tears; but Murville no longer paid any heed to such trifles; he had
matters of great importance in his head. Dufresne was to put him in the
way of earning fifty thousand francs with a wealthy shipowner who had
just arrived in Paris and was seeking investments for his money, with
which he did not know what to do. In order to become acquainted with
that invaluable man, it was necessary to give an evening party, a ball,
to which he would be brought by a third person. The ball was decided
upon; and in accordance with his friend’s advice, Edouard made the most
elaborate preparations for a function which was to give him an
established position in society. To be sure, the expenses of that
function would be enormous. The twelve thousand francs earned some time
before were largely spent; he had had to encroach upon his income to buy
the furniture and to decorate his house; but all that was nothing at
all; in order to reap, one must sow,--that was Dufresne’s maxim. And his
example proved that it worked well with him; never had he seemed more
fortunate, more magnificent, more at his ease. He had a cabriolet, a
groom, and such diamonds! Therefore he must be doing an excellent
business.
XVII
A GRAND PARTY.--A DECLARATION OF LOVE
“My dear love,” said Edouard to his wife, one morning, “I am going to
give a party to-morrow--a ball; you must prepare to do the honors.”
“You are going to give a party--to whom, pray? Can it be that you are
reconciled with mamma?”
“Who is talking about your mother? She is a woman who insists upon
meddling in affairs which she does not understand, and who, because her
tastes lead her to live in a narrow circle, wishes also to prevent us
from going out of it. You must agree that that is utterly absurd.
However, when I have fifty thousand francs a year, I fancy that she will
forgive me for not listening to her advice.”
“That will not be very soon, I take it!”
“Sooner than you think, madame, and I act accordingly.”
“And is that the reason that you are giving a party?”
“Exactly.”
“Whom do you expect to have?”
“Oh! never fear, we shall have lots of people. In the first place, we
must, for it is the fashion now; if one is not crowded and pushed about
in a salon, he does not think that he has enjoyed himself.”
“Oh! what nonsense, my dear! Who told you that?”
“It is not nonsense, madame. I go into society while you are taking care
of your daughter.”
“Oh! I am well aware that you no longer stay with me.”
“That is necessary; I must show myself in society; that is the place
where a man makes acquaintances.”
“Disastrous ones, sometimes!”
“Oh! mon Dieu! I am not a child; I know with whom I am dealing! Why, to
hear you and your mother talk, anyone would think that I am not capable
of taking care of myself.
“I never said that, my dear; but I cannot help regretting the time when
I alone was sufficient for your enjoyment; then you passed all your time
with me,--you did not go into society.--Well! were you not happy?”
“To be sure I was.”
“Then why have you changed your mode of life?”
“Why? why? That is a strange question to ask me! a man cannot always be
making love to his wife, can he?”
“Oh! I have discovered that! But I did not expect to learn it after only
a year of married life.”
“Well, well! are you going to begin your reproaches again? Women are
never reasonable.”
“I am not reproaching you, my dear; give parties, as that gives you
pleasure; I shall never object.”
“You are a love; you are not obstinate like your mother; and I tell you
again that this is all for our good. So make the necessary preparations.
I have already ordered and arranged everything, and all that you will
have to do will be to see that my orders are carried out.”
“Very well. But what shall I say to people whom I do not know?”
“Oh! don’t let that trouble you! You just bow and smile to every one.
With your grace and your wit you will always be fascinating.”
“I would like to be fascinating to you alone.”
“Do you mean that I am unfaithful to you? I am really so good----”
“That some day you will be laughed at for it.”
“Never fear, I love you only.--I am going to send a few more
invitations; prepare for our party.”
Edouard kissed his wife and left her. Adeline, in order to please him,
inquired about what was to be done on the following day; she was alarmed
at the magnitude of the expense, but it was too late to oppose it. After
giving her orders, the young wife went to see her mother. It was on
Madame Germeuil’s bosom that she poured out her grief, though she
concealed much of it, in order not to make her mother more bitter
against her husband.
“Oh!” said Adeline, “so long as he is faithful to me, I shall have
nothing to complain of. I can forgive him everything except
indifference, which I absolutely could not endure.”
The next day, at daybreak, everything was in confusion in the Murville
establishment. The servants could not attend to the innumerable
preparations which were under way on every side; workmen came to put
carpets and chandeliers in place and vases of flowers along the
stair-rails. The mirror-maker’s apprentices, upholsterers, florists and
decorators filled the salons, and got in the way of the footmen and
other servants. Soon the caterers arrived, the pastry cooks and the ice
dealer’s men, who took possession of the servants’ quarters and began
the decoration of the sideboards, which were to be furnished in the
evening in the most sumptuous way, and to offer everything which could
fascinate the eyes, the nose and the palate at once. Adeline attempted
to pass through several rooms to her husband’s office; she was
bewildered by the uproar, the shouts, the tumult; she could not
recognize her own apartments. At last she spied Edouard walking about
the salons, and watching with a self-satisfied air the preparations for
the party.
“Well, my dear love,” he said to his wife as soon as he caught sight of
her, “what do you think of all this?”
“That I do not understand how anyone can take so much trouble to
entertain people whom one does not know, and who feel no obligation for
the pains which one takes to treat them so handsomely.”
“But, my dear love, you must remember that a man does all this for his
reputation’s sake. Parbleu! I care nothing at all for the people whom I
entertain; I am not at all anxious for their friendship, but I am
anxious that people should say in society: ‘Monsieur Murville’s party
was delightful, nothing was lacking; and everything was in the very best
style. That function must have cost a tremendous sum!’--You will agree
that that will do me credit; people will assume that I have a
considerable fortune, and that I have more business than I desire.--Be
sure to dress handsomely, and wear your diamonds; they are not so fine
as I wish they were, but before long I hope to make you a present of a
superb string of them.”
“My dear, you know perfectly well that I do not want anything of that
kind; your love alone----”
“It is getting late; go and dress.”
The time fixed for the party arrived; between nine and ten o’clock, the
carriages and the pedestrians--for some people always come on foot, even
to the largest balls--the courtyard of Murville’s house in swarms. They
crowded under the porte cochère; the coachmen insulted one another and
disputed for precedence; the young women, wrapped in their pelisses or
cloaks, jumped lightly to the landing, and waited, one for her mother,
another for her husband, to take her up to the salons. The officious
young man mounted the stairs gracefully, his body enveloped in an ample
cloak lined with crimson velvet, which concealed almost the whole of his
face, leaving only the end of his nose visible; he offered his hand to a
young lady whose fear of the horses standing in the courtyard had
separated her from her escort. The young gallant in the cloak saw only a
pair of very expressive eyes and a few curls, for all the rest was
concealed under the hood of a pelisse; but he saw enough to divine
lovely features and the form of a nymph. He gently pressed the hand
which she entrusted to him; he engaged his fair unknown for the first
quadrille, and his hopes were aroused before he had even entered the
reception room. That room was crowded; in one corner the ladies
arranged their dresses, gave a last glance to their finery, which had
become rumpled in the carriage; farther on, in a less brilliantly
lighted spot, a number of economical bank clerks took slippers from
their pockets and put them on in place of their shoes, which they
carefully wrapped in large pieces of paper with their gaiters, and
placed them under some heavy piece of furniture which was not likely to
be moved. After effecting this slight change of costume, they carefully
pulled their ruffs from their waistcoats, retied their cravats, passed
their hands through their hair, rumpling it or smoothing it according as
their style of beauty required, and then, drawing themselves up proudly,
entered the salon with an air of impertinence and conceit which was
calculated to persuade all the other guests that they had come in a
tilbury.
The salon was already filled with women of all ages; for by the face
only, not by the dress, could the mother be distinguished from the
daughter, the aunt from the niece. The men strolled about, eyeglass in
hand, and despite that little accessory, almost put their noses into the
ladies’ faces, as they stopped in front of them, making wry faces when
one was not to their liking; while the ladies themselves smiled at them
instead of spitting in their faces as their insolent manner of staring
at them well deserved. Soon the crowd became so large that one could
hardly move. That was the delightful moment; a young exquisite halted in
front of a girl seated beside her mother, and made the most indecent
gestures, which the poor child avoided only by keeping her own eyes
constantly on the floor, which prevented her from enjoying the spectacle
of the ball; but the young man was persistent; he did not stir from in
front of her, and had the effrontery to interpret in his favor the blush
which covered the brow of her whom he deigned to notice. A few steps
away, another young exquisite pointed out to four or five of his friends
a pretty woman whose husband stood nearby; he told them in confidence
that she had been his mistress for a week; his friends congratulated
him, and asked him for details concerning the lady’s secret charms and
her way of making love; he replied, laughing heartily, and gesticulating
like one possessed, which could not fail to attract every eye, and to
arouse the curiosity of those who did not hear him. Luckily the husband
was of the latter number; but he desired to know what was being said, so
he approached and enquired:
“What are you laughing at so loudly, gentlemen?”
“Oh! it was nothing, a joke he was telling us.”
“Some rascality, I will wager; you are sad rakes!”
“You will find out later what it was.”
And the young men dispersed, laughing louder than ever; the husband
laughed with them; he did not know why, but he wanted to seem to be
informed.
The signal to begin the dance was given, and an excellent orchestra,
directed by Collinet, played several delightful quadrilles, which
invited one to dance; fascinating tunes, selected from the masterpieces
of the great masters, are now used as the theme and motif of a _poule_,
_a trénis_, or a _pantalon_. How can one resist the temptation, when one
has the opportunity to execute a pirouette, a _balancé_, or an
_entre-chat_ to passages from Rossini, Mozart, or Boieldieu? The ear is
no less charmed by the method of execution; modern quadrilles are little
concerts for wind and stringed instruments; it requires talent to play
them. We have left to the poor blind men such tunes as the Monaco, the
Périgourdine and the Furstemberg; we need artistes to play the
quadrilles of Weber, Collinet, Rubner, etc.
There was little room; the guests trod on one another’s feet, and
jostled one another; but they danced, and that was the essential thing;
what joy for the young woman who desires to display her charms, and for
the woman on the decline who flatters herself that she is still very
light on her feet!
Those who were not attracted by the dancing and the music took their
places at an écarté table; there they abandoned themselves to their
passion for gambling, awaiting a favorable stroke of luck; they tried to
fathom the play of their opponents, to read upon their faces what cards
they had in their hands. They forgot their wives or their daughters; and
very frequently those ladies in the salon forgot those who were at the
écarté table.
The bets opened and soon became very considerable; young men, who should
have paid no heed to aught except the ladies and the dance, waited
anxiously to see if their adversary would turn a king; their blood
boiled; the sight of gold, the hope of winning, led them on; and more
than one, who walked away from the tables with empty pockets, would
refuse the next day to give money to his tailor or his bootmaker; while
our economical friends of the shoes and the gaiters, who had allowed
themselves to be led astray by example, observed to one another as they
took off their slippers, that they would have done better to hire a cab
than to bet or play écarté.
Others had recourse to the sideboard for consolation and stuffed
themselves with pastry and refreshments; the greatest glutton took the
most delicate sweetmeats, on the pretext that he was taking them to the
ladies. What horrible waste there is in such mobs! Plates overturned,
one dish cast aside to take another, of which three-quarters is left;
the creams that the guests snatch from one another; the bonbons that
disappear before one has time to take one;--such is the ordinary course
of collations at large parties; the sideboard is always being pillaged,
and the young men who surround it act as if they had eaten nothing for a
week. What an extraordinary way for people in good society to behave!
Adeline tried to discover some acquaintance amid the crowd and the
tumult; but most of the faces were unknown to her. Weary of listening to
insipid or exaggerated compliments, addressed to her by men whom she did
not know, and disgusted at being stared at through the eyeglasses of
these men, the young woman seized a moment when everybody was busy
according to his or her taste, to go to her room, to make sure that her
daughter was asleep, and to enjoy, by embracing her, the only pleasure
that that evening could afford her.
To reach the room where her little Ermance was in bed, Adeline was
obliged to leave her guests altogether, for she had determined that her
child should not be awakened by the noise; she passed through several
half-lighted rooms and finally reached her daughter’s side; she paused
by the cradle and gazed at Ermance, who was sleeping peacefully. With
her mind more at ease, Adeline was going back to her guests; but, as she
entered a dimly-lighted boudoir which adjoined her daughter’s bedroom,
she saw some one gliding along the wall. A feeling of alarm took
possession of her.
“Who is there?” she said instantly.
“Don’t be afraid, madame; I am distressed to have taken you so by
surprise.”
Adeline recovered herself, for she recognized Dufresne’s voice, and
asked: “What are you seeking here?”
“The noise and heat of the salon made me feel uncomfortable; I was very
glad to be able to come away and rest for a moment.”
Adeline went into the next room for a lamp, and brought it into the room
where Dufresne had remained; he followed her every movement with his
eyes, and seemed intensely agitated.
“If you are not feeling well, I will go and bring you something.”
“Oh, no! stay, madame, I beg you; your presence is a hundred times more
beneficial to me.”
Dufresne had taken Adeline’s hand; she, amazed by the extraordinary tone
and by the fire with which he addressed her, did not know what reply to
make, but stood before him sorely embarrassed. Dufresne squeezed
violently the hand that he held in his. Adeline withdrew it at once in
dismay, and started to leave the room, but he stood in front of her and
stopped her.
“What do you want of me?” she said to him, her voice trembling with a
feeling of terror she could not explain.
“That you should listen to me, madame, that you should deign to listen
to me.”
“What have you to say to me, pray, that demands so much mystery? We
might talk quite as well in the salon.”
“No, madame, no,--here. Ah! for a long while I have been postponing this
moment; but I feel that it is impossible for me to conceal longer the
passion which consumes me; no, I am no longer able to see you, to
contemplate so many charms, without giving expression to the ardor which
devours me.”
“What are you saying to me, monsieur?”
“That I love you, that I adore you, lovely Adeline, and that you must be
mine!”
“Merciful heaven! What do I hear?”
“Learn all at last; know that from the first moment that I saw you, you
have been the object of all my thoughts, of all my desires, the goal of
all my acts; I became intimate with Madame Dolban only to obtain an
opportunity to be introduced at your house; that hope and the hope of
winning your favor some day alone prevented me from committing some
foolish extravagance between the day of your wedding and the day when I
was introduced to you. But how I suffered then, concealing from everyone
the flame which consumed me! and what torments have I not endured when I
have seen you lavishing upon my fortunate rival all those caresses which
he received with indifference, whereas a single one would have been the
height of felicity to me.”
“This is too much, monsieur; I have restrained my indignation, but I
shall no longer be able to do so, if I listen to you any more.”
“Your indignation! Wherein do I deserve it?”
“To call my husband your rival, and in return for his friendship to try
to win his wife--such conduct is shocking!”
“Such conduct is very common, and it only seems shocking to you because
you do not share my sentiments; for, if you loved me, instead of being a
monster, I should be an unhappy wretch consumed by an insurmountable
passion, suffering for a long while and concealing his agony from every
eye, even before her who is the cause of it. Such conduct then would not
seem criminal to you; so much love and constancy would arouse your pity
at least, and you would accord it to me, madame, you would listen to me
without anger, and perhaps a gentler sentiment would plead my cause in
your heart, and would help me to obtain the reward of all my attentions.
That, madame, is what you should consider. I adore you--that is my
crime; it will cease to be a crime if you share my passion; success
insures forgiveness for the most audacious enterprises, and I shall be
guilty only if you hate me.”
“Your speeches, monsieur, will never justify you in my eyes. I might
excuse your love, but not your hope of inducing me to share it. A person
is not master of his heart, I believe, but he is master of his conduct,
and yours is unworthy of a decent man----”
“Madame----”
“Never speak to me again of your love; only on that condition do I agree
to forget this conversation and to refrain from repeating it to my
husband.”
“Your husband! He wouldn’t believe you.”
“What do you say?”
“No, madame, he would never believe anything that you might say against
me. Do you suppose that I have not provided against everything? I have
obtained such control over your husband’s mind that he no longer sees
except through my eyes, no longer acts except by my will; in fact, he is
a machine, whose movements I govern at my pleasure. But tremble, if you
reject my suit, for the power which I shall exert over the weak-minded
Edouard! You will learn then to know me, and you will repent your unjust
pride; but it will be too late, for my hatred will be as active as my
love is violent.”
“Abominable man! I feel that the horror that you have inspired in me has
increased twofold, but I defy your threats, and I forbid you to come
into my presence again.”
Dufresne’s face expressed rage and irony at once; his nerves contracted,
a bitter smile played about his lips, while his eyes darted flashes of
fire. Adeline, in terror, tried to fly; he stopped her, threw his
muscular arms about her, pressed her violently to his breast, and placed
his burning lips upon his victim’s heaving breast; he was about to
proceed to the last excess, but the young woman uttered a piercing
shriek; people hurried to the spot, the sound of footsteps drew near.
Dufresne opened a window looking on the garden, jumped out and
disappeared.
Several servants and young men entered the room; they gathered about
Adeline and inquired the cause of her alarm. Her eyes wandered
distractedly about; the sight of the open window recalled all that had
passed, and she realized the necessity of concealing her emotion.
“What’s the matter, madame, what has happened to you?” was asked on all
sides.
“I don’t know,” she said, trying to calm her agitation, “I did not feel
very well, the heat made me uncomfortable. I came to this room to obtain
a breath of fresh air; but as I opened that window, a fit of
dizziness--I tried to call for help, and I had not the strength.”
The explanation seemed very plausible; they urged Madame Murville not to
return to the salon, where the intense heat might make her ill again.
Adeline had no idea of doing so; she would have been unable to endure
Dufresne’s presence. So she withdrew to her apartments, requesting
somebody to apologize for her to the rest of the company.
She asked her maid to tell Edouard that she wished to see him as soon as
he was at liberty. The servant delivered the message. But Murville paid
little heed to it. He had just lost forty louis at écarté to an
exceedingly pretty young woman, who bestowed very expressive glances
upon him, smiling at him and showing the loveliest teeth in the world;
and, accidentally, no doubt, allowed her little foot to rest upon his,
and her knee to remain between his legs. How could he help allowing
himself to be beaten by so attractive a player? She pouted so sweetly
when he refused to give her cards that it was impossible to resist her.
Edouard felt that he was subjugated; but imagine his sensations when she
asked him to wipe the perspiration from a very white back, which was
moist from dancing! He performed the service with trembling fingers; she
thanked him with a pressure of the hand, and invited him to come to see
her and to take his revenge for the game of écarté.
At five in the morning, they danced the regulation quadrille to close
the ball. They laughed and mixed the figures up and tired themselves
out; they made much noise and much dust; and then they took their leave,
one carrying away an old hat in place of the new one he had had when he
came, and which he could not find; another, minus the pretty cane which
he had taken pains to place in a dark corner; very fortunate when the
mackintosh or overcoat or cloak had not been changed.
Advice to young men who frequent large parties: Do not carry valuable
canes, and wear nothing better than an old hat to leave in the reception
room, unless you choose to keep it in your hand all the time, as many
people do nowadays to avoid the slight vexation which we have just
mentioned.
Edouard, with a full heart and an empty purse, went to his room,
engrossed by the pretty woman with whom he had played écarté, and
without a thought for his own wife, who had long been waiting for him in
vain.
XVIII
FOLLY.--BLINDNESS.--WEAKNESS
Adeline had risen during the night, being anxious concerning her
husband; but on learning that he had gone to his apartment very late,
she decided not to disturb his rest, and waited until he should be awake
to tell him what had taken place in the evening between herself and
Dufresne, whom she hoped to make known to him as he really was.
Edouard woke and went downstairs to breakfast. Adeline was waiting for
him; she reproached him gently for his indifference of the night before;
but he hardly listened to her; he was distraught, preoccupied, and
complained of a violent headache which he hoped to get rid of by going
out. Adeline detained him, informing him that she had something of great
importance to say. Amazed by his wife’s tone, Edouard instinctively
resumed his seat and requested her to hurry because business required
his attention. The servants were dismissed and Adeline repeated to her
husband her conversation with Dufresne on the previous evening.
Edouard listened at first with indifference; but soon displeasure and
impatience were depicted upon his face.
“Well, my dear,” said Adeline, after she had told him everything, “what
do you think now of your sincere friend?”
“I think--I think that you make a crime of a trifle, and a matter of
importance of something that amounts to nothing.”
“What! my dear----”