Meanwhile, with father and mother torn by a hundred miserable fears at
home, it may be supposed that, in Paris, the wife's trouble was greater.
Nothing of the sort. Nathalie was worried, because Leon was so
evidently uneasy; but not a shadow of doubt had touched her mind, and
she was not really unhappy. Never before had she lived alone with her
husband, or found herself in an atmosphere free from chilly slights.
All that she saw and heard about her interested her. Her intellect,
freed from vexing cramps, leaped to its kingdom. Leon looked, listened
in wonder. If only Raoul had been there!
And in Leon's nature there was nothing of the moroseness which is angry
because its own wretchedness is not shared. Sometimes, often even, he
was miserably depressed, but at such times he really preferred that
Nathalie should refuse to see reason for his low spirits, should indeed
persist in ignoring them. She treated the whole affair as a malicious
attempt to extort money, to which her husband should not yield for a
moment.
"Dear Leon, the thing is so ludicrous, so impossible! Tell the man that
he may do his worst; or, rather, threaten him with an action for
defamation of character. I am sure that would be by far your best plan,
and the only means by which you can protect yourself in future. Of
course he will not venture even now to take further steps; but the point
is that he will always be threatening and pretending to have proof, and
by-and-by the thing may really get abroad. If you take no steps to
punish him, people will begin to imagine you were afraid, and that there
was something in it. I am quite certain that my father, who has
excellent common-sense, would advise you to put a summary end to
Monsieur Lemaire's attempts."
They were driving together up the Champs-Elysees. Leon waited for a few
moments before answering.
"That is all very well, but you do not understand."
It was the argument he used most frequently, and it was not one which
offered points for discussion. Nathalie accepted it, as usual, as to
detail.
"I dare say I don't. But I understand the absurdity, and so will every
one who hears. The man must really be quite foolish! While he was
about it, why did he not design something more probable. A common
theft!" She laughed gayly.
He bathed deliciously in her disbelief. It reanimated him.
"I do not really think any one will be found to credit it."
She exclaimed at the bare notion. Impossible!
He gazed at her admiringly; the noble lines of her face made other women
appear insignificant.
"I believe your own taste is right, if a little severe," he said, at
last. "Frills and furbelows would not suit your style."
"Converted! A triumph!" she cried, merrily. "There is a charming
toilette in that carriage, but if I were to wear it I should have the
effect of a dancing monkey. But how brilliant it all is! How
delightful!" She paused a moment. "The real enchantment is that you
and I should be together and alone, and do you know that if it were not
that you allow yourself to be vexed, I should be almost grateful to this
Monsieur Lemaire for giving me such delightful days."
He turned his head away, and the grip of his hand on the carriage door
tightened.
"Don't let us talk of the rascal any more!" he cried. "Look, there is
the President's carriage. What a pity Felicie is not here to turn her
back! And there is the Marquise de Saurigny, in white and green. She
sees you, and you are sure to have a card for her reception. Directly
it is known we are in Paris, there will be invitations, although all the
world is by the sea. Will you go?"
"If you like."
"You are not frightened?"
"Why should I be?"
He smiled. The answer pleased him. Against his mother he had always
maintained that Nathalie would take her place in the great world without
awkwardness or mauvaise honte. For the moment he forgot the sword which
hung over him; he enjoyed the exhilaration, the gaiety, the lightness of
the air, and his wife smiled to herself to see his spirits rise.
"To think that you should have known none of this, little bourgeoise!"
he said, jestingly. "I must take you somewhere to-night. Where shall
we go? To the theatre?"
"Charming!"
Then, looking at him, she saw his face suddenly change, whiten. She
turned quickly; a victoria had just passed, but she was too late to
catch a glimpse of its occupant.
"What is it, Leon?" she cried. "Are you ill? Have you seen any one?"
Evidently it cost him a great effort to recover himself--so great that
he could not at first answer. Nathalie had got hold of the hand nearest
herself, and held it firmly, as if to give him strength. He drew his
breath deeply; she pressed no more questions upon him, but waited. When
at last he spoke, it was in as low a tone as if he feared being
overheard. "You saw?"
"A carriage--no more."
"Not the man in it?"
"No. Who was it?" She checked herself. "Don't tell me if you would
rather not." For the paleness of his face startled her.
"It was Lemaire. He saw us."
She smiled. "And you let the sight of him disturb you? Dear Leon, I
shall begin to think you are ill indeed! He might very well be
shocked--not you. Let us turn and drive after him, for you know he
persistently refuses an interview, and here is our opportunity."
She leaned forward to give the order, but her husband caught her arm.
"No, on no account; you might see for yourself, I think, that I am in no
condition to meet him on such a subject, and that he would have me at a
disadvantage."
"I believe if you got hold of him you would put an end to all this
annoyance; but I suppose, even if you desired it, we should hardly have
overtaken the carriage. Was he alone?"
Leon made a sign in the affirmative.
"I wish I had seen him," mused his wife. "If you see a person you can
judge so much better what he is like. And his face, when he caught
sight of you, must have been a study."
"He is a villain!" muttered the young baron, still pale.
"But so foolish a villain! Does he really suppose that any one will
believe his story? Dear Leon, I do think you ought to put a stop to it
at once, and as the man himself will not see you, send for Monsieur
Rodoin, and desire him to take the necessary steps for bringing an
action for libel, or for writing threatening letters to extort money, or
whatever it is he has made himself subject to. You must feel that he
deserves punishment, and you will be worried to death if this sort of
annoyance goes on. Come, dear. You know that is Monsieur Rodoin's own
opinion. Be firm, and the silly plot will collapse."