IX

After confessing his love, Jules experienced, mingled with his

exultation, a feeling of bewildered amazement at his own boldness. This

was followed by a poignant regret that he hadn't spoken before. Now,

however, that his weeks of doubt and of intermittent misery were over,

he gave himself up to his happiness, which manifested itself in a wild

exuberance of spirits.

In a short time he was speaking humorously of those weeks, ridiculing

himself as if he had already become different, almost another person

from what he had been then. He told Blanche about his tortures, and even

succeeded in extorting a confession from her that she had been in love

with him since the first Sunday when he had called at the apartment and

acknowledged Durand's duplicity; she, too, had had her doubts and her

fears. Then they became very confidential, and by the time the morning

was over, and they found themselves in the restaurant, they felt as if

they had known each other intimately for years.

In spite of Blanche's protests, Jules ordered a bottle of champagne and

an elaborate luncheon.

"I suppose I ought to have asked Madeleine to come," he said, "but I

wanted to be alone with you. Some day before your mother returns, we'll

have another _fete_, and take Madeleine with us."

In the morning, when he spoke about a definite engagement, and she

protested that her mother must be consulted, he had told her of his talk

with Madame Perrault at the railway station. Now he went on to make

plans for their marriage. There was no reason, he argued, why they

should wait a long time; her mother had been engaged to Monsieur

Berthier for three years, but she would not marry till Blanche had a

protector. Jules liked to talk of himself in this character; it gave him

a feeling of importance. So, altogether, he went on, the sooner the

marriage took place the better. He would give up his place in the

wool-house, and devote himself to his wife's career; for, of course,

they couldn't be separated. They would be very happy travelling about,

from one end of the world to the other.

It never occurred to either of them that Blanche might retire from the

ring after marriage. She herself seemed to regard the circus as part of

her life; she had been born in it, and she belonged to it as long as she

was able to perform. As for Jules, he could not have dissociated her

from the thought of the circus. Even now he felt as if he had himself

become wedded to it, that he had acquired a kind of proprietary interest

in it. He discussed Blanche's professional engagements as if they were

his own. Why, he asked, couldn't the marriage take place during the

weeks that intervened between her engagement at the _Cirque Parisien_

and her appearance in Vienna? Jeanne and Louise could come up to Paris

for Christmas and the New Year, and be present at the ceremony. By that

time he would have his affairs arranged so that he could go with her to

Vienna.

Of course, they must dismiss Pelletier after their marriage. Jules would

take charge of his wife's affairs; his capacity for business would

enable him to make good terms for her. He would plan wonderful tours; he

would write to America, perhaps, and secure engagements for her there;

artists were wonderfully well paid in America, better than in any other

country, and they would enjoy seeing the new world together.

Blanche listened to his talk with a touching confidence; she seemed to

think it natural that he should speak as if he had authority over her.

She made no protest against any of his suggestions, though she repeated

that nothing could be decided till her mother returned to Paris.

"But we'll write to your mother," said Jules. "We'll write to her this

very day--this afternoon when we go back."

For a moment her face clouded.

"What's the matter? Don't you want me to write to your mother?"

She did not reply at once. When she did speak, she kept her eyes fixed

on her plate.

"It will be so hard to be separated from her."

Jules laughed, and bent toward her.

"But you can't stay with her always," he said tenderly. "Then we'll take

Madeleine with us. That will be a capital plan. She's strong and

healthy, though she's over sixty, and she won't mind the travelling.

Besides, we shall be in Vienna three months, and we'll rent a little

apartment. It will be like being at home."

He spoke as if their future were settled, and his tone of confidence

seemed to reassure her.

"I should like to have Madeleine," she said simply. "She is so good."

On their return to the apartment, they devoted themselves to writing

long letters to Madame Perrault. Jules' letter was full of rhapsodies,

of promises to be kind to the girl who had consented to be his wife, and

of his plans for the future. They read their letters to each other, or

rather Jules read all of his, and Blanche read part of hers, firmly

refusing to allow him to hear the rest. They spent a very happy

afternoon together, and in the evening Madeleine had a sumptuous dinner

for them, with an enormous bunch of fresh roses on the table. In the

evening they went to the _Comedie Francaise_, to finish what Jules

declared to be the happiest day of his life.

Jules counted that day as the beginning of his real career. He looked

back on himself during the years he had lived before it almost with

pity. Since leaving the _lycee_, he had been merely a drudge, a piece of

mechanism in the odious machinery of business. He had been content

enough, but with the contentment of ignorance. How lonely and sordid his

existence out of the office had been! He thought of his solitary dinners

in _cafes_, surrounded by wretched beings like himself deprived of the

happiness that comes from home and from an honest love. To the twins and

his other comrades at the office he said nothing of the change that had

taken place in his life; he was afraid they would chaff him; of course,

when they heard he was going to marry an acrobat, they would make

foolish jokes and treat him with a familiar levity. He determined not to

tell them of his marriage until the eve of his departure from business;

he would have to give the firm at least a fortnight's notice; but he

would merely explain to Monsieur Mercier that he intended to devote a

few months to travel, and thought of going to America.

Madame Perrault replied at once to Jules' letter. She made no pretence

of being surprised by the news it contained; and she expressed her

pleasure at the engagement, and gave her consent. But they must not make

any definite plans until her return to Paris. That would be in about two

weeks, for Aunt Sophie was very much better now and rapidly gaining

strength, though she had as yet been unable to leave her bed. As soon as

Sophie could go out, she was to be carried to the house of her cousin,

Angelique Magnard, who would give her the best of care. Then Madame

Perrault would be able to take Jeanne and Louise to Paris for the

holidays; the girls were wild to see their dear Blanche again and to

meet Jules. Monsieur Berthier talked of coming with them; he, too, was

eager to make the acquaintance of Blanche's future husband.

After these preliminaries, Madame Perrault devoted herself to practical

matters. She felt it her duty to inform Monsieur Jules that Blanche had

no _dot_; she had earned a great deal of money, but most of it had been

spent in maintaining the family; since the death of her father she had

been their sole support. Of course, after marriage, her daughter's

earnings would belong to Jules; but he must distinctly understand that

he was taking a penniless bride. After her own marriage, Madame Perrault

would have no fear for the future; Monsieur Berthier had promised of his

own accord to provide for the girls; indeed, it was chiefly for their

sake that, at the age of fifty-three, she was willing to marry again. So

Blanche would no longer have her family dependent on her.

Jules replied with an impassioned letter. He didn't care whether Blanche

had a _dot_ or not. He wanted to marry her because he loved her, because

without her his life would be unendurable: he would marry her if she

were the poorest girl in France. It took him several pages to say this,

and he read the letter with satisfaction, and then aloud to Blanche, who

laughed over it, and gave him a timid little kiss in acknowledgment of

his devotion. He thought he had done a commendable act, and he felt

convinced that every word he had written was true.

At the office Jules grew reserved, and he resented haughtily the

familiarities of the twins. Indeed, to all of his companions in the wool

house he could not help displaying the superiority he felt. He would be

there only a few weeks longer, and he acted as if he were conferring a

favor on his employer by staying. The twins spent many hours in

discussing the change in him; but they could not discover the cause.

"You ought to have heard him talk to old Mercier the other day," said

Leroux. "You'd think he was the President receiving a deputation."

Early in November, Blanche received a letter from her mother, saying

Aunt Sophie was so much better that they had decided to move her the

next day, and two days later she would herself leave Boulogne with the

girls and Monsieur Berthier. Jules was both glad and sorry to hear the

news,--sorry because his long _tete-a-tetes_ with Blanche would end for

a time, and glad because he would be able to arrange definitely with her

mother for the marriage. Madeleine grieved at parting with the girl, but

was consoled when Jules explained that she would probably be needed

every night at the circus after Madame Perrault's return, for, of

course, Monsieur Berthier would want to take his _fiancee_ to the

theatres. In speaking of Monsieur Berthier, Jules had adopted a

facetious tone, which half-amused and half-pained Blanche.

"How droll it will be," he said one day, "to have two pairs of lovers

billing and cooing together."

"Mamma doesn't bill and coo," the girl replied, with just a suggestion

of resentment in her tone. "She's too sensible." Then Jules patted her

affectionately on the cheek, and told her she mustn't take what he said

so seriously.

"Monsieur Berthier must be a very good man, or he wouldn't get such a

good wife," he said lightly. Then, with a comic look in his eyes, he

added as an afterthought: "What a very good person I must be!"

The next night, when Jules appeared in the _rue St. Honore_ for dinner,

he found the little apartment crowded. Madame Perrault embraced him, and

by addressing him as "my son," seemed to receive him formally into the

family. Then she introduced the two girls, who were much larger than he

had imagined them to be. Jeanne, rosy-cheeked and black-eyed, approached

him fearlessly, and offered her hand with a smile; Louise, fair and

slight, with her light brown hair braided down her back, looked

frightened, and blushed furiously when she received her salutation. The

little fat man standing in front of the mantel, Jules recognized at once

from his pointed white beard and laughing eyes.

"I should have known you in a crowd on the _Boulevard_," Jules said, as

he extended his hand. "You're exactly like your photograph."

"And you are even better-looking than Mathilde said you were," Monsieur

Berthier replied. "Ah, little one," he went on, turning to Blanche, and

giving her a pinch on the arm, "you're getting a fine, handsome

husband."

Jules tried to make friends with the girls. With Jeanne he had no

difficulty; she was quite ready to banter with him, and he found her

pert and quick-witted. Louise, however, was so shy that he could extract

only monosyllables from her. She seemed to him very like Blanche, only

less pretty. Jeanne had Blanche's beauty, more highly-colored and

exuberant; her snapping black eyes showed, too, that she had a will and

a temper of her own. Jules began to chaff her, to make her show her

spirit, but she parried his jests good-humoredly, and she retaliated

very smartly.

"I don't see how you ever dared to fall in love with Blanche," she said.

"Aren't you afraid of her?"

"Afraid of her?" Jules laughed. "Why should I be afraid of her?"

"Oh, I don't know. I suppose because she's so good. I'm afraid of her

sometimes. And I'm afraid of Louise when she gets her pious look on. How

did you happen to fall in love with her? Do tell me. I'll never tell in

the world."

"I just saw her, that's all," Jules explained with mock gravity. "Isn't

that enough?"

"In the circus?"

Jules nodded.

"Then you fell in love with her because she does such wonderful things,

and looks so beautiful in the ring. Now, you wouldn't have fallen in

love if you'd just met her like any one else."

"But it was because she wasn't like anyone else that I did fall in love

with her," Jules insisted, with the air of carrying on the joke.

"But if she'd never been in the circus--if you'd just met her here, or

anywhere else except in the circus--do you think you would have fallen

in love with her then?"

"Of course I should," Jules replied unhesitatingly, though he knew he

was lying.

Jeanne shrugged her shoulders and looked skeptical.

"I wish I could be in the circus," she said, "and get flowers, and be

admired, and earn a lot of money like Blanche. And isn't it the funniest

thing," she went on, growing more confidential, "Blanche doesn't care

about it at all."

"About the flowers, and being admired, and all that?"

"Yes. And she says the circus isn't a good place for a young girl. But I

say if it's good enough for her, it's good enough for me. Anyway, if

mamma doesn't let me do what Blanche does, I'm going on the stage when I

grow up."

Jules was amused by her talk, and drew her out by deft questions. While

she was animatedly describing her life in the convent of Boulogne, where

the nuns were always holding up Louise as a model of good behavior to

her, dinner was announced, and they all went out into the dining-room,

where Jules and Blanche had passed so many hours together. This time

Jules' place was between Jeanne and Louise. Jeanne went on with her

chatter, and Louise scarcely spoke, save to Blanche, with whom she kept

exchanging affectionate smiles.

"The girls are vexed with me," said Madame Perrault, "because I won't

let them go to the Circus to-night."

The pale face of Louise brightened with eagerness and Jeanne turned to

her mother and cried pleadingly:

"Oh, I think it's a shame. The first time we've been in Paris, too, and

we want to see Blanche perform again so much! Why can't we go, mamma?

Please, please let us go."

"Oh, let the children go," said Monsieur Berthier good-naturedly. "It

would be cruel to send them to bed early their first night in Paris."

Then Jules added his voice in the girls' behalf, but Madame Perrault

shook her head decidedly.

"I can't have them up so late. Besides, they need to rest after their

journey. If you are good, Jeanne, and don't tease me to go to-night,

I'll take you and Louise to the _matinee_ on Saturday."

"Oh, the _matinee_!" Jeanne pouted, turning for sympathy to Jules. "Who

cares for the _matinee_! Isn't it too bad?" she went on in a low voice,

so that her mother shouldn't hear her. "When I grow up, Monsieur Jules,

I shall go to the theatre every night--yes, every night of my life. I

don't care what happens."

Jeanne was sullen and Louise looked sad when they were left alone with

Charlotte, the little maid.

"I won't go to bed till twelve o'clock," Jeanne cried, as her mother,

with parting injunctions, went out, followed by the others. "I shall sit

up and cry all the evening."

"Nine o'clock, my dear," said Madame Perrault serenely. "You know what I

said about Saturday."

The door was slammed behind them and, as they filed downstairs, they

heard Jeanne go stamping back into the _salon_.

"Don't you think you're severe with the child, Mathilde?" said Berthier.

"No, Felix, not too severe, if you mean that. It's the only way to keep

her in check. She has too much spirit. I'm afraid of it sometimes."

"That's just the way you used to be at her age," he laughed.

"And that's just why I mean to keep her down," she replied, almost

sternly.

"Jeanne has all the spirit of the family," said Berthier, glancing at

Jules.

After the performance they returned to the apartment for supper. Jules

was surprised to find the table steaming with hot dishes, bright with

flowers and with wine-glasses. Madeleine, who seemed to be in the

secret, put on an apron, and proceeded to assist Charlotte.

"We've prepared a little feast for you," Madame Perrault explained, "in

honour of Blanche's engagement. Felix has provided the champagne."

Berthier rubbed his hands and smiled, and they took their places at the

table. They were all hungry and in good spirits. This was the happiest

time of the day for Blanche; though she never consciously worried about

her work, she always felt relieved when her performance was done, and

she was free to go home and rest. The little rosy-cheeked Charlotte

busied herself around them, passing dishes and bringing on fresh ones.

"It's a shame to keep this poor child up so late," said Berthier, when

she had left the room for a moment. "Why not send her to bed?"

"I'll send her as soon as she brings in the rest of the things," Madame

Perrault replied. "She and Madeleine can have something to eat together.

I sha'n't have to send Madeleine home with you to-night, Jules. We've

made a bed for her in Charlotte's room. She's a good creature, your

Madeleine."

Charlotte came in with the rest of the dishes, and Madame Perrault told

her to eat something, and go to bed. "And tell Madeleine not to wait up

for us. You can clear the things away in the morning. Did Jeanne go to

bed at nine o'clock, Charlotte?"

"Yes, madame."

"And without any trouble?"

"Yes, madame."

"What did she do to amuse herself during the evening?"

Charlotte's cheeks took on a deeper red.

"She tried to imitate Mademoiselle Blanche in the circus," she

confessed.

"Ah, that accounts for the broken chair! Good night, Charlotte." Then,

as the girl left the room, Madame Perrault sighed. "That Jeanne will be

the death of me."

"I'll take her in hand when she comes to me," Berthier laughed. "We'll

have to find a husband for her. That will cure her of her craze for the

circus."

"A husband for Jeanne, little Jeanne!" Madame Perrault exclaimed in

horror. "She's barely fourteen."

"And in two years she'll be a woman. I was in love with you at fifteen.

Don't you remember? We thought of eloping."

"_Taisez-vous!_" cried Madame Perrault, flushing, and trying not to join

in the laughter that the speech excited from Jules. "You make me a great

fool before my daughter and my new son."

"He isn't your son yet," Berthier insisted, to tease her.

"But he will be soon."

"That's just what I wanted you to say!" Jules cried. "The sooner the

better. Tomorrow would suit me."

The glasses had been filled with champagne, and Berthier lifted his

glass high in the air, crying:

"Let us drink to the _fiances_! May their marriage be long and their

engagement short! Here's health and happiness to them!"

They all stood up smiling and drank together. Then as they sat down

again, Berthier went on:

"Ah, I know the folly of long engagements. Get married, get married, my

children, as soon as you can, while love is young. I once knew a young

girl--as beautiful as the morning--more beautiful, a thousand times more

beautiful. Well, this young girl loved a handsome, yes, I may say a

fairly handsome, at any rate, an honest young fellow, who fairly

worshipped her in return. But the stern parents of this beautiful young

girl----"

"_Taisez-vous!_" Madame Perrault repeated. "No more nonsense. If your

beautiful young girl hadn't obeyed her parents, where would Blanche

Perrault be at this moment, I should like to know?"

"Ah, my friend," said Berthier to Jules, "it's the women who forget.

Only the men are constant in this world."

Madame Perrault rolled her eyes in mock horror.

"Constant--the men!" she repeated scornfully. "They don't know what

constancy is. If it weren't for the constant women in the world, the men

would go straight to the devil."

Berthier burst into hilarious laughter. He loved nothing better than to

be vanquished in an argument by Madame Perrault. Indeed, he often argued

simply in order to provoke her. He gave Jules a quick glance and a nod

which plainly said: "Isn't she a fine woman? Have you ever seen a woman

so clever?"

The innocent pleasantries of the old lovers, however, were lost on

Jules. He wanted to discuss in all seriousness his forthcoming marriage,

and this was certainly a suitable occasion. So he determined to put the

conversation on another basis.

"I am sure Monsieur Berthier is right about long engagements," he said,

"and there's no reason why our engagement shouldn't be short. I love

Blanche, and Blanche loves me, and we think we can make each other

happy. I can afford to marry--I have a little property--and when she

marries me Blanche will have a protector in her professional career."

"Bravo!" cried Berthier. "That was said like a man!"

"And the sooner I'm married, the better for you," Jules went on, fixing

his eyes on Berthier's white beard. "Then Madame Perrault won't be tied

down to Blanche, and there's no reason why you shouldn't be married,

too."

"We might have a double marriage!" said the little man jocosely.

"No, no, _no_!" Madame exclaimed. "When I'm married I shall be married

very quietly in Boulogne, without any fuss. These children shall be

married first. Then some day, Felix, you and I shall walk to the church

and it will be over in five minutes."

Berthier breathed a long sigh, and laid his hand gently on Madame

Perrault's arm.

"I've waited a great many years for those five minutes, _cherie_."

"Blanche's engagement at the Circus ends the last day of the year,"

Jules resumed, "and she begins her season in Vienna on the fifteenth of

January. Now, there's no reason in the world that I can think of to

prevent our being married between the first of January and the

fifteenth."

Then, from every point of view, they discussed the time of the marriage.

Madame Perrault raised the question of dresses for the bride, of Jules'

inability to arrange his affairs in so short a time, but these and all

other objections were overruled.

Blanche herself had very little to say; when her mother asked her

point-blank if she wanted the marriage to take place so early, she

replied that she was willing if Jules and the others decided it was

best. She seemed more like a passive spectator than one actively

interested in the discussion; her eyes kept roving from Jules to her

mother, and from her mother back to Jules. Berthier supported Jules

valiantly, and at two o'clock, Madame Perrault was finally won over, and

it was decided that the marriage should take place during the first week

in January. Jules kissed Blanche on the cheek, and there was general

embracing and laughter. Then the little party broke up, and Monsieur

Berthier followed Jules down the stairs.

"Ah, my boy," he said, as they stood on the sidewalk, before saying

good-night, "I'd give all the money I've made for your youth. Youth is

the time for love. In my youth it came to me, but I lost it. Take good

care of it, my friend," he concluded, tapping Jules' hand affectionately

as they were about to go their separate ways.

X

Jules at once began preparations for his marriage. He gave notice of his

intention to leave the wool-house, and to move from his apartment.

Monsieur Mercier showed no regret at his departure. "I've observed that

you were no longer interested in your work," he said coldly.

Jules turned away with a sense of disappointment and pain, feeling that

he had been badly treated. Though he said nothing to the twins about his

going, they speedily heard of it and gibed him for the reason. He

preferred to maintain an air of mystery, but one morning Leroux came

into the office, shaking a copy of the _Triomphe_ in the air.

"Let me congratulate you!" he cried, extending his hand. "I respect a

man that can make a stroke like that. I've known you were up to some

game all along," he added insinuatingly.

Jules looked at the paper, and in the column devoted to news of the

theatre he read of the engagement of Mademoiselle Blanche, of the

_Cirque Parisien_, to Monsieur Jules Le Baron, a young business man of

wealth. Dufresne added his congratulations, and one after another during

the day Jules' other comrades came up to shake his hand. No wonder he

had been putting on airs with them! They treated him very jocosely,

however, teased him about his reputed wealth, and tortured him with

their coarse jokes, so that he looked forward with relief to escaping

from them.

All of Jules' leisure was passed with Blanche and her family. He made

friends with the girls and with Monsieur Berthier. The better acquainted

he became with Louise the more he liked her; Jeanne sometimes vexed him

by making fun of him, though he was careful not to betray his annoyance.

For Monsieur Berthier he felt a genuine esteem; the little man was

always in good humor, though Jules suspected that, in spite of his

success in business, his whole life had been clouded by the

disappointment of his youth. As for Madame Perrault, notwithstanding the

apparent lightness of her character, which had at first prejudiced him

against her, the effective way in which she managed her affairs made him

realize that she was a woman to be respected. Sometimes Jules wondered

what kind of man Blanche's father had been; he fancied that of the two

the mother had been by far the stronger.

Jules passed Christmas with his friends and spent a month's salary on

gifts for Blanche and her sisters. For the girls Madame had a _fete_ in

the morning after mass, with a Christmas tree laden with presents, and

decorated with candles and trinkets and _bonbons_. She chose this time

of day, as both in the afternoon and evening Blanche gave performances.

The next morning Madame Perrault learned through Pelletier that the

circus in Vienna where Blanche had been engaged to appear was a little

more than ninety feet high; so the plunge would be fifteen feet deeper

than it was in Paris. This news created excitement in the family. It

made Madame so nervous that she urged that the engagement be given up

and an offer that had come from Nice be accepted; but Jules laughed at

the idea.

"What's a difference of fifteen feet to Blanche?" he said. "It's just as

easy for her to dive ninety feet as to dive seventy-five. The only thing

for Blanche to do is to go to Vienna as soon as her engagement here is

over. Then she can practise the plunge every morning for two weeks.

We'll simply have to get married a little earlier than we intended."

Madame Perrault saw the force of the argument, and Monsieur Berthier

seconded Jules. As for Blanche, she declared that she should not be

afraid of the plunge; at Bucharest she had made a plunge of nearly

eighty-three feet. So it was agreed that the civil marriage should take

place very quietly on the third of January, and the religious ceremony

the day after. Jules and his bride could leave Paris by the afternoon

train, accompanied by Madeleine. Madame Perrault was anxious to keep any

notice out of the papers, if possible; she thought it might injure

Blanche professionally. She had been greatly vexed by the paragraph in

the _Triomphe_ and had attributed it to Durand; but Jules explained that

the _Triomphe_ was not Durand's paper; besides, the journalist had been

sent for the winter to the Riviera as correspondent.

On the last day of the year Jules bade farewell to his associates at the

wool-house. Most of them regretted his departure, for before his sudden

accession of dignity he had been well liked among them. The next

morning, on the first day of his emancipation, when he went to the

apartment in the _rue St. Honore_, he found some pieces of silver there,

the gift of his old comrades. He knew at once that the twins had started

a subscription for him, and he felt ashamed of his treatment of them

during his last weeks among them. He soon forgot about them, however,

and was absorbed in the preparations for his new life. He had sold most

of his furniture, save a few pieces that were so intimately associated

with the memory of his mother that he could not part with them.

For Madeleine this was a trying time; she performed her numerous duties,

involving several journeys to the _rue St. Honore_, with a look of

bewilderment in her face, as if she could not adjust herself to the

change that was about to take place in her life.

Two days before the time chosen for their civil marriage, Jules was

sitting alone with Blanche, beside the fireplace where he had passed

most of his courtship. They had been making plans for Vienna, and Jules

felt as if he were already at the head of a household.

"Do you know," he said, glancing at the engagement ring on her left hand

that sparkled in the firelight, "I haven't been able to make up my mind

yet what to give you for a wedding present. I wish you'd tell me what

you'd like. I want to give you something that will please you very

much."

She looked intently into the fireplace, and did not reply.

"Isn't there something that you want especially?" Then Jules saw her

face flush, and he went on quickly: "Ah, I know there is, but you're

afraid to tell. Now, out with it. Is it a diamond brooch, or one of

those queer little gold watches that women carry, set with jewels, or

one of those bracelets that we saw in the shop in the _rue de la Paix_

the other day?"