All at once he remembered, understood it all, was uneasy at first, and
then denied the charge with a chuckle, not vexed at the bottom that she
should suspect him of other loves. She kept on searching, and still
found hairs, which she rapidly untwisted and threw on the carpet. She
had guessed matters with her artful woman's instinct, and stammered out,
vexed, angry, and ready to cry: "She loves you, she does--and she wanted
you to take away something belonging to her. Oh, what a traitor you
are!" But all at once she gave a cry, a shrill cry of nervous joy. "Oh!
oh! it is an old woman--here is a white hair. Ah, you go in for old
women now! Do they pay you, eh--do they pay you? Ah, so you have come to
old women, have you? Then you have no longer any need of me. Keep the
other one."
She rose, ran to her bodice thrown onto a chair, and began hurriedly to
put it on again. He sought to retain her, stammering confusedly: "But,
no, Clo, you are silly. I do not know anything about it. Listen
now--stay here. Come, now--stay here."
She repeated: "Keep your old woman--keep her. Have a ring made out of
her hair--out of her white hair. You have enough of it for that."
With abrupt and swift movements she had dressed herself and put on her
bonnet and veil, and when he sought to take hold of her, gave him a
smack with all her strength. While he remained bewildered, she opened
the door and fled.
As soon as he was alone he was seized with furious anger against that
old hag of a Mother Walter. Ah, he would send her about her business,
and pretty roughly, too! He bathed his reddened cheek and then went out,
in turn meditating vengeance. This time he would not forgive her. Ah,
no! He walked down as far as the boulevard, and sauntering along stopped
in front of a jeweler's shop to look at a chronometer he had fancied for
a long time back, and which was ticketed eighteen hundred francs. He
thought all at once, with a thrill of joy at his heart, "If I gain my
seventy thousand francs I can afford it."
And he began to think of all the things he would do with these seventy
thousand francs. In the first place, he would get elected deputy. Then
he would buy his chronometer, and would speculate on the Bourse, and
would--
He did not want to go to the office, preferring to consult Madeleine
before seeing Walter and writing his article, and started for home. He
had reached the Rue Druot, when he stopped short. He had forgotten to
ask after the Count de Vaudrec, who lived in the Chaussee d'Antin. He
therefore turned back, still sauntering, thinking of a thousand things,
mainly pleasant, of his coming fortune, and also of that scoundrel of a
Laroche-Mathieu, and that old stickfast of a Madame Walter. He was not
uneasy about the wrath of Clotilde, knowing very well that she forgave
quickly.
He asked the doorkeeper of the house in which the Count de Vaudrec
resided: "How is Monsieur de Vaudrec? I hear that he has been unwell
these last few days."
The man replied: "The Count is very bad indeed, sir. They are afraid he
will not live through the night; the gout has mounted to his heart."
Du Roy was so startled that he no longer knew what he ought to do.
Vaudrec dying! Confused and disquieting ideas shot through his mind that
he dared not even admit to himself. He stammered: "Thank you; I will
call again," without knowing what he was saying.
Then he jumped into a cab and was driven home. His wife had come in. He
went into her room breathless, and said at once: "Have you heard?
Vaudrec is dying."
She was sitting down reading a letter. She raised her eyes, and
repeating thrice: "Oh! what do you say, what do you say, what do you
say?"
"I say that Vaudrec is dying from a fit of gout that has flown to the
heart." Then he added: "What do you think of doing?"
She had risen livid, and with her cheeks shaken by a nervous quivering,
then she began to cry terribly, hiding her face in her hands. She stood
shaken by sobs and torn by grief. But suddenly she mastered her sorrow,
and wiping her eyes, said: "I--I am going there--don't bother about
me--I don't know when I shall be back--don't wait for me."
He replied: "Very well, dear." They shook hands, and she went off so
hurriedly that she forgot her gloves.
George, having dined alone, began to write his article. He did so
exactly in accordance with the minister's instructions, giving his
readers to understand that the expedition to Morocco would not take
place. Then he took it to the office, chatted for a few minutes with the
governor, and went out smoking, light-hearted, though he knew not why.
His wife had not come home, and he went to bed and fell asleep.
Madeleine came in towards midnight. George, suddenly roused, sat up in
bed. "Well?" he asked.
He had never seen her so pale and so deeply moved. She murmured: "He is
dead."
"Ah!--and he did not say anything?"
"Nothing. He had lost consciousness when I arrived."
George was thinking. Questions rose to his lips that he did not dare to
put. "Come to bed," said he.
She undressed rapidly, and slipped into bed beside him, when he resumed:
"Were there any relations present at his death-bed?"
"Only a nephew."
"Ah! Did he see this nephew often?"
"Never. They had not met for ten years."
"Had he any other relatives?"
"No, I do not think so."
"Then it is his nephew who will inherit?"
"I do not know."
"He was very well off, Vaudrec?"
"Yes, very well off."
"Do you know what his fortune was?"
"No, not exactly. One or two millions, perhaps."
He said no more. She blew out the light, and they remained stretched
out, side by side, in the darkness--silent, wakeful, and reflecting. He
no longer felt inclined for sleep. He now thought the seventy thousand
francs promised by Madame Walter insignificant. Suddenly he fancied that
Madeleine was crying. He inquired, in order to make certain: "Are you
asleep?"
"No."
Her voice was tearful and quavering, and he said: "I forgot to tell you
when I came in that your minister has let us in nicely."
"How so?"
He told her at length, with all details, the plan hatched between
Laroche-Mathieu and Walter. When he had finished, she asked: "How do you
know this?"
He replied: "You will excuse me not telling you. You have your means of
information, which I do not seek to penetrate. I have mine, which I wish
to keep to myself. I can, in any case, answer for the correctness of my
information."
Then she murmured: "Yes, it is quite possible. I fancied they were up to
something without us."
But George, who no longer felt sleepy, had drawn closer to his wife, and
gently kissed her ear. She repulsed him sharply. "I beg of you to leave
me alone. I am not in a mood to romp." He turned resignedly towards the
wall, and having closed his eyes, ended by falling asleep.