He uttered in a tone of contempt: "Oh! not worth speaking about.
Scarcely twenty thousand francs a year, not much in these days."
"But your wife has also inherited."
"Yes. A million between us. Forty thousand francs' income. We cannot
even keep a carriage on it."
They had reached the last of the reception-rooms, and before them lay
the conservatory--a huge winter garden full of tall, tropical trees,
sheltering clumps of rare flowers. Penetrating beneath this somber
greenery, through which the light streamed like a flood of silver, they
breathed the warm odor of damp earth, and an air heavy with perfumes. It
was a strange sensation, at once sweet, unwholesome, and pleasant, of a
nature that was artificial, soft, and enervating. They walked on carpets
exactly like moss, between two thick clumps of shrubs. All at once Du
Roy noticed on his left, under a wide dome of palms, a broad basin of
white marble, large enough to bathe in, and on the edge of which four
large Delft swans poured forth water through their open beaks. The
bottom of the basin was strewn with golden sand, and swimming about in
it were some enormous goldfish, quaint Chinese monsters, with projecting
eyes and scales edged with blue, mandarins of the waters, who recalled,
thus suspended above this gold-colored ground, the embroideries of the
Flowery Land. The journalist halted with beating heart. He said to
himself: "Here is luxury. These are the houses in which one ought to
live. Others have arrived at it. Why should not I?"
He thought of means of doing so; did not find them at once, and grew
irritated at his powerlessness. His companion, somewhat thoughtful, did
not speak. He looked at her in sidelong fashion, and again thought: "To
marry this little puppet would suffice."
But Susan all at once seemed to wake up. "Attention!" said she; and
pushing George through a group which barred their way, she made him turn
sharply to the right.
In the midst of a thicket of strange plants, which extended in the air
their quivering leaves, opening like hands with slender fingers, was
seen the motionless figure of a man standing on the sea. The effect was
surprising. The picture, the sides of which were hidden in the moving
foliage, seemed a black spot upon a fantastic and striking horizon. It
had to be carefully looked at in order to understand it. The frame cut
the center of the ship in which were the apostles, scarcely lit up by
the oblique rays from a lantern, the full light of which one of them,
seated on the bulwarks, was casting upon the approaching Savior. Jesus
was advancing with his foot upon a wave, which flattened itself
submissively and caressingly beneath the divine tread. All was dark
about him. Only the stars shone in the sky. The faces of the apostles,
in the vague light of the lantern, seemed convulsed with surprise. It
was a wonderful and unexpected work of a master; one of those works
which agitate the mind and give you something to dream of for years.
People who look at such things at the outset remain silent, and then go
thoughtfully away, and only speak later on of the worth of the painting.
Du Roy, having contemplated it for some time, said: "It is nice to be
able to afford such trifles."
But as he was pushed against by others coming to see it, he went away,
still keeping on his arm Susan's little hand, which he squeezed
slightly. She said: "Would you like a glass of champagne? Come to the
refreshment buffet. We shall find papa there."
And they slowly passed back through the saloons, in which the crowd was
increasing, noisy and at home, the fashionable crowd of a public fete.
George all at once thought he heard a voice say: "It is Laroche-Mathieu
and Madame Du Roy." These words flitted past his ear like those distant
sounds borne by the wind. Whence came they? He looked about on all
sides, and indeed saw his wife passing by on the minister's arm. They
were chatting intimately in a low tone, smiling, and with their eyes
fixed on one another's. He fancied he noticed that people whispered as
they looked at them, and he felt within him a stupid and brutal desire
to spring upon them, these two creatures, and smite them down. She was
making him ridiculous. He thought of Forestier. Perhaps they were
saying: "That cuckold Du Roy." Who was she? A little parvenu sharp
enough, but really not over-gifted with parts. People visited him
because they feared him, because they felt his strength, but they must
speak in unrestrained fashion of this little journalistic household. He
would never make any great way with this woman, who would always render
his home a suspected one, who would always compromise herself, whose
very bearing betrayed the woman of intrigue. She would now be a cannon
ball riveted to his ankle. Ah! if he had only known, if he had only
guessed. What a bigger game he would have played. What a fine match he
might have won with this little Susan for stakes. How was it he had been
blind enough not to understand that?
They reached the dining-room--an immense apartment, with marble columns,
and walls hung with old tapestry. Walter perceived his descriptive
writer, and darted forward to take him by the hands. He was intoxicated
with joy. "Have you seen everything? Have you shown him everything,
Susan? What a lot of people, eh, Pretty-boy! Did you see the Prince de
Guerche? He came and drank a glass of punch here just now," he
exclaimed.
Then he darted towards the Senator Rissolin, who was towing along his
wife, bewildered, and bedecked like a stall at a fair. A gentleman bowed
to Susan, a tall, thin fellow, slightly bald, with yellow whiskers, and
that air of good breeding which is everywhere recognizable. George heard
his name mentioned, the Marquis de Cazolles, and became suddenly jealous
of him. How long had she known him? Since her accession to wealth, no
doubt. He divined a suitor.
He was taken by the arm. It was Norbert de Varenne. The old poet was
airing his long hair and worn dress-coat with a weary and indifferent
air. "This is what they call amusing themselves," said he. "By and by
they will dance, and then they will go bed, and the little girls will be
delighted. Have some champagne. It is capital."
He had a glass filled for himself, and bowing to Du Roy, who had taken
another, said: "I drink to the triumph of wit over wealth." Then he
added softly: "Not that wealth on the part of others hurts me; or that I
am angry at it. But I protest on principle."
George no longer listened to him. He was looking for Susan, who had just
disappeared with the Marquis de Cazolles, and abruptly quitting Norbert
de Varenne, set out in pursuit of the young girl. A dense crowd in quest
of refreshments checked him. When he at length made his way through it,
he found himself face to face with the de Marelles. He was still in the
habit of meeting the wife, but he had not for some time past met the
husband, who seized both his hands, saying: "How can I thank you, my
dear fellow, for the advice you gave me through Clotilde. I have gained
close on a hundred thousand francs over the Morocco loan. It is to you I
owe them. You are a valuable friend."
Several men turned round to look at the pretty and elegant brunette. Du
Roy replied: "In exchange for that service, my dear fellow, I am going
to take your wife, or rather to offer her my arm. Husband and wife are
best apart, you know."
Monsieur de Marelle bowed, saying: "You are quite right. If I lose you,
we will meet here in an hour."
"Exactly."
The pair plunged into the crowd, followed by the husband. Clotilde kept
saying: "How lucky these Walters are! That is what it is to have
business intelligence."
George replied: "Bah! Clever men always make a position one way or
another."
She said: "Here are two girls who will have from twenty to thirty
millions apiece. Without reckoning that Susan is pretty."
He said nothing. His own idea, coming from another's mouth, irritated
him. She had not yet seen the picture of "Jesus Walking on the Water,"
and he proposed to take her to it. They amused themselves by talking
scandal of the people they recognized, and making fun of those they did
not. Saint-Potin passed by, bearing on the lapel of his coat a number of
decorations, which greatly amused them. An ex-ambassador following him
showed far fewer.