Organization
The absence of Andermatt was prolonged. M. Aubry-Pasteur got the soil
dug up. He found, in addition, four springs, which supplied the new
Company with more than twice as much water as they required. The entire
district, driven crazy by these searches, by these discoveries, by the
great news which circulated everywhere, by the prospects of a brilliant
future, became agitated and enthusiastic, talked of nothing else, and
thought of nothing else. The Marquis and Gontran themselves spent their
days hanging round the workmen, who were boring through the veins of
granite; and they listened with increasing interest to the explanations
and the lectures of the engineer on the geological character of
Auvergne. And Paul and Christiane loved one another freely, tranquilly,
in absolute security, without anyone suspecting anything, without
anyone thinking even of spying on them, for the attention, the
curiosity, and the zeal of all around them were absorbed in the future
station.
Christiane acted like a young girl under the intoxication of a first
love. The first draught, the first kiss, had burned, had stunned her.
She had swallowed the second very quickly, and had found it better, and
now again and again she raised the intoxicating cup to her lips.
Since the night when Paul had broken into her apartment, she no longer
took any heed of what was happening in the world. For her, time,
events, beings, no longer had any existence; there was nothing else in
life save one man, he whom she loved. Henceforth, her eyes saw only
him, her mind thought only of him, her hopes were fixed on him alone.
She lived, went from place to place, ate, dressed herself, seemed to
listen and to reply, without consciousness or thought about what she
was doing. No disquietude haunted her, for no misfortune could have
fallen on her. She had become insensible to everything. No physical
pain could have taken hold of her flesh, as love alone could, so as
to make her shudder. No moral suffering could have taken hold of
her soul, paralyzed by happiness. Moreover, he, loving her with the
self-abandonment which he displayed in all his attachments, excited the
young woman's tenderness to distraction.
Often, toward evening, when he knew that the Marquis and Gontran had
gone to the springs, he would say, "Come and look at our heaven." He
called a cluster of pine-trees growing on the hillside above even the
gorges their heaven. They ascended to this spot through a little wood,
along a steep path, to climb which took away Christiane's breath. As
their time was limited, they proceeded rapidly, and, in order that she
might not be too much fatigued, he put his arm round her waist and
lifted her up. Placing one hand on his shoulder, she let herself be
borne along; and, from time to time, she would throw herself on his
neck and place her mouth against his lips. As they mounted higher, the
air became keener; and, when they reached the cluster of pine-trees,
the odor of the balsam refreshed them like a breath of the sea.
They sat down under the shadowy trees, she on a grassy knoll, and he
lower down, at her feet. The wind in the stems sang that sweet chant of
the pine-trees which is like a wail of sorrow; and the immense Limagne,
with its unseen backgrounds steeped in fog, gave them a sensation
exactly like that of the ocean. Yes, the sea was there in front of
them, down below. They could have no doubt of it, for they felt its
breath fanning their faces.
He talked to her in the coaxing tone that one uses toward a child.
"Give me your fingers and let me eat them--they are my bonbons, mine!"
He put them one after the other into his mouth, and seemed to be
tasting them with gluttonous delight.
"Oh! how nice they are!--especially the little one. I have never eaten
anything better than the little one."
Then he threw himself on his knees, placed his elbows on Christiane's
lap, and murmured:
"'Liane,' are you looking at me?" He called her Liane because she
entwined herself around him in order to embrace him the more closely,
as a plant clings around a tree. "Look at me. I am going to enter your
soul."
And they exchanged that immovable, persistent glance, which seems truly
to make two beings mingle with one another!
"We can only love thoroughly by thus possessing one another," he said.
"All the other things of love are but foul pleasures."
And, face to face, their breaths blending into one, they sought to see
one another's images in the depths of their eyes.
He murmured: "I love you, Liane. I see your adored heart."
She replied: "I, too, Paul, see your heart!"
And, indeed, they did see one another even to the depths of their
hearts and souls, for there was no longer in their hearts and souls
anything but a mad transport of love for one another.
He said: "Liane, your eye is like the sky. It is blue, with so many
reflections, with so much clearness. It seems to me that I see swallows
passing through them--these, no doubt, must be your thoughts."
And when they had thus contemplated one another for a long, long time,
they drew nearer still to one another, and embraced softly with little
jerks, gazing once more into each other's eyes between each kiss.
Sometimes he would take her in his arms, and carry her, while he ran
along the stream, which glided toward the gorges of Enval, before
dashing itself into them. It was a narrow glen, where meadows and woods
alternated. Paul rushed over the grass, and now and then he would raise
her up high with his powerful wrists, and exclaim: "Liane, let us fly
away." And with this yearning to fly away, love, their impassioned
love, filled them, harassing, incessant, sorrowful. And everything
around them whetted this desire of their souls, the light atmosphere--a
bird's atmosphere, he said--and the vast blue horizon, in which they
both would fain have taken wing, holding each other by the hand, so
as to disappear above the boundless plain when the night spread its
shadows across it. They would have flown thus across the hazy evening
sky, never to return. Where would they have gone? They knew not; but
what a glorious dream! When he had got out of breath from running while
carrying her in this way, he placed her sitting on a rock in order
to kneel down before her; and, kissing her ankles, he adored her,
murmuring infantile and tender words.
Had they been lovers in a city, their passion, no doubt, would have
been different, more prudent, more sensual, less ethereal, and less
romantic. But there, in that green country, whose horizon widened the
flights of the soul, alone, without anything to distract them, to
attenuate their instinct of awakened love, they had suddenly plunged
into a passionately poetic attachment made up of ecstasy and frenzy.
The surrounding scenery, the balmy air, the woods, the sweet perfume
of the fields, played for them all day and all night the music of
their love--music which excited them even to madness, as the sound of
tambourines and of shrill flutes drives to acts of savage unreason the
dervish who whirls round with fixed intent.
One evening, as they were returning to the hotel for dinner, the
Marquis said to them, suddenly: "Andermatt is coming back in four
days. Matters are all arranged. We are to leave the day after his
return. We have been here a long time. We must not prolong mineral
water seasons too much."
They were as much taken by surprise as if they had heard the end of the
world announced, and during the meal neither of them uttered a word, so
much were they thinking with astonishment of what was about to happen.
So then they would, in a few days, be separated and would no longer
be able to see one another freely. That appeared so impossible and so
extraordinary to them that they could not realize it.
Andermatt did, in fact, come back at the end of the week. He had
telegraphed in order that two landaus might be sent on to him to meet
the first train.
Christiane, who had not slept, tormented as she was by a strange and
new emotion, a sort of fear of her husband, a fear mingled with anger,
with inexplicable contempt, and a desire to set him at defiance, had
risen at daybreak, and was awaiting him. He appeared in the first
carriage, accompanied by three gentlemen well attired but modest in
demeanor. The second landau contained four others, who seemed persons
of rank somewhat inferior to the first. The Marquis and Gontran were
astonished. The latter asked: "Who are these people?"
Andermatt replied: "My shareholders. We are going to establish
the Company this very day, and to nominate the board of directors
immediately."
He embraced his wife without speaking to her, and almost without
looking at her, so preoccupied was he; and, turning toward the seven
gentlemen, who were standing behind him, silent and respectful:
"Go and have breakfast, and take a walk," said he. "We'll meet again
here at twelve o'clock."
They went off without saying anything, like soldiers obeying orders,
and mounting the steps of the hotel one after another, they went in.
Gontran, who had been watching them as they disappeared from view,
asked in a very serious tone:
"Where did you find them, these 'supers' of yours?"
The banker smiled: "They are very well-to-do men, moneyed men,
capitalists."
And, after a pause, he added, with a more significant smile: "They busy
themselves about my affairs."
Then he repaired to the notary's office to read over again the
documents, of which he had sent the originals, all prepared, some days
before. There he found Doctor Latonne, with whom, moreover, he had been
in correspondence, and they chatted for a long time in low tones, in a
corner of the office, while the clerks' pens ran along the paper, with
the buzzing noise of insects.
The meeting to establish the Company was fixed for two o'clock. The
notary's study had been fitted up as if for a concert. Two rows
of chairs were placed for the shareholders in front of the table,
where Maître Alain was to take his seat beside his principal clerk.
Maître Alain had put on his official garment in consideration of
the importance of the business in hand. He was a very small man, a
stuttering ball of white flesh.
Andermatt entered just as it struck two, accompanied by the Marquis,
his brother-in-law, and Bretigny, and followed by the seven gentlemen,
whom Gontran described as "supers." He had the air of a general.
Père Oriol also made his appearance with Colosse by his side. He
seemed uneasy, distrustful, as people always are when about to sign a
document. The last to arrive was Doctor Latonne. He had made his peace
with Andermatt by a complete submission preceded by excuses skillfully
turned, and followed by an offer of his services without any reserve or
restrictions.
Thereupon, the banker, feeling that he had Latonne in his power,
promised him the post he longed for, of medical inspector of the new
establishment.
When everyone was in the room, a profound silence reigned. The notary
addressed the meeting: "Gentlemen, take your seats." He gave utterance
to a few words more, which nobody could hear in the confusion caused by
the moving about of the chairs.
Andermatt lifted up a chair, and placed it in front of his army, in
order to keep his eye on all his supporters; then, when he was seated,
he said:
"Messieurs, I need not enter into any explanations with you as to
the motive that brings us together. We are going, first of all, to
establish the new Company in which you have consented to become
shareholders. It is my duty, however, to apprise you of a few details,
which have caused us a little embarrassment. I have found it necessary,
before even entering on the undertaking at all, to assure myself that
we could obtain the required authority for the creation of a new
establishment of public utility. This assurance I have got. What
remains to be done with respect to this, I will make it my business
to do. I have the Minister's promise. But another point demands my
attention. We are going, Messieurs, to enter on a struggle with the
old Company of the Enval waters. We shall come forth victorious in
this struggle, victorious and enriched, you may be certain; but, just
as in the days of old, a war cry was necessary for the combatants, we,
combatants in the modern battle, require a name for our station, a name
sonorous, attractive, well fashioned for advertising purposes, which
strikes the ear like the note of a clarion, and penetrates the ear like
a flash of lightning. Now, Messieurs, we are in Enval, and we can not
unbaptize this district. One resource only is left to us. To designate
our establishment, our establishment alone, by a new appellation.
"Here is what I propose to you: If our bathhouse is to be at the foot
of the knoll, of which M. Oriol, here present, is the proprietor, our
future Casino will be erected on the summit of this same knoll. We may,
therefore, say that this knoll, this mountain--for it is a mountain, a
little mountain--furnishes the site of our establishment, inasmuch as
we have the foot and the top of it. Is it not, therefore, natural to
call our baths the Baths of Mont Oriol, and to attach to this station,
which will become one of the most important in the entire world, the
name of the original proprietor? Render to Cæsar what belongs to Cæsar.
"And observe, Messieurs, that this is an excellent vocable. People will
talk of 'the Mont Oriol' as they talk of 'the Mont Doré.' It fixes
itself on the eye and in the ear; we can see it well; we can hear it
well; it abides in us--Mont Oriol!--Mont Oriol!--The baths of Mont
Oriol!"
And Andermatt made this word ring, flung it out like a ball, listening
to the echo of it. He went on, repeating imaginary dialogues: "'You are
going to the baths of Mont Oriol?'
"'Yes, Madame. People say they are perfect, these waters of Mont Oriol.'
"'Excellent, indeed. Besides, Mont Oriol is a delightful district.'"
And he smiled, assumed the air of people chatting to one another,
altered his voice to indicate when the lady was speaking, saluted with
the hand when representing the gentleman.
Then he resumed, in his natural voice: "Has anyone an objection to
offer?"
The shareholders answered in chorus: "No, none."
All the "supers" applauded. Père Oriol, moved, flattered, conquered,
overcome by the deep-rooted pride of an upstart peasant, began to smile
while he twisted his hat about between his hands, and he made a sign
of assent with his head in spite of him, a movement which revealed his
satisfaction, and which Andermatt observed without pretending to see
it. Colosse remained impassive, but was quite as much satisfied as his
father.
Then Andermatt said to the notary: "Kindly read the instrument whereby
the Company is incorporated, Maître Alain."
And he resumed his seat. The notary said to his clerk: "Go on,
Marinet."
Marinet, a wretched consumptive creature, coughed, and with the
intonations of a preacher, and an attempt at declamation, began to
enumerate the statutes relating to the incorporation of an anonymous
Company, called the Company of the Thermal Establishment of Mont Oriol
at Enval with a capital of two millions.
Père Oriol interrupted him: "A moment, a moment," said he. And he
drew forth from his pocket a few sheets of greasy paper, which during
the past eight days had passed through the hands of all the notaries
and all the men of business of the department. It was a copy of the
statutes which his son and himself by this time were beginning to know
by heart. Then, he slowly fixed his spectacles on his nose, raised
up his head, looked out for the exact point where he could easily
distinguish the letters, and said in a tone of command:
"Go on from that place, Marinet."
Colosse, having got close to his chair, also kept his eye on the paper
along with his father.
And Marinet commenced over again. Then old Oriol, bewildered by the
double task of listening and reading at the same time, tortured by the
apprehension of a word being changed, beset also by the desire to see
whether Andermatt was making some sign to the notary, did not allow
a single line to be got through without stopping ten times the clerk
whose elocutionary efforts he interrupted.
He kept repeating: "What did you say? What did you say there? I didn't
understand--not so quick!"
Then turning aside a little toward his son: "What place is he at,
Coloche?"
Coloche, more self-controlled, replied: "It's all right, father--let
him go on--it's all right."
The peasant was still distrustful. With the end of his crooked finger
he went on tracing on the paper the words as they were read out,
muttering them between his lips; but he could not fix his attention
at the same time on both matters. When he listened, he did not read,
and he did not hear when he was reading. And he puffed as if he had
been climbing a mountain; he perspired as if he had been digging his
vine-fields under a midday sun, and from time to time, he asked for a
few minutes' rest to wipe his forehead and to take breath, like a man
fighting a duel.
Andermatt, losing patience, stamped with his foot on the ground.
Gontran, having noticed on a table the "Moniteur du Puy-de-Dome," had
taken it up and was running his eye over it, and Paul, astride on his
chair, with downcast eyes and an anxious heart, was reflecting that
this little man, rosy and corpulent, sitting in front of him, was going
to carry off, next day, the woman whom he loved with all his soul,
Christiane, his Christiane, his fair Christiane, who was his, his
entirely, nothing to anyone save him. And he asked himself whether he
was not going to carry her off this very evening.
The seven gentlemen remained serious and tranquil.
At the end of an hour, it was finished. The deed was signed. The notary
made out certificates for the payments on the shares. On being appealed
to, the cashier, M. Abraham Levy, declared that he had received the
necessary deposits. Then the company, from that moment legally
constituted, was announced to be gathered together in general assembly,
all the shareholders being in attendance, for the appointment of a
board of directors and the election of their chairman.
All the votes with the exception of two, were recorded in favor of
Andermatt's election to the post of chairman. The two dissentients--the
old peasant and his son--had nominated Oriol. Bretigny was appointed
commissioner of superintendence. Then, the Board, consisting of MM.
Andermatt, the Marquis and the Count de Ravenel, Bretigny, the Oriols,
father and son, Doctor Latonne, Abraham Levy, and Simon Zidler, begged
of the remaining shareholders to withdraw, as well as the notary and
his clerk, in order that they, as the governing body, might determine
on the first resolutions, and settle the most important points.
Andermatt rose up again: "Messieurs, we are entering on the vital
question, that of success, which we must win at any cost.
"It is with mineral waters as with everything. It is necessary to get
them talked about a great deal, and continually, so that invalids may
drink them.
"The great modern question, Messieurs, is that of advertising. It is
the god of commerce and of contemporary industry. Without advertising
there is no security. The art of advertising, moreover, is difficult,
complicated, and demands a considerable amount of tact. The first
persons who resorted to this new expedient employed it rudely,
attracting attention by noise, by beating the big drum, and letting off
cannon-shots. Mangin, Messieurs, was only a forerunner. To-day, clamor
is regarded with suspicion, showy placards cause a smile, the crying
out of names in the streets awakens distrust rather than curiosity. And
yet it is necessary to attract public attention, and after having fixed
it, it is necessary to produce conviction. The art, therefore, consists
in discovering the means, the only means which can succeed, having in
our possession something that we desire to sell. We, Messieurs, for our
part, desire to sell water. It is by the physicians that we are to get
the better of the invalids.
"The most celebrated physicians, Messieurs, are men like ourselves--who
have weaknesses like us. I do not mean to convey that we can corrupt
them. The reputation of the illustrious masters, whose assistance we
require, places them above all suspicion of venality. But what man
is there that cannot be won over by going properly to work with him?
There are also women who cannot be purchased. These it is necessary to
fascinate.
"Here, then, Messieurs, is the proposition which I am going to make to
you, after having discussed it at great length with Doctor Latonne:
"We have, in the first place, classified in three leading groups the
maladies submitted for our treatment. These are, first, rheumatism in
all its forms, skin-disease, arthritis, gout, and so forth; secondly,
affections of the stomach, of the intestines and of the liver; thirdly,
all the disorders arising from disturbed circulation, for it is
indisputable that our acidulated baths have an admirable effect on the
circulation.
"Moreover, Messieurs, the marvelous cure of Père Clovis promises us
miracles. Accordingly, when we have to deal with maladies which these
waters are calculated to cure, we are about to make to the principal
physicians who attend patients for such diseases the following
proposition: 'Messieurs,' we shall say to them, 'come and see, come and
see with your own eyes; follow your patients; we offer you hospitality.
The country is magnificent; you require a rest after your severe labors
during the winter--come! And come not to our houses, worthy professors,
but to your own, for we offer you a cottage, which will belong to you,
if you choose, on exceptional conditions.'"
Andermatt took breath, and went on in a more subdued tone:
"Here is how I have tried to work out this idea. We have selected six
lots of land of a thousand meters each. On each of these six lots,
the Bernese 'Chalets Mobiles' Company undertakes to fix one of their
model buildings. We shall place gratuitously these dwellings, as
elegant as they are comfortable, at the disposal of our physicians.
If they are pleased with them, they need only buy the houses from
the Bernese Company; as for the grounds, we shall assign them to the
physicians, who are to pay us back--in invalids. Therefore, Messieurs,
we obtain these multiplied advantages of covering our property with
charming villas which cost us nothing, of attracting thither the
leading physicians of the world and their legion of clients, and above
all of convincing the eminent doctors who will very rapidly become
proprietors in the district of the efficacy of our waters. As to all
the negotiations necessary to bring about these results I take them
upon myself, Messieurs; and I will do so, not as a speculator but as a
man of the world."
Père Oriol interrupted him. The parsimony which he shared with the
peasantry of Auvergne made him object to this gratuitous assignment of
land.
Andermatt was inspired with a burst of eloquence. He compared the
agriculturist on a large scale who casts his seed in handfuls into the
teeming soil with the rapacious peasant who counts the grains and never
gets more than half a harvest.
Then, as Oriol, annoyed by this language, persisted in his objections,
the banker made his board divide, and shut the old man's mouth with six
votes against two.
He next opened a large morocco portfolio and took out of it plans
of the new establishment--the hotel and the Casino--as well as the
estimates, and the most economical methods of procuring materials,
which had been all prepared by the contractors, so that they might be
approved of and signed before the end of the meeting. The works should
be commenced by the beginning of the week after next.
The two Oriols alone wanted to investigate and discuss matters. But
Andermatt, becoming irritated, said to them: "Did I ask you for money?
No! Then give me peace! And, if you are not satisfied, we'll take
another division on it."
Thereupon, they signed along with the remaining members of the Board;
and the meeting terminated.
All the inhabitants of the place were waiting to see them going out, so
intense was the excitement. The people bowed respectfully to them. As
the two peasants were about to return home, Andermatt said to them:
"Do not forget that we are all dining together at the hotel. And bring
your girls; I have brought them presents from Paris."
They were to meet at seven o'clock in the drawing-room of the Hotel
Splendid.
It was a magnificent dinner to which the banker had invited the
principal bathers and the authorities of the village. Christiane, who
was the hostess, had the curé at her right, and the mayor at her left.
The conversation was all about the future establishment and the
prospects of the district. The two Oriol girls had found under their
napkins two caskets containing two bracelets of pearls and emeralds,
and wild with delight, they talked as they had never done before, with
Gontran sitting between them. The elder girl herself laughed with all
her heart at the jokes of the young man, who became animated, while he
talked to them, and in his own mind formed about them those masculine
judgments, those judgments daring and secret, which are generated in
the flesh and in the mind, at the sight of every pretty woman.
Paul did not eat, and did not open his lips. It seemed to him that
his life was going to end to-night. Suddenly he remembered that just
a month had glided away, day by day, since the open-air dinner by the
lake of Tazenat. He had in his soul that vague sense of pain caused
rather by presentiments than by grief, known to lovers alone, that
sense of pain which makes the heart so heavy, the nerves so vibrating
that the slightest noise makes us pant, and the mind so wretchedly sad
that everything we hear assumes a somber hue so as to correspond with
the fixed idea.
As soon as they had quitted the table, he went to join Christiane in
the drawing-room.
"I must see you this evening," he said, "presently, immediately, since
I no longer can tell when we may be able to meet. Are you aware that it
is just a month to-day?"
She replied: "I know it."
He went on: "Listen! I am going to wait for you on the road to La Roche
Pradière, in front of the village, close to the chestnut-trees. Nobody
will notice your absence at the time. Come quickly in order to bid me
adieu, since to-morrow we part."
She murmured: "I'll be there in a quarter of an hour."
And he went out to avoid being in the midst of this crowd which
exasperated him.
He took the path through the vineyards which they had followed one
day--the day when they had gazed together at the Limagne for the first
time. And soon he was on the highroad. He was alone, and he felt alone,
alone in the world. The immense, invisible plain increased still more
this sense of isolation. He stopped in the very spot where they had
seated themselves on the occasion when he recited Baudelaire's lines
on Beauty. How far away it was already! And, hour by hour, he retraced
in his memory all that had since taken place. Never had he been so
happy, never! Never had he loved so distractedly, and at the same time
so chastely, so devotedly. And he recalled that evening by the "gour"
of Tazenat, only a month from to-day--the cool wood mellowed with a
pale luster, the little lake of silver, and the big fishes that skimmed
along its surface; and their return, when he saw her walking in front
of him with light and shadow falling on her in turn, the moon's rays
playing on her hair, on her shoulders, and on her arms through the
leaves of the trees. These were the sweetest hours he had tasted in his
life. He turned round to ascertain whether she might not have arrived.
He did not see her, but he perceived the moon, which appeared at the
horizon. The same moon which had risen for his first declaration of
love had risen now for his first adieu.
A shiver ran through his body, an icy shiver. The autumn had come--the
autumn that precedes the winter. He had not till now felt this first
touch of cold, which pierced his frame suddenly like a menace of
misfortune.
The white road, full of dust, stretched in front of him, like a river
between its banks. A form at that moment rose up at the turn of
the road. He recognized her at once; and he waited for her without
flinching, trembling with the mysterious bliss of feeling her drawing
near, of seeing her coming toward him, for him.
She walked with lingering steps, without venturing to call out to him,
uneasy at not finding him yet, for he remained concealed under a tree,
and disturbed by the deep silence, by the clear solitude of the earth
and sky. And, before her, her shadow advanced, black and gigantic, some
distance away from her, appearing to carry toward him something of her,
before herself.
Christiane stopped, and the shadow remained also motionless, lying
down, fallen on the road.
Paul quickly took a few steps forward as far as the place where the
form of the head rounded itself on her path. Then, as if he wanted to
lose no portion of her, he sank on his knees, and prostrating himself,
placed his mouth on the edge of the dark silhouette. Just as a thirsty
dog drinks crawling on his belly in a spring he began to kiss the dust
passionately, following the outlines of the beloved shadow. In this
way, he moved toward her on his hands and knees, covering with caresses
the lines of her body, as if to gather up with his lips the obscure
image, dear because it was hers, that lay spread along the ground.
She, surprised, a little frightened even, waited till he was at her
feet before she had the courage to speak to him; then, when he had
lifted up his head, still remaining on his knees, but now straining her
with both arms, she asked:
"What is the matter with you, to-night?"
He replied: "Liane, I am going to lose you."
She thrust all her fingers into the thick hair of her lover, and,
bending down, held back his forehead in order to kiss his eyes.
"Why lose me?" said she, smiling, full of confidence.
"Because we are going to separate to-morrow."
"We separate? For a very short time, darling."
"One never knows. We shall not again find days like those that we
passed here."
"We shall have others which will be as lovely."
She raised him up, drew him under the tree, where he had been awaiting
her, made him sit down close to her, but lower down, so that she might
have her hand constantly in his hair; and she talked in a serious
strain, like a thoughtful, ardent, and resolute woman, who loves, who
has already provided against everything, who instinctively knows what
must be done, who has made up her mind for everything.
"Listen, my darling. I am very free at Paris. William never bothers
himself about me. His business concerns are enough for him. Therefore,
as you are not married, I will go to see you. I will go to see you
every day, sometimes in the morning before breakfast, sometimes in the
evening, on account of the servants, who might chatter if I went out at
the same hour. We can meet as often as here, even more than here, for
we shall not have to fear inquisitive persons."
But he repeated with his head on her knees, and her waist tightly
clasped: "Liane, Liane, I am going to lose you!"
She became impatient at this unreasonable grief, at this childish grief
in this vigorous frame, while she, so fragile compared with him, was
yet so sure of herself, so sure that nothing could part them.
He murmured: "If you wished it, Liane, we might fly off together, we
might go far away, into a beautiful country full of flowers where we
could love one another. Say, do you wish that we should go off together
this evening--are you willing?"
But she shrugged her shoulders, a little nervous, a little
dissatisfied, at his not having listened to her, for this was not the
time for dreams and soft puerilities. It was necessary now for them to
show themselves energetic and prudent, and to find out a way in which
they could continue to love one another without rousing suspicion.
She said in reply: "Listen, darling! we must thoroughly understand our
position, and commit no mistakes or imprudences. First of all, are you
sure about your servants? The thing to be most feared is lest some one
should give information or write an anonymous letter to my husband. Of
his own accord, he will guess nothing. I know William well."
This name, twice repeated, all at once had an irritating effect on
Paul's nerves. He said: "Oh! don't speak to me about him this evening."
She was astonished: "Why? It is quite necessary, however. Oh! I assure
you that he has scarcely anything to do with me."
She had divined his thoughts. An obscure jealousy, as yet unconscious,
was awakened within him. And suddenly, sinking on his knees and seizing
her hands:
"Listen, Liane! What terms are you on with him?"
"Why--why--very good!"
"Yes, I know. But listen--understand me clearly. He is--he is your
husband, in fact--and--and--you don't know how much I have been
brooding over this for some time past--how much it torments, tortures
me. You know what I mean. Tell me!"
She hesitated a few seconds, then in a flash she realized his entire
meaning, and with an outburst of indignant candor:
"Oh! my darling!--can you--can you think such a thing? Oh! I am
yours--do you understand?--yours alone--since I love you--oh! Paul!"
He let his head sink on the young woman's lap, and in a very soft
voice, said:
"But!--after all, Liane, you know he is your husband. What will you do?
Have you thought of that? Tell me! What will you do this evening or
to-morrow? For you cannot--always, always say 'No' to him!"
She murmured, speaking also in a very low tone: "I have pretended to
be _enceinte_, and--and that is enough for him. Oh! there is scarcely
anything between us--Come! say no more about this, my darling. You
don't know how this wounds me. Trust me, since I love you!"
He did not move, breathing hard and kissing her dress, while she
caressed his face with her amorous, dainty Fingers.
But, all of a sudden, she said: "We must go back, for they will notice
that we are both absent."
They embraced each other, clinging for a long time to one another in a
clasp that might well have crushed their bones.
Then she rushed away so as to be back first and to enter the hotel
quickly, while he watched her departing and vanishing from his sight,
oppressed with sadness, as if all his happiness and all his hopes had
taken flight along with her.