Julien expected Marcel, who had promised to attempt to effect the reconciliation which he had planned; but Marcel was detained by unexpected business and did not appear. Madame Thierry did not come down. Julien felt that he could not break the ice unassisted by his cousin; so he did not speak, but worked on, did his best, and thought of Julie.
Uncle Antoine slept with one eye open. He felt agitated, excited, constrained, in the house of the woman he hated, and in sight of the hôtel d'Estrelle, where his new inamorata lived. He rose, walked back and forth in his squeaking shoes, sat down again, and, forgetting his lily for a moment, tried to talk with Julien.
"Do you have much work?" he asked.
"A good deal."
"And people pay you well?"
"Well enough. I have no reason to complain."
"How much do you earn a day?"
"About thirty francs, taking one day with another," said Julien, with a smile.
"That's not very much; but your father at your age didn't earn so much as that, and you will increase your prices from year to year, I suppose?"
"I hope so and expect so."
"You lead a temperate and regular life, so I am told?"
"I am forced to do so, uncle."
"You don't go into society, I imagine?"
"I have no time for that."
"But you know some people of quality?"
"Those who were friends of my father have not forgotten me."
"Do you sometimes pay visits?"
"Rarely, and only when it is necessary."
"Do you know the Baronne d'Ancourt?"
"I know her name, nothing more."
"Isn't she a friend of Madame d'Estrelle?"
"I have no idea."
"But you know Madame d'Estrelle?"
"No, uncle."
"You have never seen her?"
"Never."
Julien told this lie with resolution. It seemed to him that everybody was trying to pry into his secret, and he had determined to conceal it more securely with a cloak of savage distrust.
"That's funny," continued Uncle Antoine, who may have conceived some suspicions of his own in order to remain true to his habit of suspecting everybody. "Your mother passes hours and days in her garden, even in her salon, they say, and you——"
"I am not my mother."
"You mean that you are not noble?"
"I mean that I am not old enough to call on a person who receives only older people."
"Perhaps you regret that you are too young, eh?"
"I am very glad that I am young, I assure you!" replied Julien, laughing at his uncle's peculiar reflections.
The uncle, foiled in his attack, began to pace the floor again with a jerky, nerve-wearing step; then he said to Julien:
"Will it take you much longer?"
"Two or three hours."
"May I look?"
"If you choose."
"Oho! that's not bad; that begins to look like something. But you're painting the whole background; where will you put the plant's name? I want it in big gold letters."
"Then I won't put it anywhere. It would spoil my effect."
"Ah! upon my word! But I will have my name!"
"You can have it put in large black letters on a raised plate at the top or bottom of the gilt frame."
"Good! that's a good idea! If you give me a masterpiece, I'll invite you to the ceremony of baptism."
"Pshaw! a ceremony?"
"Oh! yes, the gentlemen from the Royal Garden are coming to breakfast with me to-morrow. I have invited them. I expect they'll come, and, as it tires me to sit in one place with folded arms, I'll just go home and see if everything is going on all right, for I mean to have a sort of party. Take good care of my lily, don't let anyone disturb you, work without stopping. I will come back in an hour."
And as each touch of the brush, wielded by Julien with an enthusiastic and unerring hand, seemed to make the marvellous plant actually live on the canvas, the uncle was profoundly impressed, smiled, and softened so far as to pat the young man's shoulder, saying:
"Courage, my boy, courage! Satisfy me, and perhaps you won't be sorry."
He went out, but, instead of returning to his own house, he bent his steps mechanically in the direction of the hôtel d'Estrelle. A confused multitude of ideas, alluring, disturbing, audacious, caused a mad whirl in that poor brain, at once enfeebled and excited by isolation, wealth, ennui and vanity.
"I made a mistake," he said to himself, "in entrusting my proposal to that rattle-pated baroness. She went about it the wrong way; she didn't even mention my name! She said that I was an oldroturier—that was all; and the little countess never guessed that she was referring to a well-preserved man, whom she herself praised for his excellent health and fine appearance; a man she knows to be generous and big-hearted, and whose talents as an amateur gardener and producer of varieties are not to be despised. I propose to straighten matters out. I am going to declare myself, and find out whether I am to love her or hate her."
He resolutely entered the house, and asked for an interview with the countess on business. She hesitated a little about receiving him; she knew that he was queer and she considered him a sort of maniac. She would have liked Marcel to be present at the interview; but she knew her old neighbor's sensitiveness, and she was afraid that she might impair Madame Thierry's interests by refusing to see him. So she bade her servant show him in. She was alone, but she thought that it would be the most absurd prudery to take alarm at a tête-à-tête with an old man whose rigid morals were well-known.
The rich man arrived prepared for a struggle; he imagined that he would have to fight to obtain this tête-à-tête. When he found that it was accorded him with no other obstacle than about two minutes of waiting, when he saw the slightly reserved but always courteous and affable greeting of his fair neighbor, his courage failed him. Like all those who have no opportunity to exchange their thoughts and no one to contradict them, he was as bold as any man could be in his projects; it was that boldness which had made him rich, and he had full confidence in it; but as he had never acted except behind the scenes, he was as incapable of taking a step in his own person on the stage of the world and of speaking to a lady, as he would have been of commanding a ship and negotiating with the Algonquin Indians. He turned pale, stammered, replaced his hat on his head, and fell into such dire confusion that Madame d'Estrelle, surprised and disturbed, was forced to come to his assistance by broaching the subject which, in her mind, was the motive of his visit.
"So we seem to be treading on delicate ground, my dear neighbor," she said to him in an amiable tone, "with respect to that wretched pavilion, which, I fondly hoped, was to establish a good understanding between us and put us on a neighborly footing. Do you know that I consider you unreasonable and that I am inclined to scold you?"
"I am mad, everyone knows that," rejoined Antoine sulkily. "If people keep on telling me so, they will end by making me believe it!"
"I ask nothing better than to be proved in the wrong," replied Julie; "but give me some good reason for accepting the gift you offer. I defy you to do it."
"You defy me? Then you wish me to speak? The reason is plain enough. I am interested in you."
"You are very kind!" said Julie, with an imperceptible smile of irony; "but——"
"But it's a fact, madame la comtesse, that you are made to make people think about you—and I was thinking about you, deuce take me! I said to myself: 'It's a pity that a person so—a lady who—in fact, a good woman should be hunted by bailiffs. I am only a vulgar fellow, but I have an idea that I'm not such a curmudgeon as the fine gentlemen and ladies of her family.'—That is why I said what I said; and you took offence at it, which shows that you look down on me."
"Oh! not that, no indeed!" cried the countess. "Look down on you because you wanted to do a kind deed? No, a hundred times, no! You know that that is impossible!"
"Then why refuse?"
"Listen, Monsieur Thierry; will you give me your word as a man of honor that you fully understand me, that you are quite sure of the sincerity and unselfishness of my behavior toward you?"
"Yes, madame, I give you my word of honor. If that wasn't so,mordié!do you suppose I would have come to see you again?"
"Very well, then I accept," said Julie, offering him her hand; "but on one condition, and that is that you give me back your good will."
Old Antoine lost his head when he felt that soft little hand in his hard dry one. He had a sort of dizzy feeling, and, in his uncertainty what to do with that hand, which he thought that he ought not to kiss, and which he dared not press, he let it fall again, and stammered out his thanks incoherently, but with something like warmth.
"Since you treat me as if you were my debtor," continued Madame d'Estrelle, "I warn you that I shall be very exacting. As a matter of fact, I need only twenty thousand francs for the moment. Authorize me to offer the other twenty thousand to Madame Thierry as from you."
"Oh! that isn't possible!" said Antoine angrily. "She will refuse.—There's a person who detests me! I have just been to call on her. She turned tail and ran up into her garret!"
"Is it that you have wronged her in some way then, neighbor?"
"Never! If she chooses to think otherwise—But let her say what she will, I am an honorable man."
"She has never said that you weren't."
"Has she never spoken to you about me? Come, onyourword of honor?"
"On my honor, never!"
"In that case—look you! tell her to respect me as she ought, and don't talk about giving her money that belongs to you; for, deuce take me! if you choose to think well of me and not blush at my friendship, I'll toss her a pretty little present! I'll redeem her house at Sèvres. What would you say to that, eh?"
"I should say, my dear neighbor," exclaimed Madame d'Estrelle, deeply touched, "that you are the best of men!"
"The best, honor bright?" said the rich man, flattered to the last degree in his pride; "the best, you say?"
"Yes, the best rich man whom I know."
"Then it's as good as done! Will you come to breakfast at my house to-morrow with some scientific men, very famous men of intellect, and attend a christening? Will you be godmother and stand up with me?"
"Yes, at what hour?"
"Twelve o'clock."
"I will come! but I must come with some one, as you are to have men there who do not know me. I will come with——"
"With my sister-in-law; I see what you are coming at!"
"Do you forbid me?"
"Forbid you? Do you know that you talk as if I were your master?" he rejoined, with a fatuous, mysterious air.
"As if you were my father," replied Julie artlessly.
An old man of impure morals would have been wounded by that remark; but Antoine was virtuous in his madness, and we have no hesitation in asserting that he was not in love with Julie. The countess alone, not the woman, was the object of his passion. It mattered little to him whether she was his adopted daughter or his wife. Provided that he could show her to his grave and learned guests on the morrow, to Marcel, to Julien, to Madame Thierry above all, and to all his gardeners, leaning on his arm or seated at his table, and manifesting a sort of filial affection for him, undisturbed by any thought of what people might say, it seemed to him that he should be perfectly happy.
"And if I am not satisfied yet," he mused, speaking to himself of himself with boundless affection, "I shall be in time to tame her and lead her on to marriage, to sacrifice her title for the name of Thierry senior, which will then be quite as illustrious as that of my brother, Thierry the painter!—Since you are sopolite," he said to Julie, "I will not be outdone. I will do all that you want me to do. For instance, be kind enough to invite Madame André Thierry in my name, and say to her that if you should fail to keep your appointment to-morrow through her fault, I will never forgive her as long as I live."
"I will answer for her, neighbor. Until to-morrow, and have no fear!"
"Would it trouble you to saymy friend?" said Antoine, whose tongue was loosened under the influence of internal well-being.
"It would not trouble me at all," replied Julie, laughingly; "I will call you that to-morrow, if you keep your word."
"You will call me that—in public?"
"In public, with all my heart."
The old man took his leave, staggering like a drunken man. In the street he muttered to himself, with gleaming eyes and vehement gestures. The people he met took him for an escaped lunatic.
He followed the wall of the Estrelle garden, instinctively turning to see if Julien was still working and if his lily was uninjured. Suddenly it occurred to him that Madame d'Ancourt might ruin everything if she should reveal to Madame d'Estrelle the name of the suitor she had described. Julie evidently had no suspicion; evidently she saw no ulterior purpose behind her old neighbor's attachment. There was no reason why she should not come around gradually to the point of accepting him for a husband as she had more experience of his munificence; but he had undertaken to progress too rapidly; he had come within an ace of spoiling everything. As the baroness was not opposed to his success, he must hasten to her before thinking of anything else, tell her how matters had progressed and enjoin silence upon her. He jumped into an empty cab which happened to pass, and ordered the cabman to take him to the hôtel d'Ancourt.
Julie was profoundly moved; like every generous heart which has set on foot and carried through a good action, she was happy in absolute forgetfulness of self. That forgetfulness of self was so complete that she threw over her shoulders a light cape of violet silk and ran to the pavilion, impatient to announce the great news to Madame André, and to make her promise to chaperone her at the banquet at the hôtel de Melcy. She was thinking no more of Julien than if he had never existed, or, if she did think of him, she had no conception of the danger she ran in meeting him. That danger, of the gravity of which she was entirely ignorant, seemed to her a trifle in comparison with the great event which led her to go to his mother. Moreover, she was alone. No one in her salon, no one in the garden. Would the roses be scandalized by her action, would the nightingales cry out over the walls that Madame d'Estrelle was going into a house where there might be a young man whom she had never seen?
At that moment Julien had no leisure to watch for Julie's approach. He must paint rapidly and without distraction. The lily could not promise not to fade and curl at the edges before the last stroke of the brush. Madame Thierry was in her room with Marcel, who, after exchanging a few words with Julien, was attempting to confess and convince his aunt by lecturing her in private, as the subject of his homily had thus far been kept from the young artist, and it was thought best to keep him in ignorance of it.
Madame d'Estrelle tapped gently at the door of the pavilion. A huge dray laden with stone was passing along the street at that moment. The creaking of the wheels, the shouts of the drayman and the cracking of his whip drowned the faint sound of her knocking. Being most anxious to see Madame Thierry before she was informed of what had happened, and offended by some gruff message from the eccentric Antoine, Madame d'Estrelle resolutely opened the outer door, then a second one, and found herself in Julien's studio, face to face with him; for his model was placed in the light that shone through the window upon that door, and Julie appeared to the artist in a flood of radiance, as if she had come to him in a sunbeam.
He was so unprepared for that vision that he nearly fell senseless. All his blood rushed to his heart and his face turned whiter than Monsieur Antoine's lily. He could neither speak nor bow; he stood rooted to the floor, palette in hand, with staring eyes and as if actually turned to stone.
What analogous process was taking place in the lovely countess's heart and senses? It is certain that at the sight of that wonderfully beautiful young man, of a type of beauty wherein nobility of outline was surpassed only by intelligence of expression, she had a sort of instinctive feeling of respect; for he was not really a stranger to her. She knew the whole story of his upright, noble labor, his persistence in working earnestly and regularly, his filial love, his generous aspirations, the esteem and affection which he deserved, and which nobody who knew him could deny him. It may be that she had sometimes been curious to see him, but if so she had forbidden herself to give way to curiosity, whether because it seemed childish to her, or because she had a vague presentiment of some danger to herself.
Let us not attempt to dissect her feelings farther. She was apparently all ready for the invasion of the sentiment which was to decide her fate. She received a terrible shock; the confusion which paralyzed Julien took complete possession of her, and for a moment she was as silent and motionless as he.
If anyone had seen that beautiful couple, fashioned by the hands of God, in some region inaccessible to social prejudices, coming together under the natural and awe-inspiring conditions of the all-governing logic, he would have said unhesitatingly that logic, born of God, had made that magnificent man for that fascinating woman, and that sensible, genuine woman for that high-spirited and earnest man. All was charm and gentleness in Julie's grace; all was passion and unselfishness in Julien's beauty. As at last their glances met in the bright radiance of that May sun, redolent with the fragrance of nature's new light, each one uttered mentally, as it were an outcry of irresistible love, the names which chance had given them—Julie, Julien—as if they were destined to have but one name between them.
Thus it required a mighty effort of will for them to remember the distance that separated them socially.
"Of course, it is the young painter," thought Julie; "I fancied for a moment that I saw a demi-god."
"Alas!" said Julien to himself, "it is thegrande dame; I fancied for a moment that I saw the half of myself."
She bowed first, and asked him if he were Monsieur Julien Thierry. He bowed to the ground as he said with a hypocritical expression of doubt:
"Madame la Comtesse d'Estrelle?"
What trifling! as if they had any occasion to ask questions before taking possession of each other.
"Is madame your mother out?"
"No, madame, I will call her."
And he did not stir; his feet seemed to be nailed to the floor.
"She is with my cousin Marcel Thierry," he added; "shall I tell him to come down and receive his orders?"
"Do not call anybody. I will go up if you will show me the way. But stay," she added, seeing that Julien was incapable of moving. "Perhaps it will be well to notify madame your mother. I did not see her yesterday; perhaps she is not well?"
"She is a little indisposed," said Julien.
"Then—yes, you must prepare her for a—pleasant surprise, thank God! which might, however, give her too great a shock. Tell her gently that I bring great and good news from Monsieur Antoine Thierry in relation to the house at Sèvres."
Julien could not nor did not think that he should resist the desire to thank Madame d'Estrelle. As he had recovered his presence of mind to some extent, he blessed her for what she was doing for his mother, in terms so overflowing with emotion and delicacy of sentiment, that she was profoundly touched, but not surprised. With such a nature as his and such an irresistible face Julien could not express himself otherwise. Thereupon the ice was broken and all the rigid rules of etiquette were forgotten, as if distrust would have been a mutual insult; and they talked for a moment with an extraordinary absence of constraint.
"I am overjoyed to have been of assistance to your mother," said Julie, "as you must know. She cannot have failed to tell you how dearly I love her!"
"You are quite right to love her, you will never repent it. Her heart is worthy of yours."
"I should be very glad if I could say that my heart is worthy of her confidence. Oh! she has told me about you! You adore her, I know; and God will bless you for that boundless filial love."
"He blesses me already, since it is you who say so."
"And I do say so with all my heart. Why should I not say so to you? There are so few persons whom one can esteem without reserve!"
"There are some whose esteem is so great a blessing, that, in order to obtain it one would accept the hatred and contempt of all the rest of mankind."
"Oh! that is mere politeness; you do not know me well enough——"
"I know you, madame, by your acts of kindness, by the nobleness and delicacy of your heart. One must needs be deaf not to know you, blind not to understand you; and the calling down of one more blessing on your head cannot surprise you, provided that it be done humbly by one forever prostrate at your feet."
Julie felt that the atmosphere she breathed was beginning to glow. She instinctively tried to recover her self-possession, but could not find the necessary courage to run away from that perilous interview.
"Are you also pleased," she said, "to recover the house in which you grew up?"
"Pleased for my poor mother's sake, oh! yes, madame; but on my own account—no!"
"Are you attached to Paris?"
"No, not at all; but——"
Julien's glowing, melting eyes said plainly enough what his thoughts were. Julie understood only too well. She tried to change the subject; she looked at the artist's pictures, she praised his talent, which was revealed to her simultaneously with his love, and she thought that she was telling him that she understood his art; but really it was his passion that she understood, and each word they uttered betrayed the all-absorbing thought that was in their minds. They both suddenly became so confused that they had no idea what they were talking about, and Madame d'Estrelle pounced upon Monsieur Antoine's lily in order to seem to be talking about something.
"Ah! what a lovely flower," she said, "and how sweet it smells!"
"Do you like it?" cried Julien.
And with the heedless impetuosity of a lover drunk with joy, he broke the stalk of theAntonia Thierrii, and presented the superb flower to Julie.
Julie knew nothing whatever of the affair in which that plant played so important a part; she had not seen Marcel for three days, and as Madame Thierry carefully avoided any mention of Monsieur Antoine's name, nothing had been told her. When she was invited to a christening at the hôtel de Melcy on the following day, she naturally supposed that the subject was the child of some favorite gardener. In short she was a hundred leagues from imagining that by breaking that stalk Julien broke off all relations with his uncle, and cast, it might be, a whole lifetime of affluence at the feet of his idol.
And yet she uttered a cry of surprise and terror when she saw the artist's impulsive act.
"Ah!mon Dieu!" she exclaimed, "what are you doing? Your model!"
"I have finished," Julien replied hastily.
"No, you have not finished, I can see that plainly enough!"
"I can finish without a model: I know it by heart!"
And as he cast a last glance of mental possession on the lily, yielding for a moment to his love for his art, Julie replaced it on its stalk and held it there, saying with playful and utterly unconscious grace:
"I will hold it, finish your work; it will not wither at once. Come, make haste. The painting is so lovely! I should never forgive myself if I were the cause of your giving it up. Work away, I insist upon it!"
"You insist?" said the bewildered Julien.
And as there was another fresh piece of canvas behind his picture, he drew and painted with furious ardor Madame d'Estrelle's shapely and beautiful hand. The lily did not progress. It stood on its stalk to no purpose, while the unconscious Julie held it there waiting until it should droop never to rise again.
O Uncle Antoine! where were you while such a crime was being committed, fearlessly and remorselessly, under the eye of a drowsing or evil-minded Providence?
A noise on the stairs recalled Julie to herself; it was Marcel coming down to tell Julien that his mother had agreed to see Monsieur Antoine when he returned to the pavilion. Madame d'Estrelle, ashamed to be surprised in that tête-à-tête and on such extraordinarily familiar terms with the artist, hurriedly pushed the stalk of theAntoniainto the light, moist earth in the pot. TheAntoniaseemed to have noticed nothing and preserved its freshness and beauty, Marcel entered and did not discover the catastrophe.
The countess's presence was enough of a surprise for him. She felt exceedingly shamefaced before him, and Julien observed it. He at once, with true manliness, surmounted all emotion, and with imperturbable self-possession informed Marcel that madame la comtesse had just arrived and wished to speak with his mother. At the same time he brought a chair forward for Julie, as if she had not been seated at all, then left the room to tell Madame Thierry, saluting his visitor with respectful dignity.
Madame d'Estrelle was infinitely grateful to the artist for this sudden resolution. Even that slight indication showed her that he was no child capable of compromising her by ill-timed ingenuousness, but a man fully armed and ready to protect her against all the world, to save her at need from the consequences of her own rashness. She loved him altogether for it, but she felt at the same time that he was the master of her destiny, since there was already a secret between them to be concealed from the searching glances of their common friends.
While she tried to give Marcel a rapidrésuméof her conversation with Monsieur Antoine, Julien entered his mother's room. She saw such a radiant expression on his face that she cried out:
"Mon Dieu!how beautiful your eyes are this morning! What on earth has happened?"
"Madame d'Estrelle is downstairs," said Julien. "She brings you joy and comfort. She has induced Monsieur Antoine to redeem your dear littlecabin.Come quickly! put up your hair and come down to thank your good angel."
Madame Thierry, surprised, overjoyed, and at the same time dismayed—for the mother's eye could not be deceived, but saw clearly the restrained passion under Julien's apparent frankness,—was so overwhelmed that she burst into tears.
"Well, well," said Julien, "what does this mean? Poor mother! you are so stout-hearted in misfortune; can't you endure joy? Come, let your hair hang down, if you can't put it up and come down just as you are. Madame d'Estrelle will see you weeping for joy, and that will not make her feel hurt, I promise you!"
"Julien! Julien! there is pain blended with my pleasure! yes, and fear too!"
"You are afraid you will have to thank Monsieur Antoine? Nonsense, you unforgiving creature! that is too childish!"
Madame Thierry was on the point of swooning. Julien almost lost patience with her, for her agitation caused him to lose minutes, seconds which he might have passed with Julie. Marcel, who was delighted by the good news she had brought, was also vexed by his aunt's delay, and went upstairs to hurry her. So that Julie was left alone in the studio for several moments.
Those moments, swiftly as they passed, seemed afterward like a century in her memory, for the light shone into her heart in a single dazzling ray. "Your happiness is found," said an inward voice in a tone of sovereign authority: "it is here. It consists in nothing less than the possession of a boundless love concealed in the bosom of a narrow, straitened existence. Julien's mother knew and enjoyed that happiness throughout her youth. Intercourse with the world and opulence added nothing to her happiness. They rather diminished it by introducing ideas foreign to love. Forget society, you will be the better for it. Break with your whole past, which deceived you and set you at odds with yourself. Become reconciled to your own beginnings, which are more nearly connected with the third estate than with the nobility; and to your conscience, which reproaches you for having listened to the advice of false glory and for having yielded to the threats of your ambitious kinsfolk; seek to be received back into favor by the God who abandons souls which are enamored of false joys; be true, be strong like this young man who adores you, and who has just revealed to you in a glance the greatest and noblest passion you will ever inspire!"
As she listened to this mysterious voice in her own heart, Julie looked about her and was surprised to find that a divine tranquillity succeeded to the agitation which had overwhelmed her. She thoroughly relished the charm of a very simple little phenomenon. Short-sighted though she was, she was able to see everything in a room so much smaller than those to which she was accustomed. A very humble dwelling was that Louis XIII. pavilion; but it was embellished by a tastefulness of arrangement which revealed the artist whose love of refinement was not lessened by poverty. The building was not ugly in itself. The deep, broad window-recess where the widow had installed her arm-chair as in a little sanctum, with her spinning-wheel, her little table and the cushion for her feet, imparted a sort of homelike Flemish aspect to that part of the studio; the rest had been recently restored, but with the strictest economy. Plain gray wainscoting with raised borders to the panels; straight lines everywhere, but nothing out of proportion; a white ceiling, rather low, but devoid of any crushing effect; above the doors, oval spaces with very simple garlands of foliage carved on wood and painted, as was the beading of the panels, a deeper shade of gray than the rest; two or three beautiful fruit and flower pieces, highly prized specimens of André Thierry's work, with several sketches and one or two small studies by Julien; a large bowl of Rouen porcelain, standing on a console in front of a mirror, and filled with wild flowers and green branches gracefully arranged and hanging to the floor; a small rug before the couch, two or three easels, shells, boxes of insects, statuettes and engravings on a large table; cane-seated oak chairs, and a small harp, whose old gilded frame glistened in a dark corner, the only brilliant object in the whole room: surely there was nothing in all this to denote great affluence; but over it all there was a varnish of exquisite neatness, an atmosphere of freshness and a soft light most conducive to revery. The studio was darkened a little by the lilacs in the garden, which were too near and too dense; but there was a strange fascination in that greenish light, and there was in the air an indefinable invitation to rapt contemplation, which Julie felt most profoundly. What more did one need than that humble and unpretentious retreat to taste the pure joy and unending bliss of moral security? Of what benefit was it to Julie to have magnificent furniture, a thousand trinkets on her what-nots at which she never looked, blue ceilings starred with gold over her head, Gobelin carpets under her feet, Sèvres vases to hold her bouquets, lackeys in gold lace to announce her friends, her pockets full of Chinese fans, and her jewel-cases of diamonds? All those things had amused her but a single day, and what playthings can divert a heart that is bored? Julien's austere and laborious life, his pathetic, never-ending tête-à-tête with his mother, his love, concealed and prostrate as he himself had said,—these were surely purer and nobler than the existence, surrounded by flattery, of a frivolous or blasé nobleman.
A sparrow which Julien had tamed, and which lived among the neighboring trees, entered the studio and lighted familiarly on Julie's shoulder. She was surprised for a moment and thought that it was a miracle, a presage of happiness or of victory. She was really bewildered with emotion.
At last Madame Thierry appeared, sorely perturbed and deeply moved. She had insisted upon being left alone with the countess for an instant. She threw herself at her feet, and, being at once compelled by her to rise, spoke thus to her:
"You are as kind as the angels, my lovely neighbor. I bless you a thousand times! But I must tell you of my sorrow as well as my joy: my son, my dear Julien, is lost if he does not abandon all hope of ever seeing you again. He loves you, madame, he loves you madly! He deceived me, he told me that he had hardly seen you in the distance; but he sees you every day, he gazes at you stealthily, he is driving himself wild, he is killing himself, by looking at you. He doesn't eat, he doesn't sleep, he has lost all his cheerfulness, his eyes are hollow, his voice rings with fever. He has never loved before, but I know how he will love, how he loves already. Alas! he has an excitable temperament, with a mind of extraordinary constancy. Discourage him if possible, madame, by not looking at him, by not speaking to him, by never seeing him again. Have mercy on him and on me, and do not come to our house again! In a few days we shall go away; absence will cure him perhaps. If it does not cure him, I do not know what I shall do to avoid dying of grief."
Madame Thierry sobbed bitterly, and there was in her tears an eloquence born of conviction which dealt Julie the last blow. Her whole dream of happiness seemed destined to vanish in face of this mother's despair. That delicious revery which had poured such balm into her heart was a mere vagary at which she herself would smile when she returned home. Had she decided to break all social bonds in order to throw herself into the arms of a man whom she had just seen for the first time? That was a most absurd idea, and Madame Thierry was a thousand times right in looking upon it as impossible. Julie made an effort to agree with her and to drive away the vertigo that had assailed her; but the charm must have been exceedingly potent, for it seemed to her that reason had torn the heart out of her breast, and, instead of devising some dignified and sensible response to encourage the poor mother, she threw herself into her arms and followed her example by bursting into tears.
These tears so surprised Madame Thierry that she nearly lost her head. She dared not ask for an explanation of them; nor indeed had she any time to do so, for Julien and Marcel entered the room.
"Come, come, my dear mother," said the former, "you weep too much, and I am sure that you have forgotten to thank madame and make up your mind what to do. Marcel tells me that you ought also to thank Monsieur Thierry in person, and to go to his house to-morrow to——"
At that moment Julien, who was trying to see Julie's face, which was turned toward the window, detected the furtive movement she made to conceal and wipe away her tears. He forced back an exclamation, and involuntarily stepped toward her. Marcel, who saw the extraordinary confusion of the two women, but could not understand it at all, unless it meant that Madame Thierry had had an attack of hysterics and had said something too affecting to the countess, tried to take up Julien's interrupted sentence and continue the conversation.
"Yes, yes," he said, "to-morrow we are to attend the christening of——"
But he followed Julien's example, and stood with staring eye and parted lips, unable to utter another word; for he had glanced, not at Julie, but at the plant which he was about to name, and saw that it was reduced to a parcel of leaves from which protruded a broken stalk, wet with the sap that dropped from it like tears.
"Where is it?" he cried in dismay. "Great God, Julien, what have you done with it? where is theAntonia?"
Nobody answered. Madame Thierry looked at Julien, who looked at nobody but Madame d'Estrelle, and Madame d'Estrelle, who knew nothing about the lily, did not know what to think of her solicitor's unaffected dismay.
"What are you looking for, pray?" she said, rising.
And as she rose she dropped at her feet theAntonia, which, when she was left alone, she had taken from the vase again and laid lovingly on her knees.
Madame Thierry understood at once. Marcel simply noticed the fact; he had no suspicion of the real explanation.
"Ah! madame," he exclaimed, "to any other than you I should say that you have ruined us! But what can I say to you? And, after all, why need we fear, when you are the culprit? Uncle Antoine cannot possibly be angry with you, as you did not know. Did not Julien tell you?"
"Evidently Julien did not explain matters to our benefactress," said Madame Thierry; "but she must see that everybody here is not in his right mind, and that, by seeking to assist us, she runs the risk of adding to our woes."
"You are the one who is not in her right mind, mother," cried Julien, vehemently. "Really I don't understand you to-day! You are over-excited; your words betray your thoughts. It seems that, instead of thanking Madame d'Estrelle, you have been confiding to her some dreams or other."
Julien continued to scold his mother, who began to weep afresh. Marcel, observing Madame d'Estrelle's stupefaction, led her aside and gave her in three words the key to the mystery, and with it tangible proof, so to speak, of the young artist's ardent passion. She was profoundly affected at first, but she recovered her presence of mind and summoned all her strength to turn aside the blow which threatened the family.
A DISTURBED CONFERENCEJulien roughly enjoined silence on Marcel, grasping his arm and whispering: "For God's sake, hush! there is somebody outside listening!"
A DISTURBED CONFERENCEJulien roughly enjoined silence on Marcel, grasping his arm and whispering: "For God's sake, hush! there is somebody outside listening!"
"Leave it to me," she said to Madame Thierry, striving to be cheerful; "I take everything on myself. It was I who committed the sin, it is for me to repair it."
"The sin! What sin?" cried Julien.
"Yes, yes, I took a fancy to that flower and asked you for it! No, no! what am I saying? I am losing my mind! It was I who broke it, a foolish caprice—in a fit of absent-mindedness! You were not here. I am awkward, I can't see very well—However, I will explain it all to your uncle.Mon Dieu!what do you expect that he will do? He won't beat me. I will humbly beg his forgiveness; he is not so hard-hearted!"
"Alas!" said Madame Thierry, "unfortunately he is very hard-hearted when he is injured, and if he knew that Julien had committed this sacrilege——"
"So it was really Julien who did it?" said Marcel, utterly dumbfounded. "This is very strange!"
"Well, yes, it was I, I alone!" replied Julien, vehemently, "and there is nothing strange about it."
"Yes indeed there is!" said Marcel in an undertone, his eyes suddenly opened to the secret of the catastrophe. "You are a little too mad, my boy, and your heart must be as fickle as your brain to sacrifice your mother's future and your own in this way; to say nothing of the fact that Madame d'Estrelle is too kind, and that she would have done much better to teach you your place."
"Hush, Marcel, hush!" said Julien, "you are talking nonsense; you don't understand."
"I understand too well," replied Marcel, "and, on my word, I agree with your mother now, I say that you are losing your wits!"
This dialogue in undertones was carried on in the window-recess, while the two women stood together near the vase in which Madame Thierry was trying to replant the stalk of the beheaded lily, talking at random, and saying nothing which had the slightest meaning; for her greatest source of perturbation was not theAntonia, but the storm of passion which had caused its destruction. Suddenly Julien, who was in the habit of handling the curtain and examining the slit through which he looked into the garden, roughly enjoined silence on Marcel, grasping his arm and whispering:
"For God's sake, hush! there is somebody outside listening!"
There was someone there in truth, and it was too late to keep silent. Uncle Antoine had overheard all. How he came to be there, prowling about and spying, in Madame d'Estrelle's garden, we shall soon learn. Marcel felt Julien's gesture, discovered the slit in the curtain, and, looking out in his turn, saw the ogre listening. He left the window and warned Madame d'Estrelle. They talked together for a moment in pantomime. They had not been able to decide what course they should pursue, when Antoine, hearing nothing more, knocked at the garden door.
It was a good deal like the arrival of the statue at Pierre's festival. Julien was about to open the door, when Madame d'Estrelle, with a rapid forecast of the absurd scene to which her presence would give rise and of the deplorable outbreak which might follow if she were not present, instantly made up her mind as to her own course, detained Julien authoritatively by placing her hand on the young artist's quivering arm, and, motioning to him and to the others not to stir, she went into the vestibule, opened the door herself, and found herself face to face with Monsieur Antoine. Although he had prepared his part, he was a little surprised himself, whereas he expected to surprise everybody.
"You, neighbor?" said Julie, feigning astonishment. "What are you doing here? Did you come back to my house? Who told you where I was? and what induced you to pass through my garden?"
And, without waiting for his reply, she passed her arm through the horticulturist's and led him some distance from the pavilion to the shore of the little pond in the centre of the lawn in front of the mansion.
"Why—I was going to the pavilion," stammered Monsieur Antoine.
"So I assume, as I found you at the door."
"I was going there—with kindly intentions; but——"
"Who doubts it? Not I certainly, my friend."
"Ah! at last you call me what I want you to call me! Very good, then you are willing to talk with me alone, I see—The same with me; I want to talk to you about an idea of mine——"
"Let us sit down on this bench, neighbor, and I will listen to you; but first you must listen to me, for I have a confession to make to you."
"Pshaw! pshaw! I know what your confession is; you plucked my lily, didn't you?"
"Ah!mon Dieu!how did you know it?"
"I overheard a few words and I guessed the rest. Why need you have broken the poor flower? Couldn't you have asked me for it? couldn't you wait till to-morrow? I intended to give it to you."
"But—suppose I did not do it on purpose?"
"You didn't do it on purpose?"
Julie felt that she was blushing, for Antoine scrutinized her closely, and there was a half bitter, half tender irony in his little black eyes.
"Really," she replied, trying to save herself by a Jesuitical expedient, "the accident happened against my desire."
"Good," rejoined Antoine, still staring at her, "put it that way, I like that better."
"You like that better—than what?"
"Mordié!yes, I like it better. Come, abandon the worthless cause you are trying to plead; condemn Master Julien's madness and disloyalty without reserve; let me punish him as I think best."
"But what makes you think that Master Julien——"
"Oh! don't try to lie any more," cried Monsieur Antoine, springing to his feet as if impelled by the quivering of his whole irritable and passionate little being; "it isn't becoming in you to lie, you know! And then it's no use, for I tell you I heard everything, and as I'm no fool I concluded—Julien has taken a fancy to you, and the rascal would tell you so if he dared!"
"What do you say, Monsieur Thierry?"
"I say—I say things as they are. Mademoiselle de Meuil was as proud as you can possibly be; my brother André told her fairy stories, and he ended by making her listen to him. All men and all women are made of the same stuff, I tell you! There's only one question of any importance now: does Julien take your fancy, yes or no?"
"Monsieur Thierry, if I did not know that you have a kind heart, your wretched manners would disgust me! Be kind enough to adopt a different tone, or I shall leave you."
"Ah! you propose to be angry, do you? Your pride has taken hold of you again, and you are going to turn your back on me? Why? All this is no concern of yours! Julien did the crazy thing, it is for him to pay for it."
"No, Monsieur Thierry, that is my place. My bungling caused the accident; if I had not admired and praised the flower too enthusiastically—He felt obliged to offer it to me—courtesy——"
"Poor reasons, poor reasons, my fair lady! The rascal knew perfectly well that I would have thrown the flower, the plant, the garden, aye, and the gardener to boot, at your feet. If he didn't know it, he should have guessed it, and, in any event, he had no right to play the gallant with my property; it's kidnapping, it's an abuse of confidence and a theft. He will live to rue it and his dear mamma will find out what it costs to have an ill-bred son play the courtier to great ladies at just the wrong time."
"Come, come, my good neighbor," cried Madame d'Estrelle, deeply distressed and annoyed, "surely you do not propose to withdraw your favor from them; you are not going to give me the lie, for I placed you on a pedestal; you are not going to break off the friendship which you and I contracted to-day, just for a flower more or less in your collection? Your fortune makes a loss so easily repaired of little consequence."
"You talk very jauntily about it! There are some things which millions can't replace, and which a man of taste considers beyond all price!"
"Oh!mon Dieu! mon Dieu!who could have guessed that?"
"Julien knew it."
"Impossible!"
"I tell you he knew it."
"Then he is mad; but that is not his mother's fault: she was not there."
"It is his mother's fault! She encourages him to love you, she scrapes acquaintance with you in order to induce you to do what she did for her husband."
"No! as to that, I give you my word of honor you are wrong, Monsieur Thierry! She is in despair——"
"At what? Ah! you see, she has spoken to you about it, and you knew of the young man's presumption."
Madame d'Estrelle struggled to no purpose. All the prudence of her sex, all the pride of her rank, all her natural shrewdness, and all her familiarity with society went for naught against the rich man's narrow and uncompromising logic. She was as if caught in a vise, and felt shamefaced, awkward, helpless, at the end of a no thoroughfare. What should she do? Turn out this boor who forced her to submit to a distasteful examination, and thereby abandon the cause of the poor Thierrys and turn them over to his vengeance; or restrain herself, defend herself as best she could, and submit to the humiliation of the most untimely of reprimands?
"It seems," she said with sorrowful resignation, "that I made a very great mistake in going into that pavilion! I was very far from having any such idea, I had never seen Master Julien Thierry, and I started out with my mind full of your fine promises, to carry joy to his poor mother! I am well punished now for being so enthusiastic about you, Monsieur Thierry, since you consider that you are entitled to lecture me as if I were a little girl, and to call me to account for the most innocent if not the most honorable step that one woman can take toward another!"
"For that reason you are not the one whom I blame," replied Monsieur Antoine, softened in one direction and proportionately more irritated in the other; "the true culprits are the ones I blame without appeal. Do you know what would have happened if I had entered just at the moment when Master Julien was breaking my lily? Why, I would have broken Master Julien! Yes, as sure as I am talking to you, the head of this cane would have broken his painter's head!"
Madame d'Estrelle was alarmed by Monsieur Antoine's excited, vindictive manner; she was really afraid of him and involuntarily looked about her, as if in search of protection in case his wrath should turn against herself. She fancied that she could hear a rustling in the dense foliage behind the bench, and although it might have been only a bird hopping among the branches, she felt vaguely reassured.
"No, my good neighbor," she rejoined with courageous mildness, "you cannot make me believe that you are a bad man, and you will do nothing unkind to anyone. You may vent your wrath on me alone, within the limits of your rights in that direction. You may scold me—and I will accept the rebuke. I will promise you what I have already promised myself, never to set foot in that pavilion again. What more can I do? Come, tell me."
At that moment the foliage stirred again, and Julien's tame sparrow came and perched on Madame d'Estrelle's shoulder, as if sent by him to ask her forgiveness. She was more deeply moved by that little incident than she chose to admit, and she took the little creature, which was already on familiar terms with her, in her hand, with a sort of affection.
"Hum!" said Monsieur Antoine, whose piercing eyes seemed to possess the power of divination; "that's a strange kind of a companion! Is it yours?"
"Yes," replied Julie, fearful of some revengeful act against Julien.
"A sparrow! Vile beasts! they do nothing but harm. If it wasn't yours—Did Julien give it to you?"
"Nonsense! you think of nothing but Julien!" said Madame d'Estrelle, losing patience; "really I don't know what direction our explanation is taking. I am very, very sorry for what has happened, I regret extremely that I was the cause of it; but can you not tell me how I can repair it, instead of hurling all these offensive insinuations at my head?"
"Do you want me to tell you?"
"Yes! have I not promised to go to your house to-morrow to attend a family festival?"
"The christening of my poorAntonia!That is out of the question now. The child is dead, or at all events disfigured. I ought to invite my friends to a funeral. And then, you see, this idea of inviting Madame André and making the best of a bad business with her son—that isn't to my liking—that is to say it is no longer to my liking, unless——"
"Speak," said Madame d'Estrelle eagerly, for she began to think that the rich man, repenting of his munificence, might contemplate a reduction in the price he had offered for the pavilion. "I agree to anything that will indemnify and pacify you."
Master Antoine's vanity was immeasurable. Madame d'Ancourt, whom he had seen an hour earlier, had, in her spite against Julie, puffed him up by confirming his presumptuous hopes. He had returned with the intention of offering himself. Not finding Julie in her salon, he had mustered courage to surprise her in the garden. The incident of the broken lily seemed to hasten forward the opportunity. His brain whirled with insane conceit and he made his declaration.
"Madame," he said, "you force me to it with your pretty words and your gentle manners; I am going to stake all to win all, and if you are angry at what I say, the fault is your own. Let us see! you are not rich, and I know that you weren't born on the steps of a throne. I believe that you are not proud either, since you go to a poor painter's studio and accept his attentions—at my expense!—a good joke, eh? But no matter; let us laugh over it, but let us come to something reasonable at last. It makes no difference if Julien has ancestors on his mother's side, he's my nephew, he's a plebeian. Do you despise him for that?"
"No indeed!"
"Then his crime is being poor, eh? But suppose he was rich, very rich, then what would you say to him?"
"Do you propose to give him a dowry, so that I can marry him?" cried Madame d'Estrelle in utter amazement.
"Who said anything about that?"
"Excuse me! I thought——"
"You thought that I was suggesting an idiotic performance to you! What is an artist? It would be of no use for me to give him a dowry; money I had earned wouldn't raise him in your eyes, I fancy. Consideration belongs of right to those who have carved out their own lot in life and have earned success by their shrewdness in business. Come, you understand what I mean! I offer you an excellent match, a good-sized fortune, and a name that makes some noise in the world. The man is one who will gratify all your wishes as long as he lives and leave you all his property after his death; who has no former mistresses nor unlawful children, nor debts, nor worries, nor ties of any sort. Lastly he is a man who might be your grandfather, and whom no one will ever accuse you of choosing from caprice or coquetry, but who will do credit to your good sense and your honorable feelings; for you have debts, more debts than property. I know the amount of 'em! It is pretty big, and if Marcel were a good calculator, he wouldn't tell you to go to sleep. Reflect on what I say! Great annoyances are in store for you if you say no, while everybody will congratulate you on making a sensible match. You seem tremendously surprised, and yet your friend the baroness told you—but perhaps she didn't tell you the amount?"
"Five millions, isn't it?" replied Julie, who had become pale and reserved. "So it was you she referred to, and you are talking about yourself?"
"Very well, what then? It scandalizes you, it insults you, does it?"
"No, Monsieur Thierry," Julie replied with a mighty effort. "On the contrary I am highly honored by your offers, but——"
"But what? my age? Do you suppose I propose to play the lover? No! thank God, I never had that weakness, and I don't propose to make myself ridiculous at my age. I simply propose to be your father by contract, and to employ marriage as a means of making you my heiress. Well, that's enough of talk. You must say yes or no, for I am not of a disposition to remain in doubt, and I don't choose to be humiliated, do you understand?"
Monsieur Antoine spoke in a curiously imperious tone; Julie was afraid that a refusal would exasperate him.
"You go too fast," she said; "as it happens, I am naturally hesitating and timid. You must give me time to reflect."
"Then you don't say no?" rejoined the old man, evidently flattered by the hope that he was allowed to retain.
"I say nothing," replied Madame d'Estrelle, who had risen and was walking toward her house with some anxiety. "At this moment I am utterly bewildered by an offer which I did not expect. Give me a few days to think, to consult my feelings.—Really, I am deeply moved, deeply touched by your friendship, and also very much alarmed, for I had sworn to remain free! Adieu, Monsieur Thierry, leave me! I really long to be left alone with my conscience, and I do not want you to try to take it by surprise by your kindness."
Julie made her escape, and Uncle Antoine left the garden, forgetting the pavilion, the picture, the lily, everything, and in the throes of a fever of hope which made him act more like a madman than ever; but, when he found himself on Rue de Babylone, in front of the pavilion, he was seized with a fierce longing to torment and puzzle and confound his relations. He rang and was admitted by Marcel, who was anxiously awaiting the result of his interview with Julie.
"Well," he said abruptly, "where is my plant? has Master Julien finished my picture?"
"Go into the studio," said Marcel; "you will see your picture all finished, and your lily as fresh as if nothing had happened to it."
"Oh! yes," muttered Antoine satirically, "of course it did it good to be broken!"
And he entered the studio with his hat on, without glancing at or seeing his sister-in-law, who was sitting in her little straw arm-chair in the window-recess, thoughtful and downcast. He walked straight to his lily, examined the fracture, and looked carefully at the flower, which was still blooming in the moist earth. Then he looked at the picture of theAntoniaand said:
"I am satisfied with it; but you shan't have my custom, I tell you!"
Then he walked across the studio, passed close to Madame Thierry and saw her, put his hand to the brim of his hat, saying in a surly tone: "Your servant, madame!" returned to Marcel, laughed in his face for no apparent cause, like a crazy man, and at last strode toward the door, frantic because he could find nothing to say to satisfy his thirst for revenge, without sacrificing the good opinion of his conduct which he wished hisfiancéeto retain.
Marcel, seeing his agitation, detained him.
"Come, come, uncle," he said, "we must find out where we are! Has the Comtesse d'Estrelle obtained our forgiveness, or must I sell my office to pay for the damage?"
"The Comtesse d'Estrelle," replied the old man, "is a judicious person, who knows how to tell the difference between people without brains and a man of sound sense. You will see the proof of it some day or other."
Madame Thierry, who could not endure her brother-in-law's overbearing manner, and who fancied that he meant to defy her, rose to go up to her room. Antoine bowed very slightly and added:
"I didn't say that for your benefit, Madame André. I have nothing to say to you."
"Nor I to you," retorted the widow, in a tone whose disdainful bitterness she strove in vain to stifle, as a matter of prudence.
And with a courtesy to Monsieur Antoine she withdrew.
Julien chafed at his bit in silence, incapable of humiliating himself by apologies, and Marcel followed with a keen glance the horticulturist's awkward and excited movements.
"What's the matter, uncle?" he said when Madame Thierry had gone out. "You are brooding over something good or something evil. Tell us the truth, that will be the better way."
"The truth, the truth," rejoined Monsieur Antoine, "we shall see the truth, aye, and know it when the time comes! And perhaps everybody won't laugh at it!"
Julien, who was still painting, lost his patience. He put down his palette, and, removing the carelessly twisted handkerchief which the painters of that time wore in the studio instead of a cap, he walked straight to Monsieur Thierry and forcibly interrupted his noisy, excited promenade. Then, with a serious and determined expression, he asked him to explain his vague threats.
"Monsieur my uncle," he said, "you act as if you propose to drive me to extremities; but I shall not on that account fail in the respect I owe you. Consider simply, I beg you, that I am not a child who can be made to tremble by contracting the eyebrows and assuming a deep voice. You would do better to observe and understand the real fact, that is to say the sorrow which I really feel for having offended you. Do not ask me how that disaster happened: oblivion of one's surroundings, absent-mindedness cannot be explained; but, since the thing is done, what do you propose to do to punish me, or what do you require me to do to atone for it? I am ready to prove my repentance or to submit to the consequences of my wrong-doing. Decide and do not threaten any more; that will be more worthy of you and of me."
Monsieur Antoine stopped short, apparently unmoved, but in reality greatly mortified by the superiority of the defendant's attitude over the judge's at that moment. He was afraid in a measure of appearing ridiculous, and a diabolical idea suggested itself to his mind as a means of putting an end to his embarrassment.
"Everything depends on Madame d'Estrelle," he said. "If she wishes, if she demands it, I will do all that I had promised to do for your mother, and I will even forgive you, notwithstanding the wicked thing you did; but I will do it on the condition that she comes to my house to-morrow with the rest of you, as she promised."
"But," said Marcel, "if everything is made up between you, didn't you remind her just now of the appointment?"
"I am not speaking to you, attorney," retorted Antoine; "do me the favor to leave the room, I want to talk with Master Julien alone."
"Go on, go on," said Marcel. "I am just going, for someone has been waiting in my office for me fully an hour. I will return and find out what you have decided."
When Julien and his uncle were alone, the latter assumed an even more comical air of solemnity.
"Listen," he said, "I want you to do an errand for me. You must go to the hôtel d'Estrelle."
"Excuse me, uncle, I shall not go there, for I should not be admitted."
"I count on your not being admitted. You will carry a letter, wait for the answer in the antechamber, and bring it back to me."
"Very well," said Julien, thinking that he could stop at the porter's lodge. "Where is the letter?"
"Give me something to write with."
"Here," said Julien, opening the drawer of his table. The horticulturist sat down and wrote rapidly; then he called Julien, who dissembled his impatience by removing his working jacket and putting on his coat, which he had dropped on a chair.
"Will you have a seal?" he inquired.
"Not yet. I want you to correct my note. I don't pride myself on my knowledge, and I may have made mistakes in spelling. Read it over for me, read it aloud, and then correct it, periods, commas and everything."
Julien, feeling that a trap was being set for him, cast a rapid glance over the few lines which his uncle had written in a firm hand. His head swam, and he was very near tearing the paper in his indignation; but he thought that he was being subjected to a test by that crabbed, eccentric mortal. He restrained his wrath, met without flinching the ferociously searching gaze that was fixed upon him, and read in a firm voice the contents of the note:
"Madame and friend:"We were so confused just now that we parted without making arrangements for to-morrow. I do not conceal from you that I shall regard your presence at my little party as a fresh ground of hope, and your refusal as a rupture or a regrettable delay of settlement. I have told you that I did not propose to be fooled, and you promised to be sincere. The night brings counsel. I am sure that to-morrow you will confirm me in the pleasant thoughts you allowed me to take away from your presence."Your friend and servant, who is impatient to call himself your fiancé,"ANTOINE THIERRY."
"Madame and friend:
"We were so confused just now that we parted without making arrangements for to-morrow. I do not conceal from you that I shall regard your presence at my little party as a fresh ground of hope, and your refusal as a rupture or a regrettable delay of settlement. I have told you that I did not propose to be fooled, and you promised to be sincere. The night brings counsel. I am sure that to-morrow you will confirm me in the pleasant thoughts you allowed me to take away from your presence.
"Your friend and servant, who is impatient to call himself your fiancé,
"ANTOINE THIERRY."
"Well," queried the old man when Julien had finished reading, "are there any mistakes?"
"Yes, a great many, uncle," said Julien tranquilly, taking the pen.
"Gently! I don't want her to see the corrections. Fix it neatly."
"It is done. Now seal it and write the address."
"Well, what do you say to that?" continued the uncle, writing Madame d'Estrelle's name on the envelope.
"Nothing," replied Julien. "I don't believe in it."
"Will you believe in it if you deliver the letter?"
"Yes."
"Then what will you say?"
"Nothing. It's your affair."
"Damnation! you are interested in it too!"
"How so, please?"
"The purchase of your house at Sèvres and its presentation to you depend on that letter."
"Very good, uncle. In that case, many thanks,"
"You have an air——"
"I have no air at all. Look at me."
Antoine could not support Julien's piercing and fearless glance.
"Come, off with you!" he said angrily; "take my letter."
"I will go at once," said Julien.
He took up his hat.
"Where shall I bring you the reply?"
"In the street, in front of the house, where I will wait for you. Let us both go."
They went out together. Julien went straight to the porter, closely watched by his uncle, who did not lose sight of him; but, instead of entrusting the letter to that functionary, as he had determined at first, he said to him that he wished to speak to thevalet de chambre, and walked rapidly across the courtyard without turning. When he reached the antechamber Julien delivered the letter and sat down on the waiting bench, with the manner of one who does not expect to be received; but he said to the valet:
"Please inform madame la comtesse that, if there is any reply, Monsieur Antoine Thierry's nephew is waiting here to carry it to him."
Julien waited three minutes. The servant returned and said:
"Madame la comtesse desires to ask you some questions. Take the trouble to walk this way."
He opened a door at one side of the room and walked ahead. Julien followed him through a dark corridor; then the servant opened another door, placed a chair for him and withdrew.
Julien was alone in a handsome dining-room, the main door of which was opposite him. A moment later that door opened and Madame d'Estrelle appeared. She was very pale and excited.
"I receive you here," she said, "because I have visitors in my salon, and I cannot express myself before anyone on the subject which brings you here. Did Monsieur Antoine himself hand you this letter?"
"Yes, madame."
"And you know nothing of its contents, of course?"
"I do, madame."
"And yet you undertook to deliver it?"
"Yes, madame."
"Why so?"
"In order to find out whether my uncle is mad enough to be locked up, or fiendishly cruel."
"In other words—you were not sure—you wished to know if I had given him any right to write such a letter?"
"I did not believe it, and I expected that you would order me to be turned away without a reply."
"Then—as I receive you, you conclude——?"
"Nothing, madame, except that you can do nothing more cruel than leave me in uncertainty."
"Why should you take such a great interest in my affairs? Am I responsible to anyone?"
"Oh! madame, do not speak to me in that tone," cried Julien, fairly beside himself. "Either my uncle's wealth has imposed silence on your repugnance, and in that case I have absolutely nothing to say to you, or else you submitted to his impertinent offers with a patience which misled him; and if you were so patient, so kind as that to him, I can easily guess the reason. You were afraid that Monsieur Antoine's resentment would fall on us!"
"That is true, Master Julien; I thought of your mother, I avoided giving him an answer, I asked for time to reflect, I hoped that, in order to please me, he would first keep the promise he made me to restore Madame Thierry to happiness and comfort. That was wrong perhaps, for I was not frank, and that is contrary to my nature. Indeed, could I believe that that irascible, ill-mannered old man would begin by trying to compromise me? And yet that is just what is happening, and God knows what disagreeable consequences this may have for me! but I am wrong to think about it. When I see my endeavors to assist you come to naught, I am selfish to complain, and really my greatest sorrow consists in my being unable to be of any service to you after being the cause of your disaster. And what am I to do with a man who takes my fear for coquetry and my silence for an avowal?"