"They are waiting for you, Mademoiselle."
"I am coming, my good woman," peacefully answered Therese. "You can help
me put on my dress."
Julien, through a slit in the curtain, could see them both, and he
trembled at the audacity of the young girl. His teeth chattered so
loudly that he grasped his jaw and held it in his hand. Beside him,
under a chemise, he saw one of the icy feet of Colombel. If Françoise,
the mother, should draw the curtain and strike against the bare foot of
her child!
"Be careful," said Therese. "You are pulling off the flowers."
Her voice betrayed no emotion. She smiled like a girl pleased to go to a
ball. The dress was of white silk, trimmed with sweet briar,--white
flowers, with the hearts touched with red. And when she stood in the
middle of the room, she was like a large bouquet of virginal whiteness.
Her bare arms and her bare neck continued the whiteness of the silk.
"Oh! how beautiful you are! How beautiful you are!" repeated the old
Françoise. "And your garland,--wait!"
She searched for it, and was about to put her hand on the curtains to
look on the bed. Julien almost let out a cry of anguish. But Therese,
without haste, always smiling before the mirror, said:--
"It is there, on the chest. Give it to me. And don't touch my bed. I put
some things on it, and you would mix them all up."
Françoise helped her to arrange the branch of sweet briar like a crown,
with its flexible end drooping to the back of her neck. Françoise stood
admiring her. She was ready and putting on her gloves.
"Ah! well," cried Françoise, "there are no holy Virgins in the church
as white as you."
This compliment caused the young girl to smile again. She gave a last
glance into the mirror, and started for the door, saying,--
"Come along; let us go down. You can put out the candles."
In the sudden darkness, Julien heard the door close and Therese's gown
rustle along the corridor. The deep night was a veil before his eyes,
but he preserved the sensation of that bare foot near him. He remained
there, unconscious of the lapse of time, weighed down by thoughts heavy
as sleep, when the door opened. By the rustle of silk, he knew it was
Therese. She did not come in; she simply put something on the chest of
drawers, while she murmured:--
"Here; you have not dined. You must eat, you understand."
The gown rustled away again. Julien shook himself and got up. He
suffocated in the alcove; he could no longer remain near that bed,
beside Colombel. The clock struck eight,--he had four hours to wait! He
walked about muffling his footsteps. A feeble light, from the starlit
night, made it possible to distinguish the dark masses of furniture.
Three times, he thought he heard a sigh issue from the alcove. He
stopped, terrified. Then, when he listened intently, he found it was
sounds from the festivities below,--dance music, the laughing murmur of
a crowd. He closed his eyes; and, suddenly, instead of the blackness of
the room, he saw brilliant lights, a flaming drawing-room, in which was
Therese, in her white silk, waltzing to an amorous air. The whole house
vibrated to joyous music. He was alone, in this horrible corner, shaking
with fear!
Ten o'clock struck. He listened. It seemed as if he had been there
years. Then, he waited bewildered. Having found bread and fruit under
his hand, he ate avidly, with a gnawing of the stomach that he could not
assuage. When he had eaten, he was overcome by lassitude. The night
seemed never-ending. The distant music grew clearer; the dancing at
times shook the floor. Carriages began to rumble.
He was looking fixedly at the door, when he saw a light through the
keyhole. He did not hide. So much the worse, if anyone came in.
"No; thank you, Françoise," said Therese, appearing with a candle, "I
can undress quite well alone. Go to bed,--you must be tired."
She closed the door and slipped the bolt. Then, she stood for a moment
motionless, with her finger on her lip. The dance had not brought color
to her cheeks. She did not speak. She set down the candle, and sat down
opposite Julien. During a half hour, they waited, looking at each other.
The doors had banged; the mansion had gone to sleep. But what worried
Therese was the proximity of Françoise. Françoise walked about a few
minutes, then her bed creaked. For some time, she turned from side to
side, as if unable to sleep. At last, her strong and regular breathing
was heard through the wall.