diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/69808-h/69808-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69808-h/69808-h.htm | 15388 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 15388 deletions
diff --git a/old/69808-h/69808-h.htm b/old/69808-h/69808-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 3529aed..0000000 --- a/old/69808-h/69808-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,15388 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<head> - <meta charset="UTF-8"> - <title> - Numa Roumestan, by Alphonse Daudet—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> - <style> /* <![CDATA[ */ - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2,h3 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; - margin-top: 2em; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; - text-indent: 2em; -} - -.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} -.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} - -.small {font-size: small;} -.smaller {font-size: smaller;} -.x-large {font-size: x-large;} - -.titlepage p {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} -@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } -hr.full {width: 95%; margin-left: 2.5%; margin-right: 2.5%;} - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} -.break {page-break-before: always;} - -ul { list-style-type: none; } -li { text-align: left;} - - -.lock {white-space: nowrap;} - - - -.pagenum { - position: absolute; - right: 1%; - font-size: x-small; - font-weight: normal; - font-variant: normal; - font-style: normal; - letter-spacing: normal; - text-indent: 0em; - text-align: right; - color: #999999; - background-color: #ffffff; -} - - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; -} - -.chapfirst {text-indent: 0;} - -.afterpoetry {text-indent: 0;} - -.booklist p {text-indent: 0;} - -.letterhead {margin-left: 4em;} - -.sig {margin-left: 4em;} - - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - - -.b {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ - -img { - max-width: 100%; - height: auto; -} -img.w100 {width: 100%;} - - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; -} - -.fullpic {border: thin solid;} - - -/* Poetry */ -.poetry-container {text-align: center;} -.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} -/* uncomment the next line for centered poetry in browsers */ -/* .poetry {display: inline-block;} */ -.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} -.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} -/* large inline blocks don't split well on paged devices */ -@media print { .poetry {display: block;} } -.x-ebookmaker .poetry {display: block;} - - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - page-break-before: always; - padding:0.5em; - margin-top: 4em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - -/* Poetry indents */ -.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em;} -.poetry .indent2 {text-indent: -2em;} - -/* Illustration classes */ -.illowe6 {width: 6em;} -.illowe15 {width: 15em;} -.illowp45 {width: 45%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp45 {width: 100%;} - - - /* ]]> */ </style> -</head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Numa Roumestan, by Alphonse Daudet</p> -<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> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Numa Roumestan</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Alphonse Daudet</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Translator: Charles de Kay</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 15, 2023 [eBook #69808]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Henry Flower and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NUMA ROUMESTAN ***</div> - - - - -<div class="break p4 figcenter fullpic illowp45" id="zill_a001" style="max-width: 75em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/zill_a001.jpg" alt="musician with pipe and drum playing to men and women"> - <div class="caption"> - <div class="center"> - <span class="small"><i>Copyright, 1898, by Little Brown & C<sup>o</sup>.</i>        <i>Goupil & C<sup>o</sup>. Paris</i> - </span></div> - - - <div class="p2 center">“‘<i>Qué, Valmajour! suppose you play something for -the pleasure of the pretty lady.</i>’”</div> - - - <div><span class="small">Drawn by <span class="smcap">Adrien Moreau</span>. Photogravured by <span class="smcap">Goupil & Co.</span></span></div> - - <div class="p2 right"> -<span class="small"><span class="smcap">Numa Roumestan.</span> <i>Frontispiece.</i></span></div> - -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="titlepage break p4"> - -<h1> -NUMA<br> -ROUMESTAN</h1> - -<p> -BY<br> - -ALPHONSE DAUDET</p> - -<p> -<span class="small">TRANSLATED BY</span><br> - -CHARLES DE KAY</p> - - -<div class="figcenter illowe6" id="a004"> - <img class="w100" src="images/a004.jpg" alt="decoration"> -</div> - -<p class="p2"> -BOSTON<br> - -LITTLE, BROWN & COMPANY<br> - -<span class="smaller">PUBLISHERS</span> -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="titlepage p4"> - - -<p> -<i>Copyright, 1899, 1900</i>,<br> -<br> -<span class="smcap">By Little, Brown, and Company</span>.</p> - -<p class="p2"> -<i>All rights reserved.</i> -</p> - -<p class="p2"> -University Press:<br> - -<span class="smcap">John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A.</span> -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span></p> - -<div class="x-large center p4 b">NUMA ROUMESTAN.</div> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.<br> - -<span class="smaller">TO THE ARENA!</span></h2> -</div> - - - -<p class="chapfirst">That Sunday—it was a scorching hot Sunday -in July at the time of the yearly competitions for -the department—there was a great open-air festival -held in the ancient amphitheatre of Aps in -Provence. All the town was there—the weavers -from the New Road, the aristocrats of the Calade -quarter, and some people even came all the way -from Beaucaire.</p> - -<p>“Fifty thousand persons at the lowest estimate,” -said the <i>Forum</i> in its account the next day; but -then we must allow for Provençal puffing.</p> - -<p>The truth was that an enormous crowd was -crushed together upon the sun-baked stone -benches of the old amphitheatre, just as in the -palmy days of the Antonines, and it was evident -that the meet of the Society of Agriculture was -far from being the main attraction to this overflow -of the folk. Something more than the Landes -horse-races was needed, or the prize-fights for men -and “half men,” the athletic games of “strangle -the cat” and “jump the swineskin,” or the contests<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span> -for fifers and tabor-players, as old a story to the -townspeople as the ancient red stones of the Arena; -something more was needed to keep this multitude -standing for two hours under that blinding, murderous -sun, upon those burning flags, breathing in an -atmosphere of flame and dust flavored with gunpowder, -risking blindness, sunstroke, fevers and all -the other dangers and tortures attendant on what -is called down there in Provence an open-air -festival.</p> - -<p>The grand attraction of the annual competitions -was Numa Roumestan.</p> - -<p>Ah, well; the proverb “No man is a prophet” -etc. is certainly true when applied to painters and -poets, whose fellow-countrymen in fact are always -the last to acknowledge their claims to superiority -for whatever is ideal and lacking in tangible results; -but it does not apply to statesmen, to political -or industrial celebrities, those mighty advertised -fames whose currency consists of favors and influence, -fames that reflect their glory on city and -townsmen in the form of benefits of every sort -and kind.</p> - -<p>For the last ten years Numa, the great Numa, -leader and Deputy representing all the professions, -has been the prophet of Provence; for ten years -the town of Aps has shown toward her illustrious son -the tender care and effusiveness of a mother, one -of those mothers of the South quick in her expressions, -lively in her exclamations and gesticulatory -caresses.</p> - -<p>When he comes each summer during the vacation<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span> -of the Chamber of Deputies, the ovation begins -as soon as he appears at the station! There -are the Orpheons swelling out their embroidered -banners as they intone their heroic choral songs. -The railway porters are in waiting, seated on the -steps until the ancient family coach which always -comes for the “leader” has made a few turns of its -big wheels down the alley of big plane-trees on the -Avenue Berchère; then they take the horses out -and put themselves into the shafts and draw the great -man with their own hands, amid the shouts of the -populace and the waving of hats, as far as the Portal -mansion, where he gets out. This enthusiasm has -so completely passed into the stage of tradition in -the rites of his arrival that the horses now stop of -themselves, like a team in a post-chaise, at the exact -corner where they are accustomed to be taken out -by the porters; no amount of beating could induce -them to go a step farther.</p> - -<p>From the first day the whole city has changed -its appearance. Here is no longer that melancholy -palace of the prefect where long siestas are -lulled by the strident note of the locusts in the -parched trees on the Cours. Even in the hottest -part of the day the esplanade is alive and the -streets are filled with hurrying people arrayed in -solemn black suits and hats of ceremony, all -sharply defined in the brilliant sunlight, the shadows -of their epileptic gestures cut in black against -the white walls.</p> - -<p>The carriages of the Bishop and the President -shake the highroad; then delegations arrive from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span> -the aristocratic Faubourg where Roumestan is -adored because of his royalist convictions; next -deputations from the women warpers march in -bands the width of the street, their heads held -high under their Arlesian caps.</p> - -<p>The inns overflow with the country people, -farmers from the Camargue or the Crau, whose -unhitched wagons crowd the small squares and -streets as on a market day. In the evening the -cafés crowded with people remain open well on -into the night, and the windows of the club of the -“Whites,” lighted up until an impossible hour, -vibrate with the peals of a voice that belongs to -the popular god.</p> - -<p>Not a prophet in his own country? ’Twas only -necessary to look at the Arena under the intense -blue sky of that Sunday of July 1875, note the -indifference of the crowd to the games going on -in the circus below, and all the faces turned in the -same direction, toward the municipal platform, -where Roumestan was seated surrounded by braided -coats and sunshades for festivals and gay dresses -of many-colored silks. ’Twas only necessary to -listen to the talk and cries of ecstasy and the -simple words of admiration coming in loud voices -from this good people of Aps, some expressed in -Provençal and some in a barbarous kind of French -well rubbed with garlic, but all uttered with an -accent as implacable as is the sun down there, -an accent which cuts out and gives its own to -every syllable and will not so much as spare us -the dot over an “i.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span></p> - -<p>“<i>Diou! qu’es bèou!</i> God! how beautiful he is!”</p> - -<p>“He is a bit stouter than he was last year.”</p> - -<p>“That makes him look all the more imposing.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t push so! there is room for everybody!”</p> - -<p>“Look at him, my son; there’s our Numa. -When you are grown up you can say that you -have seen him, <i>qué!</i>”</p> - -<p>“His Bourbon nose is all there! and not one of -his teeth missing!”</p> - -<p>“Not a single gray hair, either!”</p> - -<p>“<i>Té</i>, I should say not! he is not so very old yet. -He was born in ’32—the year that Louis Philippe -pulled down the mission crosses, <i>pecaïré!</i>”</p> - -<p>“That scoundrel of a Philippe!”</p> - -<p>“They scarcely show, those forty-three years -of his.”</p> - -<p>“Sure enough, they certainly don’t.... <i>Té!</i> -here, great star—”</p> - -<p>And with a bold gesture a big girl with burning -eyes throws a kiss toward him from afar that resounds -through the air like the cry of a bird.</p> - -<p>“Take care, Zette—suppose his wife should -see you.”</p> - -<p>“The one in blue, is that his wife?”</p> - -<p>No, the lady in blue was his sister-in-law, Mlle. -Hortense, a pretty girl just out of the convent, but -one, they say, who already straddled a horse just as -well as a dragoon. Mme. Roumestan was more dignified, -more thoroughbred in appearance, but she -looked much haughtier. These Parisian ladies think -so much of themselves! And so, with the picturesque -impudence of their half-Latin language, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span> -women, standing and shading their eyes with their -hands, proceeded in loud voices deliberately to -pick the two Parisians to pieces—their simple -little travelling hats, their close-fitting dresses -worn without jewelry, which were so great a contrast -to the local toilettes, in which gold chains -and red and green skirts puffed out by enormous -bustles prevailed.</p> - -<p>The men talked of the services rendered by Numa -to the good cause, of his letter to the Emperor, -and his speeches for the White Flag. Oh, if we -had only a dozen men in the Chamber like him, -Henry V would have been on his throne long ago!</p> - -<p>Intoxicated by this circumambient enthusiasm -and wrought up by these remarks, Numa could not -remain quiet in one spot. He threw himself back -in his great arm-chair, his eyes shut, his expression -ecstatic, and swayed himself restlessly back -and forth; then, rising, he strode up and down the -platform and leaned over toward the arena to -breathe in as it were all the light and cries, and -then returned to his seat. Jovial and unceremonious, -his necktie loose, he knelt on his chair, his -back and his boot-soles turned to the crowd, and -conversed with his Paris ladies seated above and -behind him, trying to inoculate them with his -own joy and satisfaction.</p> - -<p>Mme. Roumestan was bored—that was evident -from the expression of abstracted indifference on -her face, which though beautiful in lines seemed -cold and a little haughty when not enlivened by -the light of two gray eyes, two eyes like pearls,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span> -true Parisian eyes, and by the dazzling effect of -the smile on her slightly open mouth.</p> - -<p>All this southern gayety, made up of turbulence -and familiarity, and this wordy race all on the -outside and the surface, whose nature was so much -the opposite of her own, which was serious and -self-contained, grated on her perhaps unconsciously, -because she saw in them multiplied and -vulgarized the same type as that of the man at -whose side she had lived ten years, whom she -had learned to know to her cost. The glaring hot -blue sky, so excessively brilliant and vibrating -with heat, was also not to her liking. How could -these people breathe? Where did they find breath -enough to shout so? She took it into her head -to speak her thought aloud, how delightful a nice -gray misty sky of Paris would be, and how a fresh -spring shower would cool the pavements and make -them glisten!</p> - -<p>“Oh, Rosalie, how can you talk so!”</p> - -<p>Her husband and sister were quite indignant, -especially her sister, a tall young girl in the full -bloom of youth and health, who, the better to see -everything, was making herself as tall as possible. -It was her first visit to Provence, and yet one -might have thought that these shouts and gestures -beneath the burning Italian sky had stirred within -her some secret fibre, some dormant instinct, her -southern origin, in fact, which was revealed in the -heavy eyebrows meeting over her houri-like eyes, -and her pale complexion, on which the fierce -summer sun left not one red mark.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span></p> - -<p>“Do, please, Rosalie!” pleaded Roumestan, who -was determined to persuade his wife. “Get up -and look at that. Did Paris ever show you anything -like that?”</p> - -<p>In the vast theatre widening into an ellipse -that made a great jag in the blue sky, thousands -of faces were packed together on the many rows -of benches rising in terraces; bright eyes made -luminous points, while bright colored and picturesque -costumes spangled the whole mass with -butterfly tints. Thence, as from a huge caldron, -rose a chorus of joyous shouts, the ringing of -voices and the blare of trumpets volatilized, as it -were, by the intense light of the sun. Hardly -audible on the lower stories, where dust, sand and -human breath formed a floating cloud, this din -grew louder as it rose and became more distinct -and unveiled itself in the purer air. Above all -rang out the cry of the milk-roll venders, who bore -from tier to tier their baskets draped with white -linen: “<i>Li pan ou la, li pan ou la!</i>” (Here’s -your milk bread, here’s your milk bread!) The -sellers of drinking-water, cleverly balancing their -green glazed pitchers, made one thirsty just to -hear them cry: “<i>L’aigo es fresco! Quau voù -beùre?</i>” (The water’s fresh! Who will drink?)</p> - -<p>Up on the highest brim of the amphitheatre, -high up, groups of children playing and running -noisily added a crown of sharp calls to the mass -of noise below, much like a flock of martins soaring -high above the other birds.</p> - -<p>And over all of it, how wonderful was the play<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span> -of light and shadow, as with the advance of day -the sun turned slowly in the hollow of the vast -amphitheatre as it might on the disk of a sundial, -driving the crowd along, and grouping it in -the zone of shade, leaving empty those parts of -the vast structure exposed to a terrible heat—broad -stretches of red flags fringed with dry grass -where successive conflagrations have left their -mark in black.</p> - -<p>At times a stone would detach itself in the topmost -tier of the ancient monument, and, rolling -down from story to story, cause cries of terror -and much crowding among the people below, as -if the whole edifice were about to crumble; then -on the tiers there was a movement like the assault of -a raging sea on the dunes, for with this exuberant -race the effect of a thing never has any relation to -its cause, enlarged as it is by dreams and perceptions -that lack all sense of proportion.</p> - -<p>Thus peopled and thus animated once more, the -ancient ruin seemed to live again, and no longer -retain its appearance of a showplace for tourists. -Looking thereon, it gave one the sensation of a -poem by Pindar recited by a modern Greek, which -means a dead language come to life again, having -lost its cold scholarly look. The clear sky, the -sun like silver turned to vapor, these Latin intonations -still preserved in the Provençal idiom, and -here and there, particularly in the cheap seats, the -poses of the people in the opening of a vaulted -passage—motionless attitudes made antique and -almost sculptural by the vibration of the air, local<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span> -types, profiles standing out like those on ancient -coins, with the short aquiline nose, broad shaven -cheeks and upturned chin that Numa showed; all -this filled out the idea of a Roman festival—even -to the lowing of the cows from the Landes which -echoed through the vaults below—those vaults -whence in olden days lions and elephants were -wont to issue to the combat. Thus, when the -great black hole of the <i>podium</i>, closed by a grating, -stood open to the arena all empty and yellow -with sand, one almost expected to see wild beasts -spring out instead of the peaceful bucolic procession -of men and of the animals that had received -prizes in the competitions.</p> - -<p>At the moment it was the turn of the mules led -along in harness, sumptuously arrayed in rich Provençal -trappings, carrying proudly their slender -little heads adorned with silver bells, rosettes, -ribbons and feathers, not in the least alarmed at the -fierce cracking of whips clear and sharply cut, -swung serpent-like or in volleys by the muleteers, -each one standing up full length upon his beast. -In the crowd each village recognized its champions -and named each one aloud:</p> - -<p>“There’s Cavaillon! There’s Maussane!”</p> - -<p>The long, richly-colored file rolled its slow -length around the arena to the sound of musical -bells and jingling, glittering harness, and stopped -before the municipal platform and saluted Numa -with a serenade of whip-crackings and bells; then -passed along on its circular course under the leadership -of a fine-looking horseman in white tights and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span> -high top-boots, one of the gentlemen of the local -club who had planned the function and quite unconsciously -had struck a false note in its harmony, -mixing provincialism with Provençal things and -thus giving to this curious local festival a vague -flavor of a procession of riders at Franconi’s circus. -However, apart from a few country people, no one -paid much attention to him. No one had eyes for -anything but the grand stand, crowded just then -with persons who wished to shake hands with -Numa—friends, clients, old college chums, who -were proud of their relations with the great man -and wished all the world to see them conversing -with him and proposed to show themselves there -on the benches, well in sight.</p> - -<p>Flood of visitors succeeded flood without a break. -There were old men and young men, country gentlemen -dressed all in gray from their gaiters to their -little hats, managers of shops in their best clothes -creased from much lying away in presses, <i>ménagers</i> -or farmers from the district of Aps in their round -jackets, a pilot from Port St. Louis twirling his big -prisoner’s cap in his hands—all bearing their -“South” stamped upon their faces, whether covered -to the eyes with those purple-black beards -which the Oriental pallor of their complexion -accentuates, or closely shaven after the ancient -French fashion, short-necked ruddy people sweating -like terra cotta water coolers; all of them with -flaming black eyes sticking well out from the face, -gesticulating in a familiar way and calling each -other “thee” and “thou”!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span></p> - -<p>And how Roumestan did receive them, without -distinction of birth or class or fortune, all with the -same unquenchable effusiveness! It was: “<i>Té</i>, -Monsieur d’Espalion! and how are you, Marquis?” -“<i>Hé bé!</i> old Cabantous, how goes the -piloting?” “Delighted to see you, President -Bédarride!”</p> - -<p>Then came shaking of hands, embraces, solid -taps on the shoulder that give double value to -words spoken, which are always too cold for the -intense feeling of the Provençal. To be sure, the -conversations were of short duration. Their -“leader” gave but a divided attention, and as he -chatted he waved how-d’ye-do with his hand to -the new-comers. But nobody resented this unceremonious -way of dismissing people with a few -kind words: “Yes, yes, I won’t forget—send in -your claim—I will take it with me.”</p> - -<p>There were promises of government tobacco -shops and collectors’ offices; what they did not -ask for he seemed to divine; he encouraged timid -ambitions and provoked them with kindly words:</p> - -<p>“What, no medal yet, my old Cabantous, after -you have saved twenty lives? Send me your -papers. They adore me at the Navy Department. -We must repair this injustice.”</p> - -<p>His voice rang out warm and metallic, stamping -and separating each word. One would have said that -each one was a gold piece rolling out fresh from -the mint. And every one went away delighted -with this shining coin, leaving the platform with the -beaming look of the pupil who has been awarded<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span> -a prize. The most wonderful thing about this devil -of a man was his prodigious suppleness in assuming -the air and manner of the person to whom he was -speaking, and perfectly naturally, too, apparently in -the most unconscious way in the world.</p> - -<p>With President Bédarride he was unctuous, -smooth in gestures, his mouth fixed affectedly and -his arm stretched forth in a magisterial fashion as -if he were tossing aside his lawyer’s toga before the -judge’s seat. When talking to Colonel Rochemaure -he assumed a soldierly bearing, his hat -slapped on one side; while with Cabantous he -thrust his hands into his pockets, bowed his legs -and rolled his shoulders as he walked, just like an -old sea-dog. From time to time, between two -embraces as it were, he turned to his Parisian -guests, beaming and wiping his steaming brow.</p> - -<p>“But, my dear Numa!” cried Hortense in a low -voice with her pretty laugh, “where will you find -all these tobacco shops you have been promising -them?”</p> - -<p>Roumestan bent his large head with its crop of -close curling hair slightly thinned at the top and -whispered: “They are promised, little sister, not -given.”</p> - -<p>And, fancying a reproach in his wife’s silence, he -added:</p> - -<p>“Do not forget that we are in Provence, where -we understand each other’s language. All these -good fellows understand what a promise is worth. -They don’t expect to get the shops any more -positively than I count on giving them. But they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span> -chatter about them—which amuses them—and -their imaginations are at work: why deprive them -of that pleasure? Besides, you must know that -among us Southerners words have only a relative -meaning. It is merely putting things in their -proper focus.” The phrase seemed to please him, -for he repeated several times the final words, “in -their proper focus—in their proper focus—”</p> - -<p>“I like these people,” said Hortense, who really -seemed to be amusing herself immensely; but -Rosalie was not to be convinced. “Still, words do -signify something,” she murmured very seriously, -as if communing with her own soul.</p> - -<p>“My dear, it is a simple question of latitude.” -Roumestan accompanied his paradox with a jerk of -the shoulder peculiar to him, like that of a peddler -putting up his pack. The great orator of the -aristocracy retained several personal tricks of this -kind, of which he had never been able to break -himself—tricks that might have caused him in -another political party to seem a representative of -the common folk; but it was a proof of power and -of singular originality in those aristocratic heights -where he sat enthroned between the Prince of -Anhalt and the Duc de la Rochetaillade. The -Faubourg St. Germain went wild over this shoulder-jerk -coming from the broad stalwart back that -carried the hopes of the French monarchy.</p> - -<p>If Mme. Roumestan had ever shared the -illusions of the Faubourg she did so no longer, -judging from her look of disenchantment and the -little smile with which she listened to her husband’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span> -words, a smile paler with melancholy than with disdain. -But he left them suddenly, attracted by the -sound of some peculiar music that came to them -from the arena below. The crowd in great excitement -was on its feet shouting “Valmajour! -Valmajour!”</p> - -<p>Having taken the musicians’ prize the day before, -the famous Valmajour, the greatest taborist -of Provence, had come to honor Numa with his -finest airs. In truth he was a handsome youth, -this same Valmajour, as he stood in the centre of -the arena, his coat of yellow wool hanging from -one shoulder and a scarlet belt standing out against -the white linen of his shirt. Suspended from his -left arm he carried his long light tabor by a strap -and with his left hand held a small fife to his lips, -while with his right hand and his right leg held -forward he played on his tabor with a brave and -gallant air. The fife, though but small, filled the -whole place like a chorus of locusts; appropriate -music in this limpid crystalline atmosphere in -which all sounds vibrate, while the deep notes of -the tabor supported this peculiar singing and its -many variations.</p> - -<p>The sound of the wild, sharp music brought -back his childhood to Numa more vividly than -anything else that he had seen that day; he saw -himself a little Provence boy running about to -country fairs, dancing under the leafy shadow of -the plane-trees, on village squares, in the white dust -of the highroads, or over the lavender flowers of -sun-parched hillsides. A delicious emotion passed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span> -through his eyes, for, notwithstanding his forty -years and the parching effects of political life, he -still retained a good portion of imagination, thanks -to the kindliness of nature, a surface-sensibility -that is so deceptive to those who do not know the -true bottom of a man’s character.</p> - -<p>And besides, Valmajour was not an everyday -taborist, one of those common minstrels who pick -up music-hall catches and odds and ends of music -at country fairs, degrading their instrument by -trying to cater to modern taste. Son and grandson -of taborists, he played only the songs of his -native land, songs crooned during night watches over -cradles by grandmothers; and these he did know; -he never wearied of them. After playing some -of Saboly’s rhythmical Christmas carols arranged -as minuets and quadrilles, he started the “March -of the Kings,” to the tune of which, during the -grand epoch, Turenne conquered and burned the -Palatinate. Along the benches where but a moment -before one heard the humming of popular airs like -the swarming of bees, the delighted crowd began -keeping time with their arms and heads, following -the splendid rhythm which surged along through -the grand silences of the theatre like mistral, that -mighty wind; silences only broken by the mad -twittering of swallows that flew about hither and -thither in the bluish green vault above, disquieted, -and as it were crazy, as if trying to discover what -unseen bird it was that gave forth these wonderfully -high and sharp notes.</p> - -<p>When Valmajour had finished, wild shouts of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span> -applause burst forth. Hats and handkerchiefs -flew into the air. Numa called the musician up to -the platform, and throwing his arms around his -neck exclaimed: “You have made me weep, my -boy.” And he showed his big golden-brown eyes -all swimming in tears.</p> - -<p>Very proud to find himself in such exalted company, -among embroidered coats and the mother-of-pearl -handles of official swords, the musician -accepted these praises and embraces without any -great embarrassment. He was a good-looking -fellow with a well shaped head, broad forehead, -beard and moustache of lustrous black against a -swarthy skin, one of those proud peasants from -the valley of the Rhône who have none of the -artful humility of the peasants of central France.</p> - -<p>Hortense had noticed at once how delicately -formed were his hands under their covering of sunburn. -She examined the tabor with its ivory-tipped -drum-stick and was astonished at the lightness of the -old instrument, which had been in his family for two -hundred years, and whose case curiously carved in -walnut wood, decked with light carvings, polished, -thin and sonorous, seemed to have grown pliable -under the patina time had lent it. They admired -above all the little old fife, that simple rustic flute -with three stops only, such as the ancient taborists -used, to which Valmajour had returned out of respect -for tradition and the management of which -he had conquered after infinite pains and patience. -Nothing more touching than to hear the little tale of -his struggles and victory in an odd sort of French.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span></p> - -<p>“It come to me in the night,” he said, “as I -listened me to the nightingawles. Thought I in -meself—look there, Valmajour, there’s a little -birrd o’ God whose throat alone is equal to all the -trills. Now, what he can do with one stop, can’t -you accomplish with the three holes in your little -flute?”</p> - -<p>He talked quietly, with a perfectly confident -tone of voice, without a suspicion of being ridiculous. -No one indeed would have dared to smile -in the face of Numa’s enthusiasm, for he was -throwing up his arms and stamping so that he -almost went through the platform. “How handsome -he is! What an artist!” And after him the -Mayor and President Bédarride and the General -and M. Roumavage, the big brewer from Beaucaire, -vice-consul of Peru, tightly buttoned into -a carnival costume all over silver, echoed the sentiments -of the leader, repeating in convinced tones: -“What a great artist!”</p> - -<p>Hortense agreed with them, and in her usual impulsive -manner expressed her sentiments: “Oh, -yes, a great artist indeed” while Mme. Roumestan -murmured “You will turn his head, poor fellow.”</p> - -<p>But there seemed to be no fear of this for Valmajour, -to judge by his tranquil air; he was not -even in the least excited on hearing Numa suddenly -exclaim:</p> - -<p>“Come to Paris, my boy, your fortune is -assured!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, my sister never would let me go,” he -explained with a quiet smile.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span></p> - -<p>His mother was dead and he lived with his -father and sister on a farm that bore the family -name some three leagues distant from Aps on -the Cordova mountain. Numa swore he would go -to see him before he returned to Paris; he would -talk to his relations—he was sure to make it -a go.</p> - -<p>“And I will help you, Numa,” said a girlish -voice behind him.</p> - -<p>Valmajour bowed without speaking, turned on -his heel and walked down the broad carpet of the -platform, his tabor under his arm, his head held -high and in his gait that light, swaying motion of -the hips common to the Provençal, a lover of -dancing and rhythm. Down below his comrades -were waiting for him and shook him by the hand.</p> - -<p>Suddenly a cry arose, “The farandole, the farandole,” -a shout without end doubled by the echoes -of the stone passages and corridors from which the -shadows and freshness seemed to come which were -now invading the arena and ever diminishing the -zone of sunlight. In a moment the arena was -crowded, crammed to suffocation with merry -dancers, a regular village crowd of girls in white -neckscarfs and bright dresses, velvet ribbons nodding -on lace caps, and of men in braided blouses -and colored waistcoats.</p> - -<p>At the signal from the tabor that mob fell into -line and filed off in bands, holding each other’s -hands, their legs all eager for the steps. A prolonged -trill from the fife made the whole circus -undulate, and led by a man from Barbantane, a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span> -district famous for its dancers, the farandole slowly -began its march, unwinding its rings, executing its -figures almost on one spot, filling with its confused -noise of rustling garments and heavy breathing the -huge vaulted passage of the outlet in which, bit by -bit, it was swallowed up.</p> - -<p>Valmajour followed them with even steps, -solemnly, managing his long tabor with his knee, -while he played louder and louder upon the fife, -as the closely packed crowd in the arena, already -plunged in the bluish gray of the twilight, unwound -itself like a bobbin filled with silk and gold -thread.</p> - -<p>“Look up there!” said Roumestan all of a -sudden.</p> - -<p>It was the head of the line of dancers pouring -in through the arches of the second tier, while the -musician and the last line of dancers were still -stepping about in the arena. As it proceeded the -farandole took up in its folds everybody whom the -rhythm forced to join in the dance. What Provençal -could have resisted the magic flute of Valmajour? -Upborne and shot forward by the -rebounding undernote of the tabor, his music -seemed to be playing on every tier at the same -time, passing the gratings and the open donjons, -overtopping the cries of the crowd. So the farandole -climbed higher and higher, and reached at -last the uppermost tier, where the sun was yet -glowing with a tawny light. The outlines of the -long procession of dancers, bounding in their -solemn dance, etched themselves against the high<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span> -panelled bays of the upper tier in the hot vibration -of that July afternoon, like a row of fine silhouettes -or a series of bas-reliefs in antique stone on the -sculptured pediment of some ruined temple.</p> - -<p>Down below on the deserted platform—for -people were beginning to leave and the lower -tiers were empty—Numa said to his wife as he -wrapped a lace shawl about her to protect her -from the evening chill:</p> - -<p>“Now, really, is it not beautiful?”</p> - -<p>“Very beautiful,” answered the Parisian, moved -this time to the depths of her artistic nature.</p> - -<p>And the great man of Aps seemed prouder of -this simple word of approbation than of all the -noisy homage with which he had been surfeited -for the last two hours.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.<br> - -<span class="smaller">THE SEAMY SIDE OF A GREAT MAN.</span></h2> -</div> - - - -<p class="chapfirst">Numa Roumestan was twenty-two years old -when he came to Paris to complete the law studies -which he had begun at Aix. At that time he -was a good enough kind of a fellow, light-hearted, -boisterous, full-blooded, with big, handsome, prominent -eyes of a golden-brown color and somewhat -frog-like, and a heavy mop of naturally curling -hair which grew low on his forehead like a woollen -cap without a visor. There was not the shadow of -an idea, not the ghost of an ambition beneath that -encroaching thatch of his. He was a typical Aix -student, a good billiard and card player, without a -rival in his capacity for drinking champagne and -“going on the cat-hunt with torches” until three -o’clock in the morning through the wide streets of -the old aristocratic and Parliamentary town. But -he was interested in absolutely nothing. He never -read a book nor even a newspaper, and was deep -in the mire of that provincial folly which shrugs its -shoulders at everything and hides its ignorance -under a pretence of plain common-sense.</p> - -<p>Arrived in Paris, the Quartier Latin woke him up -a little, although there was small reason for it. -Like all his compatriots Numa installed himself<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span> -as soon as he arrived at the Café Malmus, a tall -and noisy barrack of a place with three stories of -tall windows, as high as those in a department -shop, on the corner of the Rue Four Saint Germain. -It filled the street with the noise of billiard -playing and the vociferations of its clients, a -regular horde of savages. The entire South of -France loomed and spread itself there; every -shade of it! Specimens of the southern French -Gascon, the Provençal, the Bordeaux man, the -Toulousian and Marseilles man, samples of the -Auvergnat and Perigordian Southerner, him of -Ariège, of the Ardèche and the Pyrenees, all -with names ending in “as,” “us” and “ac,” resounding, -sonorous and barbarous, such as Etcheverry, -Terminarias, Bentaboulech, Laboulbène—names -that sounded as if hurled from the mouth -of a blunderbuss or exploded as from a powder -mine, so fierce were the ejaculations. And what -shouts and wasted breath merely to call for a cup -of coffee; what resounding laughter, like the noise -of a load of stones shunted from a cart; what -gigantic beards, too stiff, too black, with a bluish -tinge, beards that defied the razor, growing up into -the eyes and joining on to the eyebrows, sprouted -in little tufts in the broad equine nostrils and ears, -but never able utterly to conceal the youth and innocence -of these good honest faces hidden beneath -such tropical growths.</p> - -<p>When not at their lectures, which they attended -conscientiously, these students passed their entire -time at Malmus’s, falling naturally into groups<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span> -according to their provinces or even their parishes, -seated around the same old tables handed down to -them by tradition, which might have retained the -twang of their patois in the echoes of their marble -tops, just as the desks of school-rooms retain the -initials carved on them by school-boys.</p> - -<p>Women in that company were few and far between, -scarcely two or three to a story, poor girls -whom their lovers brought there in a shamefaced -way only to pass an evening beside them behind a -glass of beer, looking over the illustrated papers, -silent and feeling very out of place among these -Southern youths who had been brought up to despise -<i>lou fémélan</i>—females. Mistresses? <i>Té!</i> -By Jove, they knew where to get them whenever -they wanted them for an hour or a night; but -never for long. Bullier’s ball and the “howlers” -did not tempt them, nor the late suppers of the -<i>rôtisseuse</i>. They much preferred to stay at Malmus’s, -talk patois, and roll leisurely from the café -to the schools and then to the table d’hôte.</p> - -<p>If they ever crossed the Seine it was to go to -the Théâtre Français to a performance of one of -the old plays; for the Southerner always has the classic -thing in his blood. They would go in a crowd, -talking and laughing loudly in the street, though -in reality feeling rather timid, and then return -silent and subdued, their eyes dazed by the dust -of the tragic scenes they had just witnessed, and -with closed blinds and gas turned low would have -another game before they went to bed.</p> - -<p>Sometimes, on the occasion of the graduation<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span> -of one of their number, an impromptu feed would -make the whole house redolent of garlic stews and -mountain cheeses smelling strong and rotting nicely -in their blue paper wrappers. After his farewell -dinner the new owner of a sheepskin would take -down from the rack the pipe that bore his initials -and sally forth to be notary or deputy in some far-away -hole beyond the Loire, there to talk to his -friends in the provinces about Paris—Paris which -he thought he knew, but in which really he had -never set his foot!</p> - -<p>In this narrow local circle Numa readily assumed -the eagle’s place. To begin with, he shouted louder -than the others, and then his music was looked -upon as a sign of superiority; at any rate there was -some originality in his very lively taste for music. -Two or three times a week he treated himself to a -stall at the opera and when he came back he overflowed -with recitatives and arias, which he sang -quite agreeably in a pretty good throaty voice -that rebelled against all cultivation. When he -strode into the Café Malmus in a theatrical manner, -singing some bit of Italian music as he passed -the tables, peals of admiration welcomed him: -“Hello, old artist!” the boys would shout from -every gang. It was just like a club of ordinary -citizens in this respect: owing to his reputation -as a musical artist all the women gave him a warm -look, but the men would use the term enviously -and with a suggestion of irony. This artistic fame -did him good service later when he came to power -and entered public life. Even now the name of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span> -Roumestan figures high on the list of all artistic -commissions, plans for popular operas, reforms in -exhibitions of paintings proposed in the Chamber -of Deputies. All that was the result of evenings -spent in haunting the music-halls. He learned -there self-confidence, the actor’s pose, and a certain -way of taking up a position three-quarters -front when talking to the lady at the cashier’s -desk; then his wonder-struck comrades would exclaim: -“<i>Oh! de ce Numa, pas moins!</i>” (Oh, that -Numa! what a fellow he is!)</p> - -<p>In his studies he had the same easy victory; he -was lazy and hated study and solitude, but he -managed to pass his examination with no little -success through sheer audacity and Southern slyness, -the slyness which made him discover the weak -spot in his professor’s vanity and work it for all it -was worth. Then his pleasant, frank expression and -his amiability were also in his favor, and it seemed -as if a lucky star lighted the pathway before him.</p> - -<p>As soon as he obtained his lawyer’s diploma his -parents sent for him to return home, because the -slender pocket money which he cost them meant -privations they could no longer bear. But the -prospect of burying himself alive in the old dead -town of Aps crumbling to dust with its ancient -ruins, an existence composed of a humdrum round -of visits and nothing more exciting than a few lawsuits -over a parcel of party-walls, held out no -inducements to that undefined ambition that the -southern youth vaguely felt underlying his love for -the stir and intellectual life of Paris.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span></p> - -<p>With great difficulty he obtained an extension -of two years more, in which to complete his studies, -and just as these two years had expired and -the irrevocable summons home had come, at the -house of the Duchesse de San Donnino he met -Sagnier during a musical function to which he -had been asked on account of his pretty voice—Sagnier, -the great Sagnier, the Legitimist lawyer, -brother of the duchess and a musical monomaniac. -Numa’s youthful enthusiasm appearing in the -monotonous round of society and his craze for -Mozart’s music carried Sagnier off his feet. He -offered him the position of fourth secretary in his -office. The salary was merely nominal, but it was -being admitted into the employment of the -greatest law office in Paris, having close relations -with the Faubourg Saint Germain and also with the -Chamber of Deputies. Unluckily old Roumestan -insisted on cutting off his allowance, hoping to -force him to return when hunger stared him in the -face. Was he not twenty-six, a notary, and fit to -earn his own bread? Then it was that landlord -Malmus came to the front.</p> - -<p>A regular type was this Malmus; a large, pale-faced, -asthmatic man, who from being a mere waiter -had become the proprietor of one of the largest -restaurants in Paris, partly by having credit, partly -by usury. It had been his custom in early days to -advance money to the students when they were -in need of it, and then when their ships came in, -allow himself to be repaid threefold. He could -hardly read and could not write at all; his accounts<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span> -were kept by means of notches cut in a piece of -wood, as he had seen the baker boys do in his -native town of Lyon; but he was so accurate that -he never made a mistake in his accounts, and, more -than all, he never placed his money badly. Later, -when he had become rich and the proprietor of the -house in which he had been a servant for fifteen -years, he established his business, and placed it -entirely upon a credit basis, an unlimited credit -that left the money-drawer empty at the close of the -day but filled his queerly kept books with endless -lines of orders for food and drink jotted down with -those celebrated five-nibbed pens which are held in -such sovereign honor in the world of Paris trade.</p> - -<p>And the honest fellow’s system was simplicity -itself. A student kept all his pocket money, all -his allowance from home. All had full credit for -meals and drinks and favorites were even allowed -a room in his house. He did not ask for a penny -during term time, letting the interest mount up on -very high sums. But he did not do this carelessly -or without circumspection. Malmus passed two -months every year, his vacation, in the provinces, -making secret inquiry into the health and wealth -of the families of his debtors. His asthma was terrible -as he mounted the peaks of the Cévennes and -descended the low ranges of Languedoc. He was -to be seen, gouty and mysterious, prowling about -among forgotten villages, with suspicious eyes -lowering under the heavy lids that are peculiar to -waiters in all-night restaurants. He would remain -a few days in each place, interview the notary and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span> -the sheriff, inspect secretly the farm or factory of -his debtor’s father, and then nothing was heard of -him more.</p> - -<p>What he learned at Aps gave him full confidence -in Numa. The latter’s father, formerly a -weaver, had ruined himself with inventions and -speculations and lived now in modest circumstances -as an insurance agent, but his aunt, -Mme. Portal, the childless widow of a rich town -councillor, would doubtless leave all her property -to her nephew; so, naturally, Malmus wished -Numa to remain in Paris.</p> - -<p>“Go into Sagnier’s office; I will help you.”</p> - -<p>As a secretary of a man in Sagnier’s position he -could not live in the Quartier Latin, so Malmus -furnished a set of bachelor chambers for him on the -Quai Voltaire, on the courts, paying the rent and -giving him his allowance on credit. Thus did the -future leader face his destiny, everything on the -surface seemingly easy and comfortable, but in -reality in the direst need; lacking pin and pocket -money. The friendship of Sagnier helped him to -fine acquaintances. The Faubourg welcomed him. -But this social success, the invitations in Paris and -to country houses in summer, where he had to -arrive in perfect fashionable outfit, only added to -his expense. After repeated prayers his Aunt -Portal helped him a little, but with great caution -and stinginess, always accompanying her gifts -with long flighty stupidities and Bible denunciations -against “that ruinous Paris.” The situation -was untenable.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span></p> - -<p>At the end of a year he looked for other employment. -Besides, Sagnier required pioneers, -regular navvies for hard work, and Roumestan -was not that sort of man. The Provençal’s indolence -was ineradicable, and above all things he had -a loathing for office work or any hard and continuous -labor. The faculty of attention, which is nothing -if not deep, was absolutely wanting to this -volatile Southerner. That was because his imagination -was too vivid, his ideas too jumbled-up -beneath his dark brows, his mind too fickle, as -even his writing showed; it was never twice the -same. He was all on the surface, all voice, gestures, -like a tenor at the opera.</p> - -<p>“When I am not speaking I cannot think,” he -said naïvely, and it was true. Words with him -never rushed forth propelled by the force of his -thought; on the contrary, at the mechanical -sound of his own words the thoughts formed -themselves in advance. He was astonished and -amused at chance meetings of words and ideas in -his mind which had been lost in some corner of his -memory, thoughts which speech would discover, -pick up and marshal into arguments. Whilst he -held forth he would suddenly discover emotions of -which he had been unconscious; the vibrations of -his own voice moved him to such a degree that there -were certain intonations which touched his heart -and affected him to tears. These were the qualities -of an orator, to be sure, but he did not recognize -them, as his duties at Sagnier’s had hardly been -such as to give him a chance to practise them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span></p> - -<p>Nevertheless, the year spent with the great Legitimist -lawyer had a decisive effect upon his after -life. He acquired convictions and a political party, -the taste for politics and a longing for fortune and -glory.</p> - -<p>Glory came to him first.</p> - -<p>A few months after he left his master, that title -of “Secretary to Sagnier,” which he clung to as an -actor who has appeared once on the boards of -the Comédie Française forever calls himself “of the -Comédie Française,” was the means of getting -him his first case, the defence of a little Legitimist -newspaper called “The Ferret,” much patronized -in the best society. His defence was cleverly and -brilliantly made. Coming into court without the -slightest preparation, his hands in his pockets, he -talked for two hours with such an insolent “go” -to him, and so much good-natured sarcasm, that -the judges were forced to listen to him to the end. -His dreadful southern accent, with its rolling “r’s,” -which he had always been too indolent to correct, -seemed to make his irony only bite the deeper. -It had a power of its own, this eloquence with its -very Southern swing, theatrical and yet familiar, -but above all lucid and full of that broad light -which is found in the works of people down South, -as in their landscapes, limpid to their remotest -parts.</p> - -<p>Of course the paper was non-suited; Numa’s -success was paid for by costs and imprisonment. -So from the ashes of many a play that has ruined -manager and author one actor may snatch a reputation.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span> -Old Sagnier, who had come to hear Numa -plead, embraced his pupil before the assembled -crowd. “Count yourself from this day on a great -man, my dear Numa!” said he, and seemed surprised -that he had hatched such a falcon’s egg. -But the most surprised man was Numa himself, as -with the echo of his own words still sounding in his -ears he descended the broad railless staircase of the -Palais de Justice, quite stunned, as if in a dream.</p> - -<p>After this success and this ovation, after showers -of eulogistic letters and the jaundiced smiles of his -brethren, the coming lawyer naturally felt he was -indeed launched upon a triumphal career. He sat -patiently waiting in his office looking out on the -courtyard, before his scanty little fire; but nothing -came save a few more invitations to dinner, and a -pretty bronze from the foundry of Barbédienne, -a donation from the staff of <i>Le Furet</i>.</p> - -<p>The new great man found himself still facing the -same difficulties, the same uncertain future. Oh! -these professions called liberal, which cannot decoy -and entrap their clients, how hard are their -beginnings, before serious and paying customers -come to sit in rows in their little rooms furnished -on credit with dilapidated furniture and the symbolical -clock on the chimney-piece flanked by -tottering candelabra! Numa was driven to giving -lessons in law among his Catholic and Legitimist -acquaintances; but he considered work like this -beneath the dignity of the man whose name had -been so covered with glory by the party newspapers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span></p> - -<p>What mortified him most of all and made him -feel his wretched plight was to be obliged to go -and dine at Malmus’s when he had no invitation -elsewhere, and no money for a dinner at a fashionable -restaurant. Nothing had changed at Malmus’s; -the same cashier’s lady was enthroned among the -punch-bowls as of old; the same pottery stove -rumbled away near the old pipe-rack; the same -shouts and accents, the same black beards from -every section of the South prevailed; but his generation -had passed, and he looked on the new -generation with the disfavor which a man at maturity, -but without a position, feels for the youths who -make him seem old.</p> - -<p>How could he have existed in so brainless a set? -Surely the students of his day could not have been -such fools! Even their admiration, their fawning -round him like a lot of good-natured dogs, was -insupportable to him.</p> - -<p>While he ate, Malmus, proud of his guest, came -and sat on the little red sofa which shook under -his fits of asthma, and talked to him, while at a -table near by a tall, thin woman took her place, the -only relic of the old days left—a bony creature -destitute of age known in the quarter as “everyone’s -old girl.” Some kind-hearted student now -married and settled far away had opened a credit -for her at Malmus’s before he went. Confined for -so many years to this one pasture, the poor creature -knew nothing of what was going on in the -outside world; she had not even heard of Numa’s -triumph, and spoke to him pityingly as to one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span> -whom fortune had passed by, and in the same rank -and category as herself.</p> - -<p>“Well, poor old chum, how are things a-getting -on? You know Pompon is married, and Laboulbène -has passed his deputy at Caen.”</p> - -<p>Roumestan hardly answered a word, hurried -through his dinner and rushed away through the -streets, noisy with many beershops and fruit stalls, -feeling the bitterness of a life of failure and a general -impression of bankruptcy.</p> - -<p>Several years passed thus, during which his -name became better known and more firmly established, -but with little profit to himself, except for -an occasional gift of a copy of some statuette in -Barbédienne bronze. Then he was called upon to -defend a manufacturer of Avignon, who had made -seditious silk handkerchiefs. There was some sort -of a deputation pictured on them standing about -the Comte de Chambord, but very confusedly -done in the printing, only with great imprudence -he had allowed the initials “H. V.” (Henry Fifth) -to be left, surrounded by a coat of arms.</p> - -<p>Here was Numa’s chance for a good bit of comedy. -He thundered against the stupidity that -could see the slightest political allusion in that -H. V.! Why, that meant Horace Vernet—there -he was, presiding over a meeting of the French -Institute!</p> - -<p>This “tarasconade” had a great local success -that did him more service than any advertisement -won in Paris could; above all, it gained him the -active approbation of his Aunt Portal. At first<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span> -this was expressed by presents of olive oil and -white melons, followed by a lot of other articles of -food—figs, peppers, potted ducks from Aix, caviar -from Martigues, jujubes, elderberry jam and -St. John’s-bread, a lot of boyish goodies of which -the old lady herself was very fond, but which her -nephew threw into a cupboard to spoil.</p> - -<p>Shortly after arrived a letter, written with a quill -in a large handwriting, which displayed the brusque -accents and absurd phrases customary with his -aunt, and betrayed her puzzle-headed mind by its -absolute freedom from punctuation and by the -lively way in which she jumped from one subject -to the other.</p> - -<p>Still, Numa was able to discover the fact that -the good woman desired to marry him off to the -daughter of a Councillor in the Court of Appeals -in Paris, one M. Le Quesnoy, whose wife, a Mlle. -Soustelle from Aps, had gone to school with her -at the Convent of la Calade—big fortune—the -girl handsome, good morals, somewhat cool and -haughty—but marriage would soon warm that up. -And if the marriage took place, what would his old -Aunt Portal give her Numa? One hundred thousand -francs in good clinking tin—on the day of -the wedding!</p> - -<p>Under its provincialisms the letter contained a -serious proposition, so serious indeed that the -next day but one Numa received an invitation to -dine with the Le Quesnoys. He accepted, though -with some trepidation.</p> - -<p>The Councillor, whom he had often seen at the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span> -Palais de Justice, was one of those men who had -always impressed him most. Tall, slender, with a -haughty face and a mortal paleness, sharp, searching -eyes, a thin-lipped, tightly-closed mouth—the -old magistrate, who originally came from Valenciennes, -seemed like that town to be surrounded by -an impregnable wall and fortified by Vauban. His -cool Northern manner was most disconcerting to -Numa. His high position, gained by his exhaustive -study of the Penal Code, his wealth and his -spotless life would have given him a yet higher -position had it not been for the independence of -his views and a morose withdrawal from the world -and its gayeties ever since the death of his only -son, a lad of twenty. All these circumstances -passed before Numa’s mental vision as he mounted -the broad stone steps with their carved hand-rail -of the Le Quesnoy residence, one of the oldest -houses on the Place Royale.</p> - -<p>The great drawing-room into which he was -shown, with its lofty ceiling reaching down to the -doors to meet the delicate paintings of its piers, the -straight hangings with stripes in brown and gold-colored -Chinese silk framing the long windows -that opened upon an antique balcony, and also on -one of the rose-colored corners of brick buildings -on the square—all this was not calculated to -change his first impressions.</p> - -<p>But the welcome given him by Mme. Le Quesnoy -soon put him at his ease.</p> - -<p>This fragile little woman with her sad sweet -smile, wrapped in many shawls and crippled by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span> -rheumatism, from which she had suffered ever since -she came to live in Paris, still preserved the accent -and habits of her dear South, and she loved anything -that reminded her of it. She invited Numa -to sit down by her side, and looking affectionately -at him in the dim light, she murmured: “The -very picture of Evelina!” This pet name of his -aunt, so long unheard by him, touched his quick -sensibility like an echo of his childhood. It appeared -that Mme. Le Quesnoy had long wished -to know the nephew of her old friend, but her -house had been so mournful since her son’s death, -and they had been so entirely out of the world, that -she had never sought him out. Now they had -decided to entertain a little, not because their -sorrow was less keen, but on account of their two -daughters, the eldest of whom was almost twenty -years old; and turning toward the balcony whence -they could hear peals of girlish laughter, she -called, “Rosalie, Hortense, come in—here is -Monsieur Roumestan!”</p> - -<p>Ten years after that visit Numa remembered the -calm and smiling picture that appeared, framed -by the long window in the tender light of the sunset, -of that beautiful young girl, and the absence -of all affected embarrassment as she came towards -him, smoothing the bands of her hair that her -little sister’s play had ruffled—her clear eyes and -direct gaze.</p> - -<p>He felt an instant confidence in and sympathy -with her.</p> - -<p>Once or twice during dinner, nevertheless, when<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span> -he was in the full flow of animated conversation he -was conscious that a ripple as of disdain passed -over the clear-cut profile and pure complexion -of the face beside him—without question that -“cool and haughty” air which Aunt Portal had -mentioned, and which Rosalie got through her -striking resemblance to her father. But the little -grimace of her pretty mouth and the cold blue -of her look softened quickly to a kindly attention, -and she was again under the charm of a surprise -she did not try to conceal. Born and brought up -in Paris, Rosalie had always felt a fixed aversion -to the South; its accent, its manners, even the -country itself as she saw it in the vacations she -occasionally spent at Aps—everything was antipathetic -to her. It seemed to be an instinct of -race, and was the cause of many gentle disputes -with her mother.</p> - -<p>“Nothing would induce me to marry a Southerner,” -Rosalie had laughingly declared, and she -arranged in her own mind a type—a coarse, -noisy, vacant fellow, combining an opera tenor and -a drummer for Bordeaux wines, but with a fine -head and well-cut features. Roumestan came -pretty near to this clear-cut vision of the mocking -little Parisian, but his ardent musical speech, taking -on that evening an irresistible force by reason of -the sympathy of those around him, inspired and -aroused him, seeming even to make his face more -refined. After the usual talk in low voices between -neighbors at the table, those <i>hors-d’œuvres</i> of conversation -that circulate with caviar and anchovy,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span> -the Emperor’s hunting parties at Compiègne became -the general topic of conversation; those -hunts in costume at which the invited guests appeared -as grandees and grand ladies of the Court -of Louis XV. Knowing M. Le Quesnoy to be -a Liberal, Numa launched forth into a magnificent -diatribe, almost a prophetic one. He drew -a picture of the Court as a set of circus riders, -women performers, grooms and jockeys riding -hard under a threatening sky, pursuing the stag to -its death to the accompaniment of lightning-flash -and distant claps of thunder, and then—in the -midst of all this revelry—the deluge, the hunting -horns drowned, all this monarchical harlequinade -ending in a morass of blood and mire!</p> - -<p>Perhaps this piece was not entirely impromptu; -probably he had got it off before at the committee -meeting; but never before had his brilliant speech -and tone of candor in revolt roused anywhere such -enthusiasm and sympathy as he suddenly saw reflected -in one sweet, serious countenance, that he -felt turning toward him, while the gentle face of -Mme. Le Quesnoy lit up with a ray of fun and -seemed to ask her daughter: “Well, how do you -like my Southerner now?”</p> - -<p>Rosalie was captivated. Deep in her inmost -heart she bowed to the power of that voice and to -generous thoughts that accorded so well with -all her youthful enthusiasms, her passion for liberty -and justice. As women at a play will confound -the singer with his song, the actor with his <i>rôle</i>, so -she forgot to make allowances for the artist’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span> -imagination. Oh, if she could but have known -what an abyss of nothing lay below these professional -phrases, how little he troubled himself about -the hunting-parties at Compiègne! She did not -know that he merely needed an invitation with the -imperial crest on it, and he would have joined these -self-same parties, in which his vanity, his tastes as -actor and pleasure-seeker, would have found complete -satisfaction. But she was under the charm. -As he talked, it seemed to her the table grew larger, -the dull, sleepy faces of the few guests, a certain -President of the Chamber and an old physician, -were transfigured; and when they returned to the -drawing-room, the chandelier, lighted for the first -time since her brother’s death, had almost the -dazzling effect upon her of the sun itself.</p> - -<p>The sun was Roumestan.</p> - -<p>He woke up the majestic old house, drove away -mourning and the gloom that was piled in all -the corners, the particles of sadness that accumulate -in old dwellings; he seemed to make the -facets of the mirrors glisten and give new life to -the delightful panel paintings on the walls, which -had been scarce visible for a hundred years.</p> - -<p>“Are you fond of painting, Monsieur?”</p> - -<p>“Fond of it, Mademoiselle? Oh, I should think -so!”</p> - -<p>The truth was that he knew absolutely nothing -about it, but he had a stock of words and phrases -ready for use on that subject as on all others, and -while the servants were arranging the card tables -he made the paintings on the well-preserved Louis<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span> -XIII walls the pretext for a quiet talk very near to -the young girl.</p> - -<p>Of the two, Rosalie knew much the more about -art. Having lived always in an atmosphere of cultivation -and good taste, the sight of a fine bit of -sculpture or a great painting thrilled her with a -special vibratory emotion which she felt rather -than expressed, because of her reserved character -and because the false emotions in the world are -apt to keep down the real ones. At sight of -them a superficial observer, however, noting the -eloquent assurance with which the lawyer talked -and the wide professional gestures he used, as well -as the rapt attention of Rosalie, might have taken -him for some great master giving a lesson to a -pupil.</p> - -<p>“Mamma, can we go into your room? I want -to show Monsieur Roumestan the hunting panel.”</p> - -<p>At the whist table Mme. Le Quesnoy gave a -quick inquiring glance at him whom she always -called, with a peculiar tone of renunciation and -humility in her voice, “Monsieur Le Quesnoy,” -and, receiving an affirmative nod from him which -meant that the thing was in order, gave the desired -permission.</p> - -<p>They crossed a passage lined with books and -found themselves in the old people’s chamber, an -immense room as majestic and antique as the drawing-room. -The panel was above a small door -beautifully carved.</p> - -<p>“It is too dark to see it well,” said Rosalie.</p> - -<p>As she spoke she held up a double candlestick<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span> -she had taken from a card table, and with her arm -raised, her graceful figure in fine relief, she threw -the light upon the picture which showed Diana, -the crescent on her brow, among her huntress -maidens in the landscape of a pagan Paradise. But -at this gesture of a Greek torch-bearer the light -from the double candles fell upon her own head with -its simple coiffure and sparkled in her clear eyes -with their high-bred smile and on the virginal -curves of her slender yet stately bust. She seemed -more of a Diana than the pictured goddess herself. -Roumestan looked at her; carried away by her -charm of youthful innocence and candid chastity, -he forgot who she was and what his purpose had -been in coming, yes, all his dreams of fortune and -ambition! He felt an insane desire to clasp this -supple form in his arms, to shower kisses on her -fine hair, the delicate fragrance of which intoxicated -him, to carry off this enchanting being to be the -safeguard and joy of his whole life; and something -told him that if he attempted it she would permit -it, and that she was his, his entirely, conquered, -vanquished at the first sight.</p> - -<p>Fire and wind of the South, you are irresistible!</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.<br> - -<span class="smaller">THE SEAMY SIDE OF A GREAT MAN (<i>continued</i>).</span></h2> -</div> - - - -<p class="chapfirst">If ever people were unsuited for life side by -side it was these two. Opposites by instinct, by -education and temperament, thinking alike on no -one subject, they were the North and the South -face to face without the slightest chance of fusion. -Love feeds on contrasts like this and laughs when -they are pointed out, so powerful does it feel -itself. But later, when everyday life sets in, during -the monotony of days and nights passed -beneath the same roof, that mist which constitutes -love disappears; the veil is lifted; they begin to -see each other, and, what is worse, to judge each -other!</p> - -<p>It was some time before the awakening came -to these young people; at least with Rosalie the -illusion lasted. Clear-sighted and clever on all -other subjects, for a long while she remained blind -to Numa’s faults and could not see how far in many -ways she was his superior. It had not taken him -long to relapse into his old self again. Passion -in the South is short-lived because of its very -violence. And then the Southerner is so perfectly -assured of the inferiority of women that, once -married and sure of his happiness, he installs himself<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span> -like a bashaw in his home, receiving love as -homage due and not of much importance; for, -after all, it takes up a good deal of time to be -loved, and Numa was much preoccupied just then -arranging the new life which his marriage, his -wealth and the high position in the law courts -as son-in-law to M. Le Quesnoy necessitated.</p> - -<p>The one hundred thousand francs given him by -Aunt Portal sufficed to pay his debts to Malmus and -the furnisher and to wipe out forever the dreary -record of his straitened bachelor days. It was a -delightful change from the humble <i>frichti</i> (lunch) -at Malmus’s on the old sofa with its worn red velvet, -in company of “every one’s old girl,” to the -dining-room in his new house in the Rue Scribe -where, opposite his dainty little Parisian wife, he -presided over the sumptuous dinners that he offered -to the magnates of the law and of music.</p> - -<p>The Provençal loved a life of eating, luxury and -display, but he liked it best in his own house, without -any trouble or ceremony, where a certain -looseness was possible over a cigar and risky -stories might be told. Rosalie resigned herself to -keeping open house, the table always set, ten or -fifteen guests every evening, and never anybody -but men, among whose black coats her evening -dress made the only point of color. There she -stayed until with the serving of the coffee and the -opening of cigar boxes she would slip away, leaving -them to their politics and the coarse roars of -laughter that accompany the close of bachelor -dinners.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span></p> - -<p>Only the mistress of a house knows what -domestic complications arise when such constant -and unusual services are required every day of the -servants. Rosalie struggled uncomplainingly with -this problem and tried to bring some order out of -chaos, carried away as she was by the whirlwind -of her terrible genius of a husband, who did not -spare her the turbulence of his own nature, yet -between two storms had a smile of approbation for -his little wife. Her only regret was that she never -had him enough to herself. Even at breakfast, -that hasty morning’s meal for a busy lawyer, there -was always a guest between them, namely that -male comrade without whom the man of the South -could not exist, that inevitable some one to answer -a bright remark and call forth a flash from his own -wits, the arm on which condescendingly to lean, -some henchman to catch his handkerchief as he -sallied forth to the Palace of Justice!</p> - -<p>Ah, how she longed to accompany him across -the Seine, how glad she would have been to call -for him on rainy days, wait, and bring him home in -her carriage, nestled up to him behind the windows -blurred with raindrops! She did not dare to -suggest such things any more, so sure was she of -some excuse, an appointment in the Lawyers’ Hall -with some one of three hundred intimate friends -of whom the Provençal would say with deep -emotion:</p> - -<p>“He adores me! He would go through fire and -water for me!”</p> - -<p>That was his idea of friendship. But in other<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span> -respects, no selection whatever as to his friends! -His easy good-nature and lively capriciousness -caused him to throw himself into the arms of -each man he met, but made him as easily drop -him. Every week there was a new craze for someone -whose name came up incessantly, a name -which Rosalie wrote down conscientiously on the -little menu card, but which presently disappeared -as suddenly as if the new favorite’s personality had -been as flimsy and as easily burned as the little -colored card itself.</p> - -<p>Among these birds of passage one alone remained -stationary, more from force of childish -habit than from anything else, for Bompard and -Roumestan were born in the same street at Aps. -Bompard was an institution in the house, found -there in a place of honor when the bride came -home. He was a cadaverous creature with Don -Quixote’s head and a big eagle’s nose and eyes like -balls of agate set in a pitted, saffron-colored complexion -that looked like Cordova leather; it was -lined and seamed with the wrinkles one sees only -in the faces of clowns and jesters which are forced -constantly into contortions.</p> - -<p>Bompard had never been a comedian, however. -Numa had found him again in the chorus of the -opera where he had sung for a short time. Beyond -this, it was impossible to say what was real -in the shifting sands of that career. He had been -everywhere, seen everything and practised all -trades. No great man or great event could be -mentioned without his saying: “He is a friend of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span> -mine,” or “I was present at the time,” and then -would follow a long story to prove his assertion.</p> - -<p>In piecing together these fragments of his history -most astonishing chronological conclusions -were arrived at; thus, at the same date Bompard -led a company of Polish and Caucasian deserters -at the siege of Sebastopol and was choir-master to -the King of Holland and very close to the king’s -sister, for which latter indiscretion he was imprisoned -for six months in the fortress at The -Hague—which did not prevent him at the same -time from making a forced march from Laghouat -to Gadamès through the great African desert.</p> - -<p>He told these wonderful tales with rare gestures, -in a solemn tone, using a strong Southern accent, -but with a continual twitching and contortion of -his features as trying to the eyes as the shifting of -the bits of glass in a kaleidoscope.</p> - -<p>The present life of Bompard was as mysterious -as his past. How and where did he live? And -on what? He was forever talking of wonderful -schemes for making money, such as a new and -cheap manner of asphalting one corner of Paris, or, -all of a sudden, he was deep in the discovery of an -infallible remedy for the phylloxera and was only -waiting for a letter from the Minister to receive the -prize of one hundred thousand francs in order to be -in funds to pay his bill at the little dairy where he -took his meals, whose managers he had almost -driven insane with his false hopes and extravagant -dreams.</p> - -<p>This crazy Southerner was Roumestan’s delight.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span> -He took him about, making a butt of him, egging -him on, warming him up and exciting his folly. If -Numa stopped in the street to speak to any one, -Bompard stepped aside with a dignified air as if -about to light a cigar. At funerals or first nights he -was always turning up to ask every one in the most -impressive haste: “Have you seen Roumestan -anywhere?” He came to be as well known as -Numa himself. This type of parasite is not uncommon -in Paris; each great man has a Bompard -dragging at his heels, who walks on in his shadow -and comes to have a kind of personality reflected -from that of his patron. It was a mere chance -that Roumestan’s Bompard really had a personality -of his own, not a reflection of his master. -Rosalie detested this intruder on her happiness, -always between her and her husband, appropriating -to himself the few precious moments that -might have been hers alone. The two old friends -always talked a patois that seemed to set her -apart and laughed uproariously at untranslatable -local jokes. What she particularly disliked about -him was the necessity he was under of telling lies. -At first she had believed these inventions, so unsuspicious -was her true and candid nature, whose -greatest charm was its harmony in word and -thought, a combination that was audible in the -crystalline clearness and steadiness of her musical -voice.</p> - -<p>“I do not like him—he tells lies,” she said in -deep disgust to Roumestan, who only laughed. -To defend his friend, he said:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span></p> - -<p>“No, he’s not a liar; he’s only gifted with a -vivid imagination. He is a sleeper awake who -talks out his dreams. My country is full of just -such people. It is the effect of the sun and the -accent. There is my Aunt Portal—and even I -myself—if I did not have myself well in hand—”</p> - -<p>She placed her little hand over his mouth:</p> - -<p>“Hush, hush! I could not love you if you -came from that side of Provence!”</p> - -<p>The sad fact was that he did come from that -very countryside. His assumed Paris manners -and the veneer of society restrained him somewhat, -but she was soon to see that terrible South appear -in him after all, commonplace, brutal, illogical. -The first time that she realized it was in regard -to religion, about which, as about everything else, -Numa was entirely in line with the traditions of -his province.</p> - -<p>Numa was the Provençal Roman Catholic who -never goes to communion, never confesses himself -except in cholera times, never goes to church -except to bring his wife home after mass, and then -stands in the vestibule near the holy-water basin -with the superior air of a father who has taken his -children to a show of Chinese shadows—yet a -man who would let himself be drawn and quartered -in defence of a faith he does not feel, which -in no way controls his passions or his vices.</p> - -<p>When he married he knew that his wife was of -the same church as himself and that at the wedding -in St. Paul’s the priest had eulogized them in -due form as befitted all the candles and carpets<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span> -and gorgeous flowers that go with a first-class -wedding. He had never worried further about it. -All the women whom he knew—his mother, his -cousins, his aunt, the Duchesse de San Donnino, -were devout Catholics; so he was much surprised -after several months of marriage to observe that -his wife never went to church. He spoke of it:</p> - -<p>“Do you never go to confession?”</p> - -<p>“No, my dear,” she answered quietly, “nor you -either, so far as I can see.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I—that is quite different!”</p> - -<p>“Why so?”</p> - -<p>She looked at him with such a sincerely puzzled -expression—she seemed so far from understanding -her own inferiority as a woman, that he made -no reply and waited for her to explain.</p> - -<p>No, she was not a free-thinker, nor a strong-minded -woman. Educated in Paris at a good -school, she had had for confessor a priest of Saint-Laurent -up to seventeen; when she left school, -and even for some time after, she had fulfilled all -her religious duties at the side of her mother, who -was a bigoted Southerner. Then, one day, something -within her seemed suddenly to give way, and -she declared to her parents that she felt an insuperable -repulsion for the confessional. Her -pious mother would have tried to overcome what -she looked upon as a whim, but her father had -interfered:</p> - -<p>“Let her alone; it took hold of me just as it has -seized her and at the same age.”</p> - -<p>And since then she had consulted only her own<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span> -pure young conscience in regard to her actions. -Otherwise she was a Parisian, a woman of the -world to her finger-tips, and disliked the bad taste -in displays of independence. If Numa wished to -go to church she would go with him, as for a long -while she had gone with her mother; but at the -same time she would not lie or pretend to believe -that in which she had lost all faith.</p> - -<p>Numa listened to her in speechless amazement, -alarmed to hear such sentiments expressed with a -firmness and conviction in her own moral being -that dissipated all his Southern ideas about the -dependency of women.</p> - -<p>“Then you don’t believe in God?” he asked -in his best forensic manner, his raised finger -pointed solemnly toward the moldings of the ceiling. -She gave a cry of astonishment: “Is it -possible to do so?”—so spontaneously and with -such conviction that it was as good as a confession -of faith. Then he fell back on what the world -would say, on social conventions, on the intimate -connection between religion and monarchy. All -the ladies whom they knew went to church, the -duchess and Mme. d’Escarbès; they had their -confessors to dine and at evening parties. Her -strange views would have a bad effect upon them -socially, were they known. He suddenly ceased -speaking, feeling that he was floundering about in -commonplaces, and the discussion ended there. -For several Sundays in succession he went through -a grand and hollow form of taking his wife to mass, -whereby Rosalie gained the boon of a pleasant<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span> -walk on her husband’s arm; but he soon wearied -of the business, pleaded important engagements -and let the religious question drop.</p> - -<p>This first misunderstanding made no breach between -them. As if seeking pardon, the young -wife redoubled her devotion to her husband and -her usual clever, smiling deference to his wishes. -No longer so blind as in the earlier days, perchance -she sometimes felt a vague premonition -of things that she would not admit even to herself; -but she was happy still, because she wished -to be so, and because she lived in that dreamlike -atmosphere enveloping the new life of a young -married woman still surrounded by the dreams -and uncertainty which are like the clouds of white -tulle of the wedding dress that drape the form of -a bride. The awakening was bound to come; to -her it was sudden and frightful.</p> - -<p>One summer day—they were staying at Orsay, -a country seat belonging to the Le Quesnoys—her -father and husband had already gone up to -Paris, as they did every morning, when Rosalie -discovered that the pattern for a little garment -she was making was not to be found. The garment -was part of the outfit for the expected heir. -It is true there are beautiful things to be bought -ready-made at the shops, but real mothers, the -women who feel the mother-love in advance, like -to plan and cut and sew; and as the pile of little -clothes increases in the box, as each garment is -finished, feel that they are hastening the matter -and each object is bringing the advent of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span> -longed-for birth one step nearer. Rosalie would -not for worlds have allowed any other hand -to touch this tremendous work which had been -begun five months before—as soon as she was -sure of her coming happiness. On the bench where -she sat under the big catalpa tree down there at -Orsay were spread out dainty little caps that were -only big enough to be tried on one’s fist, little -flannel skirts and dresses, the straight sleeves suggesting -the stiff gestures of the tiny form for which -they were designed—and now, here she was without -this most important pattern!</p> - -<p>“Send your maid up town for it,” suggested her -mother.</p> - -<p>A maid, indeed! What should she know about -it? “No, no, I shall go myself. I will have finished -my shopping by noon, and then I shall go -and surprise Numa and eat up half his luncheon.”</p> - -<p>It was a beautiful idea, this bachelor luncheon -with her husband, alone in the half-darkened house -in the Rue Scribe, with the curtains all gone and -the furniture covered up; it would be a regular -spree! She laughed to herself as all alone she ran -up the steps, her errands done, and put her key -softly in the lock so that she might surprise him. -“It is pretty late, he has probably finished.”</p> - -<p>Indeed, she did find only the remnants of a dainty -meal for two upon the table in the dining room, -and the footman in his checked jacket hard at it -emptying all the bottles and dishes. She thought -of nothing at first but that her want of punctuality -had spoiled her little plan. If only she had not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span> -loafed so long in that shop over those adorable -little garments, all lace and embroideries!</p> - -<p>“Has your master gone out?”</p> - -<p>The slowness of the servant in answering, the -sudden pallor that overspread his big impudent -face framed in long whiskers, did not at first strike -her. She only saw a servant embarrassed at being -caught helping himself to his master’s wines and -good things. Still it was absolutely necessary to -say that his master was still there, but that he was -very much occupied and would be occupied for -quite a while. But it took him some time to -stammer out this information. How the fellow’s -hands trembled as he cleared off the table and -began to rearrange it for his mistress’s luncheon!</p> - -<p>“Has he been lunching alone?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Madame; at least, only Monsieur Bompard.”</p> - -<p>She had suddenly caught sight of a black lace -scarf lying on a chair. The foolish fellow saw it -at the same moment, and as their eyes were fixed -on the same object the whole thing stood before -her in a flash. Quickly, without a word, she -crossed the little waiting room, went straight to -the door of the library, opened it wide, and fell -flat on the floor. They had not even troubled -themselves to lock the door!</p> - -<p>And if you had seen the woman! Forty years -old, a washed-out blonde with a pimply complexion, -thin lips and eyelids wrinkled like an old -glove! Under her eyes were purple scars, signs -of her evil life; her shoulders were bony and her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span> -voice harsh. But—she was high-born, the Marquise -d’Escarbès! which to the Southerner means -everything. The escutcheon concealed her defects -as a woman. Separated from her husband through -an unsavory divorce suit, disowned by her family -and no longer received in the great houses of the -Faubourg, Mme. d’Escarbès had gone over to the -Empire and had opened a political diplomatic -salon, one of those which are for the police rather -than politicians, where one could find the most -notorious persons of the day—without their wives. -Then, after two years of intrigues, having gathered -together quite a following, she determined to appeal -her law case. Roumestan, who had been her -lawyer in the first suit, could not very well refuse -to take up the second. He hesitated, nevertheless, -for public opinion was very strong against her. -But the entreaties of the Marquise took such convincing -steps and the lawyer’s vanity was so flattered -by the steps themselves that he had yielded. -Now that the case was soon to be on, they saw -each other every day, either at her house or his -own, pushing the affair vigorously and from two -standpoints.</p> - -<p>This terrible discovery nearly killed Rosalie; -it struck her doubly in her sensibility to pain -as a woman with child, bearing as she did two -hearts within her, two spots for suffering. The -child was killed, but the mother lived. But after -three days of unconsciousness, when she regained -memory and the power of suffering, her tears -poured forth in a torrent, a bitter flood that nothing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span> -could stem. When she had wept her heart -out over the faithlessness of her husband, the -empty cradle and the dainty little garments resting -useless under the transparent blue curtains caused -her anguish to break forth again in tears—but -without a cry or lament!</p> - -<p>Poor Numa was in almost as deep despair as she -was. The hope of a little Roumestan, “the eldest,” -who is always a great personage in Provençal -families, was gone forever, destroyed by his own -fault. The pale face of his wife with its resigned -expression, her compressed lips and smothered -sobs, nearly broke his heart—her grief was so different -from his way of acting, from the coarse, -superficial sensibility that he showed as he sat at -the foot of his victim’s bed, saying at intervals with -swimming eyes and trembling lips, “Come now, -Rosalie, come now!” That was all he could find -to say; but what vanity in that “Come now,” uttered -with the Southern accent that so easily takes -on a sympathetic tone; yet beneath it all one -seemed to hear: “Don’t let it worry you, my -darling little pet! Is it really worth while? Does -it keep me from loving you just the same?”</p> - -<p>It is true that he did love her just as much as -his shallow nature was capable of loving constantly -any one. He could not bear to think of any one -else presiding over his house, caring for him, or -petting him.</p> - -<p>“I must have devotion about me,” he said naïvely, -and he well knew that the devotion she had to -give was the perfection of everything that a man<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span> -could desire; so the idea of losing her was horrible -to him. If that is not love, what is?</p> - -<p>Rosalie, alas, was thinking on quite another line. -Her life was wrecked, her idol fallen, her confidence -in him forever lost. And yet she had forgiven -him. She had forgiven him, however, as a -mother yields to the child that cries and begs -for her pardon; also for the sake of their name, -her father’s honored name that the scandal of a -separation would have tarnished, and because -every one believed her happy and she could not -let them know the truth.</p> - -<p>But let him beware! After this pardon so -generously accorded, she warned him, a repetition -of such an outrage would not find the same -clemency. Let him never try it again, or their -lives would be separated cruelly and forever under -the eyes of the whole world. There was a firmness -in her tone and look as she said this, which -showed her capable of revenging her wounded -woman’s pride upon a society that held her imprisoned -in its bonds.</p> - -<p>Numa understood; he swore in perfect good -faith that he would sin no more. He was still -upset at the risk he had run of losing his happiness -and that repose which was so necessary to -him, all for an intrigue which had only appealed to -his vanity. It was an immense relief to be rid of -his great lady, his bony marquise, who but for her -noble coat-of-arms was hardly more desirable than -poor “every one’s old girl” at the Café Malmus; to -have no more love-letters to write and rendezvous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span> -to make and keep. The knowledge that this silly -sentimental nonsense which had so tried his ease-loving -nature was over and done with enchanted -him as much as his wife’s forgiveness and the -restored peace of his household.</p> - -<p>He was as happy as before all this had happened. -No apparent change took place in their -mode of life—the table always laid, the same -crowd of guests, the same round of entertainments -and receptions at which Numa sang and declaimed -and strutted, unconscious that at his side sat one -whose beautiful eyes were evermore open and -aware of facts under their veil of actual tears. -She understood her great man now: all words and -gestures, kind-hearted and generous at times, but -kind only a little while, made up of caprice, a -love of showing off and a desire to please like -a coquette. She realized the shallowness of such a -nature, undecided in his beliefs as in his dislikes; -above all she feared for both their sakes the weakness -hidden under his swelling words and resounding -voice, a weakness which angered and yet -endeared him to her, because, now that her wifely -love had vanished, she felt the yearning towards him -that a mother feels to a wayward child. Always -ready to sacrifice herself and to be devoted in spite -of treachery, the secret fear haunted her still: “If -only he does not wear out my patience!”</p> - -<p>Clear-sighted as she was, Rosalie quickly observed -a change in her husband’s political opinions. -His relations with the Faubourg St. Germain had -begun to cool. The nankin waistcoat and fleur-de-lis<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span> -pin of old Sagnier no longer awed him. Sagnier’s -mind, he said, was not what it had been. -It was his shadow alone that presided at the Palace, -a sleepy ghost that recalled far too well the epoch -of the Legitimacy and its morbid inactivity, the -next thing to death.</p> - -<p>So it was that Numa slowly, gently developed towards -the Empire, opening his doors to notable -men among the Imperialists whom he had met at -the house of Mme. d’Escarbès, whose influence -had prepared him for this very change.</p> - -<p>“Look out for your great man; I am afraid he -is going to moult,” said the councillor to his -daughter at dinner one day, when the lawyer had -been letting his coarse satire loose regarding the -affair of Froschdorf, which he compared to the -wooden horse of Don Quixote, stationary and -nailed down, while his rider with bandaged eyes -believed he was careering far through heavenly -space.</p> - -<p>She did not have to ask many questions. Deceitful -as he might be, his lies, which he scorned -to cover with complications or with finesse, were -so careless that they betrayed him at once.</p> - -<p>Going into the library one morning she found -him absorbed in writing a letter, and leaning over -him with her head near his she inquired:</p> - -<p>“To whom are you writing?”</p> - -<p>He stammered, tried to invent something, but -the clear eyes searched him through and through -like a conscience; he had an impulse to be frank -because he could not help it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span></p> - -<p>It was a letter to the emperor accepting the -position of councillor of state, written in the dry -but emphatic style, that style at the bar which he -employed when addressing the Bench whilst he -gesticulated with his long sleeves. It began thus: -“A Vendean of the South, raised in the belief in -the monarchy and a respectful reverence for the -past, I feel that I shall not do violence to my -honor or to my conscience—”</p> - -<p>“You must not send that!” said she quickly.</p> - -<p>He flew into a rage, talked loudly and brutally -like a shopman at Aps laying down the law in his -own household. What business was it of hers, -after all was said and done? What did she mean -by it? Did he interfere with her about the shape -of her bonnets or the models of her gowns? He -stormed and thundered as if he had a public -audience, but Rosalie maintained a tranquil, almost -disdainful silence at such violence as this, -mere remnant of a will already broken, sure of her -victory in the end. These crises which weaken -and disarm them are themselves the ruin of exuberant -natures.</p> - -<p>“You must not send that letter. It would give -the lie to your whole life, to all your obligations—”</p> - -<p>“My obligations! and to whom?”</p> - -<p>“To me. Remember how we first knew each -other, how you won my heart by your protestations -and disgust at the emperor’s masquerades. It -was not so much the sentiments that I admired in -you as the fixed purpose that you showed to uphold<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span> -a righteous cause once adopted—your steady -manly will!”</p> - -<p>But he defended his conduct. Ought he eat his -heart out all his life long in a party frozen stiff, -without springs of action, a camp deserted and -abandoned under the snow? Besides, it was not he -who went to the Empire, it was the Empire that -came to him. The emperor was an excellent man, -full of ideas, much superior to his court—in fine, -he brought to bear all the good arguments for -playing the traitor. But Rosalie would accept -none of them, and tried to show him that his -conduct would not only be treacherous but short-sighted:</p> - -<p>“Do you not see how uneasy these people are, -how they feel that the earth is mined and hollow -beneath their feet? The slightest jar from a rolling -stone and the whole thing will crumble! And -into what a gulf!”</p> - -<p>She talked with perfect clearness, gave details, -repeated many things that she, always a silent -person, had picked up after dinner from the talks -when the men would leave the women, intelligent -or not, to languish over toilets and worldly scandal -in conversation that even such topics could -not enliven.</p> - -<p>“Odd little woman!” thought Roumestan. Where -had she learned all that she was saying? He -could not get over the fact that she was so clever; -and, following one of those sudden changes that -make these gusty natures so lovable, he took this -reasoning little head, so charming with youth and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span> -yet so intelligent, between his hands and covered -it with a passion of tender kisses.</p> - -<p>“You are right, a thousand times right! I ought -to write just the opposite!”</p> - -<p>He was going to tear up the rough copy, but he -noted that in the opening sentence there was a -phrase that pleased him, one that might still serve -his turn if it were changed a bit, somewhat in this -way:</p> - -<p>“A Vendean of the South, raised in the belief -in the monarchy and a respectful reverence for -the past, I feel that I should do violence to my -honor and conscience, if I accepted the post which -your Majesty—” etc.</p> - -<p>This polite but firm refusal published in all the -Legitimist papers raised Roumestan to a very different -place in public opinion; it made his name a -synonym for incorruptibility. “Cannot be rent,” -wrote the <i>Charivari</i> under an amusing cartoon -which represented the toga of the great jurist -resisting the violent tugging of the several political -parties.</p> - -<p>Shortly after this the Empire went to pieces and -when the Assembly of Bordeaux met Numa had -the choice between three departments which had -elected him their Deputy to the House, entirely on -account of his letter to the emperor. His first -speeches, delivered with a somewhat forced and -turgid eloquence, soon made him leader of all the -parties of the Right.</p> - -<p>He was only the small change of old Sagnier, -but in these days of middle-class races, blue blood<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span> -rarely came to the front, and so the new leader -triumphed on the benches of the Chamber as -easily as on the old red divans at Father Malmus’s -café.</p> - -<p>Councillor-general in his own department, the -idol of the entire South, and raised still higher by -the position of his father-in-law, who after the fall -of the Empire had become first president of -the court of appeals, Numa without doubt was -marked out to become sooner or later a cabinet -minister. In the meantime a great man in the -eyes of every one but his own wife, he carried his -fresh glories about, from Paris to Versailles and -down to Provence, amiable, familiar, jolly and unconventional, -bringing his aureola with him, it is -true, but only too willing to leave it in its band-box, -like an opera hat when no ceremony calls for -its presence.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.<br> - -<span class="smaller">A SOUTHERN AUNT—REMINISCENCES OF -CHILDHOOD.</span></h2> -</div> - - - -<p class="chapfirst">The Portal mansion in which the great man dwells -when he is in Provence is one of the show-places -of Aps. It is mentioned by the Joanne guide-book -in the same category as the temple of Juno, the -amphitheatre, the old theatre and the tower of the -Antonines, relics of the old Roman days of which -the town is very proud and always keeps well furbished -up. But it is not the heavy ancient arched -gate of the old provincial residence itself, embossed -with immense nails, nor the high windows, bristling -with iron bars, spikes and pike-heads of a threatening -sort, that they point out to the stranger who -comes to see the town. It is only a little balcony -with its black iron props on the first floor, corbelled -out above the porch. For it is here that -Numa shows himself to the crowd when he arrives -and it is from here that he speaks. The whole -town is witness that the iron balcony, which was -once as straight as a rule, has been hammered -into such an original shape, into such capricious -curves, by the blows showered upon it by the -powerful fist of the orator.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span></p> - -<p>“<i>Té, vé!</i> our Numa has molded the iron!”</p> - -<p>This they will say with bulging eyes and so -much earnestness as to leave no room for doubt—say -it with that imposing rolling of the “r” thus: -<i>pétrrri le ferrr!</i></p> - -<p>They are a proud race, these good people of -Aps, and kindly withal, but vivid in their impressions -and most exaggerated in their language, of -which Aunt Portal, a true type of the local citizenry, -gave a very fair idea.</p> - -<p>Immensely fat, apoplectic, her blood rushing to -her pendulous cheeks purple like the lees of wine -in fine contrast with her pale complexion, the skin -of a former blonde. So far as one saw it the throat -was very white, and her neat handsome iron-gray -curls showed from beneath a cap decorated with -lilac ribbon. Her bodice was hooked awry, but -she was imposing nevertheless, having a majestic -air and a pleasant smile and manner. It was thus -that she appeared in the half-light of her drawing-room, -always kept hermetically sealed after the -Southern custom. You would say she looked like -an old family portrait, or one of Mirabeau’s old -marquises, and very appropriate to her old house, -built a hundred years ago by Gonzague Portal, -chief councillor of the Parliament of Aix.</p> - -<p>It is not uncommon to find people and houses -in Provence that seem as if they belong to olden -times, as if the last century, while passing out -through those high panelled doors, had let a bit of -her gown full of furbelows stick in the crack of the -door.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span></p> - -<p>But if in conversing with Aunt Portal you should -be so unlucky as to hint that Protestants are as -good as Catholics, or that Henry V may not -ascend the throne at any moment, the old portrait -will spring headlong out of its frame, and with the -veins on its neck swelling and the hands tearing -at the neatly hanging curls, will fly into an ungovernable -passion, swear, threaten and curse! -These outbursts have passed into tradition in the -town and many wonderful tales are told upon the -subject. At an evening party in her house a -servant let fall a tray of wineglasses; Aunt Portal -fell into one of her fits of rage, shouting and exciting -herself with cries, reproaches and lamentations; -finally her voice failed, and almost choking in her -frenzy, unable to beat the unlucky servant, who -had promptly fled, she raised the skirt of her dress -and wrapped it about her head and face to conceal -her groans and her visage disfigured by rage, -quite regardless of the voluminous display of a -portly, white-fleshed lady to which she was treating -her guests.</p> - -<p>In any other part of the country she would have -been considered mad, but in Aps, the land of hot -brains and explosive natures, they were satisfied -to say that she “rode a high horse.” It is true -that passers-by on the quiet square before her -doors on restful afternoons, when the cloistral -stillness of the town is only broken by the chirping -of the locusts or a few notes on a piano, are -wont to hear such words as “monster,” “thief,” -“assassin,” “stealers of priests’ property,” “I’ll<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span> -cut your arm off,” “I’ll rip the skin off your -stomach!” Then doors would slam and stairways -tremble beneath the vaults of whitewashed stone; -windows would open noisily, as though the mutilated -bodies of the unhappy servants were to be -thrown from them! But nothing happens; the -servants placidly continue their work, accustomed -to these tempests, knowing perfectly that they are -mere habits of speech.</p> - -<p>An excellent person, all things considered, -ardent, generous, with a great desire to please -and to sacrifice herself—a noble trait in these -impulsive people, and one by which Numa had -profited. Since he had been chosen deputy the -house on the Place Cavalerie belonged to him, his -aunt only reserving the right to remain there the -rest of her life. And then, what a delight it was -to her when the party from Paris arrived, with the -receptions, the visits, the morning music and the -serenades which the presence of the great man -brought into that lonely life of hers, eager for -excitement! Besides, she adored her niece Rosalie, -partly because they were so entirely the opposite -of each other and also because of the respect -she felt for the daughter of the chief magistrate -of France.</p> - -<p>It really needed a world of patience on Rosalie’s -part and all the love of family inculcated in her by -her parents to endure for two whole months the -whims and tiresome caprices of this disordered -imagination, always over-excited and as restless in -mind as she was indolent in her big body. Seated<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span> -in the large vestibule, as cool as a Moorish court, but -yet close and musty from the exclusion of air and -sunshine, Rosalie, holding a bit of embroidery in -her hands—for like a true Parisian she never could -be idle—was obliged to listen for hours at a time to -her surprising confidences. The enormous lady sat -before her in an arm-chair, with her hands free in -order to gesticulate, and recapitulated breathlessly -the chronicles of the whole town. She sometimes -depicted her maid-servants and coachman as monsters, -sometimes as angels, according to the caprice -of the moment. She would select some one against -whom she apparently had some grudge, and cover -the detested one with the foulest, bloodiest, most -venomous abuse, relating stories like those in the -<i>Annals of the Propagation of the Faith</i>. Rosalie, -who had lived with Numa, had luckily become -accustomed to these frantic objurgations. She listened -abstractedly; for the most part they passed -in at one ear and out at the other; hardly did she -stop to wonder how it came about that she, so -reserved and discreet, could ever have entered -such a family of theatrical persons who draped -themselves with phrases and overflowed with gestures. -It had to be a very strong bit of gossip to -make her hold up Aunt Portal with an “Oh, my -dear aunt!” thrown out with a far-away air.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps you are right, my dear, perhaps I do -exaggerate a little.”</p> - -<p>But Aunt Portal’s tumultuous imagination was -soon off again, recounting some comic or tragic -tale with so much mimicry and dramatic effect<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span> -that she gave one the impression of wearing alternately -the two masks borne by ancient actors of -tragedy and of comedy. She only calmed down -when she described her one visit to Paris and related -the wonders of the arrival in the “Passage -Somon,” where she had stopped at a small hotel -patronized by all the travelling salesmen of her -native province, where they “took the air” in a -glass-covered passage as stuffy and hot as a melon-frame. -Of all her remarkable stories of Paris this -place was the central point from which everything -else evolved—it was the elegant, fashionable spot -beyond all others.</p> - -<p>These tiresome, empty tirades had at least the -spice of being uttered in the strangest and most -amusing kind of language, in which an old-school -stilted French, the French of books of rhetoric, -was mixed with the oddest provincialisms. Aunt -Portal detested the Provençal tongue, that dialect -so admirable in color and sonorousness, which only -the peasants and people talk, which contains an -echo of Latin vibrating across the deep blue sea. -She belonged to the burgher class of Provence -who translate <i>pécaïré</i> by <i>péchère</i> (sinner) and fancy -they talk correctly.</p> - -<p>When her coachman Ménicle (Dominick) in his -frank way said to her in Provençal:</p> - -<p>“<i>Voù baia de civado au chivaou</i>” (I am going -to give the horses oats)—she would assume an -austere air and say:</p> - -<p>“I do not understand you—speak French, my -good fellow!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span></p> - -<p>Then Ménicle, like a docile schoolboy, would -say:</p> - -<p>“<i>Je vais bayer dé civade au chivau.</i>”</p> - -<p>“That is right, now I understand you!”—and he -would go away thinking that he had been speaking -the language. It is a fact that most of the people -in the South below Valence only know this hybrid -kind of French.</p> - -<p>But besides all this Aunt Portal played upon -her words by no means according to her fancy but -in accordance with the rules of some local grammar. -Thus she said <i>déligence</i> for <i>diligence</i>, <i>achéter</i> -for <i>acheter</i>, <i>anédote</i> for <i>anecdote</i>, <i>régitre</i> for <i>régistre</i>. -She called a pillow-slip (<i>taie d’oreiller</i>) a <i>coussinière</i>, -an umbrella was an <i>ombrette</i>, the foot-warmer -which she used at all seasons of the year -was a <i>banquette</i>. She did not cry, she “fell to -tears;” and though very “overweighted” she -never took more than “half hour” for her round of -the city. All this twaddle was larded with those -little words and expressions without precise meaning -which Provençals scatter through their speech, -those verbal snips which they stuff between sentences -to lessen their stress or increase their -strength, or keep up the multifold character of -the accent, such as</p> - -<p>“<i>Aie, ouie, avai, açavai, au moins, pas moins, -différemment, allons!</i>”</p> - -<p>This contempt of Mme. Portal for the language -of her province extended to its usages and its traditions -and even to its costume. Just as she did -not permit her coachman to lapse into Provençal,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span> -in the same way she never would have allowed a -servant to enter her house wearing the head-dress -and neck-kerchief of Arles.</p> - -<p>“My house is neither a <i>mas</i> (farm) nor a -weaver’s loft,” said she. Nor would she let them -wear a <i>chapo</i> either. To wear a bonnet is the -distinctive hieratic sign of the ascendancy of the -citizen in the provinces. The title of “madame” -is one of its attributes, a title refused to any of the -baser sort. It is amusing to see the condescension -of the wife of a retired officer or municipal employee -who earns eight hundred francs a year, -doing her own marketing in an enormous bonnet, -when she speaks to the wife of an immensely rich -farmer from the Crau, in her picturesque headgear -trimmed with real old thread lace. In the -Portal mansion the ladies had worn bonnets for -over a century. This made Mme. Portal very -arrogant toward poor people and was the cause -of a terrible scene between her and Roumestan a -few days after the festival in the amphitheatre.</p> - -<p>It was a Friday morning at breakfast, a regular -Provençal breakfast, pretty and attractive to the -eye although strictly a fast-day meal, for Aunt -Portal was very keen about her orders. On the -white cloth in picturesque array were big green -peppers, alternating with blood-red figs, almonds -and carved water-melons, that looked like big rose-colored -magnolias, anchovy patties and little white -rolls such as are to be found nowhere else—all -very light dishes set among decanters of fresh -water and bottles of light home-made wine. Outside<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span> -in the sun the locusts and rays were chirping -and glittering, and a broad band of golden light -slid through a crevice into the great dining-room, -vaulted and resounding like the refectory of a -convent.</p> - -<p>In the middle of the table on a chafing dish -were two large cutlets designed for Numa. Notwithstanding -that his name was uttered in all the -prayers, perhaps because of it, the great man of -Aps, alone of all the family, had obtained a dispensation -from fasting from the cardinal. So there -he sat feasting and carving his juicy cutlets, while -his aunt and his wife and sister-in-law breakfasted -on figs and watermelon.</p> - -<p>Rosalie was used to it. The two days’ fast every -week was but a part of her yearly burden, as much -a matter of course as the sunshine, the dust, the -hot mistral wind, the mosquitoes, her aunt’s gossip -and the Sunday services at the church of St. Perpétue. -But the youthful appetite of Hortense -revolted against this continual fasting and it took -all the gentle authority of the elder sister to prevent -an outburst from the spoiled child, which -would have shocked all Aunt Portal’s ideas of the -conduct becoming to a young person of refinement -and education. So Hortense had to content herself -with her husks, revenging herself by making -the most awful grimaces, rolling up her eyes, snuffing -up the smell of the cutlets and murmuring -under her breath for Rosalie’s benefit alone:</p> - -<p>“It always happens so. I took a long ride this -morning. I am as hungry as a tramp!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span></p> - -<p>She still wore her habit, which was as becoming -to her tall, slim figure as was the straight, high -collar to her irregular saucy little face, still flushed -by her exercise in the open air. Her ride had -given her an idea.</p> - -<p>“Oh Numa, how about Valmajour? When are -we going to see him?”</p> - -<p>“Who is Valmajour?” answered Numa, whose -fickle brain had already discarded all memory of -the taborist. “<i>Té</i>, that’s a fact, Valmajour! I had -forgotten all about him. What a genius he is!”</p> - -<p>It all came back to him—the arches of the amphitheatre -echoing to the farandole with the dull -vibration of the tabor; it fired his memory and so -excited him that he called out decisively:</p> - -<p>“Aunt Portal, do lend us the landau; we will -set off directly after breakfast.”</p> - -<p>His aunt’s brow darkened above her big eyes, -flaming like those of a Japanese idol.</p> - -<p>“The landau? <i>Avai!</i> What for? At least -you’re not going to take your wife and sister to -see that player of the <i>tutu-panpan!</i>”</p> - -<p>This word “tutu-panpan” so perfectly mimicked -the sound of the fife and tabor that Roumestan -burst out laughing, but Hortense took up the -defence of the old Provençal tabor with much -earnestness. Nothing that she had seen in the -South had impressed her so much. Besides, it -would not be honest to break one’s word to the -nice boy.</p> - -<p>“He is a great artist! Numa, you said so -yourself.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span></p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, little sister, you are right; we must -certainly go.”</p> - -<p>Aunt Portal in a towering rage said that she -could not understand how a man like her nephew, -a deputy, could put himself out for peasants, farmers, -whose people from father to son had made -music for the villages. Then, in her usual spirit -of mimicry, she stuck out a disdainful lip and -played with the fingers of one hand on an imaginary -fife, while with the other she beat upon the -table to represent the tabor, taking off the tabor-player’s -gestures.</p> - -<p>“Nice people to take ladies to see! No one but -Numa would dream of doing such a thing. Calling -on the Valmajours! Holy mother of angels!” -And becoming more and more excited, she accused -them of crimes enough to make them out a brood -of monsters as bloody and dreadful as the Trestaillon -family, when suddenly across the table she -caught the eye of her butler Ménicle, who came -from the same village as the Valmajours and was -listening to her lies, every feature strained in -astonishment. At once she shouted to him in a -terrible voice to “go and change himself quickly” -and have the landau at the door at “two o’clock -a quarter off.” All the rages of Aunt Portal ended -in this fashion.</p> - -<p>Hortense threw down her napkin and ran and -kissed the old lady rapturously on her fat cheeks. -She was in a tumult of gayety and bounded for -joy:</p> - -<p>“Come, Rosalie, let us hurry!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span></p> - -<p>Aunt Portal looked at her niece:</p> - -<p>“Well, I hope, Rosalie, that you are not going -to vagabondize with these feather-heads!”</p> - -<p>“No, no, aunt, I will stay with you” answered -Rosalie, amused at the character of elderly relative -that her unvarying amiability and resignation had -created for her in that house.</p> - -<p>At the right moment the carriage came promptly -to the door, but they sent it on ahead, telling Ménicle -to wait for them at the amphitheatre square, and -Roumestan set out on foot with his little sister on -his arm, full of curiosity and pride at seeing Aps -in his company, to visit the house in which he was -born and to retrace with him the streets through -which he had so often walked when a child.</p> - -<p>It was the hour of the midday rest. The whole -town slept, silent and deserted, rocked by the south -wind blowing in great fanlike gusts, cooling and -freshening the fierce Provençal summer heat, but -making walking difficult, especially along the -Corso, which offered no resistance to it, where it -roared round the little city with the bellowings -of a loosened bull. Hortense, with her head down, -her hands tightly clasped about her brother’s arm, -out of breath and bewildered, enjoyed the sensation -of being raised and borne along by the gusts -which were like resistless waves, noisy and complaining, -white with foamlike dust. Sometimes -they had to stop and cling to the ropes stretched -along the ramparts for use on windy days. Owing -to the whirlwinds in which bits of bark and plane-tree -seeds spun round, and owing to its solitude<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span> -the Corso had an air of distress in its wide desolation, -still soiled as it was with the remains of the -recent market, strewn with melon-rinds, straw litters, -empty casks, as if the mistral alone had charge of -the street cleaning.</p> - -<p>Roumestan was anxious to reach the carriage as -soon as possible, but Hortense enjoyed this battle -with the hurricane and insisted on walking farther, -panting and overborne by the gust that curled her -blue veil three times around her hat and molded -her short walking skirt against her figure as she -walked. She was saying:</p> - -<p>“It is queer how different people are! Rosalie, -now, hates the wind. She says it blows away all -her ideas, keeps her from thinking. Now me the -wind excites, intoxicates!”</p> - -<p>“So it does me!” said Numa, clinging on to his -hat, his eyes full of water, and then suddenly, as -they turned a corner:</p> - -<p>“Ah, here is my street—I was born here.”</p> - -<p>The wind was going down, at least they felt it -less; it was blowing farther away with a sound as -of billows breaking on a beach, as one hears them -from the quiet inner bay. The street was a largish -one, paved with pointed stones, without sidewalks, -and the house an insignificant little gray structure -standing between an Ursuline convent shaded with -big plane-trees and a fine old seignorial mansion -on which was carved a coat of arms and the inscription -“Hôtel de Rochemaure.” Opposite stood -a very old and characterless building with broken -columns, defaced statues and grave-stones with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span> -Roman inscriptions carved on them; it had the -word “Academy” in faded gilt letters over a -green door.</p> - -<p>In that little gray house the great orator first -saw the light on the 15th of July, 1832; it was -easy to draw more than one parallel between his -narrow, classical talent and his education as a -Catholic and a Legitimist, and that little house of -needy citizens with a convent on one side and a -seignorial residence on the other, and a provincial -academy in front of it.</p> - -<p>Roumestan was filled with emotion, as he always -was over anything concerning himself. He had -not visited this spot for perhaps thirty years; it -needed the whim of this young girl to bring him -here. He was much struck with the immutability -of things. He recognized in the wall a shutter-catch -that his childish hand had turned and played -with every morning as he passed on his way up -the street. The columns and precious torsos of -the academy threw their shadows on the same spot -as of old. The rose-laurel bushes had the same -spicy odor and he showed Hortense the narrow -window where his mother had sat and signed -to him to hurry when he came from the friars’ -school:</p> - -<p>“Come up quickly, father has come in!” His -father did not like to be kept waiting.</p> - -<p>“Tell me, Numa, is it really true? were you -really educated by the friars?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, little sister, until I was twelve years old, -and then Aunt Portal sent me to the Assumption,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span> -the most fashionable boarding-school in the town; -but it was the Ignorantins over there in that big -barrack with yellow shutters who taught me to -read.”</p> - -<p>As he called to mind the pail of brine under the -Brother’s chair in which were soaked the straps -with which they beat the boys, to make the pain -greater, he shuddered; he remembered the large -paved class-room where they were made to say -their lessons on their knees and had to crawl up -holding out their hands to be punished on the -slightest pretext; he recalled how the Brother in -his shabby black gown stood stiff and rigid, with -his habit rolled up beneath his arm, the better to -strike his pitiless blows—Brother Crust-to-cook, -as he was called, because he was the cook. He -remembered how the dear Brother cried “ha!” -and how his little inky fingers tingled with the pain -as if ants were biting them. As Hortense cried -aloud in dismay at the brutality of such punishments, -he related others still more dreadful; for -example, they were obliged to clean the freshly -watered pavements with their tongues, the dust -and water making a muddy substance that injured -the tender palates of the naughty children.</p> - -<p>“It is shameful! and you defend such people -and speak in their favor in the Chamber?”</p> - -<p>“Ah, my dear, that is politics!” said Roumestan -calmly.</p> - -<p>As they talked they were threading a labyrinth -of small, dingy streets, almost oriental in their character, -where old women lay asleep on their doorsteps,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span> -and other streets, though not so sombre, -where long pieces of printed calicoes fluttered in -explanation of signboards on which were painted: -“Haberdashery,” “Shoes,” “Silks.”</p> - -<p>Thence they came out on what was called in -Aps the “Little Square,” with its asphalt melting -in the hot sun and surrounded by shops, at this -hour closed and silent, in the narrow shadow of -whose walls boot-blacks slept peacefully, their -heads resting on their boxes, their limbs stretched -out like those of drowned people, wrecks of the -tempest that has just swept over the town. An -unfinished monument occupied the centre of the -little square. Hortense wished to know what was -ultimately to be the statue placed upon it and -Roumestan smiled in an embarrassed way.</p> - -<p>“It is a long story!” he answered, hurrying on.</p> - -<p>The town of Aps had voted a statue to Numa, -but the Liberals of the “Vanguard” had strongly -disapproved of this apotheosis of a living man and -so his friends had not dared to go on with it. The -statue was all ready, but now probably they would -wait for his death before raising it. Surely it’s a -glorious thought that after your funeral you will -have civic recognition and that you die only to -rise again in bronze or marble; but this empty -pedestal shining in the sun seemed to Roumestan, -whenever he passed it, as gloomy as a majestic -family vault; it was not until they had reached -the amphitheatre that he could dispel his funereal -thoughts.</p> - -<p>The old structure, divested of its Sunday cheerfulness<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span> -and returned to its solemnity of a great and -useless ruin, seemed damp and cheerless as it -loomed darkly against the rays of the setting sun, -with its dark corridors and floors caved in here and -there and stones crumbling beneath the footsteps -of the centuries.</p> - -<p>“How dreadfully sad it is!” said Hortense, regretting -the music of Valmajour’s fife; but to -Numa it did not seem sad. His happiest days had -been passed there—his childish days with all their -pleasures and longings. Oh, the Sundays at the -bull-fights, prowling around the gates with other -poor children who lacked ten sous to pay for their -tickets! In the hot afternoon sun they crawled -into some corner where a glimpse of the arena -could be obtained. What pleasures of forbidden -fruits!—the red-stockinged legs of the bull-fighters, -the wrathful hoofs of the bull, the dust of the combat -rising from the arena amid the cries of “Bravo!” -and the bellowings and the roar of the multitude! -The yearning to get inside was not to be resisted. -While the sentinel’s back was turned the bravest -of them would wriggle through the iron bars with -a little effort.</p> - -<p>“I always got through!” said Roumestan in -ecstasy. The history of his whole life was expressed -in those few words. By chance or by -cleverness—no matter how close were the bars—the -Southerner always wriggled through.</p> - -<p>“I was thinner in those days, all the same,” he -said with a sigh and he looked with comic regret -at the narrow bars of the grille and then at his big<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span> -white waistcoat, within which lay the solid sign of -his forty years.</p> - -<p>Behind the enormous amphitheatre they found -the carriage, safely harbored from wind and -sun. They had to wake up Ménicle, who was -sleeping peacefully on the box between two large -baskets of provisions, wrapped in his heavy cloak -of royal blue. But before getting in Numa pointed -out to Hortense an old inn at a distance whose sign -read: “To the Little St. John, coach and express -office,” the whitewashed front and large open sheds -of which took up one whole corner of the square. -In these sheds were ancient stage-coaches and -rural chaises long unused, covered with dust, -their shafts raised high in air from beneath their -gray covers.</p> - -<p>“Look there, little sister,” he cried with emotion. -“It was from this spot that I set out for Paris one-and-twenty -years ago. There was no railway then; -we went by coach as far as Montélimar, then up -the Rhône. Heavens, how happy I was! and how -your big Paris frightened me! It was evening—I -remember it so well....”</p> - -<p>He spoke quickly, reminiscences crowding each -other in his mind.</p> - -<p>“The evening, ten o’clock, in November, beautiful -moonlight. The guard’s name was Fouque, a -great person! While he was harnessing we walked -about with Bompard—yes, Bompard—you know -we were already great friends. He was, or thought -he was, studying for a druggist and meant to join -me in Paris. We made many plans for living<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span> -together and helping each other along in the world -to get ahead quicker—in the meantime he encouraged -me, gave me good advice—he was -older than I. My great bugbear was the fear of -being ridiculous—Aunt Portal had ordered for -me a travelling wrap called a Raglan; I was a -little dubious about that Raglan, so Bompard made -me put it on and walk before him in it. <i>Té!</i> I -can see yet my shadow beside me as I walked, and -gravely, with that knowing air he has, he said: -‘That is all right, old boy; you don’t look ridiculous.’—Ah, -youth, youth!”</p> - -<p>Hortense, who was beginning to fear that they -should never get away from this town where every -stone was eloquent of reminiscences for the great -man, led the way gently towards the carriage.</p> - -<p>“Let us get in, Numa. We can talk just as well -as we drive along.”</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.<br> - -<span class="smaller">VALMAJOUR.</span></h2> -</div> - - - -<p class="chapfirst">It takes hardly more than two hours to drive -from Aps to Cordova Mountain provided the wind -is astern. Drawn by the two old horses from -the Camargue, the carriage went almost by itself, -propelled by the mistral which shook and rattled -it, beating on its leather hood and curtains or -blowing them out like sails.</p> - -<p>Out here it did not bellow any more as it did -round the ramparts and through the vaulted passages -of the town; but, free of all obstacles, driving -before it the great plain itself, where a solitary -farm and some peasant manses here and there, -forming gray spots in the green landscape, seemed -the scattering of a village by the storm, the wind -passed in the form of smoke before the sky, and -like sudden dashes of surf over the tall wheat and -olive orchards, whose silvery leaves it made to -flutter like a swarm of butterflies. Then with sudden -rebounds that raised in blond masses the dust -that crackled under the wheels it fell upon the -files of closely pressed cypresses and the Spanish -reeds with their long rustling leaves, which made -one feel that there was a river flowing beside the -road. When for one moment it stopped, as if<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span> -short of breath, one felt all the weight of summer; -then a truly African heat rose from the earth, -which was soon driven off by the wholesome, revivifying -hurricane, extending its jovial dance to the -very farthest point on the horizon, to those little -dull, grayish mounds which are seen on the horizon -in all Provençal landscapes, but which the sunset -turns to iridescent tints of fairyland.</p> - -<p>They did not meet many people. An occasional -huge wagon from the quarries filled with hewn -stones, blinding in the sunlight; an old peasant -woman from Ville-des-Baux bending under a great -<i>couffin</i> or basket of sweet-smelling herbs; the robe -of a mendicant friar with a sack on his back and a -rosary round his waist, his hard, tonsured head -sweating and shining like a Durance pebble; or -else a group of people returning from a pilgrimage, -a wagon-load of women and girls in holiday attire, -with fine black eyes, big chignons and bright-colored -ribbons, coming from Sainte Baume or -Notre-Dame-de-Lumière. Well, the mistral gave -to all these people, to hard labor, to wretchedness -and to superstition the same flow of health and -good spirits, gathering up and scattering again -during its rushes the hymn of the monk, the -shrill canticles of the pilgrims, the bells and jingling -blue glass beads of the horses and the “<i>Dia! -hue!</i>” of the carters, as well as the popular refrain -that Numa, intoxicated by the breeze of his native -land, poured forth with all the power of his lungs -and with wide gesticulations that were waved from -both the carriage doors at once:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“<i>Beau soleil de la Provence,</i></div> - <div class="verse indent0"><i>Gai compère du mistral!</i>”</div> - <div class="verse indent0">(Splendid sun of old Provence,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of the mistral comrade gay!)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Suddenly he cried to the coachman: “Here! -Ménicle, Ménicle!”</p> - -<p>“Monsieur Numa?”</p> - -<p>“What is that stone building on the other side -of the Rhône?”</p> - -<p>“That, Monsieur Numa, is the <i>jonjon</i> of Queen -Jeanne.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, that’s so—I remember; poor <i>jonjon!</i> -Its name is as much of a ruin as the tower -itself!”</p> - -<p>And then he told Hortense the story of the -royal dungeon, for he was thoroughly grounded in -his native legends.</p> - -<p>That ruined and rusty tower up there dated -from the time of the Saracen invasion, although -more modern than the ruin of the abbey near it, a -bit of whose half crumbled wall still remained -standing near at hand, with its row of narrow windows -showing against the sky and its big ogival -doorway. He showed her, against the rocky slope, -a worn pathway leading to a pond that shone like -a cup of crystal, where the monks used to go to -fish for eels and carp for the table of the abbot. -As they looked at the lovely spot Numa remarked -that the men of God had always known how to -select the choicest spots in which to pass their comfortable, -restful lives, generally choosing the summits -where they might soar and dream, but whence<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span> -they descended upon the quiet valleys and levied -their toll on all the good things from the surrounding -villages.</p> - -<p>Oh, Provence in the Middle Ages! land of the -troubadours and courts of beauty!</p> - -<p>Now briers dislocate the stones of the terraces -erstwhile swept by the trains of courtly beauties—Stephenettes -or Azalaïses—while ospreys and -owls scream at night in the place where the dead -and gone troubadours used to sing! But was -there not still a perfume of delicate beauty, a -charming Italian coquetry pervading this landscape -of the Alpilles, like the quiver of a lute or viol -floating through the pure, still air?</p> - -<p>Numa grew excited, forgetting that he had only -his sister-in-law and old Ménicle’s blue cloak for -audience, and, after a few commonplaces fit for -local banquets and meetings of the Academy, -broke forth into one of those ingenious and brilliant -impromptus that proved him to be indeed the -descendant of the light Provençal troubadours.</p> - -<p>“There is Valmajour!” said Ménicle all at once, -pointing upwards with his whip as he leaned round -on the box.</p> - -<p>They had left the highroad and were climbing a -zigzag path up the side of Cordova Mountain, -narrow and slippery with the lavender whose fragrance -filled the air with a smell of burnt incense -as the carriage wheels passed. On a plateau half -way up, at the foot of a black, dilapidated tower, -the roofs of the farmstead could be seen. Here it -was that for years and years the Valmajours had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span> -lived, from father to son, on the site of the old -château whose name abided with them. And who -knows? perhaps these peasants really were the -descendants of the princes of Valmajour, related -to the counts of Provence and to the house of -Baux. This idea, imprudently expressed by Roumestan, -was eagerly taken up by Hortense, who -thus accounted to herself for the really high-bred -manners of the taborist.</p> - -<p>As they conversed in the carriage on the subject -Ménicle listened to their talk in amazement from -his box. The name of Valmajour was common -enough in the province; there were mountain Valmajours -and Valmajours of the valley, according -as they dwelt on upland or on plain. “So they -are all noblemen!” he wondered. But the astute -Provençal kept his thoughts on the subject to -himself.</p> - -<p>As they advanced further into this desolate but -beautiful landscape the imagination of the young -girl, excited by Numa’s animated conversation, gave -free vent to its romantic impressions, stimulated -by the brightly-colored fantasies of the past; and -looking upward and seeing a peasant woman sitting -on a buttress of the ruined tower, watching -the approach of the strangers, her face in profile, -her hand shading her eyes from the sun, she -imagined she saw some princess wearing the -mediæval wimple gazing down upon them from -her feudal tower—like an illustration in an old -book.</p> - -<p>The illusion was hardly dispelled when, on leaving<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span> -the carriage, they saw before them the sister of -the taborist, who was making willow screens for -silk worms. She did not rise, although Ménicle -had shouted to her from a distance: “<i>Vé!</i> Audiberte, -here are visitors for your brother!” Her -face with its delicate, regular features, long and -green as an unripe olive, expressed neither pleasure -nor surprise, but kept the concentrated look -that brought the heavy black eyebrows together in -front and seemed to tie a knot below her obstinate -brows, as if with a hard, fixed line. Numa, somewhat -taken aback by this frigid reception, said -hastily: “I am Numa Roumestan, the deputy—”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I know who you are well enough,” she -answered gravely, and throwing down her work in -a heap by her side: “Come in a moment, my -brother will be here presently.”</p> - -<p>When she stood up their hostess lost her imposing -appearance; short of stature, with a large bust, -she walked with an ungraceful waddle that spoiled -the effect of her pretty head charmingly set off by -the little Arles head-dress and the picturesque fichu -of white muslin with its bluish shadow in every -fold which she wore over her shoulders. She led -her guests into the house. This peasant’s cottage, -leaning up against its ruined tower, seemed to -have imbibed a distinguished air, with its coat-of-arms -in stone over a door shaded by an awning of -reeds cracked by the heat of the sun and its big -curtain of checked muslin stretched across the -door to keep out the mosquitoes. The old guard-room, -with its ceiling riddled by cracks, its tall,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span> -ancient chimneypiece and its white walls, was -lighted only by small green-glass windows and the -curtain stretched across the door.</p> - -<p>In the dim light could be seen the black wooden -kneading-trough, shaped like a sarcophagus, carved -with designs of wheat and flowers; over it hung -the open-work wicker bread-basket, ornamented -with little Moorish bells, in which the bread is kept -fresh in Provençal farm-houses. Two or three -sacred images, the Virgin, Saint Martha and the -<i>tarasque</i>, a small red copper lamp of antique form -hanging from the beak of a mocking-bird carved -in white wood by one of the shepherds, and on -each side of the fireplace the salt and the flour -boxes, completed the furniture of the big room, -not forgetting a large sea-shell, with which they -called the cattle home, glittering on the mantelpiece -above the hearth.</p> - -<p>A long table ran lengthwise through the hall, -on each side of which were benches and stools. -From the ceiling hung strings of onions black with -flies, that buzzed loudly whenever the door curtain -was raised.</p> - -<p>“Take a seat, sir—a seat, madame; you must -share the <i>grand boire</i> with us.”</p> - -<p>The <i>grand boire</i> or “big drink” is the lunch partaken -of wherever the peasants are working—out -in the fields, under the trees, in the shade of a mill, -or in a roadside ditch. But the Valmajours took -theirs in the house, as they were at work near by. -The table was already laid with little yellow -earthen dishes in which were pickled olives and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span> -romaine salad shining with oil. In the willow -stand where the bottles and glasses are kept Numa -thought he saw some wine.</p> - -<p>“So you still have vineyards up here?” he asked -smilingly, trying to ingratiate himself with this -queer little savage. But at the word “vineyards” -she sprang to her feet like a goat bitten by an asp, -and in a moment her voice struck the full note of -indignation. Vines! oh, yes! nice luck they had -had with their vineyards! Out of five only one -was left to them—the smallest one, too, and that -they had to keep under water half the year,—water -from the <i>roubine</i> at that, costing them their -last sou! And all that—who was to blame for it? -the Reds, those swine, those monsters, the Reds -and their godless republic, that had let loose all -the devils of hell upon the country!</p> - -<p>As she spoke in this passionate manner her eyes -grew blacker with the murky look of an assassin; -her pretty face was all convulsed and disfigured, -her mouth was distorted and her black eyebrows -made with their knot a big lump in the middle of -her brow. The strangest of all was that in spite -of her fury she continued her peaceful avocations, -making the coffee, blowing the fire, coming and -going, gesticulating with whatever was in her -hand, the bellows or the coffee-pot, or a blazing -brand of vine-wood from the fire, which she brandished -like the torch of a Fury. Suddenly she -calmed down.</p> - -<p>“Here is my brother,” she said.</p> - -<p>The rustic curtain, brushed aside, let in a flood of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span> -white sunlight against which appeared the tall form -of Valmajour, followed by a little old man with a -smooth face, sunburned until it was as black and -gnarled as the root of a diseased vine. Neither -father nor son showed any more excitement at the -sight of the visitors than Audiberte.</p> - -<p>The first greeting over, they seated themselves -at the table, on which had been spread the contents -of the two baskets that Roumestan had -brought in the carriage, at sight of which the eyes -of old Valmajour shone with little joyous sparkles. -Roumestan, who could not recover from the want -of enthusiasm about himself shown by these peasants, -began at once to speak of the great success -on the Sunday at the amphitheatre. That must -have made him proud of his son!</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes,” mumbled the old man, spearing his -olives with his knife. “But I too in my time used -to get prizes myself for my tabor-playing”—and -he smiled the same wicked smile that had played -on his daughter’s lips in her recent gust of temper. -Very peaceful just now, Audiberte sat upon the -hearthstone with her plate upon her knees; for, -although she was the mistress of the house and a -very tyrannical one at that, she still obeyed the ancient -Provençal custom that did not allow the -women to sit at the table and eat with their men. -But from that humble spot she listened attentively -all the while to what they were saying and shook -her head when they spoke of the festival at the -amphitheatre. She did not care for the tabor, herself—<i>nani!</i> -no indeed! Her mother had been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span> -killed by the bad blood her father’s love for it had -occasioned. It was a profession, look you, fit for -drunkards; it kept people from profitable work -and cost more money than it made.</p> - -<p>“Well then, let him come to Paris,” said Roumestan. -“Take my word for it, his tabor will coin -money for him there....”</p> - -<p>Spurred on by the utter incredulity of the country -girl, he tried to make her understand how capricious -Paris was and how the city would pay -almost anything to gratify its whims. He told her -of the success of old Mathurin, who used to play -the bagpipes at the “Closerie des Genets,” and -how inferior were the Breton bagpipes, coarse and -shrieking, fit only for Esquimaux in the Polar Circle -to dance to, when compared with the tabor of -Provence, so pretty, so delicate and high-bred! -He could tell them that all the Parisian women -would go wild over it and all wish to dance the -<i>farandole</i>. Hortense also grew excited and put in -her oar, while the taborist smiled vaguely and -twirled his brown moustache with the fatuous air -of a lady-killer.</p> - -<p>“Well now, come! Give me an idea what he -would earn by his music!” cried the peasant girl. -Roumestan thought a moment. He could not say -precisely. One hundred and fifty to two hundred -<span class="lock">francs—</span></p> - -<p>“A month?” quoth the old man excitedly.</p> - -<p>“Heavens! no—a day!”</p> - -<p>The three peasants started and then looked at -each other. From any one else but M. Numa<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span> -the deputy, member of the General Council, they -would have suspected a joke, a <i>galéjade!</i> But -with him of course the matter was serious. Two -hundred francs a day—<i>foutré!</i> The musician -himself wished to go at once, but his more prudent -sister would have liked to draw up a paper for -Roumestan to sign; and then quietly, with lowered -eyelids, that the money greed in her eyes might -not be seen, she began to canvass the matter in -her hypocritical voice.</p> - -<p>Valmajour was so much needed at home, <i>pécaïré!</i> -He took care of the property, ploughed, -dressed the vines, his father being too old now for -such work. What should they do if her brother -went away? And he—he would be sure to be -homesick alone in Paris, and his money, his two -hundred francs a day, who would take care of it in -that awful great city? And her voice hardened -as she spoke of money that she could not take -care of and stow carefully away in her most secret -drawer.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Roumestan, “come to Paris with -him.”</p> - -<p>“And the house?”</p> - -<p>“Leave it or sell it. You can buy a much better -one when you come back.”</p> - -<p>He hesitated as Hortense glanced warningly at -him, and, as if remorseful for disturbing the quiet -life of these simple people, he said:</p> - -<p>“After all, there is a great deal besides money -in this life. You are lucky enough as you are.”</p> - -<p>Audiberte interrupted him sharply: “Lucky?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span> -Existence is a struggle; things are not as they -used to be!”—and she began again to whine about -the vineyards, the silk-worms, the madder, the -vermilion and all the other vanished riches of the -country. Nowadays one had to work in the sun -like cart-horses. It is true that they expected to -inherit the fortune of Cousin Puyfourcat, the colonist -in Algiers, but Algeria is so far away; and -then the astute little peasant, in order to warm -Numa up, whom she reproached herself for causing -to lose some of his enthusiasm on the subject, -turned in a catty way to her brother and said in -her coaxing, singsong voice:</p> - -<p>“<i>Qué</i>, Valmajour! suppose you play something -for the pleasure of the pretty young lady.”</p> - -<p>Ah, clever girl! she was not mistaken. At the -first blow of the stick, at the first pearly notes of -the fife Roumestan was trapped once more and -went into raptures.</p> - -<p>The musician leaned against the curb of an old -well in front of the farmhouse door. Over the -well was an iron frame, round which a wild fig-tree -had wound itself and made a marvellously -picturesque background for his handsome figure -and swarthy face. With his bare arms, his dusty, -toil-worn garments, his uncovered sun-browned -breast, he looked nobler and prouder than he had -appeared when in the arena, where his natural grace -had a somewhat tawdry touch through a certain -striving after theatrical effect. The old airs that -he played on his rustic instrument, made poetic by -the solitude and silence of the mountains and waking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span> -the ancient golden ruins from their slumbers -in stone, floated like skylarks round the slopes all -gray with lavender or checkered with wheat and -dead vines and mulberry-trees with their broad -leaves casting longer but lighter shadows on the -grass at their feet. The wind had gone down. -The setting sun played upon the violet line of the -Alpilles and poured into the hollows of the rocks -a very mirage of lakes, of liquid porphyry and of -molten gold.</p> - -<p>All along the horizon there seemed as it were -a luminous vibration, like the stretched cords of a -lyre, to which the song of the crickets and the -hum of the tabor furnished the sonorous base. -Silent and delighted, Hortense, seated on the parapet -of the old tower, leaning her elbow on the -fragment of a broken column near which a pomegranate -grew, listened and admired while she let -her romantic little mind wander, filled with the -legends and stories that Roumestan had told her -on the way to the farm.</p> - -<p>She pictured to herself the old château rising -from its ruins, its towers rebuilt, its gates renewed, -its cloister-like arches peopled with lovely women -in long-bodiced gowns, with those pale, clear complexions -that the sun cannot injure. She herself -was a princess of the house of Baux with a pretty -name of some saint in a missal and the musician -who was giving her a morning greeting was also a -prince, the last of the Valmajours, dressed in the -costume of a peasant.</p> - -<p>“Of a certes, ywis, the song once finished,” as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span> -the chroniclers of the courts of love of old used -to say, she broke from the tree above her a bunch -of pomegranate blossoms and held it out to the -musician as the prize won by his playing. He -received it with gallantry and wound it round the -strings of his tabor.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.<br> - -<span class="smaller">CABINET MINISTER!</span></h2> -</div> - - - -<p class="chapfirst">Three months have passed since that expedition -to Mount Cordova.</p> - -<p>Parliament had met at Versailles in a deluge of -November rain, which brought the low cloudy -sky down to the lakes in the parks, enveloped -everything in mist and wrapped the two Chambers -in a dreary dampness and darkness; but it had -done nothing to cool the heat of political hatreds. -The opening was stormy and threatening. Train -after train filled with deputies and senators followed -and crossed each other, hissing, whistling, spluttering, -blowing defiant smoke at each other as if -animated by the same passions and intrigues -they were carrying through the torrents of rain. -During this hour in the train, discussion and loud-voiced -conversation prevail above all the tumult -of rushing wheels in the different carriages, as -violently and furiously as if they were in the -Chamber.</p> - -<p>The noisiest, the most excited of all is Roumestan. -He has already delivered himself of two -speeches since Parliament met. He addresses -committees, talks in the corridors, in the railway -station, in the café, and makes the windows tremble<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span> -in the photographer’s shop where all the Rights -assemble. Little else is seen but that restless outline -and heavy form, his big head always in -motion, the roll of his broad shoulders, so formidable -in the eyes of the Ministry, which he is -about to “down” according to all the rules, like one -of the stoutest and most supple of his native -Southern wrestlers.</p> - -<p>Ah! the blue sky, the tabors, the cicadas, all the -bright pleasures of his vacation days—how far -away they seem, how utterly dislocated and -vanished! Numa never gives them a moment’s -thought nowadays, entirely carried away as he is -by the whirl of his double life as politician and -man of the law. Like his old master Sagnier, -when he went into politics he did not renounce the -law, and every evening from six o’clock to eight his -office in the Rue Scribe is thronged with clients.</p> - -<p>It looked like a legation, this office managed -by Roumestan. The first secretary, his right-hand -man, his counsellor and friend, was a very -good legal man of business named Méjean, a -Southerner, as were all Numa’s following; but -from the Cévennes, the rocky region of the South, -which is more like Spain than Italy, where the -inhabitants have retained in their manners and -speech the prudent reserve and level-headed -common-sense of the renowned Sancho.</p> - -<p>Vigorous, robust, already a little bald, with the -sallow complexion of sedentary workers, Méjean -alone did all the work of the office, clearing away -papers, preparing speeches, trying to reconcile<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span> -facts with his friend’s sonorous phrases—some -say his future brother-in-law’s. The other secretaries, -Messieurs de Rochemaure and de Lappara, -two young graduates related to the noblest families -in the province, are only there for show, -in training for political life under Roumestan’s -guidance.</p> - -<p>Lappara, a handsome tall fellow with a neat leg, -a ruddy complexion and a blond beard, son of the -old Marquis de Lappara, chief of the Right in the -Bordeaux district, is a fair type of that Creole -South; he is a gabbler and adventurer, with a -love for duels and prodigalities (<i>escampatives</i>). -Five years of life in Paris, one hundred thousand -francs gone in “bucking the tiger” at the clubs, -paid for with his mother’s diamonds, had sufficed -to give him a good boulevard accent and a fine -crusty tone of gold on his manners.</p> - -<p>Viscount Charlexis de Rochemaure, a compatriot -of Numa, is of a very different kind. -Educated by the Fathers of the Assumption, he -had made his law studies at home under the -superintendence of his mother and an abbé; he -still retained from that early education a candid -look and the timid manners of a theological student -that contrasted vividly with his goatee in the style -of Louis XIII, the combination making him seem -at one and the same time foxy and a muff.</p> - -<p>Big Lappara tries hard to initiate this young -Tony Lumpkin into the mysteries of Parisian life. -He teaches him how to dress himself, what is <i>chic</i> -and what is not <i>chic</i>, to walk with his neck forward<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span> -and his mouth drawn down and to seat himself all -of a piece, as it were, with his legs extended in -order not to wrinkle his trousers at the knees. He -would like to shake his simple faith in men and -things, to cure him of that love of superstitions -which simply classes him among the quill-drivers.</p> - -<p>Not a bit of it! the viscount likes his work and -when he is not at the Palace or the Chamber with -Roumestan, as to-day for instance, he sits for -hours at the secretaries’ table in the office next to -the chief’s and practises engrossing. The Bordeaux -man, on the contrary, has drawn an arm-chair -up to the window, and in the twilight, with a cigar -in his mouth and his legs stretched out, lazily -watches through the falling rain and the steaming -asphalt the long procession of carriages driving up -to the doors with every whip in the air; for to-day -is Mme. Roumestan’s Thursday.</p> - -<p>What a lot of people! and still they come; more -and more carriages! Lappara, who boasts of -knowing thoroughly the liveries of the great -people in Paris, calls out the names as he recognizes -them: “Duchesse de San Donnino, Marquis -de Bellegarde—hello! the Mauconseils, too! -Now I’d like to know what that means?” and -turning towards a tall, thin person who stands by -the mantelpiece drying his worsted gloves and his -light-colored trousers, too thin for the season, -carefully turned up over his cloth shoes: “Have -you heard anything, Bompard?”</p> - -<p>“Heard anythink? Sartainly I have,” was the -answer in a broad accent.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span></p> - -<p>Bompard, Roumestan’s mameluke, has the -honorary position of a fourth secretary who does -outside business, goes to look for news and sings -his patron’s praises about the streets. This occupation -does not seem to be a lucrative one, judging -from his appearance, but that is really not Numa’s -fault. Aside from the midday meal and an occasional -half-louis, this singular kind of parasite could -never be induced to accept anything; and how he -supported existence remained as great a mystery -as ever to his best friends. To ask him if he knows -anything, to doubt the imagination of Bompard, -is to show a fine simplicity of soul!</p> - -<p>“Yes, gentlemen, and somethink vary serious.”</p> - -<p>“What is it?”</p> - -<p>“The Marshal has just been shot at.” For -one moment consternation reigns; the young men -look at each other. Then Lappara stretches himself -in his chair and asks languidly:</p> - -<p>“How about your asphalt affair, old man—how -is it getting on?”</p> - -<p>“<i>Vai!</i> the asphalt—I have something much -better than that.”</p> - -<p>Not at all surprised that his news of the -attempted assassination of the Marshal had produced -so little effect, he now proceeded to unfold to -them his new scheme. A wonderful thing, and so -simple! It was to scoop the prizes of one hundred -and twenty thousand francs that the Swiss governments -offers yearly at the Federal shooting-matches. -He had been a crack shot at larks in -his day; with a little practice he could easily get<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span> -his hand in again and secure a hundred and twenty -thousand francs annually to the end of his life. -Such an easy way to do it, <i>au moins!</i> Traversing -Switzerland by short marches, going slowly, from -canton to canton, rifle on <i>showlder</i>.</p> - -<p>The man of schemes grew warm with his subject, -climbed mountains, crossed glaciers, descended -vales and torrents and shook down -avalanches before his astonished young listeners. -Of all the imaginings of that disordered brain -this was certainly the most astonishing, delivered -with an air of perfect conviction, with a fire and -flame that, burning inwardly, covered his brow -with corrugated wrinkles.</p> - -<p>His ravings were only hushed by the breathless -arrival of Méjean, who came rushing in much -excited:</p> - -<p>“Great news!” he said throwing his bag upon -the table. “The Ministry is fallen!”</p> - -<p>“It can’t be possible!”</p> - -<p>“Roumestan takes the Ministry of Public -Instruction....”</p> - -<p>“I knew that,” said Bompard; and as they -smiled, he added: “<i>Par-fait-emain</i>, gentlemen! -I was there; I have just come from there.”</p> - -<p>“And you didn’t mention it before!”</p> - -<p>“Why should I? No one ever believes me. I -think it is my <i>agsent</i>,” he added resignedly and -with a candid air, the fun of which was lost in the -prevailing excitement.</p> - -<p>Roumestan a Cabinet Minister!</p> - -<p>“Ah, my boys, what a shifty, smart fellow the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span> -chief is!” Lappara kept saying, throwing himself -back in his chair with his legs near the ceiling. -“Hasn’t he played his cards well!”</p> - -<p>Rochemaure looked up indignant:</p> - -<p>“Don’t talk of smartness and shiftiness, my -friend; Roumestan is conscientiousness itself. -He goes straight ahead like a bullet—”</p> - -<p>“In the first place, there are no bullets nowadays, -my child—only shells; and shells do -this—” and with the tip of his boot he indicated -the curving course of a trajectory:</p> - -<p>“Scandal-monger!”</p> - -<p>“Idiot!”</p> - -<p>“Gentlemen, gentlemen!”</p> - -<p>Méjean wondered to himself over this extraordinary -man Roumestan, this complicated nature -whom even those who knew him most intimately -could judge so differently.</p> - -<p>“A shifty fellow!—conscientiousness itself!”</p> - -<p>The public judged of him in the same double -way. He who knew him thoroughly was conscious -of the shallowness and indolence that -modified his tireless ambition and made him at -the same time better and worse than his reputation. -But was it really true, this news of his Ministerial -portfolio? Anxious to know the truth, -Méjean glanced in the glass to see if he was in -proper shape, and, stepping across the hall, entered -the apartments of Mme. Roumestan.</p> - -<p>From the antechamber where the footmen waited -with their ladies’ wraps could be heard the hum of -many voices deadened by the heavy, luxurious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span> -hangings and high ceilings. Rosalie generally -received in her little drawing-room, furnished as -a winter garden with cane seats and pretty little -tables, the light just filtering in between the green -leaves of the plants that filled the windows. That -had always sufficed her in her lowly position as -a simple lady overshadowed by her husband’s -greatness, perfectly without social ambition and -passing among those who did not know her superiority -for a good-enough person of no great -importance. But to-day the two large drawing-rooms -were humming and crowded to overflowing; -new people were constantly arriving, friends -to the remotest degree, even to the slightest acquaintanceship, -people to whose faces it would -have puzzled Rosalie to attach a name.</p> - -<p>Dressed very simply in a gown of violet, most -becoming to her slender figure and the whole -harmonious personality of her being, she received -every one alike with her gentle little smile, her -manner somewhat haughty—her <i>réfréjon</i>, or “uppish” -air, as Aunt Portal had once expressed it. -Not the slightest elation at her new position—rather -a little surprise and uneasiness, but her feelings -kept well concealed!</p> - -<p>She went from group to group as the daylight -faded rapidly in the lower story of the city house -and the servants brought lamps and lighted the -candles. The rooms assumed their festal air as -at their evening receptions, the rich shining hangings -and oriental rugs and tapestries glittering -like colored stones in the light.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span></p> - -<p>“Ah, Monsieur Méjean!” and Rosalie came up -to him, glad to feel an intimate friend near her in -this crowd of strangers. They understood each -other perfectly. This Southerner who had learned -to be cool and the emotional Parisian had similar -ways of seeing and judging things, and together -they acted as counterweights to the weaknesses -and extravagances of Numa.</p> - -<p>“I came in to see if the news were true. But -there is no doubt about it,” said he, glancing at -the crowded rooms. She handed him the telegram -she had received from her husband and said -in a low voice:</p> - -<p>“What do you think of it?”</p> - -<p>“It is a great responsibility, but you will be -there.”</p> - -<p>“And you too,” she answered, pressing his -hand, and then turned away to meet other new-comers.</p> - -<p>The fact was that more people kept arriving but -no one went away. They were waiting for Roumestan; -they wished to hear all the particulars of -the affair from his own lips—how with one lift of -his shoulder he had managed to upset them all. -Some of the new arrivals who had just come -from the Chamber were already bringing with -them bits of news and scraps of conversations. -Every one crowded about them in pleasurable -excitement. The women especially were wildly -interested. Under the big hats which came into -fashion that winter their pretty cheeks flushed -with that fine rosy tint, that fever one sees in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span> -players round the tables at the gambling house -at Monte Carlo. The fashion of hats this year -was a revival of the days of the Fronde, soft felt -hats with long feathers; perhaps it was this that -made their wearers so interested in politics. But -all these ladies appeared well up in such matters; -they talked in purest parliamentary language, -emphasizing their remarks with blows from their -little muffs; all of them sang the praises of the -leader. In fact this exclamation could be heard -on every side: “What a man! what a man!”</p> - -<p>In a corner sat old Béchut, a professor at the -Collège de France, a very ugly man all nose—an -immense scientist’s nose that seemed to have -elongated itself from poking into books. He was -taking the success of Roumestan as the text for -one of his favorite theories—that all the weakness -in the modern world comes from the too prominent -place in it given to women and children. -Ignorance and toilets, caprice and brainlessness! -“You see, sir, that is where Roumestan is so -strong! He has no children and he has known -how to escape the influence of woman. So he -has followed one straight, firm path; no turning -aside, no deviation!” The solemn personage -whom he was addressing, councillor at the Court -of Cassation, a simple-looking, round-headed little -man whose ideas rattled about in his empty skull -like corn in a gourd, drew himself up approvingly -in a magisterial way, as who should say: “I also -am a superior man, sir! I also have escaped from -the influences to which you refer.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span></p> - -<p>Seeing that people were listening, the professor -spoke louder and cited the great names of history, -Cæsar, Richelieu, Frederick, Napoleon, scientifically -proving at the same time that in the scale of -thinking creatures woman was on a much lower -grade than man. “And, as a matter of fact, if we -examine the cellular tissues....”</p> - -<p>But what was much more amusing to examine was -the expression on the faces of the wives of these two -gentlemen, who were sitting side by side, all attention, -taking a cup of tea—which genial meal, with -its goodies hot from the oven, its steaming samovar -and rattle of spoons on costly china, was just -being served to the guests. The younger lady, -Mme. de Boë, had made of her gourd-headed husband, -a used-up nobleman with nothing but debts, -a magistrate in the Court of Cassation through -the influence of her family; people shuddered to -think of this spendthrift, who had quickly wasted -all his wife’s fortune and his own, having the -public moneys in his control. Mme. Béchut, a -former beauty and still beautiful, with long-lidded, -intelligent eyes and delicate features, showed only -by a contraction of her mouth that she had been at -war with the world for years and was consumed -with a tireless and unscrupulous ambition. Her -sole effort had been to push into the front rank -her very commonplace professor. By means that -unfortunately were only too well known she had -compelled the doors of the Institute and the Collège -de France to open to him. There was a -whole world of meaning in the grim smile that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span> -these two women exchanged over their teacups—and -perhaps, if one were to search carefully -among the gentlemen, there were a good many -other men in the throng who had not been exactly -injured by feminine influence.</p> - -<p>Suddenly Roumestan appeared. Disregarding -the shouts of welcome and congratulations of the -guests, he crossed the room quickly, went straight -to his wife and kissed her on both cheeks before -she could prevent this rather trying demonstration -before the public. But what could have better -disproved the assertion of the professor? All the -ladies cried “bravo!” Much hand-shaking and -embracing ensued and then an attentive silence as -Numa, leaning against the chimney-piece, began -to relate briefly the results of the day.</p> - -<p>The great blow arranged a week ago to be -struck to-day, the plots and counter-plots, the -wild rage of the Left at its defeat, his own overwhelming -triumph, his rush to the tribune, even -to the very intonation he had used to the Marshal -when he replied: “That depends on you, Mr. -President”—he told everything, forgot nothing, -with a gayety and warmth that were contagious.</p> - -<p>Then, becoming grave, he enumerated the great -responsibilities of his position; the reform of -the University with its crowd of youths to be -brought up hoping for the realization of better -things—this allusion was understood and greeted -with loud applause; but he meant to surround -himself with enlightened men, to beg for the good -will and devotion of all. With moist eyes he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span> -mustered the groups about him. “I call on you, -friend Béchut, and you, my dear De Boë—”</p> - -<p>They were all so in earnest that no one stopped -to ask in what manner the dull wits of the councillor -at the Court of Cassation could aid in the -reform of the University. But then the number -of persons of that sort whom Roumestan had -urged that afternoon to aid him in his tremendous -duties of the Public Instruction was really incalculable. -As regards the fine arts, however, he felt -more at ease, so he said; there they would not -refuse help! A flattering murmur of laughter and -exclamations stopped his further words.</p> - -<p>As to that department there was but one voice -in all Paris, even among his worst enemies—Numa -was the man for the work. Now at last there -would be a jury for art, a lyric theatre, an official -art! But the Minister cut these dithyrambics off -and remarked in a gay and familiar tone that the -new Cabinet was composed almost exclusively of -Southerners. Out of eight members Provence, -Bordeaux, Périgord and Languedoc had supplied -six; and then, growing excited: “Aha, the South -is climbing, the South is climbing! Paris is ours. -We have everything. It rests with you, gentlemen, -to profit by it. For the second time the Latins -have conquered Gaul!”</p> - -<p>He looked indeed like a Latin of the conquest, -his head like a medallion with broad flat surfaces -on the cheeks, with his dark complexion and -unceremonious ways, his carelessness, so out of -place in this Parisian drawing-room. In the midst<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span> -of the cheers and laughter greeting his last speech -Numa, always a good actor, knowing well how to -leave as soon as he had shot his bolt, suddenly -quitted the fireplace and signing to Méjean to follow -him passed from the room by one of the -smaller doors, leaving Rosalie to make his excuses -for him. He was to dine at Versailles with the -Marshal; he had hardly the time to dress and sign -a few papers.</p> - -<p>“Come and help me dress,” said he to a servant -who was laying the table with three plates, for -Roumestan, Madame and Bompard, around that -basket of flowers which Rosalie had fresh at every -meal. He felt a thrill of delight that he was not -to dine there; the tumult of enthusiasm that he -had left behind him in the drawing-room excited -in him the desire for more gayety and more brilliant -company. Besides, a Southerner is never a domestic -man. The Northern nations alone have invented -to meet their wretched climate the word -“home,” that intimate family circle to which the -Provençal and the Italian prefer the gardens of -cafés and the noise and excitement of the streets.</p> - -<p>Between the dining-room and the office was a -small reception room, usually full of people at this -hour, anxiously watching the clock and looking -abstractedly at the illustrated papers, but quite -preoccupied by their legal woes. Méjean had -sent them all away to-day, for he did not think -Numa could attend to them. One, however, had -refused to go: a big fellow in ready-made garments -and awkward as a corporal in citizen’s dress.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span></p> - -<p>“Ah, God be with ye, Monsieur Roumestan; -how are things? I have been hoping so long that -you would come!”</p> - -<p>The accent, the swarthy face, that jaunty air—Numa -had seen them somewhere before, but -where?</p> - -<p>“You have forgotten me?” said the stranger. -“Valmajour, the taborist.”</p> - -<p>“Oh yes, yes, of course.”</p> - -<p>He was about to pass on, but Valmajour planted -himself before him and informed him that he had -arrived the day before yesterday. “I couldn’t get -here before, because when one moves a whole -family, it takes a little time to get installed.”</p> - -<p>“A whole family?” said Numa with bulging -eyes.</p> - -<p>“<i>Bé!</i> yes; my father and my sister. We have -done as you advised.”</p> - -<p>Roumestan looked distressed and embarrassed, -as he always did when called upon to redeem notes -like this or fulfil a promise, lightly given in order -to make himself agreeable, but with little idea of -future acceptance. Dear me, he was only too glad -to be of use to Valmajour! He would consider -it and see what he could do. But this evening he -was very much hurried—exceptional circumstances—the -invitation of the President. But as the -peasant made no sign of going: “Come in here,” -said he, and they went into the study.</p> - -<p>As Numa sat at his desk reading over and signing -several papers Valmajour glanced about the -handsome room, richly furnished and carpeted, with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span> -book-shelves covering all the walls, surmounted by -bronzes, busts and works of art, reminiscences -each one of glorious causes—a portrait of the king -signed by his own royal hand. And he was much -impressed by the solemnity of it all—the stiffness -of the carved chairs, the rows of books, above all -the presence of the servant, correct in his severe -black costume, coming and going and arranging -quickly on chairs his master’s evening clothes and -immaculate linen. But over there in the light of -the lamps the big kind face and familiar profile of -Roumestan that he knew so well reassured him. -His letters finished, Roumestan began to dress, and -while the servant drew off his master’s trousers and -shoes he asked Valmajour questions and learned -to his dismay that before leaving home they had -sold everything that they owned in the world—mulberry-trees, -vineyards, farm, everything!</p> - -<p>“You sold your farm, foolish fellow?”</p> - -<p>“Well, my sister was somewhat afraid, but my -father and I insisted upon it. I said to them, -‘What risk is it when we are going to Numa and -when he is getting us to come?’”</p> - -<p>It needed all the taborist’s naïveté to dare talk -in that free and easy way before a Minister. It -was not Valmajour’s simplicity that struck Numa -most; it was the thought of the great crowd of -enemies that he had made for himself by this -incorrigible mania for promises. Now I ask you—what -need was there to go and disturb the quiet -life of these poor people? and he went over in -his memory all the details of his visit to Mount<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span> -Cordova, the scruples of the peasant girl and the -pains that he took to overcome them. What for? -what devil tempted him? He, this peasant, was -dreadful. And as to his talent, he did not remember -much about it, concerned as he was at -having this whole family on his shoulders. He -knew beforehand how his wife would reproach -him—remembered her cold look as she said: -“Still, words must mean <i>something!</i>” And now, -in his new position at the source and spring of -favors, what a lot of trouble he was going to -create for himself as a result of his own fatal -benevolence!</p> - -<p>But the gladsome thought that he was a Minister -and the consciousness of his power restored his -spirits almost at once. On such pinnacles as his, -why should such small things worry him? Master -of all the fine arts, with all the theatres and places -of amusement under his thumb, it would be a trifle -to make the fortune of these luckless people. -Restored to his own self-complacency, he changed -his tone and in order to keep the peasant in his -place told him solemnly and from a lofty place -to what important distinction he had been that -day appointed. Unhappily he was at that moment -only half dressed, his feet in silk stockings -rested on the floor and his portly form was arrayed -in white flannel underclothes trimmed with pink -ribbons. Valmajour could not connect the word -“Minister” in his mind with a fat man in his shirt-sleeves, -so he continued to call him <i>Moussu</i> Numa, -to talk to him about his own “music” and the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span> -new songs that he had learned. Ah, he feared no -tabor-player in all Paris now!</p> - -<p>“Listen, I will show you.”</p> - -<p>He flew toward the next room to get his tabor -but Roumestan stopped him.</p> - -<p>“I tell you I am in a great hurry, deuce take -you!”</p> - -<p>“All right, all right, another time then,” said -the peasant good-naturedly.</p> - -<p>And seeing Méjean approaching he thought it -necessary to begin to tell him the story of the -fife with three stops.</p> - -<p>“It come to me right in the middle of the -night, listening to the singing of the nightingoyle; -thought I to meself: ‘How is it, Valmajour—’”</p> - -<p>It was the same little story that he had told -them in the amphitheatre: having found it successful, -he cleverly clung to it, repeating it word -for word. But this time his manner became less -assured, a certain embarrassment gaining from -moment to moment as Roumestan finished his -toilet and stood before him in all the severity of -his black evening clothes and enormous shirt-front -of fine linen with its studs of Oriental pearls, which -the valet handed him piece by piece.</p> - -<p>Moussu Numa seemed to him to have grown -taller, his head, held stiffly, solemnly, for fear of -disarranging his immaculate white muslin tie, -seemed lighted up by the pale beams radiating -from the cross of Saint Anne around his neck and -the big order of Isabella the Catholic, like a sun, -pinned upon his breast. And suddenly the peasant,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span> -seized by a wave of respect and fright, realized -that he stood in the presence of one of those privileged -beings of the earth, that strange, almost -superhuman creature, the powerful god to whom -the prayers and desires and supplications of his -worshippers are sent only on large stamped paper, -so high up, indeed, that humbler devotees are never -privileged to see him, so haughty that they only -whisper his name with fear and trembling, in a -sort of restrained fear and ignorant emphasis—the -Minister!</p> - -<p>Poor Valmajour! He was so upset by this idea -that he hardly heard Roumestan’s kind words of -farewell, asking him to come again in a fortnight -when he would be installed in his new quarters at -the Ministry.</p> - -<p>“All right, all right, your Excellency.”</p> - -<p>He backed towards the door, still dazzled by -the orders and extraordinary expression of his -transfigured compatriot. Numa was delighted at -this sudden timidity, which was a tribute to what -he henceforward called his “ministerial air,” his -curling lip, his frowning brow and his severe, -reserved manner.</p> - -<p>A few moments later his Excellency was rolling -towards the railway station, forgetting this tiresome -episode and lulled by the gentle motion of -the coupé with its bright lamps as he flew to -meet his new and exalted engagements. He was -already preparing the telling points in his first -speech, composing his plan of campaign, his famous -letter to the rectors and thinking of the excitement<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span> -caused all over Europe when they should -read his nomination in to-morrow’s papers, when, -at the turn of the boulevard, in the light of a gas-lamp -reflected in the wet asphalt, he caught sight -of the taborist, his tabor hanging from his arm, -deafened and frightened, waiting for an opportunity -to cross the street which was at that hour, as -all Paris hastened to re-enter its gates, a moving -mass of carriages and wagons, while crowded -omnibuses jolted swaying along and the horns of -the tramway conductors sounded at intervals. In -the falling shades of night and the steam of dampness -which the rain threw up from the hurrying -crowd, in this great jostling crowd the poor boy -seemed so lost, exiled and overwhelmed by the -tall, unfriendly buildings around him—he seemed -so pitifully unlike the handsome Valmajour at the -door of his <i>mas</i>, giving the rhythm to the locusts -with his tabor, that Roumestan turned away his -head and, for a few moments, a feeling of remorse -threw a cloud over the radiant pathway of his -triumph.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.<br> - -<span class="smaller">THE PASSAGE DU SAUMON.</span></h2> -</div> - - - -<p class="chapfirst">While awaiting a more complete settling than -was possible before the arrival of their furniture, -which was coming by slow freight, the Valmajours -had taken rooms temporarily at the famous Passage -du Saumon, where from time immemorial -teachers from Aps and its district have stopped, -and of which Aunt Portal still retained such astonishing -recollections. There, up under the roof, they -had two small rooms, one of which was without -light or air, a kind of wood-closet which was occupied -by the men; the other was not much larger -but seemed to them fine in comparison, with its -worm-pierced black walnut furniture, its moth-eaten -ragged carpet on the worn wooden floor -and the dormer windows that let in only a bit of a -sky as lowering and yellow as the long donkey-backed -skylight over the Passage.</p> - -<p>In these poor quarters they kept up the memory -of home with a strong smell of garlic and fried -onions, which foreign food they cooked for themselves -on a little stove. Old Valmajour, who loved -good eating and was also fond of company, would -have liked to dine at the hotel table, where the -white linen and plated salt-cellars and service -seemed very handsome to him, and also to have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span> -joined in the noisy conversations and mingled with -shouts of laughter of the commercial gentlemen -who at meal times filled the house to the very top -floor with their noise and jollity. But Audiberte -opposed this flatly.</p> - -<p>Amazed not to find at once on their arrival the -promises of Numa fulfilled and the two hundred -francs an evening which had filled her little head -with piles of money ever since the visit of the -Parisians; horrified at the high price of everything, -from the first day she had been seized with -the craze that the Parisians call “fear of wanting.” -For herself she could get along with anchovies -and olives as in Lent—<i>té, pardi!</i> but her -men were perfect wolves, worse than in their own -country because it is colder in Paris, and she was -obliged to be constantly opening her <i>saquette</i>, a -large calico pocket made by her own hands, in -which she carried the three thousand francs that -they had received for their farm and chattels.</p> - -<p>Each coin that she spent was a struggle, a pang, -as if she were handing over the stones of her farmhouse -or the last vines of her vineyard. Her -peasant greed and her suspiciousness, that fear -of being cheated by a tenant which caused her to -sell her farm instead of letting it, were redoubled -in this gloomy, unknown Paris, this city which from -her garret she heard roaring with a sound that did -not cease day or night at this noisy corner of the -city market, causing the glasses near the hotel -water-bottle on the table to rattle at every hour.</p> - -<p>No traveller lost in a wood of sinister repute<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span> -ever clung more convulsively to his baggage than -did Audiberte to her <i>saquette</i> as she walked -through the streets in her green skirt and her -Arles head-dress, which the passers-by turned to -stare at. When she entered a shop with her countrywoman’s -gait, the way she had of calling things -by a lot of outlandish names, saying <i>api</i> for celery, -<i>mérinjanes</i> for aubergines, made her, a woman -from the south of France, as much a stranger in -her country’s capital as if she had been a Russian -from Nijni Novgorod or a Swede from Stockholm.</p> - -<p>Sweet and humble of manner at first, if she detected -a smile on the face of a clerk or received a -rough answer on account of her mania for bargaining, -she would suddenly fly into a gust of -rage; her pretty virginal brown face twitching -with frantic gesticulations she would pour forth -a torrent of noisy, vainglorious words. Then -she would tell about the expected legacy from -Cousin Puyfourcat, the two hundred francs a night -to be earned by her brother, the friendship that -Roumestan had for them—sometimes calling him -Numa, sometimes the <i>Menister</i>—all this with an -emphasis more grotesque than her familiarity. -Everything was jumbled together in a flood of -gibberish composed of the <i>langue d’oil</i> tinged -with French.</p> - -<p>Then her habitual caution would return to her; -she would fear that she had talked imprudently, -and, seized by a superstitious terror at her own -gossip, she would stop, suddenly mute, and close -her lips as tightly as the strings of her <i>saquette</i>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span></p> - -<p>At the end of a week she had become a legendary -character in the quarter of the Rue Montmartre, -a street of shops where, at their ever-open -doors, the vendors of meats, green-groceries and -colonial wares discussed the affairs and secrets of -all the inhabitants of the neighborhood. The constant -teasing of these people, the saucy questions -with which they plied her as she made her frugal -purchases each morning—as to why her brother’s -appearance was delayed and when the legacy was -coming from the Arab—all these insults to her -self-respect, more than the fear of poverty staring -them in the face, exasperated Audiberte against -Numa, against those promises which at first she -had suspected, true child of the South that she -was, knowing well that the promises of her country-people -down South vanish easier than those of -other folks—all because of the lightness of the -air.</p> - -<p>“Oh, if we had only made him sign a paper!”</p> - -<p>This idea became a fixture in her mind and she -felt daily in her brother’s pockets for the stamped -document when Valmajour set out for the Ministry, -in order to be sure it was there.</p> - -<p>But Roumestan was engaged in signing another -kind of paper and had many things to think of -more important than the taborist. He was settling -down in his new office with the generous -ardor and enthusiasm, with the fever of a man who -comes to his own. Everything was a novelty to -him—the enormous rooms of the Ministry as well -as the large ideas necessitated by his position.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span> -To arrive at the top, to “reconquer Gaul,” as he -had said, that was not so difficult; but to sustain -himself satisfactorily, to justify his elevation by -intelligent reforms and attempts at progress! -Full of zeal, he studied, questioned, consulted, -literally surrounded himself with shining lights. -With Béchut, that great professor, he studied the -evils of the college system and the means to -extirpate the spirit of free-thinking in the schools. -He employed the experience of his chief in the -fine arts, M. de la Calmette, who had behind -him twenty-nine years of office, and of Cadaillac, -the manager of the grand opera, who was still -erect after three failures, in order to remodel the -Conservatory, the Salon and the Academy of -Music in accordance with brand-new plans.</p> - -<p>The trouble was that he never listened to these -counsellors, but talked himself for hours at a time -and then, suddenly glancing at his watch, would -rise and hastily dismiss them: “Bad luck to it—I -had forgotten the council meeting! What a -life, not a moment to oneself! I understand—just -send me your memorial right off!”</p> - -<p>Memorials were piling up on Méjean’s desk, who, -notwithstanding his good intentions and intelligence, -had none too much time for current work -and so permitted these grand reforms to slumber -in their dust. Like all Ministers when they arrive -at a portfolio, Roumestan had brought with him -all his clerks from the Rue Scribe—Baron de -Lappara and Viscount de Rochemaure, who gave -a flavor of aristocracy to the new Ministry, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span> -who were otherwise perfectly incompetent and -ignorant of their duties.</p> - -<p>The first time that Valmajour came there he -was received by Lappara, who occupied himself -by preference with the fine arts and whose duties -consisted principally in sending invitations in large -official envelopes at all hours by staff officers, -dragoons or cuirassiers to the young ladies of the -minor theatres, asking them to supper. Sometimes -the envelope was empty, being merely a -pretext to display in front of the lady’s door that -reassuring orderly from the Ministry the day -before some debt came due.</p> - -<p>Lappara received him with a kindly, easy air, a -bit top-loftical, like that of a feudal lord receiving -one of his vassals. His legs outstretched, so as -not to crease his gray-blue trousers, he talked -mincingly without stopping a moment the polishing -of his nails.</p> - -<p>“Not easy just now—the Minister is busy—perhaps -in a few days. We’ll let you know, my -good fellow!”</p> - -<p>And when in his simplicity the musician ventured -to say that his matter was somewhat urgent, -that they only had enough for a short time left, -the baron, carefully placing his file upon the edge -of the desk with his most serious air, suggested to -him to have a crank attached to his tabor.</p> - -<p>“A crank attached to my tabor?—for what -purpose?”</p> - -<p>“Why, my dear fellow, so as to use it as a box -for <i>plaisirs</i> (cakes) while you are out of work.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span></p> - -<p>The next time Valmajour came to see Roumestan -he was received by Rochemaure. The viscount -raised his head of hair frizzed with hot -irons from the dusty ledger over which he was -bending and in his conscientious manner asked -to have the mechanism of the fife explained to -him, took notes, tried to understand and said -finally that he was not there for art matters, but -more especially for religious questions.</p> - -<p>After that the unhappy peasant never could -find any one—they had all betaken themselves to -that inaccessible retreat where His Excellency -had hidden himself. Still he did not lose calmness -or heart and always responded to the evasive -answers and shrugging shoulders of the attendants -with the surprised but steady look and shrewd -half-smile peculiar to the Provençal.</p> - -<p>“All right, I will come again.”</p> - -<p>And he did come again. But for his high gaiters -and the tabor hanging on his arm, he might -have been taken for an employee of the house, -he came so regularly. But each time he came it -was harder than the last.</p> - -<p>Now the mere sight of the great arched door -made his heart beat. Beyond the arch was the -old Hôtel Augereau with its large courtyard where -they were already stacking wood for the winter -and the double staircase so hard to ascend under -the mocking gaze of the servants. Everything -combined to harass him—the silver chains of the -porters, the gold-laced caps, the endless gorgeous -things that made him feel the distance that separated<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span> -him from his patron. But he dreaded more -than all this the dreadful scenes that he went -through at home, the terrible frowning brows of -Audiberte; that is why he still desperately insisted -on coming. At last the hall porter took pity upon -him and gave him the advice to waylay the Minister -at the Saint-Lazare station when he was going -down to Versailles.</p> - -<p>He took his advice and did sentry work in the -big lively waiting room on the first story at the -hour of the Parliament train when it took on a -very special look of its own. Deputies, senators, -journalists, members of the Left, of the Right and -all the parties jostled each other there, forming as -variegated a throng as the blue, red and green -placards that covered the walls. They watched -each other, talked, screamed, whispered, some sitting -apart rehearsing their next speech, others, -the orators of the lobbies, making the windows -rattle with loud voices that the Chamber was never -destined to hear. Northern accents and Southern -accents, divers opinions and sentiments, swarming -ambitions and intrigues, the noisy tramp of the -restless crowd—this waiting-room with its delays -and uncertainties was an appropriate theatre for -politics, this tumult of a journey at a fixed hour -which would soon, at bid of the whistle, be speeding -over the rails down a perspective of tracks, disks -and locomotives, over a country full of accidents -and surprises.</p> - -<p>Five minutes later he saw Numa enter, leaning -on the arm of one of his secretaries who carried<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span> -his portfolio. His coat was flung open, his face -beaming just as he had looked that day on the -platform in the amphitheatre and at a distance -he recognized the facile voice, the warm words, -his protestations of friendship: “Count on me,—put -yourself in my hands,—it is as good as -granted....”</p> - -<p>The Minister just then was in the honey-moon -of prosperity. Except for political enmities—not -always as bitter as they are supposed to be, simply -the result of rivalry between public speakers or -quarrels of lawyers on opposite sides of a case—Numa -had no enemies, not having been in power -long enough to discourage those who sought his -services. His credit was still good. Only a few -had begun to be impatient and dog his footsteps. -To these he threw a loud, hasty “How are -you, friend?” that anticipated their reproaches -and in a way denied their arguments, while his -familiar manner flattered the baffled office-seekers -and yet kept their demands at a distance. It was -a great idea, was this “How are you?” It sprang -from instinctive duplicity.</p> - -<p>At sight of Valmajour, who came swinging -towards him, his smile showing his white teeth, -Numa felt inclined to throw him his fatal, careless -“How are you, friend?”—but how could he -treat this peasant lad in a little felt hat as a friend -as he stood there in his gray jacket, from the -sleeves of which his brown hands protruded like -those in a cheap village photograph? He preferred -to pass him by without a word, with his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span> -“Ministerial air,” leaving the poor boy amazed, -crushed and knocked about by the crowd that was -following the great man. Still Valmajour returned -to his station the next day and several days thereafter, -but he did not dare approach the Minister; -he sat on the edge of a bench with that touching -air of sorrowful resignation that one so often sees -in a railway station on the faces of soldiers and -emigrants, who are going to a strange country, prepared -to meet all the chances of their evil destiny.</p> - -<p>Roumestan could not evade that silent figure -on his path with its dumb appeal. He might -pretend not to see it, turn aside his glance, talk -louder as he passed; the smile on his victim’s -face was there and remained there until the train -had gone. Of a certainty he would have preferred -a noisy demand and a row, when he could have -called a policeman and given the disturber of -his complacency in charge and so got rid of him. -He, the Minister, went so far as to take a different -station on the left bank of the Seine to avoid this -trouble of his conscience. Thus in many instances -is the greatest man’s life made wretched by some -little thing of no account, like a pebble in the -seven-league boots.</p> - -<p>But Valmajour would not despair.</p> - -<p>“He must be ill,” he said to himself and stuck -obstinately to his post. At home his sister watched -for his coming in a fever of impatience.</p> - -<p>“Well, <i>bé!</i> have you seen the Menister? Has -he signed that paper?”</p> - -<p>His eternal “No, not yet!” exasperated her,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span> -but more his calmness as he threw into a corner -his tabor whose strap left a dent on his shoulder—it -was the calmness of indolence and shiftlessness, -as common as vivacity among Southern -nations. Then the queer little creature would -fall into one of her furious fits. What had he -in his veins in place of blood?—was there to -be no end to this?—“Look out, or I will attend -to it myself!” Very calm, he made no answer, -but let the storm blow over, took his instruments -from their cases, his fife and mouth-piece with -its ivory tip, and rubbed them well with a bit of -cloth for fear of dampness and promised to try -at the Ministry again to-morrow, and, if he could -not see Numa, ask to see Mme. Roumestan.</p> - -<p>“O, <i>vaï!</i> Mme. Roumestan! You know she -does not like your music—but the young lady, -though—she will be sure to help you; yes indeed!” -And she tossed her head.</p> - -<p>“Madame or Mademoiselle, they don’t either -of them care anything about you,” said the old -man, who was cowering over a turf fire that his -daughter had economically covered with ashes, -a fire about which they were eternally quarrelling.</p> - -<p>In the bottom of his heart the old man was not -displeased at his son’s want of success, from professional -jealousy. All these complications and -the uprooting of their lives had been most welcome -to the Bohemian tastes of the old wandering -minstrel; he was delighted at first with the journey -and the idea of seeing Paris, that “Paradise of -females and purgatory of hosses,” as the carters<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span> -of his country put it, imagining that in Paris one -would see women like houris arrayed in transparent -garments and horses distorted, leaping -about in the midst of flames.</p> - -<p>Instead he had found cold, privations and rain. -From fear of Audiberte and respect for Roumestan -he had contented himself with grumbling and -shivering in a corner, only an occasional word or -wink hinting at his dissatisfaction. But Numa’s -treachery and his daughter’s fits of wrath gave -him also an excuse for opening hostilities. He -revenged himself for all the blows to his vanity -that his son’s musical proficiency had inflicted on -him for ten years and shrugged his shoulders as -he heard him trying his fife.</p> - -<p>“Music, music, oh, yes—much good your -music is going to do you!”</p> - -<p>And then in a loud voice he asked if it wasn’t -a sin to bring an old man like him so far—into -this <i>Sibelia</i>, this wilderness, to let him perish of -cold and hunger. He called on the memory of -his sainted wife, whom, by the way, he had killed -with unhappiness—“made a goat of her,” as -Audiberte put it. He would whine for hours at -a time, his head in the fire, red-faced and sullen, -until his daughter, wearied with his lamentations, -gave him a few pennies and sent him out to get -a glass of country wine for himself. In the wine-shop -his sorrows fled away. It was comfortable -by the roaring stove; in the warmth the old -wretch soon recovered his low vein of an actor -in Italian comedy, which his grotesque figure, big<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span> -nose and thin lips made more apparent, taken in -connection with his little wiry body, like Punch -in the show.</p> - -<p>He was soon the delight of the customers in -the wine-shop with his buffooneries and his boasting. -He jeered his son’s tabor and told them how -much trouble it gave them at the hotel; for in -order to be ready for his coming out Valmajour, -kept at tension by the delay of hopes, persisted -in practising up to midnight; but the other tenants -objected to the continual thunder of the tabor and -the ear-piercing cry of the fife—the very stairs -shook with the sound, as if an engine were in -motion on the fifth floor.</p> - -<p>“Go ahead,” Audiberte would say to her brother -when the proprietor came to them with complaints. -It was pretty queer if one hadn’t the right to make -music in this Paris that makes so much noise one -cannot sleep at night! So he continued to practise. -Then the proprietor demanded their rooms. -But when they left the Passage du Saumon, the -hostelry so well known in their native province, -one that recalled their native land, they felt as if -their exile were heavier to bear and that they had -journeyed still a bit farther North.</p> - -<p>The night before they left, after another long, -unfruitful journey taken by Valmajour, Audiberte -hurried her men through dinner without speaking -a word, but with the light of firm resolution -shining in her eyes. When it was over she threw -her long brown cloak over her shoulders and went -out, leaving the washing of the dishes to the men.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span></p> - -<p>“Two months, almost two months since we came -to Paris,” she muttered through her clenched teeth. -“I’ve had enough, I am going to speak to this -Menister myself—”</p> - -<p>She arranged the ribbon of her head-dress, that, -perched over her wavy hair in high bows, stood up -like a helmet, and rushed violently from the room, -her well-blacked boot-heels kicking at every step -the heavy material of her gown. Father and son -stared at each other alarmed, but did not dare to -restrain her; they knew that any interference -would but exasperate her anger. They passed -the afternoon alone together, hardly speaking as -the rain battered against the windows, the one -polishing his bag and fife, the other cooking the -stew for supper over a good, big fire that he took -advantage of Audiberte’s absence to kindle, and -over which he was for once getting thoroughly -warm.</p> - -<p>Finally her quick steps, the short steps of a -dwarf, were heard in the corridor. She entered -beaming.</p> - -<p>“Too bad our windows do not look out upon -the street,” she said, removing her cloak, which -was perfectly dry. “You might have seen the -beautiful carriage in which I came home.”</p> - -<p>“A carriage! you are joking!”</p> - -<p>“<i>And</i> two servants, <i>and</i> liveries—it is making a -great stir in the hotel!”</p> - -<p>Then in a wondering silence she described and -acted out her adventure. In the first place and -to start with—instead of going to the Minister,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span> -who would not have received her, she found out -the address—one can get anything if one talks -politely—of the sister of Mme. Roumestan, the -tall young lady who came to see them at Valmajour. -She did not live at the Ministry but with -her parents in a quarter full of little, badly-paved -streets that smelt of drugs and reminded Audiberte -of her own province. It was ever so far away and -she was obliged to walk. She found the place at -last in a little square surrounded with arcades like -the <i>placette</i> at Aps.</p> - -<p>The dear young lady—how well she had received -her, without any haughtiness, although everything -looked very rich and handsome in the house, much -gilding, and many silken curtains hung round on -this side and that, in every direction:</p> - -<p>“Ah, God be with you! So you have come to -Paris? Where from? Since when?”</p> - -<p>Then, when she heard how Numa had disappointed -them, she rang for her governess, she too -a lady in a bonnet, and all three set off for the -Ministry. It was something to see the bows and -reverences made to them by all those old beadles -who ran ahead of them to open the doors.</p> - -<p>“So you have seen him, then, the Minister?” -timidly ventured Valmajour as his sister stopped -to breathe.</p> - -<p>“Seen him! I certainly have; what did I tell -you, you poor <i>bédigas</i> (calf), that you must get -the young lady on your side! She arranged the -whole thing in no time. There is to be a great -musical function next week at the Minister’s and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span> -you are to play before the directors of the Conservatory -of Music. And after that, <i>cra-cra!</i> the -contract drawn up and signed!”</p> - -<p>But the best of all was that the young lady had -driven her home in the carriage of the Minister.</p> - -<p>“And she was very anxious to come upstairs with -me,” added the peasant girl, winking at her father -and distorting her pretty face with a meaning -grimace. The father’s old face, with its complexion -like a dried fig, wrinkled up in a look of slyness -which meant: “I understand; not a word!” He -no longer taunted the taborist. Valmajour himself, -very quiet, did not understand his sister’s perfidious -meaning; he could think only of his coming -appearance, and, taking down his instruments, he -passed all his pieces in review, sending the notes -as a farewell all over the house and down the -glass-covered passage in floods of trills on rolling -cadences.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.<br> - -<span class="smaller">RENEWAL OF YOUTH.</span></h2> -</div> - - - -<p class="chapfirst">The Minister and his wife had finished breakfast -in their dining-room on the first floor, a room much -too big and showy, that never could be thoroughly -thawed out, even with heavy curtains and the heat -of a furnace that warmed the whole house, and -the steam from the hot dishes of a copious repast. -By some chance that morning they were alone -together. On the table amidst the dessert, always -a great feature in the Southerner’s meal, lay a box -of cigars and a cup of vervain, which is the tea of -the Provençal, and large boxes filled with cards of -invitation to a series of concerts to be given by -the Minister. They were addressed to senators, -deputies, clergymen, professors, academicians, -people of society—all the motley crowd that is -generally bidden to public receptions; and some -larger boxes for the cards to the privileged guests -asked to the first series of “little concerts.”</p> - -<p>Mme. Roumestan was running them over, occasionally -pausing at some name, watched by her -husband out of the corner of his eye as he pretended -to be absorbed in selecting a cigar, while -really his furtive glance was noting the disapprobation<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span> -and reserve on her quiet face at the promiscuous -way this first batch of invitations had been -selected.</p> - -<p>But Rosalie asked no questions; all these preparations -did not interest her. Since their installation -at the Ministry she had felt herself farther off -than ever from her husband, separated by his many -engagements, too many guests and a public way -of living that had destroyed all intimacy. To this -was added the ever-bitter sorrow of childlessness; -never to hear about her the pattering of tireless -little feet, nor any of those peals of baby laughter -that would have banished from their dining-room -that icy look as if a hotel where they were stopping -for a day or two, with its impersonal air on tablecloth, -furniture, silver and all the sumptuous things -to be found in any public place.</p> - -<p>In the embarrassing silence could be heard the -distant sound of hammers interspersed with music -and singing. The musicians were rehearsing, while -carpenters were busy putting up and hanging the -stage on which the concert was to take place. -The door opened; Méjean entered, his hands full -of papers.</p> - -<p>“Still more petitions!”</p> - -<p>Roumestan flew into a rage: No, it was really -too bad!—if it were the Pope himself there would -be no place to give him. Méjean calmly placed -before him the heap of letters, cards and scented -notes:</p> - -<p>“It is very difficult to refuse—you promised -them, you know—”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span></p> - -<p>“I promised? I haven’t spoken to one of -them!”</p> - -<p>“Listen a moment: ‘My dear Minister—I beg -to remind you of your kind speech,’ and this one, -‘The General informs me that you were so kind -as to offer him,’ and this, ‘Reminding the Minister -of his promise.’”</p> - -<p>“I must be a somnambulist, then!” said Roumestan -in astonishment.</p> - -<p>The fact was that as soon as the day for the -concert was decided upon Numa had said to every -one whom he met in the Senate or Chamber: “I -count on you for the 10th, you know,” and as he -added “Quite a private affair,” no one had failed -to accept the flattering invitation.</p> - -<p>Embarrassed at being caught in the act by -his wife, he vented his irritability upon her as -usual.</p> - -<p>“It’s the fault of your sister with her taborist. -What need have I of all this fuss? I did not intend -to give our concerts until much later—but that -girl, such an impatient little person! ‘No, no, -right away;’ and you were in as much of a hurry -as she was! <i>L’azé me fiche</i> if I don’t believe this -taborist has turned your heads.”</p> - -<p>“O no, not mine,” answered Rosalie gayly. -“Indeed I am dreadfully afraid that this foreign -music may not be understood by the Parisians. -We ought to have brought the atmosphere of -Provence, the costumes, the farandole—but first -of all,” she added seriously, “it is necessary that -you must keep your promise.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span></p> - -<p>“Promise, promise? It will be impossible to -talk at all very soon!”</p> - -<p>Turning towards his secretary, who was smiling, -he added:</p> - -<p>“By Jove, all Southerners are not like you, -Méjean, cold and calculating and taciturn. You -are a false one, a renegade Southerner, a <i>Franciot</i>, -as they say with us. A Southerner?—you? A -man who has never lied and who does not like -vervain tea!” he added with a comically indignant -tone.</p> - -<p>“I am not so <i>franciot</i> as I seem, sir,” answered -Méjean calmly. “When I first came to Paris -twenty years ago I was a terrible Southerner—impudence, -gesticulations, assurance—as talkative -and inventive as—”</p> - -<p>“As Bompard,” prompted Roumestan, who never -liked other people to ridicule his dearest friend, -but did not deny himself the privilege.</p> - -<p>“Yes, really, almost as bad as Bompard. A -kind of instinct urged me never to tell the truth. -One day I began to feel ashamed of this and -resolved to correct it. Outward exaggeration -could be mastered at least by speaking in a low -voice and keeping my arms pressed tightly against -my sides; but the inward—the boiling, bubbling -torrent—that was more difficult. Then I -made an heroic resolution. Every time I caught -myself in an untruth I punished myself by not -speaking for the rest of the day; that is how I was -able to reform my nature. Nevertheless the instinct -is there under all my coolness. Sometimes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span> -I have broken off short in the middle of a sentence—it -isn’t the words I lack, quite the contrary—I -hold myself in check because I feel that -I am going to lie.”</p> - -<p>“The terrible South—there is no way of escaping -from it!” said the genial Numa, philosophically, -blowing a cloud of smoke from his cigar up to the -ceiling. “The South holds me through the mania -I have to make promises, that craziness of throwing -myself at people’s heads and insisting on their happiness -whether they want it or not—”</p> - -<p>A footman interrupted him, opened the door -and announced with a knowing and confidential -air:</p> - -<p>“M. Béchut is here.”</p> - -<p>The Minister was furious at once. “Tell him I -am at breakfast! I wish people would let me -alone.”</p> - -<p>The footman asked pardon, but said M. Béchut -claimed that he had an appointment with his Excellency. -Roumestan softened visibly:</p> - -<p>“Well, well, I will come. Let him wait in the -library.”</p> - -<p>“Not in the library,” said Méjean, “it is occupied; -there’s the Superior Council! You appointed -this hour to see them.”</p> - -<p>“Well, in M. de Lappara’s room, then—”</p> - -<p>“I have put the Bishop of Tulle in there,” said -the footman timidly; “your Excellency said—”</p> - -<p>Every place was occupied with office-seekers -whom he had confidentially told that the breakfast -hour was the time when they would be sure to find<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span> -him—and most of them were personages that -could not be made to “do antechamber” like the -ordinary herd.</p> - -<p>“Go into my morning room,” said Rosalie as -she rose. “I am going out.”</p> - -<p>And while the secretary and the footman went -to reassure and quiet the waiting petitioners Numa -hastily swallowed his cup of vervain, scalding himself -badly, exclaiming: “I am at my wits’ end, -overwhelmed.”</p> - -<p>“What can that sorry fellow Béchut be after -now?” asked Rosalie, instinctively lowering her -voice in that crowded house where a stranger was -lurking behind every door.</p> - -<p>“What is he after? After the manager’s position -of course. <i>Té!</i> he is Dansaert’s shark—he -expects him to be thrown overboard for him to -devour.”</p> - -<p>She approached him hastily:</p> - -<p>“Is M. Dansaert to be dropped from the Cabinet?”</p> - -<p>“Do you know him?”</p> - -<p>“My father often spoke of him—he was a compatriot -and old friend of his. He considers him an -upright man and very clever.”</p> - -<p>Roumestan stammered out his reasons: “Bad -tendencies—free-thinker—it was necessary to -make reforms, and then, he was a very old man.”</p> - -<p>“And you will put Béchut in his place?”</p> - -<p>“O, I know the poor man lacks the gift of -pleasing the ladies.”</p> - -<p>She smiled a fine scornful smile.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span></p> - -<p>“His impertinences are as indifferent to me as -his compliments would be. What I cannot forgive -in him is his assumption of clerical learning and -piety. I respect all forms of religion—but if there -is one thing more detestable in this world than another, -it is hypocrisy and deceit.”</p> - -<p>Unconsciously her voice rose warm and vibrating; -her rather cold features beamed with a glow -of honesty and rectitude and flushed with righteous -indignation.</p> - -<p>“Hush, hush,” said Numa pointing towards the -door. Perhaps it was not perfectly just; he allowed -that old Dansaert had rendered good service to -his country; but what was to be done? He had -given his word.</p> - -<p>“Take it back,” said Rosalie. “Come, Numa, -for my sake—I implore you!”</p> - -<p>The tender request was emphasized by the -gentle pressure of her little hand upon his shoulder. -He was much touched. His wife had not seemed -interested in his affairs of late; she had given -only an indulgent but silent attention to his plans, -which were ever changing their direction. This -urgent request was flattering to him.</p> - -<p>“Can any one resist you, my darling?”</p> - -<p>He pressed upon her finger tips a kiss so fervid -that she felt it all up her narrow sleeve. She had -such beautiful arms! It was most painful, however, -to say anything disagreeable to a man’s face and -he rose reluctantly:</p> - -<p>“I will be here, listening!” she said with a -pretty threatening gesture.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span></p> - -<p>He went into the next room, leaving the door -ajar to give himself courage and so that she might -hear all that was said. Oh, the beginning was -firm and to the point!</p> - -<p>“I am in despair, my dear Béchut—but it is -utterly impossible for me to do for you as I -promised—”</p> - -<p>The answer of the professor was inaudible, but -rendered in a tearful, supplicating voice through -his huge tapir-like nose. To her surprise Roumestan -did not waver, but began to sound the praises -of Dansaert with a surprising accent of conviction -for a man to whom all his arguments had only -just been suggested. True, it was very hard for -him to take back a promise once given, but was it -not better than to do an act of injustice? It was -his wife’s thought modulated and put to music -and uttered with wide, heartfelt gestures that made -the hangings vibrate.</p> - -<p>“Of course I will make up to you in some way -this little misunderstanding,” he added, changing -his tone hastily.</p> - -<p>“Oh, good Lord!” cried Rosalie under her -breath. Then came a shower of new promises—the -cross of commander in the Legion of Honor on the -first of January next, the next vacancy in the Superior -Council, the—the—Béchut tried to protest, -just for decency’s sake, but said Numa: “Permit -me, permit me, it’s only an act of justice—such -men as you are too uncommon—”</p> - -<p>Intoxicated with his own benevolence, stammering -from sheer affectionateness—if Béchut had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span> -not gone Numa would have offered him his own -portfolio next. But suddenly remembering the -concert, he called to him from the door:</p> - -<p>“I count on seeing you next Sunday, my dear -professor; we are starting a series of little concerts, -very unceremonious you know—the very ‘top of -the basket’—”</p> - -<p>Then returning to Rosalie, he said:</p> - -<p>“Well, what do you think of it? I hope I have -been firm enough!”</p> - -<p>It was really so amusing that she burst into a -peal of laughter. When he understood her amusement -and that he had made a number of new -promises, he seemed alarmed.</p> - -<p>“Well, well, people are grateful to one all the -same.”</p> - -<p>She left him, smiling one of her old smiles, quite -gay from her kind deed and perhaps above all -delighted to find a feeling for him reviving in her -heart that she had long thought dead.</p> - -<p>“Angel that you are!” said Numa to himself as -he watched her go, tears of tenderness in his eyes; -and when Méjean came in to remind him of the -waiting council:</p> - -<p>“My friend, listen: when one has the luck to -possess a wife like mine—marriage is an earthly -Paradise. Hurry up and marry!”</p> - -<p>Méjean shook his head without answering.</p> - -<p>“How now? Isn’t your affair prospering?”</p> - -<p>“I fear not. Mme. Roumestan promised to -sound her sister for me, but as she has never said -anything more—”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span></p> - -<p>“Don’t you want me to manage it for you? I -get on splendidly with my little sister-in-law.... I -bet you I can make her decide....”</p> - -<p>There was still a little vervain left in the teapot, -and as he poured out a fresh cup Roumestan overflowed -with protestations to his first secretary. -“Ah! no, success had not altered him; as always, -Méjean was his best, his chosen friend! Between -him and Rosalie he indeed felt himself stronger -and more complete....</p> - -<p>“O, my friend, that woman, that woman—if you -only knew what her goodness is! how noble and -forgiving! When I think that I was capable of—”</p> - -<p>Positively it was with difficulty that he restrained -himself from launching the confidence that rose to -his lips along with a heavy sigh. “If I did not -love her, I should be guilty indeed.”</p> - -<p>Baron de Lappara came in quickly and whispered -with a mysterious air:</p> - -<p>“Mlle. Bachellery is here.”</p> - -<p>Numa turned scarlet and a flash dried the tenderness -from his eyes in a moment.</p> - -<p>“Where is she? In your room?”</p> - -<p>“Monsignor Lipmann was there already,” said -Lappara, smiling a little at the idea of the possible -meeting. “I put her downstairs in the large -drawing-room. The rehearsal is over.”</p> - -<p>“Very well; I will go.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t forget the Council,” Méjean tried to say, -but Roumestan did not hear and sprang down the -steep stairway leading to the Minister’s private -apartments on the reception floor.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span></p> - -<p>He had steered clear of serious entanglements -since the trouble over Mme. d’Escarbès, avoiding -adventures of the heart or of vanity, because -he feared an open rupture that might ruin his -household forever. He was not a model husband, -certainly, but the marriage contract, though soiled -and full of holes, was still intact. Though once -well warned, Rosalie was much too honest and -high-minded to spy jealously upon her husband, -and although she was always anxious, never sought -for proofs. Even at that moment, if Numa had -had any idea of the influence this new fancy of -his was to have upon his life, he would have hastened -to ascend the stairs much more quickly -than he had come down them; but our destiny -delights to come to us in mask and domino, -doubling the pleasure of the first meeting with -the touch of mystery. How could Numa divine -that any danger threatened from the pretty little -girl whom he had seen from his carriage window -crossing the courtyard several days before, jumping -over the puddles, holding her umbrella in one -hand and her coquettish skirts gathered up in the -other, with all the smartness of a true Parisian -woman, her long lashes curving above a saucy, -turned-up nose, her blond hair, twisted in an -American knot behind, which the moist air had -turned to curls at the ends, and her shapely, finely-curved -leg quite at ease above her high-heeled -boot—that was all he had seen of her. So during -the evening he had said to De Lappara as if it -were a matter of very little importance:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span></p> - -<p>“I will wager, that little charmer I met in the -courtyard this morning was on her way to see -you.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, your Excellency, she came to see me, -but it was on your account she came.”</p> - -<p>And then he had named little Bachellery.</p> - -<p>“What! the <i>débutante</i> at the Bouffes? How old -is she? Why, she’s hardly more than a child!”</p> - -<p>The papers were talking a great deal that winter -about this Alice Bachellery, whom a fashionable -<i>impresario</i> had discovered in a small theatre in -the provinces, whom all the world was crowding -to hear when she sang the “Little Baker’s Boy,” -the chorus to <span class="lock">which—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Hot, hot, little oat-cakes”—</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="afterpoetry">she gave with an irresistible drollery. She was -one of those divas half a dozen of whom the -boulevard devours each season, paper reputations -inflated by gas and puffery, which make one think -of the little rose-colored balloons that live their -single day of sunshine and dust in the public -gardens. And what think you she had come to -ask for at the Minister’s? Permission to appear -on the programme at his first concert! Little -Bachellery and the Department of Public Instruction! -It was so amusing and so crazy that Numa -wanted to hear her ask it himself; so by a Ministerial -letter that smelt of the leather and gloves -of the orderly who took it he gave her to understand -that he would receive her next day. But -the next day Mlle. Bachellery did not appear.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span></p> - -<p>“She must have changed her mind,” said Lappara, -“she is such a child!”</p> - -<p>But Roumestan felt piqued, did not mention the -subject for two days and on the third sent for her.</p> - -<p>And now she was awaiting him in the great -drawing-room for official functions, all in gold and -red, so imposing with its long windows opening -into the garden now bereft of flowers, its Gobelin -tapestries and its marble statue of Molière sitting -in a dreamy posture in the background. A -grand piano, a few music-stands used at the rehearsal, -scarcely filled one corner of the big room -whose dreary air, like an empty museum, would -have disconcerted any one but little Bachellery; -but then she was such a child!</p> - -<p>Tempted by the broad floor, all waxed and -shiny, here she was, amusing herself by taking -slides from one end of the room to the other, -wrapped in her furs, her hands in a muff too small -for them, her little nose upraised under her jaunty -pork-pie hat, looking like one of the dancers of -the “ice ballet” in <i>The Prophet</i>. Roumestan -caught her at the game.</p> - -<p>“Oh! Your Excellency!”</p> - -<p>She was dreadfully embarrassed, her eyelashes -quivering, all out of breath. He had come in -with his head up and a solemn step in order to -give some point to a somewhat irregular interview -and put this impertinent huzzy, who had kept -Ministers waiting, in her proper place. But the -sight of her quite disarmed him. What could you -expect?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span></p> - -<p>She laid her simple ambition so cleverly before -him as an idea that had come to her suddenly, to -appear at the concerts which every one was talking -about so much—it would be of so much advantage -to her to be heard otherwise than in -comic opera and music hall extravaganzas, which -bored her to death! But then, on reflection, a -panic had seized her: “Oh, I tell you, a regular -panic! Wasn’t it, Mamma?”</p> - -<p>Then for the first time Roumestan perceived -a stout woman in a velvet cloak and a much -beplumed bonnet advancing toward him with -regular reverences every three steps. Mme. -Bachellery, the mother, had been a singer in a -concert-garden. She had the Bordeaux accent, -a little nose like her daughter’s sunk in a large -face like a dish—one of those terrible mothers, -who, in the company of their daughters, seem -the hideous prophecy of what their beauty will -come to! But Numa was not engaged in a philosophical -study. He was too much engrossed by -the grace of this hoyden that shone from a finished -body, a body adorably finished, as well as -by her theatrical slang mingled with her childlike -laugh, “her sixteen-year-old laugh,” as the -ladies of her acquaintance called it.</p> - -<p>“Sixteen! then how old could she have been -when she went on the stage?”</p> - -<p>“She was born there, your Excellency. Her -father, now retired, was the manager of the Folies -Bordelaises.”</p> - -<p>“A daughter of the regiment,” said Alice, showing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span> -thirty-two sparkling teeth, as close and evenly -ranked as soldiers on parade.</p> - -<p>“Alice, Alice, you forget yourself in the presence -of his Excellency.”</p> - -<p>“Let her alone—she is only a child!”</p> - -<p>He made her sit down by him on the sofa in a -kindly, almost paternal manner, complimented her -on her ambition and her sentiment for real art, -her desire to escape from the easy and demoralizing -successes of comic opera; but then she -would have to work hard and study seriously.</p> - -<p>“O, as for that,” she answered, brandishing a -roll of music, “I study two hours every day with -Mme. Vauters.”</p> - -<p>“Mme. Vauters? Yes, hers is an excellent -method,” and he opened the roll of music and -examined its contents with a knowing air.</p> - -<p>“What are we singing now? Aha! The waltz -of <i>Mireille</i>, the song of Magali. Why, they are -the songs of my part of the country!”</p> - -<p>He half closed his eyes and keeping time with -his head he began softly to hum:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">“O Magali, ma bien-aimée,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Fuyons tous deux sous la ramée</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Au fond du bois silencieux....”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>And she took it up:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“La nuit sur nous étend ses voiles</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Et tes beaux yeux—”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>And Roumestan sang out loud:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Vont faire pâlir les étoiles....”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span></p> -<p>“Do wait a moment,” she cried, “Mamma will -play us the accompaniment.”</p> - -<p>Pushing aside the music-stands and opening -the piano, she led her reluctant mother to the -piano-stool. Ah, she was such a determined little -person! The Minister hesitated a moment with -his finger on the page of the duet—what if any -one should hear them? Never mind; there had -been rehearsals going on every day in the big -salon.... They began.</p> - -<p>They were singing together from the same sheet -of music as they stood, while Mme. Bachellery -played from memory. Their heads were almost -touching, their breaths mingled together with -caressing modulations of the music. Numa got -excited and dramatic, raising his arms to bring -out the high notes. For many years now, ever -since his political life had absorbed him, he had -done more talking than singing. His voice had -become heavy like his figure, but he still loved to -sing, especially with this child.</p> - -<p>He had completely forgotten the Bishop of -Tulle and the Superior Council which was wearily -awaiting him round the big green table. Several -times the pallid face of the chamberlain on duty, -his official silver chain clanking, peered into the -room but quickly disappeared again, terrified -lest he should be caught gazing at the Minister -of Public Instruction and Religions singing a duet -with an actress from one of the minor theatres. -But a Minister Numa was no longer, only Vincent -the basket-maker pursuing the unapproachable<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span> -Magali through all her coquettish transformations. -And how well she fled! how well, with childish -malice, she did make her escape, her ringing -laughter clear as pearls rippling over her sharp -little teeth, until at last, overcome, she yields and -her mad little head, made dizzy by her rapid -course, sinks on her lover’s shoulder!...</p> - -<p>Mme. Bachellery broke the charm and recalled -them to their senses as soon as the song was -finished. Turning round, she cried:</p> - -<p>“What a voice, Excellency! What a noble -voice!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I used to sing when I was young” he -said, somewhat fatuously.</p> - -<p>“But you still sing <i>maganifisuntly!</i> Say, Baby, -what a contrast to M. de Lappara!”</p> - -<p>Baby, who was rolling up her music, shrugged -her shoulders as much as to say, that was too -much of a truism to be discussed or to need further -answer. A little anxious, Roumestan asked:</p> - -<p>“Indeed? M. de Lappara?”</p> - -<p>“O, he sometimes comes to eat <i>bouillabaise</i> -with us; then after dinner Baby and he sing duets -together.”</p> - -<p>Hearing the music no longer, the chamberlain -ventured at last into the room, as cautiously as a -lion-tamer going into a cage of lions.</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, I am coming,” said Roumestan, and -addressing the little actress with his best “Excellency -air” in order to make her feel the difference -in position between him and his secretary:</p> - -<p>“I am very much pleased with your singing,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span> -Mademoiselle; you have a great deal of talent, a -great deal! And if you care to sing for us on -Sunday next, I gladly grant you that favor.”</p> - -<p>She gave a joyful, childlike cry: “Really? O, -how lovely of you!”—and in an instant flung her -arms about his neck.</p> - -<p>“Alice! Alice! Well, I declare!” cried her -mother.</p> - -<p>But she was gone; she had taken flight through -the great rooms where she looked so tiny in the -long perspective—a child! O, such a perfect -child!</p> - -<p>Much agitated by her caress, Roumestan paused -a few moments before he went upstairs. Outside -in the wintry garden one pale sun-ray shone on -the withered lawn and seemed to warm and revive -the winter. He felt penetrated to the heart by a -similar warmth as if the contact with this supple -youthful form communicated some of its spring-like -vitality to him. “Ah! how charming is -youth!”</p> - -<p>Instinctively he glanced at himself in the mirror; -a mournfulness came over him that he had not felt -for years. How changed things were, <i>boun Diou!</i> -He had grown very stout from want of exercise, -much sitting at his desk and the too constant use -of his carriage; his complexion was injured by -staying up late at night, his hair thin and grizzled -at the temples; he was even more horrified at the -fatness of his cheeks and the vast flat expanse between -his nose and his ears. “I have a mind to -grow a beard to cover that.” But then the beard<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span> -would be white—and yet he was only forty-five. -Alas, politics age one so!</p> - -<p>He was suffering there, in those few moments, -the frightful anguish a woman feels when she realizes -that all is over—her power of inspiring love -is gone, while her own power to love still remains. -His reddened lids swelled with tears; there in the -midst of his masterful place this sorrow profoundly -human, in which ambition had no part, seemed to -him bitter almost beyond endurance. But with -his usual versatility of feeling he consoled himself -quickly by thinking of his talents, his fame and -his high position. Were they not just as strong -as beauty or as youth in order to make him loved?</p> - -<p>“Come, come!”</p> - -<p>He quite despised himself for his folly, and, driving -off his troubles with the customary jerk of his -shoulder, went upstairs to dismiss the Council, for -he had no time left to preside to-day.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>“What has happened to you, my dear Excellency, -you seem to have renewed your youth?”</p> - -<p>This question was asked him a dozen times in -the lobby of the Chambers, where his good humor -was remarked upon and where he caught himself -humming, “O Magali, my well-beloved.” Sitting -on the Bench he listened with an attention -most flattering to the speaker during a long-winded -discourse about the tariff, smiling beatifically beneath -his lowered eyelids.</p> - -<p>So the Left, whom his character for astuteness -held in awe, said timidly one to the other: “Let<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span> -us hold fast, Roumestan is preparing a coup!” -In reality he was engaged in bringing before his -mental vision, through the empty hum of the -wearying discourse, the outlines of little Bachellery, -trotting her out, as it were, before the Ministerial -Bench, passing her attractions in review, her -hair waving like a golden net across her brow, her -wild-rose complexion, her bewitching air of a girl -who was already a woman!</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, that evening he had another attack -of moodiness on the train returning from Versailles -with some of his colleagues of the Cabinet. In -the heated carriage where every one was smoking -they were discussing, in the free and easy manner -that Numa always carried about with him, a certain -orange-colored velvet bonnet in the diplomats’ -gallery that framed a pale Creole face; it -had proved an agreeable diversion from the tariff -question and caused all the honorable noses to -rise, just as the sudden appearance of a butterfly -in a school-room will fix the attention of the class -in the middle of a Greek lesson. Who was she? -No one knew.</p> - -<p>“You must ask the General,” said Numa gayly, -turning to the Marquis d’Espaillon d’Aubord, Minister -of War, an old rake, tireless in love. “That’s -all right—do not try to get out of it—she -never looked at any one but you.”</p> - -<p>The General cut a sinister grimace that caused -his old yellow goat’s moustache to fly up under -his nose as if it were moved by springs.</p> - -<p>“It is a good while since women have bothered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span> -themselves about me—they only care for bucks -like that!”</p> - -<p>In this extremely choice language peculiar to -noblemen and soldiers he indicated young De -Lappara, sitting modestly in a corner of the carriage -with Numa’s portfolio on his lap, respectfully -silent in the company of the big-wigs.</p> - -<p>Roumestan felt piqued, he did not know exactly -why, and replied hotly. In his opinion there were -many other things that women preferred to youth -in a man.</p> - -<p>“They tell you that, of course.”</p> - -<p>“I ask the opinion of these gentlemen.”</p> - -<p>These gentlemen were all elderly, some so fat -that their coats would hardly meet across their -stomachs, some thin and dried up, bald or quite -white, with defective teeth and ugly mouths, many -of them in failing health—these Ministers and -Under-secretaries of State all agreed with Numa. -The discussion became very animated as the Parliamentary -train rushed along with its noise of -wheels and loud talk.</p> - -<p>“Our Ministers are having a great row,” said -the people in the neighboring compartments.</p> - -<p>Several newspaper reporters tried to hear through -the partitions what they were saying.</p> - -<p>“The well-known man, the man in power!” -thundered Numa, “that is what they like. To know -that the man who is kneeling before them with his -head on their knees is a great man, a powerful man, -one who moves the world—that works them up!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span></p> - -<p>“You are right, quite right.”</p> - -<p>“I am of your opinion, my dear colleague.”</p> - -<p>“Well, as for me, I tell you that when I was -only a poor little lieutenant on the staff and went -out on my Sunday leave, dressed in my best, with -my five and twenty years and my new shoulder-straps, -I used to get many long, fond glances from -the women whom I met, those glances like a whip -that make your whole body tingle from head to foot, -looks that cannot be got by a big epaulette of my -age. And so, now, when I want to feel the warmth -and sincerity in looks of that sort from lovely eyes, -silent declarations in the open street, do you know -what I do? I take one of my aides-de-camp, young, -cocky, with a fine figure and—get them by promenading -by his side, S—d—m—s—!”</p> - -<p>Roumestan did not speak again until they reached -Paris. As in the morning, he was again plunged -in gloom, but furious also against those fools of -women who could be so blind as to go crazy over -boobies and fops.</p> - -<p>What was there particularly fascinating about -De Lappara he would like to know? Throughout -the discussion he had sat fingering his beard with -a fatuous air, looking conceited in his perfect -clothes and low-cut shirt collar, and not saying -a word. He would have liked to slap him. Probably -it was that air he took when he sang <i>Mireille</i> -with little Bachellery—who was probably his mistress. -The idea was horrible to him—but still -he would have liked to know the truth about it -and convince himself.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span></p> - -<p>As soon as they were alone and driving to the -Ministry in the coupé he said to Lappara suddenly, -brutally, without looking at him:</p> - -<p>“Have you known these women long?”</p> - -<p>“Which women, your Excellency?”</p> - -<p>“The Bachellerys, of course; O, come!”</p> - -<p>He had been thinking of them so constantly -himself that he felt as if every one else must be -doing the same thing. Lappara laughed.</p> - -<p>O, yes—he had known them a long time; they -were countrywomen of his. The Bachellery family -and the Folies Bordelaises were part of the -jolliest souvenirs of his youth. He had been desperately -enough in love with the mother when -he was a lad to make all his school-boy buttons -split.</p> - -<p>“And to-day in love with the daughter?” asked -Roumestan playfully, rubbing the misty window -with his glove to look out into the dark rainy -street.</p> - -<p>“Ah!—the daughter is a horse of another color. -Although she seems to be so light and frisky, she -is really a very serious and cool young person. -I don’t know what she is aiming at, but I feel that -it is something that I can never have the chance -to offer her.”</p> - -<p>Numa felt comforted: “Really—and yet you -continue to go there!”</p> - -<p>“O, yes, they are so amusing, the Bachellery -family. The father, the retired manager, writes -comic songs for the concert-gardens. The mother -sings and acts them while frying eels in oil and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span> -making a <i>bouillabaise</i> that Roubion’s own isn’t -a patch on. Noise, disorder, bits of music, rows—there -you have the Folies Bordelaises at home. -Alice rules the roost, rushes about like mad, runs -the supper, sings; but never loses her head for -one moment.”</p> - -<p>“Well, gay boy, you expect her to lose it some -day, do you not? and in your favor!” Suddenly -becoming very serious the Minister added: “It -is not a good place for you to go to, young man. -The devil! You must learn to take life more seriously -than you do. The Bordelaise folly cannot -last all your life.”</p> - -<p>He took his hand: “Do you never think of -marrying?”</p> - -<p>“No, indeed, Excellency. I am perfectly content -as I am—unless, indeed, I should find some -uncommon bonanza.”</p> - -<p>“We could find you the bonanza—with your -name, your connections ... what would you say to -Mlle. Le Quesnoy?”</p> - -<p>“O, Excellency—I never should have dared....”</p> - -<p>Notwithstanding all his boldness, the Bordeaux -man grew pale with joy and astonishment.</p> - -<p>“Why not? You must, you must—you know -how highly I esteem you, my dear boy; I should -like to have you as a member of my family—I -should feel stronger, more rounded out—”</p> - -<p>He stopped suddenly, remembering that he -had used these same words to Méjean that same -morning.</p> - -<p>“Well, I can’t help it—it’s done now.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span></p> - -<p>He jerked his shoulder and sank into a corner -of the coupé.</p> - -<p>“After all, Hortense is free to choose for herself; -she can decide. I shall have saved this boy -anyhow from spending his time in bad company.” -And in fact Roumestan really thought that this -motive alone had made him act as he did.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.<br> - -<span class="smaller">AN EVENING PARTY AT THE MINISTRY.</span></h2> -</div> - - - -<p class="chapfirst">There was an unusual look to the Faubourg St. -Germain that evening. Quiet little streets that -were sleeping peacefully at an early hour were -awakened by the jolting of omnibuses turned from -their usual course; while other streets, where -usually the uninterrupted stream and roar of great -Parisian arteries prevail, were like a river-bed -from which the water has been drained. Silent, -empty, apparently enlarged, the entrance was -guarded by the outline of a mounted policeman -or by the sombre shadows across the asphalt of a -line of civic guards, with hoods drawn up over -their caps and hands muffled in their long sleeves, -saying by a gesture to carriages as they approached: -“No one can pass.”</p> - -<p>“Is it a fire?” asked a frightened man, putting -his head out of the carriage window.</p> - -<p>“No, sir; it is the evening party of the Public -Instruction.”</p> - -<p>The sentry passed on and the coachman drove -off, swearing at being obliged to go so far out of -his way on that left bank of the Seine, where the -little streets planned without system are still somewhat -confusing, after the fashion of old Paris.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span></p> - -<p>At a distance, sure enough, the brilliant lights -from the two fronts of the Ministry, the bonfires -lighted in the middle of the streets because of -the cold, the gleam from lines of lanterns on the -carriages converging to one spot, threw a halo -round the whole quarter like the reflection of a -great conflagration, made more brilliant by the -limpid blueness of the sky and the frosty dryness -of the air. On approaching the house, however, -one was reassured by the perfect arrangements of -the party; for the conflagration was but the glare -of the even white light rising to the eaves of the -nearer houses, that rendered visible, as distinctly -as by day, the names in gold upon the different -public buildings—“Mayory of the Seventh -District,” “Ministry of Posts and Telegraphs,” -fading off in Bengal flames and fairylike illumination -among the branches of some big and leafless -trees.</p> - -<p>Among those who lingered notwithstanding the -chill wind and formed a hedge of curious gazers -near the hotel gates was a little pale shadow with -awkward, ducklike gait, wrapped from head to foot -in a long peasant’s cloak, which allowed nothing -of her but two piercing eyes to be visible. She -walked up and down, bent with the cold, her teeth -chattering, but insensible to the biting frost in the -fever and intoxication of her excitement. Occasionally -she would rush at some carriage in the -row advancing slowly up the Rue de Grenelle -with a luxurious noise of jingling harness and -champing bits of impatient horses, where dainty<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span> -forms clad in white were dimly seen behind the -misty carriage windows. Then she would return -to the entrance where the privilege of a special -ticket allowed the carriage of some dignitary to -break the line and enter. She pushed the people -aside: “Excuse me—just let me look a -moment.” Under the blaze from the lamp-stands -built in the form of yew trees, under the striped -awning of the marquees, the carriage doors, opening -with a bang, discharged upon the carpets their -freight of rustling satin, billowy tulle and glowing -flowers.</p> - -<p>The little figure leaned eagerly forward and -hardly withdrew herself quickly enough to avoid -being crushed by the next carriage to come on.</p> - -<p>Audiberte was determined to see for herself -how such an entertainment was managed. How -proudly she gazed on this crowd and these lights, -the soldiers ahorse and afoot, the police and these -brilliant goings-on, all this part of Paris turned -topsy-turvy in honor of Valmajour’s tabor! For -it was being given in his honor and she was sure -that his name was on the lips of all these fine and -beautiful gentlemen and ladies. From the front -entrance on Grenelle Street she rushed to that on -Bellechasse Street, through which the empty carriages -drove out; there she mingled with the civic -guards and the coachmen in immense coats with -capes round a <i>brasero</i> flaming in the middle of the -street, and was astonished to hear these people talking -of every-day matters, the sharp cold of that -winter, potatoes freezing in the cellars, of things<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span> -absolutely foreign to the function and her brother. -The slowness of the crawling line of carriages -particularly irritated her; she longed to see the -last one drive up and be able to say: “Ready at -last! Now it will begin. This time it is really -commencing.”</p> - -<p>But with the deepening of the night the cold -became more penetrating; she could have cried -with the pain of her nearly frozen feet; but it -is pretty rough to cry when one’s heart is so -happy!</p> - -<p>At last she made up her mind to go home, -after taking in all this gorgeousness in one last -look and carrying it off in her poor, savage little -head as she passed along the dismal streets -through the icy night. Her temples throbbed -with the fever of ambition and almost burst with -dreams and hopes, whilst her eyes were forever -dazzled and, as it were, blinded by that illumination -to the honor and glory of the Valmajours.</p> - -<p>But what would she have said, had she gone in, -had she seen all those drawing-rooms in white -and gold unfolding themselves in perspective beneath -their arcaded doorways, enlarged by mirrors -on which fell the flames of the chandeliers, the -wall decorations, the dazzling glitter of diamonds -and military trappings, the orders of all kinds—palm-shaped, -in tufted form, broochlike, or big as -Catherine wheels, or small as watch-charms, or -else fastened about the neck with those broad -red ribbons which make one think of bloody -decapitations!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span></p> - -<p>Pell-mell among great names belonging to the -Faubourg St. Germain there were present ministers, -generals, ambassadors, members of the Institute -and the Superior Council of the University. -Never in the arena at Aps, no, not even at -the tabor matches in Marseilles, had Valmajour -had such an audience. To tell the truth, his name -did not occupy much space at this festival which -was given in his honor. The programme was -decorated with marvellous borders from the pen of -Dalys, and certainly mentioned “Various Airs on -the Tabor” with the name of Valmajour in combination -with that of several lyrical pieces; but -people did not look at the programme. Only the -intimate friends, only those people who are acquainted -with everything that is going on, said to -the Minister as he stood to receive at the entrance -to the first drawing-room:</p> - -<p>“So you have a tabor-player?” And he answered, -with his thoughts elsewhere:</p> - -<p>“Yes, a whim of the ladies.”</p> - -<p>He was not thinking much of poor Valmajour -that evening, but of another appearance much -more important to him. What would people say? -Would she be a success? Had not the interest -he had taken in the child made him exaggerate -her talent? And, very much in love, although he -would not have owned it yet to himself, bitten to -the bone by the absorbing passion of an elderly -man, he felt all the anxiety of the father, husband, -lover or milliner of a <i>débutante</i>, one of those -sorrowful anxieties such as one often sees in somebody<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span> -restlessly wandering behind the scenes on -the night of a first representation. That did not -prevent him from being amiable, warm and meeting -his guests with both hands outstretched; and -what guests, <i>boun Diou!</i> nor from simpering, -smiling, neighing, prancing, throwing back his -body, twisting and bending with unfailing if somewhat -monotonous effusion—but with shades of -difference, nevertheless.</p> - -<p>Suddenly quitting, almost pushing aside, the -guest to whom he was speaking in a low voice -and promising endless favors, he flew to meet a -stately lady with crimson cheeks and authoritative -manner: “Ah, Madame la Maréchale,” and -placing in his own the august arm encased in -a twenty-button glove, he led his noble guest -through the rooms between a double row of -obsequious black coats to the concert room, -where Mme. Roumestan presided, assisted by -her sister.</p> - -<p>As he passed through the rooms on his return -he scattered kind words and hand-shakes right -and left. “Count on me! It’s a settled thing!”—or -else he threw rapidly his “How are you, -friend?”—or again, in order to warm up the -reception and put a sympathetic current flowing -through all this solemn society crowd, he would -present people to each other, throwing them -without warning into each other’s arms: “What! -you do not know each other? The Prince of -Anhalt!—M. Bos, Senator!” and never noticed -that the two men, their names hardly uttered, after<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span> -a hasty duck of the head and a “Sir”—“Sir,” -merely waited till he was gone to turn their backs -on each other with a ferocious look.</p> - -<p>Like the greater number of political antagonists, -our good Numa had relaxed and let himself out -when he had won the fight and come to power. -Without ceasing to belong to the party of moral -order, this Vendean from the South had lost his -fine ardor for the Cause, permitted his grand -hopes to slumber, and began to find that things -were not so bad after all. Why should these -savage hatreds exist between nice people? He -yearned for peace and a general indulgence. He -counted on music to operate a fusion among the -parties, his little fortnightly concerts becoming a -neutral ground for artistic and sociable enjoyment, -where the most bitterly hostile people might meet -each other and learn to esteem one another in a -spot apart from the passions and torments of -politics.</p> - -<p>That was why there was such a queer mixture -in the invitations; thence also the embarrassment -and lack of ease among the guests; therefore also -colloquies in low tones suddenly interrupted and -that curious going and coming of black coats, the -assumed interest seen in looks raised to the ceiling, -examining the gilded fluting of the panels, -the decorations of the time of the Directory, half -Louis XVI, half Empire, with bronze heads on -the upright lines of the marble chimneypieces. -People were hot and at the same time cold, as -if, one might believe, the terrible frost outside,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span> -changed by the thick walls and the wadding of -the hangings, had been converted into moral cold. -From time to time the rushing about of De Lappara -and De Rochemaure to find seats for the -ladies broke in upon the monotonous strolling -about of bored men, or else a stir was made by -the sensational entrance of the beautiful Mme. -Hubler, her hair dressed with feathers, her profile -dry like that of an indestructible doll, with a -smile like a stamped coin drawn up to her very -eyebrows—a wax doll in a hair-dresser’s window. -But the cold soon returned again.</p> - -<p>“It is the very devil to thaw out these rooms of -the Public Instruction. I am sure the ghost of -Frayssinous walks here at night.”</p> - -<p>This remark in a loud tone was made by one of -a group of young musicians gathered obsequiously -round Cadaillac, the manager of the opera, who -was sitting philosophically on a velvet couch with -his back against the statue of Molière. Very fat, -half deaf, with a bristling white moustache, his -face puffy and impenetrable, it was hard to find in -him the natty and politic young <i>impresario</i> under -whose care the “Nabob” had given his entertainments; -his eyes alone told of the Parisian joker, -his ferocious science of life, his spirit, hard as a -blackthorn with an iron ferule, toughened in the -fire of the footlights. But full and sated and content -with his place and fearful of losing it at the -end of his contract, he sheathed his claws and -talked little and especially little here; his only -criticism on this official and social comedy being<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span> -a laugh as silent and inscrutable as that of Leather-Stocking.</p> - -<p>“Boissaric, my good fellow,” he asked in a low -voice of an ambitious young Toulousian who had -just had a ballet accepted at the opera after only -ten years of waiting—a thing nobody could believe—“you -who know everything, tell me who that -solemn-looking man with a big moustache is who -talks familiarly to every one and walks behind his -nose with as thoughtful an air as if he were going -to the funeral of that feature: he must belong to -the shop, for he talked theatre to me as one having -authority.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think he is an actor, master, I think he -is a diplomat. I just heard him say to the Belgian -Minister that he had been his colleague a long -time.”</p> - -<p>“You are mistaken, Boissaric. He must be a -foreign general; only a moment ago I heard him -perorating in a crowd of big epaulettes and he -was saying: ‘Unless one has commanded a large -body of men—’”</p> - -<p>“Strange!”</p> - -<p>They asked Lappara, who happened to pass; -he laughed.</p> - -<p>“Why, it’s Bompard!”</p> - -<p>“<i>Quès aco Bompard?</i>” (Who is this Bompard?)</p> - -<p>“A friend of Roumestan’s. How is it you have -never met him?”</p> - -<p>“Is he from the South?”</p> - -<p>“<i>Té!</i> I should say so!”</p> - -<p>In truth, Bompard, buttoned tightly into a grand<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span> -new suit with a velvet collar, his gloves thrust into -his waistcoat, was really trying to help his friend -in the entertainment of his guests by a varied but -continuous conversation. Quite unknown in the -official world, where he appeared to-day for the first -time, he may be said to have made a sensation as -he carried his faculty for invention from group to -group, telling his marvellous visions, his stories of -royal love affairs, adventures and combats, triumphs -at the Federal shooting-matches in Switzerland, -all of which produced the same effects upon -his audience—astonishment, embarrassment and -disquiet. Here at least there was an element of -gayety, but it was only for a few intimates who -knew him. Nothing could dispel the cloud of -<i>ennui</i> that penetrated even into the concert room, -a large and very picturesque apartment with its two -tiers of galleries and its glass ceiling that gave the -impression of being under the open sky.</p> - -<p>A decoration of green palms and banana-trees, -whose long leaves hung motionless in the light -of the chandeliers, made a fresh background to -the toilettes of the women sitting on numberless -rows of chairs placed close together. It was a -wave of white moving necks, arms and shoulders -rising from their bodices like half-opened flowers, -heads dressed with jewelled stars, diamonds flashing -against the blue depths of black tresses or -waves of gold from the locks of blondes; a mass -of lovely figures in profile, full of health, with -lines of beauty from waist to throat, or fine slender -forms, from a narrow waist clasped by a little jewelled<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span> -buckle up to a long neck circled with velvet. -Fans of all colors, bright with spangles, shot with -hues, danced in butterfly lightness over all and -mingled the perfumes of “white rose” or opoponax -with the feeble breath of white lilacs and -natural fresh violets.</p> - -<p>The bored expression on the faces of the guests -was deeper here as they reflected that for two mortal -hours they must sit thus before the platform on -which was spread out in a semicircular row the -chorus, the men in black coats, the women in -white muslin, impassive as if sitting in front of a -camera, while the orchestra was concealed behind -copses of green leaves and roses, out of which the -arms of the bass-viols reared themselves like instruments -of torture. Oh, the torment of the -“music stocks”! All of them knew it, for it was -one of the cruelest fatigues of the season and of -their worldly burden. That is why, looking everywhere, -the only happy, smiling face to be found in -the immense room was that of Mme. Roumestan—not -that ballet-dancer’s smile, common to professional -hostesses, which so easily changes to a look -of angry fatigue when no one is watching. Hers -was the face of a happy woman, a woman loved, -just starting on a new life.</p> - -<p>O, the endless tenderness of an honest soul which -has never throbbed but for one person! She had -begun to believe again in her Numa; he had been -so kind and tender for some time back. It was -like a return; it seemed as if their two hearts were -closely knit again after a long parting. Without<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span> -asking whence came this renewal of affection in -her husband, she found him loverlike and young -once more, as he was the night that she showed -him the panel of the hunt; and she herself was -still the same fair young Diana, supple and charming -in her frock of white brocade, her fair hair -simply banded on her brow, so pure and without -an evil thought, looking five years younger than -her thirty summers!</p> - -<p>Hortense was very pretty to-night also; all in -blue—blue tulle that enveloped her slender figure -like a cloud and lent a soft shade to her brunette -face. She was much preoccupied with the début -of her musician. She wondered how the spoiled -Parisians would like this music from the provinces -and whether, as Rosalie had said, the tabor-player -ought not to be framed in a landscape of gray -olive-trees and hills that look like lace. Silently, -though very anxious in the rustle of fans, conversations -in low voice and the tuning of the instruments, -she counted the pieces that must come -before Valmajour appeared.</p> - -<p>A blow from the leader with his bow on his -desk, a rustling of paper on the platform as the -chorus rises, music in hand, a long look of the victims -toward the high doorway clogged with black -coats, as if yearning to flee, and the first notes of -a choral by Glück ring through the room and soar -upward to the glassy ceiling where the winter’s -night lays its blue sheets of cold.</p> - -<p>“<i>Ah, dans ce bois funeste et sombre....</i>”</p> - -<p>The concert has begun.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span></p> - -<p>The taste for music has increased greatly in -France within the last few years. Particularly in -Paris, the Sunday concerts and those given during -Holy Week, and the numberless musical clubs, -have aroused the public taste and made the works -of the great masters known to all, making a musical -education the fashion. But at bottom Paris is -too full of life, too given over to intellect, really to -love music, that absorbing goddess who holds you -motionless without voice or thought in a floating -web of harmony, and hypnotizes you like the -ocean; in Paris the follies that are done in her -name are like those committed by a fop for a -mistress who is the fashion; it is a passion of <i>chic</i>, -played to the gallery, commonplace and hollow to -the point of <i>ennui!</i></p> - -<p><i>Ennui!</i></p> - -<p>Yes, boredom was the prevailing note of this -concert at the Ministry of Public Instruction. -Beneath that forced admiration, that expression of -simulated ecstasy which belongs to the worldly -side of the sincerest woman, the look of boredom -rose higher and higher; there soon appeared unmistakable -signs that dimmed the brilliant smile -and shining eyes and changed completely their -charming, languishing poses, like the motion of -birds upon the branches or when sipping water -drop by drop. On the long rows of endless chairs -these fine ladies, one woman after the other, would -make their fight, trying to reanimate themselves -with cries of “Bravo! Divine! Delicious!” and -then, one after another, would succumb to the rising<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span> -torpor which ascended like the mists above a -sounding sea, driving far away into the distance -of indifference all the artists who defiled before -them one by one.</p> - -<p>And yet the most famous and illustrious artists -of Paris were there, interpreting classical music -with all the scientific exactness it demands, which, -alas, cannot be acquired save at the expense of -years. Why, it is thirty years now that Mme. -Vauters has been singing that beautiful romanza -of Beethoven “L’Apaisement,” and yet never has -she done it with more passion than this evening. -But it seems as if strings were lacking to the -instrument; one can hear the bow scraping on the -violin. And behold! of the great singer of former -days and of that famous classical beauty there -remains nothing else but well studied attitudes, an -irreproachable method and that long white hand -which at the last stanza brushes aside a tear from -the corner of her eye, made deep with charcoal—a -tear that translates a sob which her voice can no -longer render.</p> - -<p>What singer save Mayol, handsome Mayol, has -ever sighed forth the serenade from “Don Juan” -with such ethereal delicacy—that passion which is -like the love of a dragon-fly? Unfortunately people -don’t hear it any longer. There is no use for -him to rise atiptoe with outstretched neck and -draw out the note to its very end, while accompanying -it with the easy gesture of a yarn-spinner -seizing her wool with two fingers—nothing comes -out, nothing! Paris is grateful for pleasures which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span> -are past and applauds all the same; but these -used-up voices, these withered and too well-known -faces, medals whose design has been gradually -eaten away by passing from hand to hand, can -never dissipate the heavy fog which infests the -Minister’s party. No, notwithstanding every effort -which Roumestan makes to enliven it, notwithstanding -the enthusiastic bravos which he hurls -in his loudest voice into the phalanx of black -coats, nor the “Hush!” with which he frightens -people who attempt to converse two apartments -away, and who thereafter prowl about silent as -spectres in that strong illumination and change -their places with every precaution in the hopes of -finding some distraction, their backs rounded and -their arms swinging—or fall completely crushed -upon the low arm-chairs, their opera hats suspended -between their legs—idiotic and with faces empty -of expression!</p> - -<p>At one time, it is true, the appearance of Alice -Bachellery on the stage wakes up and enlivens the -audience; a struggling bunch of curious people -assails each of the two doors of the hall in order to -see the little diva in her short skirt on the platform, -her mouth half open and her long lashes quivering -as if with surprise at seeing all this multitude.</p> - -<p>“<i>Chaud! chaud! les p’tits pains d’ gruau!</i>” -hum the young club-men as they imitate the low-lived -gesture that accompanies the end of her -refrain. Old gentlemen belonging to the University -approach, trembling all over, and turning their -good ear toward her, in order not to lose a bit<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span> -of the fashionable vulgarity. So there is a disappointment -when, in her somewhat shrill and -limited voice, the little pastry-cook’s boy begins -to produce one of the grand airs from “Alceste,” -prompted by Mme. Vauters, who is encouraging -her from the flies. Then the faces fall and the -black coats disperse and begin once more their -wandering with all the more freedom, now that the -Minister is not watching them; for he has slipped -off to the end of the last drawing-room on the arm -of M. de Boë, who is quite stunned by the honor -accorded him.</p> - -<p>Eternal infancy of Love! What though you may -have twenty years of law at the Palace of Justice -behind you and fifteen years on the Bench; what -though you may be sufficiently master of yourself -to preserve in the midst of the most agitated -assemblies and most ferocious interruptions the -fixed idea and the cold-bloodedness of a gull that -is fishing in the heart of a storm—nevertheless, if -passion shall once enter into your life, you will find -yourself the feeblest among the feeble, trembling -and cowardly to the point of hanging desperately -to the arm of some fool, rather than listen bravely -to the slightest criticism of your idol.</p> - -<p>“Excuse me—I must leave you—here is the -<i>entr’acte</i>—” and the Minister hurries away, casting -the young <i>maître des requêtes</i> back into that -original obscurity of his from which he shall -never emerge again. The crowd struggles toward -the sideboards; the relieved expression on the -faces of all these unfortunate listeners, who have at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span> -last regained the right to move and speak, is sufficient -to make Numa believe that his little <i>protégée</i> -has just won a tremendous success. People press -about him and felicitate him—“Divine! Delicious!” -But there is nobody to talk positively to -him about the thing that interests him, so that at -last he grabs hold of Cadaillac, who is passing near -him, walking sidewise and splitting the human -stream with his enormous shoulder as a lever.</p> - -<p>“Well? well? How did you like her?”</p> - -<p>“Why, whom do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“The little girl,” said Numa in a tone which he -tries to make perfectly indifferent. The other man, -who is good enough at fencing, comprehends at -once and says without blenching:</p> - -<p>“A revelation!”</p> - -<p>The lover flushes up as if he were twenty years -old—as when, at the Café Malmus, “everybody’s -old girl” pressed his foot under the table.</p> - -<p>“Then—you think that at the opera—?”</p> - -<p>“No sort of question!—but she would have to -have a good one to put her on the stage,” said -Cadaillac with his silent laugh. And while the -Minister rushes off to congratulate Mlle. Alice, -the “good one to put her on the stage” continues -his march in the direction of the buffet -which can be seen, framed by an enormous mirror -without a border, at the end of a drawing-room which -is all brown and gilded woodwork. Notwithstanding -the severity of the hangings and the impudent -and pompous air of the butlers, who are certainly -chosen from University men who have missed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span> -their examination, at this spot the nasty tempers -and boredom have disappeared in front of the -enormous counter crammed with delicate glasses, -fruits and pyramids of sandwiches; humanity has -regained its rights and these evil looks give way to -attitudes of desire and voracity. Through the -narrowest space that remains open between two -busts or between two heads bending over toward -the bit of salmon or chicken wing on their little -plate, an arm intrudes, attempting to seize a -tumbler or fork or roll of bread, scraping off rice -powder on shoulders or on a black sleeve or a -brilliant, crude uniform. People chatter and grow -animated, eyes glitter, laughter rises under the -influence of the foaming wines. A thousand bits -of speech cross each other—interrupted remarks, -answers to questions already forgotten. In one -corner one hears little screams of indignation: -“What a brute! How disgusting!” about the -scientist Béchut, that enemy of women, who is -going on reviling the weaker sex. Then a quarrel -among musicians. “But, my dear fellow, beware—you -are denying altogether the increase of the -<i>quinte</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Is it really true she is only sixteen?”</p> - -<p>“Sixteen years of the cask and some few extra -years of the bottle.”</p> - -<p>“Mayol!—O, come now! Mayol!—finished, -empty! and to think that the opera gives two -thousand francs every night to that thing!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but he has to spend a thousand francs of -seats to get his auditorium warm, and then, on the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span> -sly, Cadaillac gets all the rest of it away from him -playing écarté.”</p> - -<p>“Bordeaux!—chocolate!—champagne!—”</p> - -<p>“—will have to come and explain himself before -the commission.”</p> - -<p>“—by raising the ruche a little with bows of -white satin.”</p> - -<p>In another part of the house Mlle. Le Quesnoy, -closely surrounded by friends, recommends -her tabor player to a foreign correspondent with -an impudent head as flat as that of a <i>choumacre</i> -and begs him not to leave before the end of the -play; she scolds Méjean, who is not supporting -her properly, and calls him a false Southerner, a -<i>franciot</i> and a renegade. In the group near by a -political discussion has started. One mouth opens -in a hateful way with foam about the teeth and says, -chewing on the words as if they were musket balls -and he would like to poison them:</p> - -<p>“Whatever exists in the most destructive of -demagogies—”</p> - -<p>“—Marat the conservative!” said a voice—but -the rest of the sentence was lost in a confused -noise of conversations mixed with clattering of -plates and glasses, which the coppery tones of -Roumestan’s voice all of a sudden dominated: -“Ladies! hurry, ladies!—or you will miss the -sonata in <i>fa!</i>”</p> - -<p>There is a silence as of the dead. Then the long -procession of trailing trains begins to cross the -drawing-room and settle itself once more into the -rows of chairs. The women have that despairing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span> -face one sees on captives who are returned to prison -after an hour’s walk in the open fields. And so -the concertos and symphonies follow each other, -note after note. Handsome Mayol begins again -to draw out that intangible note of his and Mme. -Vauters to touch again the loosened cords of her -voice. All of a sudden a sign of life appears, a movement -of curiosity, just as it was a little while ago -when the small Mlle. Bachellery made her entrance. -It is the tabor-player Valmajour, the apparition of -that proud peasant, his soft felt hat over one ear, his -red belt around his waist and his plainsman’s jacket -on one shoulder. It was an idea of Audiberte’s, -an instinct in her natural feminine taste, to dress -him in this way in order to give him greater effect -in the midst of all the black coats. Well, well, at -last, this at least is new and unexpected—this long -tabor which hangs to the arm of the musician, the -little fife on which his fingers move hither and yon, -and the charming airs to the double music whose -movement, rousing and lively, gives a moire-like -shiver of awakening to the satin of those lovely -shoulders! That worn-out public is delighted with -these songs of morning, so fresh and embalmed -with country fragrances—these ballads of Old -France.</p> - -<p>“Bravo! Bravo! Encore!”</p> - -<p>And when, with a large and victorious rhythm -which the orchestra accompanies in a low note, he -attacks the “March of Turenne,” deepening and -supporting his somewhat shrill instrument, the success -is wild. He has to come back twice, ten times,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span> -being applauded first of all by Numa, whom this -solitary success has warmed completely and who -now takes credit to himself for this “fancy of the -ladies.” He tells them how he discovered this -genius, explains the great mystery of the fife with -three holes and gives various details concerning -the ancient castle of the Valmajours.</p> - -<p>“Then he really is called Valmajour?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly—belongs to the Princes des Baux—he -is the last of the line.”</p> - -<p>And so this legend starts, scatters, expands, -enlarges and becomes at last a regular novel by -George Sand.</p> - -<p>“I have the <i>parshemints</i> at my house,” corroborates -Bompard in a tone which permits of no -question.</p> - -<p>But in the midst of all this worldly enthusiasm -more or less fabricated there is one little heart -which is moved, one young head which is completely -intoxicated and takes all these bravos and fables -seriously. Without speaking a word, without even -applauding, her eyes fixed and lost, her long, supple -figure following in the balancing motion of a dream -the bars of the heroic march, Hortense finds herself -once more down there in Provence on the high -terrace overlooking the sun-baked plain, whilst her -musician plays for her a morning greeting, as if to -one of those ladies in the Courts of Love, and then -sticks her pomegranate flower on his tabor with a -savage grace. This recollection moves her delightfully, -and leaning her head on her sister’s -shoulder she murmurs very low: “O, how happy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span> -I am!” uttering it with a deep and true accent -which Rosalie does not notice at once, but which -later on shall become more definite in her memory -and shall haunt her like the stammered news of -some misfortune.</p> - -<p>“<i>Eh! bé!</i> My good Valmajour, didn’t I tell -you? What a success!—eh?” cried Roumestan -in the little drawing-room where a stand-up -supper was being served for the performers. As -to this success, the other stars of the concert considered -it a bit exaggerated. Mme. Vauters, who -was seated in readiness to leave while she waited -for her carriage, concealed her spite in a great big -cape of lace filled with violent perfumes, while -handsome Mayol, standing in front of the buffet, -showing in his back his slack nerves and weariness -by a peculiar gesture, tore to pieces with the greatest -ferocity a poor little plover and imagined that -he had the tabor-player under his knife. But little -Bachellery did not stoop to any such bad temper. -In the midst of a group of young fops, laughing, fluttering -and digging her little white teeth into a ham -sandwich, like a schoolboy assailed by the hunger -of a growing child, she played her game of infancy. -She tried to make music on Valmajour’s fife.</p> - -<p>“Just see, M’sieur le ministre!”</p> - -<p>Then, noticing Cadaillac behind his Excellency, -with a sharp twirl of her feet she advanced her -forehead like that of a little girl for him to kiss.</p> - -<p>“Howdy, uncle!—”</p> - -<p>It was a relationship purely fantastic such as they -adopt behind the scenes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span></p> - -<p>“What a make-believe madcap!” grunted the -“right man to put one on the stage” behind his -white moustache, but not in too loud a voice, because -in all probability she was going to become -one of his pensioners and a most influential pensioner.</p> - -<p>Valmajour stood erect before the chimneypiece -with a fatuous air, surrounded by a crowd of women -and journalists. The foreign correspondent put -his questions to him brutally, not at all in that -hypocritical tone he used when interrogating -ministers in special audiences; but, without being -troubled in the least thereby, the peasant answered -him with the stereotyped account his lips were -used to: “It all come to me in the night while I -listened me to the <i>nightingawles</i> singin’—”</p> - -<p>He was interrupted by Mlle. Le Quesnoy, who -offered him a glass of wine and a plate heaped up -with good things especially for him.</p> - -<p>“How do you do? You see this time I myself -am bringing you the <i>grand-boire</i>.” She had made -her speech for a purpose, but he answered her -with a slight nod of the head, and, pointing to the -chimneypiece, said “All right, all right, put it -down there,” and went on with his story.</p> - -<p>“So, what the birrud of the Lord could do with -one hole....” Without being discouraged, Hortense -waited to the end and then spoke to him -about his father and his sister.</p> - -<p>“She will be very much delighted, will she -not?”</p> - -<p>“O, yes; it has gone pretty well.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span></p> - -<p>With a silly smile he stroked his moustache -while looking about him with restless eyes. He -had been told that the director of the opera desired -to make him an offer and he was on the watch -for him afar, feeling even at this early moment -the jealousy of an actor and astonished that anybody -could spend so much time with that good-for-nothing -little singing-girl. Filled with his own -thoughts, he took no trouble to answer the beautiful -young girl standing before him, her fan in her -hand, in that pretty, half-audacious attitude which -the habit of society gives. But she loved him better -as he was, disdainful and cold toward everything -which was not his art; she admired him for accepting -loftily the compliments which Cadaillac poured -upon him with his off-hand roundness:</p> - -<p>“Yes, I tell you ... yes, indeed!... I tell -you exactly what I mean ... great deal of talent ... very -original, very new; I hope no other -theatre save the Opera shall have your first appearance.... I -must find some occasion to bring you -forward. From to-day on, consider yourself as -one of the House!”</p> - -<p>Valmajour thought of the paper with the government -stamp on it which he had in the pocket -of his jacket; but the other man, just as if he -divined the thought that possessed him, stretched -out his supple hand: “There, that engages us -both, my dear fellow;” and pointing out Mayol -and Mme. Vauters—who were luckily occupied -elsewhere, for they would have laughed too loud—he -continued:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span></p> - -<p>“Ask your comrades what the given word of -Cadaillac means!” At this he turned on his heel -and went back into the ball.</p> - -<p>Now it had become a party which had spread -into less crowded but more animated rooms, and -the fine orchestra was taking its revenge for three -hours of classical music by giving waltzes of the -purest Viennese variety. The lofty personages -and solemn people having left, the floors now belonged -to the young people, those maniacs of -pleasure who dance for the love of dancing and for -the intoxication of flying hair and swimming eyes -and trains whipped round about their feet. But -even then politics could not lose its rights and the -fusion dreamt of by Roumestan did not take place. -Even of the two rooms where they danced one of -them belonged to the Left Centre and the other -to the White, a flower de luce White without a -stain, in spite of the efforts Hortense made to -bind the two camps together! Much sought out -as the sister-in-law of the Minister and daughter of -the Chief Judge, she saw about her big marriage -portion and her influential connections a perfect -flock of waistcoats with their hearts outside.</p> - -<p>While dancing with her, Lappara, greatly excited, -declared that His Excellency had permitted -him—but just there the waltz ended and she left -him without listening to the rest and came toward -Méjean, who did not dance and yet could not make -up his mind to leave.</p> - -<p>“What a face you make, most solemn man, -man most reasonable!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span></p> - -<p>He took her by the hand: “Sit down here; I -have something to say to you—by the authority -of my Minister—”</p> - -<p>Very much overcome, he smiled, and while -noting the trembling of his lips Hortense understood -and rose very quickly.</p> - -<p>“No, no, not this evening—I can listen to -nothing—I am dancing—”</p> - -<p>She flew away on the arm of Rochemaure, who -had just come to fetch her for the cotillion. He -too was very much taken; just in order to imitate -Lappara, the good young fellow ventured to pronounce -a word which caused her to break out in a -gale of gayety that went whirling with her round -the entire room, and when the shawl figure was -finished she went over toward her sister and whispered -in her ear:</p> - -<p>“Here we are in a nice mess! Here is Numa, -who has promised me to each of his three secretaries!”</p> - -<p>“Which one are you going to take?”</p> - -<p>Her answer was cut short by the rolling of the -tabor.</p> - -<p>“The farandole! The farandole!”</p> - -<p>It was a surprise for his guests from the Minister—the -farandole to close the cotillion—the -South to the last go! and so—<i>zou!</i> But how do -people dance it? Hands meet each other and -join and the two dancing-rooms come together -this time. Bompard gravely explains: “This is -the way, young ladies,” and he cuts a caper.</p> - -<p>And then, with Hortense at its head, the farandole<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span> -unrolls itself across the long rows of rooms, -followed by Valmajour playing with a superb -solemnity, proud of his success and of the looks -which his masculine and robust figure in that original -costume earn for him.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t he beautiful!” cried Roumestan, “isn’t -he handsome! a regular Greek shepherd!”</p> - -<p>From room to room the rustic dance, more and -more crowded and lively, follows and chases the -spectre of Frayssinous. Reawakened to life by -these airs from the ancient time, the figures on -the great tapestries, copied from the pictures of -Boucher and Lancret, agitate themselves and the -little naked backs of the cupids who are rolling -about along the frieze take on a movement in the -eyes of the dancers as of a rushing hunt as wild -and crazy as their own.</p> - -<p>Away down there at the end of the vista Cadaillac -has edged up to the buffet with a plate and a -glass of wine in his hand; he listens, eats and -drinks, penetrated to the very centre of his scepticism -by that sudden heat of joy:</p> - -<p>“Just remember this, my boy,” said he to Boissaric, -“you must always remain to the end at a -ball. The women are prettier in their moist -pallor, which does not reach the point of fatigue -any more than that little white line there at the -windows has reached the point of being daylight. -There is a little music in the air, some dust that -smells nicely, a semi-intoxication which refines a -sensation and which one ought to savor as one -eats a hot chicken wing washed down with champagne<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span> -frappé.—There! just look at that, will -you.”</p> - -<p>Behind the big mirror without a frame the farandole -was lengthening out, with all arms stretched, -into a chain alternate of black and light notes softened -by the disorder of the toilets and hair and the -mussiness that comes from two hours’ dancing.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t that pretty, eh?—And the bully boy -at the end there, isn’t he smart!” Then he -added coldly, as he put down his glass:</p> - -<p>“All the same, he will never make a cent.”</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.<br> - -<span class="smaller">THE NORTH AND THE SOUTH.</span></h2> -</div> - - - -<p class="chapfirst">There never had been any great sympathy between -President Le Quesnoy and his son-in-law. -The lapse of time, frequent intercourse and the -bonds of relationship had not been able to narrow -the gap between these two natures, or to vanquish -the intimidating coolness which the Provençal felt -in the presence of this big, silent man, with his pale -and haughty face, from whose height a steely-gray -look, which was the look of Rosalie without her -tenderness and indulgence, fell upon his lively -nature with freezing effect. Numa, with his mobile -and floating nature, always overwhelmed by his -own conversation, at one and the same time a fiery -and a complicated nature, was in a state of constant -revolt against the logic, the uprightness, the -rigidity of his father-in-law. And while he envied -him these qualities, he placed them to the credit -of the coldness of nature in this man of the North, -that extreme North which the President represented -to him.</p> - -<p>“Beyond him, there’s the wild polar bear—beyond -that, nothing at all—the north pole and -death.”</p> - -<p>All the same he flattered the President, endeavored -to cajole him with adroit, feline tricks, which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span> -were his baits to catch the Gaul. But the Gaul, -subtler than he was himself, would not permit -himself to be taken in, and on Sunday, in the -dining-room at the Place Royale, at the moment -when politics were discussed, whenever Numa, -softened by the good dinner, attempted to make -old Le Quesnoy believe that in reality the two -were very close to an understanding, because both -wanted the same thing, namely, liberty—it was -a sight to see the indignant toss of the head with -which the President penetrated his armor.</p> - -<p>“Oh! Not at all, not the same by any means!”</p> - -<p>In half-a-dozen clear-cut, hard arguments, he -established the distances between them, unmasked -fine phrases and showed that he was not the man -to be taken in by their humbuggery. Then the -lawyer got out of the affair by joking, though -extremely angry at bottom and particularly on -account of his wife, who looked on and listened -without ever mixing herself up with political talk. -But then in the evening, while going home in the -carriage, he took great pains to prove to her that -her father was lacking in common-sense. Ah! -if it had not been for her presence, how finely he -would have put the President to his trumps! In -order not to irritate him, Rosalie avoided taking -part with either.</p> - -<p>“Yes, it is unfortunate—you don’t understand -each other....” But in her own heart she agreed -with the President.</p> - -<p>When Roumestan arrived at a Minister’s portfolio -the coolness between the two men only became<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span> -greater. M. Le Quesnoy refused to show -himself at his son-in-law’s receptions in the Rue -de Grenelle and he explained the matter very -precisely to his daughter.</p> - -<p>“Now, please tell your husband this—let him -continue to visit me here, and as often as possible; -I shall be most delighted. But you must not -expect ever to see me at the Ministry. I know -well enough what those people are preparing for -us: I don’t want to have the appearance of being -an accomplice.”</p> - -<p>After all, the situation between them was saved -in the eyes of society by that heartfelt sorrow, -that mourning of the heart, which had imprisoned -the Le Quesnoys in their own home for so many -years. Probably the Minister of Public Instruction -would have been very much embarrassed to -feel the presence in his drawing-room of that -sturdy old contradictor, in whose presence he -always remained a little boy. Still, he made -believe to appear wounded by that decision; he -struck an attitude on account of it, a thing which -is very precious to an actor, and he found a pretext -for not coming to the Sunday dinners except -very irregularly, making as a plea one of those -thousand excuses, engagements, meetings, political -banquets, which offer so wide a liberty to husbands -in politics.</p> - -<p>Rosalie, on the contrary, never missed a Sunday, -arriving early in the afternoon, delighted to find -again in the home circle of her parents that taste -of the family which her official life hardly permitted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span> -her the leisure to satisfy. Mme. Le Quesnoy -being still at vespers and Hortense at church with -her mother, or carried off to some musical matinée -by friends, she was always certain to find her father -in his library, a long room crammed from top to -bottom with books. There he was, shut in with his -silent friends, his intellectual intimates, the only -ones with whom his sorrow had never found fault. -The President did not seat himself to read; he -passed the shelves in review, stopping in front of -some finely bound books; standing there, unconscious -what he did, he would read for an hour at -a time without recognizing the passage of time or -that he was weary. When he saw his eldest daughter -enter, he would give a pale smile. After a few -words were exchanged, because neither one nor the -other was exactly garrulous, she also passed in -review her beloved authors, choosing and turning -over the leaves of some book in his immediate -neighborhood in that somewhat dusky light of the -big courtyard in the Marais, where the bells, sounding -vespers near by, fell in heavy notes amidst the -stillness that Sunday brings to the commercial -quarters of a city. Sometimes he gave her an -open book:</p> - -<p>“Read that!” and put his finger under a passage; -and when she had read it:</p> - -<p>“That’s fine, is it not?”</p> - -<p>There was no greater pleasure for that young -woman, to whom life was offering whatever there -was of brilliant and luxuriant things, than the hour -passed beside that mournful and aged father in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span> -whom her daughterly adoration was raised to a -double power by other and intimate bonds altogether -intellectual.</p> - -<p>It was to him she owed the uprightness of her -thought and that feeling for justice which made -her so courageous; to him also her taste for the -fine arts, her love of painting and of fine poetry—because -with Le Quesnoy the continuous pettifoggery -of the law had not succeeded in ossifying -the man in him.</p> - -<p>Rosalie loved her mother and venerated her, not -without some little revolt against a nature which -was too simple, too gentle, annihilated as it were -in her own home; a nature which sorrow, that -elevates certain souls, had crushed to the earth -and forced into the most ordinary feminine occupations—into -practical piety, into housekeeping -in its smallest details. Although she was younger -than her husband, she appeared to be the elder of -the two, judged by her old woman’s talk; she was -like one rendered old and sorrowful, who searched -all the warm corners of her memory and all the -souvenirs of her infancy in a land hot with the sun -of Provence. But above all things the church had -taken possession of her; since the death of her -son she was in the habit of going to church in -order to put her sorrow to slumber in the silent -freshness and half-light and half-noise of the lofty -naves, as though it were in the peace of a cloister -barred by heavy double gates against the roar -of the outer life. This she did with that devout -and cowardly egotism of sorrows which kneel upon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span> -a <i>prie-Dieu</i> and are released from all anxieties and -duties.</p> - -<p>Rosalie, who was a young girl already at the -moment of their mishap, had been struck by the -very different way in which her parents suffered. -Mme. Le Quesnoy, renouncing everything, was -steeped in a tearful religion, but Le Quesnoy set -out to obtain strength from daily work accomplished. -Her tender preference for her father arose -in her through the exercise of her reason. Marriage, -life in common with all the exaggerations, lies and -lunacies of her Southerner, caused her to feel the -shelter of the silent library all the more pleasantly -because it was a change from the grandiose, cold -and official interior of the Ministry. In the midst -of their quiet chat, the noise of a door was heard, a -rustling of silk, and Hortense would enter.</p> - -<p>“Ah, ha! I knew I should find you here!”</p> - -<p>She did not love to read, Hortense did not. -Even novels bored her; they were never romantic -enough to suit her exalted frame of mind. After -running up and down for about five minutes with -her bonnet on, she would cry:</p> - -<p>“How these old books and papers do smell -stuffy! Don’t you find it so, Rosalie? Come on, -come a little with me! Papa has had you long -enough. Now it’s my turn.”</p> - -<p>And so she would carry her off to her bedroom, -their bedroom; for Rosalie also had used it until -she was twenty years old.</p> - -<p>There, during an hour of delightful chat, she -saw about her all those things which had been a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span> -part of herself—her bed with cretonne curtains, -her desk, her étagère, her library, where a bit of -her childhood still lingered about the titles of the -volumes and about the thousand childish things -preserved with all due devotion. Here she found -again her old thoughts lying about the corners -of that young girl’s bedroom, more coquettish and -ornamented, it is true, than it was in her time. -There was a rug on the floor; a night lamp in the -shape of a flower hung from the ceiling and fragile -little tables stood about for sewing or writing, -against which one knocked at every step; there -was more elegance and less order. Two or three -pieces of work begun were hanging over the backs -of the chairs and the open desk showed a windy -scattering of note-paper with monograms. When -you entered there was always a minute or two of -trouble.</p> - -<p>“O, it’s the wind,” said Hortense with a peal -of laughter. “The wind knows I adore him; he -must have come to see if I was at home.”</p> - -<p>“They must have left the window open,” answered -Rosalie quietly. “How can you live in -such an interior? For my part I am not able to -think if anything is out of place.”</p> - -<p>She rose to straighten the frame of a picture -fastened to the wall; it irritated her eyes, which -were as exact as her nature.</p> - -<p>“O, well! it’s just the contrary with me. It -puts me in form. It seems to me that I am -travelling.”</p> - -<p>This difference in their natures was reflected<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span> -on the faces of the two sisters. Rosalie had regular -features with great purity in their lines, calm -eyes of a color changing constantly like that of a -deep lake; the other’s features were very irregular, -her expression clever, her complexion the pale tint -of a Creole woman. There were the North and -the South in the father and the mother, two very -different temperaments which had united without -merging together; each was perpetuating its own -race in one of the children, and all this, notwithstanding -the life in common, the similar education -in a great boarding-school for young girls, where, -under the same masters, and only a few years later, -Hortense was taking up the scholastic tradition -which had made of her sister an attentive, serious -woman, always ready to the minute, absorbed in -her smallest acts. That same education had left -her tumultuous, fantastic, unsteady of soul and -always in a hurry. Sometimes, when she saw her -so agitated, Rosalie cried out:</p> - -<p>“I must say I am very lucky; I have no -imagination.”</p> - -<p>“As for me, I haven’t anything else,” said -Hortense; and she reminded her how at boarding -school, when M. Baudouy was given the task of -teaching them style and the development of -thought, during that course which he pompously -termed his imagination class, Rosalie had never -had any success, because she expressed everything -in a few concise words, whereas she, on the -other hand, given an idea as big as your nail, was -able to blacken whole volumes with print.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span></p> - -<p>“That’s the only prize I ever got—the imagination -prize!”</p> - -<p>Despite it all they were a tenderly united couple, -bound to each other by one of those affections -between an elder and a younger sister into which -an element of the filial and maternal enters. Rosalie -took her about with her everywhere, to balls, -to her friends’ houses, on her shopping trips in -which the taste of Parisian women is exercised; -even after leaving the boarding-school she remained -her younger sister’s little mother. And -now she is occupying herself with getting her -married, with finding for her some quiet and trustworthy -companion, indispensable for such a madcap -as she is, the powerful arm which is needed -to offset her enthusiasms.</p> - -<p>It was plain that the man she meant was -Méjean; but Hortense, who at first did not say -no, suddenly showed an evident antipathy. They -had a long talk about it the day following the -ministerial reception, when Rosalie had detected -the emotion and trouble of her sister.</p> - -<p>“O, he is kind and I like him well enough,” -said Hortense, “he is one of those loyal friends -such as one would like to have about one all one’s -life; but that is not the sort of husband that will -do for me.”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“You will laugh at me. He does not appeal to -my imagination enough; there it is! A marriage -with him—why it makes me think of the house of -a burgher, right-angled and stiff, at the end of an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span> -alley of trees which stand as straight as the letter -I; and you know well enough that I love something -else—the unexpected, surprises—”</p> - -<p>“Well, who then? M. de Lappara?”</p> - -<p>“Thank you! In order that I should be just -a wee bit preferred to his tailor?”</p> - -<p>“M. de Rochemaure?”</p> - -<p>“What, that model red-tapist?—and I who have -a perfect horror of red tape!”</p> - -<p>And when the disquiet which Rosalie showed -pushed her to the wall, for she wished to know -everything and interrogated her closely:</p> - -<p>“What I should like to do,” said the young -girl, while a faint flame like a fire in straw rose -into the pallor of her complexion, “what I should -like to do—” Then in a changed voice and -with an expression of fun:</p> - -<p>“I should like to marry Bompard! Yes, Bompard; -he is the husband of my dreams—at any -rate he has imagination, that fellow, and some -resources against deadly dulness!”</p> - -<p>She rose to her feet and passed up and down -the room with that gait, a little inclined over, -which made her seem even taller than her figure -warranted. People did not recognize Bompard’s -worth; but what pride and what dignity of existence -were his, and, with all his craziness, what -logic!</p> - -<p>“Numa wanted to give him a place in the office -close to him; but he would not take it, he preferred -to live in honor of his chimera. And -people actually accuse the South of France of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span> -being practical and industrious!—but there is the -man to give that legend the lie. Why, look -here—he was telling me this the other night at -the ball—he is going to brood out ostrich eggs—an -artificial brood machine—he is positive -that he will make millions,—and he is far more -happy than if he had those millions! Why, it -is a perpetual life in fairy-land with a man of that -sort. Let them give me Bompard; I want nobody -but Bompard!”</p> - -<p>“Well, well, I see I shall learn nothing more -to-day either,” said the big sister to herself, who -divined underneath these lively sallies something -deep down below.</p> - -<p>One Sunday when she reached her old home -Rosalie found Mme. Le Quesnoy awaiting her in -the vestibule, who told her with an air of mystery:</p> - -<p>“There’s somebody in the drawing-room—a -lady from the South.”</p> - -<p>“Aunt Portal?”</p> - -<p>“You shall see—”</p> - -<p>It was not Mme. Portal, but a saucy Provençal -girl whose deep curtsy in the rustic way came to -an end in a peal of laughter.</p> - -<p>“Hortense!”</p> - -<p>Her skirt reaching to the tops of her black -shoes, her waist increased by the folds of tulle -belonging to the big scarf, her face framed among -the falling waves of hair kept in place by a little -bonnet made of cut velvet and embroidered with -butterflies in jet, Hortense looked very like the -<i>chatos</i> whom one sees on Sunday practising their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span> -coquetries on the Tilting Field at Arles, or else -walking, two and two, with lowered lashes, through -the pretty columns of St. Trophyme cloisters, -whose denticulated architecture goes very well -with those ruddy Saracen reds and with the ivory -color of the church in which a flame of a consecrated -candle trembles in the full daylight.</p> - -<p>“Just see how pretty she is!” said her mother, -standing in ecstasy before that lively personification -of the land of her youthful days. Rosalie, -on the other hand, shuddered with an inexplicable -sadness, as if that costume had taken her sister -far, far away from her.</p> - -<p>“Well, that is a fantastic idea! It is very becoming -to you, but I like you far better as a -Parisian girl. And who dressed you so well?”</p> - -<p>“Audiberte Valmajour. She has just gone out.”</p> - -<p>“How often she comes here!” said Rosalie, -going into their room to take off her bonnet. -“What a friendship it is! I shall begin to get -jealous.”</p> - -<p>Hortense excused herself, a little bit embarrassed; -this head-dress from Provence gave so -much pleasure to their mother in the sober -house.</p> - -<p>“Is it not true, mother?” cried she, going from -one room into the other. “Besides, that poor girl -feels so outlandish in Paris and is so interesting -with her blind devotion to the genius of her -brother.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! Genius, is it?” said the big sister, tossing -her head a bit.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span></p> - -<p>“What! You saw it yourself the other night -at your house, the effect it produced—everywhere -just the same thing!”</p> - -<p>And when Rosalie answered that one must estimate -at their real value these successes won in -the world of society and due to politeness, a caprice -of an evening, the last fad:</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t care, he is in the opera!”</p> - -<p>The velvet band on the little head-dress bristled -up in sign of revolt, as if it were really covering -one of those enthusiastic heads above whose profile -it floats, down there in Provence. Besides, the -Valmajours were not peasants like others, but the -last remnants of a reduced family of nobles.</p> - -<p>Rosalie, standing in front of the tall mirror, -turned about laughing:</p> - -<p>“What! You believe in that legend?”</p> - -<p>“Why, of course I do. They descend in direct -line from the Princes des Baux. There are the -parchments and there are the coats of arms at -their rustic doorway. Any day that they should -wish—”</p> - -<p>Rosalie shuddered. Behind the peasant who -played the flute there was the prince besides. -Given a strong imagination—and that might -become dangerous.</p> - -<p>“None of that story is true,” and this time she -did not laugh any more. “In the district of Aps -there are ten families bearing that so-called princely -name. Anybody who told you otherwise told a -falsehood through vanity or through—”</p> - -<p>“But it was Numa—it was your husband. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span> -other night at the Ministry he gave us all sorts of -details.”</p> - -<p>“O! You know how it is with him—you have -got to consider the focus, as he says himself.”</p> - -<p>Hortense was not listening. She had gone back -into the drawing-room, and, seated at the piano, -she began in a loud voice:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Mount’ as passa ta matinado,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Mourbieù, Marioun....”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>It was an old popular ballad of Provence, sung -to an air as grave as a church recitative, that Numa -had taught his sister-in-law; one that he enjoyed -hearing her sing with her Parisian accent, which, -sliding over the Southern articulations, made one -think of Italian spoken by an Englishwoman.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Où as-tu passé ta matinée, morbleu, Marion?</div> - <div class="verse indent0">A la fontaine chercher de l’eau, mon Dieu, mon ami.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Quel est celui qui te parlait, morbleu, Marion?</div> - <div class="verse indent0">C’est une de mes camarades, mon Dieu, mon ami.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Les femmes ne portent pas les brayes, morbleu, Marion.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">C’est sa robe entortillée, mon Dieu, mon ami.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Les femmes ne portent pas l’épée, morbleu, Marion.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">C’est sa quenouille qui pendait, mon Dieu, mon ami.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Les femmes ne portent pas les moustaches, morbleu, Marion.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">C’est des mûres qu’elle mangeait, mon Dieu, mon ami.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Le mois de mai ne porte pas de mûres, morbleu, Marion.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">C’était une branche de l’automne, mon Dieu, mon ami.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Va m’en chercher une assiettée, morbleu, Marion.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Les petits oiseaux les ont toutes mangées, mon Dieu, mon ami.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Marion! ... je te couperai ta tête, morbleu, Marion.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Et puis que ferez-vous du reste, mon Dieu, mon ami?</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Je le jetterai par la fenêtre, morbleu, Marion,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Les chiens, les chats en feront fête....”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span></p> -<p>She interrupted herself in order to fling out his -words with the gesture and intonation that Numa -used when he got excited. “There, look you, me -children! ’tis as foine as Shakespeare.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, a picture of manners and customs,” said -Rosalie, coming up to her, “the husband gross -and brutal, the wife catlike and mendacious—a -true household in Provence!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, my dear child,” said Mme. Le Quesnoy, in -a tone of gentle reproof, the tone that is used -when ancient quarrels have become the habit. -The piano-stool whisked quickly around and -brought face to face with Rosalie the cap of the -furious little Provence girl.</p> - -<p>“’Tis really too much! what harm has it ever -done to you, our South? as for me, I adore it! -I did not know it at the time, but that voyage you -made me take revealed to me my real country. -It is no use to have been baptized at St. Paul’s; -I belong down there, I do—I am a child of the -‘little square.’ Do you know, Mamma, some one -of these days we will just leave these cold Northerners -planted right here, and we two will go down -to live in our beautiful South, where people sing -and dance—the South of the winds, of the sun, of -the mirage, of everything that makes one poetic -and widens one’s <span class="lock">life—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">‘It is there I would wish to dw-e-e-ll.’”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Her two agile hands fell back upon the piano, -scattering the end of her dream in a tumult of -resounding notes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span></p> - -<p>“And not one word about the tabor-player!” -thought Rosalie. “That’s a serious thing!”</p> - -<p>It was a good deal more serious than she -imagined.</p> - -<p>From the day when Audiberte had seen Mlle. -Le Quesnoy fasten a flower on the tabor of her -brother, from that very moment there arose in -her ambitious soul a splendid vision of the future, -which had not been without its effect on their -transplantation to Paris. The reception which -Hortense gave her, when she came to complain -about her brother’s obstination in running after -Numa, defined and strengthened her in her still -vague hope. And since then, gradually, without -opening her mind to her men-folks otherwise than -through half words, she prepared the path with the -duplicity of the peasant woman who is nearly an -Italian, gliding and crawling forward. From her -seat in the kitchen in the Place Royale, where she -began by waiting timidly in a corner on the edge -of a chair, she crept into the drawing-room and -installed herself, always neat and trig, in the position -of a poor relation.</p> - -<p>Hortense was crazy about her, showed her to -her friends as if she were a pretty piece of bric-à-brac -brought from that land of Provence which -she always spoke of with enthusiasm. And the -other girl played herself off as more simple than -nature allows, exaggerated her savage rages, her -tirades of wrath with clenched fist against the -muddy sky of Paris, and would often use a charming -little exclamation, <i>Boudiou</i>, the effect of which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span> -she arranged and watched like a kittenish girl on -the stage. The President himself had smiled at -this <i>Boudiou</i>, and just to think of having made the -President smile!</p> - -<p>But it was in the young girl’s bedroom, when -they were alone, that she put all her tricks in -play. All of a sudden she would kneel at her -feet, would seize her hand, go into ecstasies over -the smallest points of her toilet, her way of making -a bow in a ribbon, her manner of dressing her -hair, letting slip those heavy compliments directly -in her face, which give great pleasure all the -same, so spontaneous and naïve do they appear.</p> - -<p>Oh, when the young lady stepped out of the -carriage in front of the <i>mas</i> [the farm-house], -she thought she saw the queen of the angels in -person! and she was for a time speechless at the -sight, and her brother, <i>pécaïré</i>, when he heard -on the stones of the descending road the noise of -the carriage which took back the little Parisian, -he said it was as if those stones, one by one, were -falling on his heart. She played a great rôle with -regard to this brother, his pride and his anxieties—his -anxieties, now why? I just ask you why—since -that reception at the “Menistry” he was -being talked about in all the papers and his portrait -was seen everywhere and such invitations as -he got in the Faubourg Saint-Germoine—why he -couldn’t meet them all! Duchesses, countesses, -wrote him notes on splendid paper—they had -coronets on their letters just like those on the -carriages which they sent to bring him in; and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span> -still—well, no, he wasn’t happy, the “pore” man! -All these things whispered in Hortense’s ear gave -her some share of the fever and magnetic will-power -of the peasant girl. Then, without looking -at Audiberte, she asked if perhaps Valmajour did -not have down there in Provence a betrothed who -was waiting for him.</p> - -<p>“He a betrothed?—<i>avaï!</i> you do not know -him—he has much too much belief in himself to -desire a peasant girl. The richest girls have been -on his track, the Des Combette girl, and then still -another, and a lot of gay ladies—you know what -I mean! He did not even look at them. Who -knows what it is he is revolving in his head? Oh, -these artists—”</p> - -<p>And that word, a new one for her, assumed on -her ignorant lips an expression hard to define, -somewhat like the Latin spoken at mass, or some -cabalistic formula picked up in a book of magic. -The heritage which would come from Cousin Puyfourcat -returned again and again during the course -of this adroit gossip.</p> - -<p>There are very few families in the South of -France, whether artisans or burghers, who do not -possess a Cousin Puyfourcat, an adventurer who -has departed in early youth in search of fortune -and has never written since, whom they love to -imagine enormously rich. He is like a lottery -ticket running for an indefinite time, a chimerical -vista opening up fortune and hope in the distance, -which at last they end by taking for a fact. Audiberte -believed firmly in the fortune of that cousin<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span> -and she talked about it to the young girl, less for -the purpose of dazzling her than in order to diminish -the social gap which separated them. When -Puyfourcat should die, her brother was to buy -Valmajour back again, cause the castle to be rebuilt -and his patent of nobility acknowledged, because -everybody said that the necessary papers -were extant.</p> - -<p>At the close of such chats as these, which were -sometimes prolonged deep into the twilight, Hortense -remained for a long time silent, her forehead -pressed against the pane, and saw the high towers -of that reconstructed castle as they lifted themselves -in the rose-colored winter sunset, the terrace -shining with torches and resounding with concerts -in honor of the chatelaine.</p> - -<p>“<i>Boudiou</i>, how late it is,” cried the peasant girl, -seeing that she had brought her to the point where -she desired, “and the dinner for my men is not -ready yet! I must fly!”</p> - -<p>Very often Valmajour came and waited for her -downstairs; but she never allowed him to come -upstairs. She felt that he was so awkward and -coarse, and cold, besides, toward any idea of flattering. -She had no use for him yet.</p> - -<p>Somebody who was very much in her way, too, -but difficult to escape, was Rosalie, with whom her -feline ways and her false innocency did not take at -all. In her presence Audiberte, her terrible -black brows knit across her forehead, did not say a -single word; and in that Southern silence there -rose up along with the racial hatred that anger of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span> -the weak person, underhand and vindictive, which -turns against the obstacle most dangerous to its -projects. Her real grievance was Rosalie, but she -talked about quite other ones to her little sister. -For example, Rosalie did not like tabor-playing; -then “she did not do her religious duties—and a -woman who does not do her religion, you know....” -Audiberte did her religion and in the most tremendous -way; she never missed a single mass and -she went to communion on the proper days. But -all that did not hinder in any way her actions; -intriguer, liar and hypocrite as she was, violent to -the verge of crime, she drew from the Bible texts -nothing but excuses for vengeance and hatred. -Only she kept her honor in the feminine sense of -the word. With her twenty-eight years and her -pretty face, in those low quarters where the Valmajours -were moving nowadays, she preserved the -severe chastity of her thick peasant’s scarf, bound -about a heart which had never beat with any emotion -beside ambition for her brother.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>“Hortense makes me anxious—look at her -there.”</p> - -<p>Rosalie, to whom her mother whispered this -confidentially in a corner of the drawing-room at -the Ministry, thought that Mme. Le Quesnoy shared -her own anxiety, but the observation made by the -mother referred merely to the physical condition -of Hortense, who had not been able to cure herself -of a bad cold. Rosalie looked at her sister; -always the same dazzling complexion, liveliness<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span> -and gayety; she coughed a little, but what of that? -only as all Parisian girls do after the ball season! -The summer would certainly put her back again -in good shape very quickly.</p> - -<p>“And have you spoken to Jarras about her?”</p> - -<p>Jarras was a friend of Roumestan, one of the -old boys of the Café Malmus. He assured her -that it was nothing and suggested a course at the -waters of Arvillard.</p> - -<p>“All right, then; you must get off quickly,” said -Rosalie with vivacity, delighted with this pretext -of getting Hortense away.</p> - -<p>“Yes, but there is your father, who would be -alone—”</p> - -<p>“I will go and see him every day—”</p> - -<p>Then, sobbing, the poor mother acknowledged -the horror which such a trip with her daughter -caused her. During an entire year it had been -necessary for her to run from one watering place -to another for the sake of the child they had already -lost. Was it possible that she would have -to begin again the same pilgrimage, with the same -frightful results in prospect? And the other, too,—the -disease had seized him at the age of twenty, -in his full health, in his full <span class="lock">powers—</span></p> - -<p>“Oh Mamma, do be quiet!”</p> - -<p>And Rosalie scolded her gently: Come, now; -Hortense was not ill; the doctor said that the -trip would only be a pleasure party; Arvillard, -in the Alps of Dauphiny, was a marvellous country; -she herself would like nothing better than -to accompany Hortense in her mother’s place;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span> -unfortunately, she could not do it. Reasons most -<span class="lock">serious—</span></p> - -<p>“Yes, yes. I understand—your husband, the -Ministry—”</p> - -<p>“O, no. It isn’t that at all!”</p> - -<p>And to her mother, in that nearness of heart -which they so seldom found affecting them: “Listen, -then, but for you alone—nobody knows it, -not even Numa ...” she acknowledged a still very -fragile hope of a great happiness which she had -quite despaired of, the happiness which made her -wild with joy and fear, the entirely new hope of a -baby who might perhaps be born to them.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.<br> - -<span class="smaller">A WATERING-PLACE.</span></h2> -</div> - - - -<div class="letterhead"> -ARVILLARD LES BAINS,<br> -2d August, ’76. -</div> - -<p class="chapfirst">“Well, it is queer enough, this place from which -I am writing to you. Imagine a square hall, very -lofty, paved with stones, done in stucco work—a -sonorous hall, where the daylight falling through -two enormous windows is veiled down to the lowest -pane with blue curtains and further obscured -by a sort of floating vapor, having a taste of sulphur -in it, which clings to one’s clothes and tarnishes -one’s gold ornaments. In this hall are -people seated near the walls, on benches, chairs -and stools round little tables—people who look at -their watches every minute, get up and go out, -leaving their seats to others, letting one see each -time through the half-open door a mob of bathers -moving about in the brightly lit vestibule and the -flowing white aprons of the serving women who -dash here and there. In spite of all this movement, -no noise, but a continual murmur of conversation -in low voices, newspapers being unfolded, -badly oxidized pens scratching on paper, a solemnity -as in a church—the whole place bathed and -refreshed by the big stream of mineral water<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span> -arranged in the middle of the hall, the rush of -which breaks itself against a disk of metal, is -crushed to pieces, separates in jets and turns to -powder above the great basins placed one upon -the other and all dripping with moisture. This is -the inhalation hall.</p> - -<p>“I must let you know, my dear girl, that everybody -does not inhale in the same way. For instance, -the old gentleman who sits in front of me -at this moment follows the prescriptions of the -doctor to the letter, for I recognize them all. Our -feet placed upon a stool and our chest pushed -forward, let us pull in our elbows and keep our -mouth open all the time to make the inspiration -easy. Poor, dear man! How he does inhale, with -what a confidence in the result! What little round -eyes he has, credulous and devout, which seem to -be saying to the spring:</p> - -<p>“‘O spring of Arvillard, cure me well; see how -I inhale you, see what faith I have in you—’</p> - -<p>“Then we have the skeptic, who inhales without -inhaling, his back bent, shrugging his shoulders -and rolling up his eyes. Then there are the discouraged -ones, the people who are really sick and -feel the uselessness and nothingness of all this. -One poor lady, my neighbor, I see putting her -finger quickly to her mouth every little while -to see if her glove is not stained at the tip with -a red blot. But, all the same, people find some -means to be gay. Ladies who belong in the same -hotel push their chairs near to each other, form -groups, do their embroidery, gossip in a low voice,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span> -discuss the newspaper of the baths and the list -of strangers just arrived. Young persons bring -out their English novels in red covers, priests -read their breviaries—there are a great many -priests at Arvillard, particularly missionaries with -big beards, yellow faces, voices hoarse from having -preached so long the word of God. As to me, -you know I don’t care about novels, particularly -those novels of to-day in which everything happens -just like things in everyday life. So for my part -I take up my correspondence with two or three -designated victims—Marie Tournier, Aurélie Dansaert -and you, great big sister whom I adore! -Look out for regular journals! Just think, two -hours of inhalation in four times, and that every -day! Nobody here inhales as much as I do, -which is as much as saying that I am a real phenomenon. -People look at me a good deal for this -reason and I have no little pride in it.</p> - -<p>“As to the rest of the treatment—nothing else -except the glass of mineral water which I go and -drink at the spring in the morning and evening, -and which ought to triumph over the obstinate -veil which this horrid cold has thrown over my -voice. There is the special point of the Arvillard -waters and for that reason the singers and songstresses -make this place their rendezvous. Handsome -Mayol has just left us, with his vocal cords -entirely renewed. Mlle. Bachellery, whom you -remember—the little diva at your reception—has -found herself so well in consequence of the -treatment that after having finished three regular<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span> -weeks she has begun three more, wherefore doth -the newspaper of the baths bestow upon her great -praise. We have the honor of dwelling in the -same hotel with that young and illustrious person, -adorned with a tender Bordeaux mother, who at -the <i>table d’hôte</i> advertises ‘good appetites’ in the -salad and talks of the one-hundred-and-forty-franc -bonnet which her young lady wore at the last -Longchamps races—a delicious couple, and greatly -admired among us all! We go into ecstasies over -the childish graces of Bébé, as her mother calls -her, over her laughter, her trills, the tossings of -her short skirt. We crowd together in front of -the sanded courtyard of the hotel in order to see -her do her game of croquet with the little girls -and little boys—she will play with none but -the little ones—to see her run and jump and -send her ball like a real street boy.</p> - -<p>“‘Look out, I’m going to roquet you, Master -Paul!’</p> - -<p>“Everybody says of her, ‘What a child she is!’ -As for me, I believe that those false childish ways -are a part of a rôle which she is playing, just like -her skirts with big bows on them and her hair -looped up postillon-style. Then she has such an -extraordinary way of kissing that great big Bordeaux -woman, of suspending herself to her neck, -of allowing herself to be cradled and held in her -lap before all the world! You know well enough -how caressing I am—well, honor bright! it makes -me feel embarrassed when I kiss mamma.</p> - -<p>“A very singular family, too, but less amusing,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span> -consists of the Prince and Princess of Anhalt, of -Mademoiselle their daughter, and the governess, -chamber-women and suite, who occupy the entire -first floor of the hotel and are the grand personages -thereof. I often meet the princess on the -stair going up step by step on the arm of her husband—a -handsome gallant, bursting with health -under his military hat turned up with blue. She -never goes to the bathing-hall except in a sedan -chair and it is heartrending to see that wrinkled -and pale face behind the little pane of the chair; -father and child walk at the side, the child very -wretched-looking, with all the features of her -mother and very likely also all of her malady. -This little creature, eight years old, who is not -allowed to play with the other children and who -looks down sadly from the balcony on the games -of croquet and the riding-parties at the hotel, -bores herself to death. They think that her blood -is too blue for such common joys and prefer to -keep her in the gloomy atmosphere of that dying -mother, by the side of that father who shows his -sick wife to the public with an impudent and worn-out -face, or give the child over to the servants.</p> - -<p>“But heavens, it’s a kind of pest, it’s an -infectious disease, this nobility business! These -people take their meals by themselves in a little -dining-room; they inhale by themselves—because -there are separate halls for families—and you can -imagine the mournfulness of that companionship—that -woman and the little girl together in a -great silent vault!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span></p> - -<p>“The other evening we were together in considerable -number in the big room on the ground -floor where the guests unite to play little games, -sing and even occasionally to dance. Mamma -Bachellery had just accompanied Bébé in a -cavatina from an opera—you know ‘we’ want -to enter the opera; in fact, we have come to -Arvillard to ‘cure up our voice for that’ according -to the elegant expression of the mother. All -of a sudden the door opened and the princess -made her appearance, with that grand air which is -her own—near her end but elegant, wrapped in -the lace mantle which hides the terrible and significant -narrowness of her shoulders. The little girl -and the father followed.</p> - -<p>“‘Go on, I beg of you—’ coughed the poor -woman.</p> - -<p>“And would you believe it? that idiot of a little -singer must choose out of all her repertory the -most harrowing, the most sentimental ballad -‘<i>Vorrei morir</i>,’ something like our ‘Dying -Leaves’ in Italian, a ballad of a sick woman who -fixes the date of her death in autumn, in order to -give herself the illusion that all nature will die -along with her, enveloped in the first autumnal -fog as in a winding sheet!</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“‘<i>Vorrei morir nella stagion dell’ anno.</i>’</div> - <div class="verse indent0">(Oh! let me pass away when dies the year.)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“It is a graceful air, but with a sadness in it -which is increased by the caressing sound of the -Italian words; and there in the middle of that big<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span> -drawing-room, into which penetrated all sorts of -perfumes through the open window, the little -breezes, too, and the freshness of a fine summer -night, this longing to live on until autumn, this -truce and surcease asked of the malady took on -something too poignant to bear. Without saying -a word, the princess stood up and quickly left the -room. In the shadows of the garden I heard a -sob, one long sob, then the voice of a man scolding, -and then those tearful complaints which a -child makes when it sees its mother sorrowing.</p> - -<p>“That is the mournfulness of such watering-places: -these miseries concerning health which meet -one everywhere, these persistent coughs scarcely -deadened by the hotel partitions, these precautions -taken with handkerchiefs pressed upon the mouth -in order to keep off the air, these chats and confidences, -the miserable meaning of which one -divines from the hand moving toward the chest or -toward the back near the shoulder-blade, from -the sleepy manner, the dragging gait and the -fixed idea of misfortune.</p> - -<p>“Mamma, poor mamma, who knows the stages in -sickness of the lungs, says that at Eaux-Bonnes -or at Mont Dore it is a very different thing -from what it is here. To Arvillard people send -only convalescents like myself or else desperate -cases for which nothing can do any more good. -Luckily at our hotel Alpes Dauphinoises we have -only three sick persons of that sort, the princess -and two young Lyon people, brother and sister, -orphans and very rich, they say, who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span> -appear to be on their last legs; especially the -sister, with that pallid complexion of the Lyon -women, as if seen under water; she’s wound up in -morning gowns and knit shawls, without one jewel -or ribbon—not a single glimpse of coquetry about -her!</p> - -<p>“She looks poverty-stricken, that rich girl; she is -certainly lost and she knows it; she is in despair -and abandons herself to despair. On the other -hand, in the bent figure of the young man, tightly -squeezed into a fashionable jacket, there is a certain -terrible determination to live, an incredible -force of resistance to the malady.</p> - -<p>“‘My sister has no spring in her—but I have -plenty!’ said he the other day at the <i>table d’hôte</i>, -in a voice quite eaten away, which is as difficult to -hear as the <i>ut</i> note of Vauters the diva when she -sings. And the fact is, he does have springs in the -most surprising way; he is the make-fun of the -hotel, the organizer of games, card-parties and -excursions; he goes out riding and driving in sleds, -that kind of little sled laden with fagots on which -the mountaineers of this country toboggan you -down the steepest slopes; he waltzes and fences, -shaken with the terrible spasms of coughing which -never stop him for a moment.</p> - -<p>“We have, beside, a medical luminary here—you -remember him—Dr. Bouchereau, the man -whom mamma went to consult about our poor -Andrew. I do not know whether he has recognized -us, but he never bowed—a regular old -bear!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span></p> - -<p>“I have just come from drinking my half-glass -of water at the spring. This precious spring is -ten minutes away, as one ascends in the direction -of the high peak, in a gorge where a torrent all -feathery with foam rolls and thunders, having -come from the glacier which closes the view, a -glacier shining and clear between the blue Alps -that seems to be forever crumbling and dissolving -its invisible and snowy base into that white mass -of beaten water. Great black rocks dripping constantly -among the ferns and lichens, the groves of -pine and a dark green foliage, a soil in which -spicules of mica glitter in the coal dust—that is -the place; but something that I cannot express to -you is the tremendous noise of the torrent -tearing among the stones and of the steam-hammer -of a lumber mill, which the water sets in action; -and then, besides, in this narrow gorge, on its -single road, which is always crowded, there are coal-carts, -long files of mules, riding parties of excursionists -and the water drinkers going and coming. -I forgot to mention the apparition at the doors of -wretched dwellings of some horrible male or female -cretin, displaying a hideous goitre, a great big -idiotic face with an open and grumbling mouth! -Cretinism is one of the products of the country; -it seems that Nature here is too strong for human -beings and that the minerals and the rest—copper, -iron and sulphur—seize, strangle and suffocate -them; that that water flowing from the peaks -chills them as it does those wretched trees which -one sees growing all dwarfed between two crags.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span> -There’s another of those impressions made upon -a new arrival, the mournfulness and horror of -which disappear in the course of a few days.</p> - -<p>“For now, instead of flying from them, I have -my special pet sufferers from goitre, one in particular, -a frightful little monster, perched on the -border of the road in a chair fit for a child of -three years old; but he is sixteen, exactly the -age of Mlle. Bachellery. When I near him, -he dodders about his head, as heavy as a stone, -and gives forth a hoarse cry, a crushed cry without -understanding and without style; and as soon as -he has received his piece of silver, he raises it in -triumph toward a charcoal-woman, who is watching -him from the corner of a window. He is a piece -of good fortune envied by a great many mothers, -for this hideous creature takes in, by himself alone, -more than his three brothers do, who are at work -at the furnaces of La Debout. His father does -nothing at all; afflicted with consumption, he -passes the winter by his poor man’s hearth and in -summer installs himself on a bench with other -unhappy ones in the warm mist which the hot -springs create as they pour forth.</p> - -<p>“The young lady of the springs, in her white -apron and with dripping hands, fills the glasses -which are held out to her, as they come along, -while in the courtyard near by, separated from the -road by a low wall, heads are seen, the bodies of -which one cannot perceive, heads thrown backward, -contorted with their efforts, grinning in the -sunshine, their mouths wide open; ’tis an illustration<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span> -for the Inferno of Dante: the sinners -damned to gargling!</p> - -<p>“Sometimes, when we leave, we go the big -round while returning to the establishment and -descend by the country way. Mamma, whom the -noise of the hotel fatigues and who particularly -fears lest I should dance too much in the drawing-room, -had indulged the dream of hiring a little -house in Arvillard, where there is plenty of choice -at every door; on every story there are bills, -which flutter among the potted plants between -the fresh and tempting curtains. One asks oneself -what on earth becomes of the inhabitants during -the season; do they camp in bands on the -surrounding mountains, or do they go and live in -the hotel at fifty francs a day? It would surprise -me if it were so, for that magnet which they carry -in their eye when they look at the bather seems to -me terribly rapacious—there is something in it -which glitters and catches hold.</p> - -<p>“Yes, that same shining something, that sudden -gleam on the forehead of my little boy with the -goitre, reflected from his piece of silver—I find it -everywhere; on the spectacles of the little nervous -doctor who auscults me every morning, in the -eyes of the good sugarly-sweet ladies who ask you -in to examine their houses, their most convenient -little gardens, crammed with holes full of water and -kitchens on the ground floor to serve the apartments -in the third story; in the eyes of carmen -with their short blouses and lacquered hats decked -with big ribbons, who make signs to you from the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span> -boxes of their carryalls; in the look cast by the -donkey-boy standing in front of the wide-open -barn in which long ears switch to and fro; yes, even -in the glances of these donkeys, in their long look -of obstinacy and gentleness, I have seen that metallic -hardness which the love of money gives; I -have seen it, it exists.</p> - -<p>“After all, their houses are frightful, huddled -together and mournful, having no outlook, full of -disagreeable points of all kinds which are impossible -to ignore, because your attention has been -drawn to them in the house next door. Decidedly -we shall stick to our caravansary, the Alpes Dauphinoises, -which lies hot in the sun on its height -and steeps its red bricks and uncountable green -shutters in the middle of an English park not yet -of age, a park with hedges, labyrinth and sanded -roads, the enjoyment of which it shares with five -or six other overgrown hotels of the country—La -Chevrette, La Laita, Le Bréda, La Planta.</p> - -<p>“All these hotels with Savoy names are in a -state of ferocious rivalry; they spy upon each -other, watch each other across the copses, and -there is a merry war as to which shall put on the -most style with its bells, its pianos, the whip-cracking -of its postilions, its expenditure of fireworks; -or which one shall throw its windows widest open -in order that the animation there, the laughter, -songs and dances shall appeal to the visitors -lodged in the opposite hotel and make them say:</p> - -<p>“‘How they do amuse themselves down there! -What a lot of people they must have!’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span></p> - -<p>“But the place where the hottest battle goes on -between the rival taverns is in the columns of the -<i>Bathers’ Gazette</i>, where those lists of new arrivals -are printed, which the little sheet gives with minute -exactness, twice a week.</p> - -<p>“What envious rage at the Laita or the Planta -when, for example, they read:</p> - -<p>“‘<i>Prince and Princess of Anhalt and their suite, ... Alpes -Dauphinoises.</i>’</p> - -<p>“Everything becomes colorless in the light of -that crushing line. What response can there be? -They rack their brains; they try their wits; if you -are possessed of a <i>de</i> or some title, they drag it -out and flaunt it. Why, here’s La Chevrette has -been serving us up the very same Inspector of -Forests three times under as many different species, -as Inspector, as Marquis, and as Chevalier of Saints -Maurice and Lazarus; but the Alpes Dauphinoises -is still wearing the cockade, though you may be -sure it is not on our account. Great heavens! You -know how retiring mamma always is, and afraid of -her shadow; well, she took good care to forbid -Fanny saying who we were, because the position -of papa and that of your husband might have -drawn about us too much idle curiosity and social -riffraff. The newspaper said merely <i>Mesdames -Le Quesnoy de Paris, ... Alpes Dauphinoises</i>; and -as Parisians are few and far between our incognito -has not been unveiled.</p> - -<p>“We are very simply arranged, but comfortably -enough—two rooms on the second floor, the whole -valley lying before us, an amphitheatre of mountains<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span> -black with pine woods far below—mountains -which show various shades and get lighter and -lighter as they rise with their streaks of eternal -snow; barren steeps close upon little farms which -look like squares in green and yellow and rose, -among which the haycocks look no larger than -bee-hives.</p> - -<p>“But this beautiful landscape does little to keep -us in our rooms. In the evening there is the drawing-room, -in the day time we wander through the -park to carry out the treatment. In connection with -an existence so full and yet so empty, the treatment -takes hold of and absorbs you. The amusing -hour is the one after breakfast, when groups are -formed about the little tables for coffee under the -big lime-tree at the entrance of the garden; this is -the hour for arrivals and departures. People exchange -good-byes and shake hands about the carriage -which is taking off the bathers; the hotel -people press forward, their eyes brilliant with that -shiny look, that famous sheen of the Savoyard; -we kiss people whom we hardly know; handkerchiefs -are waved; the horse-bells jangle, and then -the heavy and crowded wagon disappears, swaying -along the narrow road on the side of the hill, carrying -off with it those names and faces which for a -moment have made a part of our life in common, -those faces unknown yesterday and to-morrow -forgot.</p> - -<p>“Others come and install themselves after their -own fashion. I imagine that this is like the monotony -of packet-ships, with the change of faces at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span> -every port. All this going and coming amuses me, -but poor dear mamma continues to be very sorrowful, -very much absorbed, in spite of the smile which -she tries to give when I look at her. I can guess -that every detail of our lives brings with it for her -a heartrending souvenir, a memory of the gloomiest -images. Poor thing, she saw so many of those -caravansaries of sick people during that year when -she followed her poor dying boy from stage to stage, -in the lowlands or on the mountains, beneath the -pines or at the edge of the sea, with hope always -deceived and that eternal resignation which she was -ever obliged to show during her martyrdom.</p> - -<p>“I do think that Jarras might have arranged to -save her from the memory of this sorrow; for as -for me, I am not sick, I cough hardly at all, and -with the exception of my disgusting huskiness, -which leaves me with a voice fit for crying vegetables -in the street, I have never been so well in -my life. A real devilish appetite, would you -believe it? fits of hunger so terrible that I can -hardly wait for a meal! Yesterday, after a breakfast -with thirty dishes, with a menu more involved -than the Chinese alphabet, I saw a woman stemming -raspberries before our door. All of a sudden -a desire seized me; two bowls full, my dear girl, -two bowls full of the great big fresh raspberries, -‘the fruit of the country,’ as our waiter calls -them, and there you have my appetite!</p> - -<p>“All the same, my dear, how lucky it is that -neither you nor I have taken the malady of that -poor brother of ours, whom I hardly knew and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span> -whose discouraged expression, which is shown on -his portrait in our parents’ chamber, comes back -to me here, when I see other faces with their drawn -features! And what an odd fish is this doctor who -formerly took care of him, this famous Bouchereau! -The other day mamma wanted to present -me to him; in order to obtain a consultation with -him we prowled around the park in the neighborhood -of the old, long-legged fellow with his brutal -and harsh face. But he was very much surrounded -by the Arvillard doctors, who were listening to -him with all the humbleness of pupils. Then we -waited for him at the close of the inhalation; all -our labor in vain! The fellow set off walking at -such a pace that it seemed as if he wished to avoid -us. You know with mamma one does not get over -ground fast; so we missed him again this time. -Finally, yesterday morning, Fanny went on our -part to ask of his housekeeper if he could receive -us; he sent back word that he was at the baths to -care for his own health and not to give medical -advice! There’s a boor for you! It is quite true -that I have never seen such a pallor as he presents; -it is like wax; papa is a highly-colored -gentleman by the side of him. He lives only upon -milk, never comes down to the dining-room and -still less to the drawing-room. Our little nervous -doctor, the one whom I call M. That’s-what-you-need, -will have it that he is the victim of a very -dangerous heart malady and it is only the waters -of Arvillard which have for the past three years -permitted him to stay alive.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span></p> - -<p>“‘That’s what you need! That’s what you -need!’</p> - -<p>“That is all that one can make out in the babble -of this funny little man, as vain as he is garrulous, -who whirls round our apartments every -morning.</p> - -<p>“‘Doctor, I don’t sleep—I believe this treatment -agitates me’.... ‘That’s what you need!’ -‘Doctor, I am always so sleepy—I think it must -be that mineral water.’... ‘That’s what you -need!’</p> - -<p>“What he seems to need more than anything -else is that his tour of visits should be made quickly, -in order that he may be at his consultation office -before ten o’clock, in that little fly-box where the -patients are crammed together as far out as the -stairs and down the steps as far as the curb-stone. -And I can tell you he doesn’t loaf much, but whips -you off a prescription without stopping for one -moment his jumping and prancing, like a bather -who is trying to get his ‘reaction.’</p> - -<p>“O, yes, that reaction! That’s another story, -too. As for me, I shall take neither baths nor -douches, so I don’t make my reaction, but I -remain sometimes a quarter of an hour under -the lindens of the park, looking at the march up -and down of all these people who walk with long, -regular steps and a deeply absorbed look, passing -each other without saying one word. My old -gentleman of the inhalation hall, the man who -tries to propitiate the springs, carries on this exercise -with the same punctuality and conscientiousness.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span> -At the entrance to the shaded walk he -comes to a full stop, shuts his white umbrella, turns -down the collar of his coat, looks at his watch, -and—forward, march! Each leg stiff, elbows to -his side, one, two! one, two! as far as the long -pencil of white light which the absence of a tree, -forming there an opening, throws across the alley at -that point. He never goes farther than that, raises -his arms three times as if he had dumb-bells in his -hands, then returns in the same fashion, brandishes -dumb-bells once more, and does this for fifteen -turns, one after the other. I have an idea that the -department for the crazy people at Charenton -must have somewhat the same features that -my alley presents about eleven o’clock in the -morning.”</p> - -<div class="letterhead"> -6 August.</div> - - -<p>“So it is true, after all, Numa is coming to -see us? O, how delighted I am! how delighted -I am! Your letter has just come by the one -o’clock mail which is distributed at the office of -the hotel. It is a solemn moment which is decisive -of the hue and color of the entire day. The -office is crammed and people arrange themselves -in a semicircle around fat Mme. Laugeron, who is -very imposing in her morning gown of blue flannel, -whilst in her authoritative voice with a bit of manner -in it, the voice of a former lady’s companion, she -reads off the many-colored addresses of the mail. -At the call each one advances, and it is my duty -to tell you that we put a certain amount of personal -pride in having a big mail. In what does one not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span> -show some personal pride, for the matter of that, -during this perpetual rubbing shoulders of vanities -and of follies? Just to think that I should reach -the point of being proud of my two hours of -inhalation!</p> - -<p>“‘The Prince of Anhalt—M. Vasseur—Mlle. Le -Quesnoy—’ Deceived again! it is only my fashion -journal. ‘Mlle. Le Quesnoy—’ I give a -glance to see if there is nothing more for me and -skip with your dear letter away down to the end -of the garden, where there is a bench surrounded -by big walnuts.</p> - -<p>“Here it is—this is my own bench, the corner -where I go to be alone in order to dream and build -my Spanish castles; for it is a singular thing that -in order to invent well and to develop oneself -intellectually according to the precepts laid down -by M. Baudouy, I do not need very wide horizons. -If my landscape is too big, I lose myself in it, I -scatter myself, ’tis all up with me. The only bore -about my bench is the neighborhood of the swing, -where that little Bachellery girl passes half her day -in letting herself be swung into space by the young -man who believes in having springs. I should -think he must have plenty of spring in order to -push her that way by the hour together; at every -moment come babyish cries and musical roulades: -‘Higher, higher yet, a little more—’</p> - -<p>“Heavens! How that girl does get on my -nerves! I wish that swing would pass her off and -up into a cloud and that she would never come -back again!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span></p> - -<p>“Things are so nice upon my bench, so far away, -when she is not there! I have thoroughly enjoyed -your letter, the postscript of which made me utter -a cry of delight.</p> - -<p>“O, blessed be Chambéry and its new college -and that corner-stone to be laid, which brings the -Minister of Public Instruction into our district. -He will be very comfortable here for the preparation -of his speech, either walking about our shady -alley, the ‘reaction alley,’ (come, that wasn’t bad -for a pun!) or else beneath my walnuts, when Miss -Bachellery is not scaring them with her cries. My -dear Numa! I get on so well with him; he is so -lively, so gay! How we shall chat together about -our Rosalie and the serious motive which prevents -her from travelling at this time—O great Heavens, -that was a secret!—and poor mamma, who has -made me swear so often about it! she is the one -who will be glad enough to see dear Numa again. -On this occasion she quite lost every sort of -timidity or modesty; you ought to have seen the -majesty with which she entered the office of the -hotel in order to take an apartment for her son-in-law, -the Minister! O, what fun, the face of our -landlady hearing this news!</p> - -<p>“‘Why—what—my ladies, you are—you were—?’</p> - -<p>“‘Yes, we were—yes, we are—’</p> - -<p>“Her broad face turned lilac and poppy-colored—a -very palette for an impressionist painter. And -so with M. Laugeron and the entire hotel service. -Since our arrival we have been demanding an extra<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span> -candlestick in vain; now there are five on the -chimneypiece. I can promise you that Numa will -be well served and installed; they will give him -the first story, occupied by the Prince of Anhalt, -which will be vacant in three days. It appears -that the waters of Arvillard are bad for the princess; -and even the little doctor himself believes it -is better that she should leave as quickly as possible. -That is what is best—because if a tragedy -should occur the Alpes Dauphinoises would never -recover from the blow.</p> - -<p>“It is really pitiable, the hurry there is about -the departure of these wretched people, the way -they edge them off, the way they shove them along -in consequence of that magnetic hostility which -places seem to exhale where a person is no longer -wanted. Poor Princess of Anhalt, whose arrival -here was made such a festival! a little more and -they would have her conducted to the borders of -the department between two policemen—that is -the hospitality of watering places!</p> - -<p>“And by the way, how about Bompard? You -haven’t told me whether he is coming too or not. -Dangerous Bompard! If he should come I am -quite capable of eloping with him on some glacier. -What intellectual development might we not discover -between us, as we approached the snowy -peaks! I laugh, I am so delighted—and I go on -inhaling, a little embarrassed, it is true, by the -neighborhood of that terrible Bouchereau, who has -just come in and seated himself two seats away -from me.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span></p> - -<p>“What an obdurate air he has, that man, to be -sure! His hands crossed on the knob of his cane -and chin resting on his hands, he talks away in a -high voice, looking straight ahead, without really -speaking to anybody. Do you suppose that I -must take it as a lesson for me, what he says of the -lack of prudence among the ladies who bathe, -about their gowns of thin linen, about the folly of -going out of doors after dinner in a country where -the evenings are mortally cold? Horrid man, one -would believe he is aware that I propose this evening -to beg for charities at the Arvillard church -in aid of the work of the propaganda! Father -Olivieri is to describe from the pulpit his missionary -trips into Thibet, his captivity and martyrdom, -while Mlle. Bachellery will sing the ‘Ave Maria’ -of Gounod, and I am going to have the greatest -fun on our return to the hotel, marching through -all the little dark streets by lantern-light, just like -a regular ‘retreat’ with torches.</p> - -<p>“If that is a consultation on my health which -M. Bouchereau was giving me, I don’t want it; -it is too late. In the first place, my very dear -sir! I have full permission from my little doctor, -who is far more amiable than you are and has -even allowed me to take a turn at a waltz in the -drawing-room at the close. Oh, only a little one, -of course; besides, if I dance a little too much, -everybody goes for me! They do not understand -that I am robust, notwithstanding a figure like a -long lead-pencil and that a Parisian girl never gets -ill from dancing too much. ‘Look out now—don’t<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span> -tire yourself too much.’ This woman will -bring me up my shawl, that man will close the -window at my back for fear that I should catch -cold; but the most interested of all is the youth -with springs, because he has discovered that I -have a devilish deal more springs than his sister.</p> - -<p>“Poor girl, that would not be difficult! Between -you and me, I believe that, rendered desperate by -the frigidity of Alice Bachellery, this young gentleman -has retired upon me and proposes to make -love to me—but alas, how he loses his labor; for -my heart is taken, it is all Bompard’s!—O, well, -after all, no, it is <i>not</i> Bompard’s, and you know -that too. The personage in my romance is not -Bompard, it is—it is—ha, ha! so much the worse -for you! my hour is up; I will tell you some other -day, Miss Haughtiness!”</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.<br> - -<span class="smaller">A WATERING-PLACE (<i>continued</i>).</span></h2> -</div> - - - -<p class="chapfirst">The morning on which the <i>Bathers’ Gazette</i> announced -that his Excellency, the Minister of Public -Instruction, with his secretary Bompard and staff, -had taken quarters in the Alpes Dauphinoises, -great was the demoralization in the surrounding -hotels. It just happened that La Laita had been -keeping dark for two days a Catholic bishop from -Geneva in order to produce him at the proper -moment, as well as a Councillor-General from the -Department of the Isère, a Lieutenant-Judge from -Tahiti, an architect from Boston—in fact, a whole -cargo; La Chevrette was on the point of receiving -also a “Deputy from the Rhône and family.” But -the Deputy, the Lieutenant-Judge and all disappeared, -lost in the illustrious mass of flame, the -flame of glory, which followed Numa Roumestan -everywhere!</p> - -<p>People talked only of him, occupied themselves -about him only. Any pretext was good enough -to introduce oneself into the Alpes Dauphinoises -in order to pass before the little drawing-room -on the ground floor looking into the garden where -the Minister took his meals with his ladies and his -secretary; to see him taking a hand in a game of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span> -bowls, dear to Southern Frenchmen, with Father -Olivieri of the Missions, a holy man and terribly -hairy, who, along of having lived among savages, -had taken unto himself their manners and customs, -uttering terrible cries when taking aim and brandishing -the balls above his head when letting fly as -if they were tomahawks.</p> - -<p>The Minister’s handsome features, the oiliness -of his manners, won him all hearts, but more -especially his sympathy for the poor. The day -after his arrival the two waiters who served on the -first floor announced at the hotel office that the -Minister was going to take them to Paris for his -personal servants. Now, as they were good workmen, -Mme. Laugeron pulled a very wry face, but -allowed nothing to be seen by his Excellency, -whose presence was of such great importance and -honor to her hotel. The prefect and the rector -made their appearance from Grenoble in full fig to -present their respects to Roumestan. The Abbot -of La Grande Chartreuse—for Roumestan made a -pleading on their side against the Prémontrés and -their liqueur—sent him with the greatest pomp a -case of extra-fine chartreuse; and finally the Prefect -of Chambéry came to get his orders for the -laying of the corner-stone for the new college, a -good occasion for a manifesto in a speech and for -a revolution in the methods at the universities.</p> - -<p>But the Minister asked for a little rest. The -labors of the session had wearied him; he wanted -to have a chance to get a breath, to live quietly in -the midst of his family and prepare at leisure this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span> -Chambéry speech, which had such a considerable -importance. And the prefect understood that perfectly -well; he only asked to be notified forty-eight -hours before in order that he might give the -necessary brilliancy to the ceremony. The corner-stone -had been waiting for two months and would -naturally wait longer for the good-will of the illustrious -orator.</p> - -<p>As a matter of fact, what kept Roumestan at -Arvillard was neither the necessity for rest nor the -leisure needed by that marvellous improvisator—upon -whom time and reflection had the same effect -as humidity upon phosphorus—but the presence -of Alice Bachellery. After five months of an impassioned -flirtation, Numa had got no further with his -little one than he was on the day of their first -meeting. He haunted the house, enjoyed the -savory bouillabaisse cooked by Mme. Bachellery, -listened to the songs of the former director of the -Folies Bordelaises, and repaid these slight favors -with a flood of presents, bouquets, Ministerial -theatre boxes, tickets to meetings of the Institute -and the Chamber of Deputies, and even with the -diploma of Officer of Academy for the song-writer—all -this without getting his love affair one bit -ahead.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, he was not one of those fresh hands -who are ready to go fishing at every hour without -having tried the water beforehand and thoroughly -baited it; only he was engaged in an affair with -the cleverest kind of trout, who amused herself -with his precautions, now and then nibbled at the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span> -bait and sometimes gave him the impression that -she was caught; but then, all of a sudden, with -one of her bounds she would skip away, leaving -him with his mouth dry with longing and his heart -shaken by the motions of her undulating, subtle -and tempting spine.</p> - -<p>Nothing was more enervating than this little -game. Numa could have caused it to stop at any -minute by giving the little girl what she demanded, -namely, a nomination as prima donna at the opera, -a contract for five years, large extras, allowance -for fire, the right to have her name displayed—all -that stipulated on paper bearing the government -stamp, and not merely by a simple clasp of the -hand, or by Cadaillac’s “Here’s my hand on it!” -She believed no more in that than she did in the -expressions, “You may depend upon me for it”—“It’s -just the same as if you had it”—phrases with -which for the past five months Roumestan had -been trying to dupe her.</p> - -<p>Roumestan found himself between two pressing -demands. “Yes,” said Cadaillac, “all right—if -you will renew my own lease.” Now Cadaillac was -used up and done with; his presence at the head -of the first musical theatre was a scandal, a blot, a -rotten heritage from the Imperial administration. -The press would certainly raise an outcry against -a gambler who had failed three times and was not -allowed to wear his officer’s cross, against a cynical -<i>poseur</i> who dissipated the public money without -any shame.</p> - -<p>Finally, wearied out with not being able to allow<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span> -herself to be captured, Alice broke the fish-line and -skipped away, carrying the fish-hook with her.</p> - -<p>One day the Minister arrived at the Bachellery -house and found it empty, except for the father, -who, in order to console him, sang his last popular -refrain for his benefit:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“<i>Donne-moi d’quoi q’t’as, t’auras d’quoi qu’ j’ai.</i>”</div> - <div class="verse indent0">(Gimme a bite o’ yourn, my boy, I’ll gi’ you a bite o’ mine.)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>He forced himself to be patient for a month, -and then went to see the fertile song-writer again, -who was good enough to sing him his new song -<span class="lock">beginning—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“<i>Quand le saucisson va, tout va,</i>”</div> - <div class="verse indent0">(Sausage gone, all is gone,)—</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="afterpoetry">and let him know that the ladies, finding themselves -delightfully situated at the baths, had announced -their intention to double the term of -their sojourn.</p> - -<p>Then it was that Roumestan remembered that -he was expected for the laying of the corner-stone -of the college at Chambéry, a promise he had -made off-hand and which probably would have remained -off-hand if Chambéry had not been in the -neighborhood of Arvillard, whither, by a providential -piece of chance, Jarras, the doctor and -friend of the Minister, had just sent Mlle. Le -Quesnoy.</p> - -<p>Immediately upon his arrival they met each -other in the garden of the hotel. She was tremendously -surprised to see him, just as if that -very morning she had not read the pompous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span> -announcement of his coming in the daily gazette, -just as if for eight days past, through the thousand -voices of its forests, its fountains, its innumerable -echoes, the whole valley had not been announcing -the arrival of his Excellency.</p> - -<p>“What! you here?”</p> - -<p>Roumestan, with his Ministerial air, imposing -and stiff:</p> - -<p>“I am here to see my sister-in-law.”</p> - -<p>Moreover he was surprised to find that Miss -Bachellery was still at Arvillard; he had thought -her gone this long while.</p> - -<p>“Well, come now, I have got to take care of -myself, haven’t I? since Cadaillac pretends that -my voice is so sick!”</p> - -<p>Then she gave him a little Parisian nod with -the ends of her eyelashes and waltzed off, uttering -a clear roulade, a delicious undersong like the -note of a blackbird, which one hears long after -one loses the bird from sight.</p> - -<p>Only from that day on she changed her manner. -It was no longer the precocious child forever -bouncing about the hotel, roqueting Master Paul, -playing with the swing and other innocent games; -it was no longer the girl who was only happy with -the children, disarmed the most severe mammas -and most morose ecclesiastics by the ingenuousness -of her laugh and her promptness at the -sacred services. In place of that appeared Alice -Bachellery, the diva of the Bouffes, the pretty -tomboy, lively in manners and setting the pace, -who surrounded herself with young whipper-snappers,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span> -got up impromptu festivities, picnics -and suppers, whose doubtful reputation her mother, -who was always present, only partly succeeded in -making respectable.</p> - -<p>Every morning a basket-wagon with a white -canopy bordered with fringed curtains drew up to -the front door an hour before these fine ladies -came downstairs in their light-toned gowns. Meanwhile -about them pranced and caracoled a jolly -cavalcade consisting of everybody in the way of -a free and unmarried person in the Alpes Dauphinoises -and the neighboring hotels—the Assistant -Justice, the American architect and more -especially the young man on springs, whom the -young diva seemed no longer to be driving to -despair by her innocent infantilities. The carriage -well-crammed with cloaks against their -return, a big basket of provisions on the box, -they swept through the country at a sharp rate -on the road for the Chartreuse of St. Hugon. -Three hours were spent on the mountain along -zigzag, precipitous roads on a level with the -black tops of pines that scramble down precipices -toward torrents all white with foam; or else in -the direction of Brame-farine, where one breakfasts -on mountain cheese washed down by a little -claret very lively in its nature, which makes the -Alps dance before one’s eyes—Mont Blanc and -all that marvellous horizon of glaciers and blue -peaks which one discovers up there, together with -little lakes, fragments shining at the foot of the -crags like so many broken pieces of sky.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span></p> - -<p>Then they came down “<i>à la ramasse</i>,” seated -upon sledges of branches without any backs to -lean against, which made it necessary to grasp -the branches frantically, launched headlong as -they were down the declivities, steered by a mountaineer -who goes straight ahead over the velvet -of the upland pastures and the pebbly bed of dry -torrents, and passing with the same swiftness a -section of rock or the big gap of a river. At last -it lands you down below overwhelmed, bruised -and suffocated, your whole body in a quiver and -your eyes rolling with the sensation of having -survived a most horrible earthquake.</p> - -<p>And the day’s trip was not complete unless the -entire cavalcade had been drenched on the way -by one of those mountain storms, bright with lightning -flashes and streaks of hail, which frighten the -horses, make the landscape dramatic and prepare -a sensational return. Little Bachellery would be -seated on the box in some man’s overcoat, the -tassel of her cap decorated with a feather of the -Pyrennean partridge. She would hold the reins, -whip the horses hard in order to warm herself -and, when once landed from the coach, recount -all the dangers of the excursion with the greatest -vivacity, a high sharp voice and brilliant eyes, -showing the lively reaction of her youthful body -against the cold downpour—all with a little -shudder of fear.</p> - -<p>It would have been well if then at least she had -felt the need of a good sleep, one of those leaden -slumbers which trips in the mountains produce.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span> -Not at all; till early morning, in the rooms of -these women, there were goings on without end—laughter, -songs, popping bottles, meals brought -up at improper hours, card-tables pushed around -for baccarat—and all this over the head of the -Minister, whose room happened to be just underneath.</p> - -<p>Several times he complained of it to Mme. -Laugeron, who was very much torn between her -desire to be agreeable to his Excellency and fear -of causing clients with such good paying qualities -discontent. And besides, has any one the right -to be very exacting in these hotels at the baths -which are always being turned upside down by -departures and arrivals in the midst of the night, -by trunks that are dragged about, by big boots -and iron-bound Alpine sticks of mountain climbers, -who are engaged in making ready for the ascent -long before daybreak? And then, besides, the fits -of coughing of the sick people, those horrible, -incessant coughs which seem to tear people in -spasms, appearing to combine the elements of a -sob, a death rattle and the crowing of a husky -cock.</p> - -<p>These giddy nights, heavy July nights, which -Roumestan passed turning and twisting on his -bed, filled with pressing thoughts, while upstairs -sounded clear in the night the laughter of his -neighbors, broken by single notes and snatches of -song—these nights he might have employed writing -his speech for Chambéry; but he was too -much agitated and too angry. He had to control<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span> -himself not to run upstairs to the next floor and -drive off at the tips of his boots the young man -on springs, the American and that shameless -Assistant Justice, that dishonor to French jurisprudence -in the colonies, so as to be able to seize -that naughty little scoundrel by the neck, by her -turtle-dove’s neck puffed out with roulades, and at -the same time say to her just once for all:</p> - -<p>“Isn’t it about time that you ceased making -me suffer in this way?”</p> - -<p>In order to quiet himself and drive off these -dreams and other visions even more vivid and -painful he lit his candle again, called to Bompard, -asleep in the adjoining room—his comrade, -his echo, always ready at command—and then -the two would talk about the girl. It was for that -very purpose he had brought him along, having -torn him away with no little trouble from the business -of establishing his artificial hatcher. Bompard -consoled himself by talking of his venture -to Father Olivieri, who was thoroughly acquainted -with the raising of ostriches, having lived at Cape -Town a long while. The tales told by the priest -interested the imaginative Bompard very much -more than Numa’s affair with little Bachellery—the -Father’s voyages, his martyrdom, the different -ways in which the robust body of the man -had been tortured in different countries—that -buccaneer’s body burnt and sawed and stretched -on the wheel, a sort of sample card of refinements -in human cruelty—and all that along with the -cool fan of silky and tickly ostrich plumes dreamt<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span> -of by the promoter. But Bompard was so well -trained to his business of shadow that even at that -time of night Numa found him ready to warm up -and be indignant in sympathy with him and to -express, with his magnificent head under the silken -ends of a night scarf, the emotions of anger, irony -or sorrow, according as the talk fell upon the false -eyelashes of the artificial little girl, on her sixteen -years, which certainly were equal to twenty-four, -or on the immorality of a mother who could take -part in such scandalous orgies. Finally, when -Roumestan, having declaimed and gesticulated -well and laid bare the weakness of his amorous -heart, put out his candle, saying “Let’s try to -sleep, come on,” then Bompard would use the -advantage of the darkness to say to him before -going to bed:</p> - -<p>“Well, in your place, I know well enough what -I would do.”</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - -<p>“I would renew the contract with Cadaillac.”</p> - -<p>“Never!”</p> - -<p>And then he would plunge violently under the -bed-clothes in order to protect himself from the -rowdy-dow overhead.</p> - -<p>One afternoon at the time for music, that hour -during life at the baths which is given over to -coquetry and gossip, whilst all the bathers, crowded -in front of the establishment as if on the poop of -a ship, came and went, slowly circled about, or -took their seats on the camp-chairs arranged in -three rows, the Minister had darted into an empty<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span> -alley in order to avoid Mlle. Bachellery, whom he -saw coming clad in a stunning toilet of blue and -red, escorted by her staff. There, all alone, seated -in the corner of a bench and with his pre-occupation -strong upon him, infected by the melancholy -of the hour and that distant music, he was mechanically -stirring about with his umbrella the spots of -fire with which the alley was strewn by the setting -sun, when a slow shade passing across his sunlight -made him raise his eyes. It was Bouchereau, the -celebrated doctor, very pale and puffy, dragging -his feet after him. They knew each other in the -way that all Parisians at a certain height of society -know each other. It chanced that Bouchereau, -who had not been out for several days, felt in -a sociable frame of mind; he took a seat; they -fell to talking: “Is it true that you are ill, -Doctor?”</p> - -<p>“Very ill,” said the other with his manner of -a wild boar, “a hereditary disease—a hypertrophy -of the heart. My mother died of it and my -sisters also. Only, I shall last less long than they, -because of my horrible business; I have about a -year to live—or two years at the most.”</p> - -<p>There was nothing except useless phrases with -which to answer this great scientist, this infallible -diagnoser who was talking of his death with such -quiet assurance. Roumestan understood it, as in -silence he pondered that there indeed were sorrows -a good deal more serious than his own. -Bouchereau went on without looking at him, having -that vague eye and that relentless sequence of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span> -ideas which the habit of the professorial chair and -his lectures give to a professor:</p> - -<p>“We physicians, you see, are supposed not to -feel anything because we have such an air with -us. They think that in the sick person we are taking -care of the sickness only, never the being, the -human creature suffering pain. What an error! -I have seen my master Dupuytren, who was supposed -to be a pretty tough chicken, weeping hot -tears before a poor little sufferer from diphtheria -who told him very quietly that it was an awful bore -to die ... and then those heart-breaking appeals -from anguished mothers, those passionate hands -which clasp your arm: ‘My child, save my child!’ ... and -then the fathers who stiffen themselves up -and say to you in a very masculine voice, but with -great big tears running down their cheeks: ‘You -will pull him through, won’t you, Doctor?’ It -is all very well to harden oneself, but such despairs -break your heart, and that is a nice thing, isn’t -it, when one’s own heart is already attacked? -Forty years of practice and every day becoming -more nervous and sensitive—it is my patients -who have killed me! I am dying from the sufferings -of other people!”</p> - -<p>“But I thought you did not accept patients any -more, Doctor,” said the Minister, who was deeply -moved.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no; never any more, for nobody’s sake! -I might see a man fall dead to the ground there -in front of me and I wouldn’t even bend down. -You understand? It is enough to turn one’s blood<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[244]</span> -at last, this sickness of mine, which I have increased -by all the sicknesses of others! Why, I -want to live; there is nothing else but life!”</p> - -<p>With all his pallor he excited himself and his -nostrils, pinched with a look of morbidness, drank -in the light air filled with lukewarm aromas, -vibrating musical instruments and cries of birds. -He continued with a heart-broken sigh:</p> - -<p>“I do not practise any more, but I always -remain the doctor. I preserve that fatal gift of -diagnosis, that horrible second sight for the latent -symptom, for suffering which the sufferer hopes -to conceal, and which at a mere glance at the -passer-by I perceive in the person who walks and -talks and acts in the full force of his being, showing -me the man about to die to-morrow, the -motionless corpse. And all that just as clearly -as I see <i>it</i> advancing towards me, the fit which is -going to do for me, that last fainting-fit from which -nothing can ever bring me back.”</p> - -<p>“It is frightful!” murmured Numa, who felt himself -turning pale. A poltroon in the face of sickness -and death, like all Provençal people, those -people so crazy to live, he turned his face away -from the redoubtable scientist and did not dare -look him in the face for fear he might read on -his own rubicund features the warning signs of -his, Numa’s, approaching end.</p> - -<p>“Oh! this terrible skill at diagnosis, which they -all envy me, how sad it makes me, how it ruins the -little remnant of life which remains to me! Why, -look here: I know a luckless woman here whose<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[245]</span> -son died of laryngeal consumption ten or twelve -years ago. I had seen him twice and I alone -among all the physicians gave warning of the -seriousness of the malady. Well, to-day I come -across that same mother with her young daughter; -and I may say that the presence of those unfortunate -ones destroys the good of my sojourn -at the baths and does me more harm than my -treatment will ever do me good. They pursue -me, they wish to consult me, and as for me I -absolutely refuse to do it. No good of auscultating -that child in order to read her condemnation! -It was enough the other day to have seen her -voracity while seizing a bowl of raspberries, and -during the inhalation to have seen her hand lying -on her knees, a thin hand, the nails of which are -puffed up and rise above the fingers as if they -were ready to detach themselves. That girl has -the consumption her brother had; she will die -before the year is out. But let other people tell -them that; I have given enough of those dagger-stabs -which have turned again to stab me. I want -no more.”</p> - -<p>Roumestan had got up, very much frightened.</p> - -<p>“Do you know the name of those ladies, -Doctor?”</p> - -<p>“No; they sent me their card and I would not -even see them. I only know that they are at our -hotel.”</p> - -<p>And all of a sudden, looking down the alley, -he cried:</p> - -<p>“By George, there they are!—I am off—”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[246]</span></p> - -<p>Away down there at the end of the alley, on the -little gravelled circle whence the band was sending -its last note, there was a movement of umbrellas -and light-colored gowns among the foliage, just -as the first strokes of the dinner bells were heard -from the hotels. The ladies Le Quesnoy detached -themselves from a group of lively, chatting -people, Hortense tall and slender in the sunlight, -in a toilet of muslin and valenciennes, a hat -trimmed with roses and in her hand a bouquet of -the same kind of rose bought in the park.</p> - -<p>“With whom were you talking just now, Numa? -We thought it was Dr. Bouchereau.”</p> - -<p>There she was before him, dazzling in her youth -and so brilliant, on that happy day, that her -mother herself began to lose her fears and allowed -a little of that infectious gayety to be reflected on -her ancient face.</p> - -<p>“Yes, it was Bouchereau, who was recounting -to me his miseries; he’s pretty low, poor fellow!”</p> - -<p>And Numa, looking at her, reassured himself.</p> - -<p>“The man is crazy; it is not possible; it’s his -own death he is dragging about with him and -prognosticates everywhere.”</p> - -<p>At that moment Bompard appeared, walking -very quickly and brandishing a newspaper.</p> - -<p>“What is up?” asked the Minister.</p> - -<p>“Great news! The tabor-player has made his -début—”</p> - -<p>They heard Hortense murmur: “At last!” and -Numa was radiant.</p> - -<p>“Success, was it not?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[247]</span></p> - -<p>“Do you think so? I have not read the -article; but here are three columns on the front -sheet of the <i>Messenger!</i>”</p> - -<p>“There’s one more whom I discovered!” said -the Minister, who had seated himself again with -his thumbs in the armholes of his waist-coat. -“Come on, read it to us.”</p> - -<p>Mme. Le Quesnoy having called attention to -the fact that the dinner-bell had sounded, Hortense -hastily answered that it was only the first -bell, and, her cheek resting on her hand, she -listened in a pretty attitude of smiling expectancy. -Bompard read:</p> - -<p>“Is it due to the Minister of the Fine Arts or -to the Director of the Opera that the Parisian -public suffered such a grotesque mystification as -that with which it was victimized last night?—”</p> - -<p>They all started, with the exception of Bompard, -who, under the impetus of his gait as a fine reader, -lulled by the sonorous sound of his own voice and -without taking in what he was reading, looked from -one to the other, surprised at their astonishment.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Numa, “go on, go on!”</p> - -<p>“In any case, it is the Honorable Roumestan -who must shoulder the responsibility. He it is -who has lugged up from his province this savage -and odd-looking piper, this goat-whistler—”</p> - -<p>“Well, there certainly are some people who are -very mean,” interrupted the young girl, who had -turned quite pale under her roses. The reader -continued, with eyes staring in horror at the dreadful -things he saw coming:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[248]</span></p> - -<p>“—this goat whistler; to him is due that our -Academy of Music appeared for the space of an -evening like the return from the fair at Saint -Cloud. In truth it would take a very crack fifer -indeed to believe that Paris—”</p> - -<p>The Minister rudely dragged the newspaper -from his hand.</p> - -<p>“I hope you don’t intend to read us that idiocy -to the bitter end, do you? it is quite enough to -have brought it to us at all.”</p> - -<p>He ran down the article with his eye, with one -of those quick glances of the public man who is -used to reading the invectives of the daily press. -“A provincial Minister—a pretty clog-dancer—Valmajour’s -own Roumestan—hissed the Ministry -and smashed his tabor—”</p> - -<p>He had enough of it, thrust the virulent paper -down into the bottom of his pocket, then rose, -puffing with the rage that swelled his face, and -taking Mme. Le Quesnoy by the arm:</p> - -<p>“Come, let’s go to dinner, Mamma—this should -teach me not to fret myself for the sake of a parcel -of nobodies.”</p> - -<p>All four marched along together, Hortense with -her eyes upon the ground in a state of consternation.</p> - -<p>“This is a matter concerning an artist of great -talent,” said she, trying to strengthen her voice, a -little veiled in its tone. “One ought not to hold -him responsible for the injustice done him by the -public nor for the irony of the newspapers.”</p> - -<p>Roumestan came to a dead stop.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[249]</span></p> - -<p>“Talent—talent!—<i>bé</i>, yes—I don’t deny that—but -much too exotic—” and, raising his -umbrella:</p> - -<p>“Let us beware of the South, little sister, let’s -beware of the South—don’t work it too hard—Paris -will grow weary.”</p> - -<p>And he resumed his walk with measured steps, -quiet and cool as if he were a citizen of Copenhagen. -The silence was unbroken save for the -crackling of the gravel under his feet, which in -certain circumstances seems to indicate the crushing -or crumbling effect of a fit of rage or of a -dream.</p> - -<p>When they reached the front of the hotel, from -the ten windows of whose enormous dining-room -there came the noise of hungry spoons clattering -on bottoms of plates, Hortense stopped, and, raising -her head:</p> - -<p>“So then, this poor boy—you’re going to -abandon him?”</p> - -<p>“What is to be done?—there is no use fighting -against it—since Paris doesn’t care for him.”</p> - -<p>She gave him an indignant glance which was -almost one of disdain.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it is horrible, what you are saying; well, -as for me, I am prouder than you are; I am true -to my enthusiasms!”</p> - -<p>She crossed the porch of the hotel with two -skips.</p> - -<p>“Hortense, the second bell has sounded!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, I know—I am coming down.”</p> - -<p>She ran up to her room and locked the door in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[250]</span> -order not to be interfered with. Opening her -desk, one of those natty trifles by the aid of which -a Parisian woman can make personal to herself even -the chamber of an inn, she pulled out one of the -photographs of herself which she had had taken -in the head-dress and scarf of an Arles woman, -wrote a line underneath it and affixed her name. -Whilst she was putting on the address the bell in -the tower of Arvillard sounded the hour across the -sombre violet that filled the valley, as if to give -solemnity to what she had dared to do.</p> - -<p>“Six o’clock.”</p> - -<p>From the torrent the mist was rising in wandering -and flaky masses of white. In the amphitheatre -of forests and mountains and the silver -plume of the glacier, in the rose-colored evening, -she took note of the smallest details of that silent -and reposeful moment, just as on the calendar one -marks some single date among all others; just as -in a book one underscores a passage which has -caused one emotion; dreaming aloud she said:</p> - -<p>“It is my life, my entire life I am risking at -this moment.”</p> - -<p>She took as witness the solemnity of the evening, -the majesty of nature, the tremendous repose -of everything about her.</p> - -<p>Her entire life that she was engaging? Poor -little girl! if she had only known how little that -was!</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>A few days after this the Le Quesnoy ladies left -the hotel, Hortense’s treatment having ended.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[251]</span> -Although reassured by the healthy look of her -child and by what the little doctor said concerning -the miracle performed by the nymph of the -waters, her mother was only too glad to have -done with that life, which in its smallest details -recalled to her a past martyrdom.</p> - -<p>“And how about you, Numa?”</p> - -<p>O, as for him, he intended to stay a week or -two longer, finish a bit of medical treatment and -take advantage of the quiet which their departure -would afford him in order to write that famous -speech. It would make a tremendous row, the -news of which they would get at Paris. By George! -Le Quesnoy would not like it much!</p> - -<p>Then all of a sudden, Hortense, though ready to -leave, and notwithstanding she was happy at returning -home to see the beloved absent ones whom -distance made even more dear to her—for her -imagination reached even to her heart—Hortense -suddenly felt sorrow at leaving this beautiful country -and all the hotel society and her friends of -three weeks, to whom she had no idea she had -become so much attached. Ah, ye loving natures! -how you give yourselves out! how everything -grasps you and then what pain ensues when -breaking these invisible yet sensitive threads!</p> - -<p>People had been so kind to her, so full of attention; -and at the last hour so many outstretched -hands pressed about the carriage, so many tender -expressions! Young girls would kiss her: -“We shall have no more fun without you.” Then -they promised to write to each other and exchanged<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[252]</span> -mementos, sweet-smelling boxes and -paper-cutters made of mother-of-pearl with this -inscription in a shimmering blue like the lakes: -“Arvillard, 1876.” And while M. Laugeron -slipped a bottle of superfine Chartreuse into her -travelling-sack, she saw, up there behind the pane -of her chamber window, the mountaineer’s wife -who had been her servant dabbing her eyes with -an enormous handkerchief of the color of wine-lees -and heard a husky voice murmur in her ear: -“Plenty of spring, my dear young lady, always -plenty of spring!” It was her friend the consumptive, -who, having jumped up on the wheel, -poured out upon her a look of good-bye from two -haggard and feverish eyes, but eyes sparkling with -energy, will and a bit of emotion besides. O, -what kind people! what kind people!...</p> - -<p>Hortense could not speak for fear of crying.</p> - -<p>“Good-bye, good-bye, all!”</p> - -<p>The Minister accompanied the ladies as far as -the distant railway station and took his seat in -front of them. Crack goes the whip, jingle go the -bells! All of a sudden Hortense cries out:</p> - -<p>“Oh, my umbrella!” She had had it in her -hand not a moment before. Twenty people rush -off to find it: “The umbrella, the umbrella”—not -in the bedroom, not in the drawing-room; -doors slam; the hotel is searched from top to -bottom.</p> - -<p>“Don’t look for it; I know where it is.”</p> - -<p>Always lively, the young girl jumps out of the -carriage and runs to the garden, toward the grove<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[253]</span> -of walnuts, where even that morning she had been -adding several chapters to the romance that was -being written in her crazy little head. There lay -the umbrella, thrown across the bench, a bit of -herself left in that favorite spot, something which -was very like her. What delicious hours had -been passed in this nook of rich verdure! what -confidences had gone off on the wings of the bees -and butterflies! Without a doubt she would -never return thither again. This thought caused -her heart to contract and kept her there. At -that moment she found everything charming, even -the long grinding sound of the swing.</p> - -<p>“Get out! you make me weary—”</p> - -<p>It was the voice of Mlle. Bachellery who was -furious at being left because of this departure -and, believing herself alone with her mother, was -talking to her in her habitual tongue. Hortense -thought of the filial flatteries which had so often -jarred upon her nerves and laughed to herself -while returning to the carriage. Then, at the -turn of an alley, she found herself face to face -with Bouchereau. She stepped aside, but he laid -hold of her arm.</p> - -<p>“So you are going to leave us, my child?”</p> - -<p>“Why, yes, sir.”</p> - -<p>She hardly knew what to answer, startled by -this meeting and surprised because it was the first -time that he had ever spoken to her. Then he -took her two hands in his own and held her that -way in front of him, his arms wide apart, and gazed -upon her fixedly from his piercing eyes under<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[254]</span> -their brushy white brows. Then his lips and -hands, his whole body trembled, while a rush of -blood colored deeply his pallid face.</p> - -<p>“Well, then, good-bye, happy journey!” And -without another word he drew her to him and -pressed her to his breast with the tenderness of -a grandfather and then hastened away with both -hands pressed against his heart, which seemed -about to break.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[255]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.<br> - -<span class="smaller">THE SPEECH AT CHAMBÉRY.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“<i>Non, non, je me fais hironde—e—elle</i></div> - <div class="verse indent0"><i>Et je m’envo—o—le à tire d’ai—le—</i>”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="chapfirst">The little Bachellery girl, clad in a fantastic cloak -with a blue silk capuchon, to go with a little toque -wound round with a great big veil, sang before her -glass while finishing the buttoning of her gloves; -her clear, sharp voice had risen that morning in -full limpidity and in the best of humors. Spick -and span for the excursion, the gay little body of -her had a pleasant fragrance of fresh toilet and -new gown, very neat and trig in contrast with the -sloppy state of the hotel bedroom, where the remainder -of a late supper was to be seen on the -table, higgledy-piggledy with poker chips, cards -and candles—all this close to the tumbled bed -and a big bath-tub full of that gleaming “little -milk” of Arvillard, so fine for calming the nerves -and making the skin of the ladies bathing there -as smooth as satin. Downstairs the basket-wagon -was waiting, the horses shaking their bells and a -full escort of youths caracoling in front of the -porch.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[256]</span></p> - -<p>Just as the toilet was finished a knock came at -the door.</p> - -<p>“Come in!”</p> - -<p>Roumestan came in, much excited, and held out -to her a large envelope:</p> - -<p>“There, Mlle—O! read—read—”</p> - -<p>It was her engagement at the opera for five -years, with all the appointments she had wished, -with the right of having her name printed big, and -everything. When she had read it, article by article, -coldly and with perfect poise, down to the -great coarse signature of Cadaillac, then and only -then she took one step towards the Minister, and, -raising her veil, which was drawn closely about her -face to keep out the dust on the trip, standing very -close to him, her rosy beak in the air:</p> - -<p>“You are very good—I love you—”</p> - -<p>Nothing more than that was needed to make the -man of the public forget all the embarrassments -which this engagement was going to cause him. -He restrained himself, however, and remained stiff, -cold and frowning like a crag.</p> - -<p>“Now, I have kept my promise and I withdraw—I -do not care to disarrange your picnic -party—”</p> - -<p>“My picnic? Oh, yes, that’s so—we’re going -to Château Bayard.”</p> - -<p>And then, casting both her arms around his neck, -she said in a wheedling voice:</p> - -<p>“You’ve got to come with us; yes—O, yes, I -tell you.”</p> - -<p>She brushed her long pencilled eyelashes across<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[257]</span> -his cheek and even nibbled a little at his statuesque -chin, but not very hard, with the ends of her little -teeth.</p> - -<p>“What! with those young people? Why, it is -impossible. You cannot dream of it?”</p> - -<p>“Those young people? Much do I care for -those young people! I will just let them rip—Mamma -will let them know—oh, they are used -to it!—You hear, Mamma?”</p> - -<p>“I’m going,” said Mme. Bachellery, whom one -could see in the next chamber with her foot on -a chair, trying to force over her red stockings -a pair of cloth gaiters much too small for her. -She made the Minister one of her famous courtesies -from the Folies Bordelaises and hurried downstairs -to send the young gentlemen flying.</p> - -<p>“Keep a horse for Bompard; he will come with -us,” cried the little girl after her; and Numa, -touched by this attention, enjoyed the delicious -pleasure of holding this pretty girl in his arms and -hearing all that impertinent gang of young people -walk off at a funeral pace with their ears drooping. -Many a time had their jumpings and skippings -caused his heart a lively time. One kiss applied -for a long moment on a smile which promised -everything—then she disengaged herself.</p> - -<p>“Hurry up and dress yourself; I’m in haste to -be on the way.”</p> - -<p>What a buzz of curiosity through the hotel, what -a movement behind the green blinds, when it was -known that the Minister had joined the picnic at -Château Bayard and that his big white waistcoat<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[258]</span> -and the Panama hat shading his Roman face were -seen displayed in the basket-wagon in front of the -little singer! After all, just as Father Olivieri who -had learned a lot during his voyages remarked, -what harm was there in it, anyhow? Didn’t her -mother accompany them, and Château Bayard, a -historical monument, did it or did it not belong to -the public buildings under Ministerial control? -So let us not be so intolerant, great Heavens! -especially in regard to men who give up their -entire life to the defence of the right doctrines and -our holy religion!</p> - -<p>“Bompard is not coming—what’s the matter -with him?” murmured Roumestan, impatient at -having to wait there before the hotel exposed to -all those plunging glances which volleyed upon -him notwithstanding the canopy of the carriage. -At a window in the first story an extraordinary -something appeared, a something white and round -and exotic, which spake in the voice of the former -chieftain of Circassians, “Go on ahead, I’ll <i>rejine</i> -you!”</p> - -<p>Just as if they had only been waiting for the -word, the two mules, low in shoulder but solid in -hoof, got away shaking their travelling-bells, -crossed the park in three jumps and whirled -past the bathing establishment.</p> - -<p>“Ware! ware!”</p> - -<p>The frightened bathers and sedan-chairs hurried -to one side; the bathing-maids, the big pockets of -their aprons full of money and colored tickets, -appeared at the entrance of the galleries; the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[259]</span> -massage men, as naked as Bedoweens under their -woollen blankets, showed themselves up to the waist -on the stairway of the furnaces; the blue shades of -the inhalation halls were thrust aside; everybody -wished to see the Minister and the diva pass.</p> - -<p>But already they are far away, whirled at railway -speed through the intersecting labyrinth of -Arvillard’s little black streets, over the sharp cobblestones, -close together and veined with sulphur and -fire, out of which the carriage strikes sparks as it -bounds along, shaking the low walls of the leprous-colored -houses and causing heads to appear at -the windows decked with placards. At the thresholds -of the shops where they sell iron-pointed -canes, parasols, climbing-irons, chalk stones, minerals, -crystals and other catch-penny things for -bathers appear heads which bow and brows that -uncover at the sight of the Minister. The very -people affected with goitre recognize him and -salute with their foolish and raucous cries the -grand master of the University of France, while -the good ladies seated with him proudly draw -themselves up stiff and most worshipful opposite, -feeling well the honor which is being done -them. They only lounge at their ease when they -are quite clear of the village lands, on the fine -turnpike toward Pontcharra, where the mules stop -to blow at the foot of the tower of Le Truil, which -Bompard had fixed upon as a trysting-place.</p> - -<p>The minutes pass, but no Bompard! They -know he is a good horseman because he has so -often boasted of it; they are astonished and irritated—particularly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[260]</span> -Numa—who is impatient to -get on down that even white road which seems -absolutely without an end, and get farther into -that day which seems to open up like a life full of -hopes and adventures. Finally, from a cloud of -dust out of which rises a frightened voice that -pants out <i>Ho! la! Ho! la!</i> emerges the head -of Bompard, covered by one of those pith helmets -spread with white cloth, having a vague look of a -life-boat, like those used by the British army in -India, which the Provençal had brought along -with the intention of dramatizing and making imposing -his trip to the baths, having allowed his -hatter to believe that he was off for Bombay or -Calcutta.</p> - -<p>“Come on, my dear boy!”</p> - -<p>Bompard tosses his head with a tragical air. -Evidently at his departure things had taken place; -the Circassian must have been giving the people -of the hotel a very queer idea of his powers of -equilibrium, because his back and arms are soiled -with large spots of dust.</p> - -<p>“Wretched horse!” said he, bowing to the -ladies, while the basket-wagon started once more, -“wretched horse! but I have forced him to a -walk!”</p> - -<p>He had forced him so well to a walk that now -the strange beast would not go ahead at all, prancing -and turning about on one spot like a sick cat, -notwithstanding all the efforts made by his rider. -The carriage was already far away.</p> - -<p>“Are you coming, Bompard?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[261]</span></p> - -<p>“Go on ahead, I’ll <i>rejine</i> you!” cried he once -more in his finest Marseilles twang; then he made -a despairing gesture and they saw him rushing off -in the direction of Arvillard in a furious whirl of -hoofs. Everybody thought: “He must have forgotten -something,” and nobody thought about him -further.</p> - -<p>The turnpike curved about the hills, a broad -highroad of France set with walnut-trees, having -to the left forests of chestnut and pines growing on -terraces and on the right tremendous slopes rolling -down as far as one could see, down to the -plain where villages appear crowded together in -the hollows of the landscape. There were the -vineyards, fields of wheat and corn, mulberries, -almond-trees and dazzling carpets of Spanish -broom, the seeds of which, exploding in the heat, -kept up a constant popping as if the very soil were -crackling and all on fire. One could readily suppose -it were so, considering the heavy air and the -furnace heat that did not seem to come from the -sun—which was almost invisible, having retired -behind a sort of haze—but appeared to emanate -from burning vapors of the earth; it made the -sight of Glayzin and its top, surmounted with -snows which one might touch, as it seemed, with -the end of one’s umbrella, look deliciously refreshing -to the sight.</p> - -<p>Roumestan could not remember ever to have -seen a landscape to be compared with that one; -no, not even in his dear Provence; and he could -not imagine happiness more complete than his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[262]</span> -own. No anxiety, no remorse. His wife faithful -and believing, the hope of a child, the prediction -Bouchereau had uttered concerning Hortense, the -ruinous effect which the appearance in the <i>Journal -Officiel</i> of the decree as to Cadaillac would produce—none -of these had any existence so far as -he was concerned. His entire destiny was wrapt up -in that beautiful girl whose eyes reflected his own, -whose knees touched his, and who, beneath her -blue veil turned to a rose-color by her blond -flesh, sang to him while pressing his hand:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“<i>Maintenant je me sens aimée,</i></div> - <div class="verse indent0"><i>Fuyons tous deux sous la ramée.</i>”</div> - <div class="verse indent0">(Now I trust my lover’s vows,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Let us fly beneath the boughs.)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>While they were rapidly whirling away in the -breeze made by their motion, the turnpike, gradually -becoming lonelier, widened out their horizons -little by little, permitting them to see an immense -plain in a semicircle with its lakes and villages -and then mountains differing in shade according -to their distance; it was Savoy beginning.</p> - -<p>“O! how beautiful! O! how beautiful!” said -the little singer; and he answered in a low voice: -“How I do love you!”</p> - -<p>At the last halt Bompard came up to them once -more, but very piteously, on foot, dragging his -horse after him by the bridle.</p> - -<p>“This brute is most extraordinary,” said he without -further explanation, and when the ladies asked -him if he had fallen: “No—it’s my old wound -which has opened again.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[263]</span></p> - -<p>Wounded! where and when? He had never -spoken of it before. But with Bompard one had -to expect any surprise. They made him get into -the carriage; and with his very mild-mannered -horse quietly fastened behind they set off toward -Château Bayard, whose two pepper-box towers, -wretchedly restored, could be seen on a high piece -of ground.</p> - -<p>A maid servant came to meet them, a quick-witted -mountaineer’s woman in the service of an -old priest formerly in charge of parishes in the -neighborhood, who dwells in Château Bayard with -the proviso that tourists may enter freely. When -a visitor is announced the priest goes up to his -bed-chamber in a very dignified way, unless indeed -it is a question of personages of note; but the -Minister, sly fellow, took good care not to give his -title, so that it was in the guise of ordinary visitors -that they were shown by the servant—with her -phrases learned by heart and the canting tone of -people of this sort—all that is left of the old manor -of the <i>chevalier sans peur et sans reproche</i>, whilst -the driver laid out breakfast under an arbor in the -little garden.</p> - -<p>“Here you have the antique chapel where our -good chevalier morning and evening.... Ladies -and gentlemen will kindly notice the thickness of -the walls.”</p> - -<p>But they didn’t notice anything at all. It was -very dark and they stumbled against the broken -bits of wall which were dimly lit from a loophole, -the light of which fell through a hay-loft established<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[264]</span> -above the beams of the ceiling. Numa, his -little girl’s arm under his own, made some fun of -the Chevalier Bayard and of “his worthy mother,” -dame Hélène des Allemans. The odor of ancient -things bored them to death, and actually, at one -time, in order to try the echo of the vaulted ceiling -in the kitchen, Mme. Bachellery started to sing -the last ballad composed by her husband, but -really a very naughty <span class="lock">one—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"><i>J’tiens ça a’papa ... j’tiens ça d’maman....</i></div> - <div class="verse indent0">(That’s me legacy from Popper ... that’s me legacy from Mommer....)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="afterpoetry">and yet nobody was scandalized; quite the contrary.</p> - -<p>But outside, when breakfast was served on a -massive stone table, and after their first hunger had -been appeased, the valley of the Graisivaudan, Les -Bauges, the severe buttresses of the Grande-Chartreuse -and the contrast made by that landscape -full of tremendous lines with the little terrace -grass-plot where this solitary old man dwelt—given -up entirely to prayer, to his tulip-trees and to his -bees—affected little by little their spirits with something -sweet and grave which was akin to reflection. -At dessert the Minister, opening his guide-book -to refresh his memory, spoke about Bayard “and -of his poor dame mother who did tenderly weep” -on that day when the child, setting out for Chambéry -to be page at the Court of the Duke of Savoy, -caused his little bay nag to prance in front of the -north gate, on that very place where the shadow<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[265]</span> -of the great tower was lengthening itself, slender -but majestic, like the phantom of the old vanished -castle.</p> - -<p>And Numa, exciting himself, read to them the -fine sentiments of Madame Hélène to her son at -the moment of his departure:</p> - -<p>“Pierre, my friend, I recommend to thee that -before everything else thou shalt love, fear and -serve God without in any wise doing Him offence, -if that be possible.”</p> - -<p>Standing there on the terrace, sweeping off a -gesture which carried as far as Chambéry:</p> - -<p>“That is what should be said to children, that is -what all parents, that is what all schoolmasters—”</p> - -<p>He stopped short and struck his brow with his -hand:</p> - -<p>“My speech!—why, that is my speech!—I -have it! splendid! the Château Bayard, a local -legend—for fifteen days have I been looking for -it—and here it is!”</p> - -<p>“Why, it is pure Providence,” cried Mme. -Bachellery, full of admiration, but thinking all the -same that the breakfast was ending rather solemnly. -“What a man! What a man!”</p> - -<p>The little girl seemed also very much excited, -but of this impression Roumestan took no heed; -the orator was boiling in him, behind his brow -and in his breast; so, completely absorbed with his -idea:</p> - -<p>“The fine thing,” said he, casting his eyes about -him, “the fine thing would be to date the speech -from Château Bayard—”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[266]</span></p> - -<p>“O, if Mr. Lawyer should want a little corner -in which to write—”</p> - -<p>“Why, yes, only to jot down a few notes. -You’ll excuse me, ladies, just for the time that -will do to drink your coffee, and I will be back. -It’s merely to be able to put the date to my speech -without telling a lie.”</p> - -<p>The servant placed him in a little room on the -ground floor, most ancient in appearance, whose -domelike, vaulted ceiling still carries traces of -gilding; an ancient room which they pretend was -Bayard’s oratory, just as they present to you as his -bedroom the big hall to one side in which an -enormous peasant’s bed, with a canopy and dark -blue curtains, is set up.</p> - -<p>It was very nice to write between those thick -walls into which the heavy atmosphere of the day -could not penetrate, behind that half-open shutter -which threw a pencil of light across the page and -allowed the perfumes from the little garden to -enter. At first the orator’s pen was not quick -enough to keep pace with the flow of his ideas; -he poured out his phrases headlong, in a mass—well -worn but eloquent phrases of a Provençal -lawyer, filled with a hidden heat and the sputtering -of sparks here and there, like the outflow -of molten metal. Suddenly he stopped, his head -emptied of words or rendered heavy by the fatigue -of the journey and the weight of the breakfast. -Then he marched up and down from the oratory -to the bedroom, talking in a high voice, lashing -himself, listening to his footsteps under the sonorous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[267]</span> -vaults as if they were those of some illustrious -revenant, and then he set himself down again without -the thoughts to put down a line. Everything -swam about him, the walls brilliantly white-washed -and that pencil of sunlight which seemed to hypnotize -him. He heard the noise of plates and -laughter in the garden, far, far away, and presently, -with his nose on the paper, he had fallen fast -asleep.</p> - -<p>A tremendous thunder-clap made him start to his -feet. How long had he been there? His head a -little confused, he stepped out into the deserted -and motionless garden. The fragrance of the -tulip-trees made the air heavy. Under the vacant -arbor wasps were heavily flying about the heeltaps -in the champagne glasses and the bits of sugar left -in the cups, which the mountaineer’s woman was -hurriedly clearing off, seized by the nervous fear -of an animal at the approach of a thunder-storm -and making the sign of the cross each time the -lightning flashed. She informed Numa that the -young lady had found herself with a bad headache -after breakfast and so she had taken her to Bayard’s -chamber to sleep a little, closing the door “<i>vary</i> -gently” in order not to bother the gentleman at -his work. The two others, the fat lady and the -man with the white hat, had gone down toward the -valley and without any doubt they would catch it, -because there was going to be a terrible ... “just -look!”</p> - -<p>In the direction she indicated, on the choppy -crest of Les Bauges and the chalky peaks of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[268]</span> -Grande-Chartreuse, which were enveloped in lightning -flashes like some mysterious Mount Sinai, the -sky was darkened by an enormous blot of ink -that grew larger every instant, under which the -whole valley took on an extraordinary luminous -value, like the light from a white and oblique reflector, -according as this sombre and growling -threat continued to advance. All the valley shared -in the change, the reflux of wind in the tops of the -green trees, the golden masses of grain, the highways -indicated by feathery clouds of white dust -raised by the wind and the silver surface of the -river Isère. In the far distance Roumestan perceived -the canvas pith helmet of Bompard, which -shone like a lighthouse reflector.</p> - -<p>He went in again but could not take hold of his -work. For the moment sleep no longer paralyzed -his pen; on the contrary he felt himself strangely -excited by the presence of Alice Bachellery in the -next chamber. By the way, was she still there? -He opened the door a little and did not dare to -shut it again for fear of disturbing the charming -slumber of the singer, who had thrown herself with -loosened clothes on the bed in a troubling disorder -of tumbled hair, open corset and white, half-seen -curves.</p> - -<p>“Come, come, Numa, beware! it is the bedroom -of Bayard; what the deuce!”</p> - -<p>Positively he seized himself by the collar like a -malefactor, dragged himself back and forcibly -seated himself at the table. He put his head between -his hands, closing his eyes and his ears in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[269]</span> -order to absorb himself completely in the last -phrase, which he repeated in a low voice:</p> - -<p>“Yes, gentlemen, the sublime advice of the -mother of Bayard, which has come down to us in -that mellifluous tongue of the middle ages—would -that the University of France....”</p> - -<p>The storm was so heavy and depleting, like the -shade of certain trees in the tropics, it took away -his nerve. His head was swimming, intoxicated -by the exquisite perfumes given forth by the bitter -flowers of the tulip-trees or else by that armful of -blond hair scattered over the bed not far off. -Wretched Minister! It was all very well to cling -to his speech and to invoke the aid of the <i>chevalier -sans peur et sans reproche</i>, public instruction, religious -culture, the rector of Chambéry—nothing -was of any use. He had to return into Bayard’s -bedchamber, and this time so close to the sleeping -girl that he could hear her gentle breathing -and touch with his hand the tassel stuff of the curtains -which framed this provoking slumber, this -mother-of-pearl flesh with the shadows and the -rosy undercolor of a naughty drawing in red chalk -by Fragonard.</p> - -<p>But even there, on the brink of temptation, the -Minister still fought with himself and in a mechanical -murmur his lips continued to mumble that sublime -advice which the University of France—when -a sudden roll of thunder, whose claps came nearer -and nearer, woke the singer all of a jump.</p> - -<p>“Oh, what a fear I was in—hello! is it you?” -She recognized him with a smile, with those clear<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[270]</span> -eyes of a child which wakes up without the slightest -embarrassment at its own disorder; and there -they remained motionless and affected by the -silence and growing flame of their desire. But the -bedroom was suddenly plunged in a big dark -shadow by the clapping-to of the tall shutters, -which the wind banged shut one after the other. -They heard the doors slam, a key fall, the whirling -of leaves and flowers over the sand as far as the -lintel of the door through which the hurricane -plaintively moaned.</p> - -<p>“What a storm!” said she in a very low voice, -taking hold of his burning hand and almost dragging -him beneath the <span class="lock">curtains—</span></p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>“Yes, gentlemen, this sublime advice of Bayard’s -mother, which has come down to us in that mellifluous -tongue of the middle ages—”</p> - -<p>It was at Chambéry this time, in sight of the old -Château of Savoy and of that marvellous amphitheatre -formed of green hills and snowy mountains -which Châteaubriand remembered when he saw -Mount Taygetus, that the grand master of the University -was speaking, thickly surrounded by embroidered -coats, by palm decorations, by orders -with ermine, by epaulettes decked with big tassels; -there he was, dominating an enormous crowd -excited by the power of his will and the gesture -of his strong hand that still grasped a little ivory-handled -trowel with which he had just spread the -mortar for the first stone of the new Lyceum.</p> - -<p>“Would that the University of France might<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[271]</span> -speak those words to every one of its boys: ‘Pierre, -my friend, I recommend to thee before everything -else that....’”</p> - -<p>And whilst he quoted those touching words -emotion caused his hand, his voice and his broad -cheeks to tremble at the memory of that great -perfumed room in which, during the agitation -caused by a most memorable thunder-storm, the -Chambéry speech had been composed.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[272]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.<br> - -<span class="smaller">THE VICTIMS.</span></h2> -</div> - - - -<p class="chapfirst">A morning at ten o’clock. The antechamber at -the Ministry of Public Instruction; a long corridor -badly lighted, with dark hangings and an -oaken wainscot. The gallery is full of a crowd of -office-seekers, seated or sauntering about, who -from minute to minute become more numerous; -each new arrival gives his card to the solemn clerk -wearing his chain of office, who receives it, examines -and without a word deposits it by his side -on the slab of the little table where he is writing; -all this in the haggard light from a window dripping -from a gentle October rain.</p> - -<p>One of the last arrivals, however, has the honor -of stirring the august impassiveness of this clerk. -He is a great big man, weather-beaten, sunburned -and of a tarry aspect, with two little silver anchors -in his ears for rings and with the voice of a seal -that has caught a cold—just such a voice as one -hears in the transparent early morning mists in -the seaports of Provence.</p> - -<p>“Let him know that it is Cabantous, the pilot—he -knows what is up; he expects me.”</p> - -<p>“You are not the only one,” answers the clerk, -who smiles discreetly at his own joke.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[273]</span></p> - -<p>Cabantous does not appreciate the delicacy of -the joke; but he laughs in good humor, his mouth -opening back as far as the silver anchors; and, -making use of his shoulders, he pushes through -the crowd, which falls aside before his wet umbrella, -and installs himself on a bench alongside -a sufferer who is almost as weather-beaten as -himself.</p> - -<p>“<i>Té! vé!</i>—why, it is Cabantous. Hello, -how are you?”</p> - -<p>The pilot begs his pardon—cannot recall who -it is.</p> - -<p>“Valmajour, you remember; we used to know -each other down there in the arena.”</p> - -<p>“That is true, by gad.—<i>Bé</i>, my good fellow, -you at least can say that Paris has changed -you—”</p> - -<p>The tabor-player has now become a gentleman -with very long black hair pushed behind his ears -in the manner of the musical person, and that, -along with his swarthy complexion and his blue-black -moustache, at which he is constantly pulling, -makes him look like one of the gypsies at the -Ginger-bread Fair. On top of all this a constant -look of the village cock with its crest up, a conceit -like that of village beau and musician combined, -in which the exaggeration of his Southern -origin betrays itself and slops over, notwithstanding -his tranquil and ungarrulous appearance.</p> - -<p>His lack of success at the opera has not frightened -him off; like all actors in such cases he -attributes his failure to a cabal, and for his sister<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[274]</span> -and himself that word “cabal” has taken on -barbaric and extraordinary proportions, and moreover -a Sanscrit spelling—the <i>khabbala</i>—a mysterious -monster which combines the traits of the -rattlesnake and the pale horse of the Apocalypse.</p> - -<p>And so he relates to Cabantous that he is about -to appear in a few days at a great variety show in -a café on the boulevard—“An <i>eskating-rink</i> I -would have you understand!” where he is to -figure in some living pictures, at two hundred -francs the evening.</p> - -<p>“Two hundred francs an evening!” The eyes -of the pilot roll in his head.</p> - -<p>“And besides that, they will cry my <i>bography</i> -in the street and my portrait in life size will be on -all the walls of Paris, <i>wid</i> my costume of a troubadour -of the old times, which I shall put on -every evening when I do my music.”</p> - -<p>What flatters him most in all of this is the costume. -What a bore that he is not able to put on his -crenelated cap and his long-pointed shoes in order -that he might show the Minister what a splendid -engagement he has, and this time on good government -stamped paper which was signed without -Roumestan’s aid! Cabantous looks at the stamped -paper, smudged on both its faces, and sighs.</p> - -<p>“You are mighty lucky; why, look at me—it’s -more than a year that I am <i>’oping</i> for my medal. -Numa told me to send my papers on here and I -did send my papers here—after that I never heard -anything more about the medal, nor about the -papers, nor about anything else. I wrote to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[275]</span> -Ministry of Marine; they don’t know me at -the Marine. I wrote to the Minister himself; the -Minister did not answer. And what beats me is -this, that now, when I haven’t my papers with -me and a discussion arises among the mercantile -captains as to pilotage, the port councilmen won’t -listen to my arguments. So, finding that was the -way of it, I put my ship in dry dock and says I -to myself: Come, let’s go and see Numa.”</p> - -<p>He was almost in tears about it, was this -wretched pilot. Valmajour consoles and reassures -him and promises to speak for him with the -Minister; he does this in an assured tone, his -finger on his moustache, like a man to whom -people can refuse nothing. But after all the -haughty attitude is not peculiar to him; all these -people who are waiting for an audience—old -priests of pious manners in their visiting cloaks; -methodical and authoritative professors; dudish -painters with their hair cut Russian fashion; thick-set -sculptors with broad ends to their fingers—they -all have this same triumphant air—special -friends of the Minister and sure of their business. -All of them, as they came in, have said to the -clerk: “He expects me.”</p> - -<p>Each one is filled with a conviction that if only -Roumestan knew that he was there!—This it is -that gives a very particular physiognomy to the -antechamber of the Ministry of Public Instruction, -without a trace of those feverish pallors, of those -trembling anxieties, which one perceives in the -waiting-rooms at other Ministries.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[276]</span></p> - -<p>“Who is he engaged with?” asks Valmajour in -a loud voice, going up to the little table.</p> - -<p>“The Director of the Opera.”</p> - -<p>“Cadaillac—all right, I know—it is about my -business!”</p> - -<p>After the failure made by the tabor-player in -his theatre Cadaillac had refused to let him appear -again. Valmajour wished to bring suit, but the -Minister, who was afraid of the lawyers and the -little newspapers, had begged the musician to -withdraw his plea, guaranteeing him a round sum -as damages. There is no doubt whatever with -Valmajour that they are at this moment discussing -these damages and not without a certain -animation, too, for every few moments the clarion -voice of Numa penetrates the double door of -his sitting room, which at last is rudely torn -open.</p> - -<p>“She is not my protegée, she is yours!”</p> - -<p>Big fat Cadaillac leaves the room, hurling this -taunt, crosses the antechamber with an angry gait -and passes the clerk who is coming up between -two lines of solicitors.</p> - -<p>“You have only to give my name.”</p> - -<p>“Let him only know that I am here.”</p> - -<p>“Tell ’im it’s Cabantous.”</p> - -<p>The clerk listens to nobody, but marches very -solemnly on with a few visiting cards in his hand -and the door which he leaves partly open behind -him shows the Minister’s sitting-room filled with -light from its three windows overlooking the -garden, all of one panel of the wall covered by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[277]</span> -the cloak turned up with ermine of M. de Fontanes, -painted standing at full length.</p> - -<p>A trace of astonishment showing on his cadaverous -face, the clerk comes back and calls:</p> - -<p>“Monsieur Valmajour.”</p> - -<p>The musician is not at all astonished at passing -in this way over the heads of the others.</p> - -<p>Since early morning his portrait has appeared -placarded on all the walls of Paris. Now he is a -personage and hereafter the Minister will no -longer cause him to languish among the draughts -in a railway station. Conceited and smiling, there -he stands in the centre of the luxurious bureau -where secretaries are occupied in pulling out -drawers and cardboard pigeon-holes in a frantic -search for something. Roumestan in a terrible -rage scolds, thunders and curses, both hands in -his pockets:</p> - -<p>“Come now, be done with it! those papers, -what the devil!—So they have been lost, have -they, that pilot’s papers?... Really, gentlemen, -there is an absence of order here!...”</p> - -<p>He catches sight of Valmajour: “Ha, it’s you, -is it?” and he springs upon him with one leap, the -while the backs of the secretaries are disappearing -by the side doors in a state of terror, each carrying -off an armful of boxes.</p> - -<p>“Now look here, are you never going to stop -persecuting me with your dog-at-the-fair music? -Haven’t you had enough with one chance at it? -How many do you require? Now they tell me -that there you are on all the walls in your hybrid<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[278]</span> -costume. And what is all this bosh that they -have brought me here?—that your biography? -A mass of blunders and lies. You know perfectly -well that you are no more a Prince than I am and -that those parchments which are talked about -here have never existed save in your own imagination!”</p> - -<p>With the brutal gesture of the man who loves -argument he grabbed the wretched fellow by the -flap of his jacket with both hands and as he talked -kept shaking him. In the first place this “eskating-rink” -didn’t have a penny—perfect fakirs! -They would never pay him and all he would get -would be the shame of this dirty advertisement -on the strength of <i>his</i> name, the name of his -protector. Now the newspapers could begin their -jokes again—Roumestan and Valmajour the fifer -for the Ministry; and, growing excited at the -memory of these attacks, his big cheeks quivering -with the anger hereditary in his family, with a fit of -rage like those of Aunt Portal, more scaring in the -solemn surroundings of an office where the personality -of a man should disappear before the -public situation, he screamed at the top of his -voice:</p> - -<p>“But for God’s sake get out of here, you -wretched creature, get out of here! We have -had enough of your shepherd’s fife!”</p> - -<p>Stunned and silly, Valmajour let the flood go -on, stuttering, “All right, all right,” and appealed -to the pitying face of Méjean, the only man whom -the Master’s rage had not sent into headlong flight,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[279]</span> -and then gazed piteously on the big portrait of -Fontanes, who looked scandalized at excesses of -this sort and seemed to accentuate his grand Ministerial -air the more, in proportion as Roumestan -lost his own dignity. At last, escaping from the -powerful fist which clutched him, the musician was -able to reach the door and fly half-crazed with -his tickets for the “eskating.”</p> - -<p>“Cabantous, pilot!” said Numa, reading the -name which the impassive clerk presented to him, -“There’s another Valmajour! But no, I won’t -have it; I have had enough of being their tool—enough -for to-day—I am no longer in....”</p> - -<p>He continued to march up and down his office, -trying to get rid of what remained of that furious -rage, the shock of which Valmajour had very -unfairly received. That Cadaillac, what impudence! -daring to come and reproach him about -the little girl, in his own office, in the Ministry -itself, and before Méjean, before Rochemaure! -“Well, certainly, I am too weak; the nomination -of that man to the directorship of the opera -was a terrible blunder!”</p> - -<p>His chief clerk was entirely of that opinion but -he would have taken good care not to say so; -for Numa was no longer the good fellow he used -to be, who was the first to laugh at his own -embarrassments and took railleries and remonstrances -in good part. Having become the practical -chief of the cabinet in consequence of his -speech at Chambéry and a few other oratorical -triumphs, the intoxication that comes with heights<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[280]</span> -gained, that royal atmosphere where the strongest -heads are turned, had changed him quite, had -made him nervous, splenetic and irritable.</p> - -<p>A door beneath a curtain opened and Mme. -Roumestan appeared, ready to go out, her hair -fashionably dressed and a long cloak concealing -her figure. With that serene air which for five -months back lit up her pretty face: “Have you -your council to-day, my dear? Good-morning, -Monsieur Méjean.”</p> - -<p>“Why, yes, council—a meeting—everything!”</p> - -<p>“I wanted to ask you to come as far as -Mamma’s house; I am breakfasting there; Hortense -would have been so glad!”</p> - -<p>“But you see it is impossible.” He looked at -his watch: “I ought to be at Versailles at noon.”</p> - -<p>“Then I will wait for you and take you to the -station.”</p> - -<p>He hesitated a second, not more than a second:</p> - -<p>“All right, I will put my signature here and -then we will go.”</p> - -<p>While he was writing Rosalie was giving Méjean -news of her sister in a low tone. The coming of -winter affected her spirits; she was forbidden to -go out. Why did he not call upon her? She -had need of all her friends. Méjean gave a gesture -of discouragement and woe: “Oh, so far as I -am concerned....”</p> - -<p>“But I tell you yes, there is a good deal more -chance for you. It is only caprice on her part; -I am sure that it cannot last.”</p> - -<p>She saw everything in a rosy light and wanted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[281]</span> -to have all the world about her as happy as she -was—O, how happy! and glad with so perfect a -joy that she indulged in a certain superstition -never to acknowledge the fulness of her joy to herself. -As for Roumestan, he talked about his affair -everywhere with a comical sort of pride, to indifferent -people as well as to his intimates:</p> - -<p>“We are going to call it the child of the -Ministry!” and then he would laugh at his joke -till the tears came.</p> - -<p>And of a truth those who knew about his -existence outside, the household in the city impudently -established with receptions and an open -table, this husband who was so sensitive and -tender and who talked of his coming fatherhood -with tears in his eyes, appeared a character not to -be defined, perfectly at peace in his lies, sincere -in his expansiveness, putting to the rout the conclusions -of those who did not understand the -dangerous complications of Southern natures.</p> - -<p>“Certainly, I will take you there,” said he to -his wife as they got into the carriage.</p> - -<p>“But if they are waiting for you?”</p> - -<p>“Well, so much the worse for them; let them -wait for me—we shall be together all the longer.”</p> - -<p>He took Rosalie’s arm under his own and pressing -against her as if he were a child:</p> - -<p>“<i>Té!</i> do you know that I am happy only in this -place? Your gentleness rests me, your coolness -comforts me. That Cadaillac put me into such a -state of rage! He’s a fellow without any conscience, -he’s a fellow without any morality—”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[282]</span></p> - -<p>“You didn’t know his character, then?”</p> - -<p>“The way he is carrying on that theatre is a -burning shame!”</p> - -<p>“It is true that the engagement of that Mlle. -Bachellery ... why did you let him do it? A -girl who is false in everything, her youth, her -voice, even her eyelashes.”</p> - -<p>Numa felt his cheeks reddening; it was he -himself who fastened them on, now, with his own -great big fingers, those eyelashes! The little girl’s -mamma had taught him how to do it.</p> - -<p>“Whom does this little good-for-nothing belong -to, anyhow? The <i>Messenger</i> was talking the -other day of influences in high circles, of some -mysterious protection—”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know; to Cadaillac, undoubtedly.”</p> - -<p>He turned away in order to conceal his embarrassment -and suddenly threw himself back -horrified.</p> - -<p>“What is it?” asked Rosalie, looking out of -the window too.</p> - -<p>There was the placard of the skating-rink, enormous, -printed in crying colors which showed out -under the rainy and gray sky, repeating itself at -every street corner, on every vacant space of a -naked wall and on the planks of temporary fences. -It showed a gigantic troubadour encircled with -living pictures as a border—all blotches in yellow, -green and blue, with the ochre color of the -tabor placed across the figure. The long hoarding -which surrounded the new building of the city -hall, past which their carriage was going at the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[283]</span> -moment, was covered with this coarse and noisy -advertisement, which was stupefying even to Parisian -idiocy.</p> - -<p>“My executioner!” said Roumestan with an -expression of comic dismay. Rosalie found fault -with him gently.</p> - -<p>“No—your victim! and would that he were -the only one! But somebody else has caught fire -from your enthusiasm—”</p> - -<p>“Who can that be?”</p> - -<p>“Hortense.”</p> - -<p>Then she told him what she had finally proved -to be a certainty, notwithstanding the mysteries -made by the young girl—namely, her affection for -this peasant, a thing which at first she had believed -a mere fancy, but which worried her now -like a moral aberration in her sister.</p> - -<p>The Minister was in a state of indignation.</p> - -<p>“How can it be possible? That hobnail, that -bog-trotter!”</p> - -<p>“She sees him with her imagination, and especially -in the light of your legends and inventions -which she has not been able to put in the right focus. -That is why this advertisement and grotesque -coloring which enrage you fill me on the contrary -with joy. I believe that her hero will appear -so ridiculous to her that she will no longer dare to -love him. If it were not for that, I hardly know -what would become of us. Can you imagine the -despair of my father; can you imagine yourself -the brother-in-law of Valmajour?—oh, Numa, -Numa! poor involuntary maker of dupes.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[284]</span></p> - -<p>He did not put up any defence, but indulged -in anger against himself, against his “cussed -Southernism” which he was not able to overcome.</p> - -<p>“Look here, you ought to stay always just as -you are, right up against my side as my beloved -councillor and my holy protection. You alone -are good and indulgent, you alone understand -and love me.”</p> - -<p>He held her little gloved hand to his lips and -said this with such a firm conviction that tears, -real tears, reddened his eyelids: then, warmed up -and refreshed by this effusion, he felt better; and -so, when they reached the Place Royale and with a -thousand tender precautions he had helped his -wife out of the carriage, it was with a joyous tone -and one free of all remorse that he threw the -address to his coachman: “London Street, hurry, -quick!”</p> - -<p>Moving slowly, Rosalie vaguely caught this -address and it gave her pain. Not that she had -the slightest suspicion; but he had just said that -he was going to the Saint-Lazare station. Why -was it that his acts were never in accordance with -his words?</p> - -<p>In her sister’s bedroom another cause for anxiety -met her: she felt on entering that there -had been a sudden stoppage of a discussion -between Hortense and Audiberte, who still kept -the traces of fury on her face while her peasant’s -head-dress still quivered on her hair bristling with -rage. Rosalie’s presence kept her in bounds, that -was clear enough from her lips and eyebrows<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[285]</span> -viciously drawn together. Still, as the young wife -asked her how she did, she was forced to answer -and so began to talk feverishly of the <i>eskating</i>, -of the advantageous terms which were offered -them, and then, surprised at Rosalie’s calm, demanded -in an almost insolent tone:</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you coming to hear my brother? It is -something that is at least worth while, if for -nothing more than to see him in his costume!”</p> - -<p>This ridiculous costume as it was described by -her in her peasant dialect, from the dents in the -cap down to the high curving points of the shoes, -put poor Hortense in a state of agony; she did -not dare raise her eyes to her sister’s face. Rosalie -asked to be excused from going; the state of -her health did not permit her to visit the theatre. -Besides, in Paris there were certain places of entertainment -where all women could not go. The -peasant woman stopped her short at the first -suggestion.</p> - -<p>“Beg your pardon, I go perfectly well and I -hope I am as good as anybody else—I have -never done any wrong, I have not; <i>I</i> have always -fulfilled my religious duties.”</p> - -<p>She raised her voice without a trace of her -old bashfulness, just as if she had acquired rights -in the house. But Rosalie was much too kind -and far too superior to this poor ignorant thing -to cause her humiliation, particularly as she was -thinking about the responsibility that rested on -Numa. So, with the entire intelligence of her heart -and revealing as usual the uncommon delicacy of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[286]</span> -her mind, in those truthful words that heal although -they may sting a little, she endeavored to make -Audiberte understand that her brother had not -succeeded and never would succeed in Paris, the -implacable city, and that rather than obstinately -continue a humiliating struggle, falling into the -mire and mud of artistic existence, it would be far -better for them to return to their Provence and buy -their farm back again, the means to accomplish -which would be furnished them, and so, in their -laborious life surrounded by nature, forget the -unhappy results of their trip to Paris.</p> - -<p>The peasant girl let her talk to the very end -without interrupting her a single moment, merely -darting at Hortense a look of irony from her -wicked eyes as though to challenge her to make -some reply. At last, seeing that the young girl -did not wish to say anything more, she coldly -declared that they would not go, because her -brother had all kinds of engagements in Paris—all -kinds which it was impossible for him to -break. Upon that she threw over her arm the -heavy wet cloak which had been lying on the -back of a chair, made a hypocritical curtsy to -Rosalie, “Wishing you a very good day, Madame, -and thanking you very much, I am sure,” and left -the room, followed by Hortense.</p> - -<p>In the antechamber, lowering her voice on -account of the servants:</p> - -<p>“Sunday evening, <i>qué?</i> half past ten without -fail!” And in a pressing, authoritative voice: -“Come now, you certainly owe that to your <i>pore</i><span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[287]</span> -friend! Just to give him a little heart ... and to -start with, what do you risk, anyhow? I am -coming to get you and I am going to bring you -back!”</p> - -<p>Seeing that Hortense still hesitated, she added -almost aloud in a tone of menace: “Come now, -I would like to know: are you his betrothed or -not?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll come, I’ll come,” said the young girl -greatly alarmed.</p> - -<p>When she returned to the room, seeing that she -looked worried and sad, Rosalie asked her:</p> - -<p>“What are you thinking about, my dear girl? -are you still dreaming the continuation of your -novel? It ought to be getting pretty well forward -in all these months,” added she, taking her gayly -around the waist.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, pretty well forward—”</p> - -<p>After a silence Hortense continued in an -obscure tone of melancholy: “But the trouble is, -I can’t see my way to the close of the novel.”</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>She didn’t care for him any more: it may be -that she never had loved him. Under the transforming -power of absence and that “tender -glory” which misfortune gave to the Moor Abencerage -he had appeared to her from a distance -as her man of destiny. It seemed a proud act on -her part to knit her own existence with that of one -who was abandoned by everything, success and -protectors together. But when she got back to -Paris, what a pitiless clearness of things! What<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[288]</span> -a terror to perceive how absolutely she had made -a mistake!</p> - -<p>To start with, Audiberte’s first visit had shocked -her because of the new manners of the girl, too familiar -and free and easy, and because of the look -of an accomplice which she gave when telling her -in whispers: “Hush, don’t say anything! he’s -coming to get me....”</p> - -<p>That kind of action seemed to her rather hasty -and rather bold, more especially the idea of presenting -this young man to her parents. But the -peasant girl wanted to hurry things. And then, -all at once, Hortense perceived her error when she -looked upon this artist of the variety stage with -his long hair behind his ears, full of stage movements, -denting in and shifting his sombrero of -Provence on his characteristic head—always -handsome, of course, but full of a plain preoccupation -to appear so.</p> - -<p>Instead of taking a lowly manner in order to -make her forgive him for that generous spirit of -interest which she had felt for him, he preserved his -air of a conqueror, his silly look of the victor, and -without saying a word—for he would hardly have -known what to say—he treated this finely organized -Parisian girl just as he would in similar conditions -have treated <i>her</i>, the Des Combette girl—took -her by the waist with the motion of a soldier -and troubadour and wanted to press her to his -breast. She disengaged herself with a sudden -repulsion and a letting go of all her nerves, leaving -him there looking foolish and astonished, while<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[289]</span> -Audiberte quickly intervened and scolded her -brother violently. What kind of manners had he, -anyhow? It must have been in Paris that he -learned such manners, in the Faubourg Saint -<i>Germoyne</i>, without a doubt, among his duchesses?</p> - -<p>“Come now, wait at least until she is your -wife!”</p> - -<p>And turning to Hortense:</p> - -<p>“O, he is so in love with you; his blood is -parching with his love, <i>pécaïré!</i>”</p> - -<p>From that time on, when Valmajour came to get -his sister he considered it necessary to assume the -sombre and desperate air of an illustration to a -ballad: “‘The ocean waits for me,’ the Knight -<i>hadjured</i>.” In other conditions the young girl -might have been touched, but really the poor fellow -seemed too much of a nullity. All he knew -how to do was to smooth the nap of his soft hat -while reciting the list of his successes in the faubourg -of the nobles, or else the rivalries of the -stage. One day he talked to her for a whole hour -about the vulgarity of handsome Mayol, who had -refrained from congratulating him at the end of a -concert; and all the while he kept repeating:</p> - -<p>“There you are with your Mayol!... <i>Bé!</i> -he is not very polite, your Mayol isn’t!”</p> - -<p>And all this was accompanied by Audiberte’s -attitudes of watchfulness, her severity of a policeman -of morals, and this in the face of these very -cold lovers! O, if she had been able to divine -what a terror possessed the soul of Hortense, what -a loathing for her frightful mistake!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[290]</span></p> - -<p>“Ho! what a capon—what a capon of a -girl—” she would sometimes say to her, trying to -laugh, with her eyes brimming with rage, because -she considered that this love-affair was dragging -too much and believed that the young girl was -hesitating for fear of meeting the reproaches and -anger of her parents. Just as if that would have -weighed a straw in the balance for such a free and -proud nature, had there been a real love in her -heart; but how can one say: “I love him,” and -buckle on one’s armor, rouse one’s spirits and fight, -when one does not love at all?</p> - -<p>However, she had promised, and every day she -was harassed by new demands. For instance -there was that first night at the skating-rink, to -which the peasant girl insisted upon taking her, -whether or no, counting upon the singer’s success -and the sympathy of the applause to break down -the last objections. After a long resistance the -poor little girl ended by consenting to skip out -secretly for that one night behind the back of her -mother, making use of lies and humiliating complications. -She had given way through fear and -weakness, perhaps also with the hope of getting -her first impression back again at the theatre—that -mirage which had vanished; of lighting up -again, in fact, that flame of love which was so -desperately quenched.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[291]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.<br> - -<span class="smaller">THE SKATING-RINK.</span></h2> -</div> - - - -<p class="chapfirst">Where was it? Whither was she being taken? -The cab had been going for a long, long time; -seated at her side, Audiberte had been holding her -hands, reassuring her and talking to her with a feverish -violence. She did not look at anything, -she did not hear anything; the noise of the wheels, -the sharp tones of that shrill little voice had no -sense for her mind whatever; nor did the streets -and boulevards and house-fronts seem to her to -wear their usual aspect, but were discolored by the -lively emotion within, as if she were looking at -them out of the carriage in a funeral or marriage -procession.</p> - -<p>Finally they brought up with a jerk and stopped -before a wide pavement inundated by white light -which carved the crowd of people swarming here -into black sharp-cut shadows. At the entrance -of the large corridor was a wicket for the tickets, -then a double door of red velvet, and right upon -that a hall, an enormous hall, which with its nave -and its side aisles and the stucco on its high walls, -recalled to her an Anglican church which she had -once visited on the occasion of a marriage. Only<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[292]</span> -in this case the walls were covered with placards -and advertisements in every color, setting forth the -virtues of pith helmets, shirts made to measure for -four francs and a half and announcements of clothing-shops, -alternating with the portrait of the tabor-player, -whose biography one could hear cried in -that voice of a steam-valve used by programme-sellers. -They were in the midst of a stunning -noise in which the murmur of the circulating -mob, the humming of the tops on the cloth of the -English billiard tables, calls for drinks, snatches -of music broken by patriotic gunshots coming -from the back of the hall, were dominated by a -constant noise of roller skates going and coming -across a broad asphalted space surrounded by -balustrades, the centre of a perfect storm of crush -hats and bonnets of the time of the Directory.</p> - -<p>Hortense walked behind the Provençal girl, -anxious and frightened, now turning pale and now -turning red beneath her veil, following her with -difficulty through a perfect labyrinth of little round -tables at which women were seated two and two -drinking, their elbows on the table, cigarettes in -their mouths and their knees up, overwhelmed with -a look of boredom. Against the wall from point to -point stood crowded counters and behind each was -a girl standing erect, her eyes blackened with kohl, -her mouth red as blood and little flashes of steel -coming from a bang of black or russet hair plastered -over her brow. And this white and black of -painted skin, this smile with its painted vermilion-point, -were to be found on all the women, as if it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[293]</span> -were a livery belonging to nocturnal and pallid -apparitions which all were forced to wear.</p> - -<p>Sinister also was the slow strolling of the men -who elbowed their way in an insolent and brutal -manner between the tables, puffing the smoke of -their thick cigars right and left with the insult of -their marketing as they pushed about to look as -closely as possible at the wares. And what gave -it still more the impression of a market was the -cosmopolite public talking all kinds of French, a -hotel public which had just arrived and run into -the place in their travelling clothes—Scotch bonnets, -striped jackets, tweeds still full of the fog of -the Channel and Muscovite furs thawing fast in the -Paris air. And there were the long black beards -and insolent airs of people from the banks of the -Spree covering satyr grins and Tartar mugs; there -too were Turkish fezzes surmounting coats without -any collars, negroes in full evening dress gleaming -like the silk of their tall hats and little Japanese -men dressed like Europeans, dapper and correct, -like tailors’ advertisements fallen into the fire.</p> - -<p>“<i>Bou Diou!</i> How ugly he is,” said Audiberte -suddenly, as they passed a very solemn Chinaman -with his long pigtail hanging down the back of -his blue gown; or else she would stop and, nudging -her companion with her elbow, cry “<i>Vé! vé!</i> -see the bride!” and show her some woman dressed -entirely in white lounging on two chairs—one of -which supported her white satin shoes with silver -heels—the waist of her dress wide open, the train -of her gown all which-way, and orange flowers fastening<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[294]</span> -the lace of a short mantilla in her hair. -Then, suddenly scandalized by certain words which -gave her the clue to these very chance bridal -flowers, the Provençal girl would add in a mysterious -manner: “A regular snake, you know!” -Then suddenly, in order to drag Hortense away -from a bad example, she would hurry her toward -the central part of the building where a theatre -rose far in the back, occupying the same place as -the choir in a church. The stage was there under -electric flames which came and went in two big -glass spheres away up in the ceiling, like two -gleaming, starry eyes of an Eternal Father in a -book of holy images.</p> - -<p>Here they could compose themselves after the -tumultuous wickedness of the lobbies. Families -of little citizens, the shopkeepers of the quarter, -filled the orchestra stalls. There were few women. -It might have been possible to believe oneself in -some kind of an auditorium, were it not for the -horrible noise all about, which was always being -overborne by the regular rolling of the skaters on -the asphalt floor, drowning even the brass instruments -and the drums of the orchestra, so that -really on the boards all that was possible was -the dumb-show of living pictures.</p> - -<p>As they seated themselves the curtain went -down on a patriotic scene: an enormous Belfort -lion made of cardboard, surrounded by soldiers in -triumphant poses on crumbling ramparts, their -military caps stuck on the ends of their guns, -gesticulating to the measure of the Marseillaise,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[295]</span> -which nobody could hear. This performance and -this wild excitement stimulated the Provençal -girl; her eyes were bulging in her head; as she -found a place for Hortense she exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“<i>Qué!</i> we are nice here, <i>qué!</i> But do haul -up your veil—don’t tremble so, there is no danger -<i>wid</i> me!”</p> - -<p>The young girl did not answer, still overwhelmed -by the impression of that slow, insulting -crowd of strollers where she had been confounded -with the rest, among all those livid masks of -women. And behold, right in front of her, she -found those horrible masks once more, with their -blood-stained lips—found them in the grimacing -faces of two clowns in tights who were dislocating -all their joints, a bell in each hand with which they -were sounding out, whilst they frolicked about, an -air from “Martha”—a veritable music of the -gnomes, formless and stuttering, very much in its -place in the musical babel of the skating-rink. -Then the curtain fell again, and for the tenth time -the peasant girl stood up and sat down again, -fussed about, fixed her head-dress anew and suddenly -exclaimed, as she looked down the programme: -“There, the Cordova Mount—the -summer locusts, the farandole—there, there, it is -beginning, <i>vé, vé!</i>”</p> - -<p>Rising once more, the curtain displayed upon -the background of the scenery a lilac mountain, -up which mounted buildings of stone most weird -in construction, partly castle, partly mosque, -here a minaret and there a terrace; they rose in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[296]</span> -ogival arches, crenelations and Moorish work, with -aloes and palm-trees of zinc rising at the foot of -towers sharply cut against the indigo blue of a -very crude sky. One may see just such absurd -architecture in the suburbs of Paris among villas -inhabited by newly enriched merchants. In spite -of all, in spite of the crying tones of the slopes -blossoming with thyme and exotic plants placed -there by mistake because of the word “Cordova,” -Hortense was rather embarrassed at sight of that -landscape which held for her the most delightful -recollections. And that palace of the Turk perched -upon the mountain all rose-colored porphyry, and -that reconstructed castle, really did seem to her -the realization of her dreams, but quite grotesque -and overdone, as it happens when one’s dream is -about to slip into the oppression of a nightmare.</p> - -<p>At a signal from the orchestra and from an -electric jet, long devil’s-darning-needles, personated -by girls in an undress of tightly-fitting silks, -a sort of emerald-green tights, rushed upon the -stage waving their long membranous wings and -whirling their wooden rattles.</p> - -<p>“What! those are locusts? Not much!” said -the Provençal girl indignantly.</p> - -<p>Already they had arranged themselves in a half -circle, like a crescent-shaped mass of seaweed, all -the time whirling their rattles, which sounded very -distinctly now, because the row made by the -parlor skates was softened and for a moment the -noise of the lobby was hushed in a close wall of -heads leaning toward the stage, their eyes glaring<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[297]</span> -under every kind of head-dress in the world. -The wretchedness which tore Hortense’s heart -grew deeper when she heard coming, at first from -afar and gradually increasing, the low sound of -the tabor.</p> - -<p>She would have liked to flee in order not to -have seen what was coming. In its turn the -shepherd’s pipe sounded out its high notes and -the farandole, raising under the cadence of its -regular steps a thick dust the color of the earth, -unrolled itself with all the fantastic costumes imaginable, -short skirts meant to lure the eye, red -stockings with gold borders, spangled waists, head-dresses -of Arab coins, of Indian scarfs, of Italian -kerchiefs or those from Brittany or Caux, all worn -with a fine Parisian disdain of truth to locality.</p> - -<p>Behind them, pushing forward on his knee a -tabor covered with gold paper, came the great -troubadour of the placards—his legs incased -in tights, one leg yellow with a blue shoe on -and one leg blue shod in yellow, with his satin -waistcoat covered with puffs and his crenelated -velvet cap overshadowing a countenance which -remained quite brown despite cosmetics, and of -which nothing could be seen well except a big -moustache stiffened with Hungarian pomade.</p> - -<p>“Ah!” said Audiberte in perfect ecstasy.</p> - -<p>When the farandole had taken up its place on -the two sides of the stage in front of the locusts -with their big wings, the troubadour, standing -alone in the centre, saluted with an air of assurance -and victory under the glaring eyes of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[298]</span> -Eternal Father whose rays poured a luminous -hoarfrost upon his coat.</p> - -<p>The aubade began, rustic and shrill, yet it went -forward into the halls hardly farther than the footlights; -there it lived a very short life, fighting for a -moment with the flamboyant banners on the ceiling -and the columns of the enormous interior, and then -fell flat into a great and bored silence. The public -looked on without the slightest comprehension. -Valmajour began another piece, which at the first -sounds was received with laughter, murmurs and -cat-calls. Audiberte took Hortense’s hand:</p> - -<p>“Listen! that’s the cabal!”</p> - -<p>At this point the cabal consisted merely of a few -“Heh! louder!” and of jokes of this sort, which -were called out by a husky voice belonging to -some low woman on seeing the complicated dumb-show -that Valmajour employed: “Oh, give us a -rest, you chump!”</p> - -<p>Then the rink took up again its sound of parlor -skates and of English billiards and its ambulatory -marketing, overwhelming the shepherd’s pipe and -the tabor which the musician insisted upon using -until the very end of the aubade. After this he -saluted again, marched forward toward the footlights, -always accompanied by that mysterious -grand air which never quitted him. His lips -could be seen moving and a few words came here -and there into ear-shot: “It came to me all of a -sudden ... one hole ... three holes ... the -good God’s <i>birrd</i>....”</p> - -<p>His despairing gesture was understood by the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[299]</span> -orchestra and gave the signal for a ballet in which -the locusts twined themselves about the odalisques -from Caux and formed plastic poses, undulatory -and lascivious dances beneath Bengal flames -which threw their rainbow light as far as the -pointed shoes of the troubadour, who continued -his dumb-show with the tabor in front of the -castle of his ancestors in a great glory and -apotheosis.</p> - -<p>There lay the romance of poor little Hortense! -That is what Paris had made of it.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>The clear bell of the old clock hanging on -the wall of her chamber sounded one as Hortense -roused herself from the arm-chair into which -she had fallen utterly crushed when she entered. -She looked around her gentle maiden’s nest, -warm with the reassuring gleams of a dying fire -and of an expiring night-lamp.</p> - -<p>“What am I doing here? Why did I not go -to bed?”</p> - -<p>She could not remember at first what had happened, -only feeling a complete sickness through -her entire being and in her head a noise which -made it ache. She stood up and walked a step -or two before she perceived that she still wore -her hat and mantle; then all came back to her. -She remembered then their departure after the -curtain fell, their return through the hideous -market, more brilliantly illumined than before, -among drunken book-makers fighting with each -other in front of a counter, through cynical voices<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[300]</span> -whispering a sum of money as she passed—and -then the scene at the exit, with Audiberte who -wished her to come and felicitate her brother; -then Audiberte’s wrath in the coach, the abuse -which the creature heaped upon her, only ended -by Audiberte humiliating herself before her, and -kissing her hands for pardon; all that and still -other things danced through her memory along -with the horrible faces of the clowns, harsh noises -of bells, cymbals and rattles, and the rising up of -many-colored flames about that ridiculous troubadour -to whom she had given her heart! A terror -that was physical roused her at that idea:</p> - -<p>“No, no; never! I’d far rather die!”</p> - -<p>All of a sudden, in the looking-glass in front of -her, she caught sight of a ghost with hollow -cheeks and narrow shoulders drawn together in -front with the gesture of a person shuddering with -cold. The spectre looked a little like her, but much -more like that poor Princess of Anhalt who had so -roused her curiosity and pity at Arvillard that she -had described her sad symptoms in a letter. The -princess had just died at the opening of winter.</p> - -<p>“Why, look—look!” She bent forward, came -nearer to the glass and recalled the inexplicable -kindness that everybody down there had shown -her, the fright her mother evinced, the tenderness -of old Bouchereau at her departure—and understood! -Now at last she knew what it was, she -knew the end of the game! It was here without -any one to aid it. Surely it was long enough she -had been looking for its coming.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[301]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.<br> - -<span class="smaller">“AT THE PRODUCTS OF THE SOUTH.”</span></h2> -</div> - - - -<p class="chapfirst">“Mlle. Hortense is very ill. Madame will -receive nobody.”</p> - -<p>For the tenth time during the ten days that had -passed Audiberte had received the same answer, -motionless before that heavy-timbered door with -its knocker, the like of which can scarcely be -found except beneath the arcades of the Place -Royale, a door which once shut seemed to her to -refuse forever an entrance to the old house of the -Le Quesnoys.</p> - -<p>“Very well,” said she, “I am not coming back; -it must be they now who shall call me back.”</p> - -<p>In great agitation she set out again through the -lively turmoil of that commercial quarter, where -drays laden with cases and barrels and iron bars, -noisy and flexible, were forever passing the pushcarts -that rolled under the porches and back into -the courtyards where the coopers were nailing up -the cases for export. But the peasant girl was -not aware of this infernal row and of the rumbling -of labor which shook the high houses to -their very topmost floors; in her venomous head -a very different kind of row was going on, a -clashing of brutal thoughts and a terrible clangor<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[302]</span> -of foiled wishes. So she set forth, feeling no -fatigue, and in order to economize the ’bus fare -crossed on foot the entire distance from the Marais -to Abbaye-Montmartre Street.</p> - -<p>After a fierce and lively peregrination from one -lodging to the other, hotels and furnished apartments -of all kinds, from which they were expelled -each time on account of the tabor-playing, they -had just recently made shipwreck in that quarter. -It was a new house which had allured, at the -cheap prices for housewarmers, a temporary horde -of girls, Bohemians and business agents, and those -families of adventurers such as one sees at the -seaports, a floating population which shows its -lack of work on the balconies, watching arrivals -and departures in hopes that there may be something -to be gained for them in the flood. Fortune -is here the flood on which they cast their watchful -eyes.</p> - -<p>The rent was very high for them to pay, especially -now that the skating-rink had failed and it -was necessary to sue upon government stamped -paper for the price of Valmajour’s few appearances. -But the tabor did not bother anybody in -that freshly-painted barrack whose door was open -at every hour of the night for the different crooked -businesses of the tenants—not to speak of all the -quarrels and rows that were going on. On the -contrary, it was the tabor-player who was bothered. -The advertising on placards, the many-colored -tights and his fine moustaches had aroused -perilous interest among the ladies of the skating-rink<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">[303]</span> -less coy than that prude of a girl down there -in the Marais. He was acquainted with actors -at the Batignolles, all that sweet-scented crowd -which met in a pot-house on the Boulevard Rochechouart -called the Straw-Lair. This same Straw-Lair, -where people passed their time in loafing -fatly, playing cards, drinking lager beer and passing -from one to the other the scandal of the little -theatres and the lowest class of gallantry, was the -enemy and the horror of Audiberte. It was the -cause of savage rages, under the stormy blows of -which the two Southerners bent their backs as under -a tempest in the tropics, merely revenging themselves -by cursing their tyrant in a green skirt and -talking about her in that mysterious and hateful -tone which schoolboys and servants use: “What -did she say? how much did she give you?” and -playing into each other’s hands in order to slip -away behind her back. Audiberte knew this well -and watched them; she did her business outside -quickly, impatient to get home; and particularly -was it so that day, because she had left them -early in the morning. As she ascended the stairs -she stopped a moment, hearing neither tabor nor -shepherd’s pipe.</p> - -<p>“Oh, the beggarly wretch, he’s off again to his -Straw-Lair!”</p> - -<p>But as she came in at the door her father ran -up to her and headed the explosion off.</p> - -<p>“Now don’t squeal, somebody’s come to visit -you; a gentleman from the <i>Munistry!</i>”</p> - -<p>The gentleman was waiting in the drawing-room;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[304]</span> -for, as it always happens in these buildings, -cheaply built and made by machinery, with -every room on each floor exactly the same, one -above the other, they too had a drawing-room -hung with a cheap paper, creamy and waffled into -patterns till it looked like a dish of beaten eggs, -a drawing-room which made the peasant girl a -very proud woman. Méjean was passing in review -most compassionately the Provençal furniture -scattered about this dentist’s waiting-room, -full of the crude light from two windows guiltless -of curtains—the <i>coco</i> and the <i>moco</i> (tumbler-holder -and lamp-holder), the kneading-trough, -the bread-basket much banged about by house-movings -and by travel—these showed their rural -rustiness alongside of the cheap gilding and wall -paintings. The haughty profile of Audiberte, -very pure in its lines, surmounted by her Sunday -head-dress, which seemed just as out-of-place in -the fifth story of a Parisian apartment house, -completed the feeling of pity which he had concerning -these victims of Roumestan; and so he -introduced very gently the cause of his visit.</p> - -<p>The Minister, wishing to spare the Valmajours -new misfortunes, for which up to a certain point -he felt himself responsible, sent them five thousand -francs to pay for their losses in having -changed their home and to carry them back again -to their own place. He took the bills from his -purse and laid them on the old dark kneading-trough -of nutwood.</p> - -<p>“So, then, we’ll have to leave?” asked the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[305]</span> -peasant girl without budging an inch and pondering -a while.</p> - -<p>“The Minister desires that you should go as -soon as possible; he is anxious to know that you -have returned to your home as happy as you were -before.”</p> - -<p>Old Valmajour cast his eye around at the bank-notes:</p> - -<p>“As for me, that seems reasonable enough—<i>de -qué n’en disés?</i>”</p> - -<p>But she would not say anything and waited for -the sequel, which Méjean introduced by twisting -and turning his purse:</p> - -<p>“And to those five thousand francs we will add -five thousand more which are here, in order to -get back again—to get back again—”</p> - -<p>His emotion choked him. Cruel was the commission -which Rosalie had given him. Ah, how -often it costs a lot to be considered a quiet-loving, -strong man; much more is demanded -of such a one than of other people! Then he -added very rapidly—“the photograph of Mlle. -Le Quesnoy.”</p> - -<p>“At last! now we have got to it. The photograph—didn’t -I know it, by heavens?” At every -word she bounded up like a goat. “And so you -really believe that you can make us come from -the other end of France, that you can promise -everything to us—to us who never asked for -anything—and then that you can put us out -of doors like so many dogs who have done their -worst and left their dirt everywhere? Take<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">[306]</span> -back your money, gentleman! You can be dead -sure that we sha’n’t leave, and you can say -so there, and also that the photograph won’t -be returned to them! That’s a paper and a -proof, that is. I keep it safe in my little bag; -it never leaves me and I shall show it about -through Paris and what is written upon it, so that -all the world may know that all those Roumestans -are no better than a family of liars—of -liars—”</p> - -<p>She was foaming with rage.</p> - -<p>“Mlle. Le Quesnoy is very, very ill,” said -Méjean, with great solemnity.</p> - -<p>“<i>Avaï!</i>”</p> - -<p>“She is leaving Paris, and in all probability -will never return—alive!”</p> - -<p>Audiberte said not a word, but the silent laugh -of her eyes, the implacable <i>no</i> which was written -upon her classic brow, on which the hair grew -low beneath the little lace head-dress, were sufficient -to warrant the firmness of her refusal. Then -a temptation seized Méjean to throw himself upon -her, tear the little Indian bag from her girdle and -fly with it; still, he restrained himself, attempted -a few useless expostulations, and then, quivering -with rage likewise, he said, “You will repent of -this,” and to the great regret of Father Valmajour, -left the house.</p> - -<p>“Look out, little girl, you are going to bring -us into some misfortune!”</p> - -<p>“Not much! It’s them that we’ll give trouble -to; I am going to ask the advice of Guilloche.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">[307]</span></p> - -<div class="center"> -<span class="smcap">Guilloche, contentieux.</span></div> - -<p>Behind the yellow card bearing those two -words, fastened on the door which was opposite -their own, was one of those terrible business men -whose entire instalment consists of an enormous -leather portfolio containing the minutes and -notes of rancid lawsuits, sheets of white paper for -secret denunciations and begging letters, bits of -pie-crust, a false beard and sometimes even a -hammer with which to strike milkwomen dead, -as was seen recently in a famous lawsuit. This -type of man, of whom many exist in Paris, would -not be worthy of a single line if said Guilloche, -a name which was as good as a signboard when -one considered his countenance divided up into -a thousand little symmetrical wrinkles, had not -added to his profession an entirely new and characteristic -department.</p> - -<p>Guilloche did the business of penalties for -schoolboys and collegians. A poor devil of an -usher, when the classes came out from recitation, -went about collecting the penalties in the way of -copies to be turned in. He stayed awake far into -the night copying lines of the Æneid or the -various forms of the Greek verb <i>luo</i>. When there -was lack of regular business Guilloche, who was a -graduate of college, harnessed himself up for this -original work, which he found fairly profitable.</p> - -<p>Audiberte’s matter having been explained to -him, he declared that it was excellent. The -Minister might be legally held up and the newspapers<span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">[308]</span> -might be made to come down; the photograph -alone was worth a mine of gold; only it -was necessary to use time to go hither and thither -and he must have advances of money which must -be paid down in good coin; as for the Puyfourcat -inheritance, that seemed to him a pure Fata Morgana, -a dictum which mortified terribly the peasant -girl’s love of lucre already so terribly tried, all -the more because Valmajour, who had been much -asked to swell drawing-rooms during the first -winter, no longer set foot in a single house of the -Faubourg St. <i>Germoyne</i>.</p> - -<p>“So much the worse! I will work the harder, -I will economize—<i>zou!</i>”</p> - -<p>That energetic little Arlesian head-dress flew -about in the great new building, ran up and down -stairs, carrying from story to story her tale of -adventure <i>wid</i> the Menister. She excited herself, -squealed, pounced about, and then in a mysterious -voice would say: “And <i>thin</i> there’s the -photograph,” and with a furtive and sidelong -glance, such as the sellers of photographs in the -arcades employ when old libertines call for tights, -she would show the picture:</p> - -<p>“A pretty girl, at any rate! And you have read -what is written there underneath?”</p> - -<p>This kind of thing happened in the bosom of -the temporary families and with the roller-skating -ladies of the rink or at the Straw-Lair—ladies -whom she pompously called Mme. Malvina -or Mme. Éloïse, being deeply impressed by their -velvet skirts, their chemises edged with holes for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">[309]</span> -ribbons and all the implements of their business, -without bothering herself otherwise as to what -that business might be. And thus the picture of -this lovely creature, so distinguished and delicate, -passed through these critical and curious -defilements; they picked her to pieces; they -read laughing the silly avowal of love, until -the Provençal girl took her treasure back again -and thrust it into the mouth of her money-bag -with a furious gesture and in a strangled voice -exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Well, I guess we have got them with that!”</p> - -<p><i>Zou!</i> off she flew to the bailiff—the bailiff for -the affair of the skating-rink, the bailiff used to -hunt Cadaillac, the bailiff for Roumestan. And as -if that were not sufficient for her quarrelsome disposition, -she had a host of troubles with janitors, -the unending fight about the tabor-playing, which -ended this time in the exile of Valmajour to one -of those basements leased by a wine merchant -where the sounding of hunting-horns alternate -with lessons in kicking and boxing. From that -time forth it was in this cellar, by the light of -a gas jet which cost them so much per hour, and -while looking about at the vests and fencing-gloves -and copper horns hung on the wall, that -the tabor-player passed his hours of exercise, pale -and lonely like a captive, sending forth from -below the pavement all kinds of variations on the -shepherd’s pipe, not at all unlike the mournful -and piercing notes of a baker’s cricket.</p> - -<p>One day Audiberte received an invitation to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">[310]</span> -call upon the Commissary of Police in her quarter. -She ran thither quickly, quite certain that -it referred to her cousin Puyfourcat, and entered -smiling with her head-dress tossing; but after a -quarter of an hour she crept out, overwhelmed -by a very peasant-like horror of the policeman, -who, at his very first word, had forced her to -deliver up the photograph and sign a receipt for -ten thousand francs in which she absolutely renounced -all and any suits at law. All the same -she obstinately refused to leave, insisted upon -believing in the genius of her brother and kept -always alive in the depths of her memory the -delicious astonishment caused one winter evening -by that long file of carriages passing through -the courtyard of the Ministry, where all the -windows were alight.</p> - -<p>When she came back she notified her two men, -who were much more frightened than she was, -that not another word was to be spoken about that -business; but she never piped a word about the -money. Guilloche, who suspected that there was -some money, employed every means in his power -to get a portion of it, and having obtained only -the slenderest commission, felt a frightful rancor -in regard to the Valmajours.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said he one morning to Audiberte -while she was brushing on the staircase the finest -clothes belonging to the musician, who was still -in bed, “well, I hope you are satisfied at last. -He is dead!”</p> - -<p>“Who is dead?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">[311]</span></p> - -<p>“Why, Puyfourcat, your cousin; it is in the -paper.”</p> - -<p>She gave a screech, rushed into the apartment, -calling aloud and almost in tears:</p> - -<p>“Father! Brother! Hurry quick, the inheritance!”</p> - -<p>As all of them clustered terribly moved and -panting in a circle about that infernal fellow -Guilloche, the latter slowly unfolded the <i>Journal -Officiel</i> and in a very leisurely manner read to -them as follows:</p> - -<p>“‘On this first day of October 1876, the Court -at Mostaganem has ordered the publication and -advertisement of the following inheritances at the -order of the Ministry of the Interior.—Popelino -(Louis), day-laborer—’ No, it isn’t that one—‘Puyfourcat -(Dosithée)—’”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that’s him,” said Audiberte.</p> - -<p>The old bird thought it was necessary to wipe -his eyes a bit.</p> - -<p>“<i>Pécaïré!</i> Poor Dosithée—!”</p> - -<p>“——died at Mostaganem the 14th of January, -1874, born at Valmajour in the commune of -Aps—”</p> - -<p>In her eagerness and impatience the peasant -girl asked:</p> - -<p>“How much is it?”</p> - -<p>“Three francs, thirty-five <i>cintimes!</i>” cried -Guilloche in the voice of a fruit-peddler; and -leaving in their hands the paper, in order that -they might thoroughly verify the disappointment -which had come to them, he flew off with a roar of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">[312]</span> -laughter which seemed infectious, for it rang -from story to story down into the street and -delighted all that great big village called Montmartre, -where the legend of the Valmajours’ -inheritance had been widely circulated.</p> - -<p>The inheritance from Puyfourcat, only three -francs thirty-five! Audiberte pretended to laugh -at it harder than the others, but the frightful -desire for vengeance upon the Roumestans, who -were in her eyes responsible for all their troubles, -burned within her and now only increased in -fury and looked about for some pretext or means, -for the first weapon that lay to hand.</p> - -<p>Most singular was the countenance of papa -during this disaster. The while his daughter -pined away with weariness and fury, and the -captive musician became paler with every day -passed in his cellar, papa, expanding like a rose, -careless of what happened, did not even show his -old professional envy and jealousy; he seemed to -have arranged some quiet existence for himself -outside and away from his family. Hardly had -he stowed away the last mouthful of breakfast than -off he went; and sometimes in the morning, when -she was brushing his clothes, she noticed that a -dried fig or a prune or some preserve or other -would fall out of his pockets, and when she asked -how they came there, the old fellow had one story -or another for an explanation.</p> - -<p>He had met a peasant woman from their country -in the street, or he had run across a man from -down there who was coming to see them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">[313]</span></p> - -<p>Audiberte tossed her head: “<i>Avaï!</i> Wait -till I follow you once!”</p> - -<p>The truth was that while strolling about Paris -the old man had discovered in the St. Denis -quarter a big shop of food-stuffs, where he had -entered, lured by the sign and by the temptations -of the exotic shop-front, which was full of colored -fruits and of silver and painted papers; it made -a brilliant bit of color in the foggy, populous -street. This shop, where he had ended by becoming -a crony and friend of the family, was well -known to Southerners quartered in Paris and had -for its sign:</p> - -<div class="center"> -<span class="smcap">Aux Produits du Midi.</span></div> - -<p>“At the products of the South”—never was a -sign more truthful. Everything in that shop was -the product of the South, from the shopkeepers, -M. and Mme. Mèfre, who were two products -of the Fat South, having the prominent nose -of Roumestan, the flaring eyes, the accent, the -phrases and demonstrative welcome of Provence, -down to their shop-boys, who were familiar and -called people by their first names and did not -hesitate in their guttural voices to call out to -the desk: “I say, Mèfre, where did youse put the -sausages?”—yes, down to the little Mèfre children, -whining and dirty, who passed their lives -amid a constant menace of being disembowelled or -scalped or made into soup, but who nevertheless -kept right on sticking their little dirty fingers -into all the open barrels; nay, even to the buyers,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">[314]</span> -gesticulating and gossiping by the hour together -in order at last to buy a <i>barquette</i> (boat shaped -cake) for two cents, or taking their seats on chairs -in a circle in order to discuss the merits of garlic -sausage or of pepper sausage. Here one might -listen to the “none the less, at least, come now, -other ways”—the whole vocabulary, in fact, belonging -to Aunt Portal, exchanged in the most -noisy voices, whilst the “dear brother” in a dyed-over -black coat, a friend of the family, haggled -over some salt fish, and the flies, the vast horde -of flies, drawn hither by all the sugar of these -fruits and the candies and the almost Oriental -pastries, buzzed and boomed right in the middle -of the winter, kept alive by that steady heat. -And when some busy Parisian grew impatient at -the attendants all down at heel and the sublime -indifference these shop people showed, continuing -their gossip from one counter to the other whilst -weighing and doing up things all wrong, it was -a sight to see how that Parisian was put in his -place by some remark uttered in the strongest -country accent:</p> - -<p>“<i>Té! vé!</i> if you are in a hurry the door is -always open, you know, and the tram-cars are -passing in front of the shop.”</p> - -<p>Father Valmajour was received with open arms -by this gang of compatriots. M. and Mme. -Mèfre remembered that they had seen him in -the old time at the Fair of Beaucaire in a competition -of tabor-players.</p> - -<p>Between old people from the South that Fair at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">[315]</span> -Beaucaire, now no more and existing merely as a -name, has remained like a Masonic bond of -brotherhood. In our Southern provinces it was -the fairy-tale for the whole year, the one distraction -for all those narrow lives; people got ready -for it a long time in advance, and for a long time -after they talked about it. It formed a reward -which could be promised to wife and children, and -if it was not possible to take them along, one -might bring them a bit of Spanish lace or a toy, -which took little place in one’s bag. The Beaucaire -Fair, moreover, under pretext of business, -meant a whole month or a fortnight at least of the -free, exuberant and unexpected life of a camp of -gypsies. One got a bed here or there from the -citizens or in the shops or on top of desks, or else -in the open street under the canvas hood of -wagons or even below the warm light of the July -stars.</p> - -<p>O, for the business without the boredom of the -shop, matters treated while one dines, or at the -door in shirt sleeves, or at the booths ranged -along the <i>Pré</i>, on the banks of the Rhône! The -river itself was nothing but a moving fair-ground, -supporting its boats of all shapes, its <i>lahuts</i>, lute -shaped boats with lateen sails which came from -Arles, Marseilles, Barcelona, the Balearic Islands, -filled with wines, anchovies, oranges and cork, -decorated with banners and standards and streamers -which sounded in the fresh wind and reflected -their colors in the swiftly flowing water. And -what a clamor there was in that variegated crowd<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">[316]</span> -of Spaniards, Sardinians, Greeks in long tunics -and embroidered slippers, Armenians with their -furred hats and Turks with their befrogged -jackets, their fans and wide trousers of gray -linen! All these were jammed together in the -open-air restaurants, the booths for children’s -toys and canes and umbrellas, for jewelry and -Oriental pastils and caps. And then to think of -what was called the “fine Sunday,” that is to say, -the first Sunday after the opening of the fair—the -orgies on the quays and the boats and in the -famous restaurants, such as La Vignasse or the -Grand Jardin or the Café Thibaut! Those who -have once seen that fair have always felt a home-sickness -for it to the end of their days.</p> - -<p>One felt free and easy at the shop of the Mèfre -couple, somewhat as at the Beaucaire Fair. And -as a matter of fact, in its picturesque disorder -the shop did resemble an improvised grand fair -for the sale of foreign and southern products. -Here all full and bending were sacks of meal in -a golden powder, dried peas as big and hard as -buck-shot and big chestnuts all wrinkled and -dusty looking, like little faces of old female -charcoal-burners; there stood jars of black and -green olives preserved in the Picholini manner, -tin cans of red oil with the taste of fruit, barrels -of preserves from Apt made of melon rinds, of -figs, of quinces and of apricots—all the remains -of fruit from a fair dropped into molasses. Up -there on the shelves among the salted goods and -preserves, in a thousand bottles and a thousand<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">[317]</span> -tin boxes, were the special relishes belonging to -each city—the shells and little ships of Nîmes, -the nougat of Montélimar, the ducklings and biscuits -of Aix—all in gilded envelopes ticketed -and signed.</p> - -<p>Then there were the early vegetables, an outpouring -of Southern gardens without shadows, in -which the fruits hanging in slender green foliage -have a factitious look of jewels—firm looking jujubes -with a fine sheen of newly lacquered walnut -side by side with pale azeroles, figs of every sort, -sweet lemons, green or scarlet peppers, great big -swelling melons, enormous onions with flowerlike -hearts, muscat grapes with long berries so transparent -that the flesh of them trembles like wine in -a flask, rows of bananas striped black and yellow, -regular landslides of oranges and pomegranates -with their red gold tones, like little bombs made of -red copper with their fuses issuing from a small -crenelated crown. And finally, everywhere, on -the walls and ceilings, on both sides of the door, -in the tangle of burnt palms, chaplets of leeks and -onions and dried carobs, packages of sausages, -bunches of corn on the cob, there was a constant -stream of warm hues, there was the entire summer, -there was the Southern sunshine fastened up -in boxes, sacks and jars radiating color out to -the very sidewalk through the muddiness of the -windows.</p> - -<p>Old Valmajour would enter this shop with his -nostrils dilated, quivering and most excited. This -man, who refused the slightest work in the presence<span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">[318]</span> -of his children and would wipe his brow for -hours over a single button that he had to sew on -his waistcoat, boasting of having accomplished a -labor like one of “Caesar’s,” in this shop was -always ready to lend a helping hand, throw off his -coat to nail up or open cases, picking up here and -there an olive or a bit of berlingot candy and -lightening the labor with his monkey tricks and -stories. On one day in the week, indeed, the day -of the arrival of codfish <i>à la brandade</i>, he stayed -very late at the store in order to aid them in -sending out the orders.</p> - -<p>Among them all this particular Southern dish, -codfish <i>à la brandade</i>, could hardly be found elsewhere -in Paris except at the <i>Produits du Midi</i>; -but it was the true article, white, carded fine, -creamy, with just a touch of garlic, the way it is -done at Nîmes, from which city indeed the Mèfres -had it forwarded. On Thursday evening it -reaches Paris at seven o’clock by the lightning -express and Friday morning it is distributed -throughout the city to all the good customers -whose names are on the big book of the store. -Nay, it is on that very commercial ledger with its -tumbled leaves, smelling of spices and soiled with -oil, that is inscribed the history of the conquest of -Paris by the Southerners; there appear one after -the other all the big fortunes, political and industrial -posts, names of celebrated lawyers, deputies, -ministers, and among them all especially that of -Numa Roumestan, the Vendean of the South, the -pillar of the altar and the throne.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">[319]</span></p> - -<p>For the sake of that single line on which Roumestan’s -name is written the Mèfres would toss -the whole book into the fire. He it is who represents -best their ideas in religion, politics and -everything. It is just as Mme. Mèfre says, and -she is more enthusiastic than her husband:</p> - -<p>“For that man, I tell you, anybody would imperil -their eternal soul.”</p> - -<p>They are very fond of recalling the period when -Numa, already on the road to fame, did not disdain -to come there himself to buy his stores. And -how he did understand the way of choosing by the -touch a pasty! or a sausage that sweats nicely -under the knife! Then such kind-heartedness! -and that imposing, handsome face! and always a -compliment for Madame, a pleasant word for his -“dear brother,” a caressing touch for the little -Mèfres who accompanied him as far as the carriage -bearing his parcels. Since his elevation to -the Ministry, since those scoundrels of Reds had -given him so much bother in the two Chambers, -they did not see anything more of him, <i>pécaïré!</i> -but he always remained faithful to the <i>Produits</i>, and -it was always he who got the first distribution.</p> - -<p>One Thursday evening about ten o’clock, when -all the pots of codfish <i>à la brandade</i> had been -wrapped and tied and placed in fine alignment on -the counter, the whole Mèfre family, the shop -boys, old Valmajour and all the products of the -South were in full number on hand, perspiring -and blowing. They were taking a rest with the -peculiar air of people who have accomplished a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">[320]</span> -difficult task and were “dipping a bit” with ladyfingers -and biscuits steeped in thick wine or orgeat -syrup—“Come now, just something mild”—for -as to anything strong, Southerners do not care -for that at all. Among the townspeople as in the -country parts drunkenness from alcohol is almost -unknown. Instinctively this race has a fear and -horror of it; it feels itself intoxicated from its -birth—drunk without drinking.</p> - -<p>For it is most certainly true that the wind and -the sun distil for them a terrible kind of natural alcohol -whose effect is felt more or less by all those -born down there. Some of them have only that -little drop too much which loosens the tongue and -gestures and causes one to see life rosy in color -and discover sympathetic souls everywhere, which -brightens the eye, widens the streets, sweeps away -obstacles, doubles audacity and strengthens the -timid; others who are violently affected, like the -little Valmajour girl or Aunt Portal, reach at any -minute the limits of a stuttering, stammering and -blind delirium. To understand it one must have -seen our festivals in Provence with the peasants -standing up on the tables yelling and pounding -with their big yellow shoes, screaming: “Waiter, -<i>dé gazeuse!</i>” (lemon soda)—an entire village raving -drunk over a few bottles of lemonade. And -where is the Southerner who has not experienced -those sudden prostrations of the intoxicated, those -breakings-down of the whole being, right on the -heels of wrath or of enthusiasm—changes as sudden -as a sunburst or a shadow across a March sky?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">[321]</span></p> - -<p>Without possessing the delirious Southern quality -of his daughter, Father Valmajour was born -with a pretty lively case of it. And that evening -his ladyfingers dipped in orgeat affected him with -a crazy jollity which made him reel off, standing -with his glass in his hand and his mouth all twisted -in the middle of the shop, all the farcical performances -of an old sponge who pays his scot without -money. The Mèfres and their shopmen were rolling -around on the flour sacks with delight:</p> - -<p>“<i>Oh! de ce Valmajour, pas moins!</i>” (O! that -Valmajour, what a fellow he is!)</p> - -<p>Suddenly the liveliness of the old fellow stopped -short and his gesture, like that of a jumping-jack, -was brought to a dead pause by the apparition -before him of a Provençal head-dress trembling -with rage.</p> - -<p>“What are you doing here, father?”</p> - -<p>Madame Mèfre raised her arms toward the sausages -suspended from the ceiling:</p> - -<p>“What! this is your young lady? And you -have never told us about her! Well, how teeny-weeny -she is! but a good girl, I’ll be bound. -Take a seat Miss, do!”</p> - -<p>Owing as much to his habit of lying as to a -desire to keep himself free, the old man had never -spoken about his children, but had given himself -out as an old bachelor who lived on his income; -but among Southern people nobody is at a -loss for one invention or another; if an entire -caravan of little Valmajours had marched in on -the heels of Audiberte the welcome would have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">[322]</span> -been just the same, just as warm and demonstrative; -they rushed forward and made a place for -her.</p> - -<p>“<i>Différemment</i>, you must eat some dipped ladyfingers -with us, too.”</p> - -<p>The Provençal girl stood embarrassed. She had -just come from outside, from the cold and blackness -of the night, a hard night of December, -where the feverish life of Paris continued to pulsate -in spite of the late hour and could be felt -through the heavy fog torn in every direction by -swiftly moving shadows, the colored lanterns of -the omnibuses and the hoarse horns of the street -cars; she arrived from the North, she arrived from -winter, and then all of a sudden, without transition, -she found herself in the midst of Italian -Provence, in this shop of the Mèfres glowing just -previous to Christmas with all kinds of toothsome -and sun-filled articles, in the midst of the well-known -accents and fragrances of home! It was -her own country suddenly found again, a return to -the motherland after a year of exile, of struggles and -trials far away among the barbarians. A warmth -gradually invaded her and slackened her nerves, -the while she broke her <i>barquette</i> cake in a thimbleful -of Carthagène and answered the questions -of all this kindly set of people, as much at ease -and familiar with her as if everybody had known -each other for twenty years or more. She felt a -return to her life and usual habits; tears rose to -her eyes—those hard eyes with veins of fire which -never wept.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">[323]</span></p> - -<p>The name “Roumestan” uttered at her side -dried up this emotion suddenly. It came from -Mme. Mèfre, who was looking over the addresses -of her clients and was warning her shop-boys not -to make any mistake and especially not to take -the codfish <i>à la brandade</i> for Numa to Grenelle -Street, but to the Rue de Londres.</p> - -<p>“Seems as if codfish is not in the odor of -sanctity in the Rue de Grenelle,” remarked one of -the cronies at the Products.</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed,” said M. Mèfre. “The lady belongs -up North—just as northerly as possible—uses -nothing but butter in her kitchen, eh?—while -in the Rue de Londres there’s the nicest -kind of South, jollity, singing and everything -cooked in oil—I understand why Numa enjoys -himself most there.”</p> - -<p>So they were talking in the lightest of tones of -this second household established by the Minister -in a very convenient little house quite close to the -railway station where he could repose after the -fatigues of the Chamber, free from visitors and -the greater botherations. You may be sure that -the excitable Mme. Mèfre would have uttered -fine screeches if just the same sort of thing had -occurred in her family; but for Numa there was -something very attractive and natural in it.</p> - -<p>He loved the tender passion; but didn’t all -our kings, Charles X and Henry IV, play the gay -Lothario? <i>Té! pardi!</i> He got that from his -Bourbon nose.</p> - -<p>And mixed in with this light tone, this air of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">[324]</span> -delight in spicy talk with which the South treats -all affairs of the heart, there was a race hatred, the -antipathy they felt against the woman of the North, -the strange woman and her food cooked with -butter. They grew excited, they went into a -variety of <i>anédotes</i>, the charms of little Alice and -her successes in grand opera.</p> - -<p>“Why, I knew Mother Bachellery in the old -time of the Fair at Beaucaire,” said old Valmajour. -“She used to sing ballads at the Café Thibaut.”</p> - -<p>Audiberte listened without breathing, never -losing a single word and engraving in her mind -names and addresses; her little eyes glittered with -a diabolical intoxication in which the Carthagène -wine had no part.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">[325]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.<br> - -<span class="smaller">THE BABY CLOTHES.</span></h2> -</div> - - - -<p class="chapfirst">At the light knock heard on her chamber door -Mme. Roumestan trembled as if she had been -caught in a crime, and pushing in again the gracefully -moulded drawer of her Louis XV bureau -over which she had been leaning almost on her -knees, she cried:</p> - -<p>“Who’s there? What do you want, Polly?”</p> - -<p>“A letter for Madame; there is great haste,” -answered the Englishwoman.</p> - -<p>Rosalie took the letter and closed the door -sharply. The writing was unknown and coarse, -traced upon wretched paper, and there was the -“urgent and personal” which accompanies begging -letters. A Parisian chambermaid would -never have disturbed her for such a little thing as -that. She pitched it on the bureau, postponing -the reading of it till later, and returned quickly -to her drawer which contained the marvels of -the baby’s old layette. For the last eight years, -ever since the tragedy, she had not opened it, -fearing to find her tears there again; nor even -since her new happiness had she done so owing -to a very maternal superstition, fearing lest she -should come to grief once more by means of a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">[326]</span> -premature caress given by way of its little layette -to the child that was yet to come.</p> - -<p>This courageous lady had all the nervous feelings -of the woman, all her tremblings, all the -shivery drawing-together of the mimosa. The -world, which judges without understanding anything, -found her cold, just as the dull and stupid -suppose that flowers are not endowed with life. -But now, her happiness having endured for six -months, she must make up her mind to bring all -these little articles out from their mourning and -enclosure, shake out their pleats, go over and -perhaps change them; for even in the case of -baby clothes fashion changes and the ribbons are -adjusted differently at different times. It was for -this most intimate work that Rosalie had carefully -locked herself in; throughout that big bustling -Ministry, rustling with papers and humming with -reports and the feverish flitting hither and thither -from offices to departments, there was assuredly -nothing quite so serious, nothing quite so moving -as that woman on her knees before an -open drawer, her heart beating and her hands -trembling.</p> - -<p>She took up the laces somewhat yellow with -time which preserved along with the perfume all -this white mass of innocent clothes—baby caps -and undershirts arranged according to age and -size, the gown for baptism, the robe full of little -pleats and the doll stockings. She recalled her life -down there at Orsay, gently languid and at work -for hours together in the shadow of the big catalpa<span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">[327]</span> -whose white petals dropped into her work-basket -among her spools and delicate embroidery scissors, -her entire thought concentrated upon some -one point of tailoring which gave her the measure -of her dreams and the passage of time. What -illusions she had then had, what belief and trust! -What a delicious murmuring throughout the -foliage above her head and what a rising up of -tender and novel sensations in herself! In a -single day life had suddenly taken all that from -her. And so despair flowed back again to her -heart as little by little she pulled forth the layette—the -treason of her husband, the loss of her -child.</p> - -<p>The appearance of the first little dress all ready -to be pulled on, that which is laid on the cradle -at the moment of birth, the sleeves pushed one -within the other, the arms spread apart, the -little caps blown up to a round shape, made -her burst into tears. It seemed to her that her -child had lived and that she had known it and -held it to her heart. A son, O, certainly it was -a boy, a strong and beautiful one, and from his -very birth he had the mysterious and deep eyes -of his grandfather! To-day he would have been -eight years old and have had long curls falling -round his shoulders; at that age they still belong -to the mother, who takes them walking, dresses -them, makes them work. Ah, cruel, cruel life!</p> - -<p>But after a while, as she pulled out and twitched -into shape these little objects tied together with -microscopic bows, with their embroidered flowers<span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">[328]</span> -and snowy laces, she began to be calm. Well, -no; after all, life is not so evil, and while it lasts -one must keep up one’s courage. At that terrible -turn of her life she had lost all of hers, imagining -that the end had come, so far as she was concerned, -for believing, loving, being wife and -mother; thinking in fact that there only remained -for her the pleasure of looking back upon the -shining past and watching it disappear in the -distance like some shore which one regrets to -leave. Then after gloomy years the spring had -shot out its fruits slowly beneath the cold snow of -her heart; lo and behold, it flowered again in this -little creature who was about to live and whom -she felt was already vigorous from the terrible -little kicks which it gave her during the night. -And then her Numa, so changed, so good, quite -cured of his brutality and violence! To be sure -he still showed weaknesses which she did not like, -those roundabout Italian ways which he could -not help having, but, even as he said—“O, that?—that -is politics!” Besides that, she was no -longer the victim of the illusions of her early -years; she knew that in order to live happily -one must be contented with coming near to what -one desires in everything and that complete happiness -can only be quarried from the half-happinesses -which existence affords us.</p> - -<p>A new knock at the door. It is M. Méjean -who would like to speak to Madame.</p> - -<p>“Very good, I’m coming.”</p> - -<p>She found him in the little drawing-room which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">[329]</span> -he was measuring from end to end with excited -steps.</p> - -<p>“I have a confession to make to you,” said he, -using a somewhat brusque tone of familiarity which -their old friendship authorized and which both of -them would have liked to have turned into a -relationship of brother and sister. “Some days -ago I put an end to this wretched affair—and did -not withhold the statement from you for the sake -of keeping this longer in my possession—”</p> - -<p>He held out to her the portrait of Hortense -obtained from Audiberte.</p> - -<p>“Well, at last! O, how happy she is going -to be, poor dear!”</p> - -<p>She softened at the sight of her sister’s pretty -face, her sister sparkling with health and youth -in that Provençal disguise, and read at the bottom -of the picture in her fine and very firm writing: -“I believe in you and I love you—Hortense Le -Quesnoy.” Then, remembering that the wretched -lover had also read it and that he must have been -intrusted with a very sorrowful commission in -procuring it, she grasped his hand affectionately:</p> - -<p>“Thank you.”</p> - -<p>“No, do not thank me, Madame.—Yes, it was -hard—but for the last eight days I have lived -with that ‘I believe in you and I love you,’ and -at times I could imagine that it was meant for -me.” And then very low and timidly: “How -is she getting on?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, not well at all—Mamma is taking her -South. Now she is willing to do whatever anybody<span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">[330]</span> -wishes—it is just as if a spring had broken -in her.”</p> - -<p>“Altered?”</p> - -<p>Rosalie made a gesture: “Ah!”</p> - -<p>“Till we meet again, Madame,” said Méjean -very quickly, moving away with hurried steps; he -turned back again at the door and squaring his -solid shoulders beneath the half-raised curtain:</p> - -<p>“It is the luckiest thing in the world that I -have no imagination. I should be altogether too -unhappy!”</p> - -<p>Rosalie returned to her room deeply dejected. -There was no use in fighting against it by recalling -her sister’s youth and the encouraging words -of Jarras, who persisted in looking upon it merely -as a crisis which it was necessary to cross; black -thoughts invaded her which would not tally with -the festive white in the baby’s layette. She hastened -to tie up, lay in order and turn the key upon -these little scattered articles, and as she got up -she perceived the letter lying on the bureau, took -and read it mechanically, expecting to find the -commonplace begging statement which she received -every day from so many different hands, -and which would have come at a lucky moment -during one of those spells of superstition, when -charity seems a bringer of good luck. That was -why she did not understand it at first and was -obliged to read again these lines, which had been -written out as a copy by the ignorant pen of a -schoolboy, the boy employed by Guilloche:</p> - -<p>“If you are fond of codfish <i>à la brandade</i>,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">[331]</span> -delicious is that which is eaten to-night at the -house of Mme. Bachellery in the Rue de Londres. -Your husband pays for the supper. Ring three -times and enter straight ahead.”</p> - -<p>From these foolish phrases, from this slimy and -perfidious abyss, the truth arose and appeared to -her, helped by coincidences and recollections—that -name “Bachellery” pronounced so often during -the past year, enigmatical articles in the papers -concerning her engagement at the opera, that -address which she had heard Numa himself give, -and the long stay at Arvillard. In a second, -doubt crystallized itself in her to certainty. And -besides, did not the past throw a light for her upon -this present and all its actual horror? Lies and -grimace—he was not and could not be anything -but that. Why should this eternal maker of dupes -spare her? It was her fault; she had been the -fool to allow herself to be caught by his lying -voice and vulgar caresses. And in the same -second certain details came to her mind which -made her red and pale by turns.</p> - -<p>This time it was no longer despair showing -itself with heavy, pure tears as in the early deceptions, -but anger against herself for having been so -feeble and cowardly as to have been able to -pardon him, and against him who had duped her -in contempt of the promises and oaths in connection -with the former crime. She would like to -have convicted him of his villainy there, on the -moment, but he was at Versailles in the Chamber -of Deputies. It occurred to her to call Méjean,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">[332]</span> -but then she felt a repugnance to force that honest -fellow to lie. And being thus reduced to crushing -down a swarm of contrary feelings, prevent herself -from crying out and surrendering to the -terrible nerve-crisis which she felt rising in her, -she strode to and fro on the carpet, her hands -with a familiar action resting against the loosened -waist of her dressing-gown. All of a sudden she -stopped and shuddered, seized by a crazy fear.</p> - -<p>Her child!</p> - -<p>He was suffering too and he was calling to his -mother with all the power of a life which is -struggling to exist. Oh, my God, if he also, if he -was going to die like the other one at the same -age, and under exactly similar conditions! Destiny, -which people call blind, has sometimes savage -combinations, and she began to reason with herself -in half-broken words and tender exclamations. -“Dear little fellow!—poor little fellow!—” and -attempted to look upon everything coldly as it -exists, in order to conduct herself in a dignified -way and above all not to destroy that solitary -good thing which remained to her. She even -took in hand some work, that embroidery of -Penelope which the Parisian woman keeps about -her, being always in action; for it was necessary -to wait for Numa’s return and have an explanation -with him, or rather to discover in his attitude -a conviction of his crime, before it came to the -irremediable scandal of a separation.</p> - -<p>O, those brilliant wools and that regular and -colorless canvas—what confidences may they not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">[333]</span> -receive, what regrets, joys and desires form the -complicated and knotted reverse of the canvas -full of broken threads in these feminine products, -with their flowers peacefully interwoven!</p> - -<p>Coming back from the Chamber of Deputies, -Numa Roumestan found his wife embroidering -beneath the narrow gleam of a single lighted -lamp, and this quiet picture, her lovely profile -softened by her chestnut-colored hair, in that -luxurious shade of cushioned furniture where the -lacquer screens and old bronzes, the ivories and -potteries, caught the warm and shooting rays from -a wood fire, overcame him by contrast with the -noise of the Assembly, where the brilliantly -lighted ceilings are swathed in a dust full of -movement that floats above the hall of debate like -the smoke from powder above a field where -military are manœuvring.</p> - -<p>“How do you do, Mamma; it’s pleasant here -with you.”</p> - -<p>The day’s meeting had been a hot one; always -that wretched appropriation bill, and the Left -fastened for five hours on the coat tails of that poor -General d’Espaillon, who didn’t know enough -to put two ideas together when he wasn’t saying -g—d—, etc., etc. Well, anyhow, the Cabinet -would get through this time; but after the vacation -at New Year’s, when the Assembly would -reach the question of the Fine Arts—then was -the time to look out!</p> - -<p>“They are counting very much on the Cadaillac -business to upset me!... Rougeot is the one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_334">[334]</span> -who will talk.... He’s no chicken, that Rougeot; -he has a backbone!”</p> - -<p>Then with his famous jerk of the shoulder: -“Rougeot against Roumestan—the North against -the South—all the better! It will amuse me. It -will be a hand-to-hand fight.”</p> - -<p>Excited by his political matters, he talked on in -a monologue without noticing how silent Rosalie -was. Then he approached her and, sitting very -near her on a footstool, made her stop her work -by trying to kiss her hand.</p> - -<p>“You seem to be in a terrible hurry with what -you are embroidering. Is it for my New Year’s -present? I have bought yours. Just guess what -it is!”</p> - -<p>She pulled her hand gently away and looked -him steadily in the face in an embarrassing manner -without answering him. His features were -drawn and weary from his days of work in the -Assembly, showing that loosened look of the face -and revealing in the corners of the eyes and the -mouth a character at once weak and violent—all -the passions and nothing to resist them. Faces -down south are like the Southern landscape. It -is better not to look at them unless the sun is -shining.</p> - -<p>“Are you dining at home?” asked Rosalie.</p> - -<p>“No, I’m sorry to say—I’m expected at -Durand’s—a tiresome dinner—<i>té!</i> I’m already -late,” added he as he rose. “Luckily it is not -necessary to dress there.”</p> - -<p>That fixed look in his wife’s face followed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">[335]</span> -him. “Dine with me, I beg of you—” and her -harmonious voice hardened into insistence and -sounded threatening and implacable.</p> - -<p>But Roumestan was no observer. “And besides, -business is business, is it not so? O, this life of -a public man cannot be arranged as one would -wish!”</p> - -<p>“Well then, goodbye,” said she gravely, completing -that farewell within her own mind with a -“since it is our destiny.”</p> - -<p>She listened to the coupé roll off beneath the -vaulted passage and then, having carefully folded -up her work, she rang.</p> - -<p>“A carriage, right away—a hackney-coach—and -you, Polly, give me my mantle and bonnet—I’m -going out.”</p> - -<p>Quickly ready to start, she embraced in one -look the chamber she was quitting, where she -neither regretted anything nor left behind her any -part of herself, for it was merely the room of a furnished -apartment-house despite all the pomp of -its cold yellow brocades.</p> - -<p>“See that the big cardboard box is put in the -carriage.”</p> - -<p>Of what belonged to both, the baby’s layette -was all that she carried off.</p> - -<p>Standing at the door of the coach the mystified -Englishwoman asked if Madame was not going -to dine at home. No, she will dine at her father’s -where probably she will also pass the night.</p> - -<p>On the way a doubt overcame her, or rather -a scruple. Suppose nothing of all this were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">[336]</span> -true? Suppose that Bachellery girl did not live -in the Rue de Londres. She gave the coachman -the address, but without much hope; still, she -must have certainty on this point.</p> - -<p>The carriage stopped before a little house two -stories high, crowned by a terrace for a summer -garden; it was the old home in Paris of a Cairo -man who had just died a bankrupt. There was -about it the look of a little house with shutters -closed and curtains drawn; a strong odor of the -kitchen rose from the brightly lit and noisy basement. -Rosalie understood what it was just from -noting how the front door obeyed three strokes of -the bell and of itself seemed to turn upon its hinges. -A Persian tapestry caught up by heavy cords in the -centre of the antechamber allowed a glimpse of -the stair with its soft carpet and its lamps in which -the gas was burning at the highest point. She -heard laughter, took two steps forward and saw -what never more in her life she could forget.</p> - -<p>At the turn of the stairs on the first floor Numa -was leaning over the banisters red and excited, -in his shirt sleeves, with his arm round the waist -of that girl, who was also very much excited, her -hair loosened and falling down her back upon the -frills of a rose-colored silk morning-gown. And -there he was, calling out in his violent way:</p> - -<p>“Bompard, bring up the <i>brandade!</i>”</p> - -<p>That was where he could be seen as he really -was, the Minister of Public Instruction and Religion, -the great proclaimer of religious morality, -the defender of sound doctrines! It was there he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_337">[337]</span> -showed himself without mask or hypocritical -grimace—all his South turned outside for inspection!—at -ease and in his shirt-sleeves as if at the -Fair of Beaucaire.</p> - -<p>“Bompard, bring up the <i>brandade!</i>” repeated -the giddy girl, intentionally exaggerating Numa’s -Provençal accent. Without a question that was -Bompard, the improvised cookshop boy who -came up from the kitchen, a napkin over his -shoulder and his arms surrounding a great big -dish. It was he who caused the sounding wing of -the door to turn on its hinges.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_338">[338]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.<br> - -<span class="smaller">NEW YEAR’S DAY.</span></h2> -</div> - - - -<p class="chapfirst">“Gentlemen of the Central Administration!”</p> - -<p>“Directors of the Academy of the Fine Arts!”</p> - -<p>“Gentlemen of the Academy of Medicine!”</p> - -<p>In grand gala dress, with his short hose and -sword by his side, the chamberlain was announcing -the arrivals in a mournful voice that resounded -through the solemn drawing-rooms. As he called -out, lines of black coats crossed the immense hall -all red and gold and ranged themselves in a half-circle -before the Minister, who stood with his back -to the chimneypiece, having near him his Under-Secretary -of State, M. de la Calmette, and his chief -of cabinet, his foppish attachés and a few directors -belonging to the Ministry such as Dansaert and -Béchut. His Excellency addressed compliments -and congratulations for the decorations and academic -palms granted to some of those present, -according as each organization arrived and was -presented by its dean or president; then the organization -turned right about and gave way to -another set, some bodies retiring whilst others -arrived, causing no little confusion at the doors of -the hall.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_339">[339]</span></p> - -<p>For it was late; it was past one o’clock and -each man was thinking of the breakfast which was -waiting for him at home. In the concert hall -which had been turned into a vestiary, impatient -groups were looking at their watches, buttoning -their gloves, adjusting their white cravats below -their drawn faces; gaping and weariness, bad temper -and hunger were on every side. Roumestan -himself felt the weariness of this important day. -He had lost his fine warmth of spirit shown at the -same time last year, his faith in the future and in -reform, and he let his little speeches off slowly, -pierced through to his very marrow by the cold, -despite the radiators and the enormous flaming -wood fire; indeed, that little flaky snow which -whirled about the panes of the windows seemed to -fall upon his light heart and congeal it even as it -fell upon the greensward of the garden.</p> - -<p>“Gentlemen of the Comédie-Française!”</p> - -<p>Closely shaved and solemn, distributing bows -just as the fashion was in the grand epoch, they -posed themselves in majestic attitudes about their -dean, who in a cavernous voice presented the company, -talked about the endeavors and vows the -company had made—“the” company, without -any epithet or qualifying word, just as we say -“God” or as we say “the” Bible—exactly as if -no other company existed in the world except -that alone! And it must be said that poor Roumestan -needs be very much enfeebled if this same -company could not excite his eloquence and grand -theatrical phrases, this company to which he himself<span class="pagenum" id="Page_340">[340]</span> -seemed to belong with his bluish chin, his jowls -and his distinguished but most conventional poses!</p> - -<p>The fact was that for the last eight days, since -the departure of Rosalie, he was like a gambler -who has lost his mascot; he was frightened and -suddenly felt himself inferior to his fortune and -thus ready to be crushed. Mediocrities who have -been favored by chance have such panics and -nervous crises and they were increased in him by -the terrible scandal which was about to break -out, the scandal of a lawsuit for separation which -the young wife insisted upon absolutely, notwithstanding -all his letters and visits, his grovelling -prayers and oaths. To keep up appearances it -was said at the Ministry that Mme. Roumestan -had gone to live with her father because of the -near departure of Mme. Le Quesnoy and Hortense. -But nobody was taken in by that, and the -luckless man saw his adventure reflected in pity or -curiosity or sarcasm from all these faces which -were defiling before him, as well as from certain -broadly marked smiles and from various shakes -of the hand, a little more energetic than usual. -There was not a single one of the lowest employees -who had come to the reception in jacket -and overcoat who was not thoroughly posted in -this matter. Among the offices couplets were circulating -from mouth to mouth in which Chambéry -rhymed with Bachellery; more than one porter -discontented with his pay was humming one of -these couplets within himself whilst making a -deep bow to his supreme chief.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_341">[341]</span></p> - -<p>Two o’clock! Still the organized bodies kept -presenting themselves and the snow kept deepening -whilst the man with the chains over his uniform -introduced pell-mell and without any kind of -order:</p> - -<p>“Gentlemen of the School of Laws!”</p> - -<p>“Gentlemen of the Conservatory of Music!”</p> - -<p>“Directors of the Subsidized Theatres!”</p> - -<p>By favor of seniority and his three failures -Cadaillac arrived at the head of this delegation. -Roumestan longed far more to fall with fist and -foot upon the cynical <i>impresario</i> whose nomination -had occasioned such serious embarrassment to -him than to listen to the fine speech to which the -ferocious insolence of his look gave the lie and to -answer him with a forced compliment, half of which -stuck in the big folds of his cravat:</p> - -<p>“Greatly touched, gentlemen ... <i>mn mn mn</i> ... progress -of art ... <i>mn mn mn</i> ... still -better in the future....”</p> - -<p>And the <i>impresario</i> as he moved off:</p> - -<p>“Poor old Numa—he’s got a charge of lead in -his wing this time!”</p> - -<p>When these had left, the Minister and his comrades -did honor to the usual breakfast; but this -meal which had been so gay and full of effusion -the year before was weighted down by the gloom -of the chief and bad temper on the part of his intimates, -who were all of them enraged with him -on account of their own situations which he had -already begun to compromise. This scandalous -lawsuit coming just in the midst of the debate over<span class="pagenum" id="Page_342">[342]</span> -Cadaillac would be sure to make Roumestan impossible -as a member of the cabinet. That very -morning at the reception in the Palace of the -Élysées the Marshal had said two words about it -with the laconic and brutal eloquence natural to -an old cavalryman: “A dirty business!”</p> - -<p>Without precisely having heard this speech from -an august mouth, which was murmured in Numa’s -ear in an alcove, the gentlemen round him saw -very clearly their own fall coming behind that of -their chief.</p> - -<p>“Oh, women, women!” grunted the learned -Béchut over his plate. M. de la Calmette with his -thirty years of official life grew melancholy as he -pondered over a retiring from office like unto -Tircis, and below his breath the long-legged Lappara -amused himself by frightening Rochemaure -out of his wits:</p> - -<p>“Viscount, we must look out for ourselves; we -shall be decapitated before eight days are over!”</p> - -<p>After a toast had been given by the Minister to -the New Year and his dear collaborators, uttered -with a shaky voice in which one heard the tears, they -separated. Méjean, who stayed to the last, walked -two or three times up and down beside his friend -without having the courage to say a single word; -then he too left. Notwithstanding his wish to keep -by his side during that day a man like Méjean -whose straightforward nature forced his respect -like a reproach uttered by his own conscience, but -at the same time sustained and reassured him, -Numa could not stand in the way of Méjean’s duty,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_343">[343]</span> -which was to run his round of visits and distribute -good wishes and presents for the New Year, any -more than he could prevent his chamberlain from -going back to his family and unburdening himself -of his sword and short-clothes.</p> - -<p>What a howling solitude was that Ministry! It -was like Sunday in a factory with the boiler cold -and silent. In all the departments upstairs and -downstairs, in his own cabinet, where he vainly -attempted to write, in his bed-chamber, which he -began once more to fill with his sobs, everywhere -that little January snow was whirling about the big -windows, veiling the horizon and increasing the -silence which was like that of the Eastern steppes.</p> - -<p>Oh, the misery of men in lofty positions!</p> - -<p>A clock struck four and then another answered -and then still others replied through the vast -desert of the palace until it seemed as if there was -nothing alive there except the hour. The idea of -remaining there till evening face to face with his -wretchedness frightened him. He felt that he -must thaw himself a little with a bit of friendship -and tenderness. Steam radiators and warm-air -registers and half trees flaming in the chimneypiece -did not constitute a hearth; for a moment -he thought of the Rue de Londres. But he had -sworn to his lawyer—for the lawyers were already -at work—to keep quiet until the suit was decided. -All of a sudden a name flashed across his mind: -“Bompard! Why had he not come?” Generally -he was observed to arrive the first on mornings of -feast-days, his arms full of bouquets and paper<span class="pagenum" id="Page_344">[344]</span> -sacks with candies for Rosalie, Hortense and -Mme. Le Quesnoy, wearing on his lips a smile -which expressed his character of grandpapa or of -Santa Claus. Of course Roumestan paid the bill -of these surprises, but friend Bompard was possessed -of imagination enough to forget that fact, -and, notwithstanding her antipathy, Rosalie could -not help being touched when she thought of the -privations which the poor devil must have undergone -in order to be so generous.</p> - -<p>“Suppose I go and get him and we dine -together.”</p> - -<p>He was reduced to that. He rang, took off his -evening dress, all his medals and orders and went -out on foot by the Rue Bellechasse.</p> - -<p>The quays and bridges were all white; but when -he had crossed the courtyard of the Carrousel -neither ground nor air betrayed a trace of snow. -It disappeared under the wheels that crowded the -street, in the swarming myriads of the mob covering -the sidewalks at the shop-fronts and pushing -round the offices of the omnibus lines. This tumult -of a feast-day evening, the calls of the coachmen, -the shrill cries of peddlers in the luminous -confusion of the shop-fronts, where the lilac-colored -jets from the Jablochkoff burners extinguished -the twinkling yellow of the gas and the -last reflections from the pale afternoon, lulled the -despair of Roumestan and dissolved it, as it were, -by means of the agitation of the street. Meantime -he directed his steps toward the Boulevard -Poissonnière where the old Circassian, very sedentary<span class="pagenum" id="Page_345">[345]</span> -like all men of imagination, had lived for the -last twenty years, in fact since his arrival in Paris.</p> - -<p>Nobody had ever seen the interior of Bompard’s -home, of which nevertheless he talked a good -deal, as well as of his garden and his artistic furniture, -to complete which he haunted all the -auctions at the Hôtel Drouot.</p> - -<p>“Do come to breakfast one of these days and -eat a chop with me!”</p> - -<p>That was the regular form of invitation which -he scattered right and left, but any one who took -him at his word never found anybody at home; he -came up standing against signs left by the janitor, -against bells wrapped in paper or deprived of -their wire. During an entire year Lappara and -Rochemaure obstinately continued to try to reach -Bompard’s rooms and overcome the extraordinary -stratagems of the Provençal who was -guarding the mystery of his apartment—but all -in vain. One day he even took out some of the -bricks near the front door in order to be able to -say across this species of barricade to the friends -he had invited:</p> - -<p>“Awfully sorry, dear boys—we have had -an escape of gas—everything blown up last -night!”</p> - -<p>After having mounted numberless stories and -wandered through long corridors, tumbled over -invisible steps and intruded upon veritable assemblies -of witches among the servants’ bedrooms, -Roumestan, quite blown from that arduous ascent, -to which his legs of an illustrious man were no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_346">[346]</span> -longer equal, tumbled against a great big washbowl -fastened to the wall.</p> - -<p>“Who’s there?” spoke out a well-known voice -coming from far down the throat.</p> - -<p>The door opened slowly, weighed down by a -clothes-rack upon which hung the entire wardrobe -of the lodger for winter and summer; the -room was small and Bompard did not lose the -benefit of an eighth of an inch and was compelled -to keep his toilet table in the corridor. His -friend found him lying on a little iron bed, his -brow decorated with a scarlet head-dress, a sort -of Dantesque cap which rose up in astonishment -at sight of the distinguished visitor.</p> - -<p>“It can’t be you!”</p> - -<p>“Are you ill?” said Roumestan.</p> - -<p>“Ill? not much!”</p> - -<p>“Then what are you doing here?”</p> - -<p>“You see I am taking stock of things,” and -then he added, to explain his thought: “I have -so many plans in my head, so many inventions! -Now and then I get dispersed and lose myself; it -is only when I lie abed that I can gather myself -together a little.”</p> - -<p>Roumestan looked about for a chair, but none -was there except the single one in use as a night -table; it was covered with books and newspapers -and had a candlestick wobbling on top of them all. -He sat down on the foot of the bed.</p> - -<p>“Why do we never see anything more of -you?”</p> - -<p>“Pshaw! you must be joking. After what<span class="pagenum" id="Page_347">[347]</span> -happened I could not meet your wife face to face. -Just think a little! There I was right before her, -the codfish <i>à la brandade</i> in my hand. It took a -mighty lot of coolness, I can tell you, not to let -everything drop.”</p> - -<p>“Rosalie is no longer at the Ministry,” said -Numa quite overwhelmed.</p> - -<p>“You astonish me; do you mean to say that it -has not been arranged?”</p> - -<p>And indeed it did not seem possible to him -that Madame Numa, a person of so much good -sense ... for after all, what was all this business -anyhow? “Come now, just a mere fancy!”</p> - -<p>The other interrupted him:</p> - -<p>“You don’t understand her—she is an implacable -woman—the perfect image of her father—Northern -race, my dear fellow—with them it -is not as it is with us, where the greatest anger -evaporates in gesticulations and threats and then -there is nothing left and we face about. But -they keep everything in mind; it is terrible.”</p> - -<p>He did not say that she had already forgiven -him once before; and then, in order to escape -from his sorrowful thoughts:</p> - -<p>“Get your clothes on; you must come and dine -with me.”</p> - -<p>While Bompard was making his toilet out in -the corridor the Minister looked about the mansard -room lit by a little window like a tobacco-box, -over which the melting snow was running. Pity -seized him face to face with this penury, these -damp rags, the whitewashed paper and little stove<span class="pagenum" id="Page_348">[348]</span> -worn with rust and fireless notwithstanding the -cold. And he asked himself, used as he was to -the sumptuousness of his palace, how people -could live in such a place?</p> - -<p>“Have you seen the <i>gardeen</i>?” cried Bompard -joyfully from his basin.</p> - -<p>His garden was the leafless tops of three plane-trees -which could not be seen unless one stood -upon the solitary chair in the room.</p> - -<p>“And my little museum?”</p> - -<p>His museum he called a few ticketed knick-knacks -upon a board, a brick, a short pipe in -brierwood, a rusty knife-blade and an ostrich -egg—but the brick came from the Alhambra, -the sword had been used in the vendettas of a -famous Corsican bandit, the short pipe bore an -inscription, “Pipe of a Morocco criminal,” and -finally the ostrich egg represented the vanishing -of a beautiful dream, all that remained—along -with a few laths and bits of plaster heaped in a -corner—of the famous Bompard Incubator and -the scheme for artificial hatching. But now, -my dear boy, there is something much better -on hand—a marvellous scheme—millions in -it—which he was not at liberty to explain at -present.</p> - -<p>“What is it you are looking at? That?—That -is my brevet of membership—<i>bé</i>, yes, -membership in the Aïoli.”</p> - -<p>This club of the Aïoli had for its purpose the -bringing together once a month of all the Southerners -living in Paris, in order to eat a dinner<span class="pagenum" id="Page_349">[349]</span> -cooked with garlic, a way of never losing either -the fragrance or the accent of home. It was a -tremendous organization—a President of Honor, -Presidents, Vice-Presidents, Seniors, Questors, -Treasurers, all furnished with their diplomas as -members brave with silver streamers, and the -flower of the leek as decoration upon rose-colored -paper. This precious document was displayed -on the wall alongside of advertisements of every -sort of color, sales of houses, railway placards and -so forth, which Bompard liked to have always -under his nose, in order, as he ingenuously remarked, -“to do his liver good.” There might -one read: “Château to sell, one hundred and -fifty hectares, meadows, hunting, river, pond full -of fish.... Lovely little property in Touraine, -vineyards, luzernes, mill-on-the-Cize.... Round -trip through Switzerland, through Italy, to Lago -Maggiore, to the Borromean Islands....” These -things excited him just as much as if he had -had fine landscapes in oil hanging on the wall. -He believed he was in these places—and he was -there!</p> - -<p>“By Jove!” said Roumestan with a shade of -envy of this wretched believer in chimeras, so -happy in his rags—“You have a tremendous -imagination. Come, are you ready? Let’s get -down. It is frightfully cold up here.”</p> - -<p>After a few turns through the brilliant streets -across the jolly mob of the boulevards the two -friends settled themselves down in the heady, -radiating warmth of a little room in a big restaurant,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_350">[350]</span> -in front of oysters and a bottle of Château-Yquem -very carefully uncorked.</p> - -<p>“To your health, my comrade—I pray that it -may be good and happy forever.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Té!</i> why it’s a fact,” said Bompard; “we -haven’t kissed each other yet.”</p> - -<p>Across the table they gave each other a hug -with moistened eyes and Roumestan felt himself -quite gay again, despite the wrinkled and swarthy -hide of the Circassian. Ever since morning he -had wanted to kiss somebody. Besides, think of -all the years they had known each other—thirty -years of their life in front of them on that tablecloth—and -through the vapor rising from delicate -dishes and over the straw wrappers of delicious -wines they recalled their days of youth, their fraternal -recollections, races and picnics, saw once -more their own boyish faces and interlarded their -effusions with words in dialect which brought them -still closer together.</p> - -<p>“<i>T’en souvénès, digo?</i>” (I say, do you remember?)</p> - -<p>In a room near by could be heard a noise of -high laughter and little screams.</p> - -<p>“To the devil with females,” said Roumestan; -“there is nothing worth while but friendship!”</p> - -<p>And then they drank to each other once more; -nevertheless their talk turned in another direction: -“And how about the little girl?” asked Bompard, -winking his eye. “How is she getting on?”</p> - -<p>“O, of course, I have not seen her again, you -know.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_351">[351]</span></p> - -<p>“Of course not, of course not,” said the other -turning suddenly very serious and putting on a -solemn face.</p> - -<p>Presently a piano behind the partition began -to play scraps of waltzes, fashionable quadrilles -and bars of music from operettas, now crazy and -now languid. They stopped talking in order to -listen, pulling off the withered grapes, and Numa, -all of whose sensations appeared to have two -faces and to be swung upon a pivot, began to -think about his wife and his child and his lost -happiness. So he must needs unbosom himself -at the top of his voice with his elbows on the -table.</p> - -<p>“Eleven years of intimacy, trust and tenderness—all -that flashed away and vanished in -a minute! how can it be possible? ah, Rosalie, -Rosalie—”</p> - -<p>No one could ever know what she had been to -him, and he himself had not thoroughly understood -it until after her departure. Such an upright -spirit, such a straightforward heart! And -what shoulders and what arms! No little gingerbread -doll like little Bachellery; something full -and amber-tinted and <span class="lock">delicate—</span></p> - -<p>“Besides, don’t you see, my dear comrade, -there’s no denying that when we are young we -need surprises and adventures—meetings in a -hurry, sharpened by the fear of being caught, -staircases one comes down on all fours with one’s -boots in one’s arms—all that is part of love. -But at our age what we desire above everything<span class="pagenum" id="Page_352">[352]</span> -else is peace and what the philosophers call -security in pleasure. It is only marriage which -can give you that.”</p> - -<p>He jumped up all of a sudden, threw down his -napkin: “Off with us, <i>té!</i>”</p> - -<p>“And we are going—?” asked the impassible -Bompard.</p> - -<p>“To walk by under her window just as I did -twelve years ago—to this, my dear boy, is he -reduced, the grand Master of the University—”</p> - -<p>Under the arcaded way of the Place Royale, -whose square garden covered with snow formed -a white quadrilateral within its iron fence, these -two friends walked up and down for a long while, -spying out in the broken sky-line formed by the -Louis XIII roofs, chimneys and balconies the -lofty windows of the Hôtel Le Quesnoy.</p> - -<p>“To think that she is over there,” sighed -Roumestan, “so near to me, and yet I may not -see her!”</p> - -<p>Bompard was shivering with his feet in the mud -and did not appreciate very greatly this sentimental -excursion; in order to bring it to a close -he used strategy, and knowing well that Numa was -a soft one, in deadly fear of the slightest illness:</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid you’ll catch cold, Numa,” insinuated -he like the traitor he was.</p> - -<p>The Southerner was struck with fear, and they -quickly returned to the carriage.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>She was there indeed, in that same drawing-room -where he had seen her for the first time.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_353">[353]</span> -The furniture was just the same and held the -same place, having reached that age when furniture, -like temperaments, cannot be renewed. -Scarcely were there a few more faded folds in the -fawn-colored hangings and a film over the dull -reflections from the mirrors like that one sees on -deserted ponds which nothing ever touches. The -faces of the two old people under the two-branched -candlesticks at the card-table in company -with their usual partners showed likewise a -little of the wear and tear of life. Madame Le -Quesnoy’s features were puffy and drooping as -if the fibre had been taken out of them, and the -President’s pallor was still more pallid and still -prouder was the revolt that he preserved in the -bitter blue of his eyes. Seated near a big arm-chair, -the cushions of which were still crushed -down by a light weight, her sister having gone to -bed, Rosalie continued in a low voice that reading -aloud which she had been giving a moment -before for the benefit of her sister, reading on -in a low voice through the silence of whist broken -by the half-words and interjections of the -players.</p> - -<p>It was a book belonging to her youth, one of -those poets of nature whom her father had taught -her to love. And she perceived the whole past of -her life as a young girl rising up from the pure -white of the stanzas as well as the fresh and penetrating -impression of the books one has read first -in life.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_354">[354]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"><i>La belle aurait pu sans souci</i></div> - <div class="verse indent0"><i>Manger ses fraises loin d’ici</i></div> - <div class="verse indent2"><i>Au bord d’une claire fontaine</i></div> - <div class="verse indent0"><i>Avec un joyeux moissonneur</i></div> - <div class="verse indent0"><i>Qui l’aurait prise sur son cœur,</i></div> - <div class="verse indent2"><i>Elle aurait eu bien moins de peine.</i></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">(In happy ease that damsel fair</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Her berries might have eaten where</div> - <div class="verse indent2">A fountain plashes o’er a stone;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Some harvester at noontide rest</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Had clasped her to his stalwart <span class="lock">breast—</span></div> - <div class="verse indent2">Ah! far less woe would she have known.)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The book slipped from her hands upon her -knees, the last two lines re-echoing their mournful -song to the very depths of her being, recalling to -her the wretchedness which for one moment she -had forgot. There lies the cruelty that poets -exercise; they lull and appease you, but then with -one word they envenom again the wound which -they were by way of healing.</p> - -<p>She saw herself as she was in that same place -twelve years before when Numa paid his addresses -to her with great big bouquets of roses; when, -clothed with her twenty years and the wish to be -beautiful for his sake, from that very window -she watched him coming, just as one watches one’s -own destiny. In every corner of the house there -remained echoes of his warm and tender voice, so -ready to lie. If one looked a moment among the -music scattered about the piano one would find -the duos which they sang together; everything -which surrounded her seemed accomplices of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_355">[355]</span> -disaster in her failure of a life. She thought of -what that life might have been by the side of -an honest man and loyal comrade, not brilliant -and ambitious, but enjoying a simple and hidden -existence in which they would have courageously -borne all bitternesses and all sorrow to the very -end of their days.</p> - -<p>“<i>Elle aurait eu bien moins de peine.</i>” (Ah, far -less woe would she have known.)</p> - -<p>She had plunged so deep into her dream that -when the whist party ended and her parents’ old -friends had left, almost without her remarking it, -answering mechanically the friendly and pitying -farewells that each one gave her, she failed to perceive -that the President, instead of conducting his -friends to the front door as had been his habit -every evening, no matter what the time or season, -was marching up and down the drawing-room. -At last he stopped before her and put a question -to her in a voice which caused her all of a sudden -to tremble:</p> - -<p>“Well, my child, where are you in this matter? -have you made up your mind?”</p> - -<p>“Why, dear father, I am exactly where I was -before.”</p> - -<p>He seated himself beside her, took her hand and -attempted to do the persuasive:</p> - -<p>“I have been to see your husband ... he consents -to everything ... you can live here with me -the entire time that your mother and sister shall -be away, and even afterwards if your anger against -him still continues. But I tell you again, this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_356">[356]</span> -suit for separation is impossible! I do hope that -you will not insist upon it.”</p> - -<p>Rosalie tossed her head.</p> - -<p>“My dear father, you do not understand that -man. He will employ all his cunning to surround -me and get me back again, make me his -dupe, a voluntary dupe, who has accepted an undignified -and degraded existence. Your daughter -is not a woman of that sort. I demand a -complete and irreparable rupture, openly announced -to all the world.”</p> - -<p>From the card-table where she sat ranging the -cards and markers Mme. Le Quesnoy, without -turning round, gently interposed:</p> - -<p>“Forgive, my child, forgive.”</p> - -<p>“O yes, that is easy to say when one has a -husband as upright and loyal as yours, when one -never has known the suffocating effect of lies and -treason, drawing their plots about one. He is a -hypocrite, I tell you. He has his Chambéry -morality and his morality of the Rue de Londres. -His words and his acts are never in accord—two -ways of speech, two faces—all the seductive and -catlike nature of his race—in a word, the man of -the South!”</p> - -<p>And then, losing her head as her anger exploded, -she said:</p> - -<p>“Besides, I had already forgiven him once. -Yes, two years after my marriage. I never told -you about it, I have never spoken to a single person. -I was very unhappy; and then we only -remained together because of an oath he made<span class="pagenum" id="Page_357">[357]</span> -me.—But he only lives on perjuries! And now -it is completely at an end, completely at an -end!”</p> - -<p>The President did not insist further, but slowly -rose and went over to his wife. There was a -whispering together and something like a debate, -surprising enough between that authoritative man -and this humble, annihilated creature: “You -must tell her.... Yes, yes, I want you to tell -her....” Without adding another word M. Le -Quesnoy left the room and his sonorous regular -step, his step of every evening, could be heard -mounting the solitary vaulted stairs, through all -the solemn spaces of the grand drawing-room.</p> - -<p>“Come here,” said her mother to the daughter -with a tender gesture, “nearer to me, still nearer.”</p> - -<p>She would never dare to tell her aloud; and -even when they were so close and heart was beating -against heart, she still hesitated:</p> - -<p>“Listen, dear; it is he who demands it—he -wants me to tell you that your destiny is the destiny -of all women, and that even your mother has -not escaped it.”</p> - -<p>Rosalie was overwhelmed with that secret confided -to her which she had divined in a flash at the -first words of her mother, whilst her old and very -dear voice broken with tears could hardly articulate -the very sorrowful, very sorrowful story, similar -in every way to her own—the crime of her husband -from the earliest years of their housekeeping, -just as if the motto of these wretched coupled beings -must be “Deceive me or else I deceive thee!”—the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_358">[358]</span> -man hastening to begin the evil in order to -maintain his superior rank.</p> - -<p>“Enough, enough, Mamma. Oh, how you are -hurting me!”</p> - -<p>This father whom she so admired, whom she -placed far above any other man, this sterlingly -honest and firm magistrate! But what kind of -creatures were men, anyhow? At the North and -down South, all were alike, traitors and perjurers. -She who had not wept a tear because of the -treason of her husband now felt herself invaded by -a flood of hot tears because of this humiliation of -her father.... And so they were counting upon -this, were they? to make her yield! No, a -hundred times no; she would never forgive. Ha, -ha! so that was marriage, was it? Very well; dishonor -and disdain upon marriage then! What -cared she for fear of scandal and the proprieties of -the world, since it was a rivalry as to who should -treat them with the most contempt?</p> - -<p>Her mother, taking her in her arms and pressing -her against her heart, endeavored to soften the revolt -of this young conscience wounded in all its -beliefs, in its dearest superstitions; she caressed -her gently as if she were rocking a child:</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, you will forgive. You will do as -I did—you see it is our destiny. Ah, I also -had a terrible bitterness in me during the first -moments and a great longing to throw myself out -of the window. But I thought of my child, my -poor little Andrew who was just coming to life, -who since then grew up and died, loving and respecting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_359">[359]</span> -all his family. So you too will pardon in -order that your child shall have the same happy -tranquillity which my own courage secured to you, -so that he shall not be one of those half-orphans -whom parents share between them, whom they -bring up in hatred and disdain to one and the -other. You will also remember that your father -and mother have already suffered tremendously -and that other bitter sorrows are menacing them -now—”</p> - -<p>She stopped short, suffocated by feeling, and -then in a solemn accent:</p> - -<p>“My daughter, all sorrows become softened and -all wounds are capable of being cured. There -is only one sorrow which is irreparable and that is -the death of the person we love.”</p> - -<p>In the failure of her agitated forces that followed -these last words Rosalie felt the figure of her -mother grow in grandeur by as much as her father -had lost greatness in her eyes. She even reproached -herself for having so long misunderstood -the sublime and resigned self-abnegation concealed -beneath that apparent feebleness which was -the result of bitter blows. Thus it came about -that for her mother’s sake, for her mother’s sake -alone, she renounced the lawsuit in revenge of her -outraged rights, and renounced it in gentle words, -almost as if asking pardon: “Only do not insist -that I go back to him—I should be too ashamed. -I will accompany my sister to the South. Afterwards, -later, we shall see.”</p> - -<p>The President came back again, and when he saw<span class="pagenum" id="Page_360">[360]</span> -the enthusiasm with which the old mother was -throwing her arms about the neck of her child he -understood that their cause was won.</p> - -<p>“Thank you, my daughter,” he murmured, very -much touched. Then after a little hesitation he -approached Rosalie for the usual kiss of good-night. -But the brow which ordinarily was so tenderly -offered moved aside and his kiss lost itself in -her hair.</p> - -<p>“Good-night, father.”</p> - -<p>He said nothing in return, but went away hanging -his head with a convulsive shudder in his high -shoulders. He who during his life had accused so -many people, had condemned so many—he, the -First Magistrate of France, had found a judge in -his turn.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_361">[361]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.<br> - -<span class="smaller">HORTENSE LE QUESNOY.</span></h2> -</div> - - - -<p class="chapfirst">Through one of those sudden shiftings of the -scenery which are so frequent in the comedy of -Parliamentary government, the meeting of January -8th, during which it was to be expected that the -good luck of Roumestan would go all to pieces, -procured for him on the contrary a striking success. -When he marched up the steps of the platform in -order to answer the cruel sarcasms that Rougeot -had been getting off concerning the management of -the opera, the mess that the department of the -fine arts had got into, the emptiness of those reforms -which had been trumpeted abroad by the -supporters of the clerical Ministry, Numa had just -learned that his wife had left Paris, having renounced -her lawsuit.</p> - -<p>This happy news, which was known to him alone, -filled his answer with a confidence that radiated -from his whole being. He took a haughty air, -then a confidential, then a solemn one; he alluded -to calumnies which are whispered in people’s ears -and to some scandal that was expected:</p> - -<p>“Gentlemen, there will be no scandal!”</p> - -<p>The tone with which he said this threw a lively -disappointment over the galleries crammed with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_362">[362]</span> -all the sensation-loving, pretty women, mad for -strong emotions, who had come there in charming -costumes to see the conqueror devoured. The interpellation -by Rougeot was torn to bits, the South -seduced once more the North, Gaul for yet another -time was conquered!—and when Roumestan ran -down the steps again, worn out, perspiring and -almost without voice, he had the proud satisfaction -of seeing his party—but a moment ago so cold -and even hostile—and his colleagues in the Cabinet, -who had been accusing him of having compromised -them, surround him with acclamations -and enthusiastic flatteries. And in the intoxication -of his success the relinquishment of her vengeance -on the part of his wife kept returning to him -always in the light of a supreme salvation.</p> - -<p>He felt himself relieved and gay and expansive, -so much so that on returning to the city the -thought passed through his mind to run around to -the Rue de Londres. O, of course, entirely as a -friend! in order to reassure that poor little girl who -had been as anxious as he over the results of the -interpellation, who bore their common exile with -so much bravery, sending him in her unformed -writing, dryed with face-powder, delightful little -letters in which she related her existence day by -day and exhorted him to patience and prudence.</p> - -<p>“No, no; do not come here, poor darling—write -to me and think of me—I shall be brave.”</p> - -<p>It happened that the Opera was not open that -evening, and during the short passage from the -station to the little house in the Rue de Londres<span class="pagenum" id="Page_363">[363]</span> -Numa was thinking, while he clutched in his hand -that little key which had been a temptation to him -more than once for the last fortnight:</p> - -<p>“How happy she is going to be!”</p> - -<p>Having opened the door and shut it noiselessly, -he suddenly found himself in deep obscurity, for -the gas had not been lit. This neglect gave to the -little house an appearance of mourning and widowhood -which flattered him. The thick carpet on -the stair softening his tread as he ran up, he -reached without being in any way announced the -drawing-room hung with Japanese stuffs of the -most deliciously false shades just suited to the artificial -gold in the tresses of the little girl.</p> - -<p>“Who is there?” asked a pretty voice but an -angry one from the divan.</p> - -<p>“It is I, by Jove!—”</p> - -<p>He heard a cry and a sudden springing up, and -in the uncertain light of the evening by the white -light of her skirts, the little singing girl stood up -straight in the greatest fright, whilst handsome -Lappara in a crushed but motionless position -stood there looking hard at the flowers in the -carpet to avoid the eyes of his master. There was -no denying the situation.</p> - -<p>“Gutter-snipes!” roared Roumestan hoarsely, -seized by one of those suffocating rages during -which the beast growls inside the man with a -desire to tear in pieces and to bite far more than to -strike.</p> - -<p>Without knowing how it was he found himself -outside the house, hurried away by fear of his own<span class="pagenum" id="Page_364">[364]</span> -frightful wrath. In that very place and at that -very hour some days before, his wife, just like himself, -had received the blow of treachery, the vulgar -and the outrageous wound, but a far more cruel -and utterly unmerited one. But he never thought -of that for a moment, filled as he was with indignation -at the personal injury. No, never had such a -villainy been seen beneath the sun! This Lappara -whom he loved like a child! This scoundrel of a -girl for whose sake he had gone the length of compromising -his entire political fortune!</p> - -<p>“Gutter-snipes!—gutter-snipes!” he repeated -aloud in the empty street as he hurried through a -fine, penetrating rain, which in fact calmed him far -better than the finest logic.</p> - -<p>“<i>Té!</i> why, I am all wet—”</p> - -<p>He hurried to the cab-stand on the Rue d’Amsterdam, -and in the crowd which collects in that place -owing to the constant arrival of trains at the station -he came up against the hard and tightly buttoned -uniform of General the Marquis d’Espaillon.</p> - -<p>“Bravo, my dear colleague! I was not in the -Chamber; but they tell me that you charged the -enemy like a —— and routed him, horse and foot.”</p> - -<p>As he stood as straight as a lath under his -umbrella, the old fellow had a devilish lively eye -and moustaches gallantly twisted to the correct -angle for the evening of a lucky love adventure.</p> - -<p>“G— d— m— s—!” he went on, leaning over -toward Numa’s ear with a tone of confidence in -gallantry, “you at least can boast of understanding -women, by Jove!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_365">[365]</span></p> - -<p>And as the other looked at him sharply, supposing -that he was speaking sarcastically:</p> - -<p>“Why yes, don’t you remember our discussion -about love? You were perfectly right. It is not only -the fops and dudes that please the women—I’ve got -one now on the string. Never swallowed a better -than this one—G— d— m— s—, not even when I -was twenty-five and had just left the Academy.”</p> - -<p>Roumestan listened to him with his hand on the -door of his cab and thought that he was smiling at -the old lovesick fool, but what he produced was -nothing more than a horrible grimace. His -theories about women were just then so extraordinarily -upset.—Glory? genius? O, come now! -Those are not the things that make them care for -you. He felt himself outwitted and disgusted, -and had a desire to weep and then a longing to -sleep in order not to think any more, especially -not to recall further the frightened laugh of that -little rascally girl standing straight before him with -her waist in disorder and all her neck red and -trembling from the interrupted kisses.</p> - -<p>But in the agitated course of our life, hours and -events link themselves together and follow each -other like waves. In place of the nice rest which -he hoped to obtain on returning home a new blow -was awaiting him at the Ministry, a telegraphic -despatch which Méjean had opened in his absence -and now handed him, deeply moved:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Hortense dying. She wishes to see you. Come -quickly.</p> - -<div class="sig"> -<span class="smcap">Widow Portal.</span> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_366">[366]</span></p> - -<p>The whole of his frightful egotism broke from -him with the dismayed exclamation:</p> - -<p>“Oh, what devoted fidelity am I losing in -her!”</p> - -<p>Then he thought of his wife who was present at -that death-bed and had allowed Aunt Portal to -send the despatch. Her wrath had not yielded -and probably never would give way. Nevertheless, -if she had been willing, how thoroughly would -he not have recommenced life at her side, giving up -all his imprudent follies and becoming a straightforward -and almost austere family man! And -then, never giving a thought to the harm that he -had done, he reproached Rosalie for her hardness -of heart, as if she were treating him unjustly.</p> - -<p>He passed the night correcting the proofs of his -speech and interrupting work every now and then -to write bits of letters to that little scoundrel of an -Alice Bachellery, letters either raging or sarcastic, -scolding or abusive. Méjean was also up all night -in the Secretary’s office; overwhelmed with bitter -sorrow, he tried to find forgetfulness in unremitting -toil, and Numa, who was pleased with his -company, experienced a veritable pain because he -could not pour out to him in confidence the deception -he had met with. But then he would -have been forced to acknowledge that he had -gone back to her and stand the ridicule of the -situation.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, he was not able to hold out, and -in the morning whilst his chief of cabinet was accompanying -him to the station he committed to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_367">[367]</span> -him amongst other orders the charge of giving -Lappara his walking-papers. “O, he is expecting -it, you may be sure! I caught him in the -very act of committing the blackest piece of ingratitude.—And -when I think how kind I have -been to him, to the point of intending to make -him—” he stopped short; would it be believed -that he was on the point of telling the man in -love with Hortense that he had promised the -girl’s hand to another person? Without going -further into details, he declared that he did not -wish to find on his return such a wretchedly -immoral person at the Ministry. But on general -principles he was heart-broken at the duplicity of -the world—all was ingratitude and egotism. It -was so bad, he would like to toss them into the -street, all his honors and business matters, in order -to quit Paris and become the keeper of a lighthouse -on a horrible crag in the midst of the -ocean.</p> - -<p>“You have slept badly, my dear Master,” said -Méjean with his tranquil air.</p> - -<p>“No, no, it is exactly as I tell you—Paris -makes me sick at my stomach....”</p> - -<p>Standing on the platform near the cars, he -turned about with a gesture of supreme disgust -aimed at that great city into which the provinces -pour all their ambitions and concupiscences, all -their boiling and sordid overflow—and then -accuse it of degeneracy and moral taint. He interrupted -his tirade and then, with a bitter laugh, -pointing to a wall:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_368">[368]</span></p> - -<p>“How he does dog me everywhere, that fellow -over there!”</p> - -<p>On a vast gray wall pierced with hideous little -windows at the angle of the Rue de Lyon, there -was the picture of a wretched troubadour. -Washed out by all the moisture of the winter and -the filth from a barrack of poor people, the advertisement -showed on the second story a frightful -mess of blue, yellow and green through which -one could still see the pretentious and victorious -gesture of the tabor-player. In Parisian advertisements -placards succeed each other quickly, -one concealing the other; but when they are of -enormous dimensions, some bit or end will stick -out; wherefore it happened that in every corner -of Paris during the last fortnight the Minister had -found before his eyes either a leg or an arm, or a -bit of the Provençal cap, or an end of the laced -peasant’s boots of Valmajour. These remnants -threatened him even as in that Provençal legend -the victim of a murder with his various limbs -hacked and separated cries out against his murderer -from all the separate bits of his body. But -in this case he was there entire, and the horrible -coloring seen through the chill morning air, -forced as it was to receive unflinchingly all kinds -of filth before it dropped away and disappeared -under a final rush of wind, represented very well -the destiny of the unfortunate troubadour, driven -forever from pillar to post through the slums of -that Paris which he could no longer quit, and -conducting the <i>farandole</i> for a mob recruited from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_369">[369]</span> -the unclassed and exiled ones and the fools, those -persons thirsting for notoriety whose end is the -hospital, the dissection table and the potter’s field.</p> - -<p>Roumestan got into his coach frozen to the very -bone by that morning apparition and by the cold -of his sleepless night, shivering at sight through -the car windows of those mournful vistas in the -suburbs, those iron bridges across streets that shone -with rain, those tall houses, barracks of wretchedness -whose numberless windows were stuffed with -rags, and then those early morning figures, hollow -cheeked, sorrowful and sordid, those rounded backs -and arms clutching breasts in order to conceal -something or warm themselves, those taverns with -signs in endless variety and the thick forest of -factory chimneys vomiting smoke that falls at once -to earth. After that came the first gardens of the -outer suburb, black of soil, the coarse mortar in -the low farm buildings, villas closely shuttered in -the midst of their little gardens reduced by the -winter to copses as dry as the bare wood of the -kiosks and arbors, and then, farther on, the country -roads broken up by puddles, where one saw -files of overflowing tanks—a horizon the color -of rust, and flights of crows over the deserted -fields.</p> - -<p>He closed his eyes to keep out this sorrowful -Northern winter through which the whistle of the -locomotive passed with long wails of distress, but -his own thoughts under his lowered eyelids were -in no respect happier. So near again to that fool -of a girl—for the bond that held him to her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_370">[370]</span> -still contracted his heart though it had broken!—he -pondered over all the different things he had -done for her and what the support of an operatic -star had cost him for the last six months. -In that life of the boards everything is false, but -especially success, which is only worth as much as -one buys. The demands of the claque, cost of -tickets at the office, of dinners, receptions, presents -to reporters, publicity in all its varying forms, -all these have their price; then the magnificent -bouquets at sight of which the singer grows red -and shows emotion, gathering them up against -her arms and nude neck and the shining satin of her -gown; and then the ovations prepared beforehand -for the provincial tour, enthusiastic processions to -the hotel, serenades to the diva’s balcony and all -the other things calculated to dispel the gloomy -indifference of the public—ah, all these must not -only be paid for but paid high!</p> - -<p>For six months he had gone along with open -pocketbook, never begrudging the triumphs arranged -for the little girl. He was present at negotiations -with the chief of the claque and the -advertising agents of the newspapers, as well as -the flower-woman whose bouquets the diva and -her mother worked off on him three times without -his knowledge merely by decking them out with -fresh ribbons; for these Bordeaux Jewesses were -possessed of a vulgar rapacity and a love of trickery -and expedients which caused them at times to -remain at home for entire days, clad in rags, old -jackets over flowing skirts, with their feet in ancient<span class="pagenum" id="Page_371">[371]</span> -ball slippers. In fact it was thus that Numa found -them oftenest, passing their time playing cards -and reviling each other as if they were in a van of -acrobats at a fair. For a good many months past -they had no longer put on any restraint in his -presence. He knew all the tricks and grimaces of -the diva and the coarseness natural to an affected -and unneat woman of the South: also that she -was ten years older than her age on the boards -and that in order to fix upon her face that eternal -smile in a Cupid’s bow she went to sleep each -night with her lips pulled up at the corners and -streaked with coral lip-paint.</p> - -<p>At this point at last he himself fell asleep—but -I can assure you that his mouth was not like a -Cupid’s bow; on the contrary his every feature -was haggard from disgust and fatigue, while his -entire body was shaken by the bumps and swayings -to and fro and by the shocks of the express -train whirled under full steam over the metals.</p> - -<p>“<i>Valeïnce!—Valeïnce!</i>”</p> - -<p>He opened his eyes like a child called by his -mother. The South had already begun to appear; -between the clouds, which the wind was -driving apart, deep blue abysses were dug, and -there was the sky! A ray of sunlight warmed -the car window and among the roadside pines -one saw the grayness of a few thin olive-trees. -This produced a feeling of rest throughout the -sensitive nature of the Southerner and a complete -polar change of ideas. He was sorry that he had -been so harsh to Lappara. Think of having destroyed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_372">[372]</span> -the future of that poor boy and plunged a -whole family in grief—and for what? A “<i>foutaise, -allons!</i>” as Bompard said. There was only one -way of repairing it and correcting its look of dismissal -from the Ministry, and that was the Cross -of the Legion of Honor. And the Minister began -to laugh at the idea of Lappara’s name appearing -in the <i>Officiel</i> with this addition, “Exceptional -services.” But after all it was an exceptional service -to have delivered his chief from that degrading -connection.</p> - -<p>Orange!... Montelimar and its nougat!... -Voices were already full of vibration and words -reinforced by lively gestures. Waiters from the -restaurant, paper sellers and station guards rushed -upon the train with their eyes sticking out of their -heads. Certainly this was quite a different people -from that which one met thirty leagues farther -North, and the Rhône, the broad Rhône, with its -waves like a sea, glistened under the sunshine that -turned to gold the crenelated ramparts of Avignon, -whose bells—which have never stopped -ringing since the days of Rabelais—saluted the -big political man of Provence with their clear-cut -chimes. Numa took possession of a seat at -the buffet in front of a little white roll, a pasty -and a bottle of the well known wine from the -Nerte that had ripened between the rocks and -was capable of inoculating even a Parisian with the -accent of dwellers among the scrub-oak barrens.</p> - -<p>But his natal atmosphere rejoiced his heart the -most—when he was able to leave the main line at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_373">[373]</span> -Tarascon and take a seat in a coach on the small -patriarchal railway with a single track which -pushes its way into the heart of Provence between -the branches of mulberries and olive-trees, while -tufts of wild rose scrape against the side doors. -People were singing in the coaches; at every -moment the train stopped in order to allow a -flock of sheep to pass or to pick up a belated -traveller or to ship some parcel which a boy from -a <i>mas</i> brought up at a full run. And then what -salutations and nice little bits of gossip between -the train hands and the peasant women in their -Arles head-dresses standing at their doors or -washing clothes on the stone near the well! At -the station what cries and hustlings—an entire -village turning out to conduct to the cars some -conscript or some girl who was off to the town -for service.</p> - -<p>“<i>Té! vé!</i> not good-bye, dear lass, ... but be -very good, <i>au moins!</i>”</p> - -<p>Then they weep and embrace each other without -taking any notice of the hermit in his cowl asking -alms as he leans against the station fence and -mumbles his pater-noster; then, enraged at receiving -nothing, turns to go as he throws his sack upon -his back.</p> - -<p>“Well, there’s another <i>pater</i> gone to pot!”</p> - -<p>That phrase catches and is understood, all tears -are dried and the whole company roars with -laughter, the begging monk harder than the rest.</p> - -<p>Hidden away in his coach in order to escape -ovations, Roumestan enjoyed immensely all this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_374">[374]</span> -jollity, pleased with the sight of these countenances -all brown and hooked-nosed and alive with emotion -and sarcasm, these big fellows with their -smart air, these <i>chatos</i> as amber-colored as the long -berries of the muscat grape, who as they grow -older will turn into these crones, black and -dried by the sun, who seem to scatter a dust as -from the tomb every time they make one of their -habitual gestures. So <i>zou</i> then! and <i>allons!</i> and -all the <i>en avants</i> in the world! Here he found -once more his own people, his changeable and -nervous Provence, that race of brown crickets -always at the door and always singing!</p> - -<p>But he himself was certainly a type of them, -already recovered from his terrible despair of that -morning, from his disgust and his love—all swept -away at the first puff of the mistral which was -growling in a lively fashion through the valley of the -Rhône. It met the train midway, retarding its advance -and driving everything before it, the trees -bent over in an attitude of flight as well as the far-away -Alpilles, the sun shaken by the sudden -eclipses, whilst in the distance under a rapid gleam -of sunshine the town of Aps grouped its monuments -about the ancient tower of the Antonines, -just as a herd of cattle huddles on the wide plain -of the Camargue about the oldest bull in order to -break the force of the wind.</p> - -<p>So it was that Numa made his entrance into the -station to the sound of that magnificent trumpeting -of the mistral.</p> - -<p>The family had kept his arrival secret through a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_375">[375]</span> -feeling of delicacy like his own, in order to avoid -the Orpheons and banners and solemn deputations. -Aunt Portal alone awaited him, majestically installed -in the arm-chair belonging to the keeper -of the station, with a warmer under her feet. As -soon as she perceived her nephew the big rosy face -of the stout lady, which had expanded in her -reposeful position, took on a despairing expression -and swelled up under the white lace cap, and -stretching out her arms she burst into sobs and -lamentations:</p> - -<p>“<i>Aie de nous</i>, what a misfortune!... Such a -pretty little thing, <i>péchère!</i>... and so good!... and -so gentle!... you would take your bread -from your mouth for her sake....”</p> - -<p>“Great Heavens, is it all over?” thought Roumestan -as he reverted quickly to the real purpose -of his journey.</p> - -<p>His aunt suddenly interrupted her vociferations -and said coldly and in a hard tone to the servant -who had forgotten the foot-warmer:</p> - -<p>“Ménicle, the <i>banquette!</i>” then she took up -again on the pitch of a frenzy of grief the story of -the virtues of Mlle. Le Quesnoy, calling with loud -cries upon heaven and its angels to know why -they had not taken her in place of that child and -shaking Numa’s arm with her explosions of sorrow; -for she was leaning on him in order to reach her -old coach at the slow gait of a funeral procession.</p> - -<p>The horses advanced slowly under the leafless -trees of the Avenue Berchère in a whirlwind of -branches and dry bits of bark which the mistral<span class="pagenum" id="Page_376">[376]</span> -was scattering as a poor sort of welcome before the -illustrious traveller. At the end of the road -where the porters had formed the habit of taking -the horses out Ménicle was obliged to crack his -whip many times, so surprised at this indifference -for the great man did the horses seem to be. As -for Roumestan, he was only thinking of the horrible -news which he had just learned, and holding the -two doll hands of his aunt, who kept constantly -drying her eyes, he gently asked: “When did it -happen?”</p> - -<p>“What happen?”</p> - -<p>“When did she die, the poor little dear?”</p> - -<p>Aunt Portal bounced up on her thick cushions:</p> - -<p>“Die?—<i>Bou Diou!</i>—who ever told you that -she was dead?”</p> - -<p>Then she added at once with a deep sigh:</p> - -<p>“Only, <i>péchère</i>, she will not be here for long.”</p> - -<p>Ah, no, not for very long, for now she no longer -got up, never leaving the lace-covered pillows, on -which from day to day her little thin head became -less and less recognizable, painted as it was on the -cheek-bones with a burning red cosmetic, whilst -the eyes and nostrils were outlined in blue. With -her ivory-white hands lying on the linen of the bed-clothes -and a little hand-glass and comb near her -to arrange from time to time her beautiful brown -hair, she lay for hours without a word because -of the wretched roughness that had invaded her -voice, her look lost off there on the tips of the -trees and in the brilliant sky over the old garden -of the Portal mansion.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_377">[377]</span></p> - -<p>That evening her dreamy immobility lasted so -long while the flames of the setting sun reddened -all the chamber that her sister grew anxious:</p> - -<p>“Are you asleep?”</p> - -<p>Hortense shook her head as if she wished to -drive something away:</p> - -<p>“No, I was not asleep, and yet I was dreaming—I -was dreaming that I am going to die. I was -just on the borders of this world and leaning -over into the other. Yes, leaning over enough to -fall. I could see you still and some parts of my -room, but all the same I was quite over on the other -side, and what struck me most was the silence of -this life in comparison with the tremendous sound -that the dead were making. A sound of a beehive, -of flapping wings and the low rustling of an -ant-heap—the murmur which the sea leaves in -the heart of its shells. It was just as if the realms -of death were far more thickly peopled and encumbered -than life. And all this noise was so intense -that it seemed to me my ears heard for the first time -and that I had discovered in me a new sense.”</p> - -<p>She talked slowly in her rough and hissing -voice. After a silence she employed whatever -there was left in the way of strength in that broken -and wretched instrument:</p> - -<p>“O! my head is always on the journey.—First -prize for imagination—Hortense Le Quesnoy of -Paris.” A sob was heard which was drowned in -the noise of a shutting door.</p> - -<p>“You see,” said Rosalie, “Mamma had to leave -the room. You hurt her feelings so.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_378">[378]</span></p> - -<p>“On purpose—every day a little—so that -she shall have less to suffer at the last,” answered -the young girl in a whisper. The mistral was -galloping through the big corridors of the old -Provençal mansion, groaning under the doorways -and shaking them with furious blows. Hortense -smiled.</p> - -<p>“Do you hear that? O, I love that, it makes -me feel as if I were far away—off in the country. -Poor darling,” added she, taking her sister’s hand -and carrying it with a weary gesture as far as -her mouth, “what a mean trick I have played -you without intending to—here is your little one -coming who’ll be a Southerner all through my -fault—and you will never forgive me for it, <i>Franciote!</i>” -Through the clamor of the wind the whistle -of a locomotive reached her and made her shiver.</p> - -<p>“Ah, ha, the seven o’clock train!”</p> - -<p>Like all sick people and prisoners, she knew -what the slightest sounds about her meant and -mingled them with her motionless existence, just -as she did the horizon before her, the grove of -pines and the old weather-beaten Roman tower on -the slope. From that moment on she became anxious -and agitated, watching the door at which at -last a servant appeared.</p> - -<p>“That’s right,” said Hortense, in a lively way, -and smiling at her big sister: “Just a minute, will -you?—I will call you again.”</p> - -<p>Rosalie thought it was a visit from the priest -bringing his parochial Latin and his terrifying consolations, -so she went down into the garden, which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_379">[379]</span> -was a truly Southern enclosure without any flowers, -but with alleys of box sheltered by high cypresses -that withstood the wind. Ever since she had been -sick-nurse she had gone thither to get a breath of -air and to conceal her tears and to slacken a little -all the nervous contractions of her sorrow. Oh, -how well she understood that speech made by her -mother:</p> - -<p>“There is no sorrow which is irreparable but -one, and that is the loss of the person we love.”</p> - -<p>Her other sorrow, her happiness as a woman -all destroyed, was quite in the background; she -thought of nothing except that horrible and inevitable -thing which was approaching day by day. -Was it the evening hour, that red and deepening sun -which left all the garden in shadow and yet lingered -on the panes of the house, or that mournful wind -blowing high up which she could hear without -feeling it? At that moment she felt a melancholy, -an anguish which could not be expressed in words. -Hortense! her Hortense! more than a sister for -her, almost a daughter ... she had in Hortense the -first happiness of a premature mother’s love.</p> - -<p>Sobs oppressed her, sobs without tears; she -would have liked to cry aloud and call for help, but -on whom? The sky, toward which the despairing -raise their eyes, was so high, so far, so cold; it was -as if polished off by the hurricane. Through that -sky a flight of migrating birds was hurrying, but -neither their cries nor their wings which made -as much noise as flapping sails could be heard -below. How then could a single voice from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_380">[380]</span> -earth reach and attain those silent and indifferent -abysses?</p> - -<p>Nevertheless she made a trial and with her face -turned toward the light which moved ever upward -and was passing from the roof of the old house, -she made her prayer to Him who has thought fit to -conceal Himself and protect Himself from our -sorrows and lamentations—Him whom some adore -confidentially with their brows against the earth, -but others forlornly search for with their arms -wide apart, while others finally threaten Him with -their fists and revolt against Him, denying Him in -order to be able to forgive His cruelties.</p> - -<p>And denial of this sort, blasphemy of this kind—that -also is prayer.</p> - -<p>She was called to the house and ran in trembling -with fear because she had reached that nervous -terror when the slightest noise re-echoes from the -very depth of one’s being. The sick girl drew her -near to her bed with her smile, for she had neither -strength nor voice, as if she had just been talking -a long time.</p> - -<p>“I have a favor to ask of you, my darling—you -know what I mean, that final favor which people -grant to one who is condemned to die—forgive -your husband! He has been very wicked and -unworthy of you, but be indulgent and return to -his side. Do this for me, dear sister, and for our -parents, whom your separation grieves to death -and who will soon need greatly that all should close -round about them and surround them with tender -care. Numa is so lively, there is no one like him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_381">[381]</span> -for putting a little spirit into them.... It is all -over, is it not? You forgive?”</p> - -<p>Rosalie answered, “Yes, I give you my promise.”</p> - -<p>Of what value was this sacrifice of her pride beside -this irreparable disaster? Standing straight -beside the bed she closed her eyes a moment, -keeping back her tears—a hand which trembled -rested upon hers. There he was in front of her, -trembling, wretched and overwhelmed by an effusion -of heart which he dared not show.</p> - -<p>“Kiss each other,” said Hortense.</p> - -<p>Rosalie bent her brow forward and Numa kissed -it timidly. “No, no, not that way—both arms, -the way one does when one really loves.”</p> - -<p>Numa seized his wife and clasped her with one -long sob, whilst the twilight fell in the great chamber -as an act of pity for the girl who had thrown -them one upon the other’s heart.</p> - -<p>This was her last manifestation of life. From -that moment she remained absorbed, indifferent -and unaware of what passed about her, never -answering those disconsolate appeals of farewell to -which there is no answer, but still keeping upon -her young face that expression of haughty underlying -anger which those show who die too early -for the ardor of the life that is in them—those to -whom the disillusions of existence have not had -time to speak their last word.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_382">[382]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.<br> - -<span class="smaller">THE BAPTISM.</span></h2> -</div> - - - -<p class="chapfirst">The important day at Aps is Monday because it is -market day.</p> - -<p>Long before daylight the roads that lead to the -city, the great solitary turnpikes from Arles and -Avignon, where the white dust lies as quiet as a -fall of snow, are enlivened by the slow grinding -noise of the carts and the squawking of chickens in -their osier crates and the barking of dogs running -alongside; or by that rustling sound of a shower -which the passage of a flock of sheep produces, -accompanied by the long blouse of the shepherd -which one perceives as he is carried along by the -bounding wave of his beasts. Then there are cries -of the cow-boys panting in the rear of their cattle -and the dull sound of sticks falling upon humpy -backs and outlines of horsemen armed with cowpunches -in trident form. Slowly and gropingly -all these phantoms are swallowed up by the dark -gateways whose crenelations are seen in festoons -against the starry sky; thence it spreads wide -again into the <i>corso</i> which surrounds the sleepy -city.</p> - -<p>At that hour the town takes on itself again its -character of an old Roman and Saracen city, with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_383">[383]</span> -its irregular roofs and pointed moucharabies above -the broken and dangerous stairways. This confused -murmur of men and sleepy beasts penetrates -with but little noise between the silvery trunks of -the big plane-trees, overflows upon the avenue and -even into the courtyards of the houses and stirs -up warm odors of litters and fragrances of herbs -and ripe fruit. When it wakes, therefore, the town -discovers that it has been captured in every quarter -by an enormous, lively and noisy market, just as if -the entire agricultural part of Provence, men and -beasts, fruits and seeds, had roused up and come -together in one great nocturnal inundation.</p> - -<p>In truth it is a magnificent sight, a pouring forth -of rustic wealth that changes with the seasons. In -certain places set apart by immemorial usage the -oranges and pomegranates, golden colored quinces, -sorbs, green and yellow melons, are piled up near -the booths in rows and in heaps by the thousand; -peaches, figs and grapes destroy themselves by -their own weight in their baskets of transportation -side by side with vegetables in sacks. Sheep and -silky pigs and little <i>cabris</i> (kids) show airs of -weariness within the palisades of their small reservations. -Oxen fastened to the yoke stride along -before the buyer, while bulls with smoking nostrils -drag at the iron ring which holds them to the wall. -And farther on, quantities of horses, the little -horses from the Camargue—dwarf Arabs—prance -about mingling their brown, white or russet manes; -upon being called by name, “<i>Té!</i> Lucifer—<i>Té!</i> -l’Esterel—” they run up to eat oats from the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_384">[384]</span> -hands of their keepers, veritable Gauchos of the -pampas with boots above the knee. Then come -the poultry two by two, red and fastened by the -legs, guinea fowl and chickens lying, not without -much banging of the earth with their wings, at the -feet of their mistresses who are drawn up in a line. -Then there is the fish market, with eels alive on -fennel and trout from the Sorgue and the Durance, -mixing their shining scales in rainbow agonies with -all the rest of the color. And last of all, at the very -end, in a sort of dry winter forest are the wooden -spades and hay-forks and rakes, new and very -white, which rise between the plows and harrows.</p> - -<p>On the other side of the <i>corso</i> against the rampart -the unhitched wagons stand in line, with -their canopies and linen covers and high curtains -and dusty wheels, and all through the space left -vacant the noisy crowd circulates with difficulty, -with calls and discussions and chattering in all -kinds of dialects and accents—the Provençal -accent, which is refined and full of airs and graces -and requires certain movements of the head and -shoulder and a bold sort of mimicry, while that -of Languedoc is harder and heavier and almost -Spanish in its articulation. From time to time -this mass of felt hats and head-dresses from Arles -or the Comté, this difficult circulation of a mob of -buyers and sellers, splits in two at the cries from -some lagging cart which comes slowly forward -with great difficulty at a snail’s pace.</p> - -<p>The burgesses of the city hardly appear, so full -of scorn are they at this invasion from the country,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_385">[385]</span> -which nevertheless is the occasion of its -originality and the source of its wealth. From -morning to night the peasants are walking through -the streets, stopping at the booths, at the harness-makers, -shoemakers and watchmakers, staring -at the metal figures of the clock on the City Hall -and into the shop windows, dazzled by the gilding -and mirrors of the restaurants, just as the rustics -in Theocritus stood and stared at the Palace of the -Ptolemies. Some issue from the drug shops laden -with parcels and big bottles; others, and they -form a wedding procession, enter the jeweller’s to -choose, after long and cunning bargains, ear-rings -with long pendent pieces and the necklace for the -coming bride. And these coarse gowns, these -brown and wild-looking faces and their eager, -businesslike manner make one think of some town -in La Vendée taken by the Chouans at the time of -the great wars.</p> - -<p>That morning, the third Monday of February, -animation was very lively; the crowd was as thick -as on the finest summer days, which indeed it -suggested through its cloudless sky warmed by a -golden sun. People were talking and gesticulating -in groups, but what agitated them was -less the buying and selling than a certain event -which caused all traffic to cease and turned all -looks and heads and even the broad eyes of the -oxen and the twitching ears of the little Camargue -horses toward the Church of Sainte Perpétue. -The fact was that a rumor had just spread through -the market, where it occasioned an emotion that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_386">[386]</span> -ran to extraordinary height, to the effect that -to-day the son of Numa would be baptized—that -same little Roumestan whose birth three -weeks before had been received with transports -of joy in Aps and the entire Provençal South. -Unfortunately this baptism, which had been delayed -because of the deep mourning the family -was in, had to preserve the appearance of incognito -for the very same reason, and it is probable -that the ceremony would have passed unperceived -had it not been for certain old sorceresses belonging -to the country about Les Baux who every -Monday install upon the front steps of Sainte -Perpétue a little market of aromatic herbs and -dried and perfumed simples culled among the -Alpilles. Seeing the coach of Aunt Portal stopping -in front of the church, the old herb-sellers -gave the alarm to the women who sell <i>aïets</i> (garlic), -who move about pretty much everywhere -from one end of the <i>corso</i> to the other with their -arms crammed with the shining wreaths of their -wares. The garlic women notified the fish dames -and very soon the little street which leads to the -church poured forth upon the little square all the -gossip and excitement of the market-place. They -pressed about Ménicle, who sat erect on the box -in deep mourning with crape on his arm and hat -and merely answered all questions with a silent -and indifferent play of his shoulders. Spite of -everything, they insisted upon waiting, and in the -mercer’s street beneath the bands of calico the -crowd piled itself up to suffocation while the bolder<span class="pagenum" id="Page_387">[387]</span> -spirits mounted the well-curb—all eyes fixed on the -grand portal of the church, which at last opened.</p> - -<p>There was a murmur of “ah!” as when fireworks -are let off, a triumphant and modulated -sound which was cut short by the sight of a tall -old man dressed in black, very much overwhelmed -and very melancholy, who gave his arm to -Madame Portal, who as far as she was concerned -was very proud to have served as godmother -along with the First President, proud of their two -names side by side on the parish register; but -she was saddened by the recent mourning and -the sorrowful impressions which she had just -renewed once more in the church. The crowd -had a feeling of severe deception at sight of this -austere couple, who were followed by the great -man of Aps, also entirely in black and with gloves -on—Numa, penetrated by the solitude and cold -of this baptism performed in the midst of four -candles without any other music than the wailing -of the little child, upon whom the Latin of the -function and the baptismal water dropping on a -tender little head like that of an unfledged bird -had caused the most disagreeable impression. -But the appearance of a richly fed nurse, large, -heavy and decked with ribbons like a prize at an -agricultural meet, and the sparkling little parcel of -laces and white embroidery which she carried like -a sash, dissipated the melancholy of the spectators -and roused a new cry that sounded like a -mounting rocket, a joy scattered into a thousand -enthusiastic exclamations:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_388">[388]</span></p> - -<p>“<i>Lou vaqui!</i>—there he is! <i>Vé! vé!</i>”</p> - -<p>Surprised and dazzled, winking in the bright -sunlight, Numa stopped a moment on the high -porch in order to look at these Moorish faces, -this closely packed herding together of a black -flock from which a crazy tenderness mounted up -to where he stood. And although tired of ovations, -at that moment he had one of the most lively -emotions in his existence as a public man, a proud -intoxication which an entirely new and already -very lively sentiment of paternity ennobled. He -was about to speak and then remembered that this -platform in front of the church was not the place -for it.</p> - -<p>“Get in, nurse,” said he to the tranquil wet-nurse -from Bourgogne, whose eyes, like those of a -milch cow, were staring wide open in amazement. -And while she was bestowing herself with her -light burden in the coach he advised Ménicle to -return quickly by the cross streets. But a tremendous -clamor answered him:</p> - -<p>“No, no, the grand round—the grand round!”</p> - -<p>They meant that he should pass the entire -length of the market place.</p> - -<p>“Well then, the grand round be it!” said -Roumestan after having consulted his father-in-law -with a look; for he wished to spare him this -joyful procession; and so the coach, starting with -many crackings of its ancient and heavy carcass, -entered the little street and debouched upon the -<i>corso</i> in the midst of <i>vivas</i> from the crowd, which -grew excited over its own cries and culminated in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_389">[389]</span> -a whirl of enthusiasm so as to block the way of -horses and wheels at every moment. With the -windows open they marched slowly on through -these acclamations, raised hats, fluttering handkerchiefs -and all the odors and hot breaths which the -market exhaled as they passed. The women stuck -their ardent bronzed heads forward right into the -carriage and at seeing no more than the cap of -the little baby would exclaim:</p> - -<p>“<i>Diou! lou bèu drôle!</i>” (My God! what a -lovely child!)</p> - -<p>“He looks just like his father—<i>qué?</i>”</p> - -<p>“Already has his Bourbon nose and his fine -manners!”</p> - -<p>“Show it to us, my darling, show us your beautiful -man’s face.”</p> - -<p>“He is as lovely as an egg!”</p> - -<p>“You could drink him in a glass of water!”</p> - -<p>“<i>Té!</i> my treasure!”</p> - -<p>“My little quail!”</p> - -<p>“My lambkin—my guinea-hen!”</p> - -<p>“My lovely pearl!”</p> - -<p>And these women wrapped and licked him with -the brown flame from their eyes. But he, a child -but one month old, was not scared in the least. -Waked up by all this noise and leaning back on -the cushion with its bows of pink ribbon, he regarded -everything with his little cat eyes, the -pupils dilated and fixed, with two drops of milk -at the corners of his lips. And there he lay, calm -and evidently pleased at these apparitions of heads -at the windows and these growing noises with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_390">[390]</span> -which soon mingled the baaing, mooing and -braying of the cattle, seized as they were by -a formidable nervous imitation, all their necks -stretched out and mouths open and jaws yawning -to the glory of Roumestan and his offspring! -Even then, at a time when everybody else in the -carriage was holding their stunned ears with both -hands, the little man remained perfectly impassible, -so that his coolness even broke up the -solemn features of the old President, who said:</p> - -<p>“Well, if that fellow was not born for the -forum!”</p> - -<p>On leaving the market they hoped to be rid of -all this, but the crowd followed them, being joined -as they went by the weavers on the Chemin-neuf, -the yarn-makers in womanly bands and the porters -from the Avenue Berchère. The shopmen ran to -the threshold of their stores, the balcony of the -Club of the Whites was flooded with people and -presently with their banners the Orphéons debouched -from all the streets singing their choral -songs and giving musical bursts, just as if Numa -had arrived; but along with it all there went -something gayer and more unhackneyed, something -beyond the habitual merry-making.</p> - -<p>In the finest room belonging to the Portal Mansion, -whose white wainscots and rich silks belonged -to the last century, Rosalie was stretched upon an -invalid’s chair, turning her eyes now upon the -empty cradle and then upon the deserted and sunny -street; she grew impatient as she waited for the -return of her child. On her fine features, pale<span class="pagenum" id="Page_391">[391]</span> -and creased with fatigue and tears, one might see -nevertheless something like a happy restfulness; -yet one could read there the whole history of her -existence throughout the last two months, her anxieties -and tortures, her rupture with Numa, the -death of her dear Hortense and at last the -birth of the child, which swept everything else -into insignificance.</p> - -<p>When this great happiness really came to her -she did not believe it possible; broken by so many -blows, she did not believe herself capable of giving -life to anything. During the last days she even -imagined that she no longer felt the impatient -movements of the little captive, and although -cradle and layette were all ready she hid them, -moved by a superstitious fear, and merely notified -the Englishwoman who took care of her:</p> - -<p>“If child’s clothes are asked for, you will know -where to find them.”</p> - -<p>It is nothing to abandon oneself to a bed of torture -with closed eyes and clenched teeth for many, -many long hours, interrupted every five minutes -by a terrible cry that tears and compels one; it is -nothing to undergo one’s destiny as a victim all of -whose happy moments must be dearly bought—if -there is hope at the end of it all. But what -horrible martyrdom in the final pain when, struck -by a supreme disillusionment, the almost animal -lamentations of the woman are mingled with the -deeper sobs of deceived maternity! Half dead -and bleeding, she kept repeating from the bottom -of her annihilation: “He is dead—he is dead!”—when<span class="pagenum" id="Page_392">[392]</span> -she heard that trial of a voice, that -respiration and cry in one, that appeal for light -which the newborn infant makes. Ah, with what -overflowing tenderness did she not respond!</p> - -<p>“My little one!”</p> - -<p>He lived and they brought him to her. So this -was hers after all, this little creature short of -breath, dazzled and startled—almost blind! This -small affair in the flesh connected her again with -life, and merely by pressing it against her all the -feverishness of her body was drowned by a sensation -of comfortable coolness. No more mourning, -no more wretchedness! Here was her son, that -desire and regret which she had endured for ten -years and had burnt her eyes with tears whenever -she saw the children of other people, that very -same baby which she had kissed so often beforehand -upon so many other lovely little rosy cheeks! -There he was, and he caused her a new ravishment -and surprise every time that she leaned from -her bed over his cradle and swept aside the -covers that hid a slumber that could hardly be -heard and the shivery and contracted positions of -a newly born child. She wanted to have him -always near her. When he went out she was anxious -and counted every minute. But never had -she experienced quite so much anguish as upon -this morning of the baptism.</p> - -<p>“What time is it?” asked she every minute. -“How long they are! Heavens, what a time -they take!”</p> - -<p>Mme. Le Quesnoy, who had remained behind<span class="pagenum" id="Page_393">[393]</span> -with her daughter, reassured her, although she was -herself a little anxious; for this grandson, the first -and only one, was very close to the heart of his -grandparents and lighted up their mourning with a -hope. A distant clamor which grew deeper as it -approached increased the trouble of the two -women. Running to the window they listened—choral -songs, gunshots, clamors, bells ringing like -mad! And all of a sudden the Englishwoman -who is looking out on the street cries: “Madame, -it is the baptism!”</p> - -<p>And so it was the baptism, this noise like a riot -and these howlings as of cannibals around the -stake.</p> - -<p>“Oh, this South, this South!” repeated the -young mother, now very much frightened, for she -feared that her little one would be suffocated in -the press.</p> - -<p>But not at all; here he was, very alive indeed, -in splendid case, waving his short little arms with -his eyes wide open, wearing the long baptismal -robe whose decorations Rosalie herself had embroidered -and whose laces she herself had sewed -on; it was the robe meant for the other; and so it -is her two sons in one, the dead and the living -one, whom she owns to-day.</p> - -<p>“He did not make a cry, or ask for milk a -single time the whole journey!” Aunt Portal affirms, -and then goes on to relate in her picturesque -way the triumphal tour of the town, whilst in the -old hotel, which has suddenly become the old -house for ovations, all the doors slam and the servants<span class="pagenum" id="Page_394">[394]</span> -rush out into the porch where the musicians -are being regaled with <i>gazeuse</i>. The musical -bursts resound and the panes tremble in every -window. The old Le Quesnoys have gone out -into the garden to get away from this jollity which -overwhelms them with grief, and since Roumestan -is about to make a speech from the balcony, Aunt -Portal and Polly the Englishwoman run quickly -into the drawing-room to listen.</p> - -<p>“If Madame would be so kind as to hold the -baby?” asks the wet-nurse, as consumed with -curiosity as a wild woman. And Rosalie is only -too happy to remain behind with her child upon -her knees. From her window she can see the -banners glittering in the wind and the crowd -densely crushed together and spellbound by the -words of her great man. Phrases from his speech -reach her now and then, but more than all else -she hears the tone of that captivating and moving -voice, and a sorrowful shudder passes through her -at thought of all the evil which has come to her -by way of that eloquence, so ready to lie and to -dupe others.</p> - -<p>At last it is all over; she feels that she has -reached a point where deceptions and wounds can -hurt her no more; she has a child, and that sums -up all her happiness, all her dreams! And holding -him up like a buckler she hugs the dear little -creature to her breast and questions him very low -and very near by, as if she were looking for some -response, or some resemblance in the sketchy -features of this unformed little countenance, these<span class="pagenum" id="Page_395">[395]</span> -dainty lineaments which seem to have been impressed -by a caress in wax and already show a -sensual, violent mouth, a nose curved in search of -adventures and a soft and square chin.</p> - -<p>“And will you also be a liar? Will you pass -your life betraying others and yourself, breaking -those innocent hearts who have never done you -other evil than to believe in and love you? Will -you be possessed of a light and cruel inconstancy, -taking life like an amateur and a singer of cavatinas? -Will you make a merchandise of words -without bothering yourself as to their real value -and their connection with your thought, so long as -they are brilliant and resounding?”</p> - -<p>And putting her lips in a kiss upon that little -ear which the light strands of hair surround:</p> - -<p>“Tell me, are you going to be a Roumestan?”</p> - -<p>The orator on the balcony had lashed himself -up and had reached the moment of effusiveness -when nothing could be heard except the final -chords, accentuated in the Southern manner—“my -soul”—“my blood”—“morals”—“religion”—“our -country”—punctuated by the applause -of that audience which was made according -to his image and which he summed up in his own -self both in his qualities and his vices—an effervescing -South, mobile and tumultuous like a sea -with many currents, each of which spoke of him!</p> - -<p>There was a final <i>viva</i> and then the crowd was -heard slowly passing away. Roumestan came -into the room mopping his brow; intoxicated by -his triumph and warmed by this endless tenderness<span class="pagenum" id="Page_396">[396]</span> -of the whole people, he approached his wife -and kissed her with a sincere effusion of sentiment. -He felt himself very kind to her and as tender as -on the first day of their marriage; never a bit of -remorse and never a bit of rancor!</p> - -<p>“<i>Bé!</i> just see how they make much of him! -How they applaud your son!” Kneeling before -the sofa the grand personage of Aps played with -his child and touched the little fingers that seized -upon everything and the little feet that kicked out -into the air.</p> - -<p>With a wrinkle on her brow Rosalie looked at -him, trying to define his contradictory and inexplicable -nature. Then suddenly, as if she had -found something:</p> - -<p>“Numa, what was that proverb you people use -which Aunt Portal repeated the other day? ‘<i>Joie -de rue</i>’—how was it?”</p> - -<p>“Oh yes, I remember: ‘<i>Gau de carriero, doulou -d’oustau.</i>’” (Happiness of the street, sorrow -of the home.)</p> - -<p>“That is it,” said she with an expression of -deep thought. And, letting the words fall one by -one as you drop stones into an abyss, she slowly -repeated, putting the while the sorrow of her life -into it, this proverb, in which an entire race has -drawn its own portrait and formulated its own -being:</p> - -<p>“Happiness of the street, sorrow of the home.”</p> - - -<div class="p2 center">THE END.</div> - -<hr> -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_397">[397]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_READABLE_BOOKS">THE READABLE BOOKS</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center">“WORTHY THE READING AND THE WORLD’S DELIGHT.”</p> - - -<p class="chapfirst">A Series of 12mo volumes by the best authors, handsomely printed in clear -and legible type, upon paper of excellent quality, illustrated with frontispieces -in photogravure and half tone, neatly and strongly bound in cloth, -extra, gilt top, with gold lettering on back and sides, issued at the popular -price of $1.00 per volume.</p> - -<div class="blockquot booklist"> - -<p>1. Adam Bede. By <span class="smcap">George Eliot</span>.</p> - -<p>2. Alice. By <span class="smcap">Bulwer</span>.</p> - -<p>3. Andronike. By <span class="smcap">Prof. Edwin A. -Grosvenor</span>.</p> - -<p>4. Annals of the Parish. By <span class="smcap">Galt</span>.</p> - -<p>5. Arthur O’Leary. By <span class="smcap">Lever</span>.</p> - -<p>6. Antonia. By <span class="smcap">George Sand</span>.</p> - -<p>7. Ascanio. By <span class="smcap">Dumas</span>.</p> - -<p>11. Bacon’s Essays.</p> - -<p>12. Ball of Snow, and Sultanetta. -By <span class="smcap">Dumas</span>.</p> - -<p>13. Barrington. By <span class="smcap">Lever</span>.</p> - -<p>14. Bismarck, Life of. By <span class="smcap">Lowe</span>.</p> - -<p>15. Black, the Story of a Dog. By -<span class="smcap">Dumas</span>.</p> - -<p>16. Black Tulip. By <span class="smcap">Dumas</span>.</p> - -<p>17. Brigand. By <span class="smcap">Dumas</span>.</p> - -<p>18. Bulwer’s Dramas and Poems.</p> - -<p>19. Bramleighs of Bishop’s Folly. -By <span class="smcap">Lever</span>.</p> - -<p>20. Barnaby Rudge. By <span class="smcap">Dickens</span>.</p> - -<p>25. Chauvelin’s Will, and the Velvet -Necklace. By <span class="smcap">Dumas</span>.</p> - -<p>26. Chevalier d’Harmental. By -<span class="smcap">Dumas</span>.</p> - -<p>27. Chevalier de Maison Rouge. -By <span class="smcap">Dumas</span>.</p> - -<p>28. Child’s History of England. By -<span class="smcap">Dickens</span>.</p> - -<p>29. Christmas Books. By <span class="smcap">Dickens</span>.</p> - -<p>30. Confessions of Con Cregan. By -<span class="smcap">Lever</span>.</p> - -<p>31. Cosette. (Les Misérables, Part -2.) By <span class="smcap">Hugo</span>.</p> - -<p>36. Dame de Monsoreau. By <span class="smcap">Dumas</span>.</p> - -<p>37. David Copperfield. By <span class="smcap">Dickens</span>.</p> - -<p>38. Devereux. By <span class="smcap">Bulwer</span>.</p> - -<p>45. Effie Hetherington. By <span class="smcap">Buchanan</span>.</p> - -<p>46. Emma. By <span class="smcap">Jane Austen</span>.</p> - -<p>47. Epictetus, Discourses and Enchiridion -of.</p> - -<p>48. Ernest Maltravers. By <span class="smcap">Bulwer</span>.</p> - -<p>49. Eugene Aram. By <span class="smcap">Bulwer</span>.</p> - -<p>54. Fated to be Free. By <span class="smcap">Ingelow</span>.</p> - -<p>55. Fantine. (Les Misérables, Part -1.) By <span class="smcap">Hugo</span>.</p> - -<p>56. Felix Holt. By <span class="smcap">George Eliot</span>.</p> - -<p>57. File No. 113. By <span class="smcap">Gaboriau</span>.</p> - -<p>58. Fortunes of Glencore. By -<span class="smcap">Lever</span>.</p> - -<p>59. Forty-Five. By <span class="smcap">Dumas</span>.</p> - -<p>60. Fromont and Risler. By <span class="smcap">Daudet</span>.</p> - -<p>65. Gladstone, Life of. By <span class="smcap">Lucy</span>.</p> - -<p>66. Godolphin. By <span class="smcap">Bulwer</span>.</p> - -<p>67. Great Expectations. By <span class="smcap">Dickens</span>.</p> - -<p>71. Harry Lorrequer. By <span class="smcap">Lever</span>.</p> - -<p>72. Horoscope. By <span class="smcap">Dumas</span>.</p> - -<p>73. Hunchback of Notre Dame. By -<span class="smcap">Hugo</span>.</p> - -<p>74. Hypatia. By <span class="smcap">Kingsley</span>.</p> - -<p>80. Idyll and the Epic. (Les Misérables, -Part 4.) By <span class="smcap">Hugo</span>.</p> - -<p>81. Intellectual Life. By <span class="smcap">Hamerton</span>.</p> - -<p>82. Ivanhoe. By <span class="smcap">Scott</span>.</p> - -<p>83. Invisible Links. By <span class="smcap">Selma -Lagerlöf</span>.</p> - -<p>87. Jack Hinton, the Guardsman. -By <span class="smcap">Lever</span>.</p> - -<p>88. Jane Eyre. By <span class="smcap">Charlotte Bronte</span>.</p> - -<p>89. Jean Valjean. (Les Misérables, -Part 5.) By <span class="smcap">Hugo</span>.</p> - -<p>90. John Halifax. By <span class="smcap">Mulock</span>.</p> - -<p>95. Keats’ Poetical Works.</p> - -<p>96. Kings in Exile. By <span class="smcap">Daudet</span>.</p> - -<p>98. Lamb’s Essays.</p> - -<p>99. Last Days of Pompeii. By -<span class="smcap">Bulwer</span>.</p> - -<p>100. Leila, and Calderon. By <span class="smcap">Bulwer</span>.</p> - -<p>101. Light of Asia. By <span class="smcap">Arnold</span>.</p> - -<p>102. Lorna Doone. By <span class="smcap">Blackmore</span>.</p> - -<p>104. Letters from my Mill. By -<span class="smcap">Daudet</span>.</p> - -<p>105. Lord Kilgobbin. By <span class="smcap">Lever</span>.</p> - -<p>106. Lucretia. By <span class="smcap">Bulwer</span>.</p> - -<p>110. Man who Laughs. By <span class="smcap">Hugo</span>.</p> - -<p>111. Mansfield Park. By <span class="smcap">Jane Austen</span>.</p> - -<p>112. Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, -Thoughts of.</p> - -<p>113. Marguerite de Valois. By <span class="smcap">Dumas</span>.</p> - -<p>114. Marius. (Les Misérables, Part -3.) By <span class="smcap">Hugo</span>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_398">[398]</span></p> - -<p>115. Marriage. By <span class="smcap">Ferrier</span>.</p> - -<p>116. Mauprat. By <span class="smcap">George Sand</span>.</p> - -<p>117. Mill on the Floss. By <span class="smcap">George -Eliot</span>.</p> - -<p>118. Monte Cristo, 3 vols. By <span class="smcap">Dumas</span>.</p> - -<p>119. Miracles of Antichrist. By -<span class="smcap">Selma Lagerlöf</span>.</p> - -<p>120. Monday Tales. By <span class="smcap">Daudet</span>.</p> - -<p>125. Ninety-Three. By <span class="smcap">Hugo</span>.</p> - -<p>126. Northanger Abbey. By <span class="smcap">Jane -Austen</span>.</p> - -<p>127. Nanon. By <span class="smcap">George Sand</span>.</p> - -<p>128. Numa Roumestan. By <span class="smcap">Daudet</span>.</p> - -<p>130. O’Donoghue. By <span class="smcap">Lever</span>.</p> - -<p>131. Old Curiosity Shop. By <span class="smcap">Dickens</span>.</p> - -<p>132. Oliver Twist. By <span class="smcap">Dickens</span>.</p> - -<p>133. Oregon Trail. By <span class="smcap">Parkman</span>.</p> - -<p>134. Off the Skelligs. By <span class="smcap">Jean -Ingelow</span>.</p> - -<p>138. Persuasion. By <span class="smcap">Jane Austen</span>.</p> - -<p>139. Pickwick Papers. By <span class="smcap">Dickens</span>.</p> - -<p>140. Pilgrims of the Rhine. By -<span class="smcap">Bulwer</span>.</p> - -<p>141. Pilgrim’s Progress. By <span class="smcap">Bunyan</span>.</p> - -<p>142. Pillar of Fire. By <span class="smcap">Ingraham</span>.</p> - -<p>143. Pride and Prejudice. By <span class="smcap">Jane -Austen</span>.</p> - -<p>144. Prince of the House of David. -By <span class="smcap">Ingraham</span>.</p> - -<p>145. Prince Otto. By <span class="smcap">Stevenson</span>.</p> - -<p>146. Pelham. By <span class="smcap">Bulwer</span>.</p> - -<p>150. Queen’s Necklace. By <span class="smcap">Dumas</span>.</p> - -<p>155. Regent’s Daughter. By <span class="smcap">Dumas</span>.</p> - -<p>156. Religio Medici. By <span class="smcap">Sir Thomas -Browne</span>.</p> - -<p>157. Rienzi. By <span class="smcap">Bulwer</span>.</p> - -<p>158. Romola. By <span class="smcap">George Eliot</span>.</p> - -<p>165. Sappho. By <span class="smcap">Daudet</span>.</p> - -<p>166. Sarah de Berenger. By <span class="smcap">Ingelow</span>.</p> - -<p>167. Sense and Sensibility. By <span class="smcap">Jane -Austen</span>.</p> - -<p>168. Sir Jasper Carew. By <span class="smcap">Lever</span>.</p> - -<p>169. Sylvandire. By <span class="smcap">Dumas</span>.</p> - -<p>170. Swiss Family Robinson.</p> - -<p>171. Scenes of Clerical Life. By -<span class="smcap">George Eliot</span>.</p> - -<p>172. Silas Marner. By <span class="smcap">George Eliot</span>.</p> - -<p>173. Sir Brook Fossbrooke. By -<span class="smcap">Lever</span>.</p> - -<p>180. Tale of Two Cities. By <span class="smcap">Dickens</span>.</p> - -<p>181. Tales of Mean Streets. By -<span class="smcap">Morrison</span>.</p> - -<p>182. Three Musketeers. By <span class="smcap">Dumas</span>.</p> - -<p>183. Throne of David. By <span class="smcap">Ingraham</span>.</p> - -<p>184. Toilers of the Sea. By <span class="smcap">Hugo</span>.</p> - -<p>185. Treasure Island. By <span class="smcap">Stevenson</span>.</p> - -<p>186. Twenty Years After. By -<span class="smcap">Dumas</span>.</p> - -<p>187. Tartarin of Tarascon, and Tartarin -on the Alps. By <span class="smcap">Daudet</span>.</p> - -<p>188. Tony Butler. By <span class="smcap">Lever</span>.</p> - -<p>190. Vanity Fair. By <span class="smcap">Thackeray</span>.</p> - -<p>191. Verdant Green. By <span class="smcap">Cuthbert -Bede</span>.</p> - -<p>192. Vicar’s Daughter. By <span class="smcap">George -MacDonald</span>.</p> - -<p>199. Westward Ho! By <span class="smcap">Kingsley</span>.</p> - -<p>200. Walton’s Angler.</p> - -<p>201. Zanoni. By <span class="smcap">Bulwer</span>.</p> -</div> - -<p><i>Uniform with THE READABLE BOOKS</i>:—</p> - -<p>THE ROMANCES OF SIENKIEWICZ. Popular Edition.</p> - -<p> -With Fire and Sword. 75 cents.</p> - -<p>“Quo Vadis.” 75 cents.</p> - -<p>Pan Michael. 75 cents.</p> - -<p>Hania. 75 cents.<br> -</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowe15" id="zill_t398"> - <img class="w100" src="images/zill_t398.jpg" alt="decoration"> -</div> - -<hr class="full"> - - -<div class="transnote"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Note">Transcriber's Note</h2> - - - -<p>The following apparent errors have been corrected:</p> - -<ul> -<li>p. 24 "who had been bought up" changed to "who had been brought up"</li> - -<li>p. 34 "Wall, poor old chum" changed to "Well, poor old chum"</li> - -<li>p. 70 "to lesson their stress" changed to "to lessen their stress"</li> - -<li>p. 78 "a muddy subtance" changed to "a muddy substance"</li> - -<li>p. 84 "a medicant friar" changed to "a mendicant friar"</li> - -<li>p. 139 "“Take it back”" changed to "“Take it back,”"</li> - -<li>p. 163 "unfailing if some what" changed to "unfailing if somewhat"</li> - -<li>p. 196 "to day either" changed to "to-day either"</li> - -<li>p. 200 "cold Northeners" changed to "cold Northerners"</li> - -<li>p. 213 "choose out all of" changed to "choose out of all"</li> - -<li>p. 224 "trys to propitiate" changed to "tries to propitiate"</li> - -<li>p. 226 "tis all up" changed to "’tis all up"</li> - -<li>p. 260 "which the Provencal" changed to "which the Provençal"</li> -</ul> - - -<p>Inconsistent or archaic language has otherwise been kept as printed.</p> - -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NUMA ROUMESTAN ***</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. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. -</div> - -<div style='margin-top:1em; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE</div> -<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE</div> -<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when -you share it without charge with others. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: -</div> - -<blockquote> - <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> -</blockquote> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -provided that: -</div> - -<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ - works. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. - </div> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state -visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. -</div> - -</div> -</body> -</html> |