creature!"
"On the contrary, it seems that she sent word to Gustave's uncle, to
come to take him away."
"What business was it of hers?"
"The uncle came and compelled his nephew to go with him; I was left
alone. I had drunk quite a lot of punch; I had looked in at a wedding
party on the floor above yours. As I came from that party, heated by
dancing, and still thinking of my disconsolate friend, I caught sight of
you, and I let slip that remark; which I retract to-day, and offer a
thousand apologies for making it."
"You are freely forgiven. So Gustave had nothing to do with the duel?"
"He knew absolutely nothing about it until he returned from Spain."
"Do you know where he is now?"
"Alas, no! In Prussia, I believe. I have been several times to ask; but
he has an uncle who is the most disagreeable man you can imagine! If he
weren't so closely connected with my friend, I would have run him
through before this. Still, Gustave must return some time; I am on the
watch for him."
"When you hear anything about him, it will be very kind of you to let me
know. This is my new address."
"Be sure, madame, that I shall be only too happy to prove my zeal."
"Adieu, Monsieur Cherami!"
"Madame, accept my most respectful homage.--I don't know whether she is
sincerely fond of Gustave," thought Cherami, as the charming widow left
him, "but it is certain that she is burning to see him again."
XLII
ORESTES AND PYLADES
Fanny had been a widow more than six months, when, as Cherami was
approaching Monsieur Grandcourt's abode one morning, he saw Gustave come
out. He uttered a joyful exclamation, and hastened to throw his arms
about the young traveller, crying:
"_Tandem_! _denique_! here he is at last! this is good luck, indeed!
Damnation! you've been away a long while, but we will hope that it's the
last time."
"Good-day, my dear Arthur!" said Gustave, as they shook hands. "Were you
coming to see my uncle?"
"Your uncle! Sapristi! he's a dear creature, is your uncle; let's talk
about something else. Why, I have been here a hundred times; I wanted to
get your address, so that I could write to you or come after you; but it
was impossible to obtain the slightest information from your uncle. When
did you return?"
"Last night, at nine o'clock. But why were you so anxious to know where
I was? What had you to tell me that was so important?"
"Hasn't your uncle told you anything?"
"We had a talk this morning, on business; that's all."
"Ah! the old fox! there's no danger that he would tell you what
interested you most."
"Then do you tell me, quickly, Cherami."
"Your former passion, that little woman you loved so dearly----"
"Fanny! Great God! is she dead?"
"No, no! she's not dead; she's in bewitching health, she's just as
pretty as ever, and more than that--she's a widow."
"A widow! Great heaven! can it be possible?"
"It's more than possible, it's so. Her husband speculated in stocks, and
ruined himself; then, _crac_! a pistol-shot--you understand."
"Oh! what a calamity! Why, it's perfectly ghastly; how long ago was it?"
"Almost immediately after you went away."
"Poor Fanny! she expected to find her happiness in that marriage; how
she must have grieved! how bitterly she must have wept!"
"My dear Gustave, you don't know that young woman at all. She has very
great strength of character; she received the news of her husband's
death with a stoical courage worthy of the Spartan women who sent their
sons to war, bidding them to return as victors or not at all."
"How do you know that, Cherami?"
"Pardieu! because it was I to whom her husband confided his last wishes
and the mission of informing his wife of his death."
"To you! you who fought a duel with him?"
"Precisely! that duel made us the best friends in the world. I will tell
you all about it in detail another time. Let it suffice for the present,
that the young widow, who is already thoroughly consoled, does not cease
to talk about you, to ask about you, and to inquire whether you will
return soon."
"Is that true? you are not deceiving me? Fanny thinks of me?"
"It is as I have the honor to tell you, and, between ourselves, I
believe that she never really loved her husband--which explains why she
wasted so little regret on him."
"All that you tell me surprises me so that I can't collect my thoughts.
Fanny widowed! Fanny free!"
"Yes, widowed, and more than six months passed already! By the way,--and
this is the first question I should have asked you,--do you still love
her?"
"Do I still love her! Ah! my dear Arthur, can you doubt it?"
"It seems to me that you have had plenty of time and a perfect right to
forget her. I seem to recall that that was your hope when you went
away."
"That may be; but I have not been able to do it. I tried to distract my
thoughts, to fall in love with other women. One day, I fancied that I
was; but the illusion soon vanished; and then, the last time I met
Fanny, she was so sweet with me that the memory of that occasion was not
well calculated to destroy my love."
"Then you love her? you are sure of it?"
"Nonsense, my dear fellow! why do you ask me that?"
"Oh! because I had thought of something else; and if you were no longer
in love with the widow---- But, as you are still daft over her, why,
that's at an end; and I believe that things will go on now to suit you."
"I am going to see Adolphine, Fanny's sister, to-day."
"Why shouldn't you go to see Fanny herself? I should say that that would
be the shortest way. I can give you her address."
"Oh! you can't mean that, my friend! that I should go to that young
widow's house at once--I, who have not been to see her since her
marriage! It wouldn't be proper. She must give me permission first."
"But, as she urged you to call on her when she was a married woman, it
seems to me that she can afford to receive you now that she's a widow."
"To be sure, but not right away; I must see her first, at her father's.
She must go there often, now?"
"I should rather see you go to the little widow's than to her father's."
"Why so?"
"Why, indeed! That's the sequel of the idea I spoke about just now.
However, do as you think best; the main point is that you have come in
time, and that you should stay in Paris; because I am horribly bored
while you are away. On my word, I seem to miss something."
"Dear Arthur! I am really touched by the interest you take in everything
that concerns me.--And yourself, my friend--are you happy, are you doing
well in business?"
"I can't do badly, because I do no business at all. I am
content--because I am a philosopher! I am happy--when I have my cue; but
I haven't had it for some time."
"I'll bet that you have no money."
"You would win very often if you made that bet."
"And you didn't say a word about it! Am I no longer your friend?"
"My dear Gustave, you overwhelm me;--but I owe you something now,
and----"
"What does that matter? Do friends keep accounts with one another? Isn't
he who can oblige the other the happier?"
"Damme! if all my friends of the old days had been of your way of
thinking!"
Gustave produced his wallet, took out a banknote, and thrust it into
Cherami's hand, saying:
"Here, my good friend, take this; and when it's all gone, tell me so.
Now, adieu! I must leave you and go to Monsieur Gerbault's; I dine with
my uncle to-day; but if you will dine with me to-morrow, be in front of
the Passage de l'Opera at six o'clock."
"If I will! Par la sambleu! why, it will be a regular fete for me."
"In that case, adieu, until to-morrow!"
When Gustave was a long distance away, Cherami continued to look after
him, saying to himself:
"There goes the pearl of friends; I don't know the pearls upon which
Mesdemoiselles Laurette and Lucie are employed, but a real friend is
worth far more than all the treasures of Golconda, and is much rarer
too. I was on the point of mentioning a certain idea that I have got
into my head relative to little Adolphine, the pretty widow's sister;
but I thought, on reflection, that I should do better to say nothing
about it. What good would it do to tell him that I think poor
Adolphine's in love with him, when he still loves Fanny? It would make
him unhappy, and that's all; he wouldn't dare to go to Papa Gerbault's
to talk about his dear Fanny. I certainly did well to hold my tongue.
Let's see what he slipped into my hand. Generous Gustave! he is quite
capable of loaning me five hundred francs more."
Cherami unfolded the banknote which he held in his hand, and was
thunderstruck when he saw that it was for a thousand francs.
Having satisfied himself that he was not mistaken, Cherami stuffed the
note into his cigar-case, muttering:
"A thousand francs! he gave me a thousand francs, and said: 'When that's
gone, let me know!' Sacrebleu! this unexpected wealth bewilders me. That
young man's behavior touches me; it makes me blush for my own. Come,
Arthur, my good friend, do you propose to continue your dissipation,
your foolish courses? And because you have fallen in with a whole-souled
fellow who gave you money without counting it, are you going to work, as
usual, to waste that money as you wasted your fortune? I say _no_! par
la sambleu! I will not do it; I propose to show myself worthy to be
Gustave's friend. From this day forth, I turn over a new leaf, I become
a reasonable man, I put water in my wine; and, for a beginning, I will
go and dine for thirty-two sous."
While Cherami was forming these excellent resolutions, Gustave betook
himself, without loss of time, to Monsieur Gerbault's house.
Adolphine was alone, trying, by dint of practising diligently on the
piano, to forget for a moment the secret pain which was gnawing at her
heart. Fanny's sister had changed perceptibly in the last few months; a
genuine passion does not leave one unscathed; at nineteen years of age,
such a passion occupies one's every moment, obtrudes itself upon one's
every thought. The girl's features bore traces of her suffering; her
face had grown thin and pale, and constantly wore an expression of
sadness, which she strove, but in vain, to hide beneath a smile in the
presence of others; and her sister's company was not likely to afford
her any distraction, because she talked almost incessantly of the man
whom Adolphine would have been glad to forget.
Madeleine, who had recognized Gustave, did not deem it necessary to
announce him, but allowed him to enter her mistress's apartment, where
he could hear her playing the piano. He went forward softly and stood
behind Adolphine, and several moments passed before she happened to
glance at the mirror over the piano and saw him standing there. A cry
escaped her; she whispered Gustave's name, then a ghastly pallor spread
over her face, and she looked down at the floor.
"Mon Dieu! my dear Adolphine! what's the matter?" cried the young man,
in dismay; "shall I call somebody?"
But Adolphine motioned to him not to go, and shook hands with him,
saying in an uncertain voice:
"It's nothing--the surprise--the excitement; I was so unprepared to see
you! But it's all gone.--So you are at home again, Monsieur Gustave?"
"Yes, my good little sister. So you didn't expect me, eh? You had
forgotten all about me?"
"Oh! I don't say that; on the contrary, it seemed to me that you were
staying away a long while this time."
"I have been away nearly seven months; and during that time, I
understand that--many things have happened here."
"Ah! you know?"
"Yes, I know that your sister is a widow."
"Who has told you that, so soon?"
"Cherami; you know, the man who was with me the day of----"
"Oh, yes! I know him; it was he, too, who came to tell us the fatal news
of poor Auguste's death; for, I don't know how it happens, but your
Monsieur Cherami succeeds in having his finger in everything; everybody
takes him for a confidant.--When did you return?"
"Only last evening."
"It was very nice of you to think of coming here. Father is out, but he
will be at home soon."
"Good! for I shall be very glad to talk with him. I trust that he won't
think it improper for me to come here now, as he did before?"
Adolphine could not restrain a nervous gesture as she replied:
"Ah! so you want to come to see us again? Yes--I understand--you are no
longer afraid to meet Fanny."
"Do you think that I ought to avoid her presence still? tell me, dear
Adolphine!"
"I? Oh! I don't think anything about it. Why should you suppose that I
think that? I can't read your heart, you see, and I have no idea whether
it still entertains the same sentiments as before."
"Ah! I can safely tell you, who have always treated me like a brother;
indeed, why should I make a mystery of it, anyway? Yes, I love Fanny as
dearly as ever, her image has not ceased for a single day to be present
in my thoughts. My love, although hopeless, has never changed. Judge,
then, whether I can cease to love her, now that I am once more at
liberty to anticipate happiness in the future!"
Adolphine passed her hand across her brow and made an effort to retain
her self-possession, as she replied:
"Ah! it's a fine thing to love like that, with a constancy which time
and absence have failed to shake! It's a fine thing; and a woman could
not love you too well to recompense a passion as true and pure as
yours!"
"Now, that we are alone, tell me, dear Adolphine, do you think that
Fanny will receive me kindly? Do you think that my constancy will touch
her? that her heart will be moved by it? Ambition and the wish to cut a
figure in the world caused her to prefer Monsieur Monleard to me. I can
readily forgive her, young as she was, for listening to vanity rather
than love--for I fancy that she never had much love for her husband."
"Oh, no! I don't think that she had, either."
"In that case, his death cannot have caused her a very deep grief?"
"She regretted his fortune, that's all."
"What are her means now?"
"Twenty-five hundred francs a year. My father asked her to come to live
with us, but she preferred to have a home of her own."
"Twenty-five hundred francs! That's very little for one who has kept her
carriage."
"It's quite enough for one whose happiness doesn't depend on money."
"You think so, Adolphine, because you haven't your sister's tastes; but
all women aren't like you. Fanny loves society; she's a bit of a
coquette, perhaps--that's a very pardonable fault. Thank heaven! I am so
placed now that I can gratify the tastes of the woman whom I marry. I
earn ten thousand francs a year; she will not be able to have horses in
her stable and carriages in her carriage-house, but she will not be
obliged to walk when she doesn't want to.--You don't answer me,
Adolphine--do you think Fanny will consent to be my wife?"
"Oh! now that you earn ten thousand francs a year, she will smile on
your suit, no doubt."
Gustave sighed, as he rejoined in a lower tone:
"Then, if I couldn't offer her that, she would refuse me again? That's
what you mean to imply, isn't it?"
"No, no! Mon Dieu! Monsieur Gustave, I didn't mean to hurt you; I did
wrong to say that. Fanny must love you--why shouldn't she love you? It
would be awfully ungrateful of her not to--when you have given her
abundant proof of so much love and constancy--and have forgiven her for
the sorrow she caused you. Certainly she loves you; you will be happy
with her; but--you see--I can't bear to talk about it all the
time--because it worries me--it makes me uneasy--for you. Mon Dieu! I am
all confused."
Gustave scrutinized the girl more closely, then exclaimed:
"Why, I hadn't noticed before! How you have changed; how thin you are!
Have you been ill, my little sister?"
"Ah! you notice it now, do you? Why, no, I am not ill; nothing's the
matter with me; I don't know why I should change."
"Are you in pain?"
Adolphine raised her lovely eyes, as if appealing to heaven, as she
replied:
"No, I have no pain."
"I can't have you sick! I insist upon your recovering your fine, healthy
color of the old days; and now that I have returned, I will look after
your health."
"Thanks! thanks! you will come to see us often, then?"
"I hope to do so; and your sister--does she come here often?"
"Thursdays, because we receive then; occasionally on other days."
Monsieur Gerbault's arrival put an end to this conversation. He greeted
Gustave cordially, and the young man made no secret of the pleasure it
would give him to come frequently to the house; he did not mention
Fanny, preferring not to begin to talk of his renewed hopes at their
very first meeting; but he adroitly found a way to make known his
financial position, which would enable him, if he married, to offer an
attractive prospect to the woman who should bear his name.
Now that his oldest daughter was a widow, Monsieur Gerbault saw no
impropriety in Gustave's meeting her; and he was the first to urge the
young man to come to his house at his pleasure, as before. Gustave was
enchanted; he pressed Monsieur Gerbault's hand, then Adolphine's, and
took his leave without noticing that the latter's depression had become
more marked than ever.
XLIII
A COMPLETE REFORMATION
The next evening, at six o'clock, Cherami, dressed with an elegance
which made of him once more the stylish beau of former days, was walking
near the Passage de l'Opera. Several of his former boon companions, who
had ceased to bow to him since he had worn a threadbare coat, had
stopped when they caught sight of him and acted as if they would accost
him; but Cherami at once turned on his heel, saying to himself:
"Go your way, canaille! I know what you amount to, my fine fellows! You
wouldn't look at me when I was strapped. You recognize me because I am
well dressed. Avaunt! I have had enough of such people!"
Gustave soon appeared; he could not restrain an exclamation of surprise
as he gazed at the man who could once more call himself Beau Arthur.
"Sapristi! my dear fellow! Pray excuse these manifestations of
surprise," said Gustave; "but, upon my word, at first glance I didn't
recognize you. You are superb--I don't exaggerate; no one could wear
handsome clothes more gracefully."
"That's a relic of early habit."
"Why have you gotten yourself up so finely?"
"It was the least I could do to show my respect for such a friend as
you."
"Let us go and dine, and we will talk."
"I am at your service."
The gentlemen entered the Cafe Anglais, and Gustave said to his
companion:
"Order the dinner; you know how to do it."
"Pardon me, but I think I won't order again," said Cherami; "I went
about it like a bull in a china-shop; I don't propose to do it any more;
you do the ordering."
"What does this mean? You, a man who understood life so well!"
"On the contrary, I understood it very ill; and I have changed all
that--a complete reformation; better late than never."
Gustave finally decided to order the dinner; but at every moment his
guest said to him:
"Enough; that's quite enough! and we'll have only one kind of wine."
"Faith! my dear fellow, you may eat and drink what you choose; but I
propose to order to suit myself; I haven't turned hermit, you see."
"Go on, you are the master. I will get drunk, if you insist; it's my
duty to obey you."
Throughout the first course, Cherami put water in his wine, and was very
abstemious.
"I shouldn't know you," said Gustave.
"So much the better! I aim to be unrecognizable; but let us talk of your
affairs: have you been to Papa Gerbault's?"
"Yes; I saw Adolphine, Fanny's younger sister; still, as always, kind
and affectionate and ready to help me."
"I have an idea that she is very affectionate, in truth."
"But I found her very much changed--she is thin, and she has lost her
fresh color. One would say that the girl has some secret sorrow."
"There's nothing impossible in that, poor child! And you told her that
you still love her sister?"
"To be sure; I confided to her all the hopes which Fanny's present
position justified me in forming. Oh! I made no mystery to her of my
love for her sister."
"That must have afforded her a great deal of pleasure!"
"Adolphine takes an interest in my happiness; if she can help me with
Fanny, she will do it, I am sure."
"She is quite capable of it. But, look you, if you take my advice, you
will go directly to the young widow, and not have the little sister for
a constant witness of your love making; it's a dangerous business for a
heart of nineteen years! When one sees others making love, it may arouse
a longing to make love on one's own account."
"My dear Arthur, I ask nothing better than to go to Madame Monleard's;
but I must see her first at her father's, and she must give me
permission to call on her."
"Never fear; she'll give you permission. What about your uncle? have you
spoken to him about the revival of your hopes?"
"No, indeed! he isn't fond of Fanny. There'll be time enough for that
when affairs come to a head."
"By the way, if I want to see you now, where shall I find you? I don't
want to apply to your uncle again; he's an old curmudgeon whom I can't
get along with. He has a way of looking at me! If he hadn't been your
uncle, we should have had it out before this, I promise you."
"My dear fellow, my uncle is a most excellent man, I give you my word;
very just and fair at bottom; a little obstinate when he has formed a
bad opinion of people; but very willing to revise his judgment when you
prove to him that he was wrong."
"A noble trait, that!"
"He has a prejudice against Fanny; he believes her to be incapable of
loving; but when she makes me happy, he will be the first to agree that
he was wrong. As for myself, I have accepted a very nice suite of rooms
in his house, where I shall stay till I marry."
"In your uncle's house! Then no one can see you without his permission?"
"Not so; my apartments are on the second floor, front, entirely separate
from his."
"Does the concierge know you now?"
"Yes, never fear; he knows my name. Come, my good fellow, a glass of
champagne to my love, to my union with Fanny!"
"You insist on drinking champagne?"
"Most certainly."
"Very good, if you insist on it! We might well have been content with
this claret, which is perfect."
"But what is the meaning of this virtuous conduct? what revolution has
taken place in you? who has wrought this miracle?"
"Who? Don't you suspect?"
"Faith, no!"
"Well, it was you, my dear Gustave."
"I? Nonsense!"
"It's the truth, none the less. Twice now, you have obliged me; and with
such tact, such generosity----"
"Oh! I beg you----"
"Sacrebleu! let me speak; I am not talking _blague_ now, and you must
believe me, because I have no reason for lying. I brought myself up with
a sharp turn; I said to myself that, although I am no longer young, I am
not old enough yet to live at other people's expense. In short, I don't
propose to throw money out of window any more.--Better still: I am
conscious now of a desire to do something--to work and occupy my mind. I
used to laugh at clerks, at the men employed in offices; but find me
such a place, my friend, and I promise you that I'll fill it in such a
way that they won't turn me away."
Gustave took Cherami's hand and pressed it warmly.
"This is very well done of you," he said; "I certainly can't blame you
for such good resolutions. If you keep to them, why, I will look about,
and I will find something for you."
"Oh! I shall keep to them; my mind is made up."
"Meanwhile, as one must never carry anything to excess, there's no law
against your drinking champagne, provided you don't get drunk on it."
"Very good; let us drink it, then."
"To my love!"
"To your love! But take my advice, and attend to your business yourself;
don't put it in the little sister's hands any more."
"Do you think her capable of doing me a bad turn with Fanny?"
"No, indeed! God forbid! she loves you too well to do you a bad turn
with anybody. But the result of my experience is that, in love, you
should never employ an ambassador. It's a waste of time."
"I will follow your advice. Thursday, I shall see Fanny at her father's,
and I will ask her permission to call on her."
"In that way," said Cherami to himself, "that poor girl won't have them
making love under her nose, at all events."
XLIV
COQUETRY