“Poor René,” he said gaily. “So I put a spoke in his wheel. Dear, dear.
We must try to make up for it. I seem to remember him faintly—a calf
with curly fair hair. ‘66 rue Castetnau.’ Good.” He handed the letter
back. “We’ll call there next Sunday morning. The better the day,
sweeting, the better the deed. ‘Lonely.’ Poor clod, what a shame! But
for Lacaze, the steeple-jack, he might have been watching your pink
little hands ladle cream into pots, while he counted the takings and
gave out the change. Certainly we must make up for it—so far as we
can. . . .”
He sighed and went out.
As he closed the door, his eyes lighted. He walked down the passage
thoughtfully, licking his lips. . . .
Madeleine sat staring at the disordered cloth.
Long ago Misery had repaired to her eyes. Now Despair had come also. She
was really frightened.
Lacaze was perfectly right. But for him, she would have married René.
Ever since her disastrous wedding she had tried not to think about the
past—the old days. As for what might have been, this she had shut most
rigidly out of her thoughts. As if to mock her pains, here was Fate
flaunting it under her very nose. . . .
Again, God knows she was patient—to a fault. But her husband’s derision
of René had set her cheeks flaming. That it had made her heart warm
towards her old swain, she did not realize. _That it had been intended
so to do_, only another Lacaze could have guessed. The man was evil.
Finally, Madeleine knew in her heart that she had always loved René, and
never Lacaze . . . that she had loved René very much . . . that at the
present moment she loved him more than ever.
All things considered, then, that Silvia was thoroughly frightened is
not surprising. There were breakers ahead.
* * * * *
Lacaze knew that he could trust his wife. He knew that she was loyal,
incorruptible, holy. Trading upon this holiness, he fairly thrust the
lovers into each other’s arms. Before his dominant will the two poor
wretches were helpless. . . .
The climax came one beautiful July evening.
Dudoy had been bidden to call for Madeleine and take her to the Café de
la Forêt Noire. There the two were to wait till the steeple-jack joined
them.
“You know my corner,” he had said. “Take it and sip your syrup until I
arrive. I shall not be long, but Notre Dame is ailing. She has a crack,
poor lady, in one of her horns. To be frank, it is an awkward business.
I hope I shan’t slip. If I did—well, you two would take care of each
other, would you not?” He pinched his wife’s ear. “Still, we will hope
and pray my poor life may be spared.”
At a quarter to seven, therefore, honest curly-haired René strode down
the Rue de Tocqueville, to fold sweet sorrow in his arms. Madame Lacaze
was ready, and the two left at once.
On their way through the bustling streets they spoke very little.
Matter-of-fact conversation was difficult enough to come by. They kept
what reserve they had for the table without the window at the Café de la
Forêt Noire.
This appeared soon enough.
René saw Madeleine settled, and called for drink. Then they began to
talk—artificially. Madeleine laboured hard and met with success. After
a little, Dudoy began to dance to her piping. . . .
Then a laughing-eyed rogue of a child came and snapped the poor pipe in
two.
What happened exactly was this. The tot had escaped from its parents
three tables away. Liking the look of the lovers, it came to them
straight, showed them its sixpenny watch, made them both free of its
lips and, finally, desired them to draw a castle forthwith. Lack of a
pencil and paper made it impossible to comply. Madeleine pointed this
out gently enough. Pharaoh-like, the child waved aside the objection,
demanding a castle tearfully. The two sought to distract him for all
they were worth. . . . Here the parents suspended a bubbling colloquy to
look for their offspring. Madeleine and René were rescued in the nick of
time. . . .
The radiant father and mother were full of apologies.
“I pray you, forgive us. We were talking, and for a moment, we forgot.
It is at this age that they must be watched all the time. _When you have
a fine fat boy, you will understand._”
Hats were raised, smiles and bows were exchanged, and the incident
closed.
Madeleine and René Dudoy sat ready to burst into tears.