epigrams discharged by the three girls against men who are not
attentive, who do not do as other men do, who have wretched taste, who
speak to ugly women and neglect pretty ones; and a thousand other
sarcasms inspired by the irritation which it had caused them to see him
devote himself to Madame Dolban.
Dufresne listened to all this very calmly, or, to speak more accurately,
I believe that he did not listen to it at all; but he cared very little
what the people thought who were chattering by his side, and his mind
was too much preoccupied to heed the prattling of the three young women.
At last they reached the Rue des Martyrs. Dufresne left the Devaux
family at their door; he received with a bow the curtsy of the mother,
the cold salutation of Cleopatra, the curt good-evening of Césarine and
the stifled sigh of Cornélie.
IV
PROJECTS OF BLISS
Adeline woke in Edouard’s arms; the young wife felt like an entirely
different person by her husband’s side; one night of love is enough to
establish a pleasing confidence, a loving intimacy, and to banish that
feeling of awe, of timidity which naught but sensual enjoyment can
dispel.
What delightful plans for the future, what a charming existence of
unbroken happiness one devises, when, in the arms of the object of one’s
affection, one abandons oneself without reserve to all the illusions
which embellish the imagination of two young lovers.
Adeline, sweet, sensitive, and loving, was certain that she would always
be happy so long as her Edouard loved her, and that her Edouard would
always love her; she had no doubt of it, nor had he. It is not when a
man has experienced for the first time all the joys of love in the arms
of his wife, that he thinks upon the possibility of changing. Then he is
sincere, he really feels all that he says, and doubtless he would keep
all his promises, if the same joys could always cause the same
pleasures.
It seems, in those moments of expansiveness which follow the
manifestations of love, that the husband and wife were really born for
each other. They have the same tastes, the same thoughts, the same
desires; what one does, the other approves; the husband was just about
to propose what the young wife has planned, they mutually divine each
other’s thoughts, and it seems to them perfectly natural that they
should have but one mind and but one will. Blessed concord! you would
bestow the most perfect happiness, if you might only last forever!
“And so, my dear love,” said Edouard, kissing his wife’s pretty little
hands, “we will pass the winter in Paris, and four months of warm
weather in the country.”
“Yes, my dear, that is agreed.”
“But shall I keep my place in the department? That would prevent me from
leaving the city.”
“You must not keep it! What is the use? We have fifteen thousand francs
a year; is that not enough to be happy?”
“Oh! it is more than we need.”
“Besides, your place would keep you away from me all day and I don’t
want that!”
“Dear Adeline, but your mother--what will she say if I give up my
place?”
“Mamma has but one desire--to make me happy; she will approve our plans,
for she has no more ambition than we have.”
“All right, then it is decided; I send in my resignation to-morrow.”
“Yes, dear.”
“And we will buy a small country house, simple, but in good taste, where
we will live with your mother. Where shall we buy?”
“Where you please, my dear.”
“No, it is for you to decide.”
“You know that I am always of your opinion.”
“Very well, then we will visit the suburbs, we will read the
advertisements, we will consult mamma.”
“That is right, my dear.”
“Shall we entertain much?”
“As you please, my dear.”
“My dear love, that is for you to decide.”
“Very well! then we will receive very few people, for company would
prevent us from being together, from going to walk and to drive alone;
and I feel that that would annoy me terribly!”
“How sweet you are!”
“We will receive just a few friends; mamma’s, for example.”
“Exactly. In the morning we will walk in the garden--for we must have a
garden, mustn’t we?”
“Oh! yes, my dear! A big garden, with lots of shade,--and thickets!”
“Ah! you are already thinking of the thickets!”
“Does that offend you, monsieur?”
Edouard’s only reply was to kiss his wife, press her to his heart,
receive her soft caresses, and--the conversation was interrupted for
several minutes.
“So we will have a big garden with dense thickets,” said Edouard when
they renewed the conversation.
“Yes, my dear,” replied Adeline, smiling, and lowering her eyes, still
glistening with pleasure. “In the evening, we will walk about the
neighborhood, and dance with the village people; or, if the weather is
bad, we will play cards with some of the neighbors. Do you like that
prospect?”
“Yes, my dear love, very much.”
The doting Adeline was always of her husband’s opinion; Edouard refused
to have a will of his own; and they were so in accord that they vied
with each other in seeing who should not be the master, and should not
rule the house.
The young people had reached a very interesting article in the matter of
conjugal happiness: they were thinking of the children they would have,
of the education they would give them and of the professions which they
would advise them to embrace, when there was a gentle tap at the door of
their chamber. It was Madame Germeuil, come to embrace her daughter and
to enjoy the happiness which she read in her eyes. A pleasant sight for
a mother,--which reminded her of the same period in her own life.
Adeline blushed as she kissed her mother; the good woman informed them
that breakfast was awaiting them, and breakfast is a very essential
affair. The bride ate little; she was too preoccupied to have any
appetite; the new ideas which thronged through her brain were enough to
banish every other thought; but it was very different with the groom--he
did not eat, he devoured! An additional proof this that men are less
affectionate than women, since the same cause does not produce the same
result.
During breakfast, the young people spoke to Madame Germeuil of their
plans. The mother made a slight grimace when they told her that Edouard
proposed to give up his place. She attempted to make some objections;
she essayed to prove what a mistake that would be for Murville, who
hoped to be promoted and to become a chief of bureau some day. The young
man said nothing; perhaps he felt in his inmost heart that his
mother-in-law was right; but Adeline entreated her mother with such
grace, she kissed her so lovingly, and drew such a touching picture of
the happiness they would all three enjoy, if they need never part; she
praised so adroitly the pleasures of the country, their scheme of life,
and all the attractions with which they would embellish her existence,
that Madame Germeuil had not the courage to resist her daughter’s
entreaties, and the plan was adopted.
“But,” said Madame Germeuil, “Edouard cannot remain idle. Idleness is a
very dangerous business, and one which often leads us to do foolish
things, which would never have occurred to us if we had been occupied.”
“Oh! never fear, mamma! Edouard will always have occupation! I myself
will undertake to provide him with it! In the first place, all the
details of our affairs;--he will have to look after the management of
our little fortune; and then the care of our little country house, the
time in my company and the walks we shall take----”
“But, my dear love, one cannot walk all the time.”
“Of course not! but then we will rest, or work in the garden. And our
children, to whom you do not give a thought; shall we not have to bring
them up, to look after their education, to guide their first steps?”
“Ah! you are thinking already of your children?”
“Yes, mamma; they come into our plans.”
“What a mad creature you are, my dear Adeline!”
“No, mamma; on the contrary, you will see that I shall be very sensible,
and my husband too.”
Madame Germeuil did not seem altogether convinced of the wisdom of her
daughter’s plans; but she proposed to keep constant watch upon the
conduct of her two children, and she knew that Adeline, always given to
building castles in Spain, would be the first to abandon her errors, if
she should ever commit any. As to Edouard, he would do whatever they
wished, so that it was only a question of giving him good advice, and of
not following the example of his wife, who always agreed with him.
After breakfast they discussed the question where they would live. They
had sent out for a copy of the _Petites-Affiches_; Adeline passed the
paper to her husband, and Madame Germeuil was trying to remember in
which direction the air was likely to be most healthy, when Murville
uttered a cry of surprise and jumped up from his chair.
“What is it, my dear?” asked Adeline, amazed by her husband’s
excitement.
“It is the very place,” said Edouard, still reading the paper; “at
Villeneuve-Saint-Georges, the house looking on the fields, two floors, a
large garden, a summer-house, a courtyard, an iron fence----”
“Well, my dear, is that what nearly made you upset the breakfast table?”
“Oh! my dear love! oh! my dear mamma--that house----”
“Do you know it?”
“Do I know it! It belonged to my father, and I passed a great part of my
youth there.”
“Is it possible?”
“Misfortune compelled us to sell it, but I have always regretted it.”
“Why, my dear, you never mentioned it to us.”
“I didn’t know that it was for sale now.”
“It is settled, my dear, let us not look any farther; we have found what
we want, the house where you passed a large part of your childhood! Dear
Edouard! Oh! how we shall enjoy living there!--You agree, mamma, do you
not?”
“Why, my child, if the house is not too dear----”
“Oh! it can’t be too dear; it is Edouard’s house; we shall be so happy
there!”
“Villeneuve-Saint-Georges--yes, I believe that the air is very good
there!”
“Certainly it’s delicious; let us start at once, dear.”
“But it is already late, my child, for you did not get up early; and if
we should wait until to-morrow----”
“To-morrow! and suppose the house should be sold to-day? Ah! I should
never get over it; nor Edouard either; he says nothing, but he too is
crazy to start.”
“Very well, my children, since it will give you so much pleasure; but it
is four leagues from here!”
“We have a good country cabriolet, and the horse has been resting for a
fortnight; he will take us there very fast.”
“Where shall we dine?”
“At Villeneuve-Saint-Georges; there are some very good restaurants
there, aren’t there, my dear?”
“Why, yes. Oh! we shall have no difficulty about getting dinner there.”
“And it will be dark when we come back.--You know, Adeline, that I don’t
like to drive after dark.”
“Oh! Edouard will drive, mamma; you know what a prudent driver he is.
Besides, the road is magnificent; isn’t it, my dear?”
“Why, yes; at all events, it was ten years ago.”
“You see, mamma, that there is no danger. Oh! say that you will go!”
“I must do whatever you want!”
“How good you are! I will run and put on my hat.”
Adeline ran to her dressing-room, Edouard told old Raymond, their
servant, to put the horse in the cabriolet. Madame Germeuil prepared for
the drive, and Marie, the maid-servant of the new household, was grieved
to learn that they would not taste the dainty dinner which she had
prepared for the day after the wedding.
The young wife was ready first; a woman takes little time over her
toilet when she is certain to please; doubtless that is why old
coquettes pass two hours in front of the mirror. Adeline wore a simple
muslin dress, with a belt about the shapeliest waist imaginable; a straw
hat, not overladen with feathers and flowers, and a light shawl thrown
carelessly over her shoulders; in that unpretentious costume Adeline was
charming; everything about her was attractive; every feature was
instinct with love and happiness; and pleasure makes a pretty woman even
prettier.
Edouard gazed at his wife in rapture, and Madame Germeuil looked upon
her daughter with pride; Adeline kissed them both and took her mother’s
hand to make her go downstairs at once; the young woman was eager to be
gone, and to see the country house where her Edouard was brought up. He
was no less desirous to revisit the scenes which had witnessed his
childish sports. At last the mother was seated on the back seat of the
carriage, with Adeline by her side; Edouard took the reins, and they
started for Villeneuve-Saint-Georges.
V
THE FACE WITH MOUSTACHES
Edouard drove the horse at a fast pace, and they reached the village in
a short time. When they had passed through the main street, and turned
in the direction of the country, they discovered the house which they
were anxious to see; thereupon Adeline leaped for joy, and took off her
hat so that she could see better; Edouard urged the horse more eagerly,
and Madame Germeuil shrieked, saying that they would be overturned.
At last the cabriolet stopped in front of the gate which gave admission
to the courtyard.
“This is the place, this is the very place,” said Edouard, leaping to
the ground; “oh! there is no mistake. I recognize the gate, the
courtyard, and even this bell. It’s the same one that was here in my
time. And there is the sign saying that the house is for sale.”
While he was examining with emotion the outside of the house, Adeline
assisted her mother from the carriage; they fastened the horse, and then
entered the courtyard, for the gate was not locked.
“Oh! how I shall enjoy myself here!” said Adeline, glancing about with a
satisfied expression; “isn’t this house fascinating, mamma?”
“But, one moment, my child; we have seen nothing as yet.”
A tall peasant came out of a room on the ground floor, followed by an
enormous dog.
“What do you want?” he said, scrutinizing them surlily enough.
“We want to see this house,” Edouard replied.
“All right,” muttered the concierge between his teeth; “come with me,
and I will take you to my master.”
Edouard, with his wife and Madame Germeuil, followed their conductor,
who ascended a staircase and showed them into a dining-room on the first
floor, where he left them, to go to summon his master.
Soon a shrill little voice arose in the room which the concierge had
entered, and our travellers heard this colloquy:
“What do you want of me, Pierre?”
“Some one has come to buy the house, monsieur.”
“Have you come again to disturb me to no purpose, and to bring me some
boorish fellow, as you did just now?”
“Oh! no, monsieur! these folks look like swells!”
“That devilish fellow put me into a terrible temper! I shall be sick, I
am sure!”
“I tell you, monsieur, that these folks have a cabriolet.”
“Oh! that’s different! I’ll go and speak to them.”
Madame Germeuil and her children were wondering what they should think
of what they had heard, when the door of the adjoining room opened, and
a short, thin, yellow, wrinkled man, in dressing gown and nightcap
appeared and saluted his visitors with an air which he tried in vain to
make amiable.
“We wish to examine this house,” said Edouard; “not that I do not know
it very well; but these ladies would be very glad to see it.”
“It is very strange,” said the little man, glancing at the concierge;
“everybody knows my house!--And is it your purpose to buy it?”
“Why, to be sure, if the price suits us.”
“In that case, I will show you around myself.”
“What an original creature!” whispered Adeline to her husband; “I will
bet that it is some old money-lender, who went into retirement here, and
can’t resist the desire to do business in the capital again.”
They went over the house from the ground floor to the attic; the little
man spared them nothing, and Edouard, who was very glad to see his
former home once more, listened patiently to all the details which the
old fellow gave them concerning the advantages of his abode.
From time to time, our young man glanced at his wife and smiled.
“Yes,” he said as he entered each room, “I recognize this room, this
closet, these wardrobes.”
Thereupon the old gentleman would glance at his servant and smile in his
turn: they seemed to understand each other.
“So you used to live here, did you, monsieur?” the master of the house
asked him.
“Yes, monsieur, yes, I passed a large part of my youth here.”
“This is mighty queer!” muttered the concierge.
“This is surprising!” said the little proprietor to himself.
Madame Germeuil considered the house convenient and the air good.
Adeline was enchanted. Edouard asked permission to inspect the garden;
the little man apologized for not accompanying them, for he was tired
already; he asked them to follow the concierge, and the young people
were not at all sorry to be rid of him for a moment.
The peasant walked ahead; Madame Germeuil followed him, and Adeline and
Edouard brought up the rear, hand in hand. Edouard called his wife’s
attention to all the spots which reminded him of some period of his
life.
“This is the place,” said Edouard, “where I used to read with my father;
it was on this path that my Brother Jacques used to like to run about
and climb these fine apricot trees.”
“Poor Brother Jacques! you have never heard from him?”
“No! Oh! he died in some foreign country! Otherwise he would have
returned, he would have tried to see our parents again.”
“That,” said Madame Germeuil, “is what comes of not watching over
children! Perhaps he came to a bad end.”
Edouard made no reply; the memory of his brother always made him sad and
thoughtful; he was almost persuaded that poor Brother Jacques was no
more, and perhaps his self-esteem preferred to nourish that idea, in
order to banish those which suggested that Jacques might be wandering
about, wretched and debased. It was especially since his marriage with
Adeline that Edouard had often thought with dread of meeting his brother
amid the multitude of unfortunate wretches; he thought that that might
injure him in the estimation of Madame Germeuil; and whenever a beggar
of about his brother’s age stopped in front of Edouard, he felt the
blood rise to his cheeks and he walked rapidly away, without glancing at
the poor devil who begged of him, for fear of recognizing his Brother
Jacques in him. And yet Edouard was not heartless; he would have shrunk
from turning his back upon his brother, and he dreaded to find him in a
degraded condition. That is how men are constituted; their infernal
self-esteem often stifles the most generous sentiments; a man blushes
for his brother, or his sister! Indeed, there are some who blush for
their father or mother; such people apparently think that they are not
sufficiently estimable in themselves to do without a genealogical tree.
But let us return to our young bride and groom, who investigated every
nook and corner of the garden, and smiled and squeezed each other’s
hands as they passed a dark grotto, or a dense clump of shrubbery. The
concierge stopped for a moment to buckle his dog’s collar; Madame
Germeuil and her children walked on. They reached the end of the garden,
on that side which adjoined the open country and was surrounded by a
very high wall; but an opening had been made for the convenience of the
tenants, and the gate which closed that opening was covered with boards,
so that people who were passing could not look into the garden.
But these boards were half rotten and had fallen away in places; and
when the visitors passed the gate, they saw a man’s face against the
iron bars, gazing earnestly into the garden, through a place where the
boards were broken.
Madame Germeuil could not restrain a cry of surprise; Adeline was
conscious of a secret thrill of emotion, and Edouard himself was moved
at the sight of that face which he did not expect to find there.
The features of the man who was gazing into the garden were in fact
calculated to cause a sort of terror at a first glance; black eyes, an
olive-brown complexion, heavy moustaches, and a scar which started from
the left eyebrow and extended across the forehead, all these imparted to
the face a savage aspect which did not prepossess one in favor of the
man who bore it.
“Ah! mon Dieu! what on earth is that?” said Madame Germeuil, suddenly
stopping.
“Why, it is a man who is amusing himself looking through this gate,”
replied Edouard, gazing at the stranger, who did not move but continued
to examine the garden.
“I am almost afraid,” said Adeline under her breath.
“Almost, my dear child! you are very lucky! For my own part, I admit
that I do not feel comfortable yet.”
As Madame Germeuil spoke, she walked away from the gate and moved closer
to her son-in-law.
“What children you are, mesdames! What is there surprising in the fact
that a man as he passes a garden which looks like a fine one should
amuse himself by examining it for a moment? We have done that twenty
times!”
“Yes, no doubt. But we haven’t faces with moustaches like that, well
calculated to make any one shudder! Just look! he doesn’t move in the
least! He doesn’t seem to pay the slightest attention to us.”
At that moment the concierge joined the party. As he approached the gate
opening into the fields, he saw the face which had frightened the
ladies. Thereupon he made a very pronounced grimace, and muttered:
“Still here! so that infernal man won’t go away, it seems!”
The stranger looked up at the concierge, and the ladies read in the
glance that he cast at the peasant an expression of wrath and contempt.
Then, after examining for a moment the other persons in the garden, he
drew back his head from the bars and disappeared.
“I would like right well to know who that man is,” said Adeline, looking
at her husband.
“Faith! I augur no good for him,” said Madame Germeuil, who breathed
more freely since the face had withdrawn from the gate.
“That man looked as if he had evil intentions, did he not, Edouard?”
“Oh! my dear mamma, I don’t go as far as you do! If we had seen the
whole man, perhaps his face would have seemed less strange than it did
above those old boards.”
“My husband is right, mamma; I think that the way in which we look at
things depends upon the situation in which they strike our eyes at
first. A man clothed in rags often arouses our suspicions; if he should
appear before us well-dressed, we should have no feeling of dread at his
aspect. Darkness, silence, moonlight, and the shadows thrown upon
objects, all these conditions change our way of seeing things and make
our imagination work very rapidly.”
“You may say whatever you please, my dear girl, but that face was not
the face of a man looking into a garden from mere curiosity.”
“That may be, but I should have liked to see this stranger’s figure.”
“Parbleu!” said the concierge, “you wouldn’t have seen anything very
fine, I assure you.”
“Do you know that man?” asked Adeline quickly.
“I don’t know him, but I have seen him once before this morning; he
looks to me like a scamp who is prowling round about the village to
commit some deviltry. But he better not come back here, or I will set my
dog on him!”
“And you don’t know what he wants in the village?”
“Faith! I don’t care. So long as he don’t come to the house, that’s all
I ask.”
As they were in front of the house at that moment, and as the proprietor
was waiting for them in his doorway, Adeline did not prolong her
conversation with the concierge.
“Well! what do you think of these gardens?” the old man asked Adeline.
“Oh! they are very pretty, monsieur; and they will suit us, will they
not, mamma?”
“Yes, yes, perhaps they will suit us.”
Since Mamma Germeuil had seen at the end of the garden that face which
seemed to her of ill augury, she did not find so many attractions about
the house, and seemed less delighted with its situation. But as her
children were so intensely eager to purchase it, and as she realized how
childish her own repugnance was, she did not oppose the conclusion of
the bargain.
The little man tried at first to impose upon the strangers; but when
they proposed to pay cash, he consented to take off something from the
price, and the bargain was concluded. In his delight, the proprietor
invited the ladies to come in and rest, and even went so far as to
offer them a glass of wine and water. But they had no desire to become
better acquainted with the old miser; moreover, the ladies were hungry,
and they had only time to go to the notary’s office before dinner.