king. Edouard, incensed by such uninterrupted good fortune, turned
suddenly to complain to Desfleurets; he discovered him, with other
cards, showing to his adversary, behind his back, what he had in his
hand. The chevalier tried to conceal his cards, but Edouard did not give
him time; he snatched them from his hands, realized the rascality of
which he had been the victim, overturned the table and informed the
marquis that he should not pay him. The marquis, accustomed to such
scenes, did not lose his head, but demanded his money. Edouard called
him a swindler; his adversary seized a chair and threatened him, while
the chevalier picked up a number of louis which had fallen to the floor.
The old woman shrieked, and Murville seized a candle-stick which he
threw at his creditor’s head. The marquis received the candle in the
face, and lost an eye and part of his nose; he uttered fearful shrieks,
and everybody sprang to his feet; the women fled, some men did the same,
and the swindlers, being in force, surrounded Murville and threatened to
beat him. At that moment Dufresne entered the room, and realized
Edouard’s danger at a glance; quick to make the most of circumstances,
he forced his way to his side, pushing everybody out of his way; he
shouted louder than all the rest, and, making a sign to Edouard to leave
the salon, said that he would undertake to settle the affair, and
promised the marquis that he should receive the value of his face, which
was not likely to be a large sum. Dufresne had a tone and manner which
imposed upon those gentry; they became calmer, and Murville, feeling
that he was in a hopeless minority, went out of the salon, leaving
Dufresne to represent him.
In order to console himself in some degree for this misadventure,
Edouard looked about for Madame de Géran; she was not in the salon; he
passed through the reception rooms without finding her; she had
evidently gone to her bedroom, which was above. He rushed hurriedly up
the stairs; they were not lighted; but he knew the way. He opened the
dressing-room door and saw a light shining beneath the door leading into
the boudoir; the key was in the lock, he entered abruptly; but imagine
his sensations when he saw his dear mistress lying on a couch in company
with her groom, in a situation which clearly denoted the sort of
refreshment that had been provided.
Edouard stood like a statue for several minutes, unable to believe his
eyes; the groom, a tall youth of eighteen, strong, lusty and well-built,
but as stupid as an ass, whose physical advantages he possessed, had
been selected by Madame de Géran for her private delectation, and he
performed his duties with zeal and promptitude. He was always ready
whenever his mistress sent for him and gave him the preconcerted signal;
and she had had no occasion to do aught but praise his excellent conduct
and his services, which were frequently in demand. But we must say also
that Charlot had been only two months in Madame de Géran’s service,
where the food was excellent, but where the grooms were very quickly
worn out.
The punch had produced its effect on the nerves of the petite-maîtresse;
she had felt the need of being refreshed; and after making sure that
Murville was engaged in a serious game, which she thought unlikely to
come to an end so soon, she had passed through the anteroom, where
Charlot was, with her little finger at her ear; the groom, knowing what
that meant, had followed close at his mistress’s heels, and we have seen
what happened.
The boudoir was a long way from the salon; they had heard only a part of
the tumult, to which indeed they were well accustomed. Charlot had
paused a moment to listen, however; but his mistress, whose attention
was not distracted, and who was intent upon her own affairs, had said
lovingly:
“Go on, imbecile! What do you care for that? Let them fight.”
Edouard’s abrupt entrance did not disturb the groom; presuming that it
was one of the gamblers who had been disputing below, and remembering
what his mistress had said to him a moment before, Charlot continued his
work without turning his head. As for Madame de Géran, seeing that it
was no longer possible to deceive Edouard, she made the best of it, at
the same time ignoring the interruption.
But Murville’s wrath, held in check a few seconds by his extreme
surprise, soon burst forth with fury; he seized a fire-shovel and dealt
Charlot several blows. The groom yelled that he was being murdered;
Madame de Géran shrieked and Edouard shouted as loud as they did, and,
weary of striking Charlot, threw the shovel at madame’s mirror.
The mirror was shattered and fell to the floor in splinters. Edouard
swore and stormed, completely beside himself. Charlot wept, pressing his
battered body; Madame de Géran called for help, because she was afraid
for her other furniture and even for herself; in her terror she suddenly
pushed the groom away and he rolled over against a washstand which he
overturned; whereupon sponges, phials, essences and the bowl and pitcher
fell on the floor; and at the uproar, the shrieks, the tears and the
crashing of glass, a large proportion of the guests hurried to the scene
and entered the boudoir.
They all expressed much surprise at sight of Madame de Géran in such
great excitement, of the groom, in such unusual appearance, sprawling on
the floor amid the débris of the mirror, the bowl and the phials, and of
Edouard, who stalked amid the ruins with flashing eyes, as Achilles
stalked about the ramparts of Troy, and seemed inclined to deluge
everything with blood and fire.
They inquired what had happened, pushing, jostling, and asking
questions, and by dint of trying to restore tranquillity, increased the
confusion. The Marquis de Monclair held his handkerchief to his face, to
preserve the remains of his nose; he swore that Murville was a madman
who ought to be shut up. Desfleurets followed him, still holding in his
hand a pack of cards with which he was preparing some private _coup_. He
put in his pockets the phials and sponges that he found within reach,
taking advantage of the confusion to restock his toilet table. A number
of old coquettes gathered about Charlot, whose youth and other
attractions interested them greatly. They examined the injuries and
prescribed remedies. The young men assisted Madame de Géran to restore
her composure; those who had retained the most self-possession tried to
pacify Murville and insisted that explanations should precede fighting.
The mistress of the house vouchsafed no other explanation than to demand
the value of her mirror and toilet articles. Edouard called her a hussy
and held everybody at arm’s length. Dufresne, who was always on hand in
emergencies, pulled Edouard by the coat-tail and forced him to quit the
boudoir, sorely against his will, leaving the others to laugh or cry as
their private interests might dictate.
“You are a child!” said Dufresne when they were in the street; “why did
you make such a row?”
“Why? why? Don’t you know that I have been betrayed, shamefully
deceived, by that woman, who as I thought adored me? And for whom? for a
servant!”
“Bless my soul! is that a reason for turning a house upside down? You
must learn to take things philosophically. A man doesn’t smash furniture
for such a trifle. You will find a thousand other women who will adore
you--for your money.”
“After all the sacrifices I have made for her!”
“Oh! it’s unpleasant, I agree! But, my dear fellow, the money one gives
to a woman is always thrown away!--Look you, the most unfortunate
feature in all this is your trouble with Monclair. I was obliged to
give him a large part of the proceeds of your notes, to induce him not
to show his face to a justice of the peace; that would have led to
investigations, to law suits and expenses, which one should always
avoid.--Peste! do you know that you are a terrible fellow?--Cutting one
man’s nose off and hammering another man’s rump! If I should leave you
to yourself, you’d get into a fine mess! Luckily, I am always on hand to
cool you down. But this evening has cost you a great deal.”
“And so that money that I have been counting on----”
“Oh! never fear, you shall have it; you must make more notes; and
besides, the luck will change; no one is unlucky all the time; there are
ways of arranging with fortune.”
“There are?”
“Yes, yes; you shall know them later. But it is beginning to be light,
and it’s time to go to bed. Come home with me; to-morrow we will think
about our affairs.”
Dufresne led Edouard away; and he, bewildered, crushed, desperate on
account of his late experiences, was already afraid to cast a glance
behind, or to face what the future had in store for him.
XXIII
VIEW OF THE INTERIOR OF A GAMBLING HOUSE
“Look here, we must see about settling your affairs now,” said Dufresne,
as he rose after the stormy night at Madame de Géran’s. “You must make
more notes for about fifteen thousand francs, and I will try to discount
them. I confess, however, that it is more difficult than I thought.
People are none too anxious to have our signatures. They are becoming
more exacting. Only a few Jews will take them, and they demand fifty per
cent. What do you say to that?”
“That traitress, to betray me for a lackey!”
“What! you are still thinking of your faithless one! What folly!”
“If I could revenge myself!”
“The best revenge is to spend money freely, to live magnificently; then
she will regret you. So you see that you still need money. I am going
out to obtain some. Meanwhile, do not allow yourself to give way to
melancholy, and throw off this languor, which will lead to nothing good.
Go and take a turn at the card tables. That is where you will recover
your nerve and your ideas.”
“I haven’t a sou; what sort of figure should I cut there?”
“You must think up some method of winning. Au revoir; I am going to get
some money.”
Dufresne went out and Murville went home. He found a letter from his
wife there; it was the sixth she had written him since she had gone to
the country, but Edouard had never replied. He had read the first ones;
they contained Adeline’s wishes for his welfare, entreaties that he
would take care of his health, but not a word of love; Adeline no longer
dared to mention hers. To speak of one’s affection to a faithless lover
is like speaking of colors to a blind man, of music to a deaf man, of
manners to a savage.
Edouard had ceased to read his wife’s letters, because he did not know
what to reply. His heart said nothing, and his conscience said too much.
He hardened the one, and did not listen to the other. The season was
advanced; he was afraid that Adeline would talk of returning, and he
felt that her presence would embarrass him more than ever. He desired to
conceal from her the condition of his affairs, which confirmed only too
fully the fears that his wife and his mother-in-law had manifested.
On entering his apartments, the business agent was greatly surprised to
find bailiffs proceeding to levy upon his furniture.
“What does this mean,” cried Edouard; “who has sent you to my house?”
“Monsieur,” replied a little man in black, “the owner of the house, of
which you don’t pay the rent.”
“You ought to have warned me.”
“Summonses have been sent to you.”
“I did not read them.”
“That isn’t my fault.”
“I don’t know the forms of procedure.”
“What! monsieur is joking--a business agent!”
“I am not one now.”
“That doesn’t concern us.”
Edouard left the officers of the law and went up to his office; the
clerk was not there. He examined his papers, but he had no knowledge
whatever of his business. He tossed the boxes angrily into the middle of
the room. He went downstairs and called his servants; they had gone. The
concierge alone remained, and he answered Edouard insolently, because he
saw that he was ruined.
Murville left his home and walked slowly toward the Palais-Royal, having
no idea what course to pursue, or how to rid himself of the bailiffs. He
waited for Dufresne, in order to consult him; he arrived at last; he
seemed content, and announced that he had obtained some money. Edouard
revived at that news, and told Dufresne what was taking place at his
house.
“Faith,” said Dufresne, “if you take my advice, you will let them go
ahead and sell a lot of furniture which is of no use to you now; you
don’t need such an establishment, as you are living the life of a
bachelor; it is sleeping property, and we turn it to some use.”
“But if my wife should return----”
“Bah! she prefers the country; and besides, don’t you know that in
Paris, with plenty of money, one can find in an hour’s time, a house and
furniture and servants?”
“That is true; but you advised me to live luxuriously.”
“We will hire some magnificently furnished lodgings.”
“But my reputation----”
“Never fear, it is making progress. Make your fortune and let the fools
talk--that is the essential thing.”
“Yes, but I am very far from making my fortune!”
“Because you go about it in the wrong way.”
“I do whatever you tell me.”
“Oh, no! you still have a false delicacy, which does you harm, and which
you must get rid of. But come to a restaurant; let us drink some
champagne and madeira, and snap our fingers at whatever may happen.”
Edouard allowed himself to be led away; he abandoned himself like a
blind man to Dufresne’s advice; he followed the torrent which drew him
on; and those people who had seen him at the time of his marriage had
difficulty in recognizing him, so great a change had been wrought in him
by debauchery and gambling.
What an existence is that of a gambler! Never a moment’s repose or
tranquillity! It seems that a permanent fever acts constantly on his
organs; his eyes are hollow and rimmed with red; his complexion pale and
seamed by lack of sleep; his cheeks sunken, all his features drawn; his
dress soiled and in disorder; his gait jerky or uncertain; feverish
anxiety can be read in his eyes; if he smiles, it is with bitterness; it
seems that cheerfulness is a stranger to his mind, which is incessantly
excited by the thirst for gold, by the eagerness for gain, by the
anxiety of the gaming table.
Such had Edouard become; who could recognize now the young man who,
engrossed by his good fortune and his love, proudly led his charming
bride to the altar? Now his features are worn, the expression of his
face is changed, his very voice is not recognizable, for amid the
passions and agonies of suspense which he endures every day, his
transports of despair and rage, his oaths and imprecations have made his
accents threatening or hoarse; his conversation bears the imprint of the
society which he frequents; not in gambling hells, with swindlers or
abandoned women, does one acquire the tone of refined society; one loses
in such company all courtesy, all modesty, all restraint. Edouard had
acquired the habit of shouting, swearing, flying into a rage on all
occasions; his manners, his bearing, his principles, were like those of
the models which he had constantly under his eyes. A virtuous, upright,
reasonable man has much difficulty in resisting the influence of an evil
companion; what then is likely to become of a weak man, enslaved by his
passions, who is surrounded by none but the offscourings of society?
The winter arrived; Edouard received no more letters from his wife. He
did not know that Dufresne received them for him and returned them to
Adeline as from her husband. The first notes had been paid with the
money arising from the sale of the furniture; but the second ones were
about to mature, and the two inseparables had no more money. In vain did
Murville, who no longer blushed to put out his hand to borrow in every
direction, go at night, with the small sums he had succeeded in
obtaining, to take his seat at the fatal green cloth; in vain did he too
try to calculate, and to make combinations by pricking cards, or forming
martingales; nothing succeeded. He saw the money that he had deposited
with trembling hand upon a number, pass to the banker’s pile; the fatal
rake swept from him the sum which he had hoped to quadruple; he had
nothing left, he turned his eyes in all directions, seeking some
acquaintance from whom he could borrow again, but he saw no one; a
gambler has no friends. Edouard left number 9, and hurried through the
galleries of the Palais-Royal, entering each academy in search of
Dufresne or some other; he found no one who was willing to lend him. He
arrived at number 113, which he had never entered as yet. He saw the
poor mechanic who goes thither, trembling with anticipation, to risk the
fruit of his day’s labor; he leaves the place with empty pockets, and
returns to his home, where his wife with her children is waiting for the
return of her husband, to go out to buy something for her little
family’s supper; but he brings nothing, the poor children will go to bed
without food, and the unhappy wife will wet her pillow with her tears,
because her husband has been to the gambling house.
And this tradesman, whom people believe to be engrossed by his
business,--what does he do in this den of iniquity? he squanders his
fortune, his reputation, his honor, the property of his correspondents;
he has to pay on the morrow notes which he has signed, and he resorts to
the roulette table in search of the funds. His gaze is fixed on the
color which he hopes to see come forth, and every time that luck betrays
his hopes, his hand, concealed in his coat, tears his clothing and rends
his breast. But he feels nothing, his sensations are concentrated on the
little ball which is to decide his fate.
This young man, of respectable exterior and decently dressed, who acts
as if he wished to hide, because he is still sensitive to shame, comes
hither to venture, at the game of chance, a sum which the banker by whom
he is employed has intrusted to him to be taken to a notary. Luck
betrays him, he has lost all! And yet he remains there; he cannot as yet
credit his crime, his misfortune! What will he do upon leaving that vile
den, where he has left honor behind? His family is poor, but honorable;
he cannot make up his mind to bring dishonor upon it, to endure his
father’s reproaches; despair takes possession of his soul, and he sees
but one means to avoid the future which terrifies him. He goes forth, he
walks hurriedly in the direction of the river, he arrives there, and
puts an end to his existence by leaping into the waves! And a man who
might have followed a happy and honorable career, a man who should have
assured the happiness of his family, commits suicide at twenty years of
age because he has been to the gambling house.
Such pictures are only too true; we have examples of them every day;
when will these abodes of crime cease to be tolerated?
Edouard should have profited by the lessons which he had before his
eyes; instead of that, he took his seat at the game of _biribi_; he
still had ten sous in his pocket; and he hastened to risk them on the
table where the last farthing is extorted from the poor wretches who
resort to it.
He had been at the table but a moment, seated among people who resembled
beggars, when Dufresne appeared and motioned to him to follow him.
“I have good news for you,” he said with a joyful air; “in the first
place, your mother-in-law died last night of an attack of apoplexy.”
“Is it possible?”
“It was a young fellow employed here, who lives in her house, who just
told me. Moreover, I have obtained the money on your notes, on condition
that you give a mortgage on your house at Villeneuve-Saint-Georges.”
“My house--but----”
“Come, come; don’t raise objections! In any event, with what little
money you get from your mother-in-law, you will be able to pay your
notes and redeem your house. You see that everything is turning out for
the best. Oh! if only I had thought of your country house before! But
now you are in funds, that is the essential thing; all that you will
need, to obtain what Madame Germeuil has left, is a power of attorney
from your wife.”
“How am I to get it? I shall never dare to tell her of her mother’s
death; she will be desperate!”
“Very well; I will undertake to do it. If you wish, I will go to
Villeneuve-Saint-Georges in your place, and I will tell your wife the
news with all possible precaution.”
“You will do me a great favor. Tell her also that I have not forgotten
her, that I expect to go to see her very soon.”
“Yes, I know all that I must say to her; rely upon my zeal and my
friendship.”
This arrangement being concluded, Dufresne urged Edouard to make haste
to provide him with the necessary papers, that he might go to Adeline,
whom he was burning to see again. As for Edouard, having pledged his
country house, the last shelter of his family, and having obtained the
proceeds of his notes, he abandoned himself anew to the frantic passion
which dominated him.
XXIV
KIND HEARTS.--GRATITUDE
Adeline was still at the pretty country house. She had arrived there
very unhappy and melancholy; but in due time the peaceful country, and
the first caresses of her daughter, brought a little repose to her soul;
she became resigned to her fate. In the early days after her arrival,
she still hoped that Edouard would join her, that he would weary of the
false pleasures to which he had abandoned himself, and would open his
eyes concerning the people who surrounded him; but she speedily lost
this last hope. She wrote to her husband, but he did not reply; she
received news from Paris through her mother, and that news was most
distressing; she learned in what excesses the man whom she still loved
was indulging; she shuddered as she thought of Edouard’s weakness and
Dufresne’s vengeance. She wrote again, but her letters were returned to
her unopened. This last mark of indifference and contempt cut Adeline to
the quick; she waited in silence, and without a complaint, for the man
whose joy she had once been, to remember the bonds which attached him to
her.
As she was walking in the country one day, with her little Ermance in
her arms, Adeline, absorbed by her thoughts, did not notice that she had
gone farther than usual; but at last fatigue compelled her to stop; she
looked about her: not recognizing her surroundings, and fearing that she
would lose her way if she should attempt to return, she bent her steps
toward a farm house, which she saw at some distance, in order to ask her
way, and to obtain a guide if that were necessary.
She soon arrived at Guillot’s, for it was his farm which she had seen.
Louise was in front of her door, driving the ducks and fowls into their
coops; Sans-Souci was in the yard, piling bundles of hay. The children
were wallowing in the mud according to their custom, with the geese and
the chickens.
This picture brought a smile to Adeline’s lips. She regretted that she
had not been born in a village, where the days are all alike, monotonous
perhaps, but at all events free from trouble and bitterness.
The farmer’s wife cordially invited the young lady to enter the house.
She took little Ermance in her arms and dandled her, while answering the
questions of Adeline, who learned that she was more than two leagues
from her home, and who, touched by the frank and hearty welcome of the
villagers, consented to rest for a few moments, and to share the repast
prepared for the men about to return from their work.
The clock struck six; that was the time when the people at the farm
assembled to partake gayly of their simple but substantial meal,
seasoned always by appetite.
Guillot appeared, bringing wood according to his custom. Sans-Souci
entered the living room humming a ballad, and Jacques deposited in a
corner the instruments of toil. The farmer examined the young lady with
the stupid expression which was habitual with him; Jacques bowed and
took his seat without paying much attention to Adeline, while she, as
she glanced at the newcomers, tried to remember an incident long ago
dispelled from her memory.
They took their places at the table; Jacques was seated beside Adeline,
who was surprised by his courtesy, by his frank manners, and by his
gentleness with the children. From time to time she cast a glance at
that stern face, adorned with heavy moustaches, and bearing the scars of
several wounds. Jacques did not notice the young lady’s scrutiny; it was
impossible for him to recognize her whom he had seen but once, through
the gate of a garden, and to whom he had paid little heed. But as she
gazed at Jacques’s face and especially at his enormous moustaches,
Adeline remembered the place where she had seen him, and she could not
restrain an exclamation of surprise.
“What! can it be you, monsieur? Ah! I knew that I had seen you before.”
“Does madame refer to me?” said Jacques in amazement.
“Yes, monsieur, it is surely you; I am certain now.”
“Do you know my comrade, madame?” said Sans-Souci; “if you do, you know
a fine, honest fellow.”
“I don’t doubt it, and yet monsieur frightened me terribly.”
“Frightened you, madame; I am very sorry; but how could I have done it?”