long Switzerland was mentioned, and Italy; the owner of the Tower had
travelled extensively, he described vividly the different countries he
had visited, interspersing his narrative with curious anecdotes,
incidents that had happened to him on the road and in public houses. And
he told it all without ostentation, simply and with a facility that
fascinated his hearers. The moments passed and no one thought of the
time.
Suddenly Paul stopped, as if ashamed of having monopolized the general
attention so long.
“I am afraid that I have abused your patience and bored you,” he said.
“Forgive me; you see how dangerous it is to receive one who has been a
long while without talking.”
“We should be very happy,” replied Honorine, “if you would come
sometimes and bore us in this same way. It must be very sad to live
alone all the time, to see no one. Are you a misanthrope?”
“I have abundant reason to be.”
“And you are determined to see only evil-minded persons about you?”
“Ah! I no longer say that, madame!”
“And will it always be necessary for your dog to come here in order to
induce you to honor us with a visit?”
Paul was about to reply, when the dog, who up to that time had lain
quietly at his feet, suddenly raised his head, pricked up his ears and
gave a low, prolonged growl.
“Well, well! what is it, Ami?” said Agathe; “are you tired of staying
with us? do you want to go?”
The dog seemed to be listening, and in a moment began to growl again.
“This is strange!” said Paul, “there must be a cause for this exhibition
of temper on Ami’s part; his eyes are blazing and his hair is standing
on end.”
Ami left the room abruptly and rushed into the garden, barking
violently.
“There certainly is something wrong,” said Edmond; “perhaps some
nocturnal prowler is passing the house.”
They had all followed the dog, which continued to bark, rushing against
the wall, as if he wished to scale it.
“Mon Dieu! are we surrounded by robbers?” exclaimed Honorine.
“This is very extraordinary!” said Paul; “I have never seen him in such
a fit of anger; he is ordinarily content to bark at people whom he
doesn’t like or doesn’t know. But see what a frenzy he is in now; it is
impossible to pacify him--he won’t listen to me.”
Ami ascended the steps leading to the summer-house, and from there he
leaped over the wall, and darted along the road. Paul hurried to the
gate and started in pursuit of his dog. Edmond would have followed him,
but the two ladies held him back, for they were afraid and unwilling to
be left without a protector.
XIV
THE PATH
“Well, monsieur,” said Thélénie to her husband, as he entered her
chamber, “I gave you several commissions two or three days ago; I asked
you to find out who that small boy was who threw stones at me, and who
was the owner of an enormous dog that jumped at me; what have you found
out?”
Chamoureau began by looking at himself in a mirror which happened to be
in front of him--a habit common to many people, who, while they are
talking to you, do not cease to ogle themselves; and those who do it are
not the most comely!
“My dear love,” replied Chamoureau, after smiling at his image, “as for
the small boy, I know nothing as yet. The peasants are not always
inclined to give you information when you question them; they imagine
that you’re making fun of them.--As for the dog, that’s a different
matter; I haven’t found him yet--those that I’ve seen don’t correspond
with the description you gave me.”
“I might have known that you wouldn’t be capable of discovering
anything. Luckily, my friend the baron is here; I will place the matter
in his hands, and he will be more skilful than you.”
“I don’t know whether Monsieur de Schtapelmerg will be more skilful than
I--in fact, I doubt it. Still, it’s no wonder that I am preoccupied,--I
have such an interesting question in my head.”
“For heaven’s sake, what have you in your head, monsieur?”
“The age of trees, madame, the age of trees, which I mean to succeed in
determining exactly.”
“What good will it do, monsieur? what’s the use of knowing the exact age
of a tree?”
“Why, madame, it will be a wonderful discovery, of the very greatest
utility--for wood-choppers and dealers in wood! To be able to say the
instant you see a tree: ‘It is so old--it was born under such a
reign;’--why, it will be magnificent! and I shall succeed in doing
it!--Ah! here’s our dear friend the Baron von Schtapelmerg.”
Croque entered the room; he was pale and haggard, and he did not walk
with his usual swagger. He nodded to the husband and wife.
“Good-morning, noble baron,” said Chamoureau, offering him his hand.
“You’re not ill, are you? You have rather a tired look this morning.”
“I slept badly; it doesn’t amount to anything; it will disappear after a
few puffs of smoke.”
“What a fellow! he prefers a pipe to a cigar!”
“We old soldiers are used to a pipe.”
“Have you served, baron?”
“Yes, I made the campaign of--of--the war against the Turks.”
“Ah! you have fought against the Turks; no doubt that was when you
received that wound on the left cheek, which left you that noble scar?”
“Exactly; it was a lance thrust.”
“Do the Turks fight with lances?”
“Always--unless they use some other weapon.”
“Give me your arm, baron,” said Thélénie, “and let us go for a walk
while monsieur reflects concerning the age of trees.”
“I am at your service, _belle dame_.”
“What is there new?” inquired Thélénie, when she and Croque had left the
room. “Your appearance is quite agitated.”
“_Sacredié!_ there’s reason enough! I had a scare last night, and I’m
all of a tremble still.”
“What was the cause of this scare?”
“About ten o’clock I walked in the direction of our ladies’ house. I
wanted to examine the locality, take a look at the walls, in short, find
out where there was a good chance to get inside; because, of course, I
don’t expect to fascinate the girl--I’m not good-looking enough, I do
myself justice; if I want to arrive at my end, I’ve got to do it by
surprise--by force.”
“Well--what then? what then?”
“I was prowling round the garden wall, and before long I heard a dog
growling. I didn’t pay any attention to it at first, but as I was
running my hands over a place where the wall is rather rickety, the
barking got louder and fiercer; I discovered that the dog was close to
me, that there was nothing but the wall between us. They called him
from the house and tried to quiet him; time thrown away. I says to
myself: ‘That’s a dangerous beast; let’s stand off shore!’--So I turned
tail. In another minute what did I have at my heels but the infernal
dog, who had leaped the wall, no doubt, and started after me. Fear gave
me wings; I flew--and so did the damned dog! However, he only succeeded
in getting hold of the tail of my coat, and it remained in his jaws; I
managed to escape. But, _bigre!_ it was high time! Look, see this big
piece gone out of my coat--the cloth was very stout and new, so the
beast must have pulled hard.”
“Upon my word! I didn’t expect to hear anything like this; I thought you
were brave and strong, one of those men, in short, whom nothing
terrifies, who recoil before no danger! And here you are all upset and
cowed because a dog ran after you! You make me blush! Didn’t you have
your cane to beat the dog off with?”
“Oh! my girl! one minute! let’s not put on airs; let’s not act as if we
wanted to make Bibi angry!--To be sure, I am bold; with men I don’t
retreat, and I am not afraid; but with a dog--that’s another
matter!--Besides, I have a good reason to be afraid of them; didn’t I
come near being strangled by Monsieur Duronceray’s dog? Didn’t he make
this wound on my face, that I’ve still got the scar of? And it’s deep,
too! I don’t know why, but it seemed to me last night as if it was that
same dog that chased me.”
“What nonsense! he must be dead long ago!”
“Why dead? he was very young then--not more than a year and a half; so
he’d be ten or eleven now; dogs live much longer than that.”
“Well, after what you have told me, I see that it’s of no use to rely on
you to undertake anything against the girl.”
“If those women always have that dog to guard them, it will be rather
hard.”
“They have no dog in the house; their gardener, whom I took care to
employ a few days ago, told me so. It was a mere chance that there was
one in their house last night.--But this young man coming this way--it
is Edmond! At last I have an opportunity to speak to him. Leave me,
Croque--go away.”
“All right; I will join your estimable husband and breakfast with him.”
“Be careful not to get tipsy as you did the other day; for, when you do,
you entirely forget your rôle.”
“Don’t worry, _belle dame_, I will retain my self-respect.”
Edmond was walking slowly along the road; he was thinking of Agathe,
whose husband he ardently desired to be; but he was thinking also of the
future.
On his last trip to Paris, he had made up his accounts and tried to
bring some semblance of order out of the chaos of his affairs; he had
paid all his creditors and had found that he possessed only sixteen
thousand francs. With that amount a tradesman may start in business on
a small scale; but that was not the lot in life which Edmond desired to
offer to Agathe.
“To have a pleasant voice and be able to sing decently--that isn’t
enough to marry on,” he was saying to himself; “I should have done
better to think of getting rich.”
Absorbed in his thoughts as he was, the young man had not seen Thélénie,
who was close beside him when he raised his eyes. He started back as if
to retrace his steps; but it was too late, the young woman with the
great black eyes had already taken his arm, saying:
“What! you propose to turn back because you find me here? Am I so very
odious to you then? Does the sight of me produce such an intensely
disagreeable effect on you?”
“Not at all, madame; but it occurred to me that we had nothing to say to
each other, and in that case----”
“You are mistaken, monsieur--I have many things to say to you; I am not
like you! Oh! don’t be alarmed; look in all directions--we are alone,
quite alone; no one will see you talking with me, and your mistress will
not make a scene!”
“I have no mistress, madame; I love an honorable, virtuous young lady,
and I expect to make her my wife when I am in a position to assure her a
happy and tranquil future at least, if not a brilliant one. So you see
that there is no question of a mistress.”
Thélénie seemed to reflect for a few moments; then she replied, assuming
an air of good-fellowship:
“Oh! that makes a difference; in that case, forgive me, Edmond; people
have spoken about these ladies to me in rather a sneering way; I know
that the world is very cruel, that slander is its sweetest recreation.
But if you propose to marry this young lady, I have no doubt that she
deserves all your love; and I will not venture to criticise your
choice.”
This was said with an air of sincerity which instantly changed Edmond’s
sentiments; his expression became trustful once more, and he offered his
hand to Thélénie.
“Good!” he said; “I like to hear you talk so; I have never been willing
to believe, myself, in the spitefulness of women; I am not like
Freluchon, who always thinks that he is being deceived.”
“Oh! but Freluchon always deserves to be.”
“Then you are no longer angry with me?”
“Angry with you? of course not. Why should I bear you a grudge? our
liaison came to an end, because everything must come to an end. Besides,
I am married; I have married thirty thousand francs a year; do you
suppose that I am not content with my lot?”
“I am overjoyed to find you like this.”
“Frankly, you must have a large supply of self-esteem, to think that you
would find me otherwise, and that I still sighed for you!”
“I did not think that; but you made so many threats----”
“Ha! ha! ha! I thought that you were better acquainted with the human
heart. But you are reassured now, aren’t you? You are no longer afraid
of my stabbing you?”
“It never went so far as that!”
“You will no longer avoid me as soon as you see me?”
“Of course not!”
“Because one is no longer a lover is no reason for not being a friend,
is it? I have always thought not. You will come to see me; I insist upon
it; otherwise I shall think that you still hate me.”
“I do not go into society here; I go only to Madame Dalmont’s.”
“But we are not new acquaintances; was not my husband your friend? If
you should refuse to come to see us, it might suggest strange ideas to
him, knowing--and he does know it--that you are living in this
neighborhood.”
“I thought that Chamoureau had no ideas that were not agreeable to you.”
“Mon Dieu! that man loves me; it is his greatest pleasure to gratify my
wishes; don’t charge that to him as a crime! And because a woman has led
rather an agitated life, do you suppose that when she is once married,
she can’t behave herself and make her husband happy?”
“I think that one can always behave oneself when one has firmly
determined to do so, and that it is never too late to atone for one’s
errors.”
“Ah! it’s very lucky that you are willing to admit that. When will you
dine with us?”
“I tell you again, I don’t go into society; I give all my time to the
person to whom I am paying court; that is natural certainly.”
“I fancy that she does not demand that you should break with all your
acquaintances.”
“She demands nothing; in this matter I simply follow my own
inclinations; but I will call to see you--I promise.”
“I told my husband to write to Freluchon. I am going to give very soon a
grand dinner party and ball; I propose to dazzle all the good people of
this region, which, by the way, is not very difficult. I love to believe
that Monsieur Freluchon will be one of us; I shall have also a few
devotees of lansquenet and baccarat--fine players. They will come from
Paris, by the way; for here they don’t play to lose or win more than
fifteen sous!--it’s pitiful! I, you know, have always liked to play for
high stakes, and thank heaven! I am able now to gratify all my tastes.
Adieu, monsieur l’amoureux, monsieur l’ermite. I shall send you an
invitation to my ball, and if you will condescend to spare us an hour,
we shall be most grateful.”
And Thélénie, with a friendly nod to Edmond, walked away.
“Decidedly, I was foolish to be alarmed,” he said to himself, as he bent
his steps toward Agathe’s abode; “Thélénie no longer thinks of me; she
is rich, she has reached the position to which she aspired--what more
can she want?--Besides, do such women ever know real love? She thinks
of nothing but making a sensation and playing the _grande dame_. She
kept her eyes fixed on Agathe a long while; but that was because she did
not expect to find such perfect beauty here. That she may have felt some
vexation, I can understand. Thélénie is not accustomed to having anyone
dispute the sceptre of beauty with her; and I’ll wager that that was her
only reason for not including those two ladies among her guests. She
doesn’t propose to have a woman at her parties who is prettier than
herself.”
On her side Madame de Belleville went away from the interview well
pleased with herself, and thinking that she would attain her object much
more surely by banishing all suspicion from Edmond’s mind.
She had taken a path that skirted a thinly settled part of the village,
to shorten the distance to her house. This path was quite narrow and
lined with wild blackberry bushes. A small boy was busily engaged
looking for blackberries where the bushes were densest, heedless of the
risk of tearing his clothes, which were already in a wretched state.
When he caught sight of Thélénie, he cried:
“Aha! she ain’t on horseback to-day! that woman won’t ride me down
again!”
Thélénie heard these words and recognized the urchin to whom she had
administered divers blows with her crop. She stopped in front of him,
gazing at him with a stern expression; but little Emile sustained her
glance without lowering his eyes for an instant.
“Ah! it’s you, is it, little good-for-nothing! Are you going to throw
stones at me to-day?”
“I say! you ain’t on horseback!”
“And if I were, would you throw stones at my horse again, to frighten
him and make him rear? You would have been very glad if I had fallen,
wouldn’t you?”
“It would have made me laugh.”
“What a little rascal! What is your name?”
“I dunno.”
“You don’t know your name?”
“I won’t tell you.”
“And your parents--what are their names? what is their business? where
do they live?”
“Catch me telling you, so you can go and complain and get me a scolding!
I ain’t such a fool!”
Thélénie examined the little fellow and could not help admiring the
beauty of his eyes, whose bold and mocking expression gave strong
indications of an extremely self-willed nature.
“You won’t tell me your name?”
“I ain’t got any.”
“And the dog that came to your assistance the other day--he is yours, of
course?”
“No, he ain’t mine.”
“But you know him, don’t you?”
“Oh! I guess I do.”
“Whom does he belong to?”
“To the man that owns the Tower.”
“Who is the man that owns the Tower?”
“Why, he’s the bear, as they call him round here; but for all that he
ain’t so ugly as folks thought, the bear ain’t, for he bought Guillot’s
house and gave him money too. Would you do that?”
“I don’t know what you mean.--Is the dog with you often? does he know
you--as he came to your defence?”
“Oh! he don’t like me much; it wasn’t me that he wanted to help; he
wanted to bite you!”
“Oho! do you think so? Then I must find out why the beast should show so
much bad feeling against me. You say his master lives at the Tower?
Where is that?”
“A fine big place over on the other side of the Marne, near Gournay. I
say! there’s a great old park there--bigger’n yours.”
“Really! I must see that; and the owner of the dog is probably that boor
whom no one about here will receive except Madame Dalmont.”
“Ah! she’s a kind lady, she is! she gives me cherries and sous; she
wouldn’t beat me with her whip--I’ve still got the marks of it!”
“If you had been beaten more, you wouldn’t be such a little vagabond.
But I’ll find out your name and your parents’ in spite of you.”
“You’ll be smarter’n other folks then! Good-day, madame!”
The little boy ran away with a mocking expression and Thélénie walked
on, saying to herself:
“How can it be that a peasant’s child has such lovely eyes?”
XV
TWO GENTLEMEN AFTER DINNER
Several days had passed. Paul had paid frequent visits to the two
friends in the evening, and his sombre humor was beginning to disappear.
His face no longer wore that forbidding look which intimidated the
country people; as he talked with Honorine his voice became less harsh,
his eyes softer.
The young widow, on her side, experienced an entirely unfamiliar
sensation when the master of the Tower seated himself at her side. That
sensation afforded pleasant occupation for her heart; she felt happier
than ever before, and did not attempt to conceal her happiness, because
she saw no harm in the interest which she felt in a man who had hitherto
always been betrayed in his affections.
More than once Agathe had said to her:
“You ought to ask Monsieur Paul to tell us his adventures; then we
should finally learn the story of the ravine. We should learn why he
went at night to the cross that marks the place where someone was
killed.”
But Honorine would reply:
“I do not like to invite confidences; it would seem to indicate
curiosity, suspicion even. So long as a person does not tell us his
griefs, it means that he does not think us likely to be interested in
them. Let us wait. It is a good deal gained that Monsieur Paul should
have abandoned for our sakes his uncivilized, solitary habits; he comes
to see us, and that is a great compliment on the part of a man who never
speaks to anyone. But we can’t expect him to treat us at once like old
friends.”
“Why not? his dog made friends with us at once, and since he divines a
person’s feeling toward his master, it seems to me that the master might
well follow his dog’s example.”
The owners of the Goldfish Villa had issued their invitations for the
gorgeous fête which they proposed to give in their new abode. Nothing
was talked about in Chelles but the preparations that were in progress
at Monsieur and Madame de Belleville’s. Workmen had been brought from
Paris; there was to be an illumination and fireworks in the garden. The
courtyard and avenue were encumbered with shrubs, and boxes filled with
rare flowers; upholsterers had come to renew the hangings, and painters
to touch up the stairs and stair-rails. Everything was in commotion, and
in the midst of it all Chamoureau, bewildered by the crowds of people
coming and going and by the noise that arose on all sides, often took
refuge in the depths of his park, saying to himself:
“Those people drive me crazy; they will prevent me from finding what I
seek--that discovery which may throw open the doors of the Academy to
me. I feel sure that I am on the point of putting my finger on it. I
will go and reflect upon it, while I contemplate the trees in my park.”
On the eve of the day appointed for this grand function, which had
thrown the whole village of Chelles into commotion, Freluchon arrived at
nightfall, and not finding Edmond at home, was on his way to Madame
Dalmont’s, where he was certain of finding him, when he collided with
somebody at a street corner.
“Hallo! it’s Chamoureau!” cried Freluchon; “delighted to meet you, my
dear fellow. But why did you hurl yourself at me in that way? Are you
getting short-sighted?”
“No, not at all; but I wasn’t looking to see where I was going; I was
absorbed in my ideas.”
“Sapristi! you must have some very profound ideas then, since you became
Monsieur de Belleville.”
On that day Chamoureau had, as usual, dined with his new friend the
baron, and the two gentlemen had indulged somewhat too freely in the
pomard with which one of the cellars of the villa was stored. So that,
after dinner, they had felt the need of a short walk in the country.
“Dear Freluchon,” said Chamoureau; “so you received our invitation for
to-morrow?”
“To be sure I did; and that is why I came to-night, so as to be on hand
to-morrow.”
“You’ll pass the night with us; that’s very nice; we’ll give you a
splendid room. Oh! we have plenty of them; we have bought an enchanting
place here--so dainty and elegant! It’s a little Parc-aux-Cerfs.”
“Ah! do you have stags--_cerfs_--here?”
“No; that’s a figure of speech; I allude to a royal pleasure-house.”
“If you did have stags[B] in your house, it wouldn’t surprise me.--I am
much obliged to you for your proffered hospitality, but I do not need to
incommode you; I have my room here in Edmond’s house.”
[B] Another covert allusion to “wearing the horns,” or being a cuckold.
“Ah! you stay with Edmond, do you? You would be much better off with us;
it’s more elegant there and more comfortable.”
“My dear Chamoureau, I don’t doubt that everything is magnificent in
your house, but I am very comfortable at Edmond’s, and I shall sleep
there. Moreover, as you may readily imagine, I have accepted your
invitation for to-morrow from curiosity. When I learned that you had
bought a country house at Chelles----”
“An estate!”
“Well! isn’t a country house an estate?”
“Yes, but when you say a country-house, it seems to mean just a place to
sleep, a little box to loaf in over Sunday; whereas an ‘estate’! that
instantly denotes something of value, of importance--something vast.”
“_Bigre!_ how we do effervesce since we became Chamoureau de Belleville!
But don’t you want me to say a château--a palace? I’ll call it whatever
you please!”
“I want--I want above all things that you shouldn’t call me Chamoureau
again!”
“Oh! as for that, I can’t promise.”
“If you call me that at our party to-morrow, it will be infinitely
disagreeable to me.”
“Why did you invite me then?”
“It wasn’t I who invited you, it was my wife.”
“Ah! thanks! I recognize you there. Well, my amiable friend, as you were
not the one who invited me, I am perfectly justified in telling you that
I am going to your fête to-morrow solely from curiosity, to laugh a
little; because I am persuaded that there will be some amusing sights
there--not counting you--and lastly because I am curious to see how you
receive your old friends now that you are rich and noble and have a
palace!--There! are you content with me? Ha! ha! you must tell your wife
not to invite me another time.”
Chamoureau bit his lips.