Education sentimentale. English Read online

  CHAPTER XIII.

  ROSANETTE AS A LOVELY TURK.

  His return to Paris gave him no pleasure. It was an evening at the closeof August. The boulevards seemed empty. The passers-by succeeded eachother with scowling faces. Here and there a boiler of asphalt wassmoking; several houses had their blinds entirely drawn. He made his wayto his own residence in the city. He found the hangings covered withdust; and, while dining all alone, Frederick was seized with a strangefeeling of forlornness; then his thoughts reverted to MademoiselleRoque. The idea of being married no longer appeared to him preposterous.They might travel; they might go to Italy, to the East. And he saw herstanding on a hillock, or gazing at a landscape, or else leaning on hisarm in a Florentine gallery while she stood to look at the pictures.What a pleasure it would be to him merely to watch this good littlecreature expanding under the splendours of Art and Nature! When she hadgot free from the commonplace atmosphere in which she had lived, shewould, in a little while, become a charming companion. M. Roque'swealth, moreover, tempted him. And yet he shrank from taking this step,regarding it as a weakness, a degradation.

  But he was firmly resolved (whatever he might do) on changing his modeof life--that is to say, to lose his heart no more in fruitlesspassions; and he even hesitated about executing the commission withwhich he had been intrusted by Louise. This was to buy for her atJacques Arnoux's establishment two large-sized statues of many coloursrepresenting negroes, like those which were at the Prefecture at Troyes.She knew the manufacturer's number, and would not have any other.Frederick was afraid that, if he went back to their house, he might onceagain fall a victim to his old passion.

  These reflections occupied his mind during the entire evening; and hewas just about to go to bed when a woman presented herself.

  "'Tis I," said Mademoiselle Vatnaz, with a laugh. "I have come in behalfof Rosanette."

  So, then, they were reconciled?

  "Good heavens, yes! I am not ill-natured, as you are well aware. Andbesides, the poor girl--it would take too long to tell you all aboutit."

  In short, the Marechale wanted to see him; she was waiting for ananswer, her letter having travelled from Paris to Nogent. MademoiselleVatnaz did not know what was in it.

  Then Frederick asked her how the Marechale was going on.

  He was informed that she was now _with_ a very rich man, a Russian,Prince Tzernoukoff, who had seen her at the races in the Champ de Marslast summer.

  "He has three carriages, a saddle-horse, livery servants, a groom got upin the English fashion, a country-house, a box at the Italian opera, anda heap of other things. There you are, my dear friend!"

  And the Vatnaz, as if she had profited by this change of fortune,appeared gayer and happier. She took off her gloves and examined thefurniture and the objects of virtu in the room. She mentioned theirexact prices like a second-hand dealer. He ought to have consulted herin order to get them cheaper. Then she congratulated him on his goodtaste:

  "Ha! this is pretty, exceedingly nice! There's nobody like you for theseideas."

  The next moment, as her eyes fell on a door close to the pillar of thealcove:

  "That's the way you let your friends out, eh?"

  And, in a familiar fashion, she laid her finger on his chin. He trembledat the contact of her long hands, at the same time thin and soft. Roundher wrists she wore an edging of lace, and on the body of her greendress lace embroidery, like a hussar. Her bonnet of black tulle, withborders hanging down, concealed her forehead a little. Her eyes shoneunderneath; an odour of patchouli escaped from her head-bands. Thecarcel-lamp placed on a round table, shining down on her like thefootlights of a theatre, made her jaw protrude.

  She said to him, in an unctuous tone, while she drew forth from herpurse three square slips of paper:

  "You will take these from me?"

  They were three tickets for Delmar's benefit performance.

  "What! for him?"

  "Certainly."

  Mademoiselle Vatnaz, without giving a further explanation, added thatshe adored him more than ever. If she were to be believed, the comedianwas now definitely classed amongst "the leading celebrities of the age."And it was not such or such a personage that he represented, but thevery genius of France, the People. He had "the humanitarian spirit; heunderstood the priesthood of Art." Frederick, in order to put an end tothese eulogies, gave her the money for the three seats.

  "You need not say a word about this over the way. How late it is, goodheavens! I must leave you. Ah! I was forgetting the address--'tis theRue Grange-Batelier, number 14."

  And, at the door:

  "Good-bye, beloved man!"

  "Beloved by whom?" asked Frederick. "What a strange woman!"

  And he remembered that Dussardier had said to him one day, when talkingabout her:

  "Oh, she's not much!" as if alluding to stories of a by no meansedifying character.

  Next morning he repaired to the Marechale's abode. She lived in a newhouse, the spring-roller blinds of which projected into the street. Atthe head of each flight of stairs there was a mirror against the wall;before each window there was a flower-stand, and all over the stepsextended a carpet of oil-cloth; and when one got inside the door, thecoolness of the staircase was refreshing.

  It was a man-servant who came to open the door, a footman in a redwaistcoat. On a bench in the anteroom a woman and two men, tradespeople,no doubt, were waiting as if in a minister's vestibule. At the left,the door of the dining-room, slightly ajar, afforded a glimpse of emptybottles on the sideboards, and napkins on the backs of chairs; andparallel with it ran a corridor in which gold-coloured sticks supportedan espalier of roses. In the courtyard below, two boys with bare armswere scrubbing a landau. Their voices rose to Frederick's ears, mingledwith the intermittent sounds made by a currycomb knocking against astone.

  The man-servant returned. "Madame will receive Monsieur," and he ledFrederick through a second anteroom, and then into a large drawing-roomhung with yellow brocatel with twisted fringes at the corners which werejoined at the ceiling, and which seemed to be continued by flowerings oflustre resembling cables. No doubt there had been an entertainment therethe night before. Some cigar-ashes had been allowed to remain on thepier-tables.

  At last he found his way into a kind of boudoir with stained-glasswindows, through which the sun shed a dim light. Trefoils of carved woodadorned the upper portions of the doors. Behind a balustrade, threepurple mattresses formed a divan; and the stem of a narghileh made ofplatinum lay on top of it. Instead of a mirror, there was on themantelpiece a pyramid-shaped whatnot, displaying on its shelves anentire collection of curiosities, old silver trumpets, Bohemian horns,jewelled clasps, jade studs, enamels, grotesque figures in china, and alittle Byzantine virgin with a vermilion ape; and all this was mingledin a golden twilight with the bluish shade of the carpet, themother-of-pearl reflections of the foot-stools, and the tawny hue of thewalls covered with maroon leather. In the corners, on little pedestals,there were bronze vases containing clusters of flowers, which made theatmosphere heavy.

  Rosanette presented herself, attired in a pink satin vest with whitecashmere trousers, a necklace of piasters, and a red cap encircled witha branch of jasmine.

  Frederick started back in surprise, then said he had brought the thingshe had been speaking about, and he handed her the bank-note. She gazedat him in astonishment; and, as he still kept the note in his hand,without knowing where to put it:

  "Pray take it!"

  She seized it; then, as she flung it on the divan:

  "You are very kind."

  She wanted it to meet the rent of a piece of ground at Bellevue, whichshe paid in this way every year. Her unceremoniousness woundedFrederick's sensibility. However, so much the better! this would avengehim for the past.

  "Sit down," said she. "There--closer." And in a grave tone: "In thefirst place, I have to thank you, my dear friend, for having risked yourlife."

  "Oh! that's nothing!"

  "What! W
hy, 'tis a very noble act!"--and the Marechale exhibited anembarrassing sense of gratitude; for it must have been impressed uponher mind that the duel was entirely on account of Arnoux, as the latter,who believed it himself, was not likely to have resisted the temptationof telling her so.

  "She is laughing at me, perhaps," thought Frederick.

  He had nothing further to detain him, and, pleading that he had anappointment, he rose.

  "Oh! no, stay!"

  He resumed his seat, and presently complimented her on her costume.

  She replied, with an air of dejection:

  "'Tis the Prince who likes me to dress in this fashion! And one mustsmoke such machines as that, too!" Rosanette added, pointing towards thenarghileh. "Suppose we try the taste of it? Have you any objection?"

  She procured a light, and, finding it hard to set fire to the tobacco,she began to stamp impatiently with her foot. Then a feeling of languortook possession of her; and she remained motionless on the divan, with acushion under her arm and her body twisted a little on one side, oneknee bent and the other leg straight out.

  The long serpent of red morocco, which formed rings on the floor, rolleditself over her arm. She rested the amber mouthpiece on her lips, andgazed at Frederick while she blinked her eyes in the midst of the cloudof smoke that enveloped her. A gurgling sound came from her throat asshe inhaled the fumes, and from time to time she murmured:

  "The poor darling! the poor pet!"

  He tried to find something of an agreeable nature to talk about. Thethought of Vatnaz recurred to his memory.

  He remarked that she appeared to him very lady-like.

  "Yes, upon my word," replied the Marechale. "She is very lucky in havingme, that same lady!"--without adding another word, so much reserve wasthere in their conversation.

  Each of them felt a sense of constraint, something that formed a barrierto confidential relations between them. In fact, Rosanette's vanity hadbeen flattered by the duel, of which she believed herself to be theoccasion. Then, she was very much astonished that he did not hasten totake advantage of his achievement; and, in order to compel him to returnto her, she had invented this story that she wanted five hundred francs.How was it that Frederick did not ask for a little love from her inreturn? This was a piece of refinement that filled her with amazement,and, with a gush of emotion, she said to him:

  "Will you come with us to the sea-baths?"

  "What does 'us' mean?"

  "Myself and my bird. I'll make you pass for a cousin of mine, as in theold comedies."

  "A thousand thanks!"

  "Well, then, you will take lodgings near ours."

  The idea of hiding himself from a rich man humiliated him.

  "No! that is impossible."

  "Just as you please!"

  Rosanette turned away with tears in her eyes. Frederick noticed this,and in order to testify the interest which he took in her, he said thathe was delighted to see her at last in a comfortable position.

  She shrugged her shoulders. What, then, was troubling her? Was it,perchance, that she was not loved.

  "Oh! as for me, I have always people to love me!"

  She added:

  "It remains to be seen in what way."

  Complaining that she was "suffocating with the heat," the Marechaleunfastened her vest; and, without any other garment round her body, saveher silk chemise, she leaned her head on his shoulder so as to awakenhis tenderness.

  A man of less introspective egoism would not have bestowed a thought atsuch a moment on the possibility of the Vicomte, M. de Comaing, oranyone else appearing on the scene. But Frederick had been too manytimes the dupe of these very glances to compromise himself by a freshhumiliation.

  She wished to know all about his relationships and his amusements. Sheeven enquired about his financial affairs, and offered to lend him moneyif he wanted it. Frederick, unable to stand it any longer, took up hishat.

  "I'm off, my pet! I hope you'll enjoy yourself thoroughly down there._Au revoir!_"

  She opened her eyes wide; then, in a dry tone:

  "_Au revoir!_"

  He made his way out through the yellow drawing-room, and through thesecond anteroom. There was on the table, between a vase full ofvisiting-cards and an inkstand, a chased silver chest. It was MadameArnoux's. Then he experienced a feeling of tenderness, and, at the sametime, as it were, the scandal of a profanation. He felt a longing toraise his hands towards it, and to open it. He was afraid of being seen,and went away.

  Frederick was virtuous. He did not go back to the Arnouxs' house. Hesent his man-servant to buy the two negroes, having given him all thenecessary directions; and the case containing them set forth the sameevening for Nogent. Next morning, as he was repairing to Deslauriers'lodgings, at the turn where the Rue Vivienne opened out on theboulevard, Madame Arnoux presented herself before him face to face.

  The first movement of each of them was to draw back; then the same smilecame to the lips of both, and they advanced to meet each other. For aminute, neither of them uttered a single word.

  The sunlight fell round her, and her oval face, her long eyelashes, herblack lace shawl, which showed the outline of her shoulders, her gown ofshot silk, the bouquet of violets at the corner of her bonnet; allseemed to him to possess extraordinary magnificence. An infinitesoftness poured itself out of her beautiful eyes; and in a falteringvoice, uttering at random the first words that came to his lips:

  "How is Arnoux?"

  "Well, I thank you!"

  "And your children?"

  "They are very well!"

  "Ah! ah! What fine weather we are getting, are we not?"

  "Splendid, indeed!"

  "You're going out shopping?"

  And, with a slow inclination of the head:

  "Good-bye!"

  She put out her hand, without having spoken one word of an affectionatedescription, and did not even invite him to dinner at her house. Nomatter! He would not have given this interview for the most delightfulof adventures; and he pondered over its sweetness as he proceeded on hisway.

  Deslauriers, surprised at seeing him, dissembled his spite; for hecherished still through obstinacy some hope with regard to MadameArnoux; and he had written to Frederick to prolong his stay in thecountry in order to be free in his manoeuvres.

  He informed Frederick, however, that he had presented himself at herhouse in order to ascertain if their contract stipulated for a communityof property between husband and wife: in that case, proceedings might betaken against the wife; "and she put on a queer face when I told herabout your marriage."

  "Now, then! What an invention!"

  "It was necessary in order to show that you wanted your own capital! Aperson who was indifferent would not have been attacked with the speciesof fainting fit that she had."

  "Really?" exclaimed Frederick.

  "Ha! my fine fellow, you are betraying yourself! Come! be honest!"

  A feeling of nervous weakness stole over Madame Arnoux's lover.

  "Why, no! I assure you! upon my word of honour!"

  These feeble denials ended by convincing Deslauriers. He congratulatedhis friend, and asked him for some details. Frederick gave him none, andeven resisted a secret yearning to concoct a few. As for the mortgage,he told the other to do nothing about it, but to wait. Deslauriersthought he was wrong on this point, and remonstrated with him in rathera churlish fashion.

  He was, besides, more gloomy, malignant, and irascible than ever. In ayear, if fortune did not change, he would embark for America or blow outhis brains. Indeed, he appeared to be in such a rage against everything,and so uncompromising in his radicalism, that Frederick could not keepfrom saying to him:

  "Here you are going on in the same way as Senecal!"

  Deslauriers, at this remark, informed him that that individual to whomhe alluded had been discharged from Sainte-Pelagie, the magisterialinvestigation having failed to supply sufficient evidence, no doubt, tojustify his being sent for trial.

 
Dussardier was so much overjoyed at the release of Senecal, that hewanted to invite his friends to come and take punch with him, and beggedof Frederick to be one of the party, giving the latter, at the sametime, to understand that he would be found in the company of Hussonnet,who had proved himself a very good friend to Senecal.

  In fact, the _Flambard_ had just become associated with a businessestablishment whose prospectus contained the following references:"Vineyard Agency. Office of Publicity. Debt Recovery and IntelligenceOffice, etc." But the Bohemian was afraid that his connection with trademight be prejudicial to his literary reputation, and he had accordinglytaken the mathematician to keep the accounts. Although the situation wasa poor one, Senecal would but for it have died of starvation. Notwishing to mortify the worthy shopman, Frederick accepted hisinvitation.

  Dussardier, three days beforehand, had himself waxed the red floor ofhis garret, beaten the armchair, and knocked off the dust from thechimney-piece, on which might be seen under a globe an alabastertimepiece between a stalactite and a cocoanut. As his two chandeliersand his chamber candlestick were not sufficient, he had borrowed twomore candlesticks from the doorkeeper; and these five lights shone onthe top of the chest of drawers, which was covered with three napkins inorder that it might be fit to have placed on it in such a way as to lookattractive some macaroons, biscuits, a fancy cake, and a dozen bottlesof beer. At the opposite side, close to the wall, which was hung withyellow paper, there was a little mahogany bookcase containing the_Fables of Lachambeaudie_, the _Mysteries of Paris_, and Norvins'_Napoleon_--and, in the middle of the alcove, the face of Beranger wassmiling in a rosewood frame.

  The guests (in addition to Deslauriers and Senecal) were an apothecarywho had just been admitted, but who had not enough capital to start inbusiness for himself, a young man of his own house, a town-traveller inwines, an architect, and a gentleman employed in an insurance office.Regimbart had not been able to come. Regret was expressed at hisabsence.

  They welcomed Frederick with a great display of sympathy, as they allknew through Dussardier what he had said at M. Dambreuse's house.Senecal contented himself with putting out his hand in a dignifiedmanner.

  He remained standing near the chimney-piece. The others seated, withtheir pipes in their mouths, listened to him, while he held forth onuniversal suffrage, from which he predicted as a result the triumph ofDemocracy and the practical application of the principles of the Gospel.However, the hour was at hand. The banquets of the party of reform werebecoming more numerous in the provinces. Piedmont, Naples, Tuscany----

  "'Tis true," said Deslauriers, interrupting him abruptly. "This cannotlast longer!"

  And he began to draw a picture of the situation. We had sacrificedHolland to obtain from England the recognition of Louis Philippe; andthis precious English alliance was lost, owing to the Spanish marriages.In Switzerland, M. Guizot, in tow with the Austrian, maintained thetreaties of 1815. Prussia, with her Zollverein, was preparingembarrassments for us. The Eastern question was still pending.

  "The fact that the Grand Duke Constantine sends presents to M. d'Aumaleis no reason for placing confidence in Russia. As for home affairs,never have so many blunders, such stupidity, been witnessed. TheGovernment no longer even keeps up its majority. Everywhere, indeed,according to the well-known expression, it is naught! naught! naught!And in the teeth of such public scandals," continued the advocate, withhis arms akimbo, "they declare themselves satisfied!"

  The allusion to a notorious vote called forth applause. Dussardieruncorked a bottle of beer; the froth splashed on the curtains. He didnot mind it. He filled the pipes, cut the cake, offered each of them aslice of it, and several times went downstairs to see whether the punchwas coming up; and ere long they lashed themselves up into a state ofexcitement, as they all felt equally exasperated against Power. Theirrage was of a violent character for no other reason save that they hatedinjustice, and they mixed up with legitimate grievances the most idioticcomplaints.

  The apothecary groaned over the pitiable condition of our fleet. Theinsurance agent could not tolerate Marshal Soult's two sentinels.Deslauriers denounced the Jesuits, who had just installed themselvespublicly at Lille. Senecal execrated M. Cousin much more foreclecticism, by teaching that certitude can be deduced from reason,developed selfishness and destroyed solidarity. The traveller in wines,knowing very little about these matters, remarked in a very loud tonethat he had forgotten many infamies:

  "The royal carriage on the Northern line must have cost eighty thousandfrancs. Who'll pay the amount?"

  "Aye, who'll pay the amount?" repeated the clerk, as angrily as if thisamount had been drawn out of his own pocket.

  Then followed recriminations against the lynxes of the Bourse and thecorruption of officials. According to Senecal they ought to go higherup, and lay the blame, first of all, on the princes who had revived themorals of the Regency period.

  "Have you not lately seen the Duc de Montpensier's friends coming backfrom Vincennes, no doubt in a state of intoxication, and disturbing withtheir songs the workmen of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine?"

  "There was even a cry of 'Down with the thieves!'" said the apothecary."I was there, and I joined in the cry!"

  "So much the better! The people are at last waking up since theTeste-Cubieres case."[D]

  "For my part, that case caused me some pain," said Dussardier, "becauseit imputed dishonour to an old soldier!"

  "Do you know," Senecal went on, "what they have discovered at theDuchesse de Praslin's house----?"

  But here the door was sent flying open with a kick. Hussonnet entered.

  [D] This refers to a charge of corruption made in 1843 against a generalwho was a member of the Ministry.--TRANSLATOR.

  "Hail, messeigneurs," said he, as he seated himself on the bed.

  No allusion was made to his article, which he was sorry, however, forhaving written, as the Marechale had sharply reprimanded him on accountof it.

  He had just seen at the Theatre de Dumas the _Chevalier deMaison-Rouge_, and declared that it seemed to him a stupid play.

  Such a criticism surprised the democrats, as this drama, by itstendency, or rather by its scenery, flattered their passions. Theyprotested. Senecal, in order to bring this discussion to a close, askedwhether the play served the cause of Democracy.

  "Yes, perhaps; but it is written in a style----"

  "Well, then, 'tis a good play. What is style? 'Tis the idea!"

  And, without allowing Frederick to say a word:

  "Now, I was pointing out that in the Praslin case----"

  Hussonnet interrupted him:

  "Ha! here's another worn-out trick! I'm disgusted at it!"

  "And others as well as you," returned Deslauriers.

  "It has only got five papers taken. Listen while I read this paragraph."

  And drawing his note-book out of his pocket, he read:

  "'We have, since the establishment of the best of republics, beensubjected to twelve hundred and twenty-nine press prosecutions, fromwhich the results to the writers have been imprisonment extending over aperiod of three thousand one hundred and forty-one years, and the lightsum of seven million one hundred and ten thousand five hundred francsby way of fine.' That's charming, eh?"

  They all sneered bitterly.

  Frederick, incensed against the others, broke in:

  "_The Democratie Pacifique_ has had proceedings taken against it onaccount of its feuilleton, a novel entitled _The Woman's Share_."

  "Come! that's good," said Hussonnet. "Suppose they prevented us fromhaving our share of the women!"

  "But what is it that's not prohibited?" exclaimed Deslauriers. "To smokein the Luxembourg is prohibited; to sing the Hymn to Pius IX. isprohibited!"

  "And the typographers' banquet has been interdicted," a voice cried,with a thick articulation.

  It was that of an architect, who had sat concealed in the shade of thealcove, and who had remained silent up to that moment. He added that,the week before, a man na
med Rouget had been convicted of offeringinsults to the king.

  "That gurnet[E] is fried," said Hussonnet.

  This joke appeared so improper to Senecal, that he reproached Hussonnetfor defending the Juggler of the Hotel de Ville, the friend of thetraitor Dumouriez.

  "I? quite the contrary!"

  He considered Louis Philippe commonplace, one of the National Guardtypes of men, all that savoured most of the provision-shop and thecotton night-cap! And laying his hand on his heart, the Bohemian gaveutterance to the rhetorical phrases:

  "It is always with a new pleasure.... Polish nationality will notperish.... Our great works will be pursued.... Give me some money formy little family...."

  [E] _Rouget_ means a gurnet.--TRANSLATOR.

  They all laughed hugely, declaring that he was a delightful fellow, fullof wit. Their delight was redoubled at the sight of the bowl of punchwhich was brought in by the keeper of a cafe.

  The flames of the alcohol and those of the wax-candles soon heated theapartment, and the light from the garret, passing across the courtyard,illuminated the side of an opposite roof with the flue of a chimney,whose black outlines could be traced through the darkness of night. Theytalked in very loud tones all at the same time. They had taken off theircoats; they gave blows to the furniture; they touched glasses.

  Hussonnet exclaimed:

  "Send up some great ladies, in order that this may be more Tour deNesles, have more local colouring, and be more Rembrandtesque,gadzooks!"

  And the apothecary, who kept stirring about the punch indefinitely,began to sing with expanded chest:

  "I've two big oxen in my stable, Two big white oxen----"

  Senecal laid his hand on the apothecary's mouth; he did not likedisorderly conduct; and the lodgers pressed their faces against thewindow-panes, surprised at the unwonted uproar that was taking place inDussardier's room.

  The honest fellow was happy, and said that this recalled to his mindtheir little parties on the Quai Napoleon in days gone by; however, theymissed many who used to be present at these reunions, "Pellerin, forinstance."

  "We can do without him," observed Frederick.

  And Deslauriers enquired about Martinon.

  "What has become of that interesting gentleman?"

  Frederick, immediately giving vent to the ill-will which he bore toMartinon, attacked his mental capacity, his character, his falseelegance, his entire personality. He was a perfect specimen of anupstart peasant! The new aristocracy, the mercantile class, was not asgood as the old--the nobility. He maintained this, and the democratsexpressed their approval, as if he were a member of the one class, andthey were in the habit of visiting the other. They were charmed withhim. The apothecary compared him to M. d'Alton Shee, who, though a peerof France, defended the cause of the people.

  The time had come for taking their departure. They all separated withgreat handshakings. Dussardier, in a spirit of affectionate solicitude,saw Frederick and Deslauriers home. As soon as they were in the street,the advocate assumed a thoughtful air, and, after a moment's silence:

  "You have a great grudge, then, against Pellerin?"

  Frederick did not hide his rancour.

  The painter, in the meantime, had withdrawn the notorious picture fromthe show-window. A person should not let himself be put out by trifles.What was the good of making an enemy for himself?

  "He has given way to a burst of ill-temper, excusable in a man whohasn't a sou. You, of course, can't understand that!"

  And, when Deslauriers had gone up to his own apartments, the shopman didnot part with Frederick. He even urged his friend to buy the portrait.In fact, Pellerin, abandoning the hope of being able to intimidate him,had got round them so that they might use their influence to obtain thething for him.

  Deslauriers spoke about it again, and pressed him on the point, urgingthat the artist's claims were reasonable.

  "I am sure that for a sum of, perhaps, five hundred francs----"

  "Oh, give it to him! Wait! here it is!" said Frederick.

  The picture was brought the same evening. It appeared to him a stillmore atrocious daub than when he had seen it first. The half-tints andthe shades were darkened under the excessive retouchings, and theyseemed obscured when brought into relation with the lights, which,having remained very brilliant here and there, destroyed the harmony ofthe entire picture.

  Frederick revenged himself for having had to pay for it by bitterlydisparaging it. Deslauriers believed in Frederick's statement on thepoint, and expressed approval of his conduct, for he had always beenambitious of constituting a phalanx of which he would be the leader.Certain men take delight in making their friends do things which aredisagreeable to them.

  Meanwhile, Frederick did not renew his visits to the Dambreuses. Helacked the capital for the investment. He would have to enter intoendless explanations on the subject; he hesitated about making up hismind. Perhaps he was in the right. Nothing was certain now, thecoal-mining speculation any more than other things. He would have togive up society of that sort. The end of the matter was thatDeslauriers was dissuaded from having anything further to do with theundertaking.

  From sheer force of hatred he had grown virtuous, and again he preferredFrederick in a position of mediocrity. In this way he remained hisfriend's equal and in more intimate relationship with him.

  Mademoiselle Roque's commission had been very badly executed. Her fatherwrote to him, supplying him with the most precise directions, andconcluded his letter with this piece of foolery: "At the risk of givingyou _nigger on the brain_!"

  Frederick could not do otherwise than call upon the Arnouxs', once more.He went to the warehouse, where he could see nobody. The firm being in atottering condition, the clerks imitated the carelessness of theirmaster.

  He brushed against the shelves laden with earthenware, which filled upthe entire space in the centre of the establishment; then, when hereached the lower end, facing the counter, he walked with a more noisytread in order to make himself heard.

  The portieres parted, and Madame Arnoux appeared.

  "What! you here! you!"

  "Yes," she faltered, with some agitation. "I was looking for----"

  He saw her handkerchief near the desk, and guessed that she had comedown to her husband's warehouse to have an account given to her as tothe business, to clear up some matter that caused her anxiety.

  "But perhaps there is something you want?" said she.

  "A mere nothing, madame."

  "These shop-assistants are intolerable! they are always out of the way."

  They ought not to be blamed. On the contrary, he congratulated himselfon the circumstance.

  She gazed at him in an ironical fashion.

  "Well, and this marriage?"

  "What marriage?"

  "Your own!"

  "Mine? I'll never marry as long as I live!"

  She made a gesture as if to contradict his words.

  "Though, indeed, such things must be, after all? We take refuge in thecommonplace, despairing of ever realising the beautiful existence ofwhich we have dreamed."

  "All your dreams, however, are not so--candid!"

  "What do you mean?"

  "When you drive to races with women!"

  He cursed the Marechale. Then something recurred to his memory.

  "But it was you begged of me yourself to see her at one time in theinterest of Arnoux."

  She replied with a shake of her head:

  "And you take advantage of it to amuse yourself?"

  "Good God! let us forget all these foolish things!"

  "'Tis right, since you are going to be married."

  And she stifled a sigh, while she bit her lips.

  Then he exclaimed:

  "But I tell you again I am not! Can you believe that I, with myintellectual requirements, my habits, am going to bury myself in theprovinces in order to play cards, look after masons, and walk about inwooden shoes? What object, pray, could I have for taking such a step?You'v
e been told that she was rich, haven't you? Ah! what do I careabout money? Could I, after yearning long for that which is most lovely,tender, enchanting, a sort of Paradise under a human form, and havingfound this sweet ideal at last when this vision hides every other frommy view----"

  And taking her head between his two hands, he began to kiss her on theeyelids, repeating:

  "No! no! no! never will I marry! never! never!"

  She submitted to these caresses, her mingled amazement and delighthaving bereft her of the power of motion.

  The door of the storeroom above the staircase fell back, and sheremained with outstretched arms, as if to bid him keep silence. Stepsdrew near. Then some one said from behind the door:

  "Is Madame there?"

  "Come in!"

  Madame Arnoux had her elbow on the counter, and was twisting about a penbetween her fingers quietly when the book-keeper threw aside theportiere.

  Frederick started up, as if on the point of leaving.

  "Madame, I have the honour to salute you. The set will be ready--will itnot? I may count on this?"

  She made no reply. But by thus silently becoming his accomplice in thedeception, she made his face flush with the crimson glow of adultery.

  On the following day he paid her another visit. She received him; and,in order to follow up the advantage he had gained, Frederickimmediately, without any preamble, attempted to offer some justificationfor the accidental meeting in the Champ de Mars. It was the merestchance that led to his being in that woman's company. While admittingthat she was pretty--which really was not the case--how could she foreven a moment absorb his thoughts, seeing that he loved another woman?

  "You know it well--I told you it was so!"

  Madame Arnoux hung down her head.

  "I am sorry you said such a thing."

  "Why?"

  "The most ordinary proprieties now demand that I should see you nomore!"

  He protested that his love was of an innocent character. The past oughtto be a guaranty as to his future conduct. He had of his own accord madeit a point of honour with himself not to disturb her existence, not todeafen her with his complaints.

  "But yesterday my heart overflowed."

  "We ought not to let our thoughts dwell on that moment, my friend!"

  And yet, where would be the harm in two wretched beings mingling theirgriefs?

  "For, indeed, you are not happy any more than I am! Oh! I know you. Youhave no one who responds to your craving for affection, for devotion. Iwill do anything you wish! I will not offend you! I swear to you that Iwill not!"

  And he let himself fall on his knees, in spite of himself, giving waybeneath the weight of the feelings that oppressed his heart.

  "Rise!" she said; "I desire you to do so!"

  And she declared in an imperious tone that if he did not comply with herwish, she would never see him again.

  "Ha! I defy you to do it!" returned Frederick. "What is there for me todo in the world? Other men strive for riches, celebrity, power! But Ihave no profession; you are my exclusive occupation, my whole wealth,the object, the centre of my existence and of my thoughts. I can no morelive without you than without the air of heaven! Do you not feel theaspiration of my soul ascending towards yours, and that they mustintermingle, and that I am dying on your account?"

  Madame Arnoux began to tremble in every limb.

  "Oh! leave me, I beg of you?"

  The look of utter confusion in her face made him pause. Then he advanceda step. But she drew back, with her two hands clasped.

  "Leave me in the name of Heaven, for mercy's sake!"

  And Frederick loved her so much that he went away.

  Soon afterwards, he was filled with rage against himself, declared inhis own mind that he was an idiot, and, after the lapse of twenty-fourhours, returned.

  Madame was not there. He remained at the head of the stairs, stupefiedwith anger and indignation. Arnoux appeared, and informed Frederick thathis wife had, that very morning, gone out to take up her residence at alittle country-house of which he had become tenant at Auteuil, as he hadgiven up possession of the house at Saint-Cloud.

  "This is another of her whims. No matter, as she is settled at last; andmyself, too, for that matter, so much the better. Let us dine togetherthis evening, will you?"

  Frederick pleaded as an excuse some urgent business; then he hurriedaway of his own accord to Auteuil.

  Madame Arnoux allowed an exclamation of joy to escape her lips. Then allhis bitterness vanished.

  He did not say one word about his love. In order to inspire her withconfidence in him, he even exaggerated his reserve; and on his askingwhether he might call again, she replied: "Why, of course!" putting outher hand, which she withdrew the next moment.

  From that time forth, Frederick increased his visits. He promised extrafares to the cabman who drove him. But often he grew impatient at theslow pace of the horse, and, alighting on the ground, he would make adash after an omnibus, and climb to the top of it out of breath. Thenwith what disdain he surveyed the faces of those around him, who werenot going to see her!

  He could distinguish her house at a distance, with an enormoushoneysuckle covering, on one side, the planks of the roof. It was a kindof Swiss chalet, painted red, with a balcony outside. In the gardenthere were three old chestnut-trees, and on a rising ground in thecentre might be seen a parasol made of thatch, held up by the trunk of atree. Under the slatework lining the walls, a big vine-tree, badlyfastened, hung from one place to another after the fashion of a rottencable. The gate-bell, which it was rather hard to pull, was slow inringing, and a long time always elapsed before it was answered. On eachoccasion he experienced a pang of suspense, a fear born of irresolution.

  Then his ears would be greeted with the pattering of the servant-maid'sslippers over the gravel, or else Madame Arnoux herself would make herappearance. One day he came up behind her just as she was stooping downin the act of gathering violets.

  Her daughter's capricious disposition had made it necessary to send thegirl to a convent. Her little son was at school every afternoon. Arnouxwas now in the habit of taking prolonged luncheons at the Palais-Royalwith Regimbart and their friend Compain. They gave themselves no botherabout anything that occurred, no matter how disagreeable it might be.

  It was clearly understood between Frederick and her that they should notbelong to each other. By this convention they were preserved fromdanger, and they found it easier to pour out their hearts to each other.

  She told him all about her early life at Chartres, which she spent withher mother, her devotion when she had reached her twelfth year, then herpassion for music, when she used to sing till nightfall in her littleroom, from which the ramparts could be seen.

  He related to her how melancholy broodings had haunted him at college,and how a woman's face shone brightly in the cloudland of hisimagination, so that, when he first laid eyes upon her, he felt that herfeatures were quite familiar to him.

  These conversations, as a rule, covered only the years during which theyhad been acquainted with each other. He recalled to her recollectioninsignificant details--the colour of her dress at a certain period, awoman whom they had met on a certain day, what she had said on anotheroccasion; and she replied, quite astonished:

  "Yes, I remember!"

  Their tastes, their judgments, were the same. Often one of them, whenlistening to the other, exclaimed:

  "That's the way with me."

  And the other replied:

  "And with me, too!"

  Then there were endless complaints about Providence:

  "Why was it not the will of Heaven? If we had only met----!"

  "Ah! if I had been younger!" she sighed.

  "No, but if I had been a little older."

  And they pictured to themselves a life entirely given up to love,sufficiently rich to fill up the vastest solitudes, surpassing all otherjoys, defying all forms of wretchedness, in which the hours would glideaway in a continual outpo
uring of their own emotions, and which would beas bright and glorious as the palpitating splendour of the stars.

  They were nearly always standing at the top of the stairs exposed to thefree air of heaven. The tops of trees yellowed by the autumn raisedtheir crests in front of them at unequal heights up to the edge of thepale sky; or else they walked on to the end of the avenue into asummer-house whose only furniture was a couch of grey canvas. Blackspecks stained the glass; the walls exhaled a mouldy smell; and theyremained there chatting freely about all sorts of topics--anything thathappened to arise--in a spirit of hilarity. Sometimes the rays of thesun, passing through the Venetian blind, extended from the ceiling downto the flagstones like the strings of a lyre. Particles of dust whirledamid these luminous bars. She amused herself by dividing them with herhand. Frederick gently caught hold of her; and he gazed on the twiningsof her veins, the grain of her skin, and the form of her fingers. Eachof those fingers of hers was for him more than a thing--almost aperson.

  She gave him her gloves, and, the week after, her handkerchief. Shecalled him "Frederick;" he called her "Marie," adoring this name, which,as he said, was expressly made to be uttered with a sigh of ecstasy, andwhich seemed to contain clouds of incense and scattered heaps of roses.

  They soon came to an understanding as to the days on which he would callto see her; and, leaving the house as if by mere chance, she walkedalong the road to meet him.

  She made no effort whatever to excite his love, lost in thatlistlessness which is characteristic of intense happiness. During thewhole season she wore a brown silk dressing-gown with velvet borders ofthe same colour, a large garment, which united the indolence of herattitudes and her grave physiognomy. Besides, she had just reached theautumnal period of womanhood, in which reflection is combined withtenderness, in which the beginning of maturity colours the face with amore intense flame, when strength of feeling mingles with experience oflife, and when, having completely expanded, the entire being overflowswith a richness in harmony with its beauty. Never had she possessed moresweetness, more leniency. Secure in the thought that she would not err,she abandoned herself to a sentiment which seemed to her won by hersorrows. And, moreover, it was so innocent and fresh! What an abyss laybetween the coarseness of Arnoux and the adoration of Frederick!

  He trembled at the thought that by an imprudent word he might lose allthat he had gained, saying to himself that an opportunity might be foundagain, but that a foolish step could never be repaired. He wished thatshe should give herself rather than that he should take her. Theassurance of being loved by her delighted him like a foretaste ofpossession, and then the charm of her person troubled his heart morethan his senses. It was an indefinable feeling of bliss, a sort ofintoxication that made him lose sight of the possibility of having hishappiness completed. Apart from her, he was consumed with longing.

  Ere long the conversations were interrupted by long spells of silence.Sometimes a species of sexual shame made them blush in each other'spresence. All the precautions they took to hide their love only unveiledit; the stronger it grew, the more constrained they became in manner.The effect of this dissimulation was to intensify their sensibility.They experienced a sensation of delight at the odour of moist leaves;they could not endure the east wind; they got irritated without anyapparent cause, and had melancholy forebodings. The sound of a footstep,the creaking of the wainscoting, filled them with as much terror as ifthey had been guilty. They felt as if they were being pushed towards theedge of a chasm. They were surrounded by a tempestuous atmosphere; andwhen complaints escaped Frederick's lips, she made accusations againstherself.

  "Yes, I am doing wrong. I am acting as if I were a coquette! Don't comeany more!"

  Then he would repeat the same oaths, to which on each occasion shelistened with renewed pleasure.

  His return to Paris, and the fuss occasioned by New Year's Day,interrupted their meetings to some extent. When he returned, he had anair of greater self-confidence. Every moment she went out to giveorders, and in spite of his entreaties she received every visitor thatcalled during the evening.

  After this, they engaged in conversations about Leotade, M. Guizot, thePope, the insurrection at Palermo, and the banquet of the TwelfthArrondissement, which had caused some disquietude. Frederick eased hismind by railing against Power, for he longed, like Deslauriers, to turnthe whole world upside down, so soured had he now become. Madame Arnoux,on her side, had become sad.

  Her husband, indulging in displays of wild folly, was flirting with oneof the girls in his pottery works, the one who was known as "the girlfrom Bordeaux." Madame Arnoux was herself informed about it byFrederick. He wanted to make use of it as an argument, "inasmuch as shewas the victim of deception."

  "Oh! I'm not much concerned about it," she said.

  This admission on her part seemed to him to strengthen the intimacybetween them. Would Arnoux be seized with mistrust with regard to them?

  "No! not now!"

  She told him that, one evening, he had left them talking together, andhad afterwards come back again and listened behind the door, and as theyboth were chatting at the time of matters that were of no consequence,he had lived since then in a state of complete security.

  "With good reason, too--is that not so?" said Frederick bitterly.

  "Yes, no doubt!"

  It would have been better for him not to have given so risky an answer.

  One day she was not at home at the hour when he usually called. To himthere seemed to be a sort of treason in this.

  He was next displeased at seeing the flowers which he used to bring heralways placed in a glass of water.

  "Where, then, would you like me to put them?"

  "Oh! not there! However, they are not so cold there as they would benear your heart!"

  Not long afterwards he reproached her for having been at the Italianopera the night before without having given him a previous intimation ofher intention to go there. Others had seen, admired, fallen in love withher, perhaps; Frederick was fastening on those suspicions of his merelyin order to pick a quarrel with her, to torment her; for he wasbeginning to hate her, and the very least he might expect was that sheshould share in his sufferings!

  One afternoon, towards the middle of February, he surprised her in astate of great mental excitement. Eugene had been complaining about hissore throat. The doctor had told her, however, that it was a triflingailment--a bad cold, an attack of influenza. Frederick was astonished atthe child's stupefied look. Nevertheless, he reassured the mother, andbrought forward the cases of several children of the same age who hadbeen attacked with similar ailments, and had been speedily cured.

  "Really?"

  "Why, yes, assuredly!"

  "Oh! how good you are!"

  And she caught his hand. He clasped hers tightly in his.

  "Oh! let it go!"

  "What does it signify, when it is to one who sympathises with you thatyou offer it? You place every confidence in me when I speak of thesethings, but you distrust me when I talk to you about my love!"

  "I don't doubt you on that point, my poor friend!"

  "Why this distrust, as if I were a wretch capable of abusing----"

  "Oh! no!----"

  "If I had only a proof!----"

  "What proof?"

  "The proof that a person might give to the first comer--what you havegranted to myself!"

  And he recalled to her recollection how, on one occasion, they had goneout together, on a winter's twilight, when there was a fog. This seemednow a long time ago. What, then, was to prevent her from showing herselfon his arm before the whole world without any fear on her part, andwithout any mental reservation on his, not having anyone around them whocould importune them?

  "Be it so!" she said, with a promptness of decision that at firstastonished Frederick.

  But he replied, in a lively fashion:

  "Would you like me to wait at the corner of the Rue Tronchet and the Ruede la Ferme?"

  "Good heavens, my
friend!" faltered Madame Arnoux.

  Without giving her time to reflect, he added:

  "Next Tuesday, I suppose?"

  "Tuesday?"

  "Yes, between two and three o'clock."

  "I will be there!"

  And she turned aside her face with a movement of shame. Frederickplaced his lips on the nape of her neck.

  "Oh! this is not right," she said. "You will make me repent."

  He turned away, dreading the fickleness which is customary with women.Then, on the threshold, he murmured softly, as if it were a thing thatwas thoroughly understood:

  "On Tuesday!"

  She lowered her beautiful eyes in a cautious and resigned fashion.

  Frederick had a plan arranged in his mind.

  He hoped that, owing to the rain or the sun, he might get her to stopunder some doorway, and that, once there, she would go into some house.The difficulty was to find one that would suit.

  He made a search, and about the middle of the Rue Tronchet he read, at adistance on a signboard, "Furnished apartments."

  The waiter, divining his object, showed him immediately above theground-floor a room and a closet with two exits. Frederick took it for amonth, and paid in advance. Then he went into three shops to buy therarest perfumery. He got a piece of imitation guipure, which was toreplace the horrible red cotton foot-coverlets; he selected a pair ofblue satin slippers, only the fear of appearing coarse checked theamount of his purchases. He came back with them; and with more devotionthan those who are erecting processional altars, he altered the positionof the furniture, arranged the curtains himself, put heather in thefireplace, and covered the chest of drawers with violets. He would haveliked to pave the entire apartment with gold. "To-morrow is the time,"said he to himself. "Yes, to-morrow! I am not dreaming!" and he felt hisheart throbbing violently under the delirious excitement begotten by hisanticipations. Then, when everything was ready, he carried off the keyin his pocket, as if the happiness which slept there might have flownaway along with it.

  A letter from his mother was awaiting him when he reached his abode:

  "Why such a long absence? Your conduct is beginning to look ridiculous.I understand your hesitating more or less at first with regard to thisunion. However, think well upon it."

  And she put the matter before him with the utmost clearness: an incomeof forty-five thousand francs. However, "people were talking about it;"and M. Roque was waiting for a definite answer. As for the young girl,her position was truly most embarrassing.

  "She is deeply attached to you."

  Frederick threw aside the letter even before he had finished reading it,and opened another epistle which came from Deslauriers.

  "Dear Old Boy,--The _pear_ is ripe. In accordance with your promise, wemay count on you. We meet to-morrow at daybreak, in the Place duPantheon. Drop into the Cafe Soufflot. It is necessary for me to have achat with you before the manifestation takes place."

  "Oh! I know them, with their manifestations! A thousand thanks! I have amore agreeable appointment."

  And on the following morning, at eleven o'clock, Frederick had left thehouse. He wanted to give one last glance at the preparations. Then, whocould tell but that, by some chance or other, she might be at the placeof meeting before him? As he emerged from the Rue Tronchet, he heard agreat clamour behind the Madeleine. He pressed forward, and saw at thefar end of the square, to the left, a number of men in blouses andwell-dressed people.

  In fact, a manifesto published in the newspapers had summoned to thisspot all who had subscribed to the banquet of the Reform Party. TheMinistry had, almost without a moment's delay, posted up a proclamationprohibiting the meeting. The Parliamentary Opposition had, on theprevious evening, disclaimed any connection with it; but the patriots,who were unaware of this resolution on the part of their leaders, hadcome to the meeting-place, followed by a great crowd of spectators. Adeputation from the schools had made its way, a short time before, tothe house of Odillon Barrot. It was now at the residence of the Ministerfor Foreign Affairs; and nobody could tell whether the banquet wouldtake place, whether the Government would carry out its threat, andwhether the National Guards would make their appearance. People were asmuch enraged against the deputies as against Power. The crowd wasgrowing bigger and bigger, when suddenly the strains of the"Marseillaise" rang through the air.

  It was the students' column which had just arrived on the scene. Theymarched along at an ordinary walking pace, in double file and in goodorder, with angry faces, bare hands, and all exclaiming at intervals:

  "Long live Reform! Down with Guizot!"

  Frederick's friends were there, sure enough. They would have noticed himand dragged him along with them. He quickly sought refuge in the Rue del'Arcade.

  When the students had taken two turns round the Madeleine, they wentdown in the direction of the Place de la Concorde. It was full ofpeople; and, at a distance, the crowd pressed close together, had theappearance of a field of dark ears of corn swaying to and fro.

  At the same moment, some soldiers of the line ranged themselves inbattle-array at the left-hand side of the church.

  The groups remained standing there, however. In order to put an end tothis, some police-officers in civilian dress seized the most riotous ofthem in a brutal fashion, and carried them off to the guard-house.Frederick, in spite of his indignation, remained silent; he might havebeen arrested along with the others, and he would have missed MadameArnoux.

  A little while afterwards the helmets of the Municipal Guards appeared.They kept striking about them with the flat side of their sabres. Ahorse fell down. The people made a rush forward to save him, and as soonas the rider was in the saddle, they all ran away.

  Then there was a great silence. The thin rain, which had moistened theasphalt, was no longer falling. Clouds floated past, gently swept on bythe west wind.

  Frederick began running through the Rue Tronchet, looking before him andbehind him.

  At length it struck two o'clock.

  "Ha! now is the time!" said he to himself. "She is leaving her house;she is approaching," and a minute after, "she would have had time to behere."

  Up to three he tried to keep quiet. "No, she is not going to be late--alittle patience!"

  And for want of something to do he examined the most interesting shopsthat he passed--a bookseller's, a saddler's and a mourning warehouse.Soon he knew the names of the different books, the various kinds ofharness, and every sort of material. The persons who looked after theseestablishments, from seeing him continually going backwards andforwards, were at first surprised, and then alarmed, and they closed uptheir shop-fronts.

  No doubt she had met with some impediment, and for that reason she mustbe enduring pain on account of it. But what delight would be afforded ina very short time! For she would come--that was certain. "She has givenme her promise!" In the meantime an intolerable feeling of anxiety wasgradually seizing hold of him. Impelled by an absurd idea, he returnedto his hotel, as if he expected to find her there. At the same moment,she might have reached the street in which their meeting was to takeplace. He rushed out. Was there no one? And he resumed his tramp up anddown the footpath.

  He stared at the gaps in the pavement, the mouths of the gutters, thecandelabra, and the numbers above the doors. The most trifling objectsbecame for him companions, or rather, ironical spectators, and theregular fronts of the houses seemed to him to have a pitiless aspect. Hewas suffering from cold feet. He felt as if he were about to succumb tothe dejection which was crushing him. The reverberation of his footstepsvibrated through his brain.

  When he saw by his watch that it was four o'clock, he experienced, as itwere, a sense of vertigo, a feeling of dismay. He tried to repeat someverses to himself, to enter on a calculation, no matter of what sort, toinvent some kind of story. Impossible! He was beset by the image ofMadame Arnoux; he felt a longing to run in order to meet her. But whatroad ought he to take so that they might not pass each other?

  He went up to
a messenger, put five francs into his hand, and orderedhim to go to the Rue de Paradis to Jacques Arnoux's residence to enquire"if Madame were at home." Then he took up his post at the corner of theRue de la Ferme and of the Rue Tronchet, so as to be able to look downboth of them at the same time. On the boulevard, in the background ofthe scene in front of him, confused masses of people were gliding past.He could distinguish, every now and then, the aigrette of a dragoon or awoman's hat; and he strained his eyes in the effort to recognise thewearer. A child in rags, exhibiting a jack-in-the-box, asked him, with asmile, for alms.

  The man with the velvet vest reappeared. "The porter had not seen hergoing out." What had kept her in? If she were ill he would have beentold about it. Was it a visitor? Nothing was easier than to say that shewas not at home. He struck his forehead.

  "Ah! I am stupid! Of course, 'tis this political outbreak that preventedher from coming!"

  He was relieved by this apparently natural explanation. Then, suddenly:"But her quarter of the city is quiet." And a horrible doubt seized holdof his mind: "Suppose she was not coming at all, and merely gave me apromise in order to get rid of me? No, no!" What had prevented her fromcoming was, no doubt, some extraordinary mischance, one of thoseoccurrences that baffled all one's anticipations. In that case she wouldhave written to him.

  And he sent the hotel errand-boy to his residence in the Rue Rumfort tofind out whether there happened to be a letter waiting for him there.

  No letter had been brought. This absence of news reassured him.

  He drew omens from the number of coins which he took up in his hand outof his pocket by chance, from the physiognomies of the passers-by, andfrom the colour of different horses; and when the augury wasunfavourable, he forced himself to disbelieve in it. In his suddenoutbursts of rage against Madame Arnoux, he abused her in mutteringtones. Then came fits of weakness that nearly made him swoon, followed,all of a sudden, by fresh rebounds of hopefulness. She would make herappearance presently! She was there, behind his back! He turnedround--there was nobody there! Once he perceived, about thirty pacesaway, a woman of the same height, with a dress of the same kind. He cameup to her--it was not she. It struck five--half-past five--six. Thegas-lamps were lighted, Madame Arnoux had not come.

  The night before, she had dreamed that she had been, for some time, onthe footpath in the Rue Tronchet. She was waiting there for somethingthe nature of which she was not quite clear about, but which,nevertheless, was of great importance; and, without knowing why, she wasafraid of being seen. But a pestiferous little dog kept barking at herfuriously and biting at the hem of her dress. Every time she shook himoff he returned stubbornly to the attack, always barking more violentlythan before. Madame Arnoux woke up. The dog's barking continued. Shestrained her ears to listen. It came from her son's room. She rushed tothe spot in her bare feet. It was the child himself who was coughing.His hands were burning, his face flushed, and his voice singularlyhoarse. Every minute he found it more difficult to breathe freely. Shewaited there till daybreak, bent over the coverlet watching him.

  At eight o'clock the drum of the National Guard gave warning to M.Arnoux that his comrades were expecting his arrival. He dressed himselfquickly and went away, promising that he would immediately be passingthe house of their doctor, M. Colot.

  At ten o'clock, when M. Colot did not make his appearance, Madame Arnouxdespatched her chambermaid for him. The doctor was away in the country;and the young man who was taking his place had gone out on somebusiness.

  Eugene kept his head on one side on the bolster with contracted eyebrowsand dilated nostrils. His pale little face had become whiter than thesheets; and there escaped from his larynx a wheezing caused by hisoppressed breathing, which became gradually shorter, dryer, and moremetallic. His cough resembled the noise made by those barbarousmechanical inventions by which toy-dogs are enabled to bark.

  Madame Arnoux was seized with terror. She rang the bell violently,calling out for help, and exclaiming:

  "A doctor! a doctor!"

  Ten minutes later came an elderly gentleman in a white tie, and withgrey whiskers well trimmed. He put several questions as to the habits,the age, and the constitution of the young patient, and studied thecase with his head thrown back. He next wrote out a prescription.

  The calm manner of this old man was intolerable. He smelt of aromatics.She would have liked to beat him. He said he would come back in theevening.

  The horrible coughing soon began again. Sometimes the child arosesuddenly. Convulsive movements shook the muscles of his breast; and inhis efforts to breathe his stomach shrank in as if he were suffocatingafter running too hard. Then he sank down, with his head thrown back andhis mouth wide open. With infinite pains, Madame Arnoux tried to makehim swallow the contents of the phials, hippo wine, and a potioncontaining trisulphate of antimony. But he pushed away the spoon,groaning in a feeble voice. He seemed to be blowing out his words.

  From time to time she re-read the prescription. The observations of theformulary frightened her. Perhaps the apothecary had made some mistake.Her powerlessness filled her with despair. M. Colot's pupil arrived.

  He was a young man of modest demeanour, new to medical work, and he madeno attempt to disguise his opinion about the case. He was at firstundecided as to what he should do, for fear of compromising himself, andfinally he ordered pieces of ice to be applied to the sick child. Ittook a long time to get ice. The bladder containing the ice burst. Itwas necessary to change the little boy's shirt. This disturbance broughton an attack of even a more dreadful character than any of the previousones.

  The child began tearing off the linen round his neck, as if he wanted toremove the obstacle that was choking him; and he scratched the walls andseized the curtains of his bedstead, trying to get a point of support toassist him in breathing.

  His face was now of a bluish hue, and his entire body, steeped in a coldperspiration, appeared to be growing lean. His haggard eyes were fixedwith terror on his mother. He threw his arms round her neck, and hungthere in a desperate fashion; and, repressing her rising sobs, she gaveutterance in a broken voice to loving words:

  "Yes, my pet, my angel, my treasure!"

  Then came intervals of calm.

  She went to look for playthings--a punchinello, a collection of images,and spread them out on the bed in order to amuse him. She even made anattempt to sing.

  She began to sing a little ballad which she used to sing years before,when she was nursing him wrapped up in swaddling-clothes in this samelittle upholstered chair. But a shiver ran all over his frame, just aswhen a wave is agitated by the wind. The balls of his eyes protruded.She thought he was going to die, and turned away her eyes to avoidseeing him.

  The next moment she felt strength enough in her to look at him. He wasstill living. The hours succeeded each other--dull, mournful,interminable, hopeless, and she no longer counted the minutes, save bythe progress of this mental anguish. The shakings of his chest threw himforward as if to shatter his body. Finally, he vomited somethingstrange, which was like a parchment tube. What was this? She fanciedthat he had evacuated one end of his entrails. But he now began tobreathe freely and regularly. This appearance of well-being frightenedher more than anything else that had happened. She was sitting like onepetrified, her arms hanging by her sides, her eyes fixed, when M. Colotsuddenly made his appearance. The child, in his opinion, was saved.

  She did not realise what he meant at first, and made him repeat thewords. Was not this one of those consoling phrases which were customarywith medical men? The doctor went away with an air of tranquillity. Thenit seemed as if the cords that pressed round her heart were loosened.

  "Saved! Is this possible?"

  Suddenly the thought of Frederick presented itself to her mind in aclear and inexorable fashion. It was a warning sent to her byProvidence. But the Lord in His mercy had not wished to complete herchastisement. What expiation could she offer hereafter if she were topersevere in this love-affair? No doubt insults would
be flung at herson's head on her account; and Madame Arnoux saw him a young man,wounded in a combat, carried off on a litter, dying. At one spring shethrew herself on the little chair, and, letting her soul escape towardsthe heights of heaven, she vowed to God that she would sacrifice, as aholocaust, her first real passion, her only weakness as a woman.

  Frederick had returned home. He remained in his armchair, without evenpossessing enough of energy to curse her. A sort of slumber fell uponhim, and, in the midst of his nightmare, he could hear the rain falling,still under the impression that he was there outside on the footpath.

  Next morning, yielding to an incapacity to resist the temptation whichclung to him, he again sent a messenger to Madame Arnoux's house.

  Whether the true explanation happened to be that the fellow did notdeliver his message, or that she had too many things to say to explainherself in a word or two, the same answer was brought back. Thisinsolence was too great! A feeling of angry pride took possession ofhim. He swore in his own mind that he would never again cherish even adesire; and, like a group of leaves carried away by a hurricane, hislove disappeared. He experienced a sense of relief, a feeling of stoicaljoy, then a need of violent action; and he walked on at random throughthe streets.

  Men from the faubourgs were marching past armed with guns and oldswords, some of them wearing red caps, and all singing the"Marseillaise" or the "Girondins." Here and there a National Guard washurrying to join his mayoral department. Drums could be heard rolling inthe distance. A conflict was going on at Porte Saint-Martin. There wassomething lively and warlike in the air. Frederick kept walking onwithout stopping. The excitement of the great city made him gay.

  On the Frascati hill he got a glimpse of the Marechale's windows: a wildidea occurred to him, a reaction of youthfulness. He crossed theboulevard.

  The yard-gate was just being closed; and Delphine, who was in the act ofwriting on it with a piece of charcoal, "Arms given," said to him in aneager tone:

  "Ah! Madame is in a nice state! She dismissed a groom who insulted herthis morning. She thinks there's going to be pillage everywhere. She isfrightened to death! and the more so as Monsieur has gone!"

  "What Monsieur?"

  "The Prince!"

  Frederick entered the boudoir. The Marechale appeared in her petticoat,and her hair hanging down her back in disorder.

  "Ah! thanks! You are going to save me! 'tis the second time! You are oneof those who never count the cost!"

  "A thousand pardons!" said Frederick, catching her round the waist withboth hands.

  "How now? What are you doing?" stammered the Marechale, at the sametime, surprised and cheered up by his manner.

  He replied:

  "I am the fashion! I'm reformed!"

  She let herself fall back on the divan, and continued laughing under hiskisses.

  They spent the afternoon looking out through the window at the people inthe street. Then he brought her to dine at the Trois Freres Provencaux.The meal was a long and dainty one. They came back on foot for want of avehicle.

  At the announcement of a change of Ministry, Paris had changed. Everyonewas in a state of delight. People kept promenading about the streets,and every floor was illuminated with lamps, so that it seemed as if itwere broad daylight. The soldiers made their way back to their barracks,worn out and looking quite depressed. The people saluted them withexclamations of "Long live the Line!"

  They went on without making any response. Among the National Guard, onthe contrary, the officers, flushed with enthusiasm, brandished theirsabres, vociferating:

  "Long live Reform!"

  And every time the two lovers heard this word they laughed.

  Frederick told droll stories, and was quite gay.

  Making their way through the Rue Duphot, they reached the boulevards.Venetian lanterns hanging from the houses formed wreaths of flame.Underneath, a confused swarm of people kept in constant motion. In themidst of those moving shadows could be seen, here and there, the steelyglitter of bayonets. There was a great uproar. The crowd was toocompact, and it was impossible to make one's way back in a straightline. They were entering the Rue Caumartin, when suddenly there burstforth behind them a noise like the crackling made by an immense piece ofsilk in the act of being torn across. It was the discharge of musketryon the Boulevard des Capucines.

  "Ha! a few of the citizens are getting a crack," said Frederick calmly;for there are situations in which a man of the least cruel dispositionis so much detached from his fellow-men that he would see the entirehuman race perishing without a single throb of the heart.

  The Marechale was clinging to his arm with her teeth chattering. Shedeclared that she would not be able to walk twenty steps further. Then,by a refinement of hatred, in order the better to offer an outrage inhis own soul to Madame Arnoux, he led Rosanette to the hotel in the RueTronchet, and brought her up to the room which he had got ready for theother.

  The flowers were not withered. The guipure was spread out on the bed. Hedrew forth from the cupboard the little slippers. Rosanette consideredthis forethought on his part a great proof of his delicacy of sentiment.About one o'clock she was awakened by distant rolling sounds, and shesaw that he was sobbing with his head buried in the pillow.

  "What's the matter with you now, my own darling?"

  "'Tis the excess of happiness," said Frederick. "I have been too longyearning after you!"