For five months they had been talking of going to lunch at some country
restaurant in the neighborhood of Paris, on Madame Dufour's birthday,
and as they were looking forward very impatiently to the outing, they
had got up very early that morning. Monsieur Dufour had borrowed the
milkman's tilted cart, and drove himself. It was a very tidy,
two-wheeled conveyance, with a hood, and in it the wife, resplendent in
a wonderful, sherry-colored, silk dress, sat by the side of her husband.
The old grandmother and a girl were accommodated with two chairs, and a
boy with yellow hair was lying at the bottom of the trap, of whom
however, nothing was to be seen except his head.
When they got to the bridge of Neuilly, Monsieur Dufour said: "Here we
are in the country at last!" and at that signal, his wife had grown
sentimental about the beauties of nature. When they got to the cross
roads at Courbevoie, they were seized with admiration for the distant
horizon down there; on the right, was the spire of Argenteuil church,
and above it rose the hills of Sannois, and the mill of Orgemont, while
on the left, the aqueduct of Marly stood out against the clear morning
sky, and in the distance they could see the terrace of Saint-Germain;
and opposite to them, at the end of a low chain of hills, the new fort
of Cormeilles. Quite in the distance, a very long way off, beyond the
plains and villages, one could see the somber green of the forests.
The sun was beginning to shine in their faces, the dust got into their
eyes, and on either side of the road there stretched an interminable
tract of bare, ugly country which smelt unpleasantly. One might have
thought that it had been ravaged by the pestilence, which had even
attacked the buildings, for skeletons of dilapidated and deserted
houses, or small cottages, which were left in an unfinished state, as
the contractors had not been paid, reared their four roofless walls on
each side.
Here and there tall factory chimneys rose up from the barren soil; the
only vegetation on that putrid land, where the spring breezes wafted an
odor of petroleum and shist, which was mingled with another smell, that
was even still less agreeable. At last, however, they crossed the Seine
a second time, and it was delightful on the bridge. The river sparkled
in the sun, and they had a feeling of quiet satisfaction and enjoyment,
in drinking in the purer air, that was not impregnated by the black
smoke of factories, nor by the miasma from the deposits of night soil. A
man whom they met, told them that the name of the place was _Bézons_,
and so Monsieur Dufour pulled up, and read the attractive announcement
outside an eating-house: _Restaurant Poulin, stews and fried fish,
private rooms, arbors and swings._
"Well! Madame Dufour, will this suit you? Will you make up your mind at
last?"
She read the announcement in her turn, and then looked at the house for
a time.
It was a white, country inn, built by the road side, and through the
open door she could see the bright zinc of the counter, at which two
workmen, out for the day, were sitting. At last she made up her mind,
and said:
"Yes, this will do; and, besides, there is a view."
So they drove into a large yard with trees in it, behind the inn, which
was only separated from the river by the towing-path, and got out. The
husband sprang out first, and then held out his arms for his wife, and
as the step was very high, Madame Dufour, in order to reach him, had to
show the lower part of her limbs, whose former slenderness had
disappeared in fat, the Monsieur Dufour, who was already getting excited
by the country air, pinched her calf, and then taking her in his arms,
he set her onto the ground, as if she had been some enormous bundle. She
shook the dust out of the silk dress, and then looked round, to see in
what sort of a place she was.
She was a stout woman, of about thirty-six, full-blown and delightful to
look at. She could hardly breathe, as her stays were laced too tightly,
and their pressure forced the heaving mass of her superabundant bosom up
to her double chin. Next, the girl put her hand onto her father's
shoulder, and jumped lightly out. The boy with the yellow hair had got
down by stepping on the wheel, and he helped Monsieur Dufour to get his
grandmother out. Then they unharnessed the horse, which they tied up to
a tree, and the carriage fell back, with both shafts in the air. The men
took off their coats, and washed their hands in a pail of water, and
then went and joined their ladies who had already taken possession of
the swings.
Mademoiselle Dufour was trying to swing herself standing up, but she
could not succeed in getting a start. She was a pretty girl of about
eighteen; one of those women who suddenly excite your desire when you
meet them in the street, and who leave you with a vague feeling of
uneasiness, and of excited senses. She was tall, had a small waist and
large hips, with a dark skin, very large eyes, and very black hair. Her
dress clearly marked the outlines of her firm, full figure, which was
accentuated by the motion of her hips as she tried to swing herself
higher. Her arms were stretched over her head to hold the rope, so that
her bosom rose at every movement she made. Her hat, which a gust of wind
had blown off, was hanging behind her, and as the swing gradually rose
higher and higher, she showed her delicate limbs up to the knees each
time, and the wind from the petticoats, which was more heady than the
fumes of wine, blew into the faces of the two men, who were looking at
her and smiling.
Sitting in the other swing, Madame Dufour kept saying in a monotonous
voice:
"Cyprian, come and swing me; do come and swing me, Cyprian!"
At last he went, and turning up his shirt sleeves as if he intended to
work very hard, he, with much difficulty set his wife in motion. She
clutched the two ropes, and held her legs out straight, so as not to
touch the ground. She enjoyed feeling giddy at the motion of the swing,
and her whole figure shook like a jelly on a dish, but as she went
higher and higher, she grew too giddy and got frightened. Every time she
was coming back she uttered a piercing scream which made all the little
urchins come round, and, down below, beneath the garden hedge, she
vaguely saw a row of mischievous heads, who made various grimaces as
they laughed.
When a servant girl came out, they ordered lunch.
"Some fried fish, a stewed rabbit, salad, and dessert," Madame Dufour
said, with an important air.
"Bring two quarts of beer and a bottle of claret," her husband said.
"We will have lunch on the grass," the girl added.
The grandmother, who had an affection for cats, had been running after
one that belonged to the house, and had been bestowing the most
affectionate words on it, for the last ten minutes. The animal, which
was no doubt secretly flattered by her attentions, kept close to the
good woman, but just out of reach of her hand, and quietly walked round
the trees, against which she rubbed herself, with her tail up, and
purring with pleasure.
"Hulloh!" the young man with the yellow hair, who was ferreting about,
suddenly exclaimed, "here are two swell boats!" They all went to look at
them, and saw two beautiful skiffs in a wooden boat-house, which were as
beautifully finished as if they had been objects of luxury. They were
moored side by side, like two tall, slender girls, in their narrow
shining length, and excited the wish to float in them on warm summer
mornings and evenings, along the bower-covered banks of the river, where
the trees dipped their branches into the water, where the rushes are
continually rustling in the breeze, and where the swift king-fishers
dart about like flashes of blue lightning.
The whole family looked at them with great respect.
"Oh! They are indeed two swell boats," Monsieur Dufour repeated gravely,
and he examined them gravely, and he examined them like a connoisseur.
He had been in the habit of rowing in his younger days, he said, and
when he had that in his hands--and he went through the action of pulling
the oars--he did not care a fig for anybody. He had beaten more than one
Englishman formerly at the Joinville regattas. He grew quite excited at
last, and offered to make a bet, that in a boat like that, he could row
six leagues an hour, without exerting himself.
"Lunch is ready," the waitress said, appearing at the entrance to the
boat-house, so they all hurried off, but two young men were already
lunching at the best place, which Madame Dufour had chosen in her mind
as her seat. No doubt they were the owners of the skiffs, for they were
dressed in boating costume. They were stretched out, almost lying on
chairs, and were sunburnt, and had on flannel trousers and thin cotton
jerseys, with short sleeves, which showed their bare arms, which were as
strong as blackmiths'. They were two strong fellows, who thought a great
deal of their vigor, and who showed in all their movements that
elasticity and grace of the limbs which can only be acquired by
exercise, and which is so different to the deformity with which the same
continual work stamps the mechanic.
They exchanged a rapid smile when they saw the mother, and then a look
on seeing the daughter.
"Let us give up our place," one of them said: "it will make us
acquainted with them."
The other got up immediately, and holding his black and red boating-cap
in his hand, he politely offered the ladies the only shady place in the
garden. With many excuses they accepted, and so that it might be more
rural, they sat on the grass, without either tables or chairs.
The two young men took their plates, knives, forks, etc., to a table a
little way off, and began to eat again, and their bare arms, which they
showed continually, rather embarrassed the girl. She even pretended to
turn her head aside, and not to see them, while Madame Dufour, who was
rather bolder, tempted by feminine curiosity, looked at them every
moment, and no doubt compared them with the secret unsightliness of her
husband. She had squatted herself on the ground, with her legs tucked
under her, after the manner of tailors, and she kept wriggling about
continually under the pretext that ants were crawling about her
somewhere. Monsieur Dufour, whom the presence of strangers of politeness
had put into rather a bad tempter, was trying to find a comfortable
position, which he did not, however, succeed in doing, and the young man
with the yellow hair was eating as silently as an ogre.
"It is lovely weather, Monsieur," the stout lady said to one of the
boating-men. She wished to be friendly, because they had given up their
place.
"It is, indeed, Madame," he replied; "do you often go into the country?"
"Oh! Only once or twice a year, to get a little fresh air; and you,
monsieur?"
"I come and sleep here every night."
"Oh! That must be very nice?"
"Certainly it is, Madame." And he gave them such a practical account of
his daily life, that it gave rise in the hearts of these shop-keepers,
who were deprived of the meadows, and who longed for country walks, to
that foolish love of nature, which they all feel so strongly the whole
year round, behind the counter in their shop.
The girl raised her eyes, and looked at the oarsman with emotion, and
Monsieur Dufour spoke for the first time.
"It is indeed a happy life," he said. And then he added: "A little more
rabbit, my dear?"
"No, thank you," she replied and turning to the young men again, and
pointing to their arms asked: "Do you never feel cold like that?"
They both began to laugh, and they frightened the family by the account
of the enormous fatigue they could endure, of their bathing while in a
state of tremendous perspiration, of their rowing in the fog at night,
and they struck their chests violently, to show how they sounded.
"Ah! You look very strong," the husband said, who did not talk any more
of the time when he used to beat the English. The girl was looking at
them aside now, and the young fellow with the yellow hair was coughing
violently, as he had swallowed some wine the wrong way, and bespattering
Madame Dufour's cherry-colored silk dress, who got angry, and sent for
some water, to wash the spots.
Meanwhile it had grown unbearably hot, the sparkling river looked like a
blaze of fire, and the fumes of the wine were getting into their heads.
Monsieur Dufour, who had a violent hiccough, had unbuttoned his
waistcoat, and the top of his trousers, while his wife, who felt
choking, was gradually unfastening her dress. The apprentice was shaking
his yellow wig in a happy frame of mind, and kept helping himself to
wine, and as the old grandmother felt drunk, she also felt very stiff
and dignified. As for the girl, she showed nothing, except a peculiar
brightness in her eyes, while the brown skin on the cheeks became more
rosy.
The coffee finished them off; they spoke of singing, and each of them
sang, or repeated a couplet, which the others repeated frantically. Then
they got up with some difficulty, and while the two women, who were
rather dizzy, were getting the fresh air, the two men, who were
altogether drunk, were performing gymnastic tricks. Heavy, limp, and
with scarlet faces, they hung awkwardly onto the iron rings, without
being able to raise themselves, while their shirts were continually
threatening to leave their trousers, and to flap in the wind like flags.
Meanwhile, the two boating-men had got their skiffs into the water, and
they came back, and politely asked the ladies whether they would like a
row.
"Would you like one, Monsieur Dufour?" his wife exclaimed,--"Please
come!"
He merely gave her a drunken look, without understanding what she said.
Then one of the rowers came up, with two fishing-rods in his hand; and
the hope of catching a gudgeon, that great aim of the Parisian
shop-keeper, made Dufour's dull eyes gleam, and he politely allowed them
to do whatever they liked, while he sat in the shade, under the bridge,
with his feet dangling over the river, by the side of the young man with
the yellow hair, who was sleeping soundly close to him.
One of the boating men made a martyr of himself and took the mother.
"Let us go to the little wood on the _Ile aux Anglias_!" he called out,
as he rowed off. The other skiff went slower, for the rower was looking
at his companion so intently, that he thought of nothing else, and his
emotion paralyzed his strength, while the girl, who was sitting on the
steerer's seat, gave herself up to the enjoyment of being on the water.
She felt disinclined to think, felt a lassitude in her limbs, and a
total abandonment of herself, as if she were intoxicated, and she had
become very flushed, and breathed shortly. The effects of the wine,
which were increased by the extreme heat, made all the trees on the bank
seem to bow, as she passed. A vague wish for enjoyment and a
fermentation for her blood, seemed to pervade her whole body, which was
excited by the heat of the day; and she was also agitated by this
_tête-à-tête_ on the water, in a place which seemed depopulated by the
heat, with this young man who thought her pretty, whose looks seemed to
caress her skin, and whose looks were as penetrating and pervading as
the sun's rays.
Their inability to speak, increased their emotion, and they looked about
them, but at last he made an effort and asked her name.
"Henriette," she said.
"Why! My name is Henri," he replied. The sound of their voices had
calmed them, and they looked at the banks. The other skiff had passed
them, and seemed to be waiting for them, and the rower called out:
"We will meet you in the wood; we are going as far as _Robinson's_[13]
because Madame Dufour is thirsty." Then he bent over his oars again, and
rowed off so quickly that he was soon out of sight.
[Footnote 13: A well-known restaurant on the banks of the Seine, which
is much frequented by the middle classes.--TRANSLATOR.]
Meanwhile, a continual roar, which they had heard for some time, came
nearer, and the river itself seemed to shiver, as if the dull noise were
rising from its depths.
"What is that noise?" she asked. It was the noise of the weir, which cut
the river in two, at the island, and he was explaining it to her, when
above the noise of the waterfall, they heard the song of a bird, which
seemed a long way off.
"Listen!" he said; "the nightingales are singing during the day, so the
females must be sitting."
A nightingale! She had never heard one before, and the idea of listening
to one roused visions of poetic tenderness in her heart. A nightingale!
That is to say, the invisible witness of her lovers' interview which
Juliette invoked on her balcony[14]; the celestial music, which is
attuned to human kisses, that eternal inspirer of all those languorous
romances which open an ideal sky to all the poor little tender hearts of
sensitive girls!
[Footnote 14: Romeo and Juliet, Act III, Scene V.]
She was going to hear a nightingale.
"We must not make a noise," her companion said, "and then we can go into
the wood, and sit down close to it."
The skiff seemed to glide. They saw the trees on the island, whose banks
were so low, that they could look into the depths of the thickets. They
stopped, he made the boat fast, Henriette took hold of Henri's arm, and
they went beneath the trees.
"Stop," he said, so she bent down, and they went into an inextricable
thicket of creepers, leaves, and reed-grass, which formed an
inpenetrable asylum, and which the young man laughingly called, "his
private room."
Just above their heads, perched in one of the trees which hid them, the
bird was still singing. He uttered shakes and roulades, and then long,
vibrating sounds that filled the air, and seemed to lose themselves on
the horizon, across the level country, through that burning silence
which weighed upon the whole country round. They did not speak for fear
of frightening it away. They were sitting close together, and slowly
Henri's arm stole round the girl's waist and squeezed it gently. She
took that daring hand without any anger, and kept removing it whenever
he put it round her; without, however, feeling at all embarrassed by
this caress, just as if it had been something quite natural, which she
was resisting just as naturally.
She was listening to the bird in ecstasy. She felt an infinite longing
for happiness, for some sudden demonstration of tenderness, for the
revelation of super-human poetry, and she felt such a softening at her
heart, and relaxation of her nerves, that she began to cry, without
knowing why, and now the young man was straining her close to him, and
she did not remove his arm; she did not think of it. Suddenly the
nightingale stopped, and a voice called out in the distance:
"Henriette!"
"Do not reply," he said in a low voice; "you will drive the bird away."
But she had no idea of doing so, and they remained in the same position
for some time. Madame Dufour had sat down somewhere or other, for from
time to time they heard the stout lady break out into little bursts of
laughter.
The girl was still crying; she was filled with strange sensations.
Henri's head was on her shoulder, and suddenly he kissed her on the
lips. She was surprised and angry, and, to avoid him, she stood up.
They were both very pale, when they quitted their grassy retreat. The
blue sky looked dull to them, and the ardent sun was clouded over to
their eyes, but they perceived not the solitude and silence. They walked
quickly side by side, without speaking or touching each other, for they
appeared to be irreconcilable enemies, as if disgust had sprung up
between them, and hatred between their souls, and from time to time
Henriette called out: "Mamma!"
By-and-bye they heard a noise in a thicket, and the stout lady appeared
looking rather confused, and her companion's face was wrinkled with
smiles which he could not check.
Madame Dufour took his arm, and they returned to the boats, and Henri,
who was going on first, still without speaking, by the girl's side, and
at last they got back to Bézons. Monsieur Dufour, who had got sober, was
waiting for them very impatiently, while the young man with the yellow
hair, was having a mouthful of something to eat, before leaving the inn.
The carriage was in the yard, with the horse in, and the grandmother,
who had already got in, was very frightened at the thought of being
overtaken by night, before they got back to Paris, as the outskirts were
not safe.
They shook hands, and the Dufour family drove off.
"Good-bye, until we meet again!" the oarsman cried, and the answer they
got was a sigh and a tear.
* * * * *
Two months later, as Henri was going along the _Rue des Martyrs_, he saw
_Dufour, Ironmonger_ over a door, and so he went in, and saw the stout
lady sitting at the counter. They recognized each other immediately, and
after an interchange of polite greetings, he asked after them all.
"And how is Mademoiselle Henriette?" he inquired, specially.
"Very well, thank you; she is married."
"Ah!" ... But mastering his feelings, he added: "Whom was she married
to?"
"To that young man who went with us, you know, he has joined us in
business."
"I remember him, perfectly."
He was going out, feeling very unhappy, though scarcely knowing why,
when Madame called him back.
"And how is your friend?" she asked, rather shyly.
"He is very well, thank you."
"Please give him our compliments, and beg him to come and call, when he
is in the neighborhood."