CLOUDS.
Aside from the intoxication of renewed visits, Maurice was certainly
much disappointed at the reception of Geneviève, and reckoned upon
solitary interviews to regain the road he had lost, or seemed to have
lost, in her affections.
But Geneviève had wisely arranged her plan, and did not intend to allow
him an opportunity for a _tête-à-tête_, being conscious of their danger
even from the happiness they afforded her.
Maurice trusted to the morrow. A kinswoman of Geneviève's, no doubt
previously invited, came to call upon her, and Geneviève had retained
her. This time there was nothing to be said; it could not be the fault
of Geneviève. When leaving, Maurice was requested to escort this
relation to Rue des Fossés Saint Victor, where she resided. Maurice
went away pouting, but Geneviève smiled, and he construed this smile
into a promise.
Alas! Maurice deceived himself. The next day, the 2d of June, that
terrible day that witnessed the downfall of the Girondins, Maurice
dismissed his friend Lorin, who absolutely wished to carry him off to
the Convention, and put everything aside that he might visit his fair
friend. The Goddess of Liberty had a powerful rival in Geneviève.
Maurice found Geneviève in her little salon, all grace and amiability,
but near her was a young _femme-de-chambre_ with the tricolored
cockade, engaged in marking pocket-handkerchiefs in the corner of the
window, who never left her place.
Maurice knitted his brows, and Geneviève, perceiving he was not in
the best temper possible, redoubled her assiduities; but since her
amiability was not carried so far as to dismiss the young official, he
impatiently left an hour earlier than usual.
All this might have perhaps happened by chance. Maurice took patience.
The political situation, besides, was so terrible that long as it was
since he had interested himself in public affairs, the report reached
even him. It required nothing less than the downfall of a party who had
reigned in France for ten months to withdraw his attention from his
all-engrossing passion for Geneviève.
The next day witnessed the same management on the part of Geneviève,
and Maurice, having foreseen this, had arranged his plan. So ten
minutes after his arrival, seeing that the young woman, having finished
marking a dozen pocket-handkerchiefs, commenced six dozen of table
napkins, Maurice, we say, drew out his watch, rose, bowed to Geneviève,
and went out without saying one word.
Still more, as he left, he did not even once look back.
Geneviève, who had risen to watch him across the garden, remained an
instant speechless, pale, and trembling, then dropped into her chair,
thunderstruck at the effect of her diplomacy.
At this moment Dixmer entered.
"Maurice gone?" said he, with astonishment.
"Yes," stammered Geneviève.
"But he had only just arrived."
"He was here a quarter of an hour, or nearly so."
"Then he will return?"
"I much doubt it."
"Leave us, Muguet [lily of the valley]," said Dixmer.
The _femme-de-chambre_ had assumed the name of the flower from hatred
to her baptismal name of Marie, which was unfortunately that of the
Austrian.
She rose at the command of her master, and quitted the room.
"Well, dear Geneviève," said Dixmer, "is peace restored between you and
Maurice?"
"On the contrary, I think we are cooler than ever."
"And this time, who is to blame?" said Dixmer.
"Maurice, without the slightest doubt."
"Permit me to judge."
"What!" said Geneviève, blushing, "you cannot guess--"
"Why he is angry? No."
"It seems to me, it is some whim about Muguet."
"Bah! truly; then you must send the girl away. I will not deprive
myself of a friend like Maurice for the sake of a _femme-de-chambre_."
"Oh!" said Geneviève, "he is not, I think, so angry as to require her
to be sent away; it will suffice to--"
"What?"
"To exile her from my chamber."
"And Maurice is right," said Dixmer; "it is you he comes to visit,
and not Muguet; it is therefore quite unnecessary that she should be
present."
"But, my dear Dixmer," replied she, regarding her husband with
astonishment.
"Geneviève," replied Dixmer, "I hoped to have found in you an ally
who would render more easy the task imposed upon me, and find, on the
contrary, that your fears redouble our dangers and difficulties. Four
days since I thought all was settled between us, and now everything
must be done over again. Have I not told you that I confide in you, in
your honor? Have I not told you that it is positively necessary that
Maurice should become our friend, more intimate than before, but less
suspicious than ever? Oh, _mon Dieu!_ these women are an everlasting
obstacle to our projects."
"But, is there no other way? I have told you before, that for all our
sakes it would be better if Monsieur Maurice returned here no more."
"Yes, for our sakes, perhaps; but for the sake of her who is far above
us, of her for whom we have promised to sacrifice our lives, fortune,
and happiness, it is necessary that this young man should return. Are
you aware they begin to suspect Turgy, and talk of placing another
servant near the queen?"
"Well, I will send away Muguet."
"Gracious Heaven! Geneviève," said Dixmer, with a movement of
impatience very unusual with him, "why do you speak to me thus;
why stifle the ardor of my ideas by your own; why strive to create
difficulties where too many already exist? Geneviève, act like an
honorable, devoted woman; act as you feel you ought to act. I tell you,
to-morrow I go out--to-morrow I take Morand's place as engineer. I
shall not dine with you, but he will; he has something to ask Maurice,
and will explain to you what it is. What he has to request you may
imagine, Geneviève, is a thing of vital import; it is not indeed the
goal to which we march, but the way leading to it. It is the last hope
of that devoted, noble-minded man, our protector, to whom we are bound
to dedicate our lives."
"And for whom I will freely give mine," cried Geneviève, with
enthusiasm.
"Well, this man, Geneviève, I cannot tell why, as you must have seen
is not loved by Maurice, by whom, above all things, it is necessary he
should be respected. In short, from the bad temper in which you have
put Maurice to-day, he may perhaps refuse Morand that which it is so
imperative we should obtain at any price. Do I now need to tell you,
Geneviève, to what dread end your petty delicacy and sentimentality are
leading Morand?"
"Oh, sir!" cried Geneviève, clasping her hands and turning pale, "let
us never mention that!"
"Then," said Dixmer, pressing his lips to his wife's forehead, "reflect
upon it, and form your resolution;" and he went out.
"O my God!" murmured Geneviève, with anguish, "with what violence do
they compel me to accept this love toward which my whole soul inclines!"
The next day, as we have already said, was Sunday.
It was customary in the family of Dixmer, as in all the bourgeoise
families at that period, that the dinner should be longer and more
ceremonious on that day than on any other. Since their intimacy,
Maurice, having received a general invitation, never omitted to dine
with them on that day. Although they did not dine till two o'clock,
Maurice used to come at noon.
From the manner of their parting, however, Geneviève almost despaired
of seeing him that Sunday.
In short, twelve o'clock struck, then half-past, then one.
It would be impossible to describe what passed in the heart of
Geneviève during this period of anxious expectation.
She was at first dressed with the greatest simplicity; then, seeing
that he delayed his coming, she, with a feeling of coquetry natural
to the heart of woman, had placed a flower at her side, a flower in
her hair, and still listened, her heart each moment beating faster
and faster. The dinner-hour had almost arrived, and Maurice had not
appeared.
At ten minutes to two, Geneviève heard the sound of a horse's feet,
that sound she knew so well.
"Oh!" cried she, "his pride could not wrestle against his love. He
loves me! he loves me!"
Maurice dismounted, and gave his horse to the gardener, desiring him to
remain where he was. Geneviève saw with anxiety that the gardener did
not lead the horse to the stables.
Maurice on this day looked superlatively handsome. A splendid black
coat, a white waistcoat, breeches of chamois leather designed for limbs
after the model of Apollo, a white cambric stock, and his waving hair,
displaying a fresh, beaming face, formed altogether a type of manly
beauty.
He entered. As we have already said, his presence swelled the heart of
Geneviève, who received him joyfully. "Ah!" said she, holding out her
hand, "you have come to dine with us, have you not?"
"On the contrary, Citizen," said Maurice, coldly, "I have come to ask
your permission to absent myself."
"To absent yourself?"
"Yes; the sectional affairs claim my attention. I feared you might
wait, and would accuse me of being wanting in politeness, therefore
came to make my excuses in person."
Geneviève again felt her heart sink within her.
"Ah, _mon Dieu_!" cried she, "and Dixmer, who does not dine at home,
counted upon finding you here on his return, and desired me to detain
you."
"Ah, then, Madame! I comprehend your importunity, it is a command of
your husband's; and I not to guess all this! I shall never cure myself
of conceit."
"Maurice!"
"It is for me, Madame, to draw my inference from your actions rather
than your words; it is for me therefore to comprehend that if Dixmer is
absent the greater the reason I should not remain. His absence would
surely add to your constraint."
"Why so?" timidly inquired Geneviève.
"Because you appear, since my return, sedulously to avoid me,
notwithstanding I returned for your sake, and yours only; and you well
know, _mon Dieu!_ that ever since my return I have invariably found
some one with you."
"Then," said Geneviève, "you are still angry, _mon ami_, although I
endeavor to act for the best."
"No, Geneviève; you would do much better to receive me as before, or
drive me away altogether."
"Maurice," said Geneviève, tenderly, "understand my situation, consider
my anguish, and do not enact the tyrant over me any longer."
And the young woman regarded him mournfully.
Maurice remained silent.
"What do you require then?" continued she.
"I require your love, Geneviève; since I now feel I cannot live without
that love."
"Maurice! have pity on me."
"Then, Madame, you leave me to die."
"To die?"
"Yes, to die, or to forget."
"You could then forget?" said Geneviève, the tears rushing from her
heart to her eyes.
"Ah, no, no!" said Maurice, falling on his knees before her; "no,
Geneviève, I may die, perhaps, but forget you, never, never!"
"And yet," replied Geneviève, with firmness, "that would be the best,
Maurice; for this love is criminal."
"Have you said this to Monsieur Morand?" said Maurice, recalled to
himself by her sudden frigidity of manner.
"Monsieur Morand is not a madman like yourself, and has never yet
compelled me to indicate to him how he should conduct himself in the
house of a friend."
"I wager," said Maurice, smiling ironically, "that if Dixmer dines out
Morand is not absent. Ah, Geneviève, by this means you can always deter
me from loving you; for while Morand is here, forever at your side, not
quitting you even for a single moment," continued he, contemptuously,
"I should not love you, or rather I should not confess that I loved
you."
"And I," cried Geneviève, driven to extremity by this eternal
suspicion, and seizing the young man's arm with a species of frenzy,
"I swear solemnly--now, Maurice, mark me well, and let it be once for
all--that Morand has never breathed to me a word of love, that he
neither loves me nor ever will love me. I swear this on my honor; I
swear this by the soul of my mother.
"Alas! alas!" said Maurice, "I wish I could believe you."
"Oh, believe me, poor foolish youth!" said she, with a smile which, to
any one else than one blind with jealousy, would have been a charming
confession of the state of her heart,--"believe me. Besides, if you
wish to know more, Morand loves a woman in whose presence all others
sink into insignificance, as the flowers of the field fade before the
stars of heaven."
"And who is this woman who is able to eclipse all other women,"
demanded Maurice, "when among the number we find Geneviève?"
"Do we not always," said Geneviève, smiling, "consider the one we love
as the _chef d'œuvre_ of the creation?"
"Then," said Maurice, "if you do not love me, Geneviève--"
The young woman waited with anxiety the end of the sentence.
"If you do not love me," continued Maurice, "will you at least swear
never to love another?"
"Ah! that, Maurice, I will swear with all my heart," cried the young
woman, delighted that he had thus compromised with her conscience.
Maurice seized the hands she was raising to Heaven, and covered them
with ardent kisses.
"And now," said he, "I will be kind, indulgent, and confiding. I will
even be generous. I wish to see you smile, and myself to be happy."
"And you will ask me nothing more?"
"I will endeavor."
"And now," said Geneviève, "I think it will be useless to hold the
horse any longer. The section will wait."
"Oh, Geneviève! the whole world might wait, if I could only stay with
you!"
Steps were heard in the court-yard.
"They come to tell us that dinner is ready," said Geneviève. They
silently pressed each other's hands.
It was Morand, who came to tell them they only awaited their presence
at table. He also was in full dress for the Sunday's dinner.