighbor’s wife, the neighbor himself having gone out early, -the idea had at length come to him of restoring Marie to Jules, of sending -them in a loving way into each other’s arms, so that he might withdraw -with a clear conscience. It was, moreover, a good action, the touching -side of which relieved him of all remorse. He waited a while, however, not -wishing to find himself without a female companion of some kind. -</p> - -<p> -At the Campardons’ another complication was occupying Octave’s mind. He -felt that the moment was arriving when he would have to take his meals -elsewhere. For three weeks past Gasparine had been making herself quite at -home there, with an authority daily increasing. At first she had begun by -coming every evening; then she had appeared at lunch: and, in spite of her -work at the shop, she was commencing to take charge of everything, of -Angèle’s education, and of the household affairs. Rose was ever repeating -in Campardon’s presence: -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! if Gasparine only lived with us!” -</p> - -<p> -But each time the architect, blushing with conscientious scruples, and -tormented with shame, cried out: -</p> - -<p> -“No, no; it cannot be. Besides, where would you put her to sleep?” -</p> - -<p> -And he explained that they would have to give his study as a bedroom to -their cousin, whilst he would move his table and plans into the -drawing-room. It would certainly not inconvenience him in the least; he -would, perhaps, decide to make the alteration one day, for he had no need -of a drawing-room, and his study was becoming too cramped for all the work -he had in hand. Only, Gasparine might very well remain as she was. What -need was there to live all in a heap? -</p> - -<p> -“When one is comfortable,” repeated he to Octave, “it is a mistake to wish -to be better.” -</p> - -<p> -About that time he was obliged to go and spend two days at Evreux. He was -worried about the work in hand at the bishop’s palace. He had yielded to -the bishop’s desires without a credit having been opened for the purpose, -and the construction of the range for the new kitchens and of the heating -apparatus threatened to amount to a very large figure, which it would be -impossible to include in the cost of repairs. Besides that, the pulpit, -for which three thousand francs had been granted, would come to ten -thousand at least. He wished to talk the matter over with the bishop, so -as to take certain precautions. -</p> - -<p> -Rose was only expecting him to return on the Sunday night. He arrived in -the middle of lunch, and his sudden entrance caused quite a scare. -Gasparine was seated at the table, between Octave and Angèle. They -pretended to be all at their ease; but there reigned a certain air of -mystery. Lisa had closed the drawing-room door at a despairing gesture -from her mistress, whilst the cousin kicked beneath the furniture some -pieces of paper that were lying about. -</p> - -<p> -When Campardon talked of changing his things, they stopped him. -</p> - -<p> -“Wait a while. Have a cup of coffee, as you lunched at Evreux.” -</p> - -<p> -At length, as he noticed Rose’s embarrassment, she went and threw her arms -around his neck. -</p> - -<p> -“My dear, you must not scold me. If you had not returned till this -evening, you would have found everything straight.” -</p> - -<p> -She tremblingly opened the doors, and took him into the drawingroom and -the study. A mahogany bedstead, brought that morning by a furniture -dealer, occupied the place of the drawing-table, which had been moved into -the middle of the adjoining room; but as yet nothing had been put -straight; portfolios were knocking about amongst some of Gasparine’s -clothes; the Virgin with the Bleeding Heart was lying against the wall, -kept in position by a new wash-stand. -</p> - -<p> -“It was a surprise,” murmured Madame Campardon, her heart bursting, as she -hid her face in her husband’s waistcoat. -</p> - -<p> -He, deeply moved, looked about him. He said nothing, and avoided -encountering Octave’s eyes. Then, Gasparine asked, in her sharp voice: -</p> - -<p> -“Does it annoy you, cousin? It is Rose who pestered me. But, if you think -I am in the way, it is not too late for me to leave.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! cousin!” at length exclaimed the architect. “All that Rose does is -well done.” -</p> - -<p> -And, the latter having burst out sobbing on his breast, he added: -</p> - -<p> -“Come, my duck, how foolish of you to cry! I am very pleased. You wish to -have your cousin with you; well! have your cousin with you. Everything -suits me. Now, do not cry any more! See! I kiss you like I love you, so -much! so much!” -</p> - -<p> -He devoured her with caresses. Then, Rose, who melted into tears for a -word, but who smiled at once, in the midst of her sobs, was consoled. She -kissed him in her turn, on his beard, saying to him, gently: -</p> - -<p> -“You were harsh. Kiss her also.” -</p> - -<p> -Campardon kissed Gasparine. They called Angèle, who had been looking on -from the dining-room, her eyes bright and her mouth wide open; and she had -to kiss her also. Octave had moved away, having arrived at the conclusion -that they were becoming far too loving in that family. He had noticed with -surprise Lisa’s respectful attitude and smiling attentiveness toward -Gasparine. She was decidedly an intelligent girl, that hussy with the blue -eyelids! -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, the architect had taken off his coat, and whistling and -singing, as lively as a boy, he spent the afternoon in arranging the -cousin’s room. Then Octave understood that his presence interfered with -the free expansion of their hearts; he felt he was one too many in such a -united family, so mentioned that he was going to dine out that evening. -Moreover, he had made up his mind; on the morrow he would thank Madame -Campardon for her kind hospitality, and invent some story for no longer -trespassing upon it. -</p> - -<p> -Toward five o’clock, as he was regretting that he did not know where to -find Trublot, he had the idea to go and ask the Pichons for some dinner, -so as not to pass the evening alone. But, on entering their apartments, he -found himself in the midst of a deplorable family scene. The Vuillaumes -were there, trembling with rage and indignation. -</p> - -<p> -“It is disgraceful, sir!” the mother was saying, standing up with her arm -thrust out toward her son-in-law, who was sitting in a chair in a state of -collapse. “You gave me your word of honor.” -</p> - -<p> -“And you,” added the father, causing his daughter to draw back trembling -as far as the sideboard, “do not try to defend him, you are quite as -guilty. Do you wish to die of hunger!” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Vuillaume had put on her bonnet and shawl again. -</p> - -<p> -“Good-bye!” uttered she, in a solemn tone. “We will at least not encourage -your dissoluteness by our presence. As you no longer pay the least -attention to our wishes, we have nothing to detain us here. Good-bye!” -</p> - -<p> -And, as through force of habit her son-in-law rose to accompany them, she -added: -</p> - -<p> -“Do not trouble yourself, we shall be able to find the omnibus very well -without you. Pass first, Monsieur Vuillaume. Let them eat their dinner, -and much good may it do them, for they won’t always have one!” -</p> - -<p> -Octave, thoroughly bewildered, drew on one side. When they had gone, he -looked at Jules, who was still in a state of collapse on his chair, and at -Marie leaning against the sideboard and looking very pale. Neither of them -said a word. -</p> - -<p> -“What is the matter?” asked he. -</p> - -<p> -But, without answering him, the young woman commenced scolding her husband -in a doleful voice. -</p> - -<p> -“I told you how it would be. You should have waited, and let them learn -the thing by degrees. There was no hurry, it does not show as yet.” -</p> - -<p> -“What is the matter?” repeated Octave. -</p> - -<p> -Then, without even turning her head, she said bluntly, in the midst of her -emotion! -</p> - -<p> -“I am in the family way.” -</p> - -<p> -“I have had enough of them!” cried Jules, rising indignantly. “I thought -it right to tell them at once of this bother. I wonder if they think it -amuses me! I am more taken in by it all than they are. More especially, by -Jove! as it is through no fault of mine. Is it not true, Marie, that we -have no idea how it has come about?” -</p> - -<p> -“That is so, indeed,” affirmed the young woman. -</p> - -<p> -It quite affected Octave; and he felt a violent desire to do something -nice for the Pichons. Jules continued to grumble: they would receive the -child all the same, only it would have done better to have remained where -it was. On her side, Marie, generally so gentle, became angry, and ended -by agreeing with her mother, who never forgave disobedience. And the -couple were coming to a quarrel, throwing the youngster from one to the -other, accusing each other of being the cause of it, when Octave gayly -interfered. -</p> - -<p> -“It is no use quarreling, now that it is there. Come, we won’t dine here; -it would be too sad. I will take you to a restaurant, if you are -agreeable.” -</p> - -<p> -The young woman blushed. Dining at a restaurant was her delight. She -spoke, however, of her little girl, who invariably prevented her from -having any pleasure. But it was decided that, for this once, Lilitte -should go too. And they spent a very pleasant evening. Octave took them to -the “Bœuf à la Mode,” where they had a private room, to be more at their -ease, as he said. There, he overwhelmed them with food, with an earnest -prodigality, without thinking of the bill, happy at seeing them eat. He -even, at dessert, when they had laid Lilitte down between two of the sofa -cushions, called for champagne; and they sat there, their elbows on the -table, their eyes dim, all three full of heart, and feeling languid from -the suffocating heat of the room. At length, at eleven o’clock, they -talked of going home; but they were red, and the fresh air of the street -intoxicated them. Then, as the child, heavy with sleep, refused to walk, -Octave, to do things handsomely until the end, insisted on hailing a cab, -though the Rue de Choiseul was close by. In the cab, he was scrupulous to -the point of not pressing Marie’s knees. Only, upstairs, whilst Jules was -tucking Lilitte in, he imprinted a kiss on the young woman’s forehead, the -farewell kiss of a father parting with his daughter to a son-in-law. Then, -seeing them very loving and looking at each other in a drunken sort of -way, he left them to themselves, wishing them a good-night and many -pleasant dreams as he closed the door. -</p> - -<p> -“Well!” thought he, as he jumped all alone into bed, “it has cost me fifty -francs, but I owed them quite that. After all, my only wish is that her -husband may make her happy, poor little woman!” -</p> - -<p> -And, with his heart full of emotion, he resolved, before falling asleep, -to make his grand attempt on the following evening. -</p> - -<p> -Every Monday, after dinner, Octave assisted Madame Hédouin to examine the -orders of the week. For this purpose they both withdrew to the little -closet at the back, a narrow apartment which merely contained a safe, a -desk, two chairs and a sofa. But it so happened that on the Monday in -question the Duveyriers were going to take Madame Hédouin to the -Opéra-Comique. So, toward three o’clock, she sent for the young man. In -spite of the bright sunshine, they were obliged to burn the gas, for the -closet only received a pale light from an inner courtyard. He bolted the -door, and, as she looked at him in surprise, he murmured: -</p> - -<p> -“No one can come and disturb us.” -</p> - -<p> -She nodded her head approvingly, and they set to work. The new summer -goods were going splendidly, the business of the house continued -increasing. That week especially the sale of the little woolens seemed so -promising that she heaved a sigh. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! if we only had enough room!” -</p> - -<p> -“But,” said he, commencing the attack, “it depends upon yourself. I have -had an idea for some time past, which I wish to lay before you.” -</p> - -<p> -It was the stroke of audacity he had been waiting for. His idea was to -purchase the adjoining house in the Rue Neuve-Saint-Augustin, to give -notice to an umbrella-dealer and to a toy-merchant, and then to enlarge -the warehouses, to which they could add several other vast departments. -And he warmed up as he spoke, showing himself full of disdain for the old -way of doing business in the depths of damp, dark shops, without any -display, evoking a new commerce with a gesture, piling up in palaces of -crystal all the luxury pertaining to woman, turning over millions in the -light of day, and illuminating at night-time in a princely style. -</p> - -<p> -“You will crush the other drapers of the Saint-Roch neighborhood,” said -he; “you will secure all the small customers.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Hédouin listened to him, her elbow on a ledger, her beautiful, -grave head buried in her hand. She was born at “The Ladies’ Paradise,” -which had been founded by her father and her uncle. She loved the house; -she could see it expanding, swallowing up the neighboring houses, and -displaying a royal frontage, and this dream suited her active -intelligence, her upright will, her woman’s delicate intuition of the new -Paris. -</p> - -<p> -“Uncle Deleuze would never give his consent,” murmured she. “Besides, my -husband is too unwell.” -</p> - -<p> -Then, seeing her wavering, Octave assumed his most seductive voice—an -actor’s voice, soft and musical. At the same time he looked tenderly at -her, with his eyes the color of old gold, which some women thought -irresistible. But, though the gas-jet flared close to the nape of her -neck, she remained as cool as ever; she merely fell into a revery, half -stunned by the young man’s inexhaustible flow of words. He had come to -studying the affair from the money point of view, already making an -estimate with the impassioned air of a romantic page declaring a long pent -up love. When she suddenly awoke from her reflections, she found herself -in his arms. He was thinking that she was at length yielding. -</p> - -<p> -“Dear me! so this is what it all meant!” said she in a sad tone of voice, -freeing herself from him as from some tiresome child. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! yes, I love you,” cried he. “Oh! do not repel me. With you I will -do great things——” -</p> - -<p> -And he went on thus to the end of the tirade, which had a false ring about -it. She did not interrupt him; she was standing up and again scanning the -pages of the ledger. Then, when he had finished, she replied: -</p> - -<p> -“I know all that—I have already heard it before. But I thought you -were more sensible than the others, Monsieur Octave. You grieve me, really -you do, for I had counted upon you. However, all young men are foolish. We -need a great deal of order in such a house as this, and you begin by -desiring things which would disturb us from morning to night. I am not a -woman here, I have too much to occupy me. Come, you who are so well -organized, how is it you did not comprehend that it could never be, -because in the first place it is stupid, in the second useless, and, -moreover, luckily for me, I do not care the least about it!” -</p> - -<p> -He would have preferred her to have been indignantly angry, displaying -grand sentiments. Her calm tone of voice, her quiet reasoning of a -practical woman, sure of herself, disconcerted him. He felt himself -becoming ridiculous. -</p> - -<p> -“Have pity, madame,” stammered he, before losing all hope. “See how I -suffer.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, you do not suffer. Anyhow, you will get over it. Hark! there is some -one knocking, you would do better to open the door.” -</p> - -<p> -Then he had to draw the bolt. It was Mademoiselle Gasparine, who wished to -know if any lace-trimmed chemises were expected. The bolted door had -surprised her. But she knew Madame Hédouin too well; and, when she saw her -with her cold air standing in front of Octave, who was full of uneasiness, -a slight mocking smile played about her lips as she looked at him. It -exasperated him, and in his own mind he accused her of having been the -cause of his ill-success. -</p> - -<p> -“Madame,” declared he, abruptly, when Gasparine had withdrawn, “I leave -your employment this evening.” -</p> - -<p> -This was a surprise for Madame Hédouin. She looked at him. -</p> - -<p> -“Why so? I do not discharge you. Oh! it will not make any difference; I -have no fear.” -</p> - -<p> -These words decided him. He would leave at once; he would not endure his -martyrdom a minute longer. -</p> - -<p> -“Very good, Monsieur Octave,” resumed she as serenely as ever. “I will -settle with you directly. However, the firm will regret you, for you were -a good assistant.” -</p> - -<p> -Once out in the street, Octave perceived that he had behaved like a fool. -Four o’clock was striking, the gay spring sun covered with a sheet of gold -a whole corner of the Place Gaillon. And, angry with himself, he wandered -at hap-hazard down the Rue Saint-Roch, discussing the way in which he -ought to have acted. He would go and see if Campardon happened to be in -the church, and take him to the café to have a glass of Madeira. It would -help to divert his thoughts. He entered by the vestibule into which the -vestry door opened, a dark, dirty passage such as is to be met with in -houses of ill-repute. -</p> - -<p> -“You are perhaps looking for Monsieur Campardon?” said a voice close -beside him, as he stood hesitating, scrutinizing the nave with his glance. -</p> - -<p> -It was the Abbé Mauduit, who had just recognized him. The architect being -away, he insisted on showing the works, about which he was most -enthusiastic, to the young man. -</p> - -<p> -“Walk in,” said the Abbé Mauduit, gathering up his cassock. “I will -explain everything to you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Here we are,” continued the priest. “I had the idea of lighting the -central group of the Calvary from above by means of an opening in the -cupola. You can fancy what an effect it will have.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, yes,” murmured. Octave, whose thoughts were diverted by this stroll -amidst building materials. -</p> - -<p> -The Abbé Mauduit, speaking in a loud voice, had the air of a -stage-carpenter directing the placing of some gorgeous scenery. -</p> - -<p> -And he turned round to call out to a workman: -</p> - -<p> -“Move the Virgin on one side; you will be breaking her leg directly.” -</p> - -<p> -The workman called a comrade. Between them they got hold of the Virgin -round the small of her back, and carried her to a place of safety, like -some tall white girl who had fallen down under a nervous attack. -</p> - -<p> -“Be careful!” repeated the priest, following them through the rubbish, -“her dress is already cracked. Wait a while!” -</p> - -<p> -He gave them a hand, seizing Mary round the waist, and then, all covered -with plaster, withdrew from the embrace. -</p> - -<p> -“Then,” resumed he, returning to Octave, “just imagine that the two bays -of the nave there before us are open, and go and stand in the chapel of -the Virgin. Over the altar, and through the chapel of Perpetual Adoration, -you will behold the Calvary right at the back. Just fancy the effect: -these three enormous figures, this bare and simple drama in this -tabernacle recess, beyond the dim, mysterious light of the stained-glass -windows, the lamps and the gold candelabra. Eh? I think it will be -irresistible!” -</p> - -<p> -He was waxing eloquent, and, proud of his idea, he laughed joyfully. -</p> - -<p> -“The most skeptical will be moved,” observed Octave, to please him. -</p> - -<p> -“That is what I think!” cried he. “I am impatient to see everything in -place.” -</p> - -<p> -“I am going to see Monsieur Campardon this evening,” at length said the -Abbe Mauduit. “Ask him to wait in for me. I wish to speak to him about an -improvement without being disturbed.” -</p> - -<p> -And he bowed with his worldly air. Octave was calmed now. Saint-Roch, with -its cool vaults, had unbraced his nerves. He looked curiously at this -entrance to a church through a private house, at the doorkeeper’s room, -from whence at night time the door was often opened for the cause of the -faith, at all that corner of a convent lost amidst the black -conglomeration of the neighborhood. Out in the street, he again raised his -eyes; the house displayed its bare frontage, with its barred and -curtainless windows; but boxes of flowers were fixed by iron supports to -the windows of the fourth floor; and, down below, in the thick walls, were -narrow shops, which helped to fill the coffers of the clergy—a -cobbler’s, a clock-maker’s, an embroiderer’s, and even a wine shop, where -the mutes congregated whenever there was a funeral. Octave, who, from his -rebuff, was in a mood to renounce the world, regretted the quiet lives -which the priests’ servants led up there in those rooms enlivened with -verbenas and sweet peas. -</p> - -<p> -That evening, at half past six, as he entered the Campardons’ apartments -without ringing, he came suddenly upon the architect and Gasparine kissing -each other in the ante-room. The latter, who had just come from the -warehouse, had not even given herself time to close the door. Both stood -stock-still. -</p> - -<p> -“My wife is combing her hair,” stammered the architect, for the sake of -saying something. “Go in and see her.” -</p> - -<p> -Octave, feeling as embarrassed as themselves, hastened to knock at the -door of Rose’s room, where he usually entered like a relation. He really -could no longer continue to board there, now that he caught them behind -the doors. -</p> - -<p> -“Come in!” cried Rose’s voice. “So it is you, Octave. Oh! there is no -harm.” -</p> - -<p> -She had not, however, donned her dressing-gown, and her arms and -shoulders, as white and delicate as milk, were bare. Sitting attentively -before the looking-glass, she was rolling her golden hair in little curls. -</p> - -<p> -“So you are making yourself beautiful again to-night,” said Octave, -smiling. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, for it is the only amusement I have,” replied she. “It occupies me. -You know I have never been a good housewife; and, now that Gasparine will -be here—Eh? don’t you think that curl suits me? It consoles me a -little when I am well dressed and I feel that I look pretty.” -</p> - -<p> -As the dinner was not ready, he told her of his having left “The Ladies’ -Paradise.” He invented a story about some other situation he had long been -on the look-out for; and thus reserved to himself a pretext for explaining -his intention of taking his meals elsewhere. She was surprised that he -could give up a berth which held out great promises for the future. But -she was busy at her glass, and did not catch all he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Look at this red place behind my ear. Is it a pimple?” -</p> - -<p> -He had to examine the nape of her neck, which she held toward him with her -grand tranquillity of a sacred woman. -</p> - -<p> -“It is nothing,” said he. “You must have dried yourself too roughly.” -</p> - -<p> -And, when he had assisted her to put on her dressing-gown of blue satin -embroidered with silver, they passed into the diningroom. As early as the -soup, Octave’s departure from the Hédouins’ was discussed. Campardon did -not repress his surprise, whilst Gasparine smiled faintly; they were quite -at their ease together. -</p> - -<p> -At dessert Gasparine sharply rated Lisa, who had answered her mistress -rudely respecting a piece of cheese that was missing. The maid became very -humble. Gasparine had already taken the household arrangements in hand, -and had mastered the servants; with a word, she could make Victoire -herself quake amongst her saucepans. So that Rose looked at her gratefully -with moist eyes; she was respected, now that her cousin was there, and her -longing was to get her also to leave “The Ladies’ Paradise,” and take -charge of Angèle’s education. -</p> - -<p> -“Come,” murmured she, caressingly, “there is quite enough to occupy you -here. Angèle, implore your cousin, tell her how pleased you will be.” -</p> - -<p> -The young girl implored her cousin, whilst Lisa nodded her head -approvingly. But Campardon and Gasparine remained grave; no, no, they must -wait, one should not take a leap in life without having something to hold -on to. -</p> - -<p> -The evenings in the drawing-room were now delightful. The architect had -altogether given up going out. That evening he had arranged to hang some -engravings, which had come back from the framer, in Gasparine’s room. Then -Octave, finding himself alone with Rose, resumed his story, and explained -that at the end of the month he would be obliged to take his meals away -from them. She seemed surprised, but her thoughts were elsewhere; she -returned at once to her husband and her cousin, whom she heard laughing. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! how it amuses them to hang those pictures! What would you have! -Achille no longer stays out; for a fortnight past he has not left me of an -evening. No, no more going to the café, no more business meetings, no more -appointments; and you remember how anxious I used to be, when he was out -after midnight! Ah! it is a great ease to my mind now! I at least have him -by me.” -</p> - -<p> -“No doubt, no doubt,” murmured Octave. -</p> - -<p> -And she continued speaking of the economy of the new arrangement. -Everything went on better in the house, they laughed from morning to -night. -</p> - -<p> -“When I see Achille pleased,” resumed she, “I am satisfied.” Then, -returning to the young man’s affairs, she added: -</p> - -<p> -“So you are really going to leave us? You should stay, though, as we are -all going to be so happy.” -</p> - -<p> -He recommenced his explanations. She comprehended, and lowered her eyes: -the young fellow would indeed interfere with their family effusions, and -she herself felt a certain relief at his departure, no longer requiring -him, moreover, to keep her company of an evening. He had to promise to -come and see her very often. -</p> - -<p> -“There you are, Mignon, supplicating Heaven!” cried Campardon joyously. -“Wait a moment, cousin; I will help you down.” -</p> - -<p> -They heard him take her in his arms and place her somewhere. There was a -short silence, and then a faint laugh. But the architect was already -entering the drawing-room; and he held his hot cheek to his wife. -</p> - -<p> -“It is done, my duck. Kiss your old pet for working so well.” But the -architect suddenly became virtuously indignant. He had just noticed that, -instead of studying her Scripture history, the child was reading the -“Gazette de France,” lying on the table. -</p> - -<p> -“Angèle,” said he, severely, “what are you doing? This morning, I crossed -out that article with a red pencil. You know very well that you are not to -read what is crossed out.” -</p> - -<p> -“I was reading beside it, papa,” replied the young girl. -</p> - -<p> -All the same, he took the paper away from her, complaining in low tones to -Octave of the demoralization of the press. That number contained the -report of another abominable crime. If families could no longer admit the -“Gazette de France,” then what paper could they take in? And he was -raising his eyes to heaven, when Lisa announced the Abbé Mauduit. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! yes,” observed Octave, “he asked me to tell you he was coming.” -</p> - -<p> -The priest entered smiling. As the architect had forgotten to take off his -paper cross, he stammered in the presence of that smile. The Abbé Mauduit -happened to be the person whose name was kept a secret and who had the -matter in hand. -</p> - -<p> -“The ladies did it,” murmured Campardon, preparing to take the cross off. -“They are so fond of a joke.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, no, keep it,” exclaimed the priest, very amiably. “It is well where -it is, and we will replace it by a more substantial one.” -</p> - -<p> -He at once asked after Rose’s health, and greatly approved Gasparine’s -coming to live with one of her relations. Single young ladies ran so many -risks in Paris! He said these things with all his good priest’s unction, -though fully aware of the real state of affairs. -</p> - -<p> -When the Abbé Mauduit appeared, Octave had wished the Campardons good -evening. As he crossed the ante-room, he heard Angèle’s voice in the now -dark dining-room, she having also made her escape. -</p> - -<p> -“Was it about the butter that she was kicking up such a row?” asked she. -</p> - -<p> -“Of course,” answered another voice, which was Lisa’s. “She’s as spiteful -as can be. You saw how she went on at me at dinner time. But I don’t care -a fig! One must pretend to obey, with a person of that sort, but that -doesn’t prevent our amusing ourselves all the same!” -</p> - -<p> -Then, Angèle must have thrown her arms round Lisa’s neck, for her voice -was drowned in the servant’s bosom. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, yes. And, afterward, so much the worse! it’s you I love!” -</p> - -<p> -Octave was going up to bed, when a desire for fresh air brought him down -again. It was not more than ten o’clock, he would stroll as far as the -Palais-Royal. Now, he was single again: both Valérie and Madame Hédouin -had declined to have anything to do with his heart, and he had been too -hasty in restoring Marie to Jules, the only woman he had succeeded in -conquering, and without having done anything for it. -</p> - -<p> -As he was placing his foot on the pavement, a woman’s voice called to him; -and he recognized Berthe at the door of the silk warehouse, the shutters -of which were being put up by the porter. -</p> - -<p> -“Is it true, Monsieur Mouret?” asked she, “have you really left ‘The -Ladies’ Paradise?’” -</p> - -<p> -He was surprised that it was already known in the neighborhood. -</p> - -<p> -The young woman had called her husband. As he intended speaking to -Monsieur Mouret on the morrow, he might just as well do so then. And -Auguste abruptly offered Octave in a sour way a berth in his employ. The -young man, taken unawares, hesitated and was on the point of refusing, -thinking of the small importance of the house. But he caught sight of -Berthe’s pretty face, as she smiled at him with her air of welcome, with -the gay glance he had already twice encountered, on the day of his arrival -and the day of the wedding. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! yes,” said he resolutely. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> -CHAPTER X. -</h2> - -<p class="pfirst"> -<span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HEN, Octave found -himself brought into closer contact with the Duveyriers. Often, when -Madame Duveyrier returned from a walk, she would come through her -brother’s shop, and stop to talk a minute with Berthe; and, the first time -that she saw the young man behind one of the counters, she amiably -reproached him for not keeping his word, reminding him of his -long-standing promise to come and see her one evening, and try his voice -at the piano. She wished to give a second performance of the “Benediction -of the Daggers,” at one of her first Saturdays at home of the coming -winter, but with two extra tenors, something very complete. -</p> - -<p> -“If it does not interfere with your arrangements,” said Berthe one day to -Octave, “you might go up to my sister-in-law’s after dinner. She is -expecting you.” -</p> - -<p> -She maintained toward him the attitude of a mistress, simply polite. -</p> - -<p> -“The fact is,” he observed, “I intended arranging these shelves this -evening.” -</p> - -<p> -“Do not trouble about them,” resumed she, “there are plenty of people here -to do that. I give you your evening.” -</p> - -<p> -Toward nine o’clock, Octave found Madame Duveyrier awaiting him in her -grand white and gold drawing-room. Everything was ready, the piano open, -the candles lit. A lamp placed on a small round table beside the -instrument only imperfectly lighted the room, one half of which remained -in shadow. Seeing the young woman alone, he thought it proper to ask after -Monsieur Duveyrier. She replied that he was very well; his colleagues had -selected him to report on a very grave affair, and he had just gone out to -obtain certain information respecting it. -</p> - -<p> -“You know; the affair of the Rue de Provence,” said she simply. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! he has that in hand!” exclaimed Octave. -</p> - -<p> -It was a scandal which was the talk of all Paris, quite a clandestine -prostitution, young girls of fourteen procured for high personages. -Clotilde added: -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, it gives him a great deal of work. For a fortnight past all of his -evenings have been taken up with it.” -</p> - -<p> -“No doubt! for he too has the cure of souls,” murmured he, embarrassed by -her clear glance. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! sir, shall we begin?” resumed she. “You will excuse my importunity, -will you not? And open your lungs, display all your powers, as Monsieur -Duveyrier is not here. You, perhaps, heard him boast that he did not like -music.” -</p> - -<p> -She put such contempt into the words, that he thought it right to risk a -faint laugh. Moreover, it was the sole bitter feeling which at times -escaped her before other people with respect to her husband, when -exasperated by his jokes on her piano, she who was strong enough to hide -the hatred and the physical repulsion with which he inspired her. -</p> - -<p> -“How can one help liking music?” remarked Octave with an air of ecstasy, -so as to make himself agreeable. -</p> - -<p> -Then she seated herself on the music-stool. A collection of old tunes was -open on the piano. She had already selected an air out of “Zémire and -Azor,” by Grétry. As the young man could only just manage to read his -notes, she made him go through it first in a low voice. Then she played -the prelude, and he sang the first verse. -</p> - -<p> -“Perfect!” cried she with delight, “a tenor, there is not the least doubt -of it, a tenor! Pray continue, sir.” -</p> - -<p> -Octave, feeling highly flattered, gave out the two other verses. She was -beaming. For three years past she had been seeking for one! And she told -him of all her vexations, Monsieur Trublot, for instance; for it was a -fact, the causes of which were worth studying, that there were no longer -any tenors among the young men of society: no doubt it was owing to -tobacco. -</p> - -<p> -“Be careful, now!” resumed she, “we must put some expression into it. -Begin it boldly.” -</p> - -<p> -Her cold face assumed a languid expression, her eyes turned toward him -with an expiring air. Thinking that she was warming, he became more -animated also, and considered her charming. -</p> - -<p> -“You will get along very well,” said she. “Only, accentuate the time more. -See, like this.” -</p> - -<p> -And she herself sang, repeating quite twenty times: “More trembling than -you,” bringing out the notes with the rigor of a sinless woman, whose -passion for music was not more than skin deep in her mechanism. Her voice -rose little by little, filling the room with shrill cries, when they both -suddenly heard some one exclaiming loudly behind their backs: -</p> - -<p> -“Madame! madame!” -</p> - -<p> -She started, and, recognizing her maid Clémence, exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -“Eh? what?” -</p> - -<p> -“Madame, your father has fallen with his face in his papers, and he -doesn’t move. We are so frightened.” -</p> - -<p> -Then, without exactly understanding, and greatly surprised, she quitted -the piano and followed Clémence. Octave, who was uncertain whether to -accompany her, remained walking about the drawing-room. However, after a -few minutes of hesitation and embarrassment, as he heard people rushing -about and calling out distractedly, he made up his mind, and, crossing a -room that was in darkness, he found himself in Monsieur Vabre’s -bedchamber. -</p> - -<p> -“He is in a fit,” said Octave. “He must not be left there. We must get him -onto his bed.” -</p> - -<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> -<img src="images/0227.jpg" alt="0227 " width="100%" /> -</div> - -<p> -But Madame Duveyrier was losing her head. Emotion was little by little -seizing upon her cold nature. She kept repeating: -</p> - -<p> -“Do you think so? do you think so? O good heavens! O my poor father!” -</p> - -<p> -Hippolyte, a prey to an uneasy feeling, to a visible repugnance to touch -the old man, who might go off in his arms, did not hurry himself. Octave -had to call to him to help. Between them they laid him on the bed. -</p> - -<p> -“Bring some warm water!” resumed the young man, addressing Julie. “Wipe -his face.” -</p> - -<p> -Now, Clotilde became angry with her husband. Ought he to have been away? -What would become of her if anything happened? -</p> - -<p> -“To leave me alone like this!” continued Clotilde. “I don’t know, but -there must be all sorts of affairs to settle. O my poor father!” -</p> - -<p> -“Would you like me to inform the other members of the family?” asked -Octave. “I can fetch your brothers. It would be prudent.” She did not -answer. Two big tears swelled her eyes, whilst Julie and Clémence tried to -undress the old man. -</p> - -<p> -“Madame,” observed Clémence, “one side of him is already quite cold.” -</p> - -<p> -This increased Madame Duveyrier’s anger. She no longer spoke, for fear of -saying too much before the servants. Her husband did not, apparently, care -a button for their interests! Had she only been acquainted with the law! -And she could not remain still; she kept walking up and down before the -bed. Octave, whose attention was diverted by the sight of the tickets, -looked at the formidable apparatus which covered the table; it was a big -oak box, filled with a series of cardboard tickets, scrupulously sorted, -the stupid work of a lifetime. Just as he was reading on one of these -tickets: “‘Isidore Charbotel;’ ‘Exhibition of 1857,’ ‘Atalanta;’ -‘Exhibition of 1859,’ ‘The Lion of Androcles;’ ‘Exhibition of 1861,’ -‘Portrait of Monsieur P——-,’” Clotilde went and stood before -him and said resolutely, in a low voice: -</p> - -<p> -“Go and fetch him.” -</p> - -<p> -And, as he evinced his surprise, she seemed, with a shrug of her -shoulders, to cast off the story about the report of the affair of the Rue -de Provence, one of those eternal pretexts which she invented for her -acquaintances. She let out everything in her emotion. -</p> - -<p> -“You know, Rue de la Cerisaie. All our friends know it.” -</p> - -<p> -He wished to protest. -</p> - -<p> -“I assure you, madame———-” -</p> - -<p> -“Do not stand up for him!” resumed she. “I am only too pleased; he can -stay there. Ah! good heavens! if it were not for my poor father!” -</p> - -<p> -Octave bowed. Julie was wiping Monsieur Vabre’s eye with the corner of a -towel; but the ink had dried, and the smudge remained in the skin, which -was marked with livid streaks. Madame Duveyrier told her not to rub so -hard; then she returned to the young man, who was already at the door. -</p> - -<p> -“Not a word to any one,” murmured she. “It is needless to upset the house. -Take a cab, call there, and bring him back in spite of everything.” -</p> - -<p> -When he had gone, she sank onto a chair beside the patient’s pillow. He -had not recovered consciousness; his breathing alone, a deep and painful -breathing, troubled the mournful silence of the chamber. Then, the doctor -not arriving, finding herself alone with the two servants, who stood by -with frightened looks, she burst out into a terrible fit of sobbing, in a -paroxysm of deep grief. -</p> - -<p> -It was at the Café Anglais that uncle Bachelard had invited Duveyrier to -dine, without any one knowing why, perhaps for the pleasure of treating a -counselor, and of showing him that tradespeople knew how to spend their -money. He had also invited Trublot and Gueulin—four men and no women—for -women do not know how to eat; they interfere with the truffles, and spoil -digestion. -</p> - -<p> -“Drink away! drink away, sir!” he kept saying to Duveyrier; “when wines -are good they never intoxicate. It’s the same with food; it never does one -harm so long as it’s delicate.” -</p> - -<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> -<img src="images/0231.jpg" alt="0231 " width="100%" /> -</div> - -<p> -He, however, was careful. On this occasion he was posing for the -gentleman, shaved and brushed up, and with a rose in his buttonhole, -restraining himself from breaking the crockery, which he was in the habit -of doing. Trublot and Gueulin eat of everything. The uncle’s theory seemed -the right one, for Duveyrier, who suffered a great deal from his stomach, -had drank considerably, and had returned to the crayfish salad, without -feeling the least indisposed, the red blotches on his face merely assuming -a purple hue. -</p> - -<p> -Then, when the coffee had been served, with some liquors and cigars, and -all the attendants had withdrawn, uncle Bachelard suddenly leaned back in -his chair and heaved a sigh of satisfaction. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah!” declared he, “one is comfortable.” -</p> - -<p> -Trublot and Gueulin, also leaning back in their chairs, opened their arms. -</p> - -<p> -“Completely!” said the one. -</p> - -<p> -“Up to the eyes!” added the other. -</p> - -<p> -Duveyrier, who was puffing, nodded his head, and murmured: -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! the crayfish!” -</p> - -<p> -All four looked at each other and chuckled. Their skins were well-nigh -bursting, and they were digesting in the slow and selfish way of four -worthy citizens who had just had a tuckout away from the worries of their -families. It had cost a great deal; no one had partaken of it with them; -there was no girl there to take advantage of their emotion; and they -unbuttoned their waistcoats, and laid their stomachs as it were on the -table. With eyes half-closed, they even avoided speaking at first, each -one absorbed in his solitary pleasure. Then, free and easy, and whilst -congratulating themselves that there were no women present, they placed -their elbows on the table, and, with their excited faces close together, -they did nothing but talk incessantly of them. -</p> - -<p> -“As for myself, I am disabused,” declared uncle Bachelard. “It is after -all far preferable to be virtuous.” -</p> - -<p> -This conversation tickled Duveyrier’s fancy. He was sipping kummel, whilst -sharp twinges of sensuality kept shooting across his stiff, magisterial -face. -</p> - -<p> -“For my part,” said he, “I cannot bear vice. It shocks me. Now, to be able -to love a woman, one must esteem her, is it not so? Love could not have a -nobler mission. In short, a virtuous mistress, you understand me? Then, I -do not deny I might succumb.” -</p> - -<p> -“Virtuous mistresses! but I have had no end of them!” cried Bachelard. -“They are a far greater nuisance than the others; and such sluts too! -Wenches who, behind your back, lead a life fit to give you every possible -ailment! Take, for instance, my last, a very respectable-looking little -lady, whom I met at a church door. I set her up in business at Les Ternes -as a milliner, just to give her a position. She never had a single -customer, though. Well, sir, believe me or not as you like, but she had -the whole street to sleep with her.” -</p> - -<p> -Gueulin was chuckling, whilst his carroty hair bristled more than usual, -and his forehead was bathed in perspiration from the heat of the candles. -He murmured, as he sucked his cigar: -</p> - -<p> -“And the other, the tall one at Passy, who had a sweet-stuff shop. And the -other, she who had a room over there, with her outfits for orphan -children. And the other, the captain’s widow, you surely remember her! she -used to show the mark of a sword-thrust on her body. All, uncle, all of -them played the fool with you! Now, I may tell you, may I not? Well! I had -to defend myself one night against the one with the sword-thrust. She -wanted to, but I was not such a fool! One never knows what such women may -lead a man to!” -</p> - -<p> -Bachelard seemed annoyed. He recovered his good humor, however, and, -blinking his heavy eyelids, said: -</p> - -<p> -“My little fellow, you can have them all; I have something far better.” -</p> - -<p> -And he refused to explain himself further, delighted at having awakened -the others’ curiosity. Yet he was burning to be indiscreet, to let them -imagine what a treasure he possessed. -</p> - -<p> -“A young girl,” said he at length, “and a genuine one, on my word of -honor.” -</p> - -<p> -“Impossible!” cried Trublot, “Such things no longer exist.” -</p> - -<p> -“Of good family!” asked Duveyrier. -</p> - -<p> -“Of most excellent family,” affirmed the uncle. “Imagine something -stupidly chaste. A mere chance. She submitted quite innocently. She has no -idea of anything even now.” -</p> - -<p> -Gueulin listened to him in surprise; then, making a skeptical gesture, -murmured: -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! yes, I know.” -</p> - -<p> -“What? you know!” said Bachelard angrily. “You know nothing at all, my -little fellow; no one knows anything. She is for yours truly. She is -neither to be seen nor touched. Hands off!” And, turning to Duveyrier, he -added: -</p> - -<p> -“You will understand, sir, you who have feeling. It affects me so much -going there, that when I come away I feel quite young again. In short, it -is a cozy little nook for me, where I can recruit myself after all those -hussies. And, if you only knew, she is so polite and so fresh, with a skin -like a flower, and a figure not in the least thin, sir, but as round and -firm as a peach!” -</p> - -<p> -The counselor’s red blotches were almost bleeding through the rush of -blood to his face. Trublot and Gueulin looked at the uncle; and they felt -a desire to slap him as they beheld him with his set of false teeth, which -were too white, and at the corners of which the saliva trickled. -</p> - -<p> -Bachelard became quite tender-hearted, and resumed, licking the brim of -his liquor glass with the tip of his tongue: -</p> - -<p> -“After all, my sole dream is to make the child happy! But there, my -pot-belly tells me I am getting old; I’m like a father to her. I give you -my word! if I found a very good young fellow, I’d give her to him, oh! in -marriage, not otherwise.” -</p> - -<p> -“You would make two happy ones,” murmured Duveyrier sentimentally. -</p> - -<p> -It was almost stifling in the small apartment. A glass of chartreuse that -had been upset had made the tablecloth all sticky, and it was also covered -with cigar-ash. The gentlemen were in want of some fresh air. -</p> - -<p> -“Would you like to see her?” abruptly asked the uncle, rising from his -seat. -</p> - -<p> -They consulted one another with a glance. Well, yes, they were willing, if -it could afford him any pleasure; and their affected indifference hid a -gluttonous satisfaction at the thought of going and finishing their -dessert with the old fellow’s little one. -</p> - -<p> -“Let’s get along, uncle! Which is the way?” -</p> - -<p> -Bachelard became quite grave again, tortured by his ridiculously vain -longing to exhibit Fifi, and by his terror of being robbed of her. For a -moment he looked to the left, then to the right, in an anxious way. At -length he boldly said: -</p> - -<p> -“Well! no, I won’t.” -</p> - -<p> -And he obstinately adhered to his determination, without caring a straw -for Trublot’s chaff, nor even deigning to explain by some pretext his -sudden change of mind. They therefore had to turn their steps in -Clarisse’s direction. As it was a splendid evening, they decided to walk -all the way, with the hygienic idea of hastening their digestion. Then -they started off down the Rue de Richelieu, pretty steady on their legs, -but so full that they considered the pavements far too narrow. -</p> - -<p> -The house in the Rue de la Cerisaie seemed asleep amidst the solitude and -the silence of the street. Duveyrier was surprised at not seeing any -lights in the third-floor windows. Trublot said, with a serious air, that -Clarisse had no doubt gone to bed to wait for them; or perhaps, Gueulin -added, she was playing a game of bézique in the kitchen with her maid. -They knocked. The gas on the staircase was burning with the straight and -immovable flame of a lamp in some chapel. Not a sound, not a breath. But, -as the four men passed before the room of the doorkeeper, the latter -hastily came out. -</p> - -<p> -“Sir, sir, the key!” -</p> - -<p> -Duveyrier stood stock-still on the first step. -</p> - -<p> -“Is madame not there, then?” asked he. -</p> - -<p> -“No, sir. And, wait a moment, you must take a candle with you.” -</p> - -<p> -As he handed him the candlestick, the doorkeeper allowed quite a chuckle -of ferocious and vulgar jocosity to pierce through the exaggerated respect -depicted on his pallid countenance. Neither of the two young men nor the -uncle had said a word. It was in the midst of this silence, and with bent -backs, that they ascended the stairs in single file, the interminable -noise of their footsteps resounding up each mournful flight. At their -head, Duveyrier, who was puzzling himself trying to understand, lifted his -feet with the mechanical movement of a somnambulist; and the candle, which -he held with a trembling hand, cast their four shadows on the wall, -resembling in their strange ascent a procession of broken puppets. -</p> - -<p> -On the third floor, a faintness came over him, and he was quite unable to -find the key-hole. Trublot did him the service of opening the door. The -key turned in the lock with a sonorous and reverberating noise, as though -beneath the vaulted roof of some cathedral. -</p> - -<p> -“Jupiter!” murmured he, “it doesn’t seem as if the place was inhabited.” -</p> - -<p> -“It sounds empty,” said Bachelard. -</p> - -<p> -“A little family vault,” added Gueulin. -</p> - -<p> -They entered. Duveyrier passed first, holding high the candle. The -ante-room was empty, even the hat-pegs had disappeared. The drawing-room -and the parlor were also empty: not a stick of furniture, not a curtain at -the windows, not even a brass rod. Duveyrier stood as one petrified, first -looking down at his feet, then raising his eyes to the ceiling, and then -searchingly gazing at the walls, as though he had been seeking the hole -through which everything had disappeared. -</p> - -<p> -“What a clear out!” Trublot could not help exclaiming. -</p> - -<p> -“Perhaps the place is going to be done up,” observed Gueulin, without as -much as a smile. “Let us see the bed-room. The furniture may have been -moved in there.” -</p> - -<p> -But the bed-room was also bare, with that ugly and chilly bareness of -plaster walls from which the paper has been torn off. Where the bedstead -had stood, the iron supports of the canopy, also removed, left gaping -holes; and, one of the windows having been left partly open, the air from -the street filled the apartment with the humidity and the unsavoriness of -a public square. -</p> - -<p> -“My God! my God!” stuttered Duveyrier, at length able to weep, unnerved by -the sight of the place where the friction of the mattresses had rubbed the -paper off the wall. -</p> - -<p> -Uncle Bachelard became quite paternal. -</p> - -<p> -“Courage, sir!” he kept repeating. “The same thing happened to me, and I -did not die of it. Honor is safe, damn it all!” -</p> - -<p> -The counselor shook his head, and went into the dressing-room, and then -into the kitchen. The evidence of the disaster increased. The piece of -American cloth behind the washstand in the dressing-room had been taken -down, and the hooks had been removed from the kitchen. -</p> - -<p> -“No, that is too much, it is pure capriciousness!” said Gueulin, in -amazement. “She might have left the hooks.” -</p> - -<p> -“I can’t stand this any longer, you know,” Trublot ended by declaring, as -they visited the drawing-room for the third time. -</p> - -<p> -“Really! I would give ten sous for a chair.” -</p> - -<p> -All four came to a halt, standing. -</p> - -<p> -“When did you see her last?” asked Bachelard. -</p> - -<p> -“Yesterday, sir!” exclaimed Duveyrier. -</p> - -<p> -Gueulin wagged his head. By Jove! it had not taken long, it had been -neatly done. But Trublot uttered an exclamation. He had just caught sight -of a dirty collar and a damaged cigar on the mantelpiece. -</p> - -<p> -“Do not complain,” said he, laughing, “she has left you a keepsake. It is -always something.” -</p> - -<p> -Duveyrier looked at the collar with sudden emotion. Then he murmured: -</p> - -<p> -“Twenty-five thousand francs’ worth of furniture, there was twenty-five -thousand francs’ worth! Well! no, no, it is not that which I regret!” -</p> - -<p> -“You will not have the cigar?” interrupted Trublot. “Then, allow me to. It -has a hole in it, but I can stick a cigarette paper over that.” -</p> - -<p> -He lighted it at the candle which the counselor was still holding, and, -letting himself drop down against the wall, he added: -</p> - -<p> -“So much the worse! I must sit down a while on the floor. My legs will not -bear me any longer.” -</p> - -<p> -“I beg of you,” at length said Duveyrier, “to explain to me where she can -possibly be.” -</p> - -<p> -Bachelard and Gueulin looked at each other. It was a delicate matter. -However, the uncle came to a manly decision, and he told the poor fellow -everything, all Clarisse’s goings-on, her continual escapades, the lovers -she picked up behind his back, at each of their parties. She had no doubt -gone off with the last one, big Payan, that mason of whom a Southern town -wished to make an artist. Duveyrier listened to the abominable story with -an expression of horror. He allowed this cry of despair to escape him: -</p> - -<p> -“There is, then, no honesty left on earth!” -</p> - -<p> -And suddenly opening his heart, he told them all he had done for her. -</p> - -<p> -“Leave her alone!” exclaimed Bachelard, delighted with the counselor’s -misfortune, “she will humbug you again. There is nothing like virtue, -understand! It is far better to take a little one devoid of malice, as -innocent as the child just born. Then, there is no danger, one may sleep -in peace.” -</p> - -<p> -Trublot meanwhile was smoking, leaning against the wall with his legs -stretched out. He was gravely reposing, the others had forgotten him. -</p> - -<p> -“If you particularly want it, I can find the address for you,” said he. “I -know the maid.” -</p> - -<p> -Duveyrier turned round, surprised at that voice which seemed to issue from -the boards; and, when he beheld him smoking all that remained of Clarisse, -puffing big clouds of smoke, in which he fancied he beheld the twenty-five -thousand francs’ worth of furniture evaporating, he made an angry gesture -and replied: -</p> - -<p> -“No, she is unworthy of me. She must beg my pardon on her knees.” -</p> - -<p> -“Hallo! here she is coming back!” said Gueulin, listening. -</p> - -<p> -And some one was indeed walking in the ante-room, whilst a voice said: -“Well! what’s up? is every one dead?” And Octave appeared. He was quite -bewildered by the open doors and the empty rooms. But his amazement -increased still more when he beheld the four men in the midst of the -denuded drawing-room, one sitting on the floor, and the other three -standing up, and only lighted by the meager candle which the counselor was -holding, like a taper at church. A few words sufficed to inform him of -what had occurred. -</p> - -<p> -“It isn’t possible!” cried he. -</p> - -<p> -“Did they not tell you anything, then, down-stairs?” asked Gueulin. -</p> - -<p> -“No, nothing at all; the doorkeeper quietly watched me come up. Ah! so -she’s gone! It does not surprise me. She had such queer hair and eyes!” -</p> - -<p> -He asked some particulars, and stood talking a minute, forgetful of the -sad news which he had brought. Then, turning abruptly toward Duveyrier, he -said: -</p> - -<p> -“By the way, it’s your wife who sent me to fetch you. Your father-in-law -is dying.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah!” simply observed the counselor. -</p> - -<p> -“Old Vabre!” murmured Bachelard. “I expected as much.” -</p> - -<p> -“Pooh! when one gets to the end of one’s reel!” remarked Gueulin, -philosophically. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, it’s best to take one’s departure,” added Trublot, in the act of -sticking a second cigarette paper round his cigar. -</p> - -<p> -The gentlemen at length decided to leave the empty apartment. Octave -repeated he had given his word of honor that he would bring Duveyrier back -with him at once, no matter what state he was in. The latter carefully -shut the door, as though he had left his dead affections there; but, -down-stairs, he was overcome with shame, and Trublot had to return the key -to the doorkeeper. Then, outside on the pavement, there was a silent -exchange of hearty hand-shakes; and, directly the cab had driven off with -Octave and Duveyrier, Uncle Bachelard said to Gueulin and Trublot, as they -stood in the deserted street: -</p> - -<p> -“Jove’s thunder! I must show her to you.” -</p> - -<p> -For a minute past he had been stamping about, greatly excited by the -despair of that big noodle of a counselor, bursting with his own -happiness, with that happiness which he considered due to his own deep -malice, and which he could no longer contain. -</p> - -<p> -“You know, uncle,” said Gueulin, “if it’s only to take us as far as the -door again, and then to leave us——” -</p> - -<p> -“No, Jove’s thunder! you shall see her. It will please me. True, it’s -nearly midnight, but she shall get up if she’s in bed. You know, she’s the -daughter of a captain, Captain Menu, and she has a very respectable aunt, -born at Villeneuve, near Lille, on my word of honor! Messieurs Mardienne -Brothers, of the Rue Saint-Sulpice, will give her a character. Ah! Jove’s -thunder! we’re in need of it; you’ll see what virtue is!” -</p> - -<p> -And he took hold of their arms, Gueulin on his right, Trublot on his left, -putting his best foot forward as he started off in quest of a cab, to -arrive there the sooner. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile Octave briefly related to the counselor all he knew of Monsieur -Vabre’s attack, without hiding that Madame Duveyrier was acquainted with -the address of the Rue de la Cerraise. After a pause, the counselor asked, -in a doleful voice: -</p> - -<p> -“Do you think she will forgive me?” -</p> - -<p> -Octave remained silent. The cab continued to roll along, in the obscurity -lighted up every now and then by a ray from a gas-lamp. Just as they were -reaching their destination Duveyrier, tortured with anxiety, put another -question: -</p> - -<p> -“The best thing for me to do for the present is to make it up with my -wife; do you not think so?” -</p> - -<p> -“It would, perhaps, be wise,” replied the young man, obliged to answer. -</p> - -<p> -Then, Duveyrier felt the necessity of regretting his father-in-law. He was -a man of great intelligence, with an incredible capacity for work. -However, they would, very likely, be able to set him on his legs again. In -the Rue de Choiseul, they found the street-door open, and quite a group -gathered before Monsieur Gourd’s room. But they held their tongues, -directly they caught sight of Duveyrier. -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” inquired the latter. -</p> - -<p> -“The doctor is applying mustard poultices to Monsieur Vabre,” replied -Hippolyte. “Oh! I had such difficulty to find him!” -</p> - -<p> -Up-stairs in the drawing-room, Madame Duveyrier came forward to meet them. -She had cried a great deal, her eyes sparkled beneath the swollen lids. -The counselor, full of embarrassment, opened his arms; and he embraced her -as he murmured: -</p> - -<p> -“My poor Clotilde!” -</p> - -<p> -Surprised at this unusual display of affection, she drew back. Octave had -kept behind; but he heard the husband add, in a low voice: -</p> - -<p> -“Forgive me, let us forget our grievances on this said occasion. You see, -I have come back to you, and for always. Ah! I am well punished!” -</p> - -<p> -She did not reply, but disengaged herself. Then, resuming in Octave’s -presence her attitude of a woman who desires to ignore everything, she -said: -</p> - -<p> -“I should not have disturbed you, my dear, for I know how important that -inquiry respect the Rue de Provence is. But I was all alone, I felt that -your presence was necessary. My poor father is lost. Go and see him: you -will find the doctor there.” -</p> - -<p> -When Duveyrier had gone into the next room, she drew near to Octave, who, -so as not to appear to be listening to them, was standing in front of the -piano. -</p> - -<p> -“Was he there?” asked she briefly. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, madame.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then, what has happened? what is the matter with him?” -</p> - -<p> -“The person has left him, madame, and taken all the furniture away with -her. I found him with nothing but a candle between the bare walls.” -</p> - -<p> -Clothilde made a gesture of despair. She understood. An expression of -repugnance and discouragement appeared on her beautiful face. It was not -enough that she had lost her father, it seemed as though this misfortune -was also to serve as a pretext for a reconciliation with her husband! She -knew him well, he would be forever after her, now that there would be -nothing elsewhere to protect her; and, in her respect for every duty, she -trembled at the thought that she would be unable to refuse to submit to -the abominable service. For an instant, she looked at the piano. Bitter -tears came to her eyes, as she simply said to Octave: -</p> - -<p> -“Thank you, sir.” -</p> - -<p> -They both passed in turn into Monsieur Vabre’s bed-chamber. Duveyrier, -looking very pale, was listening to Doctor Juillerat, who was giving him -some explanations in a low voice. It was an attack of serous apoplexy; the -patient might last till the morrow, but there was not the slightest hope -of his recovery. Clotilde just at that moment entered the room; she heard -this giving over of the patient, and dropped into a chair, wiping her eyes -with her handkerchief, already soaked with tears, and twisted up, and -almost reduced to a pulp. She, however, found strength to ask the doctor -if her poor father would recover consciousness. The doctor had his doubts; -and, as though he had penetrated the object of the question, he expressed -the hope that Monsieur Vabre had long since put his affairs in order. -</p> - -<p> -“I presume the family knows what has happened,” said Doctor Juillerat. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! no,” murmured Clotilde. “I received such a shock! My first thought -was to send Monsieur Mouret for my husband.” -</p> - -<p> -Duveyrier gave her another glance. Now they understood each other. He -slowly approached the bed, and examined Monsieur Vabre, stretched out in -his corpse-like stiffness, and whose immovable face was streaked with -yellow blotches. One o’clock struck. The doctor talked of withdrawing, for -he had tried all the usual remedies, and could do nothing more. He would -call again early on the morrow. At length, he was going off with Octave, -when Madame Duveyrier called the latter back. -</p> - -<p> -“We will wait till to-morrow,” said she, “you can send Berthe to me under -some pretext; I will also get Valérie to come, and they shall break the -news to my brothers. Ah! poor things, let them sleep in peace this night! -There is quite enough with our having to watch in tears.” -</p> - -<p> -And she and her husband remained alone with the old man, whose death -rattle chilled the chamber. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> -CHAPTER XI. -</h2> - -<p class="pfirst"> -<span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen Octave went -down on the morrow at eight o’clock, he was greatly surprised to find the -entire house acquainted with the attack of the night before, and the -desperate condition of the landlord. The house, however, was not concerned -about the patient: it was solely interested in what he would leave behind -him. -</p> - -<p> -The Pichons were seated before some basins of chocolate in their little -dining-room. Jules called Octave in. -</p> - -<p> -“I say, what a fuss there will be if he dies like that! We shall see -something funny. Do you know if he has made a will?” -</p> - -<p> -The young man, without answering, asked them where they had heard the -news. Marie had learnt it at the baker’s; moreover, it crept from story to -story, and even to the end of the street by means of the servants. Then, -after slapping Lilitte, who was soaking her fingers in her chocolate, the -young woman observed in her turn: -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! all that money! If he only thought of leaving us as many sous as -there are five franc pieces. But there is no fear of that!” -</p> - -<p> -And, as Octave took his departure, she added: -</p> - -<p> -“I have finished your books, Monsieur Mouret. Will you please take them -when convenient?” -</p> - -<p> -He was hastening down-stairs, feeling anxious, as he recollected having -promised Madame Duveyrier to send Berthe to her before anything was known -of the matter, when, on the third floor, he came in contact with -Campardon, who was going out. -</p> - -<p> -“Well!” said the latter, “so your employer is coming in for something. I -have heard that the old fellow has close upon six hundred thousand francs, -besides this property. You see, he spent nothing at the Duveyriers’, and -he had a good deal left of what he brought from Versailles, without -counting the twenty and odd thousand francs received in rent from the -house. Eh? it is a fine cake to share, when there are only three to -partake of it!” -</p> - -<p> -Whilst talking thus, he continued to go down behind Octave. But, on the -second floor, they met Madame Juzeur, who was returning from seeing what -her little maid, Louise, could be doing of a morning, taking over an hour -to fetch four sous’ worth of milk. She entered naturally into the -conversation, being very well informed. -</p> - -<p> -“It is not known how he has settled his affairs,” murmured she in her -gentle way. “There will perhaps be some bother.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, well!” said the architect, gayly, “I should like to be in their -shoes. It would not take long. One makes three equal shares, each takes -his own, and there you are!” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Juzeur leant over the balusters, then raised her head, and made -sure that no one else was on the stairs. At length, lowering her voice, -she observed: -</p> - -<p> -“And if they did not find what they expected? There are rumors about.” -</p> - -<p> -The architect opened his eyes wide with amazement. Then he shrugged his -shoulders. Pooh! mere gossip! Old Vabre was a miser who hid his savings in -worsted stockings. And he went off, as he had an appointment at Saint-Roch -with the Abbé Mauduit. -</p> - -<p> -“My wife complains of you,” said he to Octave, looking back, after going -down three stairs. “Call in and have a chat with her now and then.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Juzeur detained the young man a moment. -</p> - -<p> -“And I, how you neglect me! I thought you loved me a little. When you -come, I will let you taste a liquor from the West Indies, oh! something -delicious!” -</p> - -<p> -Octave at length entered the warehouse. The first person he beheld, seated -at the cashier’s desk, was Madame Josserand under arms, polished up and -laced, and her hair already done. Close beside her, Berthe, who had no -doubt come down in haste, in the charming deshabille of a dressing-gown, -appeared to be very excited. But they stopped talking on catching sight of -him, and the mother looked at him with a terrible eye. -</p> - -<p> -“So, sir,” said she, “it is thus that you love the firm? You enter into -the plots of my daughter’s enemies.” -</p> - -<p> -He wished to defend himself, and state the facts of the case. But she -prevented him from speaking, she accused him of having spent the night -with the Duveyriers, looking for the will, to insert all sorts of things -in it. And, as he laughed, asking what interest he could have had in doing -such a thing, she resumed: -</p> - -<p> -“Your own interest, your own interest. In short! sir, you should have -hastened to inform us, as God was good enough to make you a witness of the -occurrence. When one thinks that, had it not been for me, my daughter -might still have been in ignorance of it! Yes, she would have been -despoiled, had I not run down-stairs the moment I heard the news. Eh! your -interest, your interest, sir, who knows? Though Madame Duveyrier is very -faded, yet some people, not over particular, may still find her good -enough, perhaps.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! mamma!” said Berthe, “Clotilde, who is so virtuous!” But Madame -Josserand shrugged her shoulders pityingly. -</p> - -<p> -“Pooh! you know very well people will do anything for money!” Octave was -obliged to relate to them all the circumstances of the attack. They -exchanged glances: as the mother said, there had evidently been maneuvers. -Clotilde was really too kind to wish to spare her relations’ emotions! -However, they let the young man start on his work, though still having -their doubts as to his conduct in the matter. Their lively explanation -continued: -</p> - -<p> -“And who will pay the fifty thousand francs agreed upon in the contract?” -said Madame Josserand. “We are not likely to see a single one of them when -he is dead and buried.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! the fifty thousand francs!” murmured Berthe, in an embarrassed way. -“You know he only agreed, as we did, to pay ten thousand francs every six -months. The time is not up yet; the best thing is to wait.” -</p> - -<p> -“Wait! wait till he comes back and brings them to you, I suppose! You -great blockhead, do you want to be robbed? No, no! you must demand them at -once out of the estate. As for us, we are still alive, thank goodness! It -is not known whether we shall pay or not; but with him it is another -thing; as he is dead, he must pay.” -</p> - -<p> -And she made her daughter swear not to yield, for she had never given any -one the right to take her for a fool. -</p> - -<p> -“Go up too!” she ended by exclaiming, in a cry from her heart: “Auguste is -too weak; they are sure to be taking him in again!” Then Berthe went off -up-stairs. Octave, who was arranging the display in the window, had -listened to what they said. When he found himself alone with Madame -Josserand, and saw her moving in the direction of the door, he asked her, -in the hope of a holiday, whether it would not be proper to close the -warehouse. -</p> - -<p> -“Whatever for?” inquired she. “Wait till he is dead. It is not worth while -losing a day’s sale.” -</p> - -<p> -Then, as he folded a remnant of poppy-colored silk, she added, to soften -the harshness of her words: -</p> - -<p> -“Only, you may as well, I think, not put any red in the window.” -</p> - -<p> -Up on the first floor, Berthe found Auguste with his father. The room had -in no way changed since the day before; it was still dampish and silent, -save for the same long and painful death-rattle. The old man on the bed -continued perfectly rigid, in a complete annihilation of all feeling and -movement. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! my dear, what a frightful visitation!” said Clotilde, going up to and -embracing Berthe. -</p> - -<p> -“Why not have informed us of it?” asked the latter, with her mother’s -affected pout. “We were there to help you to bear it.” Auguste, with a -glance, begged her to keep silent. The moment for quarreling had not -arrived. They could wait. Doctor Juillerat, who had already been once, was -to call again; but he still gave no hope; the patient would not live -through the day. Auguste was informing his wife of this, when Théophile -and Valérie entered in their turn. Clotilde at once advanced to meet them, -and repeated, as she embraced Valérie: -</p> - -<p> -“What a frightful visitation, my dear!” -</p> - -<p> -But Théophile was in a state of great excitement. “So, now,” said he, -without even lowering his voice, “when one’s father is dying one only -hears of it through the charcoal dealer. Did you, then, require time to -rifle his pockets?” -</p> - -<p> -Duveyrier rose up indignantly. But Clotilde motioned him aside, whilst she -answered her brother very gently: -</p> - -<p> -“Unhappy man! is our father’s death agony not even sacred to you? Look at -him; behold your work! yes, it is you who have brought him to this, by -refusing to pay your overdue rent.” -</p> - -<p> -Valérie burst out laughing. -</p> - -<p> -“Come,” said she, “you are not speaking seriously.” -</p> - -<p> -“What! not speaking seriously!” resumed Clotilde, filled with indignation. -“You know how much he liked to collect his rents. Had you really wished to -kill him, you could not have acted in a better way.” -</p> - -<p> -And they came to high words; they reciprocally accused one another of -wishing to lay hands on the estate, when Auguste, still sullen and calm, -requested them to recollect where they were. -</p> - -<p> -“Keep quiet! You have plenty of time. It is not decent at such a moment.” -</p> - -<p> -Then the others, admitting the justice of this observation, settled -themselves around the bed. A deep silence ensued; again nothing but the -death rattle was heard in the moist atmosphere of the room. Berthe and -Auguste were at the dying man’s feet; Valérie and Théophile, being the -last comers, had been obliged to seat themselves at the table, some -distance off; whilst Clotilde was at the head of the bed, with her husband -behind her; and she had pushed her son Gustave, whom the old man adored, -close up against the edge of the mattresses. They now all looked at one -another, without exchanging a word. But the bright eyes, the -tightly-compressed lips, told of the hidden thoughts, the surmises full of -anxiety and irritation, which were passing in the pale-faced heads of -those next-of-kin, with their red and swollen eyelids. The sight of the -collegian, so close to the bed, especially exasperated the two young -couples; for it was self-evident that the Duveyriers were counting on -Gustave’s presence to influence the grandfather’s affections if he -recovered consciousness. -</p> - -<p> -Moreover, this maneuver was a proof that in all probability no will -existed; and the Vabres glanced covertly at the old iron safe which the -retired notary had brought with him from Versailles and had had fixed in -the wall of his bed-chamber. He had a mania for shutting up all sorts of -things inside it. No doubt the Duveyriers had hastened to ransack this -safe during the night. Théophile had the idea of laying a trap for them to -compel them to speak. -</p> - -<p> -“I say,” he at length went and whispered in the counselor’s ear, “suppose -we send for the notary. Papa may wish to alter his will.” -</p> - -<p> -Duveyrier did not at first hear. As he felt excessively bored in that -room, he had allowed his thoughts all through the night to revert to -Clarisse. The wisest thing would decidedly be to make it up with his wife; -but then the other was so funny, when she threw her chemise over her head, -with the gesture of a street-arab; and with his vague glance fixed on the -dying man, he still had visions of her, and would have given everything to -have had her with him again. Théophile was obliged to repeat his question. -</p> - -<p> -“I have questioned Monsieur Renandin,” at length answered the counselor in -a bewildered way. “There is no will.” -</p> - -<p> -“But here?” -</p> - -<p> -“No more here than at the notary’s.” -</p> - -<p> -Théophile looked at Auguste; was it not sufficiently evident? the -Duveyriers had searched everything. Clotilde saw the glance, and was -greatly irritated with her husband. What was the matter with him? was -grief sending him to sleep? And she added: -</p> - -<p> -“Papa has no doubt done what he thought right. We shall learn it only too -soon, heaven knows!” -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, the hours passed away. At eleven o’clock they had a diversion, -Doctor Juillerat again calling. The patient’s condition was becoming worse -and worse, it was now even doubtful whether he would be able to recognize -his children before dying. And the sobbing started afresh when Clémence -announced the Abbe Mand-uit. Clotilde, who rose to meet him, was the first -to receive his consolations. He appeared to be deeply affected by the -family visitation; he had an encouraging word for each. Then, with much -tact, he talked of the rites of religion, insinuating that they should not -let that soul pass away without the succor of the Church. -</p> - -<p> -“I had thought of it,” murmured Clotilde. -</p> - -<p> -But Théophile raised objections. The father was not at all religious; he -had at one time very advanced ideas, for he was a reader of Voltaire’s -works; in short, the best thing was to do nothing, as they were unable to -consult him. In the heat of the discussion, he even added: -</p> - -<p> -“It is as though you brought the sacrament to that piece of furniture.” -</p> - -<p> -The three women compelled him to leave off. They were all trembling with -emotion, and said that the priest was right, whilst they excused -themselves for not having sent for him before, through the confusion in -which the catastrophe had plunged them. Monsieur Vabre would certainly -have consented had he been able to speak, for he had a horror of acting -different to other people. Moreover, the ladies would take the -responsibility on their own shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -“It should be done, if only on account of the neighbors,” repeated -Clotilde. -</p> - -<p> -“No doubt,” said the Abbé Mauduit, who hastened to give his approval. “A -man of your father’s position should set a good example.” -</p> - -<p> -Auguste had no opinion either way. But Duveyrier, aroused from his -recollections of Clarisse, whose way of putting on her stockings with one -leg in the air he was just then thinking of, energetically demanded the -sacraments. They were absolutely necessary; not a member of the family -should die without them. Doctor Juillerat, who had discreetly moved on one -side, hiding his freethinker’s disdain, then went up to the priest, and -said familiarly to him, in a whisper, the same as to a colleague often -encountered under similar circumstances: -</p> - -<p> -“Be quick; you have no time to lose.” -</p> - -<p> -The priest hastened to take his departure. He announced that he would -bring the sacrament and the extreme unction, so as to be prepared for -every emergency. And Théophile, in his obstinacy, murmured: -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, well! so dying people are now made to receive the communion in spite -of themselves!” -</p> - -<p> -But they all at once experienced a great emotion. On regaining her place, -Clotilde had found the dying man with his eyes wide open. She could not -repress a faint cry; the others hastened to the bedside; and the old -fellow’s glance slowly wandered round the circle, without the least -movement of his head. Doctor Juillerat, with an air of surprise, came and -bent over his patient, to follow this last crisis. -</p> - -<p> -“Father, it is us; do you know us?” asked Clotilde. -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Vabre looked at her fixedly; then his lips moved, but not a sound -came from them. They were all pushing one another, wishing to secure his -last word. Valérie, who found herself right at the rear, and obliged -therefore to stand on tip-toe, said, harshly: -</p> - -<p> -“You are stifling him. Do move away from him. If he desired anything, no -one would be able to know.” -</p> - -<p> -The others had to draw on one side. And Monsieur Vabre’s eyes were indeed -looking round the room. -</p> - -<p> -“He wants something, that is certain,” murmured Berthe. -</p> - -<p> -“Here’s Gustave,” said Clotilde. “You see him, do you not? He has come -expressly from school to embrace you. Kiss your grandfather, my child.” -</p> - -<p> -As the youngster drew back, frightened, she kept him there with her arm, -whilst she waited a smile on the dying man’s distorted features. But -Auguste, who had been watching his eyes, declared that he was looking at -the table; no doubt he wished to write. This caused quite a shock. All -tried to be first. They brought the table to the bedside, and fetched some -paper, an inkstand, and a pen. Then they raised him, propping him up with -three pillows. The doctor gave his consent to all this with a simple blink -of the eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“Give him the pen,” said Clotilde, quivering, and without leaving go of -Gustave, whom she continued to hold toward him. -</p> - -<p> -Then came a solemn moment. The relations, pressed round the bed, awaited -anxiously. Monsieur Vabre, who did not appear to recognize any one, had -let the penholder drop from his fingers. For a moment his eyes wandered -over the table, on which was the oak box full of tickets. Then, slipping -from off his pillows, and falling forward like a piece of rag, he -stretched out his arm in a final effort, and, plunging his hand among the -tickets, he dabbled about in the happy manner of a baby playing with -something dirty. He brightened up, and wished to speak, but he could only -lisp one syllable, ever the same, one of those syllables into which brats -in swaddling-clothes put a whole host of sensations. -</p> - -<p> -“Ga—ga—ga—ga——-” -</p> - -<p> -It was to the work of his life, to his great statistical study, that he -was bidding good-bye. Suddenly his head rolled over. He was dead. -</p> - -<p> -“I expected as much,” murmured the doctor, who, seeing how scared the -relations were, carefully laid him out, and closed his eyes. -</p> - -<p> -Was it possible? Auguste had removed the table; they all remained chilled -and dumb. Soon their sobs burst forth. Well! as there was nothing more to -hope for, they would manage all the same to share the fortune. And -Clotilde, after hastening to send Gustave away, to spare him the frightful -spectacle, gave free vent to her tears, her head leaning against Berthe, -who was sobbing the same as Valérie. Standing at the window, Théophile and -Auguste were roughly rubbing their eyes. But Duveyrier, especially, -exhibited a most extraordinary amount of grief, stifling heart-rending -sobs in his handkerchief. No, really, he could not live without Clarisse; -he would rather die at once, like the other one there; and the loss of his -mistress, coming in the midst of all this mourning, caused him immense -bitterness. -</p> - -<p> -“Madame,” announced Clémence, “here are the sacraments.” -</p> - -<p> -Abbé Mauduit appeared on the threshold. Behind his shoulder, one caught a -glimpse of the face full of curiosity of a boy chorister. On beholding the -display of grief, the priest questioned the doctor with a glance, whilst -the latter extended his arms, as though to say it was not his fault. So, -after mumbling a few prayers, Abbé Mauduit withdrew with an air of -embarrassment, taking his paraphernalia along with him. -</p> - -<p> -“It is a bad sign,” said Clémence to the other servants, standing in a -group at the door of the ante-room. “The sacraments are not to be brought -for nothing. You will see they will be back in the house before another -year goes by.” -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Vabre’s funeral did not take place till the day after the morrow. -Duveyrier, all the same, had inserted in the circulars announcing his -demise, the words, “provided with the sacraments of the Church.” -</p> - -<p> -As the warehouse did not open on that day, Octave was free. This holiday -delighted him, as, for a long time past, he had wished to put his room -straight, alter the position of some of the furniture, and arrange his few -books in a little bookcase he had bought second-hand. He had risen earlier -than usual, and was just finishing what he was about toward eight o’clock -on the morning of the funeral, when Marie knocked at the door. She had -brought him back a heap of books. -</p> - -<p> -“As you do not come for them,” said she, “I am delighted to take the -trouble to return them to you.” -</p> - -<p> -But she blushingly refused to enter, shocked at the idea of being in a -young man’s room. Their intimate relations had, moreover, completely -ceased, in quite a natural manner, because he had not returned to her. And -she remained quite as affectionate with him, always greeting him with a -smile whenever they met. -</p> - -<p> -Octave was very merry that morning. He wished to tease her. -</p> - -<p> -“So it is Jules who won’t let you come into my room?” he kept saying. “How -do you get on with Jules now? Is he amiable? Yes, you know what I mean. -Answer now!” -</p> - -<p> -She laughed, and was not at all scandalized. -</p> - -<p> -“Why, of course! whenever you take him out, you treat him to vermouth, and -tell him things which send him home like a madman. Oh I he is too amiable. -You know, I don’t ask for so much. Still, I prefer it should take place at -home than elsewhere, that’s very certain.” -</p> - -<p> -She became serious again, and added: -</p> - -<p> -“Here, I have brought you back your Balzac, I was not able to finish it. -It’s too sad. That gentleman has nothing but disagreeable things to tell -one!” -</p> - -<p> -When Octave was dressed, he remembered his promise to go and see Madame -Campardon. He had two good hours to while away, the funeral being timed -for eleven o’clock, and he thought of utilizing his morning in making a -few calls in the house. Rose received him in bed: he apologized, fearing -that he disturbed her; but she herself called him in. They saw so little -of him, and she was so delighted at having some one to talk to. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! my dear child,” declared she at once, “it is I who ought to be below, -nailed up between four planks!” -</p> - -<p> -Yes, the landlord was very lucky, he had finished with existence. And -Octave, surprised at finding her a prey to such melancholy, asked her if -she felt worse. -</p> - -<p> -“No, thank you. It is always the same. Only there are times when I have -had enough of it. Achille has been obliged to have a bed put up in his -work-room, because it annoyed me whenever he moved in the night. And you -know that Gasparine has yielded to our entreaties, and has left the -drapery establishment. I am very grateful to her, she nurses me so -tenderly! Ah! I could no longer live were it not for all these kind -affections around me!” -</p> - -<p> -Just then, Gasparine, with her submissive air of a poor relation, fallen -to the rank of a servant, brought her a cup of coffee and some bread and -butter. She helped her to raise herself, propped her up against some -cushions, and served her on a little tray covered with a napkin. And Rose, -dressed in a little loose embroidered jacket, ate with a hearty appetite, -amidst the linen, edged with lace. She was quite fresh, looking younger -than ever, and very pretty, with her white skin, and short, fair, curly -hair. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! the stomach is all right, it is not the stomach that is ailing,” she -kept saying, as she soaked her slices of bread and butter. -</p> - -<p> -Two tears dropped into her coffee. Then Gasparine scolded her. -</p> - -<p> -“If you cry, I shall call Achille. Are you not pleased? are you not -sitting there like a queen?” -</p> - -<p> -When Madame Campardon had finished, and she again found herself alone with -Octave, she was quite consoled. Out of coquetry, she again returned to the -subject of death, but with the gentle gayety of a woman idling away the -morning between her warm sheets. Well! she would go off all the same, when -her turn came; only, they were right, she was not unhappy, she could let -herself live; for, in point of fact, they spared her all the main cares of -life. -</p> - -<p> -Then, as the young man rose to leave, she added: -</p> - -<p> -“Now, do try and come oftener? Amuse yourself well, don’t let the funeral -make you too sad. One dies a trifle every day, the thing is to get used to -it.” -</p> - -<p> -It was the little maid Louise who opened the door to Octave at Madame -Juzeur’s, on the same landing. She ushered him into the drawing-room, -looked at him a moment as she laughed in her bewildered sort of way, and -then ended by stating that her mistress was just finishing dressing. -Madame Juzeur appeared almost at once, dressed in black, and looking -gentler and more refined than ever in her mourning. -</p> - -<p> -“I felt sure you would call this morning,” sighed she with a weary air. -“All night long I have been dreaming and seeing you. It is impossible to -sleep, you understand, with that corpse in the house!” -</p> - -<p> -And she admitted that she had got up three times in the night to look -under the furniture. -</p> - -<p> -“But you should have called me!” said the young man, gallantly. “Two in a -bed are never frightened.” -</p> - -<p> -She assumed a charming air of shame. -</p> - -<p> -“Hold your tongue, it’s naughty!” -</p> - -<p> -And she held her open hand over his lips. He was naturally obliged to kiss -it. Then she spread the fingers out, laughing the while as though being -tickled. But he, excited by this play, sought to push matters farther. He -had caught hold of her, and was pressing her against his breast, without -her making the least attempt to free herself. -</p> - -<p> -In her determination there was a sort of jesuitical reserve, a fear of the -confessional, a certainty of having her minor sins forgiven, whilst the -great one would cause her no end of unpleasantness with her spiritual -director. Then, there were other unavowed sentiments, her honor and -self-esteem blended together, the coquetry of always having the advantage -of men by never satisfying them, and a shrewd personal enjoyment in being -smothered with kisses, without any after consequences. She liked this -better, and she stuck to it; not a man could flatter himself of having -succeeded with her, since her husband’s cowardly desertion. And she was a -respectable woman! -</p> - -<p> -“No, sir; not one! Ah! I can hold up my head, I can! What a number of -wretched women, in my position, would have misconducted themselves!” -</p> - -<p> -She pushed him gently aside, and rose from the sofa. -</p> - -<p> -“Leave me. It worries me so much, does that corpse downstairs. It seems to -me that the whole house smells of it.” -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile the time for the funeral was approaching. She wished to be at -the church beforehand, so as not to see all the funeral trappings. But, -while escorting him to the door, she recollected having mentioned her -liquor; she therefore made him come in again, and fetched the bottle and a -couple of glasses herself. It was a very sweet cream, with a perfume of -flowers. When she had drank of it, a greediness, like that of a little -girl, gave an air of languid delight to her face. She could have lived on -sugar; vanilla and rose-scented sweeties had the same effect on her as an -amorous caress. -</p> - -<p> -“It will sustain us,” said she. -</p> - -<p> -And, when he kissed her on the mouth in the ante-room, she closed her -eyes. Their sugary lips seemed to be melting like sweetmeats. -</p> - -<p> -It was close upon eleven o’clock. The coffin had not been brought down for -exhibition, as the undertaker’s men; after wasting their time at a -neighboring wine shop, had not finished putting up the hangings. Octave -went to have a look out of curiosity. The porch was already closed in at -the back by a large black curtain, but the men had still to fix the -hangings over the door. And outside on the pavement a group of -maid-servants were gossiping with their noses in the air; whilst -Hippolyte, dressed in deep mourning, hastened on the work with a dignified -air. -</p> - -<p> -Then Madame Gourd, who had remained in her arm-chair on account of her -poor legs, rose painfully on her feet. As she was quite unable to get even -as far as the church, Monsieur Gourd had told her to be sure and salute -the landlord’s corpse when it passed their room. It was a matter of duty. -She went to the door with a mourning cap on her head, and curtesied as the -coffin went by. -</p> - -<p> -At Saint-Roch, Doctor Juillerat made a show of not going inside during the -ceremony. There was, however, a tremendous crowd, and quite a group of men -preferred to remain on the steps. The weather was very mild—a superb -June day. And, as they were unable to smoke, their conversation turned -upon politics. The principal door was left open, and at moments the sound -of the organs issued from the church, which was draped in black and filled -with lighted tapers, looking like so many stars. -</p> - -<p> -“You know that Monsieur Thiers will stand for our district next year,” -announced Léon Josserand, in his grave way. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah!” said the doctor. “Of course you will not vote for him—you are -a Republican?” -</p> - -<p> -The young man, whose opinions cooled down the more Madame Dambreville -introduced him into good society, curtly answered: -</p> - -<p> -“Why not? He is the declared adversary of the Empire.” -</p> - -<p> -Then a heated discussion ensued. Léon talked of tactics, whilst Doctor -Juillerat stuck to principles. According to the latter, the middle classes -had had their day; they were an obstacle in the road of the Revolution; -now that they had acquired property, they barred the future with greater -obstinacy and blindness than the old nobility. -</p> - -<p> -“You are afraid of everything; you go in for the very worst reaction the -moment you fancy yourself threatened!” -</p> - -<p> -At this Campardon flew into a passion. -</p> - -<p> -“I, sir, have been a Jacobin and an atheist like you. But, thank heaven! -reason came to me. No, I will not even stoop to your Monsieur Thiers. A -blunderhead—a man who amuses himself with chimeras!” -</p> - -<p> -However, all the Liberals present—Monsieur Josserand, Octave, -Trublot even, who did not care a straw, declared that they would vote for -Monsieur Thiers. The official candidate was a great chocolate manufacturer -of the Rue Saint-Honoré, Monsieur Dewinck, whom they chaffed immensely. -This Monsieur Dewinck had not even the support of the clergy, who were -uneasy at his relations with the Tuileries. Campardon, decidedly gone over -to the priests, greeted his name with reserve. Then, suddenly changing the -subject, he exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -“Look here! the bullet which wounded your Garibaldi in the foot ought to -have pierced his heart!” -</p> - -<p> -And, so as not to be seen any longer in the company of these gentlemen, he -entered the church, where the Abbé Mauduit’s shrill voice was responding -to the lamentations of the chanters. -</p> - -<p> -“He sleeps there now,” murmured the doctor, shrugging his shoulders. “Ah! -what a clean sweep ought to be made of it all!” The Roman question -interested him immensely. Then, as Léon reminded them of the words of the -Cabinet Minister to the Senate that the Empire had sprung from the -Revolution, only in order to keep it within bounds, they returned to the -coming elections. All were agreed upon the necessity of giving the Emperor -a lesson; but they were beginning to be troubled with anxiety, they were -already divided respecting the candidates, whose names gave rise to -visions of the red specter at night time. Close to them Monsieur Gourd, -dressed as correctly as a diplomatist, listened with supreme contempt to -what they were saying; he was for the powers that be, pure and simple. -</p> - -<p> -The service was drawing to a close; a long, melancholy wail which issued -from the depths of the church, silenced them. -</p> - -<p> -“<i>Requiescat in pace!</i>” -</p> - -<p> -“<i>Amen!</i>” -</p> - -<p> -Whilst the body was being lowered into the grave at the Père-Lachaise -cemetery, Trublot, who had not let go of Octave’s arm, saw him exchange -another smile with Madame Juzeur. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! yes,” murmured he, “the very unhappy little woman. Anything you like -except that!” -</p> - -<p> -Octave started. What! Trublot also! The latter made a gesture of disdain: -no, not he, one of his friends. And, moreover, everybody who cared for -that kind of thing. -</p> - -<p> -“Excuse me,” added he. “As the old fellow’s now stowed away, I will go and -render Duveyrier an account of something which I undertook to see after -for him.” -</p> - -<p> -The relations were retiring, silent and doleful. Then Trublot detained the -counselor behind the others, to tell him that he had seen Clarisse’s maid; -but he did not know the new address, the maid having left Clarisse the day -before she moved out, after a battle royal. It was the last hope which had -flown. Duveyrier buried his face in his handkerchief, and rejoined the -other relations. -</p> - -<p> -That very evening quarrels commenced, The family found itself in the -presence of a disaster. Monsieur Vabre, with that skeptical carelessness -which notaries occasionally display, had not left any will. All the -furniture was ransacked in vain, and the worst was that there was not a -rap of the expected six or seven hundred thousand francs, neither money, -title-deeds nor shares; they discovered merely seven hundred and -thirty-four francs in ten-sou pieces, the hoard of a silly, paralytic old -man. And undeniable traces, a note-book covered with figures, letters from -stockbrokers, opened the eyes of the next-of-kin, pale with passion, to -the old fellow’s secret vice, an ungovernable passion for gambling, an -unskillful and desperate craving for stock-jobbing, which he hid behind -the innocent mania for his great statistical work. All had been engulfed, -the money he had saved at Versailles, the rents of his house, even the -sous he had sneaked from his children; and, during the latter years, he -had gone to the point of mortgaging the house for one hundred and fifty -thousand francs, at three different periods. The family stood -thunder-stricken before the famous safe, in which it thought the fortune -was locked up, but which simply contained a host of singular things, -broken scraps picked up in the various rooms, pieces of old iron, -fragments of glass, ends of ribbon, jumbled amidst wrecked toys stolen -from young Gustave in bygone days. -</p> - -<p> -Then the most violent recriminations were indulged in. They called the old -fellow a swindler. It was disgraceful to fritter away his money thus, like -a sly person who does not care a straw for any one, and who acts an -infamous comedy in order to get people to continue to coddle him. The -Duveyriers were inconsolable at having boarded him for twelve years, -without once asking him for the eighty thousand francs of Clotilde’s -dowry, of which they had only had ten thousand francs. It was always ten -thousand francs, rejoined Théophile, who had not had a sou of the fifty -thousand promised him at the time of his marriage. But Auguste, in his -turn, complained more bitterly still, reproaching his brother with having -at least secured the interest of the money during three months; whilst he -would never have a shadow of the fifty thousand francs inserted in his -contract. And Berthe, incited by her mother, said some very unpleasant -things with an indignant air at having entered a dishonest family. And -Valérie, bemoaning the rent she had so long been stupid enough to pay the -old chap, for fear of being disinherited, could not stomach it, regretting -the money as though it had been used for an immoral purpose, employed in -supporting debauchery. -</p> - -<p> -For fully a fortnight all these stories formed an exciting topic of -conversation to the occupants of the house. The long and short of it was -that there remained nothing but the building, estimated to be worth three -hundred thousand francs; when the mortgage had been paid off, there would -be about half that sum to divide between Monsieur Vabre’s three children. -It was fifty thousand francs for each; a meager consolation, but they -would have to make the most of it. Théophile and Auguste had already -decided what they would do with their shares. It was settled that the -building should be sold. Duveyrier undertook all the arrangements in his -wife’s name. Then, on the day of the sale, after five or six bids, Maître -Renandin abruptly knocked the house down to Duveyrier for the sum of one -hundred and forty-nine thousand francs. There was not even sufficient to -pay the mortgage. It was the final blow. -</p> - -<p> -One never knew the particulars of the terrible scene which was enacted -that same evening at the Duveyriers’. The solemn walls of the house -stifled the sounds. Théophile most probably called his brother-in-law a -scoundrel: he publicly accused him of having fought over the notary, by -promising to get him appointed a justice of the peace. As for Auguste, he -simply talked of the assize-court, where he wished to drag Maître -Renandin, whose rogueries were the talk of the neighborhood. But, though -one always ignored how it was that the relatives got to the point of -knocking each other about, as rumor said they did, one heard the last -words exchanged on the threshold, words which had an unpleasant ring in -the respectable severity of the staircase. -</p> - -<p> -“Dirty scoundrel!” shouted Auguste. “You sentence people to penal -servitude who have not done nearly so much!” -</p> - -<p> -Théophile, who came out last, held the door, whilst he almost choked with -rage and coughing. . -</p> - -<p> -“Robber! robber! Yes, robber! And you, too, Clotilde; do you hear? -robber!” -</p> - -<p> -He swung the door to so roughly that all the other doors on the staircase -shook. Monsieur Gourd, who was listening, was quite alarmed. He darted a -searching glance at the different floors, but he merely caught sight of -Madame Juzeur’s sharp profile. Arching his back, he returned on tiptoe to -his room, where he resumed his dignified demeanor. One could deny -everything. He, delighted, considered the new landlord in the right. -</p> - -<p> -A few days later there was a reconciliation between Auguste and his -sister. The whole house was amazed. Octave had been seen to go to the -Duveyriers. The counselor, feeling anxious, had agreed not to charge any -rent for the warehouse for five years, thus shutting one of the grumbler’s -mouths. When Théophile learnt this, he went with his wife and had another -row, this time with his brother. So he had sold himself; he had gone over -to the bandits! But Madame Josserand happened to be in the shop, and he -was soon shut up. She plainly advised Valérie not to sell herself any more -than her daughter had sold herself. And Valérie had to beat a retreat, -exclaiming: -</p> - -<p> -“Then, we’re the only ones who get nothing? May the devil take me if I pay -my rent! I’ve a lease. The convict won’t dare to turn us out. And as for -you, my little Berthe, we’ll see one day what it’ll cost to have you!” -</p> - -<p> -The doors banged again. The two families were sworn enemies for life. -Octave, who had rendered some services, was present, and entered into the -private affairs of the family. Berthe almost fainted in his arms, whilst -Auguste was ascertaining whether the customers had overheard anything. -Even Madame Josserand confided in the young man. She, moreover, continued -to judge the Duveyriers very severely. -</p> - -<p> -“The rent is something,” said she. “But I want the fifty thousand francs.” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course, if you paid yours,” Berthe ventured to observe. -</p> - -<p> -The mother did not appear to understand. -</p> - -<p> -“You hear me, I want them! No, no; he must be laughing too much in his -grave, that old scoundrel Vabre. I will not let him boast of having taken -me in. What rascals there are in the world! to promise money one does not -possess! Oh! they will pay you, my daughter, or I will dig him up again -and spit in his face!” -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> -CHAPTER XII. -</h2> - -<p class="pfirst"> -<span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>ne morning that -Berthe happened to be at her mother’s, Adèle came and said with a scared -look that Monsieur Saturnin was there with a man. Doctor Chassagne, the -director of the Asile des Moulineaux, had already warned the parents -several times that he would he unable to keep their son, for he did not -consider him sufficiently mad. And, hearing of the signature which Berthe -had obtained from her brother for the three thousand francs, dreading -being compromised in the matter, he suddenly sent him home to his family. -</p> - -<p> -It created quite a scare. Madame Josserand, who was afraid of being -strangled, wished to argue with the man. But all she could get out of him -was: -</p> - -<p> -“The director told me to inform you that when one is sufficiently sensible -to give money to one’s parents, one is sensible enough to live with them.” -</p> - -<p> -“But he is mad, sir! he will murder us.” -</p> - -<p> -“Anyhow, he is not too mad to sign his name!” answered the man, going off. -</p> - -<p> -However, Saturnin came home very quietly, with his hands in his pockets, -just as though he had returned from a stroll in the Tuileries gardens. He -did not even allude to where he had been staying. He embraced his father, -who was crying, and likewise heartily kissed his mother and his sister -Hortense, whilst they both trembled tremendously. Then, when he caught -sight of Berthe, he was indeed delighted, and caressed her with all the -pretty ways of a little boy. She at once took advantage of his affected -and confused condition to inform him of her marriage. He displayed no -anger, not appearing at first to understand, as though he had forgotten -his former fits of passion. But when she wished to return to her home -down-stairs, he began to howl; he did not mind whether she was married or -not, so long as she remained where she was, always with him and close to -him. Then, seeing her mother’s frightened looks as she ran and locked -herself in another room, it occurred to Berthe to take Saturnin to live -with her. They would be able to find him something to do in the basement -of the warehouse, though it were only to tie up parcels. -</p> - -<p> -That same evening, Auguste, in spite of his evident repugnance, acceded to -Berthe’s desire. They had scarcely been married three months and a secret -disunion was already cropping up between them; it was the collision of two -different constitutions and educations, a surly, fastidious and -passionless husband, and a lively woman who had been reared in the -hot-house of false Parisian luxury, who played fast and loose with -existence, so as to enjoy it all alone like a spoiled and selfish child. -</p> - -<p> -The husband’s main revolts were on account of these too glaring costumes, -the usefulness of which he was unable to see. Why dress himself thus above -one’s means and position in life? What need was there to spend in such a -manner the money that was so necessary for his business? He generally said -that when one sold silks to other women, one should wear woolens oneself. -</p> - -<p> -As a result of matrimony, Berthe was gradually acquiring her mother’s -build. She was growing fatter, and resembled her more than she had ever -done before. She was no longer the girl who did not seem to care about -anything and who quietly submitted to the maternal cuffs; she had grown -into a woman, who was rapidly becoming more obstinate every day, and who -had formed the intention of making everything bow to her pleasure. Auguste -looked at her at times, astounded at such a sudden change. At first, she -had felt a vain joy in throning herself at the cashier’s desk, in a -studied costume of elegant simplicity. Then she had soon wearied of trade, -suffering from constant want of exercise, threatening to fall ill, yet -resigning herself to it all the same, but with the attitude of a victim -who sacrifices her life to the prosperity of her home. And, from that -moment, a struggle at every hour of the day had commenced between her and -her husband. She shrugged her shoulders behind his back, the same as her -mother did behind her father’s; she went again through all the family -quarrels which had disturbed her youth, treating her husband as the -gentleman who had simply got to pay, overwhelming him with that contempt -for the male sex which was, so to say, the basis of her education. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! mamma was right!” she would exclaim after each of their quarrels. -</p> - -<p> -Yet, in the early days, Auguste had tried to please her. He liked peace, -he longed for a quiet little home, he already had his whims like an old -man, and had got thoroughly into the habits of his chaste and economical -bachelor life. His old lodging on the “entresol” no longer sufficing, he -had taken the suite of apartments on the second floor, overlooking the -courtyard, and thought himself sufficiently insane in spending five -thousand francs on furniture. Berthe, at first delighted with her room -upholstered in thuja and blue silk, had shown the greatest contempt for it -after visiting a friend who had just married a banker. Then quarrels arose -with respect to the servants. The young woman, used to the waiting of poor -semi-idiotic girls, who had their bread even cut for them, insisted on -their doing things which set them crying in their kitchens for afternoons -together. Auguste, not particularly tender-hearted as a rule, having -imprudently gone and consoled one, had to turn her out of the place an -hour later on account of madame’s tears, and her request that he should, -choose between her and that creature. -</p> - -<p> -Afterward a wench had come who appeared to have made up her mind to stop. -Her name was Rachel, and she was probably a Jewess, but she denied it, and -let no one know whence she had sprung. She was about twenty-five years -old, with harsh features, a large nose, and very black hair. At first, -Berthe declared that she would not allow her to stop two days; then, in -presence of her dumb obedience, her air of understanding and saying -nothing, she had little by little allowed herself to be satisfied, as -though she had yielded in her turn, and was keeping her for her good -qualities, and also through an unavowed fear. Rachel, who submitted -without a murmur to the hardest tasks, accompanied by dry bread, took -possession of the establishment, with her eyes open and her mouth shut, -like a servant of foresight biding the fatal and foreseen hour when her -mistress would be able to refuse her nothing. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, from the ground floor of the house to the servants’ story, a -great calm had succeeded to the emotions caused by Monsieur Vabre’s sudden -death. The staircase had again become as peaceful as a church; not a -breath issued from behind the mahogany doors, which were forever closed -upon the profound respectability of the various homes. There was a rumor -that Duveyrier had become reconciled with his wife. As for Valérie and -Théophile, they spoke to no one, but passed by stiff and dignified. Never -before had the house exhaled a more strict severity of principles. -Monsieur Gourd, in his cap and slippers, wandered about it with the air of -a solemn beadle. -</p> - -<p> -One evening, toward eleven o’clock, Auguste continued going to the door of -the warehouse, stretching his head out, and glancing up and down the -street. An impatience which had increased little by little was agitating -him. Berthe, whom her mother and sister had fetched away during dinner, -without even giving her time to finish her dessert, had not returned home -after an absence of more than three hours, and in spite of her distinct -promise to be back by closing time. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! good heavens! good heavens!” he ended by saying, clasping his hands -together, and making his fingers crack. -</p> - -<p> -And he stood still before Octave, who was ticketing some remnants of silk -on a counter. At that late hour of the evening, no customer ever appeared -in that out-of-the-way end of the Rue de Choiseul. The shop was merely -kept open to put things straight. -</p> - -<p> -“Surely you know where the ladies have gone?” inquired Auguste of the -young man. -</p> - -<p> -The latter raised his eyes with an innocent and surprised air. -</p> - -<p> -“But, sir, they told you. To a lecture.” -</p> - -<p> -“A lecture, a lecture,” grumbled the husband. “Their lecture was over at -ten o’clock. Respectable women should be home at this hour!” -</p> - -<p> -Then he resumed his walk, casting side glances at his assistant, whom he -suspected of being an accomplice of the ladies, or at least of excusing -them. Octave, also feeling anxious, slyly observed him. He had never -before seen him so nervously excited. What was it all about? And, as he -turned his head, he caught sight of Saturnin at the other end of the shop -cleaning a looking-glass with a sponge dipped in spirit. Little by little, -the family set the madman to do housework, so that he might at least earn -his food. But that evening Saturnin’s eyes sparkled strangely. He crept -behind Octave, and said, in a very low voice: -</p> - -<p> -“Beware of him. He has found a paper. Yes, he has a paper in his pocket. -Look out, if it’s anything of yours!” -</p> - -<p> -And he quickly resumed rubbing his glass. Octave did not understand. For -some time past the madman had been displaying a singular affection for -him, like the caress of an animal yielding to an instinct. Why did he -speak to him of a paper? He had written no letter to Berthe; as yet he -only ventured to look at her with tender glances, watching for an -opportunity of making her some trifling present. It was a tactic he had -adopted after deep reflection. -</p> - -<p> -“Ten minutes past eleven!—damnation! damnation!” suddenly exclaimed -Auguste, who never swore. -</p> - -<p> -But at that very moment the ladies returned. Berthe had on a delicious -dress, of pink silk, embroidered over with white jet, whilst her sister, -always in blue, and her mother, always in mauve, still wore their glaring -and laboriously obtained costumes, altered every season. Madame Josserand, -broad and imposing, entered first, so as at once to nip in the bud the -reproaches which all three had just foreseen, at a council held at the end -of the street, her son-in-law would begin to make. She even deigned to -explain that they were late through having loitered before the -shop-windows. But Auguste, who was very pale, did not utter a single -complaint; he answered curtly; it was evident he was keeping it in and -waiting. For a moment longer, the mother, who felt the coming storm -through her great knowledge of domestic broils, tried to intimidate him; -then she was obliged to go up-stairs, merely adding: -</p> - -<p> -“Good night, my child. And sleep well, you know, if you wish to live -long.” -</p> - -<p> -Directly she had gone, Auguste, losing all patience, forgetting that -Octave and Saturnin were present, withdrew a crumpled paper from his -pocket, and thrust it under Berthe’s nose, whilst he stammered out: -</p> - -<p> -“What’s that?” -</p> - -<p> -Berthe had not even had time to take her bonnet off. She turned very red. -</p> - -<p> -“That?” said she; “why, it’s a bill!” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, a bill! and for false hair, too! Is it possible? for hair! as though -you had none left on your head! But that’s not all. You’ve paid the bill; -tell me, what did you pay it with?” -</p> - -<p> -The young woman, becoming more and more confused, ended by replying: -</p> - -<p> -“With my own money, of course!” -</p> - -<p> -“Your money! but you haven’t any. Some one must have given you some, or -else you have taken it from here. And, listen! I know all; you’re in debt. -I will tolerate what you like; but no debts, understand me, no debts!—never!” -</p> - -<p> -And he put into these words all the horror of a prudent fellow, all his -commercial integrity, which consisted in never owing anything. For a long -while he relieved his pent-up feelings, reproaching his wife with her -constant goings-out, her visits all over Paris, her dresses, her luxury, -which he could not provide for. Was it sensible for people in their -position to stop out till eleven o’clock at night, with pink silk dresses -embroidered with white jet? When one had such tastes as those, one should -bring five hundred thousand francs as a marriage portion. Moreover, he -knew who was the guilty one; it was the silly mother who brought up her -daughters to squander fortunes, without even being able to give them so -much as a chemise on their wedding-day. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t say a word against mamma!” cried Berthe, raising her head and -thoroughly exasperated at last. “No one can reproach her with anything; -she has done her duty. And your family—it’s a nice one! People who -killed their father!” -</p> - -<p> -Octave had buried himself in his tickets, and pretended not to hear. But -he followed the quarrel from out of the corner of his eye, and especially -watched Saturnin, who was all in a tremble, and had left off rubbing the -glass, his fists clenched, his eyes glaring, ready to spring at the -husband’s throat. -</p> - -<p> -“Let us leave our families alone,” resumed the latter. “We have quite -enough with our own home. Listen! you must alter your ways, for I will not -give another sou for all this tomfoolery. Oh! I have quite made up my -mind. Your place is here at the till, in a quiet dress, like a woman who -has some respect for herself. And if you incur any more debts, we’ll see.” -</p> - -<p> -Berthe was almost stifling, in presence of that brutal husband’s foot set -down upon her habits, her pleasures, and her dresses. It was the -extinction of all she loved, of all she had dreamed of when marrying. But, -with a woman’s tactics, she hid the wound from which her heart was -bleeding; she gave a pretext to the passion which was swelling her face, -and repeated more violently than ever: -</p> - -<p> -“I will not permit you to insult mamma!” -</p> - -<p> -Auguste shrugged his shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -“Your mother! Listen? you’re like her, you’re quite ugly, when you put -yourself in that state. Yes, I scarcely know you; it is she herself. On my -word, it quite frightens me!” -</p> - -<p> -At this, Berthe calmed down, and, looking him full in the face, exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -“Only go and tell mamma what you were saying just now, and see how quickly -she’ll show you the door.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! she’ll show me the door!” yelled the husband, in a fury. “Well, then! -I’ll go up and tell her at once.” -</p> - -<p> -And he did indeed move toward the door. It was time he went, for Saturnin, -with his wolf-like eyes, was treacherously advancing to strangle him from -behind. The young woman had dropped into a chair, where she was murmuring, -in a low voice: -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! good heavens! I’d take care not to marry him, if I had my choice over -again!” -</p> - -<p> -Up-stairs, Monsieur Josserand, greatly surprised, answered the door, Adèle -having just gone up to bed. As he was then preparing to pass the night in -addressing wrappers, in spite of the ill-health he had been lately -complaining of, it was with a certain embarrassment, a shame at being -found out, that he ushered his son-in-law into the dining-room; and he -spoke of some pressing work, a copy of the last inventory of the Saint -Joseph glass factory. But, when Auguste deliberately accused his daughter, -reproaching her with running into debt, relating all the quarrel brought -about by the matter of the false hair, the poor old man’s hands were -seized with a nervous trembling. Struck to the heart, he could only manage -to stammer out a few words, whilst his eyes filled with tears. His -daughter in debt, living as he had lived himself, in the midst of constant -matrimonial squabbles! All the unhappiness of his life was then going to -be gone through again in the person of his daughter! And another fear -almost froze him on his chair: he dreaded every minute to hear his -son-in-law broach the money question, demand the dowry, and call him a -thief. No doubt the young man knew everything, as he burst in upon them at -past eleven o’clock at night. -</p> - -<p> -“My wife is going to bed,” stammered he, his head in a whirl. “It is -useless to disturb her, is it not? I am really amazed at the things you -have told me! Poor Berthe is not wicked, though, I assure you. Be -indulgent. I will speak to her. As for ourselves, my dear Auguste, we have -done nothing, I think, which can displease you.” -</p> - -<p> -And he sounded him, so to speak, with his glance, already reassured, as he -saw that he could know nothing as yet, when Madame Josserand appeared on -the threshold of the bed-room. She was in her night-gown, all white and -terrible. Auguste, though greatly excited, drew back. No doubt she had -been listening at the door, for she commenced with a direct thrust. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s not your ten thousand francs you’ve come for, I suppose? There are -still two months before the time they become due. And in two months’ time -we will pay them to you, sir. We don’t die to get out of our engagements.” -</p> - -<p> -This superb assurance completely overwhelmed Monsieur Josserand. However, -Madame Josserand continued dumbfounding her son-in-law by the most -extraordinary declarations, without allowing him time to speak. -</p> - -<p> -“You’re by no means smart, sir. When you’ve made Berthe ill, you’ll have -to call in the doctor, and that will occasion some expense at the -chemist’s, and it will still be you who’ll have to pay. A little while -ago, I went off, when I saw that you were bent on making a fool of -yourself. Do as you like! Beat your wife, my maternal heart is easy, for -God is watching, and retribution is never long in coming!” -</p> - -<p> -At length Auguste was able to state his grievances. He returned to the -constant goings-out, the dresses, and was even so bold as to condemn the -way in which Berthe had been brought up. Madame Josserand listened to him -with an air of supreme contempt. Then, when he had finished, she retorted: -</p> - -<p> -“What you say is so absurd that it does not deserve an answer, my dear -fellow! I’ve my conscience, and that suffices me. A man to whom I confided -an angel! I’ll have nothing more to do with the matter, as I’m insulted. -Settle it between yourselves.” -</p> - -<p> -“But your daughter will end by deceiving me, madame!” exclaimed Auguste, -again overcome with passion. -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand, who was going off, turned round, and looked him full in -the face. -</p> - -<p> -“You’re doing all you can to bring such a thing about, sir.” -</p> - -<p> -And she retired into her room with the dignity of a colossal -triple-breasted Ceres draped in white. -</p> - -<p> -The father kept Auguste a few minutes longer. He was conciliatory, giving -him to understand that with women it was best to put up with everything, -and finally sent him off calmed and resolved to forgive. But when the poor -old man found himself alone again in the dining-room, seated in front of -his little lamp, he burst into tears. It was all over; there was no longer -any happiness; he would never have time enough of a night to address -sufficient wrappers to enable him to assist his daughter clandestinely. -The thought that his child might run into debt crushed him like some -personal fault. And he felt ill; he had just received another blow; -strength would fail him one of those nights. At length, restraining his -tears, he painfully recommenced his work. -</p> - -<p> -Down-stairs in the shop, her face buried in her hands, Berthe had remained -for a while immovable. After putting up the shutters, the porter had -returned to the basement. Then Octave thought he might approach the young -woman. Ever since the husband’s departure, Saturnin had been making signs -to him over his sister’s head, as though inviting him to console her. Now -he was beaming and multiplied his winks; fearing that he was not -understood, he emphasized his advice by blowing kisses into space, with a -child’s overflowing effusion. -</p> - -<p> -“What! you want me to kiss her?” asked Octave by signs. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, yes,” replied the madman, with an enthusiastic nod of the head. -</p> - -<p> -And, when he beheld the young man smiling before his sister, who had -noticed nothing, he seated himself on the floor, behind a counter, hiding, -so as not to be in their way. In the profound silence of the closed -warehouse the gas-jets were still burning with tall flames. There reigned -a death-like peacefulness, a closeness of atmosphere mingled with the -unsavory odor of the dressed silk. -</p> - -<p> -“Do not take it so much to heart, madame, I beg of you,” said Octave, in -his caressing tones. -</p> - -<p> -She started at finding him so close to her. -</p> - -<p> -“Excuse me, Monsieur Octave. It is not my fault that you assisted at this -painful scene. And I must ask you to excuse my husband, for he could not -have been very well this evening. You know that in all families there are -little unpleasantnesses——” -</p> - -<p> -Sobs choked her utterance. The mere idea of extenuating her husband’s -faults before the world had brought on a copious flood of tears, which -quite unnerved her. Saturnin raised his anxious face on a level with the -counter; but he dived down again directly he saw Octave take hold of his -sister’s hand. -</p> - -<p> -“I beg of you, madame, summon up a little courage,” said the assistant. -</p> - -<p> -“No, I cannot help it,” stammered she. “You were there—you heard -everything. For ninety-five francs’ worth of hair! As though all women did -not wear false hair now! But he knows nothing—he understands -nothing. He knows no more about women than the Grand Turk; he has never -had anything to do with them, no never, Monsieur Octave! Ah! I am very -miserable!” -</p> - -<p> -She said all this in her feverish spite. A man whom she pretended she had -married for love, and who would soon allow her to go without a chemise! -Did she not fulfill her duties? Had he the least negligence to reproach -her with? If he had not flown into a passion on the day when she asked him -for some hair, she would never have been reduced to the necessity of -paying for it out of her own pocket! And for the least thing there was the -same story over again; she could never express a wish, desire the most -insignificant article of dress, without coming into contact with his -ferocious sullenness. She naturally had her pride, so she no longer asked -for anything, preferring to go without necessaries rather than to -humiliate herself to no purpose. Thus, for a fortnight past, she had been -ardently longing for a fancy set of ornaments which she had seen with her -mother in a jeweler’s window in the Palais-Royal. -</p> - -<p> -“You know, three stars in paste for the hair. Oh! a mere trifle—a -hundred francs, I think. Well! although I spoke of them from morning till -night, don’t imagine that my husband understood!” -</p> - -<p> -Octave would never have dared to hope for such an opportunity. He hastened -matters. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, yes, I know. You mentioned the subject several times in my presence. -And, dear me! madame, your parents received me so well; you yourself have -welcomed me so kindly, that I thought I might venture——” -</p> - -<p> -As he spoke he withdrew from his pocket an oblong box, in which the three -stars were sparkling on some cotton wool. Berthe had risen from her seat, -deeply affected. -</p> - -<p> -“But it is impossible, sir. I will not—you were very wrong indeed.” -</p> - -<p> -He pretended to be very simple, inventing various pretexts. In the South -such things were done constantly. And, besides, the ornaments were of no -value whatever. She had turned quite rosy, and was no longer weeping, -whilst her eyes, fixed on the box, acquired a fresh luster from the -sparkling of the imitation gems. -</p> - -<p> -“I beg of you, madame. Just to show me that you are satisfied with my -work.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, really, Monsieur Octave; do not insist. You pain me.” -</p> - -<p> -Saturnin had reappeared, and he looked at the jewels in ecstasy, as though -he were beholding some reliquary. But his sharp ear heard Auguste’s -returning footsteps. He warned Berthe by making a slight noise with his -tongue. Then the latter came to a decision just as her husband was about -to enter. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! listen,” murmured she rapidly, popping the box into her pocket, -“I’ll say that my sister Hortense made me a present of them.” -</p> - -<p> -Auguste gave orders for the gas to be turned out, and then went up with -her to bed, without saying a word about the quarrel, delighted at heart at -finding her all right again and very lively, as though nothing had taken -place between them. The warehouse became wrapped in intense darkness; and, -just as Octave was also retiring, he felt hot hands squeezing his own -almost sufficient to crush them in the obscurity. It was Saturnin, who -slept in the basement. -</p> - -<p> -“Friend—friend—friend,” repeated the madman, with an outburst -of wild tenderness. -</p> - -<p> -Disconcerted in his expectations, Octave little by little became seized -with a young and passionate desire for Berthe. If he had at first been -merely following his old plan, his wish to succeed by the aid of women, he -now no longer beheld in her the employer simply, whose possession would -place the whole establishment in his hands; he desired above all the -Parisian, that adorable creature of luxury and grace, which he had never -had an opportunity of tasting at Marseilles; he felt a sudden hunger for -her little gloved hands, her tiny feet encased in high-heeled boots, her -delicate neck hidden by gewgaws, even for the questionable unseen, the -make-shifts which, he suspected, were covered by her gorgeous costumes; -and this sudden attack of passion went so far as to get the better of his -shrewd economical nature to the extent of causing him to squander in -presents and all sorts of other expenses the five thousand francs which he -had brought with him from the South, and had already doubled by financial -operations which he never mentioned to anybody. -</p> - -<p> -On the morrow of the quarrel, Octave, delighted at having prevailed on the -young woman to accept his present, thought that it would be well for him -to ingratiate himself with the husband. Therefore, as he took his meals at -his employer’s table—the latter being in the habit of feeding his -assistants, so as always to have them at hand—he showed him the -utmost attention, listened to him at desserts and warmly approved all he -said. He even went so far in private as to appear to sympathize with his -complaints against his wife, pretending, too, to watch her, and making him -little reports. Auguste felt greatly touched; he admitted one night to the -young man that he had been on the point of discharging him, under the idea -that he was conniving with his mother-in-law. -</p> - -<p> -“You understand me, you do!” he would say to the young man. “I merely want -peace. Beyond that I don’t care a hang, virtue excepted, of course, and -providing my wife doesn’t carry off the cash-box. Eh? am I not reasonable? -I don’t ask her for anything extraordinary?” -</p> - -<p> -And Octave lauded his wisdom, and they celebrated together the sweetness -of an uneventful existence, year after year, always the same, passed in -measuring off silk. One evening he had alarmed Auguste by reverting to his -dream of vast modern bazars, and by advising him, as he had advised Madame -Hédouin, to purchase the adjoining house, so as to enlarge his premises. -Auguste, whose head was already splitting between his four counters, had -looked at him with the frightened air of a tradesman accustomed to -dividing farthings into four, that he had hastened to withdraw his -suggestion and to go into raptures over the honest security of small -dealings. -</p> - -<p> -Days passed by; Octave was making his little nest in the place, a cozy -nest lined with wool which would keep him nice and warm. The husband -esteemed him; Madame Josserand herself, with whom, however, he avoided -being too polite, looked at him encouragingly. As for Berthe, she was -becoming charmingly familiar with him. But his great friend was Saturnin, -whose dumb affection he felt was increasing daily—a faithful dog’s -devotion which grew as his longing for the young woman became more -intense. Toward every one else the madman displayed a gloomy jealousy; a -man could not approach his sister without his becoming at once uneasy, -curling up his lips, and preparing to bite. But if, on the contrary, -Octave leant freely toward her, and caused her to laugh with the soft and -tender laughter of a happy mistress, he laughed himself with delight, and -his face reflected a little of their sensual joy. The poor creature seemed -to feel a gratitude full of happiness for the chosen lover. He would -detain the latter in all the corners, casting mistrustful glances about; -then, if he found they were alone, he would speak to him of her, always -repeating the same stories in broken phrases. -</p> - -<p> -“When she was little, she had tiny limbs as large as that; and already -plump, and quite rosy, and so gay; then, she used to sprawl about on the -floor. It amused me; I would go down on my knees and watch her. Then, -bang! bang! bang! she would kick me in the stomach, and I would be so -pleased, oh! so pleased!” -</p> - -<p> -Octave thus learnt all about Berthe’s childhood, with its little ailments, -its playthings, its growth of a charming, uncontrolled little creature. -</p> - -<p> -His eyes lighted up; he laughed and cried, just as though these events had -occurred the day before. From his broken sentences the history of this -strange affection could be spun together: his poor, half-witted devotion -at the little patient’s bedside, when she had been given up by the -doctors, his heart and body devoted to the dying darling, whom he nursed -in her nudity with all the tenderness of a mother; his affection and his -desires had been arrested there, checked forevermore by this drama of -suffering, from the shock of which he never recovered; and, from that -time, in spite of the ingratitude which followed the recovery, Berthe -remained everything to him, a mistress before whom he trembled, a child -and a sister whom he had saved from death, an idol which he worshiped with -a jealous adoration. So that he pursued the husband with the furious -hatred of a displeased lover, never at a loss for ill-natured remarks as -he opened his heart to Octave. -</p> - -<p> -“He’s got his eye bunged up again. His headache’s becoming a nuisance!—You -heard him dragging his feet about yesterday—Look, there he is -squinting into the street. Eh? isn’t he a fool?—Dirty beast, dirty -beast!” -</p> - -<p> -And Auguste could scarcely move without angering the madman. Then would -come the disquieting proposals. -</p> - -<p> -“If you like, we’ll bleed him like a pig between us.” -</p> - -<p> -Octave would calm him. Then, on his quiet days, Saturnin would go from -Octave to the young woman, with an air of delight, repeating what one had -said about the other, doing their errands, and acting like a continual -bond of tenderness between them. He would have thrown himself on the floor -at their feet, to serve them as a carpet. -</p> - -<p> -Berthe had not again alluded to the present. She did not seem to notice -Octave’s trembling attentions, but treated him as a friend, without the -least confusion. He had never before been so careful in his dress, and he -was ever caressing her with his eyes of the color of old gold, and whose -velvety softness he deemed irresistible. -</p> - -<p> -One day, however, she experienced a great emotion. On returning from a -dog-show, Octave beckoned to her to descend to the basement; and there -handed her a bill, amounting to sixty-two francs, for some embroidered -stockings which had been brought during her absence. She turned quite -pale, and in a cry that came from her heart, at once asked: -</p> - -<p> -“Good heavens! has my husband seen this?” -</p> - -<p> -He hastened to set her mind at rest, telling her what trouble he had had -to get hold of the bill under Auguste’s very nose. Then, in an embarrassed -way, he was obliged to add in a low voice: -</p> - -<p> -“I paid it.” -</p> - -<p> -Then she made a show of feeling in her pockets, and, finding nothing, said -simply: -</p> - -<p> -“I will pay you back. Ah! what thanks I owe you, Monsieur Octave! It would -have killed me if Auguste had seen this.” -</p> - -<p> -And, this time, she took hold of both his hands, and for a moment held -them pressed between her own. But the sixty-two francs were never again -mentioned. -</p> - -<p> -Thus, little by little, the breach between the couple widened, in spite of -the husband’s efforts, he being desirous of having no disturbance in his -existence. He desperately defended his desire for a somnolent and idiotic -peacefulness, he closed his eyes to small faults, and even stomached some -big ones, with the constant dread of discovering something abominable -which would drive him into a furious passion. He therefore tolerated -Berthe’s lies, by which she attributed to her sister’s or her mother’s -affection a host of little things, the purchase of which she could not -have otherwise explained; he even no longer grumbled overmuch when she -went out of an evening, thus enabling Octave to take her twice privately -to the theater, accompanied by Madame Josserand and Hortense; delightful -outings, after which these ladies agreed together that the young man knew -how to live. -</p> - -<p> -It was on a Saturday that a frightful quarrel occurred between the husband -and wife, with respect to twenty sous which were deficient in Rachel’s -accounts. While Berthe was balancing up the book, Auguste brought, -according to his custom, the money necessary for the household expenses of -the ensuing week. The Josserands were to dine there that evening, and the -kitchen was littered with things—a rabbit, a leg of mutton, and some -cauliflowers. Saturnin, squatting on the tiled floor beside the sink, was -blacking his sister’s shoes and his brother-in-law’s boots. The quarrel -began with long arguments respecting the twenty sou piece. What had become -of it? How could one mislay twenty sous? Auguste would go over all the -additions again. During this time, Rachel, always pliant in spite of her -harsh looks, her mouth closed but her eyes on the watch, was quietly -spitting the leg of mutton. At length he gave fifty francs, and was on the -point of going down-stairs again, when he returned, worried by the thought -of the missing coin. -</p> - -<p> -“It must be found, though,” said he. “Perhaps you borrowed it of Rachel, -and have forgotten doing so.” -</p> - -<p> -Berthe felt greatly hurt at this. -</p> - -<p> -“Accuse me of cooking the accounts! Ah! you are nice!” -</p> - -<p> -Everything started from that, and they soon came to high words. Auguste, -in spite of his desire to purchase peace at a dear price, became -aggressive, excited by the sight of the rabbit, the leg of mutton and the -cauliflowers, beside himself before the pile of food, which she was going -to thrust all at once under her parents’ noses. He looked through the -account book, expressing astonishment at almost every item. It was -incredible! She must be in league with the servant to make something on -the marketing. -</p> - -<p> -“I! I!” exclaimed the young woman, thoroughly exasperated; “I in league -with the servant! But it’s you, sir, who pay her to spy upon me! Yes, I am -forever feeling her about me; I can’t move a step without encountering her -eyes. Ah! she may watch me through the key-hole, when I’m changing my -under-linen. I do no harm, and I don’t care a straw for your system of -police. Only, don’t you dare to reproach me with being in league with -her.” -</p> - -<p> -This unexpected attack quite dumbfounded the husband for a moment. Rachel -turned round, still holding the leg of mutton; and, placing her hand upon -her heart, she protested. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! madame, how can you think so? I who respect madame so much!” -</p> - -<p> -“She’s mad!” said Auguste, shrugging his shoulders. “Don’t take the -trouble to defend yourself, my girl. She’s mad!” -</p> - -<p> -But a noise behind his back caused him some anxiety. It was Saturnin, who -had violently thrown down one of the half-polished shoes to fly to his -sister’s assistance. With a terrible expression in his face and his fists -clenched, he stuttered out that he would strangle the dirty rascal if he -again called her mad. Thoroughly frightened, Auguste sought refuge behind -the filter, calling out: -</p> - -<p> -“It’s really become unbearable; I can no longer make a remark to you -without his thrusting himself in between us! I allowed him to come here, -but he must leave me alone! He’s another nice present of your mother’s! -She was frightened to death of him, and so she saddled him on me, -preferring to see me murdered in her stead. Thanks for nothing! He’s got a -knife now. Do make him desist!” -</p> - -<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> -<img src="images/0287.jpg" alt="0287 " width="100%" /> -</div> - -<p> -Berthe disarmed her brother, and calmed him with a look, whilst Auguste, -who had turned very pale, continued to mumble angry words. Always knives -being caught up! An injury is so soon done; and, with a madman, one could -do nothing; justice would even refuse to avenge it! In short, it was not -proper to make a bodyguard of such a brother, rendering a husband -powerless, even in circumstances of the most legitimate indignation, going -as far as forcing him to submit to his shame. -</p> - -<p> -“You’ve no tact, sir,” declared Berthe, disdainfully. “A gentleman would -not discuss such matters in a kitchen.” -</p> - -<p> -And she withdrew to her room, slamming the doors behind her. Rachel had -returned to the roaster, as though no longer hearing the quarrel between -her master and mistress. -</p> - -<p> -“Do understand, my dear,” said Auguste to Berthe, whom he had rejoined in -the bed-room, “it was not in reference to you that I spoke, it was for -that girl who robs us. Those twenty sous ought certainly to be found.” -</p> - -<p> -The young woman trembled nervously with exasperation. She looked him full -in the face, very pale and resolute. -</p> - -<p> -“Will you leave off bothering me about your twenty sous? It’s not twenty -sous I want, it’s five hundred francs a month. Yes, five hundred francs -for my dress. Ah! you discuss money matters in the kitchen, before the -servant! Well! that has decided me to discuss them also! I’ve been -restraining myself for a long time past. I want five hundred francs.” -</p> - -<p> -He stood aghast at such a demand. And she commenced the grand quarrel -which, during twenty years, her mother had picked with her father, -regularly every fortnight. Did he expect to see her walk about barefoot? -When one married a woman, one should at least arrange to clothe and feed -her decently. She would sooner beg than resign herself to such a pauper -existence! It was not her fault if he proved incapable of managing his -business properly; oh! yes, incapable, without ideas or initiative, only -knowing how to split farthings into four. A man who ought to have made it -his glory to acquire a fortune quickly, so as to dress her like a queen, -and make the people of The “Ladies’ Paradise” die with rage! But no! with -such a poor head as his, bankruptcy was sure to come sooner or later. And -from this flow of words emerged the respect, the furious appetite for -money, all that worship of wealth, the adoration of which she had learnt -in her family, when beholding the mean tricks to which one stoops, merely -to appear to possess it. -</p> - -<p> -“Five hundred francs!” said Auguste at length. “I would sooner shut up the -shop.” -</p> - -<p> -She looked at him coldly. -</p> - -<p> -“You refuse. Very well, I will run up bills.” -</p> - -<p> -“More debts, you wretched woman!” -</p> - -<p> -In a sudden violent movement, he seized her by the arms, and pushed her -against the wall. Then, without a cry, choking with passion, she ran and -opened the window, as though to throw herself out; but she retraced her -steps, and pushing him in her turn toward the door, turned him out of the -room gasping: -</p> - -<p> -“Go away, or I shall do you an injury!” -</p> - -<p> -And she noisily pushed the bolt behind his back. For a moment he listened -and hesitated. Then he hastened to go down to the warehouse, again seized -with terror, as he beheld Saturnin’s eyes gleaming in the shadow, the -noise of the short struggle having brought him from the kitchen. -</p> - -<p> -Down-stairs, Octave, who was selling silk handkerchiefs to an old lady, at -once noticed his agitated appearance. The assistant looked at him out of -the corner of his eye as he feverishly paced up and down before the -counters. When the customer had gone, Auguste’s heart quite overflowed. -“My dear fellow, she’s going mad,” said he without naming his wife. “She -has shut herself in. You ought to oblige me by going up and speaking to -her. I fear an accident, on my word of honor, I do!” -</p> - -<p> -The young man pretended to hesitate. It was such a delicate matter! -Finally, he agreed to do so out of pure devotion. Up-stairs, he found -Saturnin keeping guard before Berthe’s door. On hearing footsteps, the -madman uttered a menacing grunt. But when he recognized the assistant, his -face brightened. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! yes, you,” murmured he. “You’re all right. She mustn’t cry. Be nice, -say something to her. And you know, stop there. There’s no danger. I’m -here. If the servant tries to peep, I’ll settle her.” -</p> - -<p> -And he squatted down on the floor, guarding the door. As he still held one -of his brother-in-law’s boots, he commenced to polish it, to pass away the -time. -</p> - -<p> -Octave made up his mind to knock. No answer, not a sound. -</p> - -<p> -Then he gave his name. The bolt was at once drawn. And, opening the door -slightly, Berthe begged him to enter. Then she closed and bolted it again -with a nervous hand. -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t mind you,” said she; “but I won’t have him!” -</p> - -<p> -She paced the room, carried away by passion, going from the bedstead to -the window, which still remained open. And she muttered disconnected -sentences: he might entertain her parents at dinner, if he liked; yes, he -could account to them for her absence, for she would not appear at the -table; she would sooner die! Besides, she preferred to go to bed. With her -feverish hands, she already began to tear off the quilt, shake up the -pillows, and turn down the sheet, forgetful of Octave’s presence to the -extent that she was about to unhook her dress. Then she jumped to another -idea. -</p> - -<p> -“Just fancy! He beat me, beat me, beat me! And only because, ashamed of -always going about in rags, I asked him for five hundred francs!” -</p> - -<p> -Octave, standing up in the middle of the room, tried to find some -conciliating words. She was wrong to allow it to upset her so much. -Everything would come right again. And he ended by timidly offering her -assistance. -</p> - -<p> -“If you are worried about any bill, why not apply to your friends? I -should be so pleased! Oh! simply a loan. You could return it to me some -other time.” -</p> - -<p> -She looked at him. After a pause, she replied: -</p> - -<p> -“Never! it cannot be. What would people think, Monsieur Octave?” -</p> - -<p> -Her refusal was so decided that there was no further question of money. -But her anger seemed to have left her. She breathed heavily, and bathed -her face; and she looked quite pale, very calm, rather wearied, with -large, resolute eyes. Standing before her, he felt himself overcome by -that timidity of love, which he held in such contempt. Never before had he -loved so ardently; the strength of his desire communicated an awkwardness -to his charms of a handsome assistant. Whilst continuing to advise a -reconciliation in vague phrases, he was reasoning clearly in his own mind, -asking himself if he ought not to take her in his arms; but the fear of -being again repulsed made him hesitate. She, without uttering a word, -continued to look at him with her decided air, her forehead contracted by -a faint wrinkle. -</p> - -<p> -“Really!” he stammeringly continued, “you must be patient. Your husband is -not a bad fellow. If you only go the right way to work with him, he will -give you whatever you ask for.” -</p> - -<p> -And beneath the emptiness of these words, they both felt the same thought -take possession of them. They were alone, free, safe from all surprise, -with the door bolted. This security, the close warmth of the room, -exercised its influence on them. Yet he did not dare; the feminine side of -his nature, his womanly feeling, refined him in that moment of passion to -the point of making him the woman in their encounter. Then, as though -recollecting one of her former lessons, Berthe dropped her handkerchief. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! thank you,” said she to the young man, who picked it up. Their -fingers touched, they were drawn closer together by that momentary -contact. Now she smiled tenderly, and gave an easy suppleness to her form, -as she recollected that men detest sticks. It would never do to act the -simpleton, one must permit a little playfulness without seeming to do so, -if one would hook one’s fish. -</p> - -<p> -“Night is coming on,” resumed she, going and pushing the window to. -</p> - -<p> -He followed her, and there, in the shadow of the curtains, she allowed him -to take her hand. She laughed louder, bewildering him with her ringing -tones, enveloping him with her pretty gestures; and, as he at length -became bolder, she threw back her head, displaying her neck, her young and -delicate neck all quivering with her gayety. Distracted by the sight, he -kissed her under the chin. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! Monsieur Octave!” said she in confusion, making a pretense of -prettily putting him back into his place. -</p> - -<p> -His moment of triumph had come, but it was no sooner over than all the -ferocious disdain of woman which was hidden beneath his air of wheedling -adoration, returned. And when Berthe rose up, without strength in her -wrists, and her face contracted by a pang, her utter contempt for man was -thrown into the dark glance which she cast upon him. The room was wrapped -in complete silence. One only heard Saturnin, on the other side of the -door, polishing her husband’s boot with a regular movement of the brush. -</p> - -<p> -Octave’s thoughts reverted to Valérie and Madame Hédouin. At last he was -something more than little Pichon’s lover! It seemed like a rehabilitation -in his own eyes. Then, encountering Berthe’s uneasy glance, he experienced -a slight sense of shame, and kissed her with extreme gentleness. She was -resuming her air of resolute recklessness, and, with a gesture, seemed to -say: “What’s done can’t be undone.” But she afterward experienced the -necessity of giving expression to a melancholy thought. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! If you had only married me!” murmured she. -</p> - -<p> -He felt surprised, almost uneasy; but this did not prevent him from -replying, as he kissed her again: -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! yes, how nice it would have been!” -</p> - -<p> -That evening the dinner with the Josserands was most delightful, Berthe -had never shown herself so gentle. She did not say a word of the quarrel -to her parents, she received her husband with an air of submission. The -latter, delighted, took Octave aside to thank him; and he imparted so much -warmth into the proceeding, pressing his hands and displaying such a -lively gratitude, that the young man felt quite embarrassed. Moreover, -they one and all overwhelmed him with marks of their affection. Saturnin, -who behaved very well at table, looked at him with approving eyes. -Hortense on her part deigned to listen to him, whilst Madame Josserand, -full of maternal encouragement, kept filling his glass. -</p> - -<p> -“Dear me! yes,” said Berthe at dessert, “I intend to resume my painting. -For a long time past I have been wanting to decorate a cup for Auguste.” -</p> - -<p> -The latter was deeply moved at this loving conjugal thought. Ever since -the soup, Octave had kept his foot on the young woman’s under the table; -it was like a taking of possession in the midst of this little -middle-class gathering. Yet Berthe was not without a secret uneasiness -before Rachel, whose eyes she always found looking her through and -through. Was it, then, visible? The girl was decidedly one to be sent away -or else to be bought over. -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Josserand, who was near his daughter, finished soothing her by -passing her nineteen francs done up in paper under the tablecloth. He bent -down and whispered in her ear: -</p> - -<p> -“You know, they come from my little work. If you owe anything, you must -pay it.” -</p> - -<p> -Then, between her father, who nudged her knee, and her lover, who gently -rubbed her boot, she felt quite happy. Life would now be delightful. And -they united in throwing aside all reserve, enjoying the pleasure of a -family gathering unmarred by a single quarrel. In truth, it was hardly -natural, something must have brought them luck. Auguste, alone, had his -eyes half closed, suffering from a headache, which he had moreover -expected after so many emotions. Toward nine o’clock he was even obliged -to retire to bed. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> -CHAPTER XIII. -</h2> - -<p class="pfirst"> -<span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>or some time past, -Monsieur Gourd had been prowling about with an uneasy and mysterious air. -He was met gliding noiselessly along, his eyes open, his ears pricked up, -continually ascending the two staircases, where lodgers had even -encountered him going his rounds in the dead of night. The morality of the -house was certainly worrying him; he felt a kind of breath of shameful -things which troubled the cold nakedness of the courtyard, the calm -peacefulness of the vestibule, the beautiful domestic virtues of the -different stories. -</p> - -<p> -One evening, Octave had found the doorkeeper standing motionless and -without a light at the end of his passage, close to the door which opened -onto the servants’ staircase. Greatly surprised, he questioned him. -</p> - -<p> -“I wish to ascertain something, Monsieur Mouret,” simply answered Monsieur -Gourd, deciding to go off to bed. -</p> - -<p> -The young man was very much frightened. Did the doorkeeper suspect his -relations with Berthe? He was perhaps watching them. Their attachment -encountered continual obstacles in that house, where there was always some -one prying about and the inmates of which professed the most strict -principles. -</p> - -<p> -It happened to be a Tuesday night when Octave discovered Monsieur Gourd -watching close to his room. This increased his uneasiness. For a week -past, he had been imploring Berthe to come up and join him in his -apartment, when all the house would be asleep. Had the doorkeeper guessed -this? Octave went back to his room dissatisfied, tormented with fear and -desire. -</p> - -<p> -The night was a close one, and, overcome by the heat, Octave had dozed off -in an easy-chair, when toward midnight he was roused by a gentle knocking. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s I,” faintly whispered a woman’s voice. -</p> - -<p> -It was Berthe. He opened the door and clasped her in his arms in the -obscurity. When he had lighted his candle, he saw that she was deeply -troubled about something. The day before, not having sufficient money in -his pocket, he had been unable to pay for the bonnet at the time: and as -in her delight she had so far forgotten herself as to give her name, they -had sent her the bill that evening. Then, trembling at the thought that -they might call on the morrow when her husband was there, she had dared to -come up, gathering courage from the great silence of the house, and -confident that Rachel was asleep. -</p> - -<p> -“To-morrow morning, you will be sure to pay it to-morrow morning, won’t -you?” implored she, trying to escape. -</p> - -<p> -But he again clasped her in his arms. -</p> - -<p> -“Stay!” -</p> - -<p> -She remained. The clock slowly struck the hours in the voluptuous warmth -of the room; and, at each sound of the bell, he begged her so tenderly to -stay, that her strength seemed to desert her and she yielded to his -entreaties. Then, toward four o’clock, just as she had at length -determined to go, they both dropped off to sleep locked in each other’s -arms. When they again opened their eyes, the bright daylight was entering -at the window, it was nine o’clock. Berthe uttered a cry. -</p> - -<p> -“Good heavens! I’m lost!” -</p> - -<p> -Then ensued a moment of confusion. With her eyes half closed with sleep -and fatigue, feeling vaguely about with her hands scarcely able to -distinguish anything, she gave vent to stifled exclamations of regret. He, -seized with a similar despair, had thrown himself before the door, to -prevent her from going out at such an hour. Was she mad? people might meet -her on the stairs, it was too risky; they must think the matter over, and -devise a way for her to go down without being noticed. But she was -obstinate, simply wishing to get away; and she again made for the door, -which he defended. Then he thought of the servants’ staircase. Nothing -could be more convenient; she could go quickly through her own kitchen -into her apartment. Only, as Marie Pichon was always in the passage of a -morning, Octave considered it prudent to divert her attention, whilst the -other young woman made her escape. -</p> - -<p> -He went out in his ordinary quiet way, and was surprised to find Saturnin -making himself at home at Marie’s, and calmly watching her do her -housework. The madman loved thus to seek refuge beside her as in former -days, delighted with the manner in which she left him to himself, and -certain of not being jostled. Moreover, he was not in her way, and she -willingly tolerated him, though his conversational powers were not great. -It was company all the same, and she would still sing her ballad in a low -and expiring voice. -</p> - -<p> -“Hallo! so you’re with your lover?” said Octave, maneuvering so as to keep -the door shut behind his back. -</p> - -<p> -Marie turned crimson. Oh! that poor Monsieur Saturnin! Was it possible? He -who seemed to suffer even when any one touched his hand by accident! And -the madman also got angry. He would not be any one’s lover—never, -never! Whoever told his sister such a lie would have him to deal with. -Octave, amazed at his sudden irritation, felt it necessary to calm him. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile Berthe made her way to the servants’ staircase. She had two -flights to descend. At the first step a shrill laugh, issuing from Madame -Juzeur’s kitchen below, caused her to stop; and she tremblingly stood -against the landing window, opened wide onto the narrow courtyard. -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p> -Suddenly a voice exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -“Here’s master coming for his hot water!” -</p> - -<p> -And windows were quickly closed, and doors slammed. The silence of death -ensued, yet Berthe did not at first dare to move. When she at length went -down, the thought came to her that Rachel was probably in the kitchen, -waiting for her. This caused her fresh anguish. She now dreaded to enter, -she would have preferred to reach the street and fly away in the distance -forever. She nevertheless pushed the door ajar, and felt relieved on -beholding that the servant was not there. Then, seized with a childish joy -on finding herself at home again and safe, she hurried to her room. But -there was Rachel standing before the bed, which had not even been opened. -She looked at the bed, and then at her mistress with her expressionless -face. In her first moment of fright, the young woman lost her head to the -point of trying to excuse herself, and talked of an illness of her -sister’s. She stammered out the words, and then, frightened at the -poorness of her lie, understanding that denial was utterly useless, she -suddenly burst into tears. Dropping onto a chair, she continued crying. -</p> - -<p> -This lasted a good while. Not a word was exchanged, sobs alone disturbed -the perfect quiet of the room. Rachel, exaggerating her habitual -discretion, maintaining her cold manner of a girl who knows everything, -but who says nothing, had turned her back, and was making a pretence of -beating up the pillows, as though she was just finishing arranging the -bed. At length, when madame, more and more upset by this silence, was -giving too loud a vent to her despair, the maid, who was then dusting, -said simply, in a respectful tone of voice: -</p> - -<p> -“Madame is wrong to take on so, master is not so very pleasant.” -</p> - -<p> -Berthe left off crying. She would pay the girl, that was all Without -waiting further she gave her twenty francs. Then, not thinking that -sufficient, and already feeling uneasy, having fancied she saw her curl -her lips disdainfully, she rejoined her in the kitchen, and brought her -back to make her a present of an almost new dress. -</p> - -<p> -At the same moment, Octave, on his part, was again in a state of alarm, on -account of Monsieur Gourd. On leaving the Pichons’, he had found him -standing immovable, the same as the night before, listening behind the -door communicating with the servants’ staircase. He followed him without -even daring to speak to him. The doorkeeper gravely went back again down -the grand staircase. On the floor below he took a key from his pocket and -entered the room which was let to the distinguished individual, who came -there to work one night every week. And through the door, which remained -open for a moment, Octave obtained a clear view of that room which was -always kept as closely shut as a tomb. It was in a terrible state of -disorder that morning, the gentleman having no doubt worked there the -night before. A huge bed, with the sheets stripped off, a wardrobe with a -glass door, empty, save for the remnants of a lobster and two partly -filled bottles, two dirty hand-basins lying about, one beside the bed and -the other on a chair. Monsieur Gourd, with his calm air of a retired -judge, at once occupied himself with emptying and rinsing out the basins. -</p> - -<p> -As he hurried to the Passage de la Madeleine to pay for the bonnet, the -young man was tormented by a painful uncertainty. Finally, he determined -to engage the doorkeepers in conversation on his return. Madame Gourd, -reclining in her commodious armchair, was getting a breath of fresh air -between the two pots of flowers, at the open window of their room. -Standing up beside the door, old mother Pérou was waiting in a humble and -frightened manner. -</p> - -<p> -“Have you a letter for me?” asked Octave, as a commencement. -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Gourd just then came down from the room on the third floor. -Seeing after that was the only work that he now condescended to do in the -house; and he showed himself highly flattered by the confidence of the -gentleman, who paid him well on condition that his basins should not pass -through any other hands. -</p> - -<p> -“No, Monsieur Mouret, nothing at all,” answered he. -</p> - -<p> -He had seen old mother Pérou perfectly well, but he pretended not to be -aware of her presence. The day before he had got into such a rage with her -for upsetting a pail of water in the middle of the vestibule, that he had -sent her about her business on the spot. And she had called for her money, -but the mere sight of him made her tremble, and she almost sank into the -ground with humility. -</p> - -<p> -However, as Octave remained some time doing the amiable with Madame Gourd, -the doorkeeper roughly turned toward the poor old woman. -</p> - -<p> -“So, you want to be paid. What’s owing to you?” -</p> - -<p> -But Madame Gourd interrupted him. -</p> - -<p> -“Look, darling, there’s that girl again with her horrible little beast.” -</p> - -<p> -It was Lisa, who, a few days before, had found a spaniel in the street. -And this occasioned continual disputes with the doorkeepers. The landlord -would not allow any animals in the house. No, no animals, and no women! -The little dog was even forbidden to go into the courtyard; the street was -quite good enough for him. As it had been raining that morning, and the -little beast’s paws were sopping wet, Monsieur Gourd rushed forward, -exclaiming: -</p> - -<p> -“I will not have him walk up the stairs, you hear me! Carry him in your -arms.” -</p> - -<p> -“So that he shall make me all in a mess!” said Lisa, insolently. “What a -great misfortune it’ll be if he wets the servants’ staircase a bit! Up you -go, doggie.” -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Gourd tried to seize hold of her, and almost slipped, so he fell -to abusing those sluts of servants. He was always at war with them, -tormented with the rage of a former servant who wishes to be waited on in -his turn. But Lisa turned upon him, and with the verbosity of a girl who -had grown up in the gutters of Montmartre, she shouted out: -</p> - -<p> -“Eh! just you leave me alone, you miserable old flunkey! Go and empty the -duke’s jerries!” -</p> - -<p> -It was the only insult capable of silencing Monsieur Gourd, and the -servants all took advantage of it. He returned to his room quivering with -rage and mumbling to himself, saying that he was certainly very proud of -having been in service at the duke’s, and that she would not have staid -there two hours even, the baggage! Then he assailed mother Pérou, who -almost jumped out of her skin. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! what is it you’re owed? Eh! you say twelve francs sixty-five -centimes. But it isn’t possible? Sixty-three hours at twenty centimes the -hour. Ah! you charge a quarter of an hour. Never! I warned you, I only pay -the hours that are completed.” -</p> - -<p> -And he did not even give her her money then, he left her perfectly -terrified, and joined in the conversation between his wife and Octave. The -latter was cunningly alluding to all the worries that such a house must -cause them, hoping thus to get them to talk about the lodgers. Such -strange things must sometimes take place behind the doors! Then the -doorkeeper chimed in, as grave as ever: -</p> - -<p> -“What concerns us, concerns us, Monsieur Mouret, and what doesn’t concern -us, doesn’t concern us. Over there, for instance, is something which quite -puts me beside myself. Look at it, look at it!” -</p> - -<p> -And, stretching out his arm, he pointed to the boot-stitcher, that tall, -pale girl who had arrived at the house in the middle of the funeral. She -walked with difficulty; she was evidently in the family way, and her -condition was exaggerated by the sickly skinniness of her neck and legs. -</p> - -<p> -“On my word of honor! sir, if this sort of thing was likely to continue, -we would prefer to retire to our home at Mort-la-Ville; would we not, -Madame Gourd? for, thank heaven! we have sufficient to live on, we are -dependent on no one. A house like this to be made the talk of the place by -such a creature! for so it is, sir!” -</p> - -<p> -“She seems very ill,” said Octave, following her with his eyes, not daring -to pity her too much. “I always see her looking so sad, so pale, so -forlorn. But, of course, she has a lover.” -</p> - -<p> -At this, Monsieur Gourd gave a violent start. -</p> - -<p> -“Now we have it! Do you hear, Madame Gourd? Monsieur Mouret is also of -opinion that she has a lover. It’s clear, such things don’t come of -themselves. Well, sir! for two months past I’ve been on the watch, and -I’ve not yet seen the shadow of a man. How full of vice she must be! Ah! -if I only found her chap, how I would chuck him out! But I can’t find him, -and it’s that which worries me.” -</p> - -<p> -“Perhaps no one comes,” Octave ventured to observe. -</p> - -<p> -The doorkeeper looked at him with surprise. -</p> - -<p> -“That would not be natural. Oh! I’m determined I’ll catch him. I’ve still -six weeks before me, for I got the landlord to give her notice to quit in -October. Just fancy her being confined here!” and, with his arm still -thrust out, he pointed to the young woman, who was painfully wending her -way up the servants’ staircase. Madame Gourd was obliged to calm him: he -took the respectability of the house too much to heart; he would end by -making himself ill. Then, mother Pérou having dared to manifest her -presence by a discreet cough, he returned to her, and coolly deducted the -sou she had charged for the odd quarter of an hour. She was at length -going off with her twelve francs sixty centimes, when he offered to take -her back, but at three sous an hour only. She burst into tears, and -accepted. -</p> - -<p> -“I shall always be able to get some one,” said he. “You’re no longer -strong enough; you don’t even do two sous’ worth.” -</p> - -<p> -Octave felt his mind relieved as he returned to his room for a minute. On -the third floor he caught up Madame Juzeur, who was also going to her -apartments. She was obliged now to run down every morning after Louise, -who loitered at the different shops. -</p> - -<p> -“How proud you are becoming,” said she, with her sharp smile. “One can see -very well that you are being spoilt elsewhere.” -</p> - -<p> -These words once more aroused all the young man’s anxiety. He followed her -into her drawing-room, pretending to joke with her the while. Only one of -the curtains was slightly drawn back, and the carpet and the hangings -before the doors subdued still more this alcove-like light; and the noise -of the street did not penetrate more than to the extent of a faint buzz, -in this room as soft as down. She made him seat himself beside her on the -low, wide sofa. But, as he did not take her hand and kiss it, she asked -him archly: -</p> - -<p> -“Do you, then, no longer love me?” -</p> - -<p> -He blushed, and protested that he adored her. Then she gave him her hand -of her own accord, with a little stifled laugh; and he was obliged to -raise it to his lips, so as to dispel her suspicions, if she had any. But -she almost immediately withdrew it again. -</p> - -<p> -“No, no; though you pretend to excite yourself, it gives you no pleasure. -Oh, I feel it does not, and, besides, it is only natural!” What? what did -she mean? He seized her round the waist, and pressed her with questions, -but she would not answer; she abandoned herself to his embrace, and kept -shaking her head. At length, to oblige her to speak, he commenced tickling -her. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, you see,” she ended by murmuring, “you love another.” She named -Valérie, and reminded him of the evening at the Josserands when he -devoured her with his eyes. Then, as he declared that Valérie was nothing -to him, she retorted, with another laugh, that she knew that very well, -and had been only teasing him. Only, there was another, and this time she -named Madame Hédouin, laughing more than ever, and amused at his -protestations, which were very energetic. Who, then? Was it Marie Pichon? -Ah! he could not deny that one. Yet he did do so, but she shook her head. -She assured him that her little finger never told stories. And to draw -each of these women’s names from her, he was obliged to redouble his -caresses. -</p> - -<p> -But she had not named Berthe. He was loosening his hold of her, when she -resumed: -</p> - -<p> -“Now, there’s the last one.” -</p> - -<p> -“What last one?” inquired he, anxiously. -</p> - -<p> -Screwing up her mouth, she again obstinately refused to say anything more, -so long as he had not opened her lips with a kiss. -</p> - -<p> -He continued to hold her reclining in his arms. She languishingly alluded -to the cruel being who had deserted her after having only been married a -week. A miserable woman like her knew too much of the tempests of the -heart! For a longtime past she had guessed what she styled Octave’s -“little games;” for not a kiss could be exchanged in the house without her -hearing it. And, in the depths of the wide sofa, they had quite a cozy -little chat, interrupted now and then with all sorts of delightful -caresses. -</p> - -<p> -When Octave left her he felt more at ease. She had restored his good -humor, and she amused him with her complicated principles of virtue. -Down-stairs, directly he entered the warehouse, he reassured Berthe with a -sign, as her eyes questioned him with reference to the bonnet. Then all -the terrible adventure of the morning was forgotten. When Auguste -returned, a little before lunch-time, he found them both looking the same -as usual, Berthe very much bored at the pay-desk, and Octave gallantly -measuring off some silk for a lady. -</p> - -<p> -But, after that day, the lovers’ private meetings became rarer still. As a -practical fellow, he ended by thinking it stupid to be always paying, when -she, on her side, only gave him her foot under the table. Paris had -decidedly brought him ill-luck; at first, repulses, and then this silly -passion, which was fast emptying his purse. He could certainly not be -accused of succeeding through women. He now found a certain honor in it by -way of consolation, in his secret rage at the failure of his plan so -clumsily carried out up till then. -</p> - -<p> -Yet Auguste was not much in their way. Ever since the bad turn affairs had -taken at Lyons, he had suffered more than ever with his headaches. On the -first of the month, Berthe had experienced a sudden joy on seeing him, in -the evening, place three hundred francs under the bed-room timepiece for -her dress; and, in spite of the reduction on the amount which she had -demanded, as she had given up all hope of ever seeing a sou of it, she -threw herself into his arms, all warm with gratitude. On this occasion the -husband had a night of hugging such as the lover never experienced. -</p> - -<p> -September passed away in this manner, in the great calm of the house -emptied of its occupants by the summer months. The people of the second -floor had gone to the seaside in Spain, which caused Monsieur Gourd, full -of pity, to shrug his shoulders: what a fuss! as though the most -distinguished people were not satisfied with Trouville! The Duveyriers, -since the beginning of Gustave’s holidays, had been at their country house -at Villeneuve-Saint-Georges. Even the Josserands went and spent a -fortnight at a friend’s, near Pontoise, spreading a rumor beforehand that -they were going to some watering-place. -</p> - -<p> -This clearance, these deserted apartments, the staircase slumbering in a -greater silence than ever, seemed to Octave to offer less danger; and he -argued and so wearied Berthe that she at last received him in her room one -evening whilst Auguste was away at Lyons. But this meeting also nearly -took a bad turn. Madame Josserand, who had returned home two days before, -was seized with such an attack of indigestion after dining out, that -Hortense, filled with anxiety, went down-stairs for her sister. -Fortunately, Rachel was just finishing scouring her saucepans, and she was -able to let the young man out by the servants’ staircase. On the following -days, Berthe availed herself of that alarm to again refuse him everything. -</p> - -<p> -Besides, they were so foolish as not to reward the servant. She attended -to them in her cold way, and with her superior respect of a girl who hears -and sees nothing; only, as madame was forever crying after money, and as -Monsieur Octave already spent too much in presents, she curled her lip -more and more in that wretched establishment, where the mistress’ lover -did not even present her with ten sous when he stayed there. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, Madame Juzeur wept with that lovesick darling who could only -gaze on his mistress from a distance; and she gave him the very best -advice. Octave’s passion reached such a pitch that he thought one day of -imploring her to lend him her apartment; no doubt she would not have -refused, but he feared rousing Berthe’s indignation by his indiscretion. -He also had the idea of utilizing Saturnin; perhaps the madman would watch -over them like a faithful dog in some out-of-the-way room; only, he -displayed such a fantastical humor, at one time overwhelming his sister’s -lover with the most awkward caresses, at another, sulking with him and -casting suspicious glances gleaming with a sudden hatred. One could almost -have thought him jealous, with the nervous and violent jealousy of a -woman. -</p> - -<p> -Just as September was drawing to a close, and the lodgers were on the -point of returning home, a wild idea came to Octave in the midst of his -torment. Rachel had asked her permission to sleep out on one of the -Tuesdays that her master would be at Lyons, in order to enable her to -attend the wedding of one of her sisters in the country; and it was merely -a question of passing the night in the servant’s room, where no one in the -world would think of seeking them. Berthe, feeling deeply hurt at the -suggestion, at first displayed the greatest repugnance; but he implored -her with tears in his eyes; he talked of leaving Paris, where he suffered -too much; he confused and wearied her with such a number of arguments, -that, scarcely knowing what she did, she ended by consenting. All was -settled. The Tuesday evening, after dinner, they took a cup of tea at the -Josserands’, so as to dispel any suspicions. Trublot, Gueulin, and uncle -Bachelard were there; and, very late in the evening, Duveyrier, who -occasionally came to sleep at the Rue de Choiseul, on account of business -which he pretended he had to attend to early in the morning, even put in -an appearance. Octave made a show of joining freely in the conversation of -these gentlemen; then, when midnight struck, he withdrew, and went and -locked himself in Rachel’s room, where Berthe was to join him an hour -later when all the house was asleep. -</p> - -<p> -Upstairs, the arrangement of the room occupied him during the first -half-hour. He had provided himself with clean bed linen, and he proceeded -to remake the bed, awkwardly, and occupying a long while over it, through -fear of being overheard. Then, like Trublot, he sat down on a box and -tried to wait patiently. The servants came up to bed, one by one; and -through the thin partitions the sounds of women undressing themselves -could be heard. One o’clock struck, then the quarter, then the half hour -past. He began to feel anxious; why was Berthe so long in coming? She must -have left the Josserands’ about one o’clock at the latest; and it could -not take her more than ten minutes to go to her rooms and come out again -by the servants’ staircase. When two o’clock struck, he imagined all sorts -of catastrophes. At length, he heaved a sigh of relief, on fancying he -recognized her footstep. And he opened the door, in order to light her. -But surprise rooted him to the spot. Opposite Adèle’s door, Trublot, bent -almost double, was looking through the key-hole, and jumped up, frightened -by that sudden light. -</p> - -<p> -“What! it’s you again!” murmured Octave, with annoyance. -</p> - -<p> -Trublot began to laugh, without appearing the least surprised at finding -him there at such a time of night. -</p> - -<p> -“Just fancy,” explained he, very softly, “that fool Adèle hasn’t given me -her key, and she has gone and joined Duveyrier in his room. Eh? what’s the -matter with you? Ah! you didn’t know Duveyrier slept with her. It is so, -my dear fellow. He really is reconciled with his wife, who, however, only -resigns herself to him now and then; so he falls back upon Adèle. It’s -convenient, whenever he comes to Paris.” -</p> - -<p> -He interrupted himself, and stooped down again, then added, between his -clenched teeth. -</p> - -<p> -“What a confounded brainless girl that Adèle is! If she had only given me -her key, I could have made myself comfortable here.” -</p> - -<p> -Then he returned to the loft where he had been, previously waiting, taking -Octave with him, who, moreover, desired to question him respecting the -finish of the evening at the Josserands’. But, for some time, Trublot -would not allow him to open his mouth. -</p> - -<p> -Octave was at length able to question him as to the wind-up of the party. -It seemed that Berthe had left her mother’s shortly after midnight, -looking very composed. No doubt, she was now in Rachel’s room. But -Trublot, delighted at the meeting, would not let him go. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s idiotic, keeping me waiting so long,” continued he. “Besides, I’m -almost asleep as it is. My governor has put me into the liquidation -department, and I’m up all night three times a week, my dear fellow. If -Julie were only there, she would make room for me. But Duveyrier only -brings Hippolyte up from the country. And, by the way, you know Hippolyte, -that tall, ugly chap! Well! I just saw him going to join Louise, that -frightened brat of a foundling, whose soul Madame Juzeur wished to save. -Eh? it’s a fine success for Madame! ‘Anything you like except that.’” -</p> - -<p> -That night, Trublot, who was greatly bored, was full of philosophical -reflections. He added, almost in a whisper: -</p> - -<p> -“Well, you know! like master, like man. When landlords set the example, -it’s scarcely surprising if the servants’ tastes are not exactly refined. -Ah! everything’s decidedly going to the dogs in France!” -</p> - -<p> -“Good-bye,” said Octave; “I’m off.” -</p> - -<p> -But Trublot still detained him, enumerating the servants’ rooms where he -might have slept, as the summer had emptied nearly the whole of them; only -the worst was that they all double-locked their doors, even when they were -merely going to the end of the passage, they had such a fear of being -robbed by each other. -</p> - -<p> -At length Octave was able to get free. He was on the point of leaving -Trublot in the profound obscurity of the loft, when the latter suddenly -expressed his surprise. -</p> - -<p> -“But you, what are you doing amongst the maids? Ah! rascal, you come here -too!” -</p> - -<p> -And he laughed with delight, and promising to keep Octave’s secret, sent -him off, wishing him a pleasant night of it. -</p> - -<p> -When Octave found himself back in Rachel’s room, he experienced a fresh -deception. Berthe was not there. Anger got the better of him now: Berthe -had humbugged him, she had promised him merely to get rid of his -importunities. Whilst he was chafing there, she was sleeping, happy at -being alone, occupying the whole breadth of the conjugal couch. Then, -instead of returning to his room and going to sleep himself, he -obstinately waited, throwing himself all dressed as he was on the bed, and -passing the night in forming projects of revenge. Three o’clock chimed out -in the distance. The snores of robust maid-servants arose on his left; -while on his right there was a continual wail, a woman moaning with pain -in the fever of a sleepless night. He ended by recognizing the -boot-stitcher’s voice. The wretched woman was lying suffering all alone in -one of those poverty-stricken closets next to the roof. -</p> - -<p> -Just as day was breaking, Octave fell asleep. A profound silence reigned; -even the boot-stitcher no longer moaned, but lay like one dead. The sun -was peering through the narrow window, when the door opening abruptly -awoke the young man. -</p> - -<p> -It was Berthe, who, urged by an irresistible desire, had come up to see if -he was still there; she had at first scouted the idea, then she had -furnished herself with pretexts, the need for going to the room and -putting everything straight, in case he had left it anyhow in his rage. -Moreover, she no longer expected to find him there. When she beheld him -rise from the little iron bedstead, ghastly pale and menacing, she stood -dumbfounded; and she listened with bowed head to his furious reproaches. -He pressed her to answer, to give him at least some explanation. At length -she murmured: -</p> - -<p> -“At the last moment I could not do it. It was too indelicate. I love you, -oh! I swear it. But not here, not here!” -</p> - -<p> -And, seeing him approach her, she drew back, afraid that he might wish to -take advantage of the opportunity. Eight o’clock was striking, the -servants had all gone down, even Trublot had departed. Then, as he tried -to take hold of her hands, saying that, when one loves a person, one -accepts everything, she complained that the closeness of the room made her -feel unwell, and she slightly opened the window. But he again tried to -draw her toward him, overpowering her with his importunities. At this -moment a turbid torrent of foul words ascended from the inner courtyard. -</p> - -<p> -“Pig! slut! have you done? Your dish-cloth’s again fallen on my head.” -</p> - -<p> -Berthe, turning ghastly pale, and quivering from head to foot, released -herself, murmuring: -</p> - -<p> -“Do you hear those girls? They make me shiver all over. The other day, I -thought I should have been ill. No, leave me alone, and I promise to see -you, on Tuesday next, in your room.” -</p> - -<p> -The two lovers, standing up and not daring to move, were compelled to hear -everything. -</p> - -<p> -“Show yourself a moment,” continued Lisa, who was furious, “so that I may -shy it back in your ugly face!” -</p> - -<p> -Then Adèle went and leant out of her kitchen window. -</p> - -<p> -“There’s a fuss about a bit of rag! To begin with, I only used it for -washing up with yesterday. And then it fell out by accident.” They made -peace together, and Lisa asked her what they had had for dinner at her -place the day before. Another stew! What misers! She would have ordered -chops for herself, if she had been in such a hole! She was forever -inciting Adèle to sneak the sugar, the meat, the candles, just to show -that she could do as she liked; as for herself, never being hungry, she -left Victoire to rob the Campardons, without even taking her share. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh!” said Adèle, who was gradually becoming corrupted, “the other night I -hid some potatoes in my pocket. They quite burnt my leg. It was jolly, it -was jolly! And, you know, I like vinegar, I do. I don’t care, I drink it -out of the cruet now.” -</p> - -<p> -Victoire came and leant out in her turn, as she finished drinking some -cassis mixed with brandy, which Lisa treated her to now and then of a -morning, to pay her for concealing her day and night escapades. And, as -Louise thrust out her tongue at them from the depths of Madame Juzeur’s -kitchen, Victoire was at once down upon her. -</p> - -<p> -“Wait a bit! you street foundling; I’ll shove your tongue somewhere for -you!” -</p> - -<p> -“Come along, then, old swiller!” retorted the little one. “I saw you -yesterday bringing it all up again in your plate.” -</p> - -<p> -At this, the rush of foul words again rebounded from wall to wall of the -pestiferous hole. Adèle herself, who was mastering the Paris gift of the -gab, called Louise a filthy drab, whilst Lisa yelled out: -</p> - -<p> -“I’ll make her shut up if she bothers us. Yes, yes, little strumpet, I’ll -tell Clémence. She’ll settle you. But, hush! here’s the man. He’s a nice, -dirty beast, he is!” -</p> - -<p> -Hippolyte, just then appeared at the Duveyriers’ window, blacking his -master’s boots. The other servants, in spite of everything, were polite to -him, for he belonged to the aristocracy, and he despised Lisa, who, in her -turn, despised Adèle, with more haughtiness than rich masters show to -masters in difficulties. They asked him for news of Mademoiselle Clémence -and Mademoiselle Julie. Well! really, they were almost bored to death -there, but they were pretty well. Then, jumping to another subject, he -asked: -</p> - -<p> -“Did you hear that girl last night, wriggling about with her stomach-ache? -Wasn’t it annoying? Luckily she’s going to leave soon. I had half a mind -to call out to her.” -</p> - -<p> -This allusion to the boot-stitcher’s condition caused them to pass all the -ladies of the house in review. -</p> - -<p> -At first they talked of Madame Campardon, who at least had nothing more to -fear; then of Madame Juzeur, who took her precautions; next of Madame -Duveyrier, who was disgusted with her husband; and of Madame Valérie, who -went and got her children away from home. And at each recital bursts of -laughter arose in blasts from the squalid hole. -</p> - -<p> -Berthe had again turned pale. She waited, no longer even daring to leave -the room, her eyes cast down with shame, like one to whom violence was -being offered in Octave’s presence. He, exasperated with the servants, -felt that they were becoming too filthy, and that he could not again take -her in his arms; his desire was giving place to a weariness and a great -sadness. But suddenly the young woman started. Lisa had just uttered her -name. -</p> - -<p> -“Talking of enjoying oneself, there’s one who seems to me to go in for a -rare dose of it! Eh! Adèle, isn’t it true that your Mademoiselle Berthe -was up to all manner of tricks at the time you used to wash her -petticoats?” -</p> - -<p> -“And now,” said Victoire, “she gets her husband’s assistant to give her a -dusting!” -</p> - -<p> -“Hush!” exclaimed Hippolyte softly. -</p> - -<p> -“What for? Her jade of a servant isn’t there to-day. A sly hussy who’d eat -you, when one speaks of her mistress! You know she’s a Jewess, and she -murdered some one once. Perhaps the handsome Octave dusts her also, in the -corners. The governor must have engaged him just to increase the family, -the big ninny!” -</p> - -<p> -Then Berthe, suffering indescribable anguish, raised her eyes to her -lover. And, cast down, imploring some aid, she stammered, in a painful -voice: -</p> - -<p> -“My God! my God!” -</p> - -<p> -Octave took her hand and squeezed it tightly; he was choking with impotent -rage. What was to be done? he could not show himself and force those women -to leave off. The foul words continued, words which the young woman had -never heard before, all the overflow of a sewer which every morning found -an outlet there, close to her, and of which she had never had the least -suspicion. Their love, so carefully hidden as they thought, was now being -dragged amidst the vegetable parings and the kitchen slops. These women -knew all, without any one having spoken. Lisa related how Saturnin held -the candle. Victoire was highly amused by the husband’s headaches, and -said that he would do well to get himself another eye and have it placed -somewhere; even Adèle had a fling at her mistress’ young lady, whose -ailments, private habits, and toilet secrets she ruthlessly exposed. And a -filthy chaff soiled all that remained that was good and tender in their -love. -</p> - -<p> -“Look out below!” suddenly exclaimed Victoire; “here’s some of yesterday’s -carrots which stink enough to poison one! They’ll do for that crapulous -old Gourd!” -</p> - -<p> -The servants, out of spite, threw all the filth they could into the inner -courtyard, so that the doorkeeper should have it to sweep up. -</p> - -<p> -“And here’s a bit of moldy kidney!” said Adèle in her turn. -</p> - -<p> -All the scrapings of the saucepans, all the muck from the washing-up -basins, found their way there, whilst Lisa continued to pull Berthe and -Octave to pieces. The pair remained standing, hand-in-hand, face to face, -unable to turn away their eyes; and their hands became as cold as ice, and -their looks acknowledged the impurity of their intimacy. This was what -their love had come to, this fornication beneath a downpour of putrid meat -and stale vegetables! -</p> - -<p> -“And you know,” said Hippolyte, “the young gentleman doesn’t care for the -missis. He merely took her to help him along in the world. Oh! he’s a -miser at heart in spite of his airs, an unscrupulous fellow, who, with his -pretensions of loving women, is not above slapping them!” -</p> - -<p> -Berthe, her eyes on Octave, saw him turn pale, his face so upset, so -changed, that he frightened her. -</p> - -<p> -“On my word! the two make a nice pair,” resumed Lisa. “I wouldn’t give -much for her skin either. Badly brought up, with a heart as hard as a -stone, caring for nothing except her own pleasure, and sleeping with -fellows for the sake of their money, yes, for their money! for I know the -sort of woman.” -</p> - -<p> -The tears streamed from Berthe’s eyes. Octave beheld her features all -distorted. It was as if they had been flayed before each other, laid -utterly bare, without any possibility of protesting. Then the young woman, -suffocated by this open cesspool which discharged its exhalations full in -her face, wished to fly. He did not detain her, for disgust with -themselves made their presence a torture, and they longed for the relief -of no longer seeing each other. -</p> - -<p> -“You promise to come, next Tuesday, to my room?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, yes.” -</p> - -<p> -And she hurried away, quite distracted. Left alone, he walked about the -room, fumbling with his hands, putting the linen he had brought, into a -bundle. He was no longer listening to the servants, when their last words -attracted his attention. -</p> - -<p> -“I tell you that Monsieur Hédouin died last night. If handsome Octave had -foreseen that, he would have continued to cultivate Madame Hédouin, who’s -worth a lot.” -</p> - -<p> -This news, learnt there, amidst those surroundings, re-echoed in the -innermost recesses of his being. Monsieur Hédouin was dead! And he was -seized with an immense regret. He thought out loud, he could not restrain -himself from saying: -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! yes, by Jove! I’ve been a fool!” -</p> - -<p> -When Octave at length went down, with his bundle, he met Rachel coming up -to her room. Had she been a few minutes sooner, she would have caught them -there. Down-stairs, she had again found her mistress in tears; but, this -time, she had not got anything out of her, neither an avowal, nor a sou. -And furious, understanding that they took advantage of her absence to see -each other and thus to do her out of her little profits, she stared at the -young man with a look black with menace. A singular schoolboy timidity -prevented Octave from giving her ten francs; and, desirous of displaying -perfect ease of mind, he went in to joke with Marie a while, when a grunt -proceeding from a corner caused him to turn round: it was Saturnin, who -rose up saying, in one of his jealous fits: -</p> - -<p> -“Take care! we’re mortal enemies!” -</p> - -<p> -That morning was the 8th of October, and the boot-stitcher had to clear -out before noon. For a week past, Monsieur Gourd had been watching her -with a dread that increased hourly. -</p> - -<p> -The boot-stitcher had implored the landlord to let her stay a few days -longer, so as to get over her confinement, but had met with an indignant -refusal. Pains were seizing her at every moment; during the last night, -she had fancied she would be brought to bed all alone. Then, toward nine -o’clock, she had begun her moving, helping the youngster whose little -truck was in the courtyard, leaning against the furniture or sitting down -on the stairs, whenever a formidable spasm doubled her up. -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Gourd, however, had discovered nothing. Not a man! He had been -regularly humbugged. So that, all the morning, he prowled about in a cold -rage. Octave, who met him, shuddered at the thought that he also must know -of their intimacy. -</p> - -<p> -At a quarter to twelve, the work-girl appeared, with her wax-like face, -her perpetual sadness, her mournful despondency. She could scarcely move -along. Monsieur Gourd trembled until she was safe out in the street. Just -as she handed him her key, Duveyrier issued from the vestibule, so heated -by his night’s work that the red blotches on his forehead seemed almost -bleeding. He put on a haughty air, an implacable moral severity, when the -creature passed before him. Ashamed and resigned, she bowed her head; and, -following the little truck, she went off with the same despairing step as -she had come, the day when she had been engulfed by the undertaker’s black -hangings. -</p> - -<p> -Then, only, did Monsieur Gourd triumph. As though this woman had carried -off with her all the uneasiness of the house, the disreputable things with -which the very walls shuddered, he called out to the landlord: -</p> - -<p> -“A good riddance, sir! One will be able to breathe now, for, on my word of -honor! it was becoming disgusting. It has lifted a hundred weight from off -my chest. No, sir; you see, in a house which is to be respected, there -should be no single women, and especially none of those women who work!” -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> -CHAPTER XIV. -</h2> - -<p class="pfirst"> -<span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>n the following -Tuesday Berthe did not keep her promise to Octave. This time she had -warned him not to expect her, in a rapid explanation they had had that -evening, after the warehouse closed; and she sobbed; she had been to -confession the day before, feeling a want of religious comfort, and was -still quite upset by Abbé Mauduit’s grievous exhortations. Since her -marriage she had thrown aside all religion, but, after the foul words with -which the servants had sullied her, she had suddenly felt so sad, so -abandoned, so unclean, that she had returned for an hour to the belief of -her childhood, inflamed with a hope of purification and salvation. On her -return, the priest having wept with her, her sin quite horrified her. -Octave, impotent and furious, shrugged his shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -Then, three days later, she again promised for the following Tuesday. At a -meeting with her lover, in the Passage des Panoramas, she had seen some -Chantilly lace shawls, and she was incessantly alluding to them, whilst -her eyes were filled with desire. So that, on the Monday morning, the -young man laughingly said to her, in order to soften the brutal nature of -the bargain, that, if she at last kept her word, she would find a little -surprise for herself up in his room. She understood him, and again burst -into tears. No! no! she would not go now; he had spoilt all the pleasure -she had anticipated from their being together. She had spoken of the shawl -thoughtlessly; she no longer wanted it; she would throw it on the fire if -he gave it her. However, on the morrow, they made all their arrangements: -she was to knock three times at his door very softly half an hour after -midnight. -</p> - -<p> -That day, when Auguste started for Lyons, he struck Berthe as being rather -peculiar. She had caught him whispering with Rachel behind the kitchen -door; besides which, he was quite yellow, and shivering, with one eye -closed up; but, as he complained a good deal of his headache, she thought -he was ill, and told him that the journey would do him good. Directly he -had left, she returned to the kitchen, still feeling slightly uneasy, and -tried to sound the servant. The girl continued to be discreet and -respectful, and maintained the stiff attitude of her early days. The young -woman, however, felt that she was vaguely dissatisfied, and she thought -that she had been very foolish to give her twenty francs and a dress, and -then to stop all further gratuities, although compelled to do so, for she -was forever in want of a five franc piece herself. -</p> - -<p> -“My poor girl,” said she to her, “I have not been very generous, have I? -But it is not my fault. I have not forgotten you, and I shall recompense -you by-and-by.” -</p> - -<p> -“Madame owes me nothing,” answered Rachel, in her cold way. -</p> - -<p> -Then Berthe went and fetched two of her old chemises, wishing at least to -show her good nature. But the servant, on receiving them, observed that -they would do for rags for the kitchen. -</p> - -<p> -“Thank you, madame; calico irritates my skin; I only wear linen.” -</p> - -<p> -Berthe, however, found her so polite, that she became more easy. She made -herself very familiar with her, told her she was going to sleep out, and -even asked her to leave a lamp alight, in case she required it. The door -leading on to the grand staircase could be bolted, and she would go out by -way of the kitchen, the key of which she would take with her. The servant -received these instructions as coolly as if it had been a question of -cooking a piece of beef for the morrow’s dinner. -</p> - -<p> -By a refinement of discretion, as his mistress was to dine with her -parents that evening, Octave accepted an invitation to the Campardons’. -He counted on staying there till ten o’clock, and then going and shutting -himself up in his room, and waiting for half-past twelve with as much -patience as possible. -</p> - -<p> -The dinner at the Campardons’ was quite patriarchal. The architect, seated -between his wife and her cousin, lingered over the dishes—regular -family dishes—abundant and wholesome, as he described them. -</p> - -<p> -“Eat away,” cried the architect to Octave; “you may be eaten yourself some -day.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Campardon, bending toward the young man’s ear, was once more -congratulating herself on the happiness which the cousin had brought the -household; an economy of quite cent. per cent., the servants made to be -respectful; Angèle looked after properly, and receiving good examples. -</p> - -<p> -“In short,” murmured she, “Achille continues to be as happy as a fish in -water, and, as for me, I have absolutely nothing whatever left to do, -absolutely nothing. Listen! she even washes me now. I can live without -moving either arms or legs; she has taken all the cares of the household -on her own shoulders.” -</p> - -<p> -Then the architect related how “he had settled those jokers of the -Ministry of Public Instruction.” -</p> - -<p> -“Just fancy, my dear fellow, they made no end of a fuss about the work -I’ve done at Evreux, You see, I wished, above all, to please the bishop. -Only, the range for the new kitchens and the heating apparatus have come -to more than twenty thousand francs. No credit was voted for them, and it -is not easy to get twenty thousand francs out of the small sum allowed for -repairs.” -</p> - -<p> -They laughed all round the table, without the least respect for the -Ministry, of which they spoke with disdain, their mouths full of rice. -Rose declared that it was best to be on the side of religion. Ever since -the works at Saint-Roch, Achille was overwhelmed with orders; the greatest -families would employ no one else; it was impossible for him to attend to -them all; he would have to work all night as well as all day. God wished -them well, most decidedly, and the family returned thanks to Him, both -night and morning. -</p> - -<p> -They were having dessert, when Campardon exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -“By the way, my dear fellow, you know that Duveyrier has found ————” -</p> - -<p> -He was about to name Clarisse. But he recollected that Angèle was present, -so, casting a side glance toward his daughter, he added: -</p> - -<p> -“He has found his relative, you know.” -</p> - -<p> -And, biting his lip and winking his eye, he at length made himself -understood by Octave, who at first did not in the least catch what he -meant. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, Trublot, whom I met, told me so. The day before yesterday, when it -was pouring in torrents, Duveyrier stood up inside a doorway, and who do -you think he saw there? why, his relative shaking out her umbrella. -Trublot had been seeking her for a week past, so as to restore her to -him.” -</p> - -<p> -Angèle had modestly lowered her eyes onto her plate, and began swallowing -enormous mouthfuls. The family rigorously excluded all indecent words from -their conversation. -</p> - -<p> -“Is she good looking?” asked Rose of Octave. -</p> - -<p> -“That’s a matter of taste,” replied the latter. “Some people may think -so.” -</p> - -<p> -“She had the audacity to come to the shop one day,” said Gasparine, who, -in spite of her own skinniness, detested thin people. “She was pointed out -to me. A regular bean-stalk.” -</p> - -<p> -“All the same,” concluded the architect, “Duveyrier’s hooked again. His -poor wife———” -</p> - -<p> -He intended saying that Clotilde was probably relieved and delighted. -Only, he remembered a second time that Angèle was present, and put on a -doleful air to declare: -</p> - -<p> -“Relations do not always agree together. Yes! every family has its -worries.” -</p> - -<p> -Lisa, on the other side of the table, with a napkin on her arm, looked at -Angèle, and the latter, seized with a mad fit of laughter, hastened to -take a long drink, and hide her face in her glass. -</p> - -<p> -A little before ten o’clock, Octave pretended to be very fatigued, and -retired to his room. In spite of Rose’s affectionate ways, he was ill at -ease in that family circle, where he felt Gasparine’s hostility to him to -be ever on the increase. Yet, he had never done anything to her. She -detested him for being a handsome man, she suspected him of having -overcome all the women of the house, and that exasperated her, though she -did not desire him the least in the world, but merely yielded, at the -thought of his happiness, to the instinctive anger of a woman whose beauty -had faded too soon. -</p> - -<p> -Directly he had left, the family talked of retiring for the night. Before -getting into bed, Rose spent an hour in her dressing-room every evening. -She proceeded to wash and scent herself all over, then did her hair, -examined her eyes, her mouth, her ears, and even placed a tiny patch under -her chin. At night-time, she replaced her luxury of dressing-gowns by a -luxury of night-caps and chemises. -</p> - -<p> -On that occasion she selected a chemise and a cap trimmed with -Valenciennes lace. Gasparine had assisted her, handing her the basins, -wiping up the water she spilt, drying her with a soft towel, little things -which she did far better than Lisa. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! I do feel comfortable!” said Rose at length, stretched out in her -bed, whilst the cousin tucked in the sheets and raised the bolster. -</p> - -<p> -And she laughed with delight, all alone in the middle of the big bed. With -her soft, delicate, and spotless body, reclining amidst the lace, she -looked like some beautiful creature awaiting the idol of her heart. When -she felt herself pretty, she slept better, she used to say. Besides, it -was the only pleasure left her. -</p> - -<p> -“Is it all right?” asked Campardon, entering the room. “Well! good-night, -little duck.” -</p> - -<p> -He pretended he had some work to do. He would have to sit up a little -longer. But she grew angry, she wished him to take some rest; it was -foolish to work himself to death like that! -</p> - -<p> -“You hear me, now go to bed. Gasparine, promise me to make him go to bed.” -</p> - -<p> -The cousin, who had just placed a glass of sugar and water, and one of -Dickens’ novels on the night table, looked at her. Without answering, she -bent over and said: -</p> - -<p> -“You are so nice, this evening!” -</p> - -<p> -And she kissed her on both cheeks, with her dry lips and bitter mouth, in -the resigned manner of a poor and ugly relation. Campardon, his face very -red, and suffering from a difficult digestion, also looked at his wife. -His mustache quivered slightly as he kissed her in his turn. -</p> - -<p> -“Good night, my little duck.” -</p> - -<p> -“Good night, my darling. Now, mind you go to bed at once.” -</p> - -<p> -“Never fear!” said Gasparine. “If he’s not in bed asleep at eleven -o’clock, I’ll get up and put his lamp out.” -</p> - -<p> -Toward eleven o’clock, Campardon, who was yawning over a Swiss cottage, -the fancy of a tailor of the Rue Rameau, rose from his seat and undressed -himself slowly, thinking of Rose, so pretty and so clean; then, after -opening his bed, on account of the servants, he went and joined Gasparine -in hers. It was so narrow that they slept very uncomfortably in it, and -their elbows were constantly digging into each other’s ribs. He especially -always had one leg quite stiff in the morning, through his efforts to -balance himself on the edge of the mattress. -</p> - -<p> -At the same time, as Victoire had gone to her room, having finished her -washing up, Lisa came, in accordance with her usual custom, to see if -mademoiselle required anything more. Angèle was waiting for her -comfortably in her bed; and thus, every evening, unknown to the parents, -they had endless games at cards, on a corner of the counterpane, which -they spread out for the purpose. They played at beggar-my-neighbor, while -abusing cousin Gasparine, a dirty creature, whom the maid coarsely pulled -to pieces before the child. They both avenged themselves for their -hypocritical submission during the day, and Lisa took a low delight in -this corruption of Angèle, and in satisfying the curiosity of this sickly -girl, agitated by the crisis of her thirteen years. That night they were -furious with Gasparine, who, for two days past, had taken to locking up -the sugar, with which the maid filled her pockets, to empty them afterward -on the child’s bed. What a bear she was! now they were not even able to -get a lump of sugar to suck when going to sleep! -</p> - -<p> -“Yet, your papa gives her plenty of sugar!” said Lisa, with a sensual -laugh. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! yes!” murmured Angèle, laughing also. -</p> - -<p> -“What does your papa do to her? Come, show me.” -</p> - -<p> -Then the child caught the maid round the neck, pressed her in her bare -arms, and kissed her violently on the mouth, saying as she did so: -</p> - -<p> -“See! like this. See! like this.” -</p> - -<p> -Midnight struck. Campardon and Gasparine were moaning in their over-narrow -bed, whilst Rose, stretching herself out in the middle of hers, and -extending her limbs, was reading Dickens, with tears of emotion. A -profound silence followed; the chaste night cast its shadow over the -respectability of the family. -</p> - -<p> -On going up to his room, Octave found that the Pichons had company. Jules -called him in, and persisted on his taking a glass of something. Monsieur -and Madame Vuillaume were there, having made it up with the young people, -on the occasion of Marie’s churching, she having been confined in -September. They had even agreed to come to dinner one Tuesday, to -celebrate the young woman’s recovery, which only fully dated from the day -before. Anxious to pacify her mother, whom the sight of the child, another -girl, annoyed, she had sent it out to nurse, not far from Paris. Lilitte -was sleeping on the table, overcome by a glass of pure wine, which her -parents had forced her to drink to her little sister’s health. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! two may still be put up with!” said Madame Vuillaume, after -clinking glasses with Octave. “Only, don’t do it again, son-in-law.” -</p> - -<p> -The others all laughed. But the old woman remained perfectly grave. -</p> - -<p> -“There is nothing laughable in that,” she continued. “We accept this -child, but I swear to you that if another were to come——” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! if another came,” finished Monsieur Vuillaume, “you would have -neither heart nor brains. Dash it all! one must be serious in life, one -should restrain oneself, when one has not got hundreds and thousands to -spend in pleasures.” -</p> - -<p> -And, turning toward Octave, he added: -</p> - -<p> -“You see, sir, I am decorated. Well! I may tell you that, so as not to -dirty too many ribbons, I don’t wear my decoration at home. Therefore, if -I deprive my wife and myself of the pleasure of being decorated in our own -home, our children can certainly deprive themselves of the pleasure of -having daughters. No, sir, there are no little economies.” -</p> - -<p> -But the Pichons assured him of their obedience. They were not likely to be -caught at that game again! -</p> - -<p> -“To suffer what I’ve suffered!” said Marie, still quite pale. -</p> - -<p> -“I would sooner cut my leg off,” declared Jules. -</p> - -<p> -The Vuillaumes nodded their heads with a satisfied air. They had their -word, so they forgave them that time. And, as ten was striking by the -clock, they tenderly embraced all round; and Jules put on his hat to see -them to the omnibus. This resumption of the old ways affected them so much -that they embraced a second time on the landing. When they had taken their -departure, Marie, who stood watching them go down, leaning over the -balustrade, beside Octave, took the latter back to the dining-room, -saying: -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! mamma is not unkind, and she is quite right: children are no joke!” -</p> - -<p> -She had shut the door, and was clearing the table of the glasses which -still lay about. The narrow room, with its smoky lamp, was quite warm from -the little family jollification. Lilitte continued to slumber on a corner -of the American cloth. -</p> - -<p> -“I’m off to bed,” murmured Octave. -</p> - -<p> -But he sat down, feeling very comfortable there. -</p> - -<p> -“What! going to bed already!” resumed the young woman. “You don’t often -keep such good hours. Have you something to see to, then, early -to-morrow?” -</p> - -<p> -“No,” answered he. “I feel sleepy, that is all. Oh! I can very well stay -another ten minutes or so.” -</p> - -<p> -He just then thought of Berthe. She would not be coming up till half-past -twelve: he had plenty of time. And this thought, the hope of having her -with him for a whole night, which had been consuming him for weeks past, -no longer had the same effect on him. The fever of the day, the torment of -his desire counting the minutes, evoking the continual image of -approaching bliss, gave way beneath the fatigue of waiting. -</p> - -<p> -“Will you have another small glass of brandy?” asked Marie. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! yes, I don’t mind.” -</p> - -<p> -He thought that it would set him up a bit. When she had taken the glass -from him, he caught hold of her hands, and held them in his, whilst she -smiled, without the least alarm. He thought her charming, with her -paleness of a woman who had recently gone through a deal of suffering. All -the hidden tenderness with which he felt himself again invaded, ascended -with sudden violence to his throat, and to his lips. He had one evening -restored her to her husband, after placing a father’s kiss upon her brow, -and now he felt a necessity to take her back again, an acute and immediate -longing, in which all desire for Berthe vanished, like something too -distant to dwell upon. -</p> - -<p> -“You are not afraid, then, to-day?” asked he, squeezing her hands tighter. -</p> - -<p> -“No, since it has now become impossible. Oh! we shall always be good -friends!” -</p> - -<p> -And she gave him to understand that she knew everything. Saturnin must -have spoken. Moreover, she always noticed when Octave received a certain -person in his room. As he turned pale with anxiety, she hastened to ease -his mind: she would never say a word to any one, she was not angry, on the -contrary she wished him much happiness. -</p> - -<p> -“Come,” repeated she, “I’m married, so I can’t bear you any ill will.” -</p> - -<p> -He took her on his knees, and exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -“But it’s you who I love!” -</p> - -<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> -<img src="images/0325.jpg" alt="0325 " width="100%" /> -</div> - -<p> -And he spoke truly. At that moment he loved her and only her, and with an -absolute and infinite passion. All his new intrigue, the two months spent -in pursuing another, were as naught. He again beheld himself in that -narrow room, coming and kissing Marie on the neck, behind Jule’s back, -ever finding her willing, with her passive gentleness. This was true -happiness, how was it that he had disdained it? Regret almost broke his -heart. He still wished for her, and he felt that, if he had her no more, -he would be eternally miserable. -</p> - -<p> -“Let me be,” murmured she, trying to release herself. “You are not -reasonable, you will end by grieving me. Now that you love another, what -is the use of continuing to torment me?” -</p> - -<p> -She defended herself thus, in her gentle and irresolute way, merely -feeling a certain repugnance for what did not amuse her much. But he was -getting crazy, he squeezed her tighter, he kissed her throat through the -coarse material of her woolen dress. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s you who I love, you cannot understand—Listen! on what I hold -most sacred, I swear to you I do not lie. Tear my heart open and see. Oh! -I implore you, be kind!” -</p> - -<p> -Marie, paralyzed by the will of this man, made a movement as though to -take slumbering Lilitte into the next apartment; but he prevented her, -fearing that she would awaken the child. The peacefulness of the house, at -that hour of the night, filled the little room with a sort of buzzing -silence. Suddenly the lamp went down, and they were about to find -themselves in the dark, when Marie, rising, was just in time to wind it up -again. -</p> - -<p> -Tears filled her eyes, and she remained sad, though still without anger. -When he left her, he felt dissatisfied, he would have liked to have gone -to sleep. But the other one would be there shortly, he must wait for her, -and this thought weighed terribly on him; after having spent feverish -nights in concocting extravagant plans for getting her to visit him in his -room, he longed for something to happen which would prevent her from -coming up. Perhaps she would once again fail to keep her word. It was a -hope with which he scarcely dared delude himself. -</p> - -<p> -Midnight struck. Octave, quite tired out, stood listening, fearing to hear -the rustling of her skirts along the narrow passage. At half past twelve, -he was seized with real anxiety; at one o’clock, he thought himself saved, -but a secret irritation mingled with his relief, the annoyance of a man -made a fool of by a woman. But, just as he made up his mind to undress -himself, yawning for want of sleep, there came three gentle taps at the -door. It was Berthe. He felt both annoyed and flattered, and advanced to -meet her with open arms, when she motioned him aside, and stood trembling -and listening against the door, which she had hastily shut after her. -</p> - -<p> -“What is the matter?” asked he, in a low voice. -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know, I was frightened,” stammered she. “It is so dark on the -stairs, I thought that somebody was following me. Dear me! how stupid all -this is! Some harm is sure to happen to us.” -</p> - -<p> -This chilled them both. They did not even kiss each other. -</p> - -<p> -“I am going back,” said she, without leaving her chair. -</p> - -<p> -“What, you are going?” -</p> - -<p> -“Do you think I sell myself? You are always hurting my feelings; you have -again spoilt all my pleasure to-night. Why did you buy it, when I forbade -you to do so?” -</p> - -<p> -She got up, and at length consented to look at it. But, when she opened -the box, she experienced such a disappointment, that she could not -restrain this indignant exclamation: -</p> - -<p> -“What! it is not Chantilly at all, it is llama!” -</p> - -<p> -Octave, who was reducing his presents, had yielded to a miserly idea. He -tried to explain to her that there was some superb llama, quite equal to -Chantilly; and he praised up the article, just as though he had been -behind his counter, making her feel the lace, and swearing that it would -last her forever. But she shook her head, and silenced him by observing -contemptuously. -</p> - -<p> -“The long and short of it is, this costs one hundred francs, whereas the -other would have cost three hundred.” -</p> - -<p> -And, seeing him turn pale, she added, so as to soften her words: “You are -very kind all the same, and I am much obliged to you. It is not the value -which makes the present, when one’s intention is good.” -</p> - -<p> -She sat down again, and a pause ensued. She was still quite upset by her -silly fright on the stairs! And she returned to her misgivings with -respect to Rachel, relating how she had found Auguste whispering with the -maid behind the door. Yet, it would have been so easy to have bought the -girl over by giving her a five franc piece from time to time. But to do -this, it was necessary to have some five franc pieces; she never had one, -she had nothing. Her voice became harsh, the llama shawl, which she no -longer alluded to, was working her up to such a pitch of rancor and -despair, that she ended by picking the quarrel with her lover which had -already existed so long between her and her husband. -</p> - -<p> -“Come, now, is it a life worth living? never a sou, always at any one’s -mercy for the least thing! Oh! I’ve had enough of it, I’ve had enough of -it!” -</p> - -<p> -Octave, who was pacing the room, stopped short to ask her: -</p> - -<p> -“But why do you tell me all this?” -</p> - -<p> -“Eh? sir, why? But there are things which delicacy alone ought to tell -you, without my being made to blush by having to discuss such matters with -you. Ought you not, long ere now, and without having to be told, to have -made me easy by bringing this girl to our feet?” -</p> - -<p> -She paused, then she added, in a tone of disdainful irony: -</p> - -<p> -“It would not have ruined you.” -</p> - -<p> -There was another silence. The young man, who was again pacing the room, -at length replied: -</p> - -<p> -“I am not rich, and I regret it for your sake.” -</p> - -<p> -Then matters went from bad to worse, the quarrel assumed quite conjugal -violence. -</p> - -<p> -“Say that I love you for your money!” cried she, with all the bluntness of -her mother, whose very words seemed to come to her lips. “I am a -money-loving woman, am I not? Well! yes, I am a money-loving woman, -because I am a sensible woman. It is no use pretending the contrary; money -will ever be money in spite of everything. As for me, whenever I have had -twenty sous, I have always pretended that I had forty, for it is better to -create envy than pity.” -</p> - -<p> -He interrupted her to say, in a weary voice, like a man who only desires -peace. -</p> - -<p> -“Listen, if it annoys you so much that it’s a llama shawl, I will give you -one in Chantilly.” -</p> - -<p> -“Your shawl!” continued she, in a regular fury, “why, I’ve already -forgotten all about your shawl! The other things are what exasperate me, -understand! Oh! moreover, you’re just like my husband. You wouldn’t care a -bit if I hadn’t a pair of boots to go out in. Yet, when one loves a woman, -good nature alone should prompt one to feed and dress her. But no man will -ever understand that. Why, between the two of you, you would soon let me -go out with nothing on but my chemise, if I was agreeable!” -</p> - -<p> -Octave, tired out by this domestic squabble, decided not to answer, having -noticed that Auguste sometimes got rid of her in that way. He let pass the -flow of words, and thought of the ill-luck of his amours. Yet, he had -ardently desired this one, even to the point of upsetting all his -calculations; and, now that she was in his room, it was to quarrel with -him, to make him pass a sleepless night, as though they had already left -six months of married life behind them. -</p> - -<p> -And full of conciliation, without desire, but polite, he tried to kiss -her. She pushed him away, and burst into tears. -</p> - -<p> -“Go on, reproach me also with my outings,” stammered she in the midst of -her sobs. “Accuse me of being too great an expense to you. Oh! I see -clearly now; it’s all on account of that wretched present. If you could -shut me up in a box, you would do so. I have lady friends; I go to call on -them; that is no crime. And as for mamma——” -</p> - -<p> -“For heaven’s sake leave your mamma alone,” interrupted Octave; “and allow -me to tell you that she has given you a precious bad temper.” -</p> - -<p> -She mechanically commenced to undress herself, and becoming more and more -excited, she raised her voice. -</p> - -<p> -“Mamma has always done her duty. It’s not for you to speak of her here. I -forbid you to mention her name. It only remained for you to attack my -family!” -</p> - -<p> -Finding a difficulty in undoing the string of her petticoat, she broke it. -Then, seating herself on the edge of the bed, her bosom heaving with anger -in the midst of the surrounding lace of her chemise, she continued: -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! how I regret my weakness, sir! how one would reflect, if one could -only foresee everything!” -</p> - -<p> -Octave, who had made a show of lying with his face to the wall, suddenly -bounced round, exclaiming: -</p> - -<p> -“What! you regret having loved me?” -</p> - -<p> -“Most certainly, a man incapable of understanding a woman’s heart!” -</p> - -<p> -And they looked at each other close together, with hardened faces, quite -devoid of love. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! good heavens! if it were only to come over again!” added she. -</p> - -<p> -“You would take another, wouldn’t you?” said he, brutally and in a very -low voice. -</p> - -<p> -She was about to answer fin the same exasperated tone, when there came a -sudden hammering at the door. Not understanding at first what it meant, -they remained immovable, and their blood seemed to freeze in their veins. -A hollow voice said: -</p> - -<p> -“Open the door, I can hear you at your dirty tricks. Open, or I will burst -it in!” -</p> - -<p> -It was the husband’s voice. Still the lovers did not move, their heads -were filled with such a buzzing that they could think of nothing; and they -felt very cold, just like corpses. Berthe at length jumped from the bed, -with an instinctive desire to fly from her lover, whilst, on the other -side of the door, Auguste repeated: -</p> - -<p> -“Open! open, I say!” -</p> - -<p> -Then ensued a terrible confusion, an inexpressible anguish. Berthe turned -about the room in a state of distraction, seeking for some outlet, with a -fear of death which made her turn ghastly pale. Octave, whose heart jumped -to his mouth at each blow, had gone and mechanically leant against the -door, as though to strengthen it. The noise was becoming unbearable, the -fool would wake the whole house up, he would have to open the door. But, -when she understood his determination, she hung onto his arms, imploring -him with terrified eyes; no, no, mercy! the other would rush upon them -with a pistol or a knife. He, as pale as herself, and partly overcome by -her fright, slipped on his trousers, and beseeched her to dress herself. -Still bewildered, she only managed to put on her stockings. All this time -the husband continued his uproar. -</p> - -<p> -“You won’t; you don’t answer. Very well, you’ll see.” -</p> - -<p> -Every since he had last paid his rent, Octave had been asking his landlord -for some slight repairs—two new screws in the staple of his lock, -which scarcely held to the wood. Suddenly the door cracked, the staple -yielded, and Auguste, unable to stop himself, rolled into the middle of -the room. -</p> - -<p> -“Damnation!” swore he. -</p> - -<p> -He simply held a key in his hand, which was bleeding through becoming -grazed in his fall. When he got up, livid, and filled with rage and shame -at the thought of his ridiculous entry, he hit out into space, and wished -to spring upon Octave. But the latter, in spite of the awkwardness of -being barefooted and having his trousers all awry, seized him by the -wrists, and, being the stronger of the two, mastered him, at the same time -exclaiming: -</p> - -<p> -“Sir, you are violating my domicile. It is disgraceful; you should act -like a gentleman.” -</p> - -<p> -And he almost beat him. During their short struggle, Berthe had made off -in her chemise by the door which had remained wide open; she fancied she -beheld a kitchen knife in her husband’s bleeding fist, and she seemed to -feel the cold steel between her shoulders. As she rushed along the dark -passage, she thought she heard the sound of blows, without being able to -make out who had dealt them, or who received them. Voices, which she no -longer recognized, were saying: -</p> - -<p> -“I am at your service whenever you please.” -</p> - -<p> -“Very well, you will hear from me.” -</p> - -<p> -With a bound she gained the servants’ staircase. But when she had rushed -down the two flights, as though there had been the flames of a -conflagration behind her, she found the kitchen door locked, and -remembered she had left the key up-stairs in the pocket of her -dressing-gown. Moreover, there was no lamp; not the least glimmer of a -light beneath the door; it was evidently the servant who had sold them. -Without stopping to take breath, she tore up-stairs again, passing once -more before the passage leading to Octave’s room, where the two men’s -voices still continued in violent altercation. -</p> - -<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> -<img src="images/0333.jpg" alt="0333 " width="100%" /> -</div> - -<p> -They were going on abusing each other; she would have time, perhaps. And -she rapidly descended the grand staircase, with the hope that her husband -had left their outer door open. She would bolt herself in her room, and -open to nobody. But there, for the second time, she encountered a locked -door. Then, shut out from her home, with scarcely a covering to her body, -she lost her head, and scampered from floor to floor, like some hunted -animal which knows not where to take earth. She would never have the -courage to knock at her parents’ door. At one moment she thought of taking -refuge with the doorkeepers, but shame drove her up-stairs again. She -listened, raised her head, bent over the hand-rail, her ears deafened by -the beating of her heart in the profound silence, her eyes blinded by -lights which seemed to shoot out from the dense obscurity. And it was -always the knife, the knife in Auguste’s bleeding fist, the icy cold point -of which was about to pierce her. Suddenly there was a noise; she fancied -he was coming, and she shivered to her very marrow; and, as she was -opposite Campardons’ door, she rang desperately, furiously, almost -breaking the bell. -</p> - -<p> -“Good heavens! is the house on fire?” asked an agitated voice inside. -</p> - -<p> -The door opened at once. It was Lisa, who was only then leaving -mademoiselle, walking softly, and with a candlestick in her hand. The mad -ringing of the bell had made her start, just as she was crossing the -ante-room. When she caught sight of Berthe in her chemise, she stood -rooted to the spot. -</p> - -<p> -“What’s the matter?” asked she. -</p> - -<p> -The young woman had entered, violently slamming the door behind her; and, -panting and leaning against the wall, she stammered out: -</p> - -<p> -“Hush! keep quiet! He wants to kill me.” -</p> - -<p> -Lisa was trying to get a sensible explanation from her, when Campardon -appeared, looking very anxious. This incomprehensible uproar had disturbed -Gasparine and him in their narrow bed. He had simply slipped on his -trousers, and his fat face was swollen and covered with perspiration, -whilst his yellow beard was quite flaccid and full of the white down of -the pillow. He was all out of breath, and endeavoring to assume the -assurance of a husband who sleeps alone. -</p> - -<p> -“Is that you, Lisa?” called he from the drawing-room. “It’s absurd! How is -it you’re not up-stairs?” -</p> - -<p> -“I was afraid I had not fastened the door properly, sir; I could not sleep -for thinking of it, so I came down to make sure. But it’s madame——” -</p> - -<p> -The architect, seeing Berthe leaning against the wall of his anteroom with -nothing but her chemise on, stood lost in amazement also. Berthe forgot -how scantily she was clad. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! sir, keep me here,” repeated she. “He wants to kill me.” -</p> - -<p> -“Who does?” asked he. -</p> - -<p> -“My husband.” -</p> - -<p> -The cousin now put in an appearance behind the architect. She had taken -time to don a dress, and, her hair untidy and also full of down, her -breast flat and hanging, her bones almost protruding through her garment, -she brought with her the rancor arising from her interrupted repose. The -sight of the young woman, of her plump and delicate nudity, only increased -her ill-humor. -</p> - -<p> -“Whatever have you done, then, to your husband?” she asked. -</p> - -<p> -At this simple question Berthe was overcome by a great shame. She -remembered she was half-naked, and blushed from head to foot. In this long -thrill of shame, she crossed her arms over her bosom, as though to escape -the glances directed at her. And she stammered out: -</p> - -<p> -“He found me—he caught me——” -</p> - -<p> -The two others understood, and looked at each other with indignation in -their eyes. Lisa, whose candle lighted up the scene, pretended to share -her master’s reprehension. At this moment, however, the explanation was -interrupted by Angèle also hastening to the spot; and she pretended to -have just woke up, rubbing her eyes heavy with sleep. The sight of the -lady with nothing on her but a chemise suddenly brought her to a -standstill, with a jerk, a quivering of her precocious young girl’s -slender body. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh!” she simply exclaimed. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s nothing; go back to bed!” cried her father. -</p> - -<p> -Then, understanding that some sort of story was necessary, he related the -first that came into his head, but it was really too ludicrous. -</p> - -<p> -“Madame sprained her ankle coming down-stairs, so she’s come here for -assistance. Go back to bed; you’ll catch cold!” -</p> - -<p> -Lisa choked back a laugh on encountering Angèle’s wide-open eyes, as the -latter returned to her bed, all rosy, and quite delighted at having seen -such a sight. For some minutes past Madame Campardon had been calling from -her room. She had not put her light out, being so interested in her -Dickens, and she wished to know what had happened. What did it all mean? -who was there? why did not some one come to set her mind at rest? -</p> - -<p> -“Come, madame,” said the architect, taking Berthe with him. “And you, -Lisa, wait a minute.” -</p> - -<p> -In the bed-room, Rose was still spread out in the middle of the big bed. -She throned there with her queenly luxury, her quiet serenity of an idol. -She was deeply affected by what she had read, and she had placed the book -on her breast, with the heavings of which it gently rose and fell. When -the cousin in a few words had made her acquainted with what had taken -place, she also appeared to be scandalized. How could one go with a man -who was not one’s husband? and she was filled with disgust for that which -was denied to her. But the architect now cast confused glances at the -young woman, and this ended by making Gasparine blush. -</p> - -<p> -“It is shocking!” cried she. “Cover yourself up, madame, for it is really -shocking! Pray cover yourself up!” -</p> - -<p> -And she herself threw a shawl of Rose’s over Berthe’s shoulders, a large -knitted woolen shawl which was lying about. It did not reach to her knees, -however, and in spite of himself the architect’s eyes wandered over the -young woman’s person. -</p> - -<p> -Berthe was still trembling. Though she was in safety, she kept starting -and looking toward the door. Her eyes were full of tears, and she -beseeched this lady, who seemed so calm and comfortable as she lay in bed: -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! madame, keep me, save me. He wants to kill me.” -</p> - -<p> -A pause ensued. The three were consulting one another with their eyes, -without hiding their disapproval of such culpable conduct. Besides, it was -not proper to come in a state of nudity and wake people up after midnight, -and perhaps put them to great inconvenience. No, such a thing was not -right; it showed a want of discretion, besides placing them in a very -awkward position. -</p> - -<p> -“We have a young girl here,” said Gasparine at length. “Think of our -responsibility, madame.” -</p> - -<p> -“You would be better with your parents,” insinuated the architect, “and if -you will allow me to see you to their door——” -</p> - -<p> -Berthe was again seized with terror. -</p> - -<p> -“No, no! He is on the stairs; he would kill me.” -</p> - -<p> -And she implored him to let her remain: a chair was all she needed to wait -on till morning; on the morrow, she would go quietly away. The architect -and his wife would have consented; he won over by such tender charms; she -interested by the drama of this surprise in the middle of the night. But -Gasparine remained inflexible. Yet she had her curiosity to satisfy, and -she ended by asking: -</p> - -<p> -“Wherever were you?” -</p> - -<p> -“Up-stairs, in the room at the end of the passage, you know.” -</p> - -<p> -At this, Campardon held up his arms and exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -“What! with Octave! it isn’t possible!” -</p> - -<p> -With Octave, with that bean-stalk, such a pretty, plump little woman! He -was annoyed. Rose, also, felt vexed, and was now inclined to be severe. As -for Gasparine, she was quite beside herself, stung to the heart by her -instinctive hatred of the young man. He again! she knew very well that he -had them all; but she was certainly not going to be so stupid as to keep -them warm for him in her home. -</p> - -<p> -“Put yourself in our place,” resumed she, harshly. “I tell you again we -have a young girl here.” -</p> - -<p> -“Besides,” said Campardon, in his turn, “there is the house to be -considered; there is your husband, with whom I have always been on the -best of terms. He would have a right to be surprised. It will never do for -us to appear to publicly approve your conduct, madame, oh! a conduct which -I do not permit myself to judge, but which is rather—what shall I -say?—rather indiscreet, is it not?” -</p> - -<p> -“We are certainly not going to cast stones at you,” continued Rose. “Only, -the world is so wicked! People will say that you had your meetings here. -And, you know, my husband works for some very strait-laced people. At the -least stain on his morality, he would lose everything. But, allow me to -ask you, madame, how is it you were not restrained by religion? The Abbé -Mauduit was talking to us of you quite paternally, only the day before -yesterday.” -</p> - -<p> -Berthe turned her head about between the three of them, looking at the one -who spoke, in a bewildered sort of way. In the midst of her fright, she -was beginning to understand; she felt surprised at being there. Why had -she rang; what was she doing amongst these people whom she disturbed? She -saw them clearly now—the wife occupying the whole width of the bed, -the husband in his drawers, and the cousin in a thin skirt, the pair of -them white with the feathers of the same pillow. They were right; it was -not proper to tumble amongst people in that way. And, as the architect -pushed her gently toward the ante-room, she went off without even -answering Rose’s religious regrets. -</p> - -<p> -“Shall I accompany you as far as your parents’ door?” asked Campardon. -“Your place is with them.” -</p> - -<p> -She refused, with a terrified gesture. -</p> - -<p> -“Then, wait a moment; I will take a look up and down the stairs, for I -should deeply regret if the least harm happened to you.” -</p> - -<p> -Lisa had remained in the middle of the ante-room, with her candle. He took -it, went out onto the landing, and returned almost immediately. -</p> - -<p> -“I assure you there is no one. Run up quick.” -</p> - -<p> -Then Berthe, who had not again opened her lips, hastily took off the -woolen shawl, and threw it on the floor, saying: -</p> - -<p> -“Here! this is yours. It’s no use keeping it, as he’s going to kill me!” -</p> - -<p> -And she went out into the darkness, with nothing on but her chemise, the -same as when she came. Campardon double locked the door in a fury, -murmuring the while: -</p> - -<p> -“Eh! go and get tumbled elsewhere!” -</p> - -<p> -Then, as Lisa burst out laughing behind him, he added: -</p> - -<p> -“It’s true, they’d be coming every night, if one received them. Every one -for himself. I would have given her a hundred francs: but my reputation! -no, by Jove!” -</p> - -<p> -In the bed-room, Rose and Gasparine were recovering themselves. Had any -one ever seen such a shameless creature? to walk about the staircase with -nothing on! Really! there were women who respected nothing, at certain -times! But it was close upon two o’clock; they must get to sleep. And they -embraced again: good night, my darling—good night, my duck. Eh! was -it not nice to love each other, and to always agree together, when one -beheld such catastrophes occurring in other families? Rose again took up -her Dickens; he supplied all her requirements; she would read a few more -pages, then let the book slip into the bed, the same as she did every -night, and fall off asleep, weary with emotion. Campardon followed -Gasparine, made her get into bed first, and then laid himself down beside -her. They both grumbled; the sheets had become cold again; they were not -at all comfortable; it would take them another half-hour to get warm. -</p> - -<p> -And Lisa, who, before going up-stairs, had returned to Angèle’s room, was -saying to her: -</p> - -<p> -“The lady has sprained her ankle. Come, show me how she sprained it.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why! like this!” replied the child, throwing herself on the maid’s neck, -and kissing her on her lips. -</p> - -<p> -Berthe was on the stairs shivering. It was cold, the heating apparatus was -not lighted till the beginning of November. Her fright had at length -abated. She had gone down and listened at her door: nothing, not a sound. -Then she had gone up, not daring to venture as far as Octave’s room, but -listening from a distance: there was a death-like silence, unbroken by a -murmur. -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly, a noise affrighted her, causing her to jump up, and she was -about to hammer with both her fists on her mother’s door, when some one -calling out stopped her. -</p> - -<p> -It was a voice almost as faint as a zephyr. -</p> - -<p> -“Madame—madame—” -</p> - -<p> -She looked down-stairs, but saw nothing. -</p> - -<p> -“Madame—madame—it’s I.” -</p> - -<p> -And Marie showed herself in her chemise also. She had heard all the -disturbance, and had slipped out of bed, leaving Jules asleep, whilst she -remained listening in her little dining-room without a light. -</p> - -<p> -“Come in. You are in trouble. I am a friend.” -</p> - -<p> -She gently reassured her, and told her all that had taken place. The men -had not hurt each other: he had cursed and swore, and pushed the chest of -drawers up against his door, to shut himself in; whilst the other had gone -down-stairs with a bundle in his hand, the things she had left behind, her -shoes and petticoat, which he must have rolled up mechanically in her -dressing-gown, on seeing them lying about. In short, it was all over. It -would be easy enough to prevent them fighting on the morrow. -</p> - -<p> -But Berthe remained standing on the threshold with a remnant of fear and -shame at thus entering the abode of a lady whom she did not habitually -frequent. Marie was obliged to lead her in by the hand. -</p> - -<p> -“You will sleep there, on that sofa. I will lend you a shawl, and I will -go and see your mother. Good heavens! what a misfortune! When one is in -love, one does not stop to think.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! for the little pleasure we had!” said Berthe, with a sigh, which was -full of the cruelty and stupidity of her unprofitable night. “He does -right to swear. If he’s like me, he’s had more than enough of it!” -</p> - -<p> -They were on the point of speaking of Octave. They said nothing further, -but suddenly fell sobbing into each other’s arms in the dark. Their limbs -clasped with a convulsive passion, their bosoms, hot with tears, were -pressed close together beneath their crumpled chemises. It was a final -weariness, an immense sadness, the end of everything. They did not say -another word, whilst their tears flowed, flowed without ceasing, in the -midst of the darkness and of the profound slumber of that house so full of -decency. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> -CHAPTER XV. -</h2> - -<p class="pfirst"> -<span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hat morning the -house awoke with a great middle-class dignity. Nothing of the staircase -preserved a trace of the scandals of the night, neither the imitation -marble which had reflected that gallop of a woman in her chemise, nor the -Wilton carpet from which all the odor of her semi-nudity had evaporated. -Monsieur Gourd alone, when he went up-stairs toward seven o’clock to give -his look round, sniffed at the walls; but what did not concern him, did -not concern him; and as, on going down-stairs again, he saw two of the -servants in the courtyard, Lisa and Julie, who were no doubt discussing -the catastrophe, for they seemed deeply interested, he stared at them so -fixedly that they at once separated. Then he went outside to make sure of -the tranquillity of the street. It was calm. Only, the servants must -already have been talking, for some of the neighbors’ wives stopped, -tradespeople came to their shop doors, looking up in the air, examining -and searching the different floors, in the gaping way in which the crowd -scrutinizes houses where a crime has been committed. In the presence of -the rich frontage, however, people held their tongues and politely passed -on. -</p> - -<p> -At half-past seven, Madame Juzeur appeared in a dressing-gown, to look -after Louise, she said. Her eyes sparkled, and her hands were feverishly -hot. She stopped Marie, who was going up with her milk, and endeavored to -get her to talk; but she could draw nothing out of her, and did not even -learn how the mother had received her guilty daughter. Then, under the -pretense of waiting a minute for the postman, she entered the Gourds’ -room, and ended by asking why Monsieur Octave did not come down; perhaps -he was ill. The doorkeeper replied that he did not know; moreover, -Monsieur Octave never came down before ten minutes past eight. At this -moment, the other Madame Campardon, pale and erect, passed by; every one -bowed to her. And Madame Juzeur, obliged to go up-stairs again, had the -luck, on reaching the landing, to meet the architect just starting off and -putting on his gloves. At first they both looked at each other in a -dejected sort of way; then he shrugged his shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -“Poor things!” murmured she. -</p> - -<p> -“No, no, it serves them right!” said he ferociously. “An example must be -made of them. A fellow whom I introduce into a respectable house, -beseeching him not to bring any women there, and who, to humbug me, goes -and sleeps with the landlord’s sister-in-law! I look like a fool in it -all!” -</p> - -<p> -No more was said. Madame Juzeur entered her apartments, whilst Campardon -continued on his way down-stairs in such a state of fury that he tore one -of his gloves. -</p> - -<p> -Just as eight o’clock was striking, Auguste, looking very dejected, his -features contracted by an atrocious headache, crossed the courtyard to go -to his warehouse. Filled with shame, and dreading to meet any one, he had -come down by way of the servants’ staircase. However, he could not leave -his business to take care of itself. When in the midst of his counters, -and before the pay-desk where Berthe usually sat, his emotion almost -choked him. The porter was taking down the shutters, and Auguste was -giving the orders for the day, when the abrupt appearance of Saturnin -coming up from the basement gave him an awful fright. The madman’s eyes -were like flames of fire, his white teeth resembled a famished wolf’s. He -went straight up to the husband, clenching his fists. -</p> - -<p> -“Where is she? If you touch her, I’ll bleed you to death like a pig!” -</p> - -<p> -Auguste drew back, exasperated. -</p> - -<p> -“Here’s this one, now!” -</p> - -<p> -“Shut up, or I’ll bleed you!” repeated Saturnin, making a rush at him. -</p> - -<p> -Then the husband preferred to beat a retreat. He had a horror of madmen; -one could not reason with such people. But, as he went out into the porch, -calling to the porter to shut Saturnin up in the basement, he found -himself face to face with Valérie and Théophile. The latter, who had -caught a frightful cold, was wrapped up in a big red comforter, and -coughed and moaned. They must both have known everything, for they stopped -before Auguste with an air of condolence. Since the quarrel about the -inheritance, the two couples had been sworn enemies, and were no longer on -speaking terms. -</p> - -<p> -“You still have a brother,” said Théophile, shaking him by the hand, when -he had finished coughing. “I wish you to remember it in your misfortune.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” added Valérie, “this ought to avenge me, for she said some filthy -things to me, did she not? But we pity you all the same, for we are not -quite heartless.” -</p> - -<p> -Auguste, deeply touched by their kind manner, led them to the end of his -warehouse, keeping an eye on Saturnin, who was prowling about. And, there, -their reconciliation became complete. Berthe’s name was not mentioned; -only, Valérie allowed it to be understood that all the unpleasantness -arose from that woman, for there never had been a disagreeable word said -in the family till she had entered it to dishonor them. Auguste, his eyes -cast on the ground, listened and nodded his head approvingly. And a -certain gayety gleamed beneath Théophile’s commiseration, for he was -delighted at no longer being the only one, and he examined his brother’s -face to see how a person looks when in that awkward position. -</p> - -<p> -“Now, what have you decided to do?” inquired he. -</p> - -<p> -“To challenge him, of course!” firmly replied the husband. -</p> - -<p> -Théophile’s joy was spoilt. His wife and he became cooler, in the presence -of Auguste’s courage. The latter related to them the frightful scene of -the night—how, having been foolish enough to hesitate purchasing a -pistol, he had been forced to content himself with merely slapping the -gentleman’s face; and to tell the truth, the gentleman had done the same -to him, but that did not prevent his having received a pretty good hiding! -A scoundrel who had been making a fool of him for six months past by -pretending to take his part against his wife, and whose impudence had gone -as far as making reports respecting her on the days she went out! As for -her, the creature, as she had gone to her parents, she could remain with -them; he would never take her back. -</p> - -<p> -“Would you believe that last month I allowed her three hundred francs for -her dress!” cried he. “I who am so kind, so tolerant, who had decided to -put up with everything sooner than make myself ill! But one cannot put up -with that—no! no! one cannot!” -</p> - -<p> -Théophile was thinking of death. He trembled feverishly, and almost choked -as he said: -</p> - -<p> -“It’s absurd, you will get spitted. I would not fight.” -</p> - -<p> -And, as Valérie looked at him, he added, in an embarrassed manner: -</p> - -<p> -“If such a thing happened to me.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! the wretched woman!” then murmured his wife, “when one thinks that -two men are going to kill each other on account of her! In her place I -could never sleep again.” -</p> - -<p> -Auguste remained firm. He would fight. Moreover, his plans were settled. -As he particularly wished Duveyrier to be second, he was going up to -inform him of what had taken place, and to send him at once to Octave. -Valérie, who was most obliging to Auguste, ended by offering to attend at -the pay-desk, to give him time to find a suitable person. -</p> - -<p> -“Only,” added she, “I must take Camille to the Tuileries gardens toward -two o’clock.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! it does not matter for once in a way!” said her husband. “It’s -raining, too.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, no, the child wants air. I must go out.” -</p> - -<p> -At length the two brothers went up to the Duveyriers’. But an abominable -fit of coughing obliged Théophile to stop on the very first stair. He held -on the hand-rail, and, when he was able to speak, though still with a -slight rattle in his throat, he stammered: -</p> - -<p> -“You know, I’m very happy now; I’m quite sure of her, No; I’ve not the -least thing to reproach her with, and she has given me proofs.” -</p> - -<p> -Auguste stared at him without comprehending, and saw how yellow and half -dead he looked, with the scanty hairs of his beard drying up in his flabby -flesh. The look completed Théophile’s annoyance, whilst he felt quite -embarrassed by his brother’s valor. -</p> - -<p> -“I am speaking of my wife,” he resumed. “Ah! poor old fellow, I pity you -with all my heart! You recollect my stupidity on your wedding day. But -with you there can be no mistake, as you saw them.” -</p> - -<p> -“Bah!” said Auguste, doing the brave, “I’ll spit him like a lark. On my -word, I shouldn’t care a hang if I hadn’t such a headache!” -</p> - -<p> -Just as they rang at the Duveyriers’ door, Théophile suddenly thought that -very likely the counselor would not be in, for since the day he had found -Clarisse, he had been drifting into bad habits, and had now even got to -the point of sleeping out. Hippolyte, who opened the door to them, avoided -answering with respect to his master; but he said that the gentlemen would -find madame playing her scales. They entered. Clotilde, tightly laced up -from the moment she got out of bed, was seated at her piano, practicing -with a regular and continuous movement of her hands; and, as she went in -for this kind of exercise for two hours every day, so as not to lose the -lightness of her touch, she occupied her mind in another way, by reading -the “Revue des deux Mondes,” which stood open on the piano before her, -without the agility of her fingers being in any way hampered. -</p> - -<p> -“Why! it’s you!” said she, when her brothers had drawn her from the volley -of notes, which isolated and enveloped her like a storm of hail. -</p> - -<p> -And she did not even show her surprise when she caught sight of Théophile. -The latter, moreover, kept himself very stiff, like a man who had come on -another’s account. Auguste, filled with shame at the thought of telling -his sister of his misfortune, and afraid of terrifying her with his duel, -had a story all ready. But she did not give him time to lie, she -questioned him in her quiet way, after looking at him intently. -</p> - -<p> -“What do you intend doing now?” -</p> - -<p> -He started and blushed. So every one knew it, then? and he answered in the -brave tone which had already closed Théophile’s mouth: -</p> - -<p> -“Why, fight, of course!” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah!” said she, greatly surprised this time. -</p> - -<p> -However, she did not disapprove. It would increase the scandal, but yet -honor had to be satisfied. She contented herself with recalling that she -had at first opposed the marriage. One could expect nothing of a young -girl who appeared to be ignorant of all a woman’s duties. Then, as Auguste -asked her where her husband was: -</p> - -<p> -“He is traveling,” answered she, without the least hesitation. -</p> - -<p> -Then he was quite distressed, for he did not wish to do anything before -consulting Duveyrier. She listened to him, without mentioning the new -address, unwilling to acquaint her family with her home troubles. At -length she hit on an expedient: she advised him to go to Monsieur -Bachelard, in the Rue d’Enghien; perhaps he would be able to tell him -something. And she returned to her piano. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s Auguste who asked me to come up,” Théophile, who had not spoken -until then, thought it necessary to declare. “Will you let me kiss you, -Clotilde? We are all in trouble.” -</p> - -<p> -She presented her cold cheek, and said: -</p> - -<p> -“My poor fellow, only those are in trouble who choose to be. As for me, I -forgive every one. And take care of yourself, you seem to me to have a -very had cough.” -</p> - -<p> -Then, calling to Auguste, she added: -</p> - -<p> -“If the matter does not get settled, let me know, for I shall then be very -anxious.” -</p> - -<p> -The storm of notes recommenced, enveloping and drowning her; and, whilst -her nimble fingers practiced the scales in every key, she gravely resumed -her reading of the “Revue des deux Mondes,” in the midst of it all. -</p> - -<p> -Down-stairs, Auguste for a moment discussed the question whether he should -go to Bachelard’s or not. How could he say to him: “Your niece has -deceived me?” At length, he decided to obtain Duveyrier’s address from the -uncle, and to tell him nothing. Everything was settled: Valérie would look -after the warehouse, whilst Théophile would watch the home, until his -brother’s return. The latter had sent for a cab, and he was just going -off, when Saturnin, who had disappeared a moment before, came up from the -basement with a big kitchen knife, which he flourished about, as he cried: -</p> - -<p> -“I’ll bleed him! I’ll bleed him!” -</p> - -<p> -This created another scare. Auguste, turning very pale, jumped -precipitately into the cab, and pulled the door to, saying: -</p> - -<p> -“He’s got another knife! Wherever does he find all those knives? I beseech -you, Théophile, send him away, try and arrange that he shall no longer be -here when I come back. As though what has already happened were not bad -enough for me!” -</p> - -<p> -The porter had hold of the madman by his shoulders. Valérie told the -driver the address. But he, a fat and filthy looking man, with a face the -color of bullock’s blood, and still drunk from the night before, did not -hurry himself, but took his time to gather up the reins and make himself -comfortable on the box. -</p> - -<p> -“By distance, governor?” asked he, in a hoarse voice. -</p> - -<p> -“No, by the hour, and quickly please. There will be something handsome for -yourself.” -</p> - -<p> -In the Rue d’Enghein, he met with another vexation. To begin with, the -commission agent’s doorway was so blocked up with vans that he almost got -crushed; then he found himself in the courtyard with the glass roof, -amidst a crowd of packers all violently nailing up cases, and not one of -whom could tell him where Bachelard was. The hammering seemed to split his -skull. He was, however, making up his mind to wait for the uncle, when an -apprentice, pitying his suffering look, came and whispered an address in -his ear: Mademoiselle Fifi, Rue Saint-Marc, third floor. Old Bachelard was -most likely there. -</p> - -<p> -“Where do you say?” asked the driver, who had fallen asleep. -</p> - -<p> -“Rue Saint-Marc, and a little faster, if it’s possible.” -</p> - -<p> -The cab resumed its funereal crawl. On the boulevards, the wheel caught in -an omnibus. The panels cracked, the springs uttered plaintive cries, a -gloomy melancholy more and more overcame the husband in his search of his -second. However, they at last reached the Rue Saint-Marc. -</p> - -<p> -On the third floor, the door was opened by a little old woman, plump and -white. She seemed suffering from some strong emotion, and she admitted -Auguste directly he asked for Monsieur Bachelard. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! sir, you are one of his friends, surely. Pray try to calm him. -Something happened to vex him a little while ago, the poor dear man. You -know me, no doubt, he must have spoken to you of me: I am Mademoiselle -Menu.” -</p> - -<p> -Auguste, feeling quite scared, found himself in a narrow room overlooking -the courtyard, and as clean and peaceful as a country home. One could -almost detect the odor of order and work, the purity of the happy -existence of people in a quiet way. Seated before an embroidery frame, on -which a priest’s stole was stretched, a fair young girl, pretty and having -a candid air, was weeping bitterly; whilst uncle Bachelard, standing up, -his nose inflamed, his eyes bloodshot, was driveling with rage and -despair. He was so upset that Auguste’s entry did not appear to surprise -him in the least. He immediately called upon him to bear witness, and the -scene continued. -</p> - -<p> -“Come now, Monsieur Vabre, who are an honest man, what would you say in my -place? I arrived here this morning a little earlier than usual. I entered -her room with the sugar from the café and three four-sou pieces, just for -a surprise for her, and I find her with that pig Gueulin! No, there, -frankly what would you say?” -</p> - -<p> -Auguste, greatly embarrassed, turned very red. He at first thought that -the uncle knew of his misfortune and was making a fool of him. But the -other added, without even waiting for a reply: -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! listen, mademoiselle, you don’t know what it is you have done! I who -was becoming young again, who felt so delighted at having found a nice -quiet little nook, where I was once more beginning to believe in -happiness! Yes, you were an angel, a flower, in short something fresh -which helped me to forget a lot of dirty women.” -</p> - -<p> -A genuine emotion contracted his throat, his voice choked in accents of -profound suffering. Everything was crumbling away, and he wept for the -loss of the ideal, with the hiccoughs of a remnant of drunkenness. -</p> - -<p> -“I did not know uncle,” stammered Fifi, whose sobs redoubled in presence -of this pitiful spectacle; “no, I did not know it would cause you so much -grief.” -</p> - -<p> -And indeed she did not look as if she did know. She retained her ingenuous -eyes, her odor of chastity, the naivete of a little girl unable as yet to -distinguish a gentleman from a lady. Aunt Menu, moreover, swore that at -heart she was innocent. -</p> - -<p> -“Do be calm, Monsieur Narcisse. She loves you well all the same. I felt -that it would not be very agreeable to you. I said to her: ‘If Monsieur -Narcisse learns this, he will be annoyed.’ But she has scarcely lived as -yet, has she? She does not know what pleases, nor what does not please. Do -not weep any more, as her heart is always for you.” -</p> - -<p> -As neither the child nor the uncle listened to her, she turned toward -Auguste, she told him how much more anxious such an adventure made her -feel for her niece’s future. -</p> - -<p> -“Perhaps you know Villeneuve, near Lille?” said she in conclusion. “I come -from there. It is a pretty large town———” -</p> - -<p> -But Auguste’s patience was at an end. He shook himself free of the aunt, -and turned toward Bachelard, whose noisy despair was calming down. -</p> - -<p> -“I came to ask you for Duveyrier’s new address. I suppose you know it.” -</p> - -<p> -“Duveyrier’s address, Duveyrier’s address,” stammered the uncle. “You mean -Clarisse’s address. Wait a moment.” -</p> - -<p> -And he went and opened the door of Fifi’s bed-room. Auguste was greatly -surprised on seeing Gueulin, whom the old man had locked in, come forth. -He had wished to give him time to dress himself, and also to detain him, -so as to decide afterward what he would do with him. The sight of the -young man looking all upset, his hair still unbrushed, revived his anger. -</p> - -<p> -“What! wretch! it’s you, my nephew, who dishonors me! You soil your -family, you drag my white hairs in the mire! Ah! you’ll end badly, we -shall see you one of these days in the dock of the assize-court!” -</p> - -<p> -Gueulin listened with bowed head, feeling at once both embarrassed and -furious. -</p> - -<p> -“I say, uncle, you’re going too far,” murmured he. “There’s a limit to -everything. I don’t think it funny either. Why did you bring me to see -mademoiselle? I never asked you. You dragged me here. You drag everybody -here.” -</p> - -<p> -But Bachelard, again overcome with tears, continued: -</p> - -<p> -“You’ve taken everything from me; I had only her left. You’ll be the cause -of my death, and I won’t leave you a sou, not a sou!” -</p> - -<p> -Then Gueulin, quite beside himself, burst out: -</p> - -<p> -“Go to the deuce! I’ve had enough of it! Ah! it’s as I’ve always told you! -here they come, here they come, the annoyances of the morrow! See how it -succeeds with me, when for once in a way I’ve been fool enough to take -advantage of an opportunity. Of course! the night was very pleasant; but, -afterward, go to blazes! one will be blubbering like a calf for the rest -of one’s life.” -</p> - -<p> -“I am in a great hurry,” Auguste ventured to observe. “Please give me the -address, just the name of the street and the number, I require nothing -further.” -</p> - -<p> -“The address,” said the uncle, “wait a bit, directly.” -</p> - -<p> -And, carried away by his feelings, which were overflowing, he caught hold -of Gueulin’s hands. -</p> - -<p> -“You ungrateful fellow, I was keeping her for you, on my word of honor! I -said to myself: If he’s good, I’ll give her to him. Oh! in a proper -manner, with a dowry of fifty thousand francs. And, you dirty beast! you -can’t wait, you go and take her like that, all on a sudden!” -</p> - -<p> -“No, let me be!” said Gueulin, affected by the old chap’s kindness of -heart. “I see very well that the annoyances are going to continue.” -</p> - -<p> -But Bachelard dragged him before the young girl and asked her: -</p> - -<p> -“Come now, Fifi, look at him, would you have loved him?” -</p> - -<p> -“If it would have pleased you, uncle,” answered she. -</p> - -<p> -This kind reply quite broke his heart. He wiped his eyes, blew his nose, -and almost choked. Well! he would see. He had always wished to make her -happy. And he suddenly sent Gueulin off about his business. -</p> - -<p> -“Be off. I will think about it.” -</p> - -<p> -Just as Gueulin was leaving, Bachelard called him back. -</p> - -<p> -“Kiss her on the forehead; I permit it.” -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p> -And then he went himself and put him outside the door, after which he -returned to Auguste, and, placing his hand on his heart, he said: -</p> - -<p> -“It’s no joke; I give you my word of honor that I intended giving her to -him, later on.” -</p> - -<p> -“And the address?” asked the other, losing all patience. -</p> - -<p> -The uncle appeared surprised, as though he had answered him before. -</p> - -<p> -“Eh? what? Clarisse’s address? Why, I don’t know it.” -</p> - -<p> -Auguste made an angry gesture. Everything was going wrong: there seemed to -be a regular plot to render him ridiculous! Seeing him so upset, Bachelard -made a suggestion. No doubt, Trublot knew the address, and they might find -him at his employer’s—the stockbroker, Desmarquay. And the uncle, -with the obliging manner of one accustomed to knock about, offered to -accompany his young friend. The latter accepted. -</p> - -<p> -“Listen!” said the uncle to Fifi, after kissing her in his turn on the -forehead: “here’s the sugar from the café, all the same, and three -four-sou bits for your money-box. Behave well whilst awaiting my orders.” -</p> - -<p> -The young girl, looking very modest, continued drawing her needle with -exemplary application. A ray of sunshine, coming from over a neighboring -roof, enlivened the little room, gilded this nook of innocence, into which -the noise of the passing vehicles did not even penetrate. All the poetry -of Bachelard’s nature was stirred. -</p> - -<p> -“May God bless you, Monsieur Narcisse!” said aunt Menu to him as she saw -him to the door. “I am more easy now. Only listen to the dictates of your -heart, for it will inspire you.” -</p> - -<p> -The driver had again fallen asleep, and he grumbled when the uncle gave -him Monsieur Desmarquay’s address in the Rue Saint-Lazare. No doubt the -horse was asleep also, for it required quite a hail of blows to get him to -move. At length the cab rolled painfully along. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s hard all the same,” resumed the uncle, after a pause. “You can’t -imagine the effect it had on me when I saw Gueulin in his shirt. No; one -must have gone through such a thing to understand it.” -</p> - -<p> -And he went on, entering into every detail, without noticing Auguste’s -increasing uneasiness. At length the latter, feeling his position becoming -falser and falser, told him why he was in such a hurry to find Duveyrier. -</p> - -<p> -“Berthe with that counter-jumper!” cried the uncle. “You astonish me, -sir!” -</p> - -<p> -And it seemed that his astonishment was especially on account of his -niece’s choice. However, after a little reflection, he became very -indignant. His sister Eléonore had a great deal to reproach herself with. -He would have nothing more to do with the family. Of course, he was not -going to mix himself up with the duel; but he considered it indispensable. -</p> - -<p> -“Thus, just now, when I saw Fifi with a man, my first thought was to -murder every one. If the same thing should ever happen to you——-” -</p> - -<p> -A painful start of Auguste’s caused him to interrupt himself. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! true, I was forgetting. My story does not interest you.” -</p> - -<p> -Another pause ensued, whilst the cab swayed in a melancholy fashion. -</p> - -<p> -“I told you Rue Saint-Lazare,” called out the uncle to the driver. “It -isn’t at Chaillot. Turn to the left.” -</p> - -<p> -At length the cab stopped. Out of prudence they sent up for Trublot, who -came down bareheaded to talk to them in the doorway. -</p> - -<p> -“You know Clarisse’s address?” asked Bachelard. -</p> - -<p> -“Clarisse’s address?” -</p> - -<p> -“Why, of course! Rue d’Assas.” -</p> - -<p> -They thanked him, and were about to re-enter their cab, when Auguste asked -in his turn: -</p> - -<p> -“What’s the number?” -</p> - -<p> -“The number! Ah! I don’t know the number.” -</p> - -<p> -At this, the husband declared that he preferred to give up seeing -Duveyrier altogether. Trublot did all he could to try and remember. He had -dined there once, it was just behind the Luxembourg; but he could not -recollect whether it was at the end of the street, or on the right or the -left, But he knew the door well; oh! he could have said at once, “That’s -it.” Then the uncle had another idea; he begged him to accompany them in -spite of Auguste’s protestations, and his talking of returning home and -not wishing to disturb any one any further. Trublot, however, refused in a -constrained manner. No, he would not trust himself in that hole again. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, I’m off, as Monsieur Trublot can’t come,” said Auguste, whose -worries were increased by all these stories. -</p> - -<p> -But Trublot then declared that he would accompany them all the same; only, -he would not go up; he would merely show them the door. And, after -fetching his hat, and giving a pretext for going out, he joined them in -the cab. “Rue d’Assas,” said he to the driver. “Straight down the street; -I’ll tell you when to stop.” -</p> - -<p> -The driver swore. Rue d’Assas, by Jove! there were people who liked going -about. However, they would get there when they did get there. The big -white horse steamed away without making hardly any progress, his neck -dislocated in a painful bow at every step. -</p> - -<p> -Bachelard was already relating his misfortune to Trublot. Such things -always made him talkative. Yes, with that pig Gueulin, a most delicious -little thing! But at this point of his story he recollected Auguste, who, -gloomy and doleful, was sitting in a heap in a corner of the cab. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! true; I beg your pardon!” murmured he; “I keep forgetting.” -</p> - -<p> -And, addressing Trublot, he added: -</p> - -<p> -“Our friend has met with a misfortune in his home also, and that is why we -are trying to find Duveyrier. Yes, he found his wife last night—” -</p> - -<p> -He finished with a gesture, then added simply: -</p> - -<p> -“Octave, you know.” -</p> - -<p> -Trublot, always plain-spoken, was about to say that it did not surprise -him. Only, he caught back his words, and replaced them by others, full of -disdainful anger, and the explanation of which the husband did not dare to -ask him for: -</p> - -<p> -“What an idiot that Octave is!” said he. -</p> - -<p> -At this appreciation of adultery there ensued another pause. Each of the -three men was buried in his own reflections. The cab scarcely moved at -all. It seemed to have been rolling for hours over a bridge, when Trublot, -who was the first to emerge from his thoughts, ventured on making this -judicious remark: -</p> - -<p> -“This cab doesn’t get along very fast.” -</p> - -<p> -But nothing could increase the horse’s pace. It was eleven o’clock when -they reached the Rue d’Assas. And there they wasted nearly another quarter -of an hour, for, in spite of Trublot’s boasts, he could not find the door. -At first he allowed the driver to go along the street to the very end -without stopping him; then he made him drive up and down three times over. -And, on his precise indications, Auguste kept entering every tenth house; -but the doorkeepers all answered that they knew no one of the name. At -length a green-grocer pointed out the door to him. He went in with -Bachelard, leaving Trublot in the cab. -</p> - -<p> -It was the big rascal of a brother who admitted them. He had a cigarette -stuck between his lips, and blew the smoke into their faces as he showed -them into the drawing-room. When they asked for Monsieur Duveyrier, he -stood looking at them in a jocular manner without answering. Then he -disappeared, perhaps to fetch him. In the middle of the blue satin -drawing-room, all luxuriously new, yet already stained with grease, one of -the sisters, the youngest, was seated on the carpet scouring out a -saucepan which she had brought from the kitchen; whilst the other, the -eldest, was hammering with her clenched fists on a magnificent piano, the -key of which she had just found. On seeing the gentlemen enter, they had -both raised their heads; neither, however, left off her occupation, but -continued on the contrary hammering and scouring more energetically than -ever. Five minutes passed, yet no one came. The visitors, feeling almost -deafened, stood looking at each, when some yells, issuing from a -neighboring room, completely terrified them; it was the invalid aunt being -washed. -</p> - -<p> -At length an old woman, Madame Bocquet, Clarisse’s mother, passed her head -through a partly opened door, not daring to show any more of her person, -because of the filthy dress she had on. -</p> - -<p> -“What do you gentlemen desire?” asked she. -</p> - -<p> -“Why, Monsieur Duveyrier!” exclaimed the uncle, losing patience. “We have -already told the servant. Let him know that Monsieur Auguste Vabre and -Monsieur Narcisse Bachelard wish to see him.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Bocquet shut the door again. The eldest of the sisters was now -mounted on the music stool, and was hammering with her elbows, whilst the -youngest was scraping the saucepan with an iron fork, so as to get all she -could out of it. Another five minutes passed by. Then, in the midst of the -uproar, which did not seem to disturb her in the least, Clarisse appeared. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! it’s you!” said she to Bachelard, without even looking at Auguste. -</p> - -<p> -“You know, my old fellow,” added she, “if you’ve come to tipple, you may -as well get out at once. The old life’s done with. I now intend to be -respected.” -</p> - -<p> -“We haven’t called on your account,” replied Bachelard, recovering -himself, used as he was to the lively receptions of such ladies. “We must -speak to Duveyrier.” -</p> - -<p> -Then Clarisse looked ar the other gentleman. She took him for a bailiff, -knowing that Alphonse was already in a mess. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! after all, I don’t care,” said she. “You can take him and keep him if -you like. It’s not so very pleasant to have to dress his pimples!” -</p> - -<p> -She no longer even took the trouble to conceal her disgust, certain, -moreover, that all her cruelties only attached him to her the more. -</p> - -<p> -And opening a door, she added: -</p> - -<p> -“Here! come along, as these gentlemen persist in seeing you.” -</p> - -<p> -Duveyrier, who seemed to have been waiting behind the door, entered and -shook their hands, trying to conjure up a smile. He no longer had the -youthful air of bygone days, when he used to spend the evening at her -rooms in the Rue de la Cerisaie; he looked overcome with weariness, he was -mournful and much thinner, starting at every moment, as though he were -uneasy about something behind him. -</p> - -<p> -Clarisse remained to listen. Bachelard, who did not intend to speak before -her, invited the counselor to lunch. -</p> - -<p> -“Now, do accept, Monsieur Vabre wants you. Madame will be kind enough to -excuse——” -</p> - -<p> -But the latter had at length caught sight of her sister hammering on the -piano, and she slapped her and turned her out of the room, taking the same -opportunity to cuff and drive away the little one with her saucepan. There -was a most infernal uproar. The invalid aunt in the next room again -started off yelling, thinking they were coming to beat her. -</p> - -<p> -“Do you hear, my darling?” murmured Duveyrier, “these gentlemen have -invited me to lunch.” -</p> - -<p> -But she was not listening to him, she was trying the instrument with -frightened tenderness. For a month past, she had been learning to play the -piano. It was the secret dream of her whole life, a far-away ambition the -realization of which could alone stamp her a woman of society. Having -satisfied herself that there was nothing broken, she was about to prevent -her lover from going, simply to annoy him, when Madame Bocquet once more -bobbed her head in at the door, again hiding her skirt. -</p> - -<p> -“Your music-master,” said she. -</p> - -<p> -At this Clarisse changed her mind, and called to Duveyrier: -</p> - -<p> -“That’s it, be off! I’ll lunch with Théodore. We don’t want you.” -</p> - -<p> -After kissing her on the hair, he discreetly withdrew, leaving her with -Théodore. In the ante-room, the big rascal of a brother asked him in his -jocular way for a franc for tobacco. Then, as they wont down-stairs, -Bachelard expressed surprise at his conversion to the charms of the piano, -and he swore he had never disliked it; he talked of the ideal, saying how -much Clarisse’s simple scales stirred his soul, yielding to his continual -mania for having a bright side to his coarse masculine appetites. -</p> - -<p> -Down below, Trublot had given the driver a cigar, and was listening to his -history with the liveliest interest. The uncle insisted on lunching at -Foyot’s; it was the proper time, and they could talk better whilst eating. -Then, when the cab had managed to start off again, he told everything to -Duveyrier, who became very grave. -</p> - -<p> -Auguste’s uneasiness seemed to have increased at Clarisse’s, where he had -not opened his mouth; and now, worn out by this interminable drive, his -head entirely a prey to a violent aching, he abandoned himself. -</p> - -<p> -When the counselor questioned him as to what he intended doing, he opened -his eyes, and remained a moment filled with anguish; then he repeated his -former phrase: -</p> - -<p> -“Why, fight, of course!” -</p> - -<p> -Only, his voice was weaker, and he added, as he closed his eyes, as though -to ask to be left alone: -</p> - -<p> -“Unless you have anything else to suggest.” -</p> - -<p> -Then the gentlemen held a grand council in the midst of the laborious -jolts of the vehicle. Duveyrier, the same as Bachelard, considered the -duel indispensable; and he was deeply affected by it, on account of the -blood likely to be spilt, a long black stream of which he pictured soiling -the stairs of his property; but honor demanded it, and one cannot compound -with honor. Trublot had broader views: it was too stupid to place one’s -honor in what out of decency he termed a woman’s frailty. And Auguste -approved what he said by a weary blink of his eyelids, thoroughly incensed -at last by the bellicose rage of the two others, whose duty it was on the -contrary to have been conciliatory. In spite of his fatigue, he was -obliged to relate once more the scene of the night before, the blow he had -given and the blow he had received; and soon the fact of the adultery was -lost sight of, the discussion bore solely upon these two blows: they were -commented upon, and analyzed, as a satisfactory solution was sought for. -</p> - -<p> -“What refinement!” Trublot ended by contemptuously saying. “If they hit -each other, well! they’re quits.” -</p> - -<p> -Duveyrier and Bachelard looked at one another, evidently shaken in their -opinions. But just then they arrived at the restaurant, and the uncle -declared that they would first of all have a good lunch. It would help to -clear their ideas. He stood treat, ordering a copious meal, with costly -dishes and wines, which kept them three hours in a private room. The duel -was not even once mentioned. From the very beginning, the conversation had -necessarily turned on the question of women; Fifi and Clarisse were during -the whole time explained, turned inside out, and pulled to pieces. -Bachelard now admitted himself to have been in the wrong, so as not to -appear to the counselor as having been vilely chucked over; whilst the -latter, taking his revenge for the evening when the uncle had seen him -weep in the middle of the empty rooms in the Rue de la Cerisaie, lied -about his happiness, to the point of believing in it and being affected by -it himself. Seated before them, Auguste, prevented by his neuralgia both -from eating and drinking, appeared to be listening, an elbow on the table, -and a confused look in his eyes. At dessert, Trublot recollected the -driver, who had been forgotten outside: and, full of sympathy, he sent him -the remnants of the dishes and what was left in the bottles; for, said he, -from certain things he had let drop, he had a suspicion the man was an -ex-priest. Three o’clock struck. Duveyrier complained of being assessor at -the next sitting of the assizes; Bachelard, who was now very drunk, spat -sideways onto Trublot’s trousers, without the latter noticing it; and the -day would have been finished there, amidst the liquors, if Auguste had not -suddenly roused himself with a start. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, what’s going to be done?” asked he. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! young ’un,” replied the uncle, speaking most familiarly, “if you -like, we’ll settle matters nicely for you. It’s stupid to fight.” -</p> - -<p> -No one appeared surprised at this conclusion. Duveyrier signified his -approval with a nod of the head. The uncle continued: -</p> - -<p> -“I’ll go with Monsieur Duveyrier and see the fellow, and he shall -apologize, or my name isn’t Bachelard. The mere sight of me will make him -cave in, just because I shall have no business there. I don’t care a hang -for anyone!” -</p> - -<p> -Auguste shook him by the hand; but he did not seem to feel relieved, the -pain in his head had become so unbearable. At length they left the private -room. Down in the street, the driver was still at lunch, inside the cab; -and, completely intoxicated, he had to shake the crumbs out, digging -Trublot fraternally in the stomach. Only the horse, which had had nothing -at all, refused to walk, with a despairing wag of the head. They pushed -him, and he ended by going down the Rue de Tournon, as though he were -rolling along. Four o’clock had struck, when the animal at length stopped -in the Rue de Choiseul. Auguste had had the cab seven hours. Trublot, who -remained inside, engaged it for himself, and declared that he would wait -there for Bachelard, whom he wished to invite to dinner. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! you have been a time,” said Théophile to his brother, as he -hastened to meet him. “I thought you were dead.” -</p> - -<p> -And directly the gentlemen had entered the warehouse, he related how the -day had passed. He had been watching the house ever since nine o’clock. -But nothing particular had occurred. At two o’clock, Valérie had gone to -the Tuileries gardens with their son Camille. Then, toward half past -three, he had seen Octave go out. And that was all. Nothing moved, not -even at the Josserands’. Saturnin, who had been seeking his sister under -the furniture, having gone up to ask for her, Madame Josserand had shut -the door in his face, doubtless to get rid of him, saying that Berthe was -not there. Since then, the madman had been prowling about with clenched -teeth. -</p> - -<p> -“Very well,” said Bachelard, “we’ll wait for the gentleman. We shall see -him come in from here.” -</p> - -<p> -Auguste, whose head was in a whirl, was making great efforts to keep on -his legs. Then Duveyrier advised him to go to bed. There was no other cure -for headache. -</p> - -<p> -“Go up now, we no longer require you. We will inform you of the result. My -dear fellow, you know you should avoid all emotions.” -</p> - -<p> -And the husband went up to lie down. -</p> - -<p> -At five o’clock, the two others were still waiting for Octave. The latter, -without any definite object, simply desirous of having some fresh air and -of forgetting the events of the night, had at first passed before “The -Ladies’ Paradise,” where he had stopped to wish Madame Hédouin good-day, -as she stood in the doorway, dressed in deep mourning; and as he informed -her of his having left the Vabres’, she had quietly asked him why he did -not return to her. -</p> - -<p> -Opposite to him, Valérie was taking leave of a bearded gentleman, at the -door of a low lodging-house in the darkest corner. She blushed and -hastened away, pushing open the padded door of the church; then, seeing -that the young man was following her and smiling, she preferred to await -him under the porch, where they conversed together very cordially. -</p> - -<p> -“You run away from me,” said he. “Are you, then, angry with me?” -</p> - -<p> -“Angry?” repeated she, “why should I be angry? Ah! they may quarrel and -eat each other up if they like, it doesn’t matter to me!” -</p> - -<p> -She was speaking of her relations. And she at once gave vent to her old -rancor against Berthe, making at first simply allusions so as to sound the -young man; then, when she felt he was secretly weary of his mistress, -being still exasperated with the night’s proceedings, she no longer -restrained herself, but poured out her heart. To think that that woman had -accused her of selling herself—she, who never accepted a sou, not -even a present! Yes, though, a few flowers at times, some bunches of -violets. And now everybody knew which of the two was the one to sell -herself. She had prophesied that one day it would be known how much she -could be bought for. -</p> - -<p> -“It cost you more than a bunch of violets, did it not?” asked she. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, yes,” murmured he basely. -</p> - -<p> -In his turn he let out some disagreeable things about Berthe, saying that -she was spiteful, and even making her out to be too fat, as though seeking -to avenge himself for the worry she was causing him. He had been waiting -all day for her husband’s seconds, and he was then returning home to see -if any one had called. It was a most stupid adventure; she might very well -have prevented this duel taking place. He ended by relating all that had -occurred at their ridiculous meeting—their quarrel, then Auguste’s -arrival on the scene, before they had even exchanged a caress. -</p> - -<p> -“On all I hold most sacred,” said he, “I had not even touched her.” -</p> - -<p> -Valérie laughed, and was getting quite excited. She gradually yielded to -the tender intimacy of this exchange of confidences, drawing nearer to -Octave as though to some female friend who knew all. At times, a devotee -coming from the church disturbed them; then the door generally closed to -again, and they once more found themselves alone in the drum, hung with -green baize, as though in the innermost recesses of some discreet and -religious asylum. -</p> - -<p> -“I scarcely know why I live with such people,” resumed she, returning to -the subject of her relations. “Oh! no doubt, I am not free from reproach -on my side. But, frankly, I cannot feel any remorse, they affect me so -little. And yet if I were to tell you how much love bores me!” -</p> - -<p> -“Come now, not so much as all that!” said Octave gayly. “People are not -always as silly as we were yesterday. There are blissful moments.” -</p> - -<p> -Then she confessed herself. It was not entirely the hatred she felt for -her husband, the continual fever which shook his frame, his impotence, nor -yet his perpetual blubbering like a little boy, which had caused her to -misbehave herself six months after her marriage; no, she often did it -involuntarily, solely because her head got filled with things of which she -was unable to explain the why and the wherefore. Everything gave way; she -became quite ill, and could almost kill herself. Then, as there was -nothing to restrain her, she might as well take that leap as another. -</p> - -<p> -“But really now, do you never have a nice time of it?” again asked Octave. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, never like people describe,” replied she. -</p> - -<p> -He looked at her full of a pitying sympathy. All for nothing, and without -the least pleasure. It was certainly not worth the trouble she gave -herself, in her continual fear of being caught. And he especially felt a -certain relief to his pride, for he had always suffered a little at heart -from her old disdain. He recalled the circumstance to her. -</p> - -<p> -“You remember, after one of your attacks?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! yes, I remember. Still, I did not dislike you; but listen! it is far -better as it is, we should be detesting each other now.” -</p> - -<p> -She gave him her little gloved hand. He squeezed it, as he repeated: -</p> - -<p> -“You are right; it is better as it is. Really, one only cares for the -women one has had nothing to do with.” -</p> - -<p> -It was quite a blissful moment. They stood for a while hand in hand, -deeply affected. Then, without another word, they pushed open the padded -door of the church, inside which she had left her son Camille in care of -the woman who let out the chairs. The child had fallen asleep. She made -him kneel down, and did the same herself for a minute, burying her face in -her hands, as though in the midst of a fervent prayer. And she was rising -to her feet when Abbé Mauduit, who was coming from a confessional, greeted -her with a paternal smile. -</p> - -<p> -Octave had simply passed through the church. When he returned home every -one was on the alert. In the doorway, as Octave passed, Lisa, who was -gossiping with Adèle, had to content herself with merely staring at him; -and both resumed their complaints of the dear price of poultry beneath the -stern look of Monsieur Gourd, who bowed to the young man. As the latter -was going up to his room, Madame Juzeur, who had been on the watch ever -since the morning, slightly opened her door, and, seizing hold of his -hands, drew him into her ante-room, where she kissed him on the forehead -and murmured: -</p> - -<p> -“Poor child! There, I won’t keep you. Come back and talk with me when it’s -all over.” -</p> - -<p> -And he had scarcely reached his own apartment when Duveyrier and Bachelard -called. At first, amazed at seeing the uncle, he wished to give them the -names of two of his friends. But these gentlemen, without answering, spoke -of their age, and preached him a sermon on his misconduct. Then, as in the -course of conversation he announced his intention of leaving the house at -the earliest possible moment, they both solemnly declared that that proof -of his discretion was quite sufficient. There had been more than enough -scandal; the time had come when respectable people had the right to expect -them to make the sacrifice of their passions. Duveyrier accepted Octave’s -notice to quit on the spot, and withdrew, whilst, behind his back, -Bachelard invited the young man to dine with him that evening. -</p> - -<p> -“Mind, I count upon you. We’re on the spree; Trublot is waiting below. I -don’t care a button for Eléonore. But I don’t wish to see her, and I’ll go -down first, so that no one shall meet us together.” -</p> - -<p> -He took his departure, and, five minutes later, Octave, delighted with the -issue of affairs, joined him below. He slipped into the cab, and the -melancholy horse, which had been dragging the husband about for seven -hours, limped along with them to a restaurant near the Halles, where some -marvelous tripe was to be obtained. -</p> - -<p> -Duveyrier had gone back to Théophile in the warehouse. Valérie also had -just come in, and all three were talking together when Clotilde herself -returned from a concert. She had gone there, moreover, with a mind -perfectly at ease, certain, said she, that some arrangement satisfactory -to every one would be arrived at. Then ensued a pause, a momentary -embarrassment between the two families. Théophile, seized with an -abominable fit of coughing, was almost spitting his teeth out. As it was -to their mutual interest to be reconciled, they ended by taking advantage -of the emotion into which the new family troubles had plunged them. The -two women embraced; Duveyrier swore to Théophile that the Vabre -inheritance was ruining him, yet he promised to indemnify him by remitting -his rent for three years. -</p> - -<p> -“I must go and tranquilize poor Auguste,” at length observed the -counselor. -</p> - -<p> -He was ascending the stairs, when some terrible cries, resembling those of -an animal being butchered, issued from the bed-room. It was Saturnin, who, -armed with his kitchen knife, had noiselessly crept as far as the alcove; -and there, his eyes as red as flaming coals, his mouth covered with foam, -he had rushed upon Auguste. -</p> - -<p> -“Tell me! where have you put her?” cried he. “Give her back to me, or I’ll -bleed you like a pig!” -</p> - -<p> -The husband, suddenly roused from his painful slumber, tried to fly. But -the madman, with the strength of his fixed idea, had caught him by the -tail of his shirt, and, pushing him back on the mattress, placing his neck -on the edge of the bed, over a basin which happened to be there, he held -him in the position of an animal at the slaughter-house. -</p> - -<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> -<img src="images/0365.jpg" alt="0365 " width="100%" /> -</div> - -<p> -“Ah! it’s all right this time. I’m going to bleed you—I’m going to -bleed you like a pig!” -</p> - -<p> -Fortunately, the others arrived and were able to release the victim. But -Saturnin, who was raving mad, had to be shut up: and, two hours later, the -commissary of police having been sent for, he was taken for the second -time to the Asile des Moulineaux, with the consent of the family. Poor -Auguste lay trembling. He said to Duveyrier, who informed him of the -arrangement that had been come to with Octave: -</p> - -<p> -“No, I should have preferred to have fought the duel. One cannot defend -oneself against a madman. Why has he such a mania for wishing to bleed me, -the brigand? because his sister has made a cuckold of me? Ah! I’ve had -enough of it, my friend, I’ve had enough of it, on my word of honor!” -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> -CHAPTER XVI. -</h2> - -<p class="pfirst"> -<span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>n the Wednesday -morning, when Marie brought Berthe to Madame Josserand, the latter, -bursting with anger at the thought of an adventure which she felt was a -sad blow to her pride, became quite pale and unable to utter a word. -</p> - -<p> -She caught hold of her daughter’s hand with the roughness of a teacher -dragging a refractory scholar to the black-hole, and, leading her to -Hortense’s room, she pushed her inside, saying at length: -</p> - -<p> -“Hide yourself, never show yourself again. You will kill your father if -you do.” -</p> - -<p> -“What’s up? Whatever have you done?” asked her sister, whose astonishment -increased on seeing her wrapped in an old shawl which Marie had lent her. -“Has poor Auguste fallen ill at Lyons?” -</p> - -<p> -But Berthe would not answer. No, later on; there were things she could not -speak about; and she beseeched Hortense to go away, to let her have the -room to herself, so that she could at least weep there in peace. The day -passed thus. Monsieur Josserand had gone off to his office, without having -the faintest idea of what had occurred; then, when he returned home in the -evening, Berthe still remained in hiding. As she had refused all food, she -ended by ravenously devouring the little dinner which Adèle brought to her -in secret. The maid remained watching her, and, in presence of her -appetite, said: -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t worry yourself so much, pick up your strength. The house is quite -quiet. And as for any one being killed or wounded, there’s nobody hurt at -all.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah!” said the young woman. -</p> - -<p> -She questioned Adèle, who gave her a long account of how the day had -passed; the duel which had not come off; what Monsieur Auguste had said, -and what the Duveyriers and the Vabres had done. She listened to her, and -seemed to live again, gobbling everything up, and asking for more bread. -In all truth it was foolish of her to take the matter so much to heart -when the others seemed to be already consoled! -</p> - -<p> -“So you won’t tell me?” asked Hortense again. -</p> - -<p> -“But, my darling,” answered Berthe, “you’re not married. I really can’t. -It’s a quarrel I’ve had with Auguste. He came back, you know——” -</p> - -<p> -And as she interrupted herself, her sister resumed, impatiently: -</p> - -<p> -“Get along with you! What a fuss! Good heavens! at my age, I’m quite old -enough to know!” -</p> - -<p> -Then Berthe confessed herself, at first choosing her words, then letting -out everything, talking of Octave and talking of Auguste. Hortense -listened as she lay on her back in the dark, and merely uttered a few -words to question her sister or to give an opinion: “What did he say to -you then? And you, how did you feel? Well, that’s funny; I shouldn’t like -that! Ah! really! so that’s the way!” Midnight, one o’clock, then two -struck; still they went on with the story, their limbs little by little -irritated by the sheets, and themselves gradually becoming drowsy. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! as for me, with Verdier, it will be very simple,” declared Hortense, -abruptly. “I shall do just as he wishes.” -</p> - -<p> -At the mention of Verdier’s name Berthe gave a movement of surprise. She -thought the marriage was broken off, for the woman with whom he had been -living for fifteen years past had just had a child, at the very moment -that he intended leaving her. -</p> - -<p> -“Do you, then, expect to marry him all the same?” asked she. “Well land -why not? I was stupid enough to wait too long. But the child will die. -It’s a girl, and all scrofulous.” -</p> - -<p> -“Poor woman!” Berthe was unable to help exclaiming. -</p> - -<p> -“How, poor woman!” cried Hortense, sourly. “It’s easy to see that you also -have things to reproach yourself with!” -</p> - -<p> -She at once regretted her cruelty, and, taking her sister in her arms, -kissed her, and swore that she did not mean it. Then they were silent. But -still they could not sleep, so continued the story, their eyes wide open -in the darkness. -</p> - -<p> -The next morning, Monsieur Josserand did not feel very well. Up till two -o’clock, he had persisted in addressing wrappers, in spite of a lowness of -spirits, and of a gradual loss of strength, of which he had been -complaining for some time. He got up, however, and dressed himself; but, -when he was on the point of starting for his office, he felt so feeble -that he sent a messenger with a letter to inform the brothers Bernheim of -his indisposition. -</p> - -<p> -The family were about to have their breakfast. On seeing her husband -remain, Madame Josserand decided not to hide Berthe any longer; she was -already sick of all the mystery, and was, moreover, expecting every minute -to see Auguste come up and create a disturbance. -</p> - -<p> -“What! you’re going to breakfast with us! whatever is the matter?” asked -the father in great surprise, on beholding his daughter, her eyes heavy -with sleep, her bosom half-bursting through Hortense’s too tight -dressing-gown. -</p> - -<p> -“My husband has written to say that he is obliged to stay at Lyons,” -answered she, “so I thought of spending the day with you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Is it really true? You are not hiding anything from me?” murmured he. -</p> - -<p> -“What an idea! why should I hide anything from you?” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand merely allowed herself to shrug her shoulders. What was -the use of all those precautions? to gain an hour, perhaps; it was not -worth while; the father would always have to receive the blow in the end. -The breakfast, however, passed off most pleasantly. -</p> - -<p> -But a regrettable scene spoilt the end of the breakfast. All on a sudden, -Madame Josserand addressed the servant: -</p> - -<p> -“Whatever are you eating?” -</p> - -<p> -For some little while past she had been watching her. Adèle, dragging her -shoes after her, turned clumsily round the table. -</p> - -<p> -“Nothing, madame,” replied she. -</p> - -<p> -“How! nothing! You’re chewing; I’m not blind. See! you’ve got your mouth -full of it. Oh! it’s no use drawing in your cheeks; it’s easy to see in -spite of that. And you’ve got some in your pocket, haven’t you?” -</p> - -<p> -Adèle became confused, and tried to draw back. But Madame Josserand caught -hold of her by the skirt. -</p> - -<p> -“For a quarter of an hour past, I’ve been watching you take something out -of there and thrust it under your nose, after hiding it in your hand. It -must be something very good. Let me see what it is.” -</p> - -<p> -She dived into the pocket in her turn, and withdrew a handful of cooked -prunes. The juice was still trickling from them. -</p> - -<p> -“What is this?” cried she furiously. -</p> - -<p> -“Prunes, madame,” said the servant, who, seeing herself caught, became -insolent. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! you eat my prunes! So that’s why they go so quickly and never again -appear on the table! I could never have believed it possible; prunes! in a -pocket!” -</p> - -<p> -And she also accused her of drinking her vinegar. Everything disappeared; -one could not even have a potato about without being certain of never -seeing it again. -</p> - -<p> -“You’re a regular gulf, my girl.” -</p> - -<p> -“Give me sufficient to eat,” retorted Adèle boldly, “and then I won’t -touch your potatoes.” -</p> - -<p> -This was too much. Madame Josserand rose from her seat, majestic and -terrible. -</p> - -<p> -“Hold your tongue, and don’t answer me! Oh! I know, it’s the other -servants who’ve spoilt you. Directly a simpleton arrives in a house from -the country, all the hussies in the place at once put her up to all sorts -of horrors. You no longer go to mass, and now you steal!” -</p> - -<p> -Adèle, who had indeed been worked up by Lisa and Julie, did not yield. -</p> - -<p> -“When I was a simpleton, as you say, you should not have taken advantage -of me. It’s ended now.” -</p> - -<p> -“Leave the room, I discharge you!” cried Madame Josserand, pointing to the -door with a tragical gesture. -</p> - -<p> -She sat down quite shaken, whilst the maid, without hurrying herself, -dragged her shoes after her, and swallowed another prune before returning -to the kitchen. -</p> - -<p> -The breakfast, however, finished in the most affectionate intimacy. -Monsieur Josserand, deeply moved, spoke of poor Saturnin, who had had to -be taken away the day before during his absence from home; and, as he -believed, in a sudden fit of raving madness, with which his son had been -seized in the middle of the shop, for such was the story that had been -told him. -</p> - -<p> -“How is the marriage getting on?” asked Monsieur Josserand, discreetly. -</p> - -<p> -At first the mother replied in well-chosen phrases, on account of -Hortense. Now, she was at the feet of her son, a young fellow who was sure -to succeed; and she would even throw his name in the father’s face at -times, saying that, thank goodness! he took after her, and would never -leave his wife without a pair of shoes. She little by little warmed with -her subject. -</p> - -<p> -“In short, he’s had enough of it! It was all very well for a while, and -did him no harm. But, if the aunt doesn’t give him the niece, good night! -he’ll cut off all supplies. I think he is quite right.” -</p> - -<p> -Hortense, out of decency, sipped her coffee, making a show of obliterating -herself behind the cup; whilst Berthe, who for the future might hear -anything, gave a slight pout of repugnance at her brother’s successes. The -family were about to rise from table, and Monsieur Josserand, who was more -cheerful and feeling much better, was talking of going to his office all -the same, when Adèle brought in a card. The person was waiting in the -drawingroom. -</p> - -<p> -“What, it’s her! and at this hour of the morning!” exclaimed Madame -Josserand. “And I who haven’t got my stays on! So much the worse! it’s -time I gave her a piece of my mind!” -</p> - -<p> -The visitor was Madame Dambreville. The father and his two daughters -remained talking in the dining-room, whilst the mother directed her steps -to the drawing-room. But she stopped at the door before opening it, and -anxiously examined her old green silk dress, trying to button it up, -picking off the threads gathered from the floors, and driving in her -immense bosom with a tap. -</p> - -<p> -“Excuse me, dear madame,” said the visitor, with a smile. “I was passing, -so could not resist calling to see how you were.” -</p> - -<p> -She was all laced up, and had her hair done in the most correct style, -while she conversed in the easy way of an amiable woman who had just come -up to wish a friend good-day. Only, her smile, trembled, and behind her -society graces one could detect a frightful anguish, with which her whole -frame quivered. She at first talked of all sorts of things, avoiding any -mention of Léon’s name, but at length she took from her pocket a letter -which she had just received from him. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! such a letter, such a letter,” murmured she, in an altered voice, -half-broken with sobs. “Whatever is it he has to complain of, dear madame? -He says he will never come to our house again!” -</p> - -<p> -And her feverish hand held out the letter, which quite shook as she -offered it to Madame Josserand. The latter read it coldly. It was a -breaking off of the acquaintance in three lines of most cruel conciseness. -</p> - -<p> -“Really!” said she, as she returned the letter, “Léon is not perhaps -altogether wrong——” -</p> - -<p> -But Madame Dambreville at once began to praise up the widow—a woman -scarcely thirty-five years old, most accomplished and sufficiently rich, -who would make a Minister of her husband, she was so active. In short, she -had kept her promises, she had found a fine match for Léon; whatever had -he to be angry about? And, without waiting for a reply, making up her mind -with a nervous start, she named Raymonde, her niece. Really, now, was it -possible? a chit of sixteen, a young savage who knew nothing of life! -</p> - -<p> -“Why not?” Madame Josserand kept repeating at each interrogation, “why -not, if he loves her?” -</p> - -<p> -No! no! he did not love her—he could not love her! Madame -Dambreville struggled, and gradually abandoned herself. -</p> - -<p> -“Come,” cried she, “I only ask him for a little gratitude. It’s I who have -made him, it’s thanks to me that he is an auditor, and he will receive a -higher appointment on his wedding day. Madame, I implore you, tell him to -return to me, tell him to do me that pleasure. I appeal to his heart, to -your motherly heart, yes, to all that is noble in your nature——” -</p> - -<p> -She clasped her hands, her words became inarticulate. A pause ensued, -during which they were standing face to face. Then suddenly she burst out -into the most bitter sobs, vanquished, and no longer mistress of herself. -</p> - -<p> -“Not with Raymonde,” stuttered she, “oh! no, not with Raymonde!” -</p> - -<p> -“Keep quiet, my dear, you make me quite ashamed,” replied Madame -Josserand, angrily. “I have daughters who might hear you. I know nothing, -and I don’t wish to know anything. If you have affairs with my son, you -must settle them together. I will never place myself in a questionable -position.” -</p> - -<p> -Yet she loaded her with advice. At her age, one should resign oneself to -the inevitable. -</p> - -<p> -“Just think, dear friend, he is not yet thirty. I should be grieved to -appear unkind, but you might be his mother. Oh, he knows what he owes you, -and I myself am filled with gratitude. You will remain his guardian angel. -Only, when a thing is ended, it is ended. You could not possibly have -hoped to have kept him always!” -</p> - -<p> -And as the wretched woman refused to listen to reason, wishing simply to -have him back, and at once, the mother grew quite angry. -</p> - -<p> -“Do have done, madame! It is kind on my part to be so obliging. The boy -will have no more of it! it is easily to be understood. Look at yourself, -pray! It is I now who would call him back to his duty, if he submitted -again to your exactions; for, I ask you, what good can there be in it for -both of you in future? It so happens that he is coming here, and if you -have counted on me——” -</p> - -<p> -Of all these words, Madame Dambreville only heard the last phrase. For a -week past she had been running about after Léon, without succeeding in -seeing him. Her face brightened up; she uttered this cry from her heart: -</p> - -<p> -“As he is coming, I shall stay!” -</p> - -<p> -From that moment she made herself at home, seating herself like a heavy -mass in an arm-chair, her eyes fixed on vacancy, declining any further -questioning with the obstinacy of an animal which will not yield, even -when beaten. Madame Josserand, bitterly regretting having said too much, -exasperated with this sort of mile-stone which had become a fixture in her -drawing-room, yet not daring to turn her out, ended by leaving her to -herself. Moreover, some sounds coming from the dining-room made her feel -uneasy. She fancied she recognized Auguste’s voice. -</p> - -<p> -“On my word of honor! madame, one never heard of such a thing before!” -said she, violently slamming the door. “It is most indiscreet!” -</p> - -<p> -It was indeed Auguste, who had come up to have the explanation with his -wife’s parents which he had been meditating since the day before. Monsieur -Josserand, feeling jollier still, and more inclined for a little enjoyment -than for office duties, was proposing a walk to his daughters, when Adèle -came and announced Madame Berthe’s husband. It created quite a scare. The -young woman turned pale. -</p> - -<p> -“What! your husband?” said the father. “But he was at Lyons! Ah! you were -not speaking the truth. There is some misfortune; for two days past I have -seemed to feel it.” -</p> - -<p> -And, as she rose from her seat, he detained her. -</p> - -<p> -“Tell me, have you been quarreling again? about money, is it not? Eh? -perhaps because of the dowry, of the ten thousand francs we have not paid -him?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, yes, that’s it,” stammered Berthe, who released herself and fled. -</p> - -<p> -Hortense also had risen. She ran after her sister, and both took refuge in -her room. -</p> - -<p> -“Come in, come in, my dear Auguste,” said he, in a choking tone of voice. -“Berthe has just told me of your quarrel. I’m not very well, and they’ve -been spoiling me. I regret immensely not being able to give you that -money. I did wrong in promising, I know—” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, sir, I know all. You completely took me in with your lies. I don’t -mind so much not having the money; but it’s the hypocrisy of the thing -which exasperates me! Why all that nonsense about an assurance which did -not exist? Why give yourself such airs of tenderness and affection, by -offering to advance sums which, according to you, you would not be -entitled to receive till three years later? And you were not even blessed -with a sou! Such behavior has only one name in every country.” -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Josserand opened his mouth to exclaim: “It is not I; it is them!” -But he was ashamed to accuse the family; he bowed his head, thus accepting -the responsibility of the disgraceful action. Auguste continued: -</p> - -<p> -“Moreover, every one was against me, even that Duveyrier behaved like a -rascal, with his scoundrel of a notary; for I asked to have the assurance -mentioned in the contract, as a guarantee, and I was made to shut up. Had -I insisted, though, you would have been guilty of swindling. Yes, sir, -swindling!” -</p> - -<p> -At this accusation, the father, who was very pale, rose to his feet, and -he was about to answer, to offer his labor, to purchase his daughter’s -happiness with all of his existence that remained to him, when Madame -Josserand, quite beside herself through Madame Dambreville’s obstinacy, no -longer thinking of her old green silk dress, now splitting, through the -heaving of her angry bosom, entered like a blast of wind. -</p> - -<p> -“Eh? what?” cried she; “who talks of swindling? Is it you, sir? You would -do better, sir, to go first to Père-Lachaise cemetery to see if it’s your -father’s pay-day!” -</p> - -<p> -Auguste had expected this, but he was all the same horribly annoyed. She -went on, with head erect, and quite crushing in her audacity: -</p> - -<p> -“We’ve got them, your ten thousand francs. Yes, they’re there in a drawer. -But we will only give them to you when Monsieur Vabre returns to give you -the others. What a family! a gambler of a father who lets us all in, and a -thief of a brother-in-law who pops the inheritance into his own pocket!” -</p> - -<p> -“Thief! thief!” stammered Auguste, unable to contain himself any longer; -“the thieves are here, madame!” -</p> - -<p> -They both stood with heated countenances in front of each other. Monsieur -Josserand, quite upset by all this wrangling, separated them. He beseeched -them to be calm; and, trembling all over, he was obliged to sit down -again. -</p> - -<p> -“Anyhow,” resumed the son-in-law, after a pause, “I won’t have any -strumpet in my house. Keep your money and keep your daughter That is what -I came up to tell you.” -</p> - -<p> -“You are changing the subject,” quietly observed the mother. “Very well, -we will discuss the fresh one.” -</p> - -<p> -“I told you she would deceive me!” cried Auguste, with an air of indignant -triumph. -</p> - -<p> -“And I answered that you were doing everything to lead to such a result!” -declared Madame Josserand, victoriously. “Oh! I do not pretend that Berthe -is right; what she has done is simply idiotic; and she won’t lose anything -by waiting. I shall let her know what I think of it. But, however, as she -is not present, I can state the fact—you alone are guilty.” -</p> - -<p> -“What! I guilty?” -</p> - -<p> -“Undoubtedly, my dear fellow. You don’t know how to deal with women. -Here’s an instance! Do you even deign to come to my Tuesday receptions? -No; you perhaps put in an appearance three times during the season, and -then only stay half-an-hour Though one may have headaches, one should be -polite. Oh! of course, it’s no great crime; anyhow, it judges you; you -don’t know how to live.” -</p> - -<p> -Her voice hissed with a slowly gathered rancor; for, on marrying her -daughter, she had above all counted on her son-in-law to fill her -drawing-room. And he brought no one; he did not even come himself; it was -the end of one of her dreams; she would never be able to struggle against -the Duveyriers’ choruses. -</p> - -<p> -“However,” added she, ironically. “I force no one to come and amuse -himself in my home.” -</p> - -<p> -“The truth is, it is not very amusing there,” replied he, out of all -patience. -</p> - -<p> -This threw her into a towering rage. -</p> - -<p> -“That’s it, insult away! Learn, sir, that I might have all the high life -of Paris if I wished, and that I was not looking to you to help me to keep -my rank in society!” -</p> - -<p> -There was no longer any question of Berthe; the adultery had disappeared -before this personal quarrel. Monsieur Josserand continued to listen to -them, as though he were tossing about in the midst of some nightmare. It -was not possible; his daughter could not have caused him this grief; and -he ended by painfully rising again from his seat and going, without saying -a word, in search of Berthe. Directly she was there, she would throw -herself into Auguste’s arms, and then everything would be explained and -forgotten. He found her in the midst of a quarrel with Hortense, who was -urging her to implore her husband’s forgiveness, having already had enough -of her, and being unwilling to share her room any longer. The young woman -resisted, yet she ended by following her father. As they returned to the -dining-room, where the breakfast cups were still scattered over the table, -Madame Josserand was exclaiming: -</p> - -<p> -“No, on my word of honor! I don’t pity you.” -</p> - -<p> -On catching sight of Berthe she stopped speaking, and again retired into -her stern majesty. When his wife appeared before him, Auguste made a -gesture of protest, as though to remove her from his path. -</p> - -<p> -“Come,” said Monsieur Josserand, in his gentle and trembling voice, “what -is the matter with you all? I can’t make it out; you will drive me mad -with all your quarreling. Your husband is mistaken, is he not, my child? -You will explain things to him. You must have a little consideration for -your old parents. Embrace each other; now, come, do it for my sake.” -</p> - -<p> -Berthe, who would all the same have kissed Auguste, stood there awkwardly, -and half-choked by her dressing-gown, on seeing him draw back with an air -of tragical repugnance. -</p> - -<p> -“What! you refuse to, my darling?” continued the father. “You should take -the first step, and you, my dear boy, encourage her; be indulgent.” -</p> - -<p> -The husband at length gave free vent to his anger. -</p> - -<p> -“Encourage her, not if I know it! I found her in her chemise, sir! and -with that man! Do you take me for a fool, that you wish me to kiss her! In -her chemise, sir!” -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Josserand stood lost in amazement. Then he caught hold of -Berthe’s arm. -</p> - -<p> -“You say nothing; can it be true? On your knees, then!” -</p> - -<p> -But Auguste had reached the door. He was hastening away. “Your comedies -are useless! they don’t take me in! Don’t try to shove her on my shoulders -again; I’ve had her once too often. You hear me; never again! I would -sooner go to law about it. Pass her on to some one else, if she’s in your -way. And, besides, you’re no better than she is!” -</p> - -<p> -He waited till he was in the ante-room, and then further relieved himself -by shouting out these last words: -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, when one makes a strumpet of one’s daughter, one should not push her -into a respectable man’s arms!” -</p> - -<p> -The outer door banged, and a profound silence ensued. Berthe had -mechanically gone back to her seat at the table, lowering her eyes, and -looking at the coffee dregs in the bottom of her cup; whilst her mother -sharply walked about, carried away by the tempest of her violent emotions. -The father, utterly worn out, and with a face as white as that of a -corpse, had sat down all by himself at the other end of the room, against -the wall. An odor of rancid butter—butter of inferior quality -purposely bought at the Halles—quite infected the apartment. -</p> - -<p> -“Now that that vulgar person has gone,” said Madame Josserand, “one may be -able to hear oneself speak. Ah! sir, these are the results of your -incapacity. Do you at length acknowledge your errors? think you that such -quarrels would be picked with either of the brothers Bernheim, with one of -the owners of the Saint-Joseph glass works?” -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Josserand, with a lifeless look in his eyes, had not even -stirred. She had stopped before him, with an enraged desire for a row; -then, seeing he did not move, she continued to pace the room. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, yes, be disdainful. You know it will not affect me much. And we will -see if you will again dare to speak ill of my relations after all that -yours have done. Uncle Bachelard is quite a star! my sister is most -polite! Listen; do you wish to know my opinion? Well! it is that if my -father had not died, you would have killed him. As for your father——” -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Josserand’s face became whiter than ever as he remarked: -</p> - -<p> -“I beseech you, Eléonore. I abandon my father to you, and also all my -relations. Only, I beseech you, let me be. I do not feel well.” -</p> - -<p> -Berthe, taking pity on him, raised her head. -</p> - -<p> -“Do leave him alone, mamma,” said she. -</p> - -<p> -So, turning toward her daughter, Madame Josserand resumed more violently -than ever: -</p> - -<p> -“I’ve been keeping you for the last; you won’t lose by waiting! Yes, ever -since yesterday I’ve been bottling it up. But, I warn you, I can no longer -keep it in—I can no longer keep it in. With that counter-jumper; I -can scarcely believe it! Have you, then, lost all pride? I thought that -you were making use of him, that you were just sufficiently amiable to -cause him to interest himself in the business down-stairs; and I assisted -you, I encouraged him. In short, tell me what advantage you saw in it -all?” -</p> - -<p> -“None whatever,” stammered the young woman. -</p> - -<p> -“Then, why did you take up with him? It was even more stupid than wicked.” -</p> - -<p> -“How absurd you are, mamma: one can never explain such things.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand was again walking about. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! you can’t explain! Well! but you ought to be able to! There is not -the slightest shadow of sense in misbehaving oneself like that, and it is -this which exasperates me! Did I ever tell you to deceive your husband? -did I ever deceive your father? He is here; ask him. Let him say if he -ever caught me with any other man.” -</p> - -<p> -Her pace slackened and became quite majestic, and she slapped herself on -her green bodice, driving her breasts back under her arms. -</p> - -<p> -“Nothing; not a fault, not the least forgetfulness, even in thought. My -life has been a chaste one. Yet God knows what I have had to put up with -from your father! I have had every excuse; many women would have avenged -themselves. But I had some sense, and that saved me. Before heaven!” said -she, “I swear I would have restrained myself, even if the Emperor had -pestered me! One loses too much.” -</p> - -<p> -She took a few steps in silence, apparently reflecting, and then added: -</p> - -<p> -“Moreover, it is the greatest possible shame.” -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Josserand looked at her, looked at his daughter, and his lips -moved, though no sound came from them; and his whole suffering being -conjured them to put an end to this cruel explanation. But Berthe, who -bent before violence, was wounded by her mother’s lesson. She at length -rebelled, for she was quite unconscious of her fault, thanks to the old -education which she had received when a girl in search of a husband. -</p> - -<p> -“Well!” said she, boldly planting her elbows on the table, “you should not -have made me marry a man I did not love. Now I hate him, and I have taken -another.” -</p> - -<p> -“In short, he bores me, and I bore him,” declared she. “It’s not my fault, -we don’t understand one another. As early as the morrow of our -wedding-day, he looked as though he thought we had taken him in; yes, he -was cold and put out, just like when he has a bad day’s sale. For my part, -I did not amuse myself particularly with him. Really! I don’t think much -of marriage if it offers no more pleasure than that! And that’s how it all -began. So much the worse! it was bound to come; I’m not the most guilty.” -</p> - -<p> -She left off speaking, but shortly added, with an air of profound -conviction: -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! mamma, how well I understand you now! You remember, when you told us -you had had more than enough of it.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand, standing up before her, had been listening for a minute -with indignant amazement. -</p> - -<p> -“Eh? I said that!” cried she. -</p> - -<p> -But Berthe, warming with her subject, would not stop. -</p> - -<p> -“You have said so twenty times. And, besides, I should have liked to have -seen you in my place. Auguste is not kind like papa. You would have been -fighting together about money matters before a week had passed. He would -precious soon have made you say that men are only good to be taken in!” -</p> - -<p> -“Eh? I said that!” repeated the mother, quite beside herself. -</p> - -<p> -She advanced so menacingly toward her daughter, that the father held out -his hands in a suppliant gesture imploring mercy. The sounds of the two -women’s voices struck him to the heart unceasingly; and, at each shock, he -felt the wound extend. Tears gushed from his eyes as he stammered: -</p> - -<p> -“Do leave off, spare me.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, it is dreadful!” resumed Madame Josserand, in louder tones than ever. -“This wretched creature now pretends I am the cause of her shamelessness! -You will see she will soon make out that it is I who have deceived her -husband. So, it’s my fault! for that is what you seem to mean. It’s my -fault!” -</p> - -<p> -Berthe remained with her elbows on the table, very pale, but resolute. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s very certain that, if you had brought me up differently——” -</p> - -<p> -She did not finish. Her mother gave her a clout with all her might, and -such a hard one that it hanged Berthe’s head down onto the table-cover. -Her hand had been itching to give it, ever since the day before; it had -been making her fingers tingle, the same as in those far-off days when the -child used to oversleep herself. -</p> - -<p> -“There!” cried she, “that’s for your education! Your husband ought to have -beaten you to a jelly.” -</p> - -<p> -The young woman did not rise, but sat there sobbing, her cheek pressed -against her arm. She forgot her twenty-four years, this clout brought her -back to the slaps of other times, to a whole past of timorous hypocrisy. -All her resolution of an emancipated grownup person melted away in the -great sorrow of a little girl. -</p> - -<p> -But, on hearing her weep so bitterly, the father was seized with a -terrible emotion. He at length got up, quite distracted, and he pushed the -mother away, saying: -</p> - -<p> -“You wish, then, to kill me between you? Tell me, must I go on my knees to -you?” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand, having relieved her feelings, and having nothing to add, -was withdrawing in a royal silence, when she found Hortense listening -behind the door as she suddenly opened it. This caused a fresh outburst. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! so you were listening to all this filth? The one does the most -horrible things, and the other takes a delight in hearing about them; the -two make the pair. But, good heavens! whoever was it that brought you up?” -</p> - -<p> -Hortense, without being in the least moved, entered the room. -</p> - -<p> -“It was not necessary to listen, one can even hear you in the kitchen. The -servant is wriggling with laughter. Besides, I’m old enough to be married; -there is no harm in my knowing.” -</p> - -<p> -“Verdier, eh?” resumed the mother bitterly. “That’s all the satisfaction -you give me. Now, you are waiting for the death of a brat. You may wait, -she’s big and plump, so I’ve been told. It serves you right.” -</p> - -<p> -A rush of bile gave a yellow hue to the young girl’s skinny countenance. -And, with clenched teeth, she replied: -</p> - -<p> -“Though she’s big and plump, Verdier can leave her. And I will make him -leave her sooner than you think, just to spite you all. Yes, yes, I will -get married without any one else’s assistance. They’re far too solid, the -marriages you put together!” -</p> - -<p> -Then, as her mother was advancing toward her, she added: -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! you know, I don’t intend to be slapped! Take care.” They looked each -other straight in the eyes, and Madame Josserand was the first to yield, -hiding her retreat beneath an air of scornful domination. But the father -thought the battle was going to begin again. In the midst of his sobs, he -kept repeating: -</p> - -<p> -“I can bear it no longer—I can bear it no longer—” -</p> - -<p> -The dining-room became once more wrapped in silence. Berthe, her cheek on -her arm, and still heaving long, nervous sighs, was growing calmer. -Hortense had quietly seated herself at the other end of the table, and was -buttering the remainder of a roll, so as to pull herself together again. -Well! butter at twenty-two sous could only be poison. And, as it left a -stinking deposit at the bottom of the saucepans, Adèle was explaining that -it was not even economical, when a dull thud, a distant shake of the -floor, suddenly caused them to listen intently. -</p> - -<p> -Berthe, all anxiety, at length raised her head. -</p> - -<p> -“What’s that!” asked she. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s perhaps madame and the other lady, in the drawing-room,” said Adèle. -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand had started with surprise, as she crossed the -drawing-room. A woman was there all alone. -</p> - -<p> -“What? you again?” cried she, when she had recognized Madame Dambreville, -whom she had forgotten. -</p> - -<p> -The latter did not stir. The family quarrels, the noisy voices, the -slamming of doors, seemed to have passed over her without her having felt -the least breath of them. She remained immovable, looking into vacancy, -buried in a heap in her love-sick mania. But there was something at work -within her, the advice of Léon’s mother had upset her, and was deciding -her to dearly purchase a few remnants of happiness. -</p> - -<p> -“Come,” resumed Madame Josserand, roughly, “you can’t, you know, sleep -here. I have had a note from my son, he is not coming.” -</p> - -<p> -Then Madame Dambreville spoke, her mouth all clammy from her long silence, -as though she were just waking up. -</p> - -<p> -“I am going, pray excuse me. And tell him from me that I have reflected. I -consent. Yes, I will reflect still further, and perhaps I may help him to -marry that girl, as he insists upon it. But it is I who give her to him, -and I wish him to ask me for her, me alone, you understand! Oh! he must -come back, he must come back!” -</p> - -<p> -Her ardent voice became quite beseeching. She added, in a lower tone, in -the obstinate way of a woman who, after sacrificing everything, clings to -a last satisfaction. -</p> - -<p> -“He shall marry her, but he must live with us. Otherwise nothing will be -done. I would sooner lose him.” -</p> - -<p> -And she went off. Madame Josserand was most charming again. In the -ante-room, she said all sorts of consoling things, she promised to send -her son submissive and tender, that very evening, affirming that he would -be delighted to live at his aunt-in-law’s. Then, when she had shut the -door behind Madame Dambreville’s back, filled with a pitying tenderness, -she thought: -</p> - -<p> -“Poor boy! what a price she will make him pay for it!” -</p> - -<p> -But, at this moment, she also heard the dull thud, which caused the boards -to tremble. Well? what was it? was the servant smashing all the crockery, -now? She hastened to the dining-room, and questioned her daughters. -</p> - -<p> -“What is it? Is the sugar-basin broken?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, mamma. We don’t know.” -</p> - -<p> -She turned round, looking for Adèle, when she beheld her listening at the -door of the bed-room. -</p> - -<p> -“Whatever are you doing?” cried she. “Everything is being smashed in your -kitchen, and your’re there spying on your master. Yes, yes, one begins -with prunes, and one ends with something else. For some time past, you -have had a way about you which greatly displeases me; you smell of men, my -girl——-” -</p> - -<p> -The servant stood looking at her with wide-open eyes. At length she -interrupted her. -</p> - -<p> -“That’s not what’s the matter. I think master has fallen down in there.” -</p> - -<p> -“Good heavens! she’s right,” said Berthe, turning pale, “it was just like -some one falling.” -</p> - -<p> -They entered the room. Monsieur Josserand, seized with a fainting fit, was -lying on the floor before the bed; his head had come in contact with a -chair, and a little stream of blood was issuing from the right ear. The -mother, the two daughters and the servant surrounded and examined him. -Berthe, alone, wept, again seized with the bitter sobs which the blow had -called forth. And, when the four of them raised him to place him on the -bed, they heard him murmur: -</p> - -<p> -“It’s all over. They’ve killed me.” -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> -CHAPTER XVII. -</h2> - -<p class="pfirst"> -<span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>onths passed by, -and spring had come again. At the house in the Rue de Choiseul, every one -was talking of the approaching marriage of Octave and Madame Hédouin. -</p> - -<p> -Matters, however, were not so far advanced. Octave was again in his old -place at “The Ladies’ Paradise,” the business of which developed daily. -Since her husband’s death, Madame Hédouin was unable to attend properly to -the incessantly growing concern by herself. Her uncle, old Deleuze, nailed -to his easy-chair by rheumatism, troubled himself about nothing; and, -naturally, the young man, who was very active and a constant prey to the -mania for doing business on a large scale, had in a little while reached a -position of decisive importance in the house. -</p> - -<p> -From this moment their relations became most intimate. They would shut -themselves for hours together in the small room right at the back. In -former days, when he had sworn to himself to seduce her, he had pursued -certain tactics there, trying to take advantage of her commercial -emotions, whispering figures close to her neck, watching for the days of -heavy takings to profit by her enthusiasm. Now, he was simply -good-natured, having no other aim but to push the business. He no longer -even desired her, though he retained the recollection of her gentle quiver -when waltzing with him on Berthe’s wedding night. Perhaps she had loved. -In any case it was best to remain as they were; for, as she justly said, -the business demanded a great amount of order, and it would be impolitic -to wish for things which would disturb them from morning till night. -</p> - -<p> -Seated together at the narrow desk, they would often forget themselves, -after going through the books and settling the orders. He would then -return to his dreams of enlargement. He had sounded the owner of the next -house, and had found him willing to sell. They would give notice to the -second-hand dealer and to the umbrella man, and then establish a special -department for silk. She, very grave, would listen, not daring to venture -yet. -</p> - -<p> -At length, as they sat side by side one evening examining some invoices -beneath the scorching flame of a gas-jet, she said slowly: -</p> - -<p> -“I have spoken to my uncle, Monsieur Octave. He consents, so we will buy -the house. Only——” -</p> - -<p> -He interrupted her joyfully to exclaim: -</p> - -<p> -“Then, the Vabres are done for!” -</p> - -<p> -She smiled, and murmured reproachfully: -</p> - -<p> -“Do you detest them, then? It is not proper on your part; you are the last -who should wish them ill.” -</p> - -<p> -She had never spoken to him of his relations with Berthe. This sudden -allusion embarrassed him immensely, without his exactly knowing why. He -blushed and tried to stammer out some explanation. -</p> - -<p> -“No, no, it does not concern me,” resumed she, still smiling and very -calm. “Excuse me, it quite escaped me; I never intended to speak to you on -the subject. You are young. So much the worse for those who are willing, -is it not so? It is the place of the husbands to guard their wives when -the latter are unable to guard themselves.” -</p> - -<p> -He experienced a sensation of relief, on understanding she was not angry. -He had often dreaded a coldness on her part if she came to know of his -former connection. -</p> - -<p> -“You interrupted me, Monsieur Octave,” resumed she, gravely. “I was about -to add that if I purchase the next house, and thus double the importance -of my business, it will be impossible for me to remain single. I shall be -obliged to marry again.” -</p> - -<p> -Octave sat lost in astonishment. What! she already had a husband in view, -and he was in ignorance of it! He at once felt that his position there was -compromised. -</p> - -<p> -“My uncle,” continued she, “told me so himself. Oh, there is no hurry just -yet. I have only been eight months in mourning; I shall wait till the -autumn. Only, in trade one must put one’s heart on one side, and consider -the necessities of the situation. A man is absolutely necessary here.” -</p> - -<p> -She discussed all this calmly, like a matter of business, and he gazed on -her regular and healthy beauty, on her pure complexion beneath her neatly -arranged black hair. Then he regretted not having, since her widowhood, -renewed the effort to become her lover. -</p> - -<p> -“It is always a very serious matter,” stammered he; “it requires -reflection.” -</p> - -<p> -No doubt, she was quite of that opinion. And she spoke of her age. -</p> - -<p> -“I am already old; I am five years older than you, Monsieur Octave—” -</p> - -<p> -Deeply agitated, yet thinking he understood, he interrupted her, and -seizing hold of her hands, he repeated: -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, madame! oh, madame!” -</p> - -<p> -But she rose from her seat and released herself. Then she turned down the -gas. -</p> - -<p> -“No, that’s enough for to-day. You have some very good ideas, and it is -natural I should think of you to put them into execution. Only there will -be a deal of worry; we must thoroughly study the project. I know that at -heart you are very serious. Think the matter over on your side, and I will -think it over on mine. That is why I have named it to you. We can talk -about it again later on.” -</p> - -<p> -And things remained thus for weeks. The establishment continued just the -same as usual. As Madame Hédouin always maintained her smiling serenity -when in Octave’s company, without an allusion to the slightest tender -feeling, he affected on his side a similar peace of mind, and he ended by -becoming like her, healthfully happy, placing his confidence in the logic -of things. She often repeated that sensible things always happened of -themselves. Therefore she was never in a hurry. The gossip which commenced -to circulate respecting her intimacy with the young man did not in the -least affect her. They waited. -</p> - -<p> -In the Rue de Choiseul, therefore, the entire house vowed that the -marriage was as good as accomplished. Octave had given up his room to -lodge in the Rue Neuve-Saint-Augustin, near “The Ladies’ Paradise.” He no -longer visited any one—neither the Campardons nor the Duveyriers, -who were quite shocked at the scandal of his amours. Monsieur Gourd -himself, whenever he saw him, pretended not to recognize him, so as to -avoid having to bow. Only Marie and Madame Juzuer, on the mornings when -they met him in the neighborhood, went and stood a moment in some doorway -to have a chat with him. Madame Juzeur, who passionately questioned him -respecting Madame Hédouin, tried to persuade him to call upon her, so as -to be able to talk the matter over nicely; and Marie, who was greatly -distressed, complaining of again being in the family way, and who told him -of Jules’ amazement and of her parents’ terrible anger. Then, when the -rumor of his marriage became more persistent, Octave was surprised to -receive a low bow from Monsieur Gourd. Campardon, without exactly making -friends again, gave him a cordial nod across the street, whilst Duveyrier, -calling one evening to buy some gloves, showed himself most amiable. The -entire house was beginning to pardon him. -</p> - -<p> -However, the uneasiness caused by the adulterous act was still there, -imperceptible to uneducated people, but most disagreeable to those of -refined morals. Auguste obstinately persisted in not taking his wife back, -and, so long as Berthe lived with her parents, the scandal would not be -effaced—there would ever linger a material vestige of it. -</p> - -<p> -It was Duveyrier especially who, as landlord, carried the burden of this -persistent and unmerited misfortune. For some time past Clarisse had been -torturing him to such a pitch that he would at times come home to his wife -to weep. But the scandal of the adultery had struck him to the heart; he -saw, said he, the passer-by look at his house from top to bottom—that -house which his father-in-law and he had striven to decorate with every -domestic virtue; and, as this sort of thing could not be allowed to last, -he talked of purifying the building for his personal honor. Therefore he -urged Auguste, in the name of public decency, to become reconciled with -his wife. Unfortunately, Auguste resisted, backed up in his rage by -Théophile and Valérie, who had definitely installed themselves at the -pay-desk, and who were delighted with the existing discord. Then, as -matters were going badly at Lyons, and the silk warehouse was in jeopardy -for want of capital, Duveyrier conceived a practical idea. The Josserands -were probably longing to get rid of their daughter; the thing to do was to -offer to take her back, but only on condition that they paid the dowry of -fifty thousand francs. Perhaps uncle Bachelard would yield to their -entreaties and give the money. At first, Auguste violently refused to be a -party to any such arrangement; even were the sum a hundred thousand -francs, he would not think it sufficient. Then, becoming very anxious as -his April payments drew near, he had given in to the counselor’s -arguments, as the latter pleaded the cause of morality and spoke merely of -a good action to be done. -</p> - -<p> -When they were agreed, Clotilde selected the Abbé Mauduit for negotiator. -It was a delicate matter; only a priest could interfere in it without -compromising himself. It so happened that the reverend man was deeply -grieved by the deplorable catastrophes which had befallen one of the most -interesting households of his parish; and he had already offered his -advice, his experience and his authority to put an end to a scandal at -which the enemies of religion might take delight. However, when Clotilde -spoke to him of the dowry, asking him to be the bearer of Auguste’s -conditions to the Josserands, he bowed his head, and maintained a painful -silence. -</p> - -<p> -“It is money due that my brother asks for,” repeated she. “It is no -bargain, understand. Moreover, my brother insists upon it.” -</p> - -<p> -“It is necessary, and I will go,” said the priest, at length. -</p> - -<p> -The Josserands had been expecting the proposal for days. Valérie must have -spoken of it, all the tenants were discussing the affair: were they so -hard up as to be forced to keep their daughter? would they be able to -obtain the fifty thousand francs to get rid of her? Since the question had -reached this point, Madame Josserand had been in a constant rage. What! -after having had such trouble to marry Berthe at first, she now had to -marry her a second time! Everything was upset, the dowry was again -demanded, all the money worries were going to commence afresh! Never -before had a mother had such a task to go through twice over. And all -owing to the fault of that silly fool, whose stupidity went so far as to -make her forget her duty. -</p> - -<p> -The house was becoming a hell upon earth; Berthe suffered a continual -torture, for even her sister Hortense, furious at no longer sleeping -alone, never uttered a sentence without introducing some insulting -allusion into it. She was even reproached with the food she ate. When one -had a husband somewhere, it was all the same very funny that one should go -and share one’s parents’ meals, which were already too sparing. Then the -young woman, in despair, would sob in corners, accusing herself of being a -coward, but unable to pick up sufficient courage to go down-stairs and -throw herself at Auguste’s feet, and say: -</p> - -<p> -“Here! beat me, I cannot be more unhappy than I am.” -</p> - -<p> -Monsieur Josserand alone showed some affection for his child. But that -child’s faults and tears were killing him; he was dying through the -cruelties of the family, with an unlimited holiday from business, spent -mostly in bed. Doctor Juillerat, who attended him, talked of a -decomposition of the blood: it was a dissolution of the entire system, -during which each organ was attacked, one after the other. -</p> - -<p> -“When you have made your father die of grief, perhaps you will be -satisfied!” cried the mother. -</p> - -<p> -And Berthe scarcely dared enter the invalid’s room. Directly the father -and daughter met, they wept together, and did each other a great deal of -harm. -</p> - -<p> -At length, Madame Josserand came to a grand decision: she invited uncle -Bachelard, resolved to humiliate herself once more. She would have given -the fifty thousand francs out of her own pocket, if she had possessed -them, so as not to have to keep that big married girl, whose presence -dishonored her Tuesday receptions. But she had learnt some shocking things -about the uncle, and, if he did not do as she wished, she intended, once -for all, to give him a bit of her mind. -</p> - -<p> -During dinner, Bachelard behaved in a most abominable manner. He had -arrived in an advanced state of intoxication; for, since he had left Fifi, -he had fallen into the lowest depths of vice. -</p> - -<p> -“Narcisse,” said Madame Josserand, “the situation is a grave one——” -</p> - -<p> -And, slowly and solemnly, she explained this situation, her daughter’s -regrettable misfortune, the husband’s revolting venality, the painful -resolution she had been obliged to come to of giving the fifty thousand -francs, so as to put a stop to the scandal which covered the family with -shame. Then she severely continued: -</p> - -<p> -“Remember what you promised, Narcisse. On the evening of the signing of -the marriage contract, you again slapped your chest and swore that Berthe -might rely on her uncle’s affections. Well! where is this affection? the -moment has arrived to display it. Monsieur Josserand, join me in showing -him his duty, if your weak state of health will allow you to do so.” -</p> - -<p> -In spite of his great repugnance, the father murmured, out of love for his -daughter: -</p> - -<p> -“It is true; you promised, Bachelard. Come, before I leave you forever, do -me the pleasure of behaving as you should.” -</p> - -<p> -But Berthe and Hortense, in the hope of working upon the uncle’s feelings, -had filled his glass once too often. He was in such a fuddled condition, -that one could not even take advantage of him. -</p> - -<p> -“Eh? what?” stuttered he, without having the least necessity for -exaggerating his intoxication. “Never promise—Don’t understand—Tell -me again, Eléonore.” -</p> - -<p> -The latter recommenced her story, made weeping Berthe embrace him, -besought him for the sake of her husband’s health, and proved to him that -in giving the fifty thousand francs, he would be fulfilling a sacred duty. -Then, as he began to doze off again, without appearing to be in the least -affected by the sight of the invalid or of the chamber of sickness, she -abruptly broke out into the most violent language. -</p> - -<p> -“Listen! Narcisse, this sort of thing has been lasting too long—you’re -a scoundrel! I know of all your beastly goings-on. You’ve just married -your mistress to Gueulin, and you’ve given them fifty thousand francs, the -very amount you promised us. Ah! it’s decent; little Gueulin plays a -pretty part in it all! And you, you’re worse still, you take the bread -from our mouth, you prostitute your fortune, yes! you prostitute it, by -robbing us of money which was ours for the sake of that harlot!” -</p> - -<p> -Never before had she relieved her feelings to such an extent. Hortense -busied herself with her father’s medicine, so as not to show her -embarrassment. Monsieur Josserand, who was made far worse by this scene, -tossed about on his pillow, and murmured in a trembling voice: -</p> - -<p> -“I beseech you, Eléonore, do be quiet; he will give nothing. If you wish -to say such things to him, take him away that I may not hear you.” -</p> - -<p> -Berthe, on her side, sobbed louder than ever, and joined her father in his -entreaties. -</p> - -<p> -“Enough, mamma, do as papa asks. Good heavens! how miserable I am to be -the cause of all these quarrels! I would sooner leave you all, and go and -die somewhere.” -</p> - -<p> -Then Madame Josserand deliberately put the question to the uncle. -</p> - -<p> -“Will you, yes or no, give the fifty thousand francs, so that your niece -may hold her head up?” -</p> - -<p> -Regularly scared, he tried to go into explanations. -</p> - -<p> -“Listen a moment. I found Gueulin and Fifi together. What could I do? I -was obliged to marry them. It wasn’t my fault.” -</p> - -<p> -“Will you, yes or no, give the dowry you promised?” repeated she -furiously. -</p> - -<p> -He wavered, his intoxication increased to such a pitch that he could -scarcely find words to utter: -</p> - -<p> -“Can’t, word of honor!—Completely ruined. Otherwise, at once—Candidly -you know——” -</p> - -<p> -She interrupted him with a terrible gesture, and declared: -</p> - -<p> -“Good, then I shall call a family council and have you declared incapable -of managing your affairs. When uncles become driveling, it’s time to send -them to an asylum.” -</p> - -<p> -At this, the uncle was seized with intense emotion. He glanced about him, -and found the room had a sinister aspect with its feeble light; he looked -at the dying man, who, held up by his daughters, was swallowing a spoonful -of some black liquid; and his heart overflowed, he sobbed as he accused -his sister of never having under stood him. Yet, he had already been made -unhappy enough by Gueulin’s treachery. They knew he was very sensitive, -and they did wrong to invite him to dinner, to make him sad afterward. In -short, in place of the fifty thousand francs, he offered all the blood in -his veins. -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand, who was quite worn out, had decided to leave him to -himself, when the servant announced Doctor Juillerat and the Abbé Mauduit. -They had met on the landing, and entered together. The doctor found -Monsieur Josserand much worse, he was still suffering from the shock -occasioned by the scene in which he had been forced to play a part. When, -on his side, the priest wished to take Madame Josserand into the -drawing-room, having, he said, a communication to make to her, the latter -guessed on what subject he had called, and answered majestically that she -was with her family and prepared to hear everything there; the doctor -himself would not be in the way, for a physician was also a confessor. -</p> - -<p> -“Madame,” then said the priest, with slightly embarrassed gentleness, “you -behold in the step I am taking an ardent desire to reconcile two families——” -</p> - -<p> -“My dear Abbé Mauduit, allow me to interrupt you,” said Madame Josserand. -“We are deeply moved by your efforts. But never, you understand me! never -will we traffic in our daughter’s honor. People who have already become -reconciled over this child’s back! Oh! I know all; they were at daggers -drawn, and now they are inseparable, reviling us from morning till night. -No; such a bargain would be a disgrace—-” -</p> - -<p> -“It seems to me, though, madame—” ventured the priest. -</p> - -<p> -But she drowned his voice, as she superbly continued: -</p> - -<p> -“See! my brother is here. You can question him. He was again saying to me -only a little while ago: ‘Here are the fifty thousand francs, Eléonore; -settle this miserable matter!’ Well! ask him what reply I made. Get up, -Narcisse. Tell the truth.” The uncle had already again fallen asleep in an -arm-chair, at the end of the room. He moved, and uttered a few -disconnected words. Then, as his sister insisted, he placed his hand on -his heart, and stammered: -</p> - -<p> -“When duty speaks, one must obey. The family comes before everything.” -</p> - -<p> -“You hear him?” cried Madame Josserand, with a triumphant air. “No money; -it’s disgraceful! Tell those people from us that we don’t die to avoid -having to pay. The dowry is here; we would have given it; but, now that -it’s exacted as the price of our daughter, the matter becomes too -disgusting. Let Auguste take Berthe back first, and then we will see later -on.” -</p> - -<p> -She had raised her voice, and the doctor, who was examining his patient, -was obliged to make her leave off. -</p> - -<p> -“Speak lower, madame!” said he; “your husband suffers.” -</p> - -<p> -Then the Abbé Mauduit, whose embarrassment had increased, went up to the -bedside, and found some kind words to say. And he afterward withdrew, -without again referring to the matter, hiding the confusion of having -failed beneath his amiable smile, with a curl of grief and disgust on his -lips. As the doctor went off in his turn, he roughly informed Madame -Josserand that there was no hope for the invalid: the greatest precautions -must be taken, for the least emotion might carry him off. She was -thunderstruck, and returned to the dining-room, where her two daughters -and their uncle had already withdrawn, to let Monsieur Josserand rest, as -he seemed disposed to go to sleep. -</p> - -<p> -“Berthe,” murmured she, “you have killed your father. The doctor has just -said so.” -</p> - -<p> -And they all three, seated round the table, gave way to their grief, -whilst Uncle Bachelard, also in tears, mixed himself a glass of grog. -</p> - -<p> -When Auguste learned the Josserands’ answer, his rage against his wife -knew no bounds, and he swore he would kick her away the day she came to -ask for forgiveness. Yet, in reality, he wanted her; there was a voidness -in his life; he seemed to be out of his element, amidst the new worries of -his abandonment, quite as grave as those of his married life. -</p> - -<p> -Besides all this, another more serious anxiety bothered him: “The Ladies’ -Paradise” was prospering, and already menaced his business, which -decreased daily. He certainly did not regret that miserable Octave, yet he -was just, and recognized that the fellow possessed very great abilities. -How swimmingly everything would have gone had they only got on better -together! He was seized with the most tender regrets; there were hours -when, sick of his loneliness, feeling life giving way beneath him, he felt -inclined to go up to the Josserands and ask them to give Berthe back to -him for nothing. -</p> - -<p> -Duveyrier, too, moreover, did not yield, and, more and more cut up by the -moral disfavor into which such an affair threw his building, he was -forever urging his brother-in-law to a reconciliation. -</p> - -<p> -Each day life became more and more cruel for Duveyrier at this mistress’, -where he encountered all the worries of his own home again, but this time -in the midst of a regular hell. The whole tribe of hawkers—the -mother, the big blackguard of a brother, the two little sisters, even the -invalid aunt—impudently robbed him, lived on him openly, to the -point of emptying his pockets during the nights he slept there. His -position was also becoming a serious one in another respect; he had got to -the end of his money; he trembled at the thought of being compromised on -his judicial bench; he could certainly not be removed, only, the young -barristers were beginning to look at him in a saucy kind of way, which -made it awkward for him to administer justice. And, when driven away by -the filth and the uproar, seized with disgust of himself, he flew from the -Rue d’Assas and sought refuge in the Rue de Choiseul, his wife’s malignant -coldness completed the crushing of him. Then he would lose his head; he -would look at the Seine on his way to the court, with thoughts of jumping -in some evening when a final suffering should impart to him the requisite -courage. -</p> - -<p> -Clotilde had noticed her husband’s emotion, and felt anxious and irritated -with that mistress of his who did not even make a man happy in his -misconduct. But, for her part, she was greatly annoyed by a most -deplorable adventure, the consequences of which quite revolutionized the -house. On going up-stairs one morning for a handkerchief, Clémence had -caught Hippolyte with Louise, and, since then, she had taken to slapping -him in the kitchen for the least thing, which of course greatly interfered -with the attendance. The worst was that madame could no longer close her -eyes to the illicit connection existing between her maid and her footman; -the other servants laughed, the scandal was reported amongst the -tradespeople; it was absolutely necessary to oblige them to get married if -she wished to retain them, and, as she continued to be very well satisfied -with Clémence, she thought of nothing but this marriage. -</p> - -<p> -To negotiate between lovers who were forever fighting with each other -seemed such a delicate affair that she decided on employing the Abbé -Mauduit, whose moralizing character seemed specially suited to the -occasion. Her servants, moreover, had been causing her a great deal of -trouble for some time past. When down in the country, she had noticed the -intimacy of her big, hobbledehoy Gustave with Julie; she had at one moment -thought of sending the latter about her business, though regretfully, for -she liked her cooking; then, after sound reflection, she had decided to -keep her, preferring that the youngster should have a mistress at home, a -clean girl who would never be any trouble. There is no knowing what a -youth may get hold of outside, when he begins too young. She was watching -them, therefore, without saying a word, and now the other two must needs -worry her with their affair. -</p> - -<p> -It so happened that, one morning, as Madame Duveyrier was preparing to -call on the priest, Clémence came, and announced that the Abbé Mauduit was -taking the extreme unction up to Monsieur Josserand. After meeting him on -the staircase, the maid had returned to the kitchen, exclaiming: -</p> - -<p> -“I said that he would come again this year!” -</p> - -<p> -And, alluding to the catastrophes which had befallen the house, she added: -</p> - -<p> -“It has brought ill-luck to every one.” -</p> - -<p> -This time the priest did not arrive too late, and that was an excellent -sign for the future. Madame Duveyrier hastened to Saint-Roch, where she -awaited the Abbé Mauduit’s return. He listened to her, and for a while -maintained a sad silence; then he was unable to refuse to enlighten the -maid and the footman on the immorality of their position. Moreover, the -other matter would have obliged him to return shortly to the Rue de -Choiseul, for poor Monsieur Josserand would certainly not last through the -night; and he mentioned that he saw in this circumstance a cruel but happy -opportunity for reconciling Auguste and Berthe. He would try and arrange -the two affairs simultaneously. It was high time that Heaven consented to -bless their efforts. -</p> - -<p> -“I have prayed, madame,” said the priest. “The Almighty will triumph.” -</p> - -<p> -And, indeed, that evening, at seven o’clock, Monsieur Josserand’s death -agony began. The entire family was there, excepting uncle Bachelard, who -had been sought for in vain in all the cafés, and Saturnin, who was still -confined at the Asile des Moulineaux. Léon, whose marriage was most -unfortunately postponed through his father’s illness, displayed a -dignified grief. Madame Josserand and Hortense showed some courage. Berthe -alone sobbed so loudly that, so as not to affect the invalid, she had gone -and stowed herself away in the kitchen, where Adèle, taking advantage of -the general confusion, was drinking some mulled wine. Monsieur Josserand -expired in the quietest fashion; it was his honesty which finished him. He -had passed a useless life, and he went off like a worthy man tired of the -wicked things of the world, heart-broken by the quiet indifference of the -only beings he had ever loved. At eight o’clock he stammered out -Saturnin’s name, turned his face to the wall, and expired. No one thought -him dead, for all had dreaded a terrible agony. They sat patiently for -some time, letting him, as they thought, sleep. When they found he was -already becoming cold, Madame Josserand, in the midst of the general -wailing, flew into a passion with Hortense, whom she had instructed to -fetch Auguste, counting on restoring Berthe to the latter’s arms amidst -the great grief of her husband’s last moments. -</p> - -<p> -“You think of nothing!” said she, wiping her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“But, mamma,” replied the girl, in tears, “no one thought papa would go -off so suddenly! You told me not to go for Auguste till nine o’clock, so -as to be sure of keeping him till the end.” -</p> - -<p> -The sorely afflicted family found some distraction in this quarrel. -</p> - -<p> -It was another matter gone wrong; they never succeeded in anything. -Fortunately, there was still the funeral to take advantage of to bring the -husband and wife together. -</p> - -<p> -The funeral was a pretty decent one, though it was not so grand as -Monsieur Vabre’s. Moreover, it did not give rise to nearly the same -excitement in the house and the neighborhood, for the deceased was not a -landlord; he was merely a quiet-going body, whose demise did not even -disturb Madame Juzeur’s slumbers. -</p> - -<p> -Madame Josserand and her daughters had to be supported to their coach. -Léon, assisted by uncle Bachelard, was most attentive, whilst Auguste -followed behind in an embarrassed way. He got into another coach with -Duveyrier and Théophile. Clotilde detained the Abbé Mauduit, who had not -officiated, but who had gone to the cemetery, wishing to give the family a -proof of his sympathy. The horses started on the homeward journey more -gayly, and she at once asked the priest to return to the house with them, -for she felt that the time was favorable. He consented. -</p> - -<p> -The three mourning coaches silently drew up in the Rue de Choiseul with -the relations. Théophile at once rejoined Valérie, who had remained behind -to superintend a general cleaning, the warehouse being closed. -</p> - -<p> -“You may pack up!” cried he, furiously. “They’re all at him. I bet he’ll -end by begging her pardon.” -</p> - -<p> -They all, indeed, felt a pressing necessity for putting an end to the -unpleasantness. Misfortune should at least be good for something. Auguste, -in the midst of them, understood very well what they wanted; and he was -alone, without strength to resist, and filled with shame. The relations -slowly walked in under the porch hung with black. No one spoke. On the -stairs, the silence continued—a silence full of deep thought—whilst -the crape skirts, soft and sad, ascended higher and higher. Auguste, -seized with a final feeling of revolt, had taken the lead, with the -intention of quickly shutting himself up in his own apartments; but, as he -opened, the door, Clotilde and the priest, who had followed close behind, -stopped him. Directly after them, Berthe, dressed in deep mourning, -appeared on the landing, accompanied by her mother and her sister. They -all three had red eyes; Madame Josserand, especially, was quite painful to -behold. -</p> - -<p> -“Come, my friend,” simply said the priest, overcome by tears. -</p> - -<p> -And that was sufficient. Auguste gave in at once, seeing that it was -better to make his peace at that honorable opportunity. His wife wept, and -he wept also, as he stammered: -</p> - -<p> -“Come in. We will try not to do it again.” -</p> - -<p> -Then the relations kissed all around. Clotilde congratulated her brother; -she had had full confidence in his heart. Madame Josserand showed a -broken-hearted satisfaction, like a widow who is no longer the least -affected by the most unhoped-for happiness. She associated her poor -husband with the general joy. -</p> - -<p> -“You are doing your duty, my dear son-in-law. He who is now in Heaven -thanks you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Come in,” repeated Auguste, quite upset. -</p> - -<p> -But Rachel, attracted by the noise, now appeared in the anteroom; and -Berthe hesitated a moment in presence of the speechless exasperation which -caused the maid to turn ghastly pale. Then she sternly entered, and -disappeared with her black mourning in the shadow of the apartment. -Auguste followed her, and the door closed behind them. -</p> - -<p> -A deep sigh of relief ascended the staircase, and filled the house with -joy. The ladies pressed the hands of the priest, whose prayers had been -granted. Just as Clotilde was taking him off to settle the other matter, -Duveyrier, who had lagged behind with Léon and Bachelard, arrived, walking -painfully. The happy result had all to be explained to him; but he, who -had been desiring it for months past, scarcely seemed to understand, a -strange expression overspreading his face, and his mind a prey to a fixed -idea, the torture of which quite absorbed him. Whilst the Josserands -regained their apartments, he returned to his own, behind his wife and the -priest. And they had just reached the ante-room, when some stifled cries -caused them to start. -</p> - -<p> -“Do not be uneasy, madame. It is the little lady up-stairs in labor,” -Hippolyte complacently explained. “I saw Dr. Juillerat run up just now.” -</p> - -<p> -Then, when he was alone, he added philosophically: -</p> - -<p> -“One goes, another comes.” -</p> - -<p> -Clotilde made the Abbé Mauduit comfortable in the drawingroom, saying that -she would first of all send him Clémence; and, to help him to while away -the time, she gave him the “Revue des Deux Mondes,” which contained some -really charming verses. She wished to prepare her maid for the interview. -But, on entering her dressing-room, she found her husband seated on a -chair. -</p> - -<p> -Ever since the morning, Duveyrier had been in a state of agony. For the -third time he had caught Clarisse with Théodore; and, as he complained, -the whole family of hawkers, the mother, the brother, the sisters, had -fallen upon him, and driven him down-stairs with kicks and blows; whilst -Clarisse had called him a poverty-stricken wretch, and furiously -threatened him with the police if he ever dared to show himself there -again. It was all over; down below the doorkeeper had told him that for a -week past a very rich old fellow had been anxious to provide for madame. -Then, driven away, and no longer having a warm nook to nestle in, -Duveyrier, after wandering about the streets, had entered an -out-of-the-way shop and purchased a pocket revolver. Life was becoming too -sad; he could at least put an end to it, as soon as he had found a -suitable place for doing so. This selection of a quiet corner was -occupying his mind, as he mechanically returned to the Rue de Choiseul to -assist at Monsieur Josserand’s funeral. Then, when following the corpse, -he had had a sudden idea of killing himself at the cemetery; he would go -to the furthest end and hide behind a tombstone. This flattered his taste -for the romantic, the necessity for a tender ideal, which was wrecking his -life, beneath his rigid middle-class attitude. But, as the coffin was -being lowered into the grave, he began to tremble, seized with an earthly -chill. The spot would decidedly not do; he would have to seek elsewhere. -And, having returned in a worse state than ever, entirely a prey to this -one idea, he sat thinking on a chair in the dressing-room, trying to -decide which was the most suitable place in the house—perhaps the -bed-room, beside the bed, or simply just where he was, without moving. -</p> - -<p> -“Will you have the kindness to leave me to myself?” said Clotilde to him. -</p> - -<p> -He already had his hand on the revolver in his pocket. -</p> - -<p> -“Why?” asked he, with an effort. -</p> - -<p> -“Because I wish to be alone.” -</p> - -<p> -He thought that she wanted to change her dress, and that she would not -even let him see her bare arms, so repugnant he felt was he to her. For an -instant he looked at her with his dim eyes, and beheld her so tall, so -beautiful, with a complexion clear as marble, her hair gathered up in -deep, golden tresses. Ah! if she had only consented, how everything might -have been arranged! He rose stumblingly from his chair, and, opening his -arms, tried to take hold of her. -</p> - -<p> -“What, now?” murmured she, greatly surprised. “What’s the matter with you? -Not here, surely. Have you the other one no longer, then? It is going to -begin again, that abomination?” -</p> - -<p> -And she exhibited such utter disgust, that he drew back. Without a word, -he left her, stopping in the ante-room as he hesitated for a moment; then, -as there was a door facing him, the door of the closet, he pushed it open; -and, without the slightest hurry, he sat down. It was a quiet spot, no one -would come and disturb him there. He placed the barrel of the little -revolver in his mouth, and pulled the trigger. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, Clotilde, who had been struck since the morning by his strange -manner, had listened to ascertain if he were obliging her by returning to -Clarisse. On learning where he had gone, by a creak peculiar to that door, -she no longer bothered herself about him, and was at length in the act of -ringing for Clémence, when the dull report of a fire-arm filled her with -surprise. Whatever was it? it was just, like the noise a saloon rifle -would make. She hastened to the ante-room, not daring at first to question -him; then, as a strange sound issued from where he was, she called him, -and, on receiving no answer, opened the door. The bolt had not even been -fastened. Duveyrier, stunned by fright more than by the injury he had -received, remained squatting, in a most lugubrious posture, his eyes wide -open, and his face streaming with blood. He had missed his object. After -grazing his jaw, the bullet had passed out again through the left cheek. -And he no longer had the courage to fire a second time. -</p> - -<p> -“What! that is what you come to do here?” cried Clotilde quite beside -herself. “Just go and kill yourself outside!” -</p> - -<p> -She was most indignant. Instead of softening her, this spectacle threw her -into a supreme exasperation. She bullied him, and raised him up without -the least precaution, wishing to carry him away so that no one should see -him in such a place. In that closet! and to miss killing himself too! It -was too much. -</p> - -<p> -Then, whilst she supported him to lead him to the bed-room, Duveyrier, who -had his throat filled with blood, and whose teeth were dropping out, -stuttered between two rattles: -</p> - -<p> -“You never loved me!” -</p> - -<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> -<img src="images/0407.jpg" alt="0407 " width="100%" /> -</div> - -<p> -And he burst into sobs, he bewailed the death of poetry, that little blue -flower which it had been denied him to pluck. When Clotilde had put him to -bed, she at length became softened, seized with a nervous emotion in the -midst of her anger. The worst of it was that Clémence and Hippolyte were -coming in answer to the bell. She at first talked to them of an accident; -their master had fallen on his chin: then she was obliged to abandon this -fable, for, on going to wipe up the blood, the footman had found the -revolver. The wounded man was still losing a great deal of blood, when the -maid remembered that Dr. Juillerat was up-stairs attending to Madame -Pichon, and she hastened to him, meeting him on the staircase, on his way -home, after a most successful delivery. The doctor immediately reassured -Clotilde; perhaps the jaw would be slightly out of its place, but her -husband’s life was not in the least danger. He was proceeding to dress the -wound, in the midst of basins of water and red stained rags, when the Abbé -Mauduit, uneasy at all this commotion, ventured to enter the room. -</p> - -<p> -“Whatever has happened?” asked he. -</p> - -<p> -This question completed upsetting Madame Duveyrier. She burst into tears -at the first words of explanation. The priest, fully aware of the hidden -miseries of his flock, had moreover quite understood matters. Already, -whilst waiting in the drawing-room, he had been taken with a feeling of -uneasiness, and almost regretted the success which had attended his -efforts, that wretched young woman whom he had once more united to her -husband without her showing the slightest remorse. He was filled with a -terrible doubt, perhaps God was not with him. And his anguish still -further increased as he beheld the counselor’s fractured jaw. He went up -to him, bent upon energetically condemning suicide. But the doctor, who -was very busy, thrust him aside. -</p> - -<p> -“After me, my dear Abbé Mauduit. By-and-by. You can see very well that he -has fainted.” -</p> - -<p> -And indeed, directly the doctor touched him, Duveyrier had lost -consciousness. Then Clotilde, to get rid of the servants who were no -longer needed, and whose staring eyes embarrassed her very much, murmured, -as she wiped her eyes: -</p> - -<p> -“Go into the drawing-room. Abbé Mauduit has something to say to you.” -</p> - -<p> -The priest was obliged to take them there. It was another unpleasant piece -of business. Hippolyte and Clémence followed him in profound surprise. -When they were alone together, he began preaching them a rather confused -sermon: Heaven rewarded good behavior, whereas a single sin led one to -hell; moreover, it was time to put a stop to scandal and to think of one’s -salvation. Whilst he spoke thus, their surprise turned to bewilderment; -with their hands hanging down beside them, she with her slender limbs and -tiny mouth, he with his flat face and his big bones like a gendarme, they -exchanged anxious glances! Had madame found some of her napkins up-stairs -in a trunk? or was it because of the bottle of wine they took up with them -every evening? -</p> - -<p> -“My children,” the priest ended by saying, “you set a bad example. The -greatest of crimes is to pervert one’s neighbor, and to bring the house -where one lives into disrepute. Yes, you live in a disorderly way, whieh, -unfortunately, is no longer a secret to any one, for you have been -fighting together for a week past.” -</p> - -<p> -He blushed; a modest hesitation caused him to choose his words. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile the two servants had sighed with relief. They smiled now and -strutted about in quite a happy manner. It was only that! really, there -was no occasion to be so frightened! -</p> - -<p> -“But it’s all over, sir,” declared Clémence, glancing at Hippolyte in the -fondest manner. “We have made it up. Yes, he explained everything to me.” -</p> - -<p> -The priest in his turn exhibited an astonishment full of sadness. -</p> - -<p> -“You do not understand me, my children. You cannot continue to live -together; you sin against God and man. You must get married.” -</p> - -<p> -At this, their amazement returned. Get married! whatever for? -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t want to,” said Clémence. “I’ve quite another idea.” -</p> - -<p> -Then the Abbé Mauduit tried to convince Hippolyte. -</p> - -<p> -“Come, my fine fellow, you who are a man, use your influence with her, -talk to her of her honor. It will change nothing in your mode of living. -Be married.” -</p> - -<p> -The footman grinned in a jocular and embarrassed manner. At length he -declared, as he looked down at the toes of his boots: -</p> - -<p> -“I daresay, I don’t say the contrary; but I’m already married.” -</p> - -<p> -This answer put a stop to all the priest’s moral preaching. Without adding -a word, he folded up his arguments, and put religion, now become useless, -back into his pocket, deeply regretting ever having risked it in such a -disgraceful matter. Clotilde, who rejoined him at this moment, had heard -everything; and she gave vent to her indignation in a furious gesture. At -her order, the footman and the maid left the room, one behind the other, -looking very serious, but in reality feeling highly amused. After a short -pause, Abbé Mauduit complained bitterly: why expose him in that manner? -why stir up things it was far better to let rest? The condition of affairs -had now become most disgraceful. But Clotilde repeated her gesture: so -much the worse! she had far greater worries. Moreover, she would certainly -not send the servants away, for fear the whole neighborhood learnt the -story of the attempted suicide that very evening. She would decide what to -do later on. -</p> - -<p> -“You will not forget, will you? the most complete repose,” urged the -doctor, coming from the bed-room. “He will get over it perfectly, but all -fatigue must be avoided. Take courage, madame.” -</p> - -<p> -And, turning toward the priest, he added: -</p> - -<p> -“You can preach him a sermon later on, my dear friend. I do not give him -up to you yet. If you are returning to Saint-Roch, I will accompany you; -we can walk together.” -</p> - -<p> -Then they left the house, and slowly followed the Rue -Neuve-Saint-Augustin. As they raised their heads, on arriving at the end -of the street, they beheld Madame Hédouin smiling at them, at the door of -“The Ladies’ Paradise.” Standing behind her was Octave, also laughing. -That very morning they had settled on their marriage, after a serious -conversation. They would wait till the autumn. And they were both full of -joy at having at length arranged the matter. -</p> - -<p> -“Good day, my dear Abbé Mauduit!” said Madame Hédouin, gayly. “And you, -doctor, always paying visits?” -</p> - -<p> -And, as the latter congratulated her on her good looks, she added: -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! if there were only me, you might give up business at once.” They -stood conversing a moment. The doctor having mentioned Marie’s -confinement, Octave seemed delighted to hear of his former neighbor’s -happy delivery. But, when he learnt that it was a third daughter, he -exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -“Can’t her husband manage a boy, then? She thought she might still get -Monsieur and Madame Vuillaume to put up with a boy; but they’ll never -stomach another girl.” -</p> - -<p> -“I should think not,” said the doctor. “They have both taken to their bed, -the news of their daughter’s pregnancy upset them so much. And they sent -for a notary, so that their son-in-law should not even inherit their -furniture.” -</p> - -<p> -There was a little chaff. The priest alone remained silent, with his eyes -cast on the ground. Madame Hédouin asked him if he was unwell. Yes, he -felt very tired, he was going to take a little rest. And, after a cordial -exchange of good wishes, he went down the Rue Saint-Roch, still -accompanied by the doctor. On arriving before the church, the latter -abruptly said: -</p> - -<p> -“A bad customer, eh?” -</p> - -<p> -“Who is?” asked the priest in surprise. -</p> - -<p> -“That lady who sells linen. She does not care a pin for either of us. No -need for religion, nor for medicine. All the same, when one is always so -well, it is no longer interesting.” -</p> - -<p> -And he went on his way, whilst the priest entered the church. Abbé Mauduit -intended to go up to his room. But a great agitation, a violent necessity, -had forced him to enter the church and kept him there. It seemed to him -that God was calling him, with a confused and far-off voice, the orders -proceeding from which he was unable to catch. He slowly crossed the -church, and was trying to read within himself, to quiet his alarms, when, -suddenly, as he passed behind the choir, a superhuman spectacle shook his -entire frame. -</p> - -<p> -It was beyond the marble chapel of the Virgin, as white as a lily, beyond -the gold and silver plate of the chapel of the Adoration, with its seven -golden lamps, its golden candelabra, and its golden altar shining in the -tawny shadow of the aureate stained windows; it was in the depths of this -mysterious night, past this tabernacle background, a tragical apparition, -a simple yet harrowing drama: Christ nailed to the cross, between the -Virgin Mary and Mary Magdalen, weeping at his feet; and the white statues, -which an invisible light coming from above caused to stand out from -against the bare wall, seemed to advance and increase in size, making the -bleeding humanity of this death, and these tears, the divine symbol of -eternal woe. -</p> - -<p> -The priest, thoroughly distracted, fell on his knees. He had whitened that -plaster, arranged that mode of lighting, prepared that phenomenon; and, -now that the boarding was removed, the architect and the workmen gone, he -was the first to be thunderstruck at the sight. From the terrible severity -of the Calvary came a breath which overpowered him. He fancied the -Almighty passing over him; he bent beneath this breath, filled with -misgivings, tortured by the thought that he was perhaps a bad priest. -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2><a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> -CHAPTER XVIII. -</h2> - -<p class="pfirst"> -<span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>n December, the -eighth month of her morning, Madame Josserand for the first time accepted -an invitation to dine out. It was merely at the Duveyriers’, almost a -family gathering, with which Clotilde opened her Saturday receptions of -the new winter. The day before, Adèle had been told that she would have to -help Julie with the washing-up. The ladies were in the habit of thus -lending their servants to each other on the days when they gave parties. -</p> - -<p> -“And above all, try and put a little more go into yourself,” said Madame -Josserand to her maid-of-all-work. “I don’t know what you’ve got in your -body now, you’re as limp as rags. Yet you’re fat and plump.” -</p> - -<p> -Adèle was simply nine months gone in the family way. For a long time she -had thought she was merely growing stouter, which greatly surprised her -however; and she would get into a perfect rage, with her ever hungry empty -stomach, on the days when madame triumphantly showed her to her guests; -ah, well! those who accused her of weighing her servant’s bread might come -and look at that great glutton, it was not likely she got so fat by merely -licking the walls! When, in her stupidity, Adèle at length became aware of -her misfortune, she restrained herself twenty times from telling the truth -to her mistress, who was really taking advantage of her condition to make -the neighborhood think that she was at length feeding her. -</p> - -<p> -But, from this moment, terror stultified her entirely. Her village ideas -once more took possession of her obtuse skull. She thought herself damned, -she fancied that the gendarmes would come and take her, if she admitted -her pregnancy. Then all her low cunning was made use of to hide it. She -concealed the feelings of sickness, twice she thought she would drop down -dead before her kitchen fire, whilst stirring some sauces. The pain that -she had endured for the two last months with the obstinacy of an heroic -silence was indeed frightful. -</p> - -<p> -Adèle went up to bed that night about eleven o’clock. The thought of -to-morrow evening terrified her; more drudgery, more bullying by Julie! -and she could scarcely move about. -</p> - -<p> -During the night she was seized with labor pains, and a desire came over -her to move about, so as to walk them off. She therefore lighted the -candle and began to wander round the room, her tongue dried up, tormented -with a burning thirst, and her cheeks on fire. Hours passed in this cruel -wandering, without her daring to put on her shoes, for fear of making a -noise, whilst she was only protected against the cold by an old shawl -thrown across her shoulders. Two o’clock struck, then three o’clock. -</p> - -<p> -Not a soul stirred in the adjoining rooms, every one was snoring; she -could hear Julie’s sonorous hum, whilst Lisa made a kind of hissing noise -like the shrill notes of a fife. Four o’clock had just struck, when, -seized with a violent pain, she felt that the end was approaching, and -could not restrain uttering a loud cry. -</p> - -<p> -At this the occupants of the other rooms began to rouse up. Voices thick -with sleep were heard saying: “Well! what? who’s being murdered?—Some -one’s being taken by force!—Don’t dream out loud like that!” -Dreadfully frightened, she drew the bedclothes over the new-born child, -which was uttering plaintive cries like a little kitten. But she soon -heard Julie snoring again, after turning over; whilst Lisa, once more -asleep, no longer uttered a sound. Then she experienced an immense relief, -an infinite comfort of calm and repose, and lay as one dead. -</p> - -<p> -She must have dozed thus for the best part of an hour. When six o’clock -struck, the consciousness of her position awoke her again. Time was -flying, she rose up painfully, and did whatever things came into her head, -without deciding on them beforehand. A frosty moon shone full into the -room. After dressing herself, she wrapped the infant up in some old rags, -and then folded a couple of newspapers around it. It uttered no cry now, -yet its little heart was beating. -</p> - -<p> -Not one of the servants was about as yet, and, after getting slumbering -Monsieur Gourd to unfasten the door from his room, she was able to go out -and lay her bundle in the Passage Choiseul, the gates of which had just -been opened, and then quietly returned up-stairs. She met no one. For once -in her lifetime, luck was on her side! -</p> - -<p> -She immediately set about tidying her room, after which, utterly worn out, -and as white as wax, she again lay down. It was thus that Madame Josserand -found her, when she had made up her mind to go up-stairs toward nine -o’clock, greatly surprised at not seeing Adèle come down. The servant -having complained of a violent attack of diarrhoea which had kept her -awake all night, madame exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -“Of course! you must have eaten too much again! You think of nothing else -but stuffing yourself.” -</p> - -<p> -The girl’s paleness, however, made her uneasy, and she talked of sending -for the doctor; but she was glad to save the three francs, when Adèle -vowed that she merely needed rest. Since her husband’s death, Madame -Josserand had been living with her daughter Hortense, on an allowance -made her by the brothers Bernheim, but which did not prevent her from -bitterly alluding to them as persons who lived on the brains of others; -and she spent less than ever on food, so as not to descend to a lower -level of society by quitting her apartments and giving up her Tuesday -receptions. -</p> - -<p> -“That’s right; sleep,” said she. “There is some cold beef left which will -do for this morning, and to-night we dine out. If you cannot come down to -help Julie, she will have to do without you.” -</p> - -<p> -The dinner that evening at the Duveyriers’ was a very cordial one. All the -family was there: the two Vabres and their wives, Madame Josserand, -Hortense, Léon, and even uncle Bachelard, who behaved well. Moreover, they -had invited Trublot to fill a vacant place, and Madame Dambreville, so as -not to separate her from Léon. The latter, after his marriage with the -niece, had once again fallen into the arms of the aunt, who was still -necessary to him. They were seen to arrive together in all the -drawing-rooms, and they would apologize for the young wife, whom a cold or -a feeling of idleness, said they, kept at home. That evening the whole -table complained of scarce knowing her: they loved her so much, she was so -beautiful! Then they talked of the chorus which Clotilde was to give at -the end of the evening; it was the “Blessing of the Daggers” again, but -this time with five tenors, something complete and magisterial. For two -months past, Duveyrier himself, who had become quite charming, had been -looking up the friends of the house, and saying to every one he met: “You -are quite a stranger, come and see us; my wife is going to give her -choruses again.” Therefore, half through the dinner, they talked of -nothing but music. The happiest good-nature and the most free-hearted -gayety prevailed throughout. -</p> - -<p> -Then, after the coffee, and whilst the ladies sat round the drawing-room -fire, the gentlemen formed a group in the parlor and began to exchange -some grave ideas. The other guests were now arriving. And among the -earliest were Campardon, Abbé Mauduit, and Doctor Juillerat, without -including the diners, with the exception of Trublot, who had disappeared -on leaving the table. They almost immediately commenced talking politics. -The debates in the Chamber deeply interested the gentlemen, and they had -not yet given over discussing the success of the opposition candidates for -Paris, all of whom had been returned at the May elections. This triumph of -the dissatisfied portion of the middle classes made them feel anxious at -heart, in spite of their apparent delight. -</p> - -<p> -“Dear me!” declared Léon, “Monsieur Thiers is certainly a most talented -man. But he puts so much acrimony into his speeches on the Mexican -expedition that he quite spoils their effect.” -</p> - -<p> -He had just been named to a higher appointment, through Madame -Dambreville’s influence, and had at once joined the government party. The -only thing that remained in him of the famished demagogue, was an -unbearable intolerance of all doctrines. -</p> - -<p> -“Not long ago you were accusing the government of every sin,” said the -doctor, smiling. “I hope you at least voted for Monsieur Thiers.” -</p> - -<p> -The young man avoided answering. Théophile, whose stomach was no longer -able to digest his food, and who was worried with fresh doubts as to his -wife’s constancy, exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -“I voted for him. When men refuse to live as brothers, so much the worse -for them!” -</p> - -<p> -“And so much the worse for you, as well, eh?” remarked Duveyrier, who, -speaking but little, uttered some very profound observations. -</p> - -<p> -Théophile, greatly scared, looked at him. Auguste no longer dared admit -that he had also voted for Monsieur Thiers. Then every one was very much -surprised to hear uncle Bachelard utter a legitimist profession of faith: -he thought it the most genteel. Campardon seconded him warmly; he had -abstained from voting himself, because the official candidate, Monsieur -Dewinck, did not offer sufficient guarantees as regards religion; and he -furiously declaimed against Renan’s “Life of Jesus,” which had recently -made its appearance. -</p> - -<p> -“It is not the book that should be burnt; it is the author,” repeated he. -</p> - -<p> -“You are, perhaps, too radical, my friend,” interrupted the priest, in a -conciliatory tone. “But, indeed, the symptoms are becoming terrible. There -is some talk of driving away the pope, the revolution has invaded -parliament. We are walking on the edge of a precipice.” -</p> - -<p> -“So much the better!” said Doctor Juillerat, simply. -</p> - -<p> -Then the others all protested. He renewed his attacks against the middle -classes, prophesying that there would be a clean sweep the day when the -masses wished to enjoy power in their turn; and the others loudly -interrupted him, exclaiming that the middle classes represented the -virtue, the industry, and the thrift of the nation. Duveyrier was at -length able to make himself heard. He owned it before all: he had voted -for Monsieur Dewinck, not that Monsieur Dewinck exactly represented his -opinions, but because he was the symbol of order. Yes, the saturnalia of -the Reign of Terror might one day return. Monsieur Rouher, that remarkable -statesman who had just succeeded Monsieur Billault, had formally -prophesied it in the Chamber. He concluded with these striking words: -</p> - -<p> -“The triumph of the opposition is the preliminary subsidence of the -structure. Take care that it does not crush you in falling!” -</p> - -<p> -The other gentlemen held their peace, with the unavowed fear of having -allowed themselves to be carried away even to compromising their personal -safety. They beheld workmen begrimed with powder and blood, entering their -homes, violating their maidservants and drinking their wine. No doubt, the -Emperor deserved a lesson; only, they were beginning to regret having -given him so severe a one. -</p> - -<p> -“Be easy!” concluded the doctor, scoffingly. “We will manage to save you -from the bullets.” -</p> - -<p> -But he was going too far, they set him down as an original. It was, -moreover, thanks to this reputation for originality, that he did not lose -his connection. He continued, by resuming with Abbé Mauduit their eternal -quarrel respecting the approaching downfall of the Church. Léon now sided -with the priest: he talked of Providence, and, on Sundays, accompanied -Madame Dambreville to nine o’clock mass. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, the guests continued to arrive, the drawing-room was becoming -quite filled with ladies. Valérie and Berthe were exchanging little -secrets, like two good friends. The other Madame Campardon, whom the -architect had brought no doubt in place of poor Rose, who was already in -bed up-stairs and reading Dickens, was giving Madame Josserand an -economical recipe for washing clothes without soap; whilst Hortense, -seated all by herself and expecting Verdier, did not take her eyes off the -door. But suddenly Clotilde, while conversing with Madame Dambreville, -rose up and held out her hands. Her friend, Madame Octave Mouret, had just -entered the room. The marriage had taken place early in November, at the -end of her mourning. -</p> - -<p> -“And your husband?” asked the hostess. “He is not going to disappoint me, -I hope?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, no,” answered Caroline, with a smile. “He will be here directly; -something detained him at the last moment.” -</p> - -<p> -There was some whispering, glances full of curiosity were directed toward -her, so calm and so lovely, ever the same, with the pleasant assurance of -a woman who succeeds in everything she undertakes. Madame Josserand -pressed her hand, as though she were delighted to see her again. Berthe -and Valérie left off talking and examined her at their ease, studying her -costume, a straw-color dress covered with lace. But, in the midst of this -quiet forgetfulness of the past, Auguste, whom the political discussion -had left quite cool, was giving signs of indignant amazement as he stood -near the parlor door. What! his sister was going to receive the family of -his wife’s former lover! And, in his marital rancor, there was a touch of -the jealous anger of the tradesman ruined by a triumphant competition; for -“The Ladies’ Paradise,” by extending its business and creating a special -department for silk, had so drained his resources that he had been obliged -to take a partner. He drew near, and, whilst every one was making much of -Madame Mouret, he whispered to Clotilde: -</p> - -<p> -“You know, I will never put up with it.” -</p> - -<p> -“Put up with what?” asked she, greatly surprised. -</p> - -<p> -“I do not mind the wife so much, she has not done me any harm. But if the -husband comes, I shall take hold of Berthe by the arm, and leave the room -in the presence of everybody.” -</p> - -<p> -She looked at him, and then shrugged her shoulders. Caroline was her -oldest friend, she was certainly not going to give up seeing her, just to -satisfy his caprices. As though any one even recollected the matter. He -would do far better not to rake up things forgotten by everybody but -himself. And as, deeply affected, he looked to Berthe for support, -expecting that she would get up and follow him at once, she calmed him -with a frown; was he mad? did he wish to make himself more ridiculous than -he had ever been before? -</p> - -<p> -“But it is in order that I may not appear ridiculous!” replied he, in -despair. -</p> - -<p> -Then Madame Josserand inclined toward him, and, said in a severe tone of -voice: -</p> - -<p> -“It is becoming quite indecent; every one is looking at you. Do behave -yourself for once in a way.” -</p> - -<p> -He held his tongue, but without submitting. From this moment a certain -uneasiness existed among the ladies. The only one who preserved her -smiling tranquillity was Madame Mouret, now sitting beside Clotilde and -opposite Berthe. They watched Auguste, who had retired to the window -recess where his marriage had been decided, not so very long before. His -anger was bringing on a headache, and he now and again pressed his -forehead against the icy-cold panes. -</p> - -<p> -Octave did not arrive till very late. As he reached the landing, he met -Madame Juzeur, who had just come down, wrapped in a shawl. She complained -of her chest, and had got up on purpose not to disappoint the Duveyriers. -Her languid state did not prevent her falling into the young man’s arms, -as she congratulated him on his marriage. -</p> - -<p> -“How delighted I am with such a splendid result, my friend! Really! I was -quite in despair about you, I never thought you would have succeeded. Tell -me, you rascal, how did you manage to get over her?” -</p> - -<p> -Octave smiled and kissed her fingers. But some one who was bounding -up-stairs with the agility of a goat, disturbed them; and, greatly -surprised, they fancied they recognized Saturnin. It was indeed Saturnin, -who a week before had left the Asile des Moulineaux, where for a second -time Doctor Chassagne declined to detain him any longer, still considering -him not sufficiently mad. No doubt he was going to spend the evening with -Marie Pichon, just as in former days, when his parents had company. And -those bygone times were suddenly evoked. Octave could hear an expiring -voice coming from above, singing the ballad with which Marie whiled away -her vacant hours; he beheld her once more eternally alone, beside the crib -in which Lilitte slumbered, and awaiting Jules’ return with all the -complacency of a gentle and useless woman. -</p> - -<p> -“I wish you every happiness with your wife,” repeated Madame Juzeur, -tenderly squeezing Octave’s hands. -</p> - -<p> -In order not to enter the drawing-room with her, he was purposely -occupying some time in removing his overcoat, when Trublot, in his dress -clothes, bareheaded, and looking quite upset, came from the passage -leading to the kitchen. -</p> - -<p> -“You know she’s not at all well!” murmured he, whilst Hippolyte announced -Madame Juzeur. -</p> - -<p> -“Who isn’t?” asked Octave. -</p> - -<p> -“Why Adèle, the servant up-stairs.” -</p> - -<p> -Hearing there was something the matter with her, he had gone up quite -paternally, on leaving the dinner-table. It must have been a very severe -attack of cholerine; a good glass of mulled wine was what she ought to -have, and she had not even a lump of sugar. Then, as he noticed that his -friend smiled in an indifferent sort of way, he added: -</p> - -<p> -“Hallo! I forgot you’re married, you joker! This sort of thing no longer -interests you. I never thought of that when I found you with madame. -Anything you like except that!” -</p> - -<p> -They entered together. The ladies were just then speaking of their -servants, and were taking such interest in the conversation, that they did -not notice them at first. All were complacently approving Madame -Duveyrier, who was trying to explain, in an embarrassed way, why she -continued to keep Clémence and Hippolyte: he was rough, but she dressed -her so well that one could not help shutting one’s eyes to other matters. -Neither Valérie nor Berthe could succeed in securing a decent girl; they -had given it up in despair, after trying every registry office, the -good-for-nothing servants from which had done no more than pass through -their kitchens. Madame Josserand violently abused Adèle, of whom she -related some fresh abominable and stupid doings of extraordinary -character; and yet she did not send her about her business. As for the -other Madame Campardon, she was quite enthusiastic in her praises of Lisa: -a pearl, not a thing to reproach her with; in short, one of those -deserving domestics to whom one gives prizes. -</p> - -<p> -“She is quite one of the family now,” said she. “Our little Angèle is -attending some lectures at the Hôtel de Ville, and Lisa accompanies her. -Oh! they might remain out together for days; we should not be in the least -anxious.” -</p> - -<p> -It was at this moment that the ladies caught sight of Octave. He was -advancing to wish Clotilde good-evening. Berthe looked at him; then, -without the least affectation, she resumed her conversation with Valérie, -who had exchanged with him the affectionate glance of disinterested -friendship. The others—Madame Josserand, Madame Dambreville—without -throwing themselves at him, surveyed him with sympathetic interest. -</p> - -<p> -“So here you are at last!” said Clotilde, who was most amiable. “I was -beginning to tremble for the chorus.” -</p> - -<p> -And, as Madame Mouret gently scolded her husband for being so late, he -made some excuses. -</p> - -<p> -“But, my dear, I was unable to come sooner. I am most sorry, madame. -However, I am now entirely at your disposal.” Meanwhile, the ladies were -anxiously watching the window recess into which Auguste had retired. They -received a momentary fright when they beheld him turn round at the sound -of Octave’s voice. His headache was no doubt worse; he had a restless look -about the eyes, which seemed full of the darkness of the street. He at -length appeared to make up his mind, and, returning to his former position -beside his sister’s chair, he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Send them away, or else we will leave.” -</p> - -<p> -Clotilde again shrugged her shoulders. Then Auguste seemed disposed to -give her time to consider: he would wait a few minutes longer, more -especially as Trublot had taken Octave into the parlor. The other ladies -were still uneasy, for they had heard the husband whisper in his wife’s -ear: -</p> - -<p> -“If he comes back here, you must get up and follow me. Otherwise, you may -return to your mother’s.” -</p> - -<p> -In the parlor, the gentlemen greeted Octave quite as cordially. If Léon -made a point of showing a little coolness, Uncle Bachelard, and even -Théophile, seemed to declare, as they held out their hands to Octave, that -the family forgot everything. He congratulated Campardon, who, decorated -two days previously, now wore a broad red ribbon; and the beaming -architect scolded him for never calling now and then to pass an hour with -his wife: though one got married, it was scarcely nice to forget friends -of fifteen years’ standing. But the young man felt quite surprised and -anxious as he stood before Duveyrier. He had not seen him since his -recovery. He looked uneasily at his jaw, all out of place, dropping too -much on the left side, and which now gave a horrid squinting expression to -his countenance. Then, when the counselor spoke, he had another surprise: -his voice had lowered two tones; it had become quite sepulchral. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t you think him much better thus?” said Trublot to Octave, as they -returned to the drawing-room door. “It positively gives him a certain -majestic air. I saw him presiding at the assizes, the day before yesterday—Listen! -they are talking of it.” -</p> - -<p> -And indeed the gentlemen had abandoned politics to take up morality. They -were listening to Duveyrier as he gave some details of an affair in which -his attitude had been particularly noticed. He was even about to be named -a president and an officer of the Legion of Honor. It was respecting an -infanticide already a year old. The unnatural mother, a regular savage, as -he said, happened to be the boot-stitcher, his former tenant, that tall, -pale and friendless girl, whose pregnant condition had roused Monsieur -Gourd’s indignation so much. And besides that, she was altogether stupid! -for, without reflecting that her appearance would betray her, she had gone -and cut her child in two and kept it at the bottom of a bonnet-box. She -had naturally told the jury quite a ridiculous romance: a seducer who had -deserted her; misery, hunger, and then a fit of mad despair on seeing -herself unable to supply the little one’s wants: in a word, the same story -they all told. But it was necessary to make an example. Duveyrier -congratulated himself on having summed up with that lucidity which often -decided a jury’s verdict. -</p> - -<p> -“And what was your sentence?” asked the doctor. -</p> - -<p> -“Five years,” replied the counselor in his new voice, which seemed both -hoarse and sepulchral. “It is time to oppose a dyke to the debauchery -which threatens to submerge Paris.” -</p> - -<p> -Trublot nudged Octave’s elbow; they were both acquainted with the facts of -the attempt at suicide. -</p> - -<p> -“Eh? you hear him?” murmured he. “Without joking, it improves his voice: -it stirs one more, does it not? it goes straight to the heart now. Ah! if -you had only seen him, standing up, draped in his long red robes, with his -mug all askew! On my word! he quite frightened me; he was extraordinary; -oh! you know! a style in his majesty enough to make your flesh creep!” -</p> - -<p> -But he left off speaking, and listened to the ladies in the drawingroom, -who were again on the subject of servants. That very morning, Madame -Duveyrier had given Julie a week’s notice; she had nothing certainly to -say against the girl’s cooking; only, good behavior came before everything -in her eyes. The truth was that, warned by Doctor Juillerat, and anxious -for the health of her son, whose little goings-on she tolerated at home, -so as to keep them under control, she had had an explanation with Julie, -who had been unwell for some time past; and the latter, like a genteel -cook, whose style was not to quarrel with her employers, had accepted her -week’s notice. Madame Josserand at once shared Clotilde’s indignation; -yes, one should be very strict on the question of morality; for instance, -if she kept that slut Adèle in spite of her dirty ways, and her stupidity, -it was because the girl was virtuous. Oh! on that point, she had nothing -whatever to reproach her with! -</p> - -<p> -“Poor Adèle! when one only thinks!” murmured Trublot, again affected at -the thought of the wretched creature, half frozen upstairs beneath her -thin blanket. -</p> - -<p> -Then, bending toward Octave’s ear, he added with a chuckle: -</p> - -<p> -“I say, Duveyrier might at least take her up a bottle of claret!” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, gentlemen,” the counselor was continuing, “statistics will bear me -out, the crime of infanticide is increasing in the most frightful -proportions. Sentiment prevails to too great an extent in the present day, -and far too much consideration is shown to science, to your pretended -physiology, all of which will end by there soon being neither good nor -evil. One cannot cure debauchery; the thing is to destroy it at its root.” -</p> - -<p> -This refutation was addressed above all to Doctor Juillerat, who had -wished to give a medical explanation of the boot-stitcher’s case. -</p> - -<p> -The other gentlemen also exhibited great severity and disgust. Campardon -could not understand vice, uncle Bachelard defended infancy, Théophile -demanded an inquiry, Léon discussed the question of prostitution in its -relations with the state; whilst Trublot, in answer to an inquiry of -Octave’s, talked of Duveyrier’s new mistress, who was a decent sort of a -woman this time, rather mature, but romantic, with a soul expanded by that -ideal which the counselor required to purify love; in short, a worthy -person who gave him a peaceful home, imposing upon him as much as she -liked and sleeping with his friends, without making any unnecessary fuss. -And the Abbé Mauduit alone remained silent, his eyes fixed on the ground, -his mind sorely troubled, and full of an infinite sadness. -</p> - -<p> -They were now about to sing the “Blessing of the Daggers.” The -drawing-room had filled up, a flood of rich dresses was crushing in the -brilliant light from the chandelier and the lamps, whilst gay bursts of -laughter ran along the rows of chairs; and, in the midst of the buzz, -Clotilde in a low voice roughly chided Auguste, who, on seeing Octave -enter with the other gentlemen of the chorus, had caught hold of Berthe’s -arm to make her leave her seat. But he was already beginning to yield, -feeling more and more embarrassed in the presence of the ladies’ dumb -disapproval, whilst his head had become entirely the prey of triumphant -neuralgia. Madame Dambreville’s stern looks quite drove him to despair, -and even the other Madame Campardon was against him. It was reserved to -Madame Josserand to finish him off. She abruptly interfered, threatening -to take back her daughter and never to pay him the fifty thousand francs -dowry; for she was always promising this dowry with the greatest coolness -imaginable. Then, turning toward uncle Bachelard, seated behind her, and -next to Madame Juzeur, she made him renew his promises. The uncle placed -his hand on his heart; he knew his duty, the family before everything! -Auguste, repulsed on all sides, beat a retreat, and again sought refuge in -the window recess, where he once more pressed his burning forehead against -the icy-cold panes. -</p> - -<p> -Then Octave experienced a singular sensation as though his Paris life was -beginning over again. It was as though the two years he had lived in the -Rue de Choiseul had been a blank. His wife was there, smiling at him, and -yet nothing seemed to have passed in his existence; to-day was the same as -yesterday, there was neither pause nor ending. Trublot showed him the new -partner standing beside Berthe, a little fair fellow very neat in his -ways, who gave her, it was said, no end of presents. Uncle Bachelard, who -was now going in for poetry, was revealing himself in a sentimental light -to Madame Juzeur, whom he quite affected with some intimate details -respecting Fifi and Gueulin. Théophile, devoured by doubts, doubled up by -violent fits of coughing, was imploring Doctor Juillerat in an -out-of-the-way corner to give his wife something to quiet her. Campardon, -his eyes fixed on cousin Gasparine, was talking of the diocese of Evreux, -and jumping from that to the great works of the new Rue du Dix Décembre, -defending God and art, sending the world about its business, for at heart -he did not care a hang for it, he was an artist! And behind a flower-stand -there could even be seen the back of a gentleman, whom all the -marriageable girls contemplated with an air of profound curiosity; it was -Verdier, who was talking with Hortense, the pair of them having an -acrimonious explanation, again putting off their marriage till the spring, -so as not to turn the woman and her child into the street in the depth of -winter. -</p> - -<p> -Then the chorus was sung afresh. The architect, with his mouth wide open, -gave out the first line. Clotilde struck a chord, and uttered her cry. And -the other voices burst forth, the uproar increased little by little, and -spread with a violence that scared the candles and caused the ladies to -turn pale. Trublot, having been found wanting among the basses, was being -tried a second time as a baritone. The five tenors were much noticed, -Octave especially, to whom Clotilde regretted being unable to give a solo. -When the voices fell, and she had applied the soft pedal, imitating the -cadenced and distant footsteps of a departing patrol, the applause was -deafening, and she, together with the gentlemen, had every praise showered -upon them. And at the farthest end of the adjoining room, right behind a -triple row of men in evening dress, one beheld Duveyrier clenching his -teeth so as not to cry aloud with anguish, with his mouth all on one side, -and his festering eruptions almost bleeding. -</p> - -<p> -The tea coming next, unrolled the same procession, distributed the same -cups and the same sandwiches. For a moment, the Abbé Mauduit found himself -once more in the middle of the deserted drawing-room. He looked through -the wide-open door, on the crush of guests; and, vanquished, he smiled, he -again cast the mantle of religion over this corrupt middle-class society, -like a master in the ceremonies draping the canker, to stave off the final -decomposition. He must save the Church, as Heaven had not answered his cry -of misery and despair. -</p> - -<p> -At length, the same as on every Saturday, when midnight struck, the guests -began to withdraw. Campardon was among the first to leave, with the other -Madame Campardon. Léon and Madame Dambreville were not long in maritally -following them. Verdier’s back had long ago disappeared, when Madame -Josserand went off with Hortense, bullying her for what she called her -romantic obstinacy. Uncle Bachelard, very drunk from the punch he had -taken, detained Madame Juzeur a moment at the door, finding her advice -full of experience quite refreshing. Trublot, who had stolen some sugar -for Adèle, was making for the passage leading to the kitchen, when the -presence of Berthe and Auguste in the anteroom embarrassed him, and he -pretended to be looking for his hat. -</p> - -<p> -But, just at this minute, Octave and his wife, escorted by Clotilde, also -came out and asked for their wraps. There ensued a few seconds of -embarrassment, The ante-room was not large, Berthe and Madame Mouret were -pressed against each other, whilst Hippolyte was searching for their -things. They both smiled. Then, when the door was opened, the two men, -Octave and Auguste, brought face to face, did the polite, each stepping -aside. At length, Berthe consented to pass out first, after an exchange of -bows. And Valérie, who was leaving in her turn with Théophile, again -looked at Octave in the affectionate way of a disinterested friend. He and -she alone might have told each other everything. -</p> - -<p> -“Good-bye,” repeated Clotilde graciously to the two families, before -returning to the drawing-room. -</p> - -<p> -Octave stopped short. He had just caught sight on the next floor of the -partner, the neat little fair fellow, taking his departure like the rest, -and whose hands Saturnin, who had just left Marie, was pressing in an -outburst of savage tenderness, stuttering the while: “Friend—friend—friend—” -A singular feeling of jealousy at first darted through him. Then he -smiled. It was the past; and he again recalled his amours, all his -campaign of Paris, the complacencies of that good little Pichon, the -repulse he received from Valérie, of whom he preserved a pleasant -recollection, his stupid connection with Berthe, which he regretted as -pure waste of time. Now he had transacted his business, Paris was -conquered; and he gallantly followed her whom in his heart he still styled -Madame Hédouin, every now and then stooping to see that the train of her -dress did not catch in the stair-rods. -</p> - -<p> -The house had once more resumed its grand air of middle-class dignity. He -fancied he could hear Marie’s distant and expiring ballad. Beneath the -porch he met Jules coming in: Madame Vuillaume was at death’s door, and -refused to see her daughter. Then, that was all, the doctor and the priest -retired last and still arguing; Trublot had shyly gone up to Adèle to -attend to her; and the deserted staircase slumbered in a heavy warmth with -its chaste doors inclosing respectable alcoves. One o’clock was striking, -when Monsieur Gourd, whom Madame Gourd was snugly awaiting in bed, turned -out the gas. Then the whole house lapsed into silent darkness, as though -annihilated by the decency of its sleep. Nothing remained, life resumed -its level of indifference and stupidity. -</p> - -<p> -On the following morning, Adèle dragged herself down to her kitchen, so as -to allay suspicion. A thaw had set in during the night, and she opened the -window, feeling stifled, when Hippolyte’s voice rose furiously from the -depths of the narrow courtyard. -</p> - -<p> -“You dirty hussies! Who has been emptying her slops out of the window -again? Madame’s dress is quite spoilt!” -</p> - -<p> -He had hung out one of Madame Duveyrier’s dresses given him to brush, and -he found it all spattered with sour broth. Then, from the top to the -bottom, the servants appeared at their windows and violently exculpated -themselves. The sluice was open and a rush of the most abominable words -flowed from the foul spot. In times of thaw, the walls were steeped with -humidity, and quite a pestilence ascended from the obscure little -courtyard, all the hidden corruptions of the different floors seeming to -melt and ooze out by this common sewer of the house. -</p> - -<p> -“It wasn’t me,” said Adèle, leaning out. “I’ve only just come.” Lisa -abruptly raised her head. -</p> - -<p> -“Hallo! so you’re on your legs again. Well, what was the matter? Is it -true that you almost croaked?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! yes, I had such colics, and not at all funny, I can tell you!” This -put a stop to the quarrel. Valérie and Berthe’s new servants, a big camel -and a little jade, as they were termed, looked curiously at Adèle’s pale -face. Victoire and Julie also wished to see her, and stretched their -necks, and leant their heads back. They all had an idea that there was -something wrong, for it was unnatural to have such gripes and yell out as -she did. -</p> - -<p> -“Perhaps you’ve had something which didn’t agree with you,” said Lisa. -</p> - -<p> -The others burst out laughing, another rush of foul language overflowed, -whilst the wretched creature, awfully frightened, stammered: -</p> - -<p> -“Hold your tongues, with your nasty words! I’m quite ill enough as it is. -You don’t want to finish me off, do you?” -</p> - -<p> -No, of course not. She was as stupid as stupid could be, and dirty enough -to disgust a whole neighborhood; but they all held too closely together to -bring her into any trouble. And they naturally turned to abusing their -masters and mistresses; they criticised the party of the previous evening -with looks of profound repugnance. -</p> - -<p> -“So they’ve all made it up again now?” asked Victoire as she sipped her -glass of syrup and brandy. -</p> - -<p> -Hippolyte, who was wiping madame’s dress, replied: -</p> - -<p> -“They’ve no more heart than my shoes. When they’ve spat in one another’s -faces, they wash themselves with it, to make one believe they’re clean.” -</p> - -<p> -“They must manage to agree somehow or other,” said Lisa. -</p> - -<p> -“Otherwise it wouldn’t take long before our turn came.” -</p> - -<p> -But there was a moment of panic. A door opened, and the servants were -already diving back into their kitchens, when Lisa announced that it was -only little Angèle: there was nothing to fear with her, she understood. -And, from the foul spout, there again arose all the rancor of the -domestics, in the midst of the poisonous stench caused by the thaw. There -was a grand spreading out of all the dirty linen of the last two years. It -was quite consoling not to be ladies and gentlemen, when one beheld the -masters and mistresses living in the midst of it all, and apparently -enjoying it, as they were preparing to go through it all again. -</p> - -<p> -“Eh! I say, you, up there!” suddenly shouted Victoire, “was it with -Mug-askew that you had what didn’t agree with you?” -</p> - -<p> -At this, a ferocious yell of delight quite shook the stinking cesspool. -Hippolyte actually tore madame’s dress; but he did not care, it was far -too good for her as it was! The big camel and the little jade were bent -over the hand-rails of their windows, wriggling in a mad burst of -laughter. Adèle, however, who was quite scared, and who was half asleep -through weakness, started, and she retorted in the midst of the jeers: -</p> - -<p> -“You’re all of you heartless things. When you’re dying, I’ll come and -dance at your bedsides.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! mademoiselle,” resumed Lisa, leaning out to speak to Julie, “how -happy you must feel at leaving such a wretched house in a week! On my -word, one becomes wicked here in spite of oneself. I wish you a better -home in your next place.” -</p> - -<p> -Julie, her arms bare, and dripping with the blood from a turbot she had -been just cleaning for that evening’s dinner, returned to the window -beside the footman. She shrugged her shoulders, and concluded with this -philosophical reply: -</p> - -<p> -“Dear me! mademoiselle, here or there, they’re all alike. In the present -day, whoever has been in the one has been in the other. It’s all Filth and -Company.” -</p> - -<h3> -THE END. -</h3> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PIPING HOT! ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. 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