WHEREIN IT IS SHOWN THAT, AS AN ANCIENT GREEK POET SAID,
"NOTHING IS SWEETER THAN APHRODITE THE GOLDEN"
Although he had enjoyed Madame des Aubels' favours for six whole months,
Maurice still loved her. True they had had to separate during the
summer. For lack of funds of his own he had had to go to Switzerland
with his mother, and then to stop with the whole family at the Château
d'Esparvieu. She had spent the summer with her mother at Niort, and the
autumn with her husband at a little Normandy seaside place, so that they
had hardly seen each other four or five times. But since the winter,
kindly to lovers, had brought them back to town again, Maurice had been
receiving her twice a week in his little flat in the Rue de Rome, and
received no one else. No other woman had inspired him with feelings of
such constancy and fidelity. What augmented his pleasure was that he
believed himself loved, and indeed he was not unpleasing.
He thought that she did not deceive him, not that he had any reason to
think so, but it appeared right and fitting that she should be content
with him alone. What annoyed him was that she always kept him waiting,
and was unpunctual in coming to their meeting-place; she was invariably
late,--at times very late.
Now on Saturday, January 30th, since four o'clock in the afternoon,
Maurice had been awaiting Madame des Aubels in the little pink room,
where a bright fire was burning. He was gaily clad in a suit of flowered
pyjamas, smoking Turkish cigarettes. At first he dreamt of receiving her
with long kisses, with hitherto unknown caresses. A quarter of an hour
having passed, he meditated serious and affectionate reproaches, then
after an hour of disappointed waiting he vowed he would meet her with
cold disdain.
At length she appeared, fresh and fragrant.
"It was scarcely worth while coming," he said bitterly, as she laid her
muff and her little bag on the table and untied her veil before the
wardrobe mirror.
Never, she told her beloved, had she had such trouble to get away. She
was full of excuses, which he obstinately rejected. But no sooner had
she the good sense to hold her tongue than he ceased his reproaches, and
then nothing detracted from the longing with which she inspired him.
The curtains were drawn, the room was bathed in warm shadows lit by the
dancing gleams of the fire. The mirrors in the wardrobe and on the
chimney-piece shone with mysterious lights. Gilberte, leaning on her
elbow, head on hand, was lost in thought. A little jeweller, a
trustworthy and intelligent man, had shown her a wonderfully pretty
pearl and sapphire bracelet; it was worth a great deal, and was to be
had for a mere nothing. He had got it from a _cocotte_ down on her luck,
who was in a hurry to dispose of it. It was a rare chance; it would be a
huge pity to let it slip.
"Would you like to see it, darling? I will ask the little man to let me
have it to show you."
Maurice did not actually decline the proposal. But it was clear that he
took no interest in the wonderful bracelet. "When small jewellers come
across a great bargain, they keep it to themselves, and do not allow
their customers to profit by it. Moreover, jewellery means nothing just
now. Well-bred women have given up wearing it. Everyone goes in for
sport, and jewellery does not go with sport."
Maurice spoke thus, contrary to truth, because having given his mistress
a fur coat, he was in no hurry to give her anything more. He was not
stingy, but he was careful with his money. His people did not give him a
very large allowance, and his debts grew bigger every day. By satisfying
the wishes of his inamorata too promptly he feared to arouse others
still more pressing. The bargain seemed less wonderful to him than to
Gilberte; besides, he liked to take the initiative in choosing his
gifts. Above all, he thought that if he gave her too many presents he
would be no longer sure of being loved for himself.
Madame des Aubels felt neither contempt nor surprise at this attitude;
she was gentle and temperate, she knew men, and judged that one must
take them as one found them, that for the most part they do not give
very willingly, and that a woman should know how to make them give.
Suddenly a gas lamp was lighted in the street, and shone through the
gaps in the curtains.
"Half-past six," she said. "We must be on the move."
Pricked by the touch of Time's fleeting wing, Maurice was conscious of
reawakened desires and reanimated powers. A white and radiant offering,
Gilberte, with her head thrown back, her eyes half closed, her lips
apart, sunk in dreamy languor, was breathing slowly and placidly, when
suddenly she started up with a cry of terror.
"Whatever is that?"
"Stay still," said Maurice, holding her back in his arms.
In his present mood, had the sky fallen it would not have troubled him.
But in one bound she escaped from him. Crouching down, her eyes filled
with terror, she was pointing with her finger at a figure which appeared
in a corner of the room, between the fire-place and the wardrobe with
the mirror. Then, unable to bear the sight, and nearly fainting, she hid
her face in her hands.