sleep, in his position? Only a lover who is not in love. At eight
o'clock, the young man went down to the office, where there were as yet
no clerks; but he found his uncle, who was always at his desk early.
"The deuce!" said Monsieur Grandcourt; "you're on hand in good season!
Was it love of work that woke you?"
"Yes, uncle; I have some accounts to look over."
"How pale you look, and exhausted! One would say that you had been up
all night."
"I am just out of bed."
"I'll wager that you didn't sleep. Is there anything new in your love
affair?"
"Why--no, uncle."
"Your dear Fanny hasn't played you some new trick?"
"Ah! uncle, at the point we have reached----"
"It wouldn't surprise me at all."
"You have a very bad opinion of her."
"When a woman has made a fool of a man once, she will make a fool of him
again--she will always do it! However, it would be better before
marriage than after. Come and breakfast with me."
"It's too early, uncle; I am not hungry. By the way, have you thought
about Arthur?"
"Who's Arthur?"
"Arthur Cherami; a good, honest fellow who is looking for a place."
"Ah! your tall swashbuckler, who has such a scampish look--always ready
to fly at you? Upon my word, you are not fortunate in your friendships!
What sort of a place do you suppose anyone would give to that fellow? He
doesn't inspire the slightest confidence in me. He was rich once, and he
squandered his whole property: a fine recommendation!"
"I believe that you judge him too harshly. A man may have done foolish
things, and have turned over a new leaf. With you, uncle, repentance
counts for nothing."
"Repentance has one great defect in my eyes: it never comes till after
the wrong-doing. If a man could repent before he went wrong, that is to
say, stop before he fell, then I should have a much higher opinion of
repentance. Well, where are you going? leaving the office already?"
Gustave could not keep still. He left the office, and ran all the way to
Fanny's house; then stopped and looked at his watch. It was barely nine
o'clock; impossible to call upon her so early. The young man walked up
Faubourg Poissonniere and kept on past the barrier; little he cared
where he went, so long as the time passed. Suddenly he ran into a tree,
which his complete absorption in his thoughts had prevented his seeing.
At that, he halted and looked about him, and was surprised to find that
he was in the open country. But he felt that the air was keener and
purer there, that it refreshed the mind and calmed the beating of the
heart; and he sat down at the foot of the tree. He breathed more freely,
he felt sensibly relieved. Ah! what a skilful physician the air is, and
what marvellous cures we owe to it!
Gustave sat for a long while at the foot of the tree, which was bare of
leaves; for it was late in October. He reviewed in his mind the whole of
Fanny's conduct during the last two days, and wondered if his uncle were
right after all. At last he rose and returned to Paris. It was nearly
eleven o'clock when he reached the young widow's door. But he could wait
no longer; he rang the bell violently, and the maid ushered him into her
mistress's presence.
XLIX
THE SECOND TIME
Fanny was sitting by the fire, in a dainty morning gown; for she was a
woman who never allowed herself to be surprised in deshabille; but her
expression was cold and stern, as of a person who had made up her mind
and was prepared for a rupture.
"I have come a little early, I fear," said Gustave, taking a seat, and
seeking in vain an affable smile on the widow's features; "but you will
surely forgive my impatience, I was so anxious to see you. I had almost
no chance to speak to you last night, and I had so many things to say!"
"I, too, wished to speak with you, monsieur. I, too, have several things
to say to you."
"_Monsieur!_ What! you call me _monsieur?_ What does that mean?"
"In heaven's name, let us not quibble over words. If I call you
_monsieur_ now, I do so in consequence of certain reflections I have
made since yesterday. Do you know that I don't like to be followed,
spied upon; that a jealous man is an unendurable creature to me?"
"Ah! you are trying to quarrel with me, madame?"
"No, I am not; but I am telling you frankly the subject of my
reflections; and the result of those reflections is----"
"Is what? go on, madame."
"Is that I am afraid that I shall not make you happy, Gustave. I am
naturally giddy, frivolous,--but I cannot change,--and my temperament
would not harmonize at all with yours. Consequently we shall do much
better not to marry. Oh! I have come to this decision solely in my
solicitude for your happiness."
Gustave sprang to his feet so suddenly that the little widow could not
restrain a gesture of terror. He took his stand in front of her, with
folded arms, and gazed sternly at her, saying:
"So this is what you were aiming at--a rupture! And you dare to accuse
me of spying, to try to put me in the wrong! to accuse me, when my
conduct was simply the consequence of your own! Oh! don't think to
deceive me again. Some other motive is behind your action. You have
formed other plans."
"That does not concern you, monsieur! I believe that I am entirely free!
I trust that you will spare me your reproaches. Well-bred people simply
part--they don't quarrel over it."
"Never fear, madame; I shall not forget that you are a woman. But to
play this trick upon me again--ah! it is shameful! Fanny, is it true?
did I hear aright? Only two days ago, you were forming plans with me for
our life to come, your hand pressed mine, you asked me if I would always
love you."
"Justine, bring me some wood; the fire's going out."
The tone in which the young woman summoned her maid, having apparently
paid no heed to Gustave, capped the climax of his exasperation; he
strode up and down the room two or three times, then went to Fanny as if
to give full vent to his wrath; but he checked himself, and, having
bestowed upon her a glance in which were concentrated all his outraged
feelings, he abruptly left the room without looking back.
For several hours thereafter, Gustave was like a madman; he was so
unprepared for the blow, that he could hardly believe in its reality. He
returned home and locked himself in his room; he dreaded to meet his
uncle and hear him say:
"I prophesied what has happened."
He preferred to be alone, so that he could abandon himself to his grief;
and for some time he could not keep from weeping over his lost
happiness, although he told himself that Fanny did not deserve the tears
she caused him to shed. Then he cudgelled his brain to divine what could
have caused this sudden change in her ideas.
He determined to leave Paris again, to go away without a word to anyone;
but the next day he went to see Adolphine, to tell her of his new
unhappiness.
Fanny's sister seemed to be expecting his visit; she held out her hand
as soon as he appeared, saying:
"Poor Gustave! I know all! My sister has disappointed you again! It is
horribly hard!"
"What! you know already that she refuses to marry me! Who can have told
you?"
"Why, she herself; she came here yesterday to tell us that, as soon as
her mourning is at an end, she is going to marry----"
"She is going to marry, you say?"
"Why, didn't you know it?"
"Finish, in God's name! She is going to marry----"
"The Comte de la Beriniere."
Gustave dropped upon a chair, repeating between his teeth:
"The Comte de la Beriniere!"
But there was more surprise than anger in his tone; for, on learning
that it was a man of sixty to whom Fanny gave the preference, he
realized that it was no newborn passion that had caused the change in
her heart.
"So," he exclaimed, after a moment, "that woman is always guided by
selfish considerations! it is a fortune, a title, which she prefers to
me! For this man is rich, I suppose?"
"Yes, very rich! And as Fanny doesn't propose to be left in poverty if
she should be widowed again, it seems that the count settles twenty
thousand francs a year on her when he marries her. But do not believe,
my friend, that we approve her conduct: when she told us of her latest
plan, father told her that the way in which she was treating you was
utterly disgraceful, and that he never wanted to see her again, countess
or no countess."
"And what did she reply?"
"She said that she could not imagine how we could blame her, and she
went away repeating that we cared nothing for her happiness. It seems
that the count had courted her before, and declared that he deeply
regretted her marriage to Auguste. That is why, when she saw him
again----"
"Enough, my dear Adolphine; I don't care to know anything more. I was
mistaken in thinking that she loved me. As if anyone would ever love me!
No; there are some people who were born to love alone, never to meet a
heart that understands them."
"Why do you say that to me, Gustave?"
"Well, what does it matter, after all? a man cannot change his destiny.
Adieu, Adolphine!"
"Are you going away, Gustave? Where are you going?"
"Oh! I don't know, but I feel that I must leave Paris again. I cannot be
here when she marries the count. I am a fool, I know it perfectly well;
your sister deserves no regret; but one does not lose all one's
illusions without suffering. Adieu! give my respects to your father."
"But you won't stay away so long this time, will you? and when you
return, you will be able to come to see me without fear; you won't meet
her here again."
"Yes, you will see me. Adieu!"
Gustave took leave of Adolphine, whose eyes were full of tears as she
looked after him; but he did not understand their language. He went to
his uncle, told him what had happened, and expressed a desire to go to
England and stay there for some time.
Monsieur Grandcourt said simply:
"That woman will end by sending you round the world. But let us hope
that this will be your last trip. Go to England, go where you
please--but don't return unless you are cured of your idiotic passion."
Gustave soon completed his preparations for departure; he had but a few
hours to remain in Paris, when he met Cherami.
"Where are we going so fast?" cried Beau Arthur, taking Gustave's hand.
"What has happened? Our countenance is not so cheerful and happy as it
was the last time? Can it be that anything has happened to interrupt the
course of our loves?"
"My friend," replied Gustave, with a sigh, "there has been a great
change, indeed, in my affairs since we last met. There is to be no
marriage; the love affair is at an end. Fanny has betrayed me again. Ah!
I ought to have expected it! But, no; it is impossible to conceive such
perfidy in a woman who looks at us with a smiling face, who tells us
that she loves us!"
"What's that you say, my boy? The little widow has slipped out of your
hand again? Nonsense, that can't be so!"
"It's the truth. She is going to marry the Comte de la Beriniere, an old
man, but very rich. She is to be a countess--she has no further use for
me."
"Why, this is perfectly frightful! A woman doesn't play skittles like
that with an honest man's heart! And you haven't killed your rival?"
"No; for that wouldn't make Fanny love me any more. But I am going away;
I don't propose to be here again, as I was at her first wedding. No,
indeed; once was enough."
"You are going away? where?"
"To England and Scotland; but I shall not be away so long."
"Sapristi! my dear fellow, don't go away; the affair can be fixed up,
perhaps."
"No, no, it's all over, all over! Fanny will never be mine. Adieu, my
friend! it's almost train time. Au revoir!"
Gustave hurried away, and left Cherami standing there bewildered by his
sudden departure. He seemed lost in thought for a moment, then tapped
his leg with his switch and said:
"Morbleu! my friend Gustave unhappy! the woman he loves snatched away
from him a second time! and I am to endure it! I, his Pylades, to whom
he loans money without taking account of it!--No, par la sambleu! I will
not endure it. Ah! my little widow! you play fast and loose with a fine
fellow like that! You think that you can make fools of people in that
way! But, patience! I am on hand, and I have my cue!"
L
A GENTLEMAN IN BED
About noon the next day, Cherami was walking in front of Madame
Monleard's house.
"I don't know where he perches--this Comte de la Beriniere, whom Gustave
told me about yesterday; but by doing sentry duty in front of this
house, I can't fail to find out; this count will undoubtedly come to pay
his respects to the little woman he's going to marry; he's rich, he will
come in his carriage, and I am an awkward fellow if I can't learn the
master's address from a servant."
Everything happened as Cherami had anticipated: about one o'clock, a
stylish coupe drew up in front of Fanny's door, and a gentleman, who was
no longer young, alighted from it; despite his years, he was dressed in
the latest fashion and exhaled a powerful odor of perfumery.
"That's my man!" said Cherami to himself; and, having watched the count
enter the house, he accosted the footman, who was yawning against a
post.
"Wasn't that Monsieur le Comte de la Beriniere whom I just saw get out
of this carriage?"
"Yes, monsieur; it was he."
"Ah! I said to myself: 'Why, there's an old acquaintance of mine!' yet I
was afraid of making a mistake, so I didn't dare to speak to him; but I
will go and renew my acquaintance with him to-morrow morning. Where does
the dear count live now?"
"Rue de la Ville-l'Eveque, just at the beginning, near the Madeleine."
"Very good; I can see it from here. How late can I find the count at
home in the morning?"
"Monsieur gets up late. He seldom goes out before noon."
"Infinitely obliged. I am sure that the dear count will be delighted to
see me to-morrow morning."
"If monsieur would tell me his name, I would tell my master."
"No; bless my soul, no! I want to surprise him; don't say anything to
him about it."
Cherami returned to his Hotel du Bel-Air, saying to himself:
"Gustave doesn't choose to fight with his rival, but I'll wager that
it's from some lingering feeling of delicacy, of kindness for that
little sinner of a Fanny! He says to himself: 'Let her be a countess, if
that will make her happy.'--Infernal nonsense, I call it. And as I have
no reason for being agreeable to that lady, I trust that I shall be able
to prevent her putting this new affront on my young friend."
The next day, having dressed himself with care, Cherami took the Paris
omnibus and exchanged into one for the Madeleine; at half-past ten, he
arrived at the Comte de la Beriniere's door, recognized the footman of
the preceding day, and said to him:
"Here I am; take me in to your master."
"Monsieur le comte is still in bed."
"Very well! wake him."
"He's awake, for he has already had his chocolate."
"As he's awake, there's no need of his getting up to receive me; I can
talk with him perfectly well in bed. Go and tell him that an old friend
of his wishes to see him."
"Your name, monsieur?"
"I have already told you that I wanted to surprise him; consequently, I
don't choose to send in my name."
The servant went to his master and delivered the message. Monsieur de la
Beriniere had not begun to think of rising; he had taken the young widow
to the Opera the night before, and had played the attentive gallant all
the evening, and he was at an age when such service is very tiresome. So
he was reposing in bed from the fatigues of the night.
"That young widow is an adorable creature," he mused. "Marriage will
make me settle down; I shall lead a virtuous life, and it will do me
good."
He was somewhat annoyed, therefore, when his servant announced an old
friend who wished to speak with him.
"Neither old friends nor new ones ought to come so early," he exclaimed.
"What the devil! they ought to let people sleep in peace. What's the
name of this old friend who's such an early bird?"
"He refused to send in his name, in order to surprise monsieur."
"He deserves to be turned away without seeing me."
"He was in the street last night when monsieur went into Madame
Monleard's. He recognized monsieur when he stepped out of the carriage."
"Well! let us see this man of surprises."
The servant ushered Cherami into his master's bedroom, and withdrew.
Monsieur de la Beriniere, with his rumpled silk nightcap on his head,
and his eyes still half-closed, was curled up in bed, covered to his
nose by the bedclothes; and in that position he was entirely destitute
of charms. So that Cherami, after eying him for a few seconds, said to
himself:
"What! it was this old baked apple who was given the preference over my
good-looking young friend Gustave! Damnation! women care even more for
money than we men do! for our reason for wanting it is to get wives with
it, while they take it to throw us over."
While Cherami indulged in this reflection, the count scrutinized his
visitor with interest, and said to him at last in a slightly nasal
voice:
"My dear monsieur, it's of no use for me to examine you from head to
foot, or to search my memory: I do not recall any friend of mine who
resembles you in the least."
Cherami bowed with an affable smile, and replied:
"Don't try, monsieur le comte, don't take that trouble; it would be a
waste of time; for the fact is that this is the first time I have had
the pleasure of being in your company."
"What's that? deuce take me! what does this mean? In that case, you are
not the old friend that you held yourself out to be?"
"That is to say, monsieur, I ventured to tell that little falsehood in
order to be more certain of obtaining an interview with you this
morning."
Monsieur de la Beriniere frowned and scowled, which did not add to his
beauty; he scrutinized Cherami with evident suspicion, and rejoined
sharply:
"What have you so important, so urgent, to say to me, monsieur, that you
presume to disturb me so early, to resort to a trick in order to be
admitted?"
"You shall know in a moment; but, first, allow me to sit. The matter in
hand deserves that I should take the trouble to be comfortable."
Without awaiting a reply, Cherami took an armchair, placed it beside the
bed, and stretched himself out in it. The ease of his manners, which did
not lack distinction, began to dispel the suspicions which had assailed
the count's mind for a moment; his curiosity was aroused by the whole
aspect of the strange individual who sat facing him.
Cherami, being seated to his satisfaction, began thus:
"Monsieur de la Beriniere, you see before you Arthur Cherami, the
intimate friend of young Gustave Darlemont. You know Gustave Darlemont,
I believe?"
"Faith! no; but, stay! Gustave---- Do you refer to the young man who was
an old play-fellow of Madame Monleard, and whom I saw at Monsieur
Gerbault's the other evening?"
"The same; that is, I don't know whether Gustave was Madame Monleard's
play-fellow, but I do know that he had become her heart's fellow.
However, without going into that, he was on the point of marrying the
young widow, when your appearance changed everything. You are a count,
you are rich; the little woman is a flirt of the first order; she
whirled about like a weathercock. By the way, this isn't the first time
she has taken the same turn. King Francois I said: '_Souvent femme
varie, bien fol est qui s'y fie._'[D] Which proves that that king had
made a careful study of the fair sex--a study which cost him rather
dear! but, never mind that; thus you, monsieur le comte, are the cause
of Madame Monleard's having abruptly given my friend Gustave the mitten,
instead of marrying him. And now, do you begin to suspect what brings me
here?"
"Why, yes, I fancy so; you are sent by this young Gustave, who desires
to fight with me?"
"That isn't it exactly. You are burning, but you're not quite there.
This is how it is: Gustave has no thought of fighting; not that he lacks
courage; oh! he's brave enough, I would answer for him as for
myself!--but he has such a soft spot in his heart for the widow that
he's afraid that, by killing you, he might distress her. The poor boy is
in despair; and when he's in despair, he leaves Paris, he goes abroad,
seeks distraction in other climes--and what I don't understand is that
he comes back as dead in love as when he went away; for I must tell you,
monsieur le comte, that you're not the first to cut the grass from under
his feet, as they say; he was to have married Mademoiselle Fanny
Gerbault, when Monsieur Auguste Monleard came upon the scene; he had the
prestige of wealth and fine social position, and poor Gustave was shown
the door. To-day, therefore, we have a second performance of the same
play, with this difference: that now my young friend has an excellent
position in his uncle's banking-house; but that you have a title and a
fine turnout, and are much richer than he."
"Well, monsieur, as your young friend doesn't think of fighting--which
is very wise of him, by the way, for I fancy that it wouldn't increase
the widow's affection for him; and, between ourselves, as he had been
rejected once, I am a good deal surprised that he came forward a second
time----"
"I agree with you, par la sambleu! I wouldn't have been the man to act
in that way! A woman who had slighted me for another man--that's much
worse than deceiving! Men are deceived every day, and it's forgiven; but
slighted, disdained! However, what would you have! passions are
passions! Gustave is to be pitied."
"I pity him with all my heart; but I return to my question: that being
so, what can have brought you here?"
"Oh! mon Dieu! it's easily explained. I am Gustave's devoted friend; he
forgives insult and treachery, but I do not choose that he shall be
insulted or betrayed. The wrong that is done him wounds me, insults me;
and as I have never swallowed an insult, I fight.--I have come,
therefore, to demand satisfaction at your hands for the little widow's
perfidy--of which you are the cause; that is to say, to speak more
accurately, the little widow is the real and the only culprit in this
affair. It was she who made a fool of Gustave in a much too indecent
fashion; but as it's impossible to demand satisfaction of a woman, I
have come to demand it of you, monsieur le comte, as her accomplice and
representative in this affair."
The count put the whole of his head outside of the bedclothes, in order
to obtain a better view of the person who had made this proposition to
him; and, after scrutinizing him carefully, he replied, in a mocking
tone:
"It makes no difference how closely I examine you, my dear monsieur, I
do not know you at all."
"We will make each other's acquaintance by fighting."
"Why should you expect me to fight with you? You haven't insulted me in
any way."
"If an insult is all that is necessary to induce you to fight with me,
never fear, I'll insult you; but I confess that I should prefer to have
the affair pass off quietly, courteously, as becomes well-bred people;
and, although I am not, like you, monsieur le comte, of noble birth, I
beg you to believe that you will not cross swords with a churl. I am of
good family, I was well educated, I inherited a very pretty little
fortune; but I made a fool of myself for that charming sex which is
decidedly fond of cashmere shawls and truffles. I have ruined myself,
pretty nearly, but I haven't forgotten how to use a sword; as poor
Auguste Monleard had reason to know."
"What's that? you fought with my pretty widow's first husband?"
"The day after the wedding; and I gave him a very neat sword-thrust in
the forearm."
"Ah! that fall that he claimed to have had on the stairs?"
"That was the result of our duel."
"Gad! monsieur, it seems that you have sworn the death of all the
captivating Fanny's husbands."
"If she had married my friend Gustave, I promise you that I wouldn't
have fought with him!"
"You will permit me to inform you, monsieur, that your conduct is
utterly absurd."
"Why so, monsieur, I pray to know?"
"Because one doesn't take up the cudgels in this way for another man who
is old enough to attend to his own affairs. Your friend Gustave doesn't
see fit to fight; why should you take it into your head to fight for
him?"
"I explained the reasons of my conduct a moment ago. If you didn't
listen, I will repeat them."
"It's a waste of time, monsieur; I shall not fight with you."
With that, the count pulled up the bedclothes, turned his face to the
wall, and curled himself up so that he made but a large-sized ball.
Cherami rose and paced the floor; then went to the fireplace and warmed
his feet at the fire that burned briskly on the hearth, saying: