“It annoys me too, but not an account of your cigar.”
The whistle blew and the train started. The trip lasted about an hour,
during which time they did not say very much to each other, as the two
old ladies did not go to sleep.
As soon as they were in front of the Saint-Lazare Station, Maitre
Lebrument said to his wife:
“Dearie, let us first go over to the Boulevard and get something to eat;
then we can quietly return and get our trunk and bring it to the hotel.”
She immediately assented.
“Oh! yes. Let's eat at the restaurant. Is it far?”
He answered:
“Yes, it's quite a distance, but we will take the omnibus.”
She was surprised:
“Why don't we take a cab?”
He began to scold her smilingly:
“Is that the way you save money? A cab for a five minutes' ride at six
cents a minute! You would deprive yourself of nothing.”
“That's so,” she said, a little embarrassed.
A big omnibus was passing by, drawn by three big horses, which were
trotting along. Lebrument called out:
“Conductor! Conductor!”
The heavy carriage stopped. And the young lawyer, pushing his wife, said
to her quickly:
“Go inside; I'm going up on top, so that I may smoke at least one
cigarette before lunch.”
She had no time to answer. The conductor, who had seized her by the arm
to help her up the step, pushed her inside, and she fell into a seat,
bewildered, looking through the back window at the feet of her husband
as he climbed up to the top of the vehicle.
And she sat there motionless, between a fat man who smelled of cheap
tobacco and an old woman who smelled of garlic.
All the other passengers were lined up in silence--a grocer's boy, a
young girl, a soldier, a gentleman with gold-rimmed spectacles and a
big silk hat, two ladies with a self-satisfied and crabbed look, which
seemed to say: “We are riding in this thing, but we don't have to,” two
sisters of charity and an undertaker. They looked like a collection of
caricatures.
The jolting of the wagon made them wag their heads and the shaking of
the wheels seemed to stupefy them--they all looked as though they were
asleep.
The young woman remained motionless.
“Why didn't he come inside with me?” she was saying to herself. An
unaccountable sadness seemed to be hanging over her. He really need not
have acted so.
The sisters motioned to the conductor to stop, and they got off one
after the other, leaving in their wake the pungent smell of camphor. The
bus started tip and soon stopped again. And in got a cook, red-faced and
out of breath. She sat down and placed her basket of provisions on her
knees. A strong odor of dish-water filled the vehicle.
“It's further than I imagined,” thought Jeanne.
The undertaker went out, and was replaced by a coachman who seemed to
bring the atmosphere of the stable with him. The young girl had as
a successor a messenger, the odor of whose feet showed that he was
continually walking.
The lawyer's wife began to feel ill at ease, nauseated, ready to cry
without knowing why.
Other persons left and others entered. The stage went on through
interminable streets, stopping at stations and starting again.
“How far it is!” thought Jeanne. “I hope he hasn't gone to sleep! He has
been so tired the last few days.”
Little by little all the passengers left. She was left alone, all alone.
The conductor cried:
“Vaugirard!”
Seeing that she did not move, he repeated:
“Vaugirard!”
She looked at him, understanding that he was speaking to her, as there
was no one else there. For the third time the man said:
“Vaugirard!”
Then she asked:
“Where are we?”
He answered gruffly:
“We're at Vaugirard, of course! I have been yelling it for the last half
hour!”
“Is it far from the Boulevard?” she said.
“Which boulevard?”
“The Boulevard des Italiens.”
“We passed that a long time ago!”
“Would you mind telling my husband?”
“Your husband! Where is he?”
“On the top of the bus.”
“On the top! There hasn't been anybody there for a long time.”
She started, terrified.
“What? That's impossible! He got on with me. Look well! He must be
there.”
The conductor was becoming uncivil:
“Come on, little one, you've talked enough! You can find ten men
for every one that you lose. Now run along. You'll find another one
somewhere.”
Tears were coming to her eyes. She insisted:
“But, monsieur, you are mistaken; I assure you that you must be
mistaken. He had a big portfolio under his arm.”
The man began to laugh:
“A big portfolio! Oh, yes! He got off at the Madeleine. He got rid of
you, all right! Ha! ha! ha!”
The stage had stopped. She got out and, in spite of herself, she looked
up instinctively to the roof of the bus. It was absolutely deserted.
Then she began to cry, and, without thinking that anybody was listening
or watching her, she said out loud:
“What is going to become of me?”
An inspector approached:
“What's the matter?”
The conductor answered, in a bantering tone of voice:
“It's a lady who got left by her husband during the trip.”
The other continued:
“Oh! that's nothing. You go about your business.”
Then he turned on his heels and walked away.
She began to walk straight ahead, too bewildered, too crazed even to
understand what had happened to her. Where was she to go? What could
she do? What could have happened to him? How could he have made such a
mistake? How could he have been so forgetful?
She had two francs in her pocket. To whom could she go? Suddenly she
remembered her cousin Barral, one of the assistants in the offices of
the Ministry of the Navy.
She had just enough to pay for a cab. She drove to his house. He met her
just as he was leaving for his office. He was carrying a large portfolio
under his arm, just like Lebrument.
She jumped out of the carriage.
“Henry!” she cried.
He stopped, astonished:
“Jeanne! Here--all alone! What are you doing? Where have you come from?”
Her eyes full of tears, she stammered:
“My husband has just got lost!”
“Lost! Where?”
“On an omnibus.”
“On an omnibus?”
Weeping, she told him her whole adventure.
He listened, thought, and then asked:
“Was his mind clear this morning?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Did he have much money with him?”
“Yes, he was carrying my dowry.”
“Your dowry! The whole of it?”
“The whole of it--in order to pay for the practice which he bought.”
“Well, my dear cousin, by this time your husband must be well on his way
to Belgium.”
She could not understand. She kept repeating:
“My husband--you say--”
“I say that he has disappeared with your--your capital--that's all!”
She stood there, a prey to conflicting emotions, sobbing.
“Then he is--he is--he is a villain!”
And, faint from excitement, she leaned her head on her cousin's shoulder
and wept.
As people were stopping to look at them, he pushed her gently into the
vestibule of his house, and, supporting her with his arm around her
waist, he led her up the stairs, and as his astonished servant opened
the door, he ordered:
“Sophie, run to the restaurant and get a luncheon for two. I am not
going to the office to-day.”