I walked toward Ernest, who had seen me and was coming toward me.
“So you are here, my dear Blémont? I am delighted that you are; I didn’t expect the pleasure of meeting you. So you know Leberger, do you?”
“Yes, he comes to my house sometimes.”
“His ball is very fine. I brought my wife; look, she is over there dancing.”
“I have seen her.”
“Marguerite did not want to come; but I lost my temper, and at last she consented. In the first place, Leberger told me: ‘It is just a small affair, without any formality.’ Anyone would expect that, at a bachelor’s quarters; and after all, my wife is quite as good as other women here. The instant that I call her my wife, no one should presume to call her anything else; and if we could know what all the people in this room have done, I fancy that we should learn some fine things.”
“You know my ideas on that subject, my dear Ernest; I am not one of those who believe in virtue only after a visit to the notary’s office. But no one here knows that you are not married, and it’s, not one of those things which there is any need of proclaiming.”
“Of course not. Just look at Marguerite; see how lovely she is! I was frightened, because I thought she would be awkward before people; she makes a betterfigure than I expected. I said to her before we came into the room: ‘My dear love, just persuade yourself that you are better-looking than all the people whom you are to see here, and then their staring will not frighten you.’”
“That is what a woman should always say to herself, even when she goes to court.”
“Madame your wife is not here?”
“I beg pardon, she is.”
“Oh! then I must go and bid her good-evening.”
“I think that she is dancing now.—There are some very amusing faces here, are there not?”
“Oh, yes! there are some fine subjects for a farce.”
I trusted that Ernest would forget to pay his respects to my wife; but how was I to prevent him? The quadrille came to an end. I took advantage of the moment when the ladies were being escorted to their seats, and I went to Madame Ernest, who luckily was far away from my wife.
My old neighbor seemed overjoyed to see me.
“Do sit down here with me a moment,” she said; “I am so glad to find someone that I know! I am lost in the midst of all these people. And poor Ernest doesn’t dare to leave me. I am afraid that it is boring him.—Do you think that my hair looks well?”
“Very well, madame.”
“It seems to me that it looks unbecoming. I much prefer myself in the little cap that I always wear at home. But Ernest insisted upon bringing me, so of course I had to make a toilet.”
“I beg pardon, madame, I should be very pleased to stay with you; but, you see, my wife is with me——”
“Madame Blémont is here! dear me! and I am keeping you. Oh! do show me your Eugénie; I should like so much to see her.”
“At this moment there are too many people between us. But Ernest knows her, he will show her to you. Excuse me, but I shall have the pleasure of seeing you again.”
I left Madame Ernest; she probably considered me far from courteous. Mon Dieu! how horrible it is to have a suspicious wife; a man does not know what to do nor how to behave in society.
At that moment Bélan clutched my arm and said:
“Good-evening, my friend; you know that I am not a cuckold.”
“Bless my soul! did I ever say that you were, my dear Bélan?”
“My friend, I have my reasons for telling you this. Those blackguardly Girauds have made most shameful remarks. My mother-in-law wanted me to fight them.”
“Fight Giraud and his wife?”
“I mean the husband, of course; I was anxious to do it myself; but my wife Armide insisted that it wasn’t worth while.—But those people are here; and when I see them I cannot contain myself.”
“Mon Dieu! do you mean to say that you believe everything that is told you? Perhaps the Girauds have never mentioned you.”
“Oh! yes, they have; they have even—Excuse me, my mother-in-law is beckoning to me.”
Bélan left me. I was still laughing at what he had said when I saw Ernest talking with my wife. Well! there was no way of preventing that. After all, I was very foolish to torment myself when I had no reason for self-reproach.
Ernest walked away from Eugénie, and I went to her. From her manner toward me, I saw that she knew that Madame Firmin was there.
“I did not want to come to this ball,” said Eugénie; “it was clearly a presentiment. I should have followed my inclination, and then I should not have come into contact with people whom I don’t want to see. You have been talking with your former neighbor, monsieur, of course?”
“My neighbor? Oh! I beg your pardon—you mean Madame Firmin.”
“I know that she is here,—hermonsieurwas good enough to tell me so just now.”
“It is true that Madame Firmin is here and that I have been to say good-evening to her.”
“How pleasant it is for me to be at a party with that woman!”
“I give you my word that, if I had known that she was to be here to-night, I would not have urged you to come.”
“Oh! I believe you! but you need not let that embarrass you, monsieur. Ah! that is she, no doubt, just passing with her Monsieur Ernest. What an ordinary face! anyone could see what she is. But pray go, monsieur; perhaps she wants to speak to you. She is staring at me, I believe, the impertinent creature! I beg you, monsieur, at least to forbid her to look at me in that way.”
I was on the rack; Ernest and Marguerite had passed very close to us, and I trembled lest they had heard Eugénie. I walked away and took a seat at an écarté table, where I remained for more than an hour.
When I returned to the ballroom, I passed Madame Ernest. She looked at me and smiled; evidently she had not overheard my wife; I walked toward her, for I had made up my mind, and I was no longer disturbed about what people might think.
“Do you not dance, Monsieur Blémont?”
“Not often.”
“I have seen your wife; she is very pretty, but she has rather a serious expression. Is she always like that?”
“No, she has a headache.”
“Aren’t you going to dance with her?”
“She does not lack partners.”
“I don’t care if she doesn’t; I have been invited to dance a great deal; but I insisted on dancing with Ernest too. I haven’t missed a quadrille yet.”
“Are you enjoying yourself here?”
“Pretty well. But I prefer to be at home in our chimney corner.”
A partner came up and claimed Madame Ernest’s hand. I sauntered about the ballroom. My wife was dancing with a very good-looking little dandy. Bélan was standing opposite his wife, at whom he gazed with admiration, while tall Armide seemed vexed to have her husband for her vis-à-vis. Giraud joined me and said in a sly tone:
“It seems to me that Bélan has shrunk since he was married; his wife crushes him.”
“You are unkind, Giraud.”
“Just look at the mother-in-law yonder. Either she has been weeping, is weeping, or is about to weep.”
“Perhaps it is with pleasure.”
“Oh, yes, she has a very merry expression! How Bélan must enjoy himself with those two women! It hasn’t brought him good luck, not inviting us to his wedding. By the way, the marquis is not with them. How does that happen?”
“What marquis?”
“Ha! ha! you pretend not to know, do you? It is everybody’s secret.—But I believe that my daughter wants something to eat.”
Marguerite was right: the world is very unkind!—The quadrille came to an end. I was standing near my wife, although I was not speaking to her. Bélan stopped beside us, and, while passing the guests in review, pointed to Marguerite, saying:
“There’s one of the prettiest women in the room!”
“You have wretched taste, monsieur,” cried Eugénie. “How can anyone call that woman pretty? And what a style too! anyone can see what she is.”
“What? What is she, pray? Do you know her?” Bélan instantly made haste to ask.
“No, I don’t know her; but I know what she is, and——”
“Madame,” I interposed, “why do you feel called upon to speak ill of a person who has never injured you?”
“Never injured me? oh! you are pleased to say that, monsieur; but I may at least feel offended that Monsieur Leberger invites his friends’ mistresses to a ball that he gives for us.”
“The deuce! what do you say? That little woman——”
“Is Monsieur Firmin’s mistress.”
“I was told that she was his wife.”
“And she is his wife,” I said, with an angry glance at Eugénie. But she continued in an ironical tone:
“No, Monsieur Bélan, that little woman, whom you are kind enough to call pretty, is not Monsieur Firmin’s wife; and monsieur knows that better than anyone, although he tells you the contrary.”
“What? Do you mean that——”
I did not listen to what Bélan said; I turned my back upon Eugénie. I did not believe that she was spiteful, but what she had just done disgusted me. At that moment I believe that I detested her.
The dancing continued, but many people had gone. I walked about the studio. It seemed to me that I heard several people whispering to one another, and at the same time pointing at Madame Ernest. Bélan was quite capable of having gone about to tell all his acquaintances what my wife had told him. Poor Marguerite! she was pretty, so they were overjoyed to calumniate her. They would have been more indulgent if she had been ugly.
There was to be but one more quadrille. The orchestra gave the signal. Madame Ernest had a partner, who led her to a place opposite my wife. I saw that Eugénie instantly led her partner away and took her place elsewhere. Thereupon Madame Ernest’s partner led her to a place opposite Madame Bélan. Tall Armide did as my wife had done; she turned on her heel and returned to her seat, crying in quite a loud tone:
“I prefer not to dance.”
I was indignant. I hastily took the hand of the first lady I saw, without even taking time to invite her; I led her away and we took our places directly opposite Madame Ernest and her partner. Thereupon my wife did as Madame Bélan had done; she left the quadrille, darting glances at me to which I paid very little heed. While we were dancing, Ernest approached me. His face was red and his eyes gleaming.
“My friend,” he said to me in an undertone, “I thank you for what you have just done; I shall not forget it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh! you must have seen the ostentation with which those people refused to stand opposite my wife. Indeed, I overheard some words from that little man’s tall wife, and I had difficulty in restraining myself.”
“You are mistaken, Ernest.”
“Oh, no! she is afraid of compromising herself by standing opposite a woman who is not married! what a pitiful thing! If I chose to investigate the conduct of many of these married ladies, I fancy that I should make some very fine discoveries.”
Ernest talked quite loud and glanced ironically about. I was afraid that someone would hear him; I dreaded a scene. Luckily the quadrille came to an end. Little Marguerite had also noticed that several ladies smiled meaningly as they looked at her. She was not at her ease. She said to Ernest immediately after the dance:
“We are going now, aren’t we, my dear? It is late, and I am tired.”
“No, we will not go yet,” replied Ernest sharply; “I should be very sorry to go now; we will stay until the last.”
His wife was not in the habit of replying, and besides, she saw plainly that there was something wrong. Firmin took my arm and led me away. We walked around the studio. I tried to divert his thoughts from the subject which engrossed them, but Giraud came toward us, rubbing his hands.
“There is plenty of gossip here,” he said to me; “those Bélans are evil-tongued, I tell you.”
“My dear Giraud, I care little about gossip, and——”
“Do you see that young woman in blue over there, with blue flowers in her hair?”
Giraud was pointing to Madame Ernest. I did not reply, and I tried to drag Firmin away in another direction; but he dropped my arm and walked up to Giraud, saying:
“What have you heard about that lady? I am very fond of gossip myself.”
“They say that she isn’t married; that she’s the mistress of a young author who is here, and who introduces her everywhere as his wife.”
In vain I looked at Giraud and made signs to him; he was not looking at me, and he continued to speak to Firmin:
“People don’t like it because Leberger invited her to his ball, and they say that she doesn’t amount to much; that she has been an embroiderer, or a lacemaker; someone even declared that she used to be in the ballet at one of the boulevard theatres.”
“Monsieur,” said Firmin, seizing Giraud’s arm and squeezing it hard, “pray go to all those people who have made such remarks, and tell them from me that they are blackguards; that, although that young woman is not married, she is none the less worthy of esteem; that she is a thousand times more respectable than many lawful wives; and should I say to the ladies here, in the words of the Scriptures: ‘Let her who is without sin among you cast the first stone,’ I fancy, monsieur, that even your wife herself would not dare to stone my poor Marguerite.”
Giraud was sorely embarrassed; he realized what a fool he had made of himself, and he confounded himself in apologies. But Ernest absolutely insisted that he should point out the people who had made the remarks, and the business agent hastened to designate Bélan. Thereupon Ernest started toward the little man; I tried in vain to hold him back; he would not listen to me. I followed him, to try to adjust the affair. Bélan was in the act of handing a glass of orgeat to his wife. Ernest brushed roughly against him, and jostled him so that the glass and its contents fell upon the superb Armide’s dress. She uttered an exclamation; her mother uttered two. Bélan turned to Ernest and murmured:
“What the deuce! be careful what you are doing!”
Ernest simply smiled and said:
“That was very unlucky!”
Tall Armide saw the smile, and said to her husband:
“That man did it on purpose; he doesn’t even condescend to deny it.”
And the mother-in-law added:
“I trust, Monsieur de Bélan, that this is not the end of this business, and that my daughter’s dress will not be ruined with impunity. This gentleman must apologize,—he must!”
Bélan had become much less belligerent since he was married; however, he left his wife and walked up to Ernest, who had halted a few steps away.
“Monsieur, you have spoiled my wife’s dress, and I am surprised that you do not at least apologize, like a man of breeding.”
“Monsieur, you and your wife have tried to destroy my wife’s reputation; a dress may be washed, but slanderous words are not to be effaced for a long while; so that it is for you, monsieur, to apologize to me.”
Bélan was speechless. I made haste to intervene between them.
“My dear Ernest,” I said, “Bélan is guilty of thoughtlessness only; he has simply repeated what he overheard.”
“Certainly; I only repeated what Madame Blémont told me,” said Bélan. “I invented nothing. Notwithstanding that, monsieur, if you demand satisfaction——”
“No, no, Bélan; Ernest sees plainly that I am the only one with whom he has to deal, and you will offend me seriously by interfering in matters which concern myself alone.”
Bélan walked away to join his ladies. I do not know what he said to them, but he soon left the ball with them.As they went out, his mother-in-law cast a withering glance at Ernest.
I had remained by his side; he was lost in thought and said nothing to me. I first broke the silence.
“Ernest, my wife is the cause of all your disagreeable experiences this evening. I cannot explain the motives which have led her to act thus. I do not need to tell you that I disapprove of her conduct; but that probably will not suffice, and I am ready to give you satisfaction.”
“No, my dear Blémont; we are not going to fight just because your wife has made some unkind remarks; I do not need to have you explain her motives, for I understand them perfectly.”
“You understand them?”
“I can guess them, at all events. Your wife is jealous of Marguerite.”
“Who can have told you that?”
“Look you, my dear fellow; a man does not get to be an author without studying the human heart a little, and especially the female heart.”
“It is only too true; my wife is horribly jealous of all the women whom I knew before my marriage. But for that, do you suppose that I would not have invited you and your wife to come to see us?”
“I have guessed all that. I am sorry for you, my friend, but I bear you no ill will.”
“I am going to invite your wife for the next contradance.”
“No, for it will make your wife unhappy.”
“She has not hesitated to make me unhappy; and I choose to prove that I have no share in her spiteful remarks.”
I invited Madame Ernest for the quadrille; she accepted, saying with a laugh:
“I am very glad that you have asked me, monsieur; I thought that you did not consider that I danced well enough for you.”
“I am going to dance opposite you,” said Ernest; “then I shall be sure that you will have a vis-à-vis.”
The violins struck up. I took my partner’s hand. There were only enough people left to form one set. All our acquaintances had gone.
I looked about for my wife. She was ghastly pale, and that made me wretched; I felt all my anger fade away. I was almost sorry that I was dancing; but she should not have driven me to the wall.
Suddenly Eugénie rose and came toward me. What was she going to do?
“Monsieur, I do not feel well, and I want to go.”
“We will go after the quadrille, madame.”
“No, monsieur, I want to go at once.”
Marguerite overheard my wife, and instantly said:
“Monsieur Blémont, if madame your wife is not well, go, I beg you; do not mind me.”
“No, madame; I shall have the pleasure of dancing with you; then we will go.”
“What, monsieur,” said Eugénie satirically; “you do not come when madame gives you leave?”
“Madame, that is enough; not a word more, I beg you.”
“Very good! that is all, monsieur. I will leave you. Dance with this woman; make her your mistress again as she used to be when she lived under the eaves, in the attics of your house! I am going home.”
And she did go. But Madame Ernest had heard all; Eugénie had spoken loud enough to be sure of being overheard. Marguerite had turned red and pale by turns. She hung her head, and I thought that I could see tearsglistening in her eyes. But she quickly recovered herself, wiped her eyes with her handkerchief, and tried to resume a smiling expression as she looked at her husband.
I was thunderstruck and enraged at the same time. I did not know where I was; and in the midst of all that perturbation of spirit, I had to dance!
“Well, it is your turn,” called Ernest. “Forward! what are you thinking about?”
Luckily he had heard nothing. I took advantage of a moment when we were not dancing, to say to my partner in an undertone:
“Madame, you heard what my wife said, I see. I do not ask you to forgive her; she is unpardonable, jealousy has disturbed her reason; but be good enough to believe that I am more hurt than you by what she has said.”
“I confess, Monsieur Blémont, that I was so surprised, so shocked!—To call me your mistress! Great heaven! who could have said that I had been your mistress?”
“I trust that you do not think it was anything that I have ever said to her, madame?”
“Oh, no indeed, monsieur! But who can have told her that?”
“Nobody told her, madame. I tell you again, that jealousy alone can inspire such calumny.”
“My attic! she thought to make me blush by reminding me that I once lived in an attic. Oh! I don’t blush for it; there is often more virtue, more refinement in an attic than in a boudoir! But do you mean to say that your wife is jealous of me?”
“Yes, madame, ever since I was unfortunate enough to tell her of the evenings which I used to pass with you and Ernest. If you knew how unhappy her jealousy makes me! Alas! the happy days of our married life passed very quickly!”
“Oh! I am very sorry for you, Monsieur Blémont. I pity your wife too, and I forgive her, for Ernest did not hear what she said. But I beg you, never let him know what your wife said!”
“Most certainly, I shall not be the one to tell him!”
“Oh dear! I wish I had not come to this ball. I should have done much better to stay at home.”
That fatal dance ended at last. Everybody went away. Ernest and his wife bade me good-night. I read in Marguerite’s eyes how glad she was to go.
My wife had gone. Who could have escorted her? Could she have gone home alone? One thing was certain, that she was no longer there.
Leberger came to me and said:
“Are you looking for your wife? She felt rather indisposed while you were dancing, and Dulac took her home. You know Dulac?—a tall fellow,—one of our amateur orchestra.”
“I do not know the gentleman, but I will thank him when I see him.”
“He is a good fellow, who plays the violin very well. I will bring him to one of your receptions if you wish.”
“Do so. Good-night; it is late.”
“It was rather a pleasant affair, and people enjoyed themselves; don’t you think so?”
“Oh, yes! I enjoyed myself amazingly.”
I returned home. I expected a scene; it is always an advantage to be prepared. If only my wife might be in bed and asleep! But no, I heard her walking back and forth in the salon. Aha! I met the maid carrying a mattress. Madame was having a bed made for herself in her boudoir. What a bore not to find peace and quiet at home! to have more scenes and quarrels! And we had been married only three years and a half!
Well, I knew that I must face the storm, and I entered the salon. Madame was in a most dishevelled condition; she almost frightened me. She was holding a phial of salts to her nose.
I was kind enough to go to her and ask her if she were ill. She did not answer. I was on the point of taking a light and leaving the room, when madame sprang to her feet and planted herself in front of me.
“So you have left that woman at last, have you, monsieur?”
“I don’t know what you mean bythat woman, madame. I danced with a lady whom I esteem, and who has been generous enough to forgive you for the shameful remarks that you made before her.”
“She has been generous enough to forgive me! really, that is most noble of her! But I, monsieur, I do not forgive that lady, whom youesteem, for having the assurance to dance with you in my presence. That her clown of a husband should not object is quite worthy of him; but you, monsieur, have you no shame?”
“Yes, madame, I was ashamed this evening, and I was ashamed because I was the husband of a woman who behaved as you did!”
“What an abominable thing! You dare reprove me?”
“Yes, you, who slander in public a respectable woman.”
“Say a prostitute, monsieur.”
“You who publicly exhibit your absurd jealousy!”
“In truth, I am absurd to be jealous of you, you are not worth the trouble!”
“But do not expect, madame, that I will put up with such conduct! that you can insult my friends and that I shall keep quiet!”
“You ought to have made a scene before your mistress; that would have pleased her.”
“You did not hesitate to humiliate me before the world; for it is humiliating for a man to be put in the position in which I was put at that ball.”
“I shall go nowhere else with you, monsieur; then you cannot say that I shame you or humiliate you.”
“You will do well, madame. It is much better not to go with your husband than to behave as you did this evening.”
“From the tone in which you speak to me, monsieur, I see who the people are whom you have just left! You are profiting by their advice!”
Those words put the finishing touch to my exasperation. I rushed from the salon and locked myself into the bedroom.
Frequent disputes and rare reconciliations—so that was to be our life thenceforth. After Leberger’s ball, we passed a whole month without speaking to each other. That month seemed very long to me; I sighed for my bachelor days, but even more for the early months of our married life.
We spoke at last, but not with the same effusion of sentiment as before. On the slightest pretext my wife became excited and lost her temper. When I argued with her, she had hysterical attacks and shrieked at the top of her voice. When we were first married, if we had a little discussion, she wept, but she never shrieked and she was never hysterical.
My daughter was three years old and she had grown to be a lovely creature; her features were as beautiful as her mother’s, but she never sulked; she had already begun to talk and to argue with me. I was passionately fond of my little Henriette; when I was at odds with her mother, I would take my daughter in my arms, cover her with kisses, and make up to myself with her for the caresses which I no longer bestowed upon Eugénie.
“You will always love me, won’t you?” I would say to Henriette; and when her sweet voice answered: “Yes, papa, always,” my heart experienced a thrill of well-being which often made me forget my quarrels with my wife.
When winter brought back the time of balls and parties, Leberger brought Monsieur Dulac to our house; he was a tall, dark young fellow, very good-looking, and with a somewhat conceited manner; but it is not safe to trust to the manners that a person displays in society: to know people well one must see them in private. However, Monsieur Dulac was well-bred and very agreeable; he was said to be an excellent musician; and he had an independent fortune; those recommendations were quite sufficient to cause him to be popular in society.
Monsieur Dulac seemed to enjoy coming to our house. He was a constant attendant at our receptions, and sometimes he came to see me in the morning. He had a trifling difference about a farm which he owned in common with a cousin of his; he requested me to adjust the affair, which I readily undertook to do. The young man manifested much regard for me, and although I knew that one should not rely upon society friends, I have always allowed myself to be taken in by manifestations of friendship for myself, for I have never pretended to like people whom I did not like.
Thanks to Monsieur Dulac, we had music at our house more frequently. My wife had almost abandoned her piano; I need not say that she had ceased to give me lessons, for one must be on the best of terms with a person to have patience enough to teach him to play on any instrument. We were not always on good terms, and Eugénie was not patient; she had declared that I did not listen, and I had made the same complaint with respect to her painting; so that brush and piano were alike neglected.
But Monsieur Dulac, who played the violin very well, urged my wife to take up music again; I myself was very glad that Eugénie should not forget an accomplishment in which she was proficient. She consented, because a stranger’s compliments are much more flattering than a husband’s; the piano resounded anew under her fingers, and I listened with pleasure; she used to play so often when I was paying court to her!
With the taste for music, Eugénie also contracted a taste for balls, receptions, the theatre—in a word, for the world. We began to see a great many people; almost every day we had invitations to dinners or other festivities; and then we were bound to return the courtesies we had received; so that we had not a day to ourselves. That was not the placid existence which we had planned in the early days of our married life. For my own part, I confess that that constant rush made me dizzy; but it pleased my wife and it was one way of obtaining peace.
I earned enough money to meet the expenses of the life we led. Eugénie now spent on her dress a large part of her income. She had become very coquettish of late; however, she was not yet twenty-five, and she was as pretty as ever.
What distressed me was that amid all this dissipation my wife paid little attention to her daughter; our Henriette never lacked anything and she was well taken care of, but it seemed to me that her mother did not pet her enough. Eugénie loved her daughter dearly; I could not doubt that; perhaps it was because I spoiled her a little that she was more stern with her. I dared not reprove her; indeed at that moment I carefully avoided everything that could excite her; once more she was expecting to become a mother and I had received the news with the most intense delight; I felt that I should be so happy to have a son! To be sure I could not love him any more dearly than I loved my daughter, but I should love him as much, and from the delight that one child afforded me, I felt that with two my happiness would be twice as great. So I was most assiduous in my attentions to my wife; but I did not see that she was any more amiable to me.
I went very seldom to see Ernest, but I knew that they were happy. They had two children now, whom they adored, and Marguerite liked better to remain by their cradles than to go to balls or parties. I confessed to myself that I would have been glad if Eugénie had had such quiet tastes. Marguerite always was kind enough to inquire for my wife; as for Ernest, he had never entered our house again, and I approved his course.
I had not met Bélan for a long while, when he entered my study one morning, flushed, panting, and in a profuse perspiration. He sat down beside me and did not give me time to question him.
“I am, my friend, I certainly am! I am sure of it now. It is a most frightful, most abominable thing!”
“What is it that you are, then?” I asked, watching Bélan mop his forehead.
“Parbleu! do you need to ask? I am a cuckold!”
Bélan said this in such an absurd tone that I could not resist the desire to laugh. While I indulged it, Bélan sprang to his feet and muttered in a feeling tone:
“I did not think that an old friend, a married man, would laugh like this at my misfortune.”
“I beg pardon, my dear Bélan,” I said, forcing him to resume his seat; “I beg pardon. You certainly cannot suppose that I intended to hurt you. But the fact is that you said that so suddenly that I thought it was a joke.”
“No, I swear to you that there is no joke about it. Mon Dieu! that wicked Armide! Such a well-bred woman, and nobly born! A woman who wouldn’t let me take off my shirt in her presence! I cannot stand it any longer, and I have come to consult you as to what I had best do. You are a lawyer and you will advise me.—Shameless creature!”
“Come, come! First of all, calm yourself, Bélan, and then, if you desire my advice, tell me what makes you think that your wife is deceiving you.”
“I have told you, my friend, of a certain marquis who used to pay court to my wife, and who afterward came in the kindest way to visit us. Oh! as to that, I must admit that he overwhelmed me with attentions. He came often——”
“It was you yourself who urged him to, so you told me.”
“Yes, that is true, because the Girauds had presumed to make remarks. Besides, could I ever have imagined? Perfidious Armide!—A woman who pinched and bit and scratched me on our wedding night, when I—you understand?”
“Well, my dear Bélan?”
“Well, the marquis finally almost lived at our house. He escorted my wife to the theatre, brought her home from parties and sang duets with her; he has a very fine voice, I admit. All that was agreeable to me, it was all right. Moreover, I said to myself: ‘My mother-in-law is with them.’ But, the day before yesterday, having returned home when I was not expected, I thought I would go to my wife’s room; she was locked into her boudoir with the marquis. What for? There is no piano in her boudoir. My friend, I remembered my bachelor adventures, all the husbands I have wronged; it was as if someone had struck me with a hammer. I ran to the boudoir and knocked like a deaf man; my wife admitted me and made a scene. The marquis seemed offended by my air of suspicion, and I concluded that I was mistaken. But it seems that when those infernal ideas once get into your head, they don’t leave it again very soon. I dreamed all night of Molière’sGeorge Dandin, andLe Cocu Imaginaire. Ah! my dear Blémont, jealousy is a terrible thing! You know nothing about it and you are very lucky! And to think that it struck me like a pistol shot!”
“My wife has taught me all the suffering that jealousy can cause, my dear Bélan, but go on.”
“Well, yesterday I was to dine out, and my wife was to dine with one of her aunts. I left the house. On the way I remembered my adventure with Madame Montdidier—you remember, before we were married?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“She also had said that she was going to dine with one of her aunts, and I was the aunt. Ah! my friend, I believe that it brings bad luck to have injured others so much. In short, it occurred to me to go home and watch my wife. I hurried back and went into a passageway opposite our door. That also reminded me of my bachelordays. After five minutes I saw Armide come out and get into a cab in a very alluring négligé. My mother-in-law was not with her, although she had told me that they were going together. I followed the cab, at the risk of breaking a blood-vessel. It took my wife to the new boulevards, which were in the opposite direction from her aunt’s house. It stopped before a restaurant celebrated for its fried fish and gudgeons. Armide went in; a few seconds later I did the same; I put five francs in the waiter’s hand and ordered him to tell me with whom that lady was dining. He drew the portrait so accurately of the gentleman who was waiting for her that I could not help recognizing the marquis. He pointed out to me the room where they were, at the end of the corridor, and I ran there like a madman. I found the key on the outside, I rushed in like a lunatic, and I found myself in the presence of an artilleryman, who was toying with a grisette from the twelfth arrondissement.
“The artilleryman was enraged at being disturbed; I could not find excuses enough; he blackguarded me, and while the damsel was readjusting her neckerchief, he rushed at me, seized me by the shoulder and pushed me out of the room, saying that he would see me again after dessert. You will understand that I had no desire to wait for the artilleryman. Finding myself in the corridor, where there were no other keys on the outside, I began to shout in a stentorian voice: ‘Armide, open the door!’ No one opened the door, and the waiter informed me that, during my controversy with the soldier, the lady had hastily left with her escort. But where had she gone? That was what no one could tell me. I returned home; I found no one there but my mother-in-law, who called me a visionary; and that night, at the first words that I said to my wife, she locked herself into her room and refusedto admit me. That is my situation, my friend; I dreamed again of George Dandin, and I hurried here this morning to tell you about it.”
Bélan ceased to speak. I was still tempted to laugh, but I restrained myself.
“In all this that you have told me,” I said to him, “there are presumptions, but no proofs.”
“Ah! for us fellows, my dear Blémont, who have had so many adventures, who know all about such things, they are quite as good as proofs.”
“The waiter may have been mistaken; perhaps it wasn’t the marquis; you didn’t see him, did you?”
“No, for they had gone, and I had no desire to wait for the artilleryman.”
“You did not act shrewdly.”
“That is true, I was a perfect donkey; I lost my head.”
“You must distrust appearances, my poor Bélan; I am better able than anybody to tell you that.”
“The deuce! do you mean that you have had suspicions about madame?”
“I? Oh no! never! but she had suspicions about me, and very ill-founded ones too, I promise you.”
“The deuce! suppose I was wrong! What do you advise me to do?”
“Wait, keep your eyes open, and watch, but with prudence; or else frankly ask your wife to explain her conduct yesterday; perhaps it was all very simple and innocent.”
“In fact, that is quite possible. The one thing that is certain is that I acted like a child. Dear Blémont, you calm my passions. After all, just because a young man comes often to one’s house, and is attentive to one’s wife, that doesn’t prove—for you yourself are not jealous of Monsieur Dulac, who is always at your house, and whooften acts as escort to your wife. My mother-in-law was talking about it only the other day to my wife.”
“Indeed! those ladies were talking about me, eh?”
“No, they were simply talking about Monsieur Dulac. Armide thinks that he is a very handsome man, but for my part, I see nothing extraordinary about him. Then they cited you as an example; they said: ‘There’s a husband who is not jealous; look at him! Monsieur Dulac is his wife’s regular escort, and he doesn’t seem to notice it; he is a husband who knows how to live.’ And then they laughed, because, you know, when the women begin to pass us in review, there’s no end to it.—Well, well! What are you thinking about, my dear fellow? You are not listening to me.”
“I beg your pardon; I was thinking that the world notices things, which we, who are most interested in them, often do not notice at all.”
“You advise me to wait, to watch, and to be prudent; I will do it. If I should acquire proofs—Oh! then I shall explode, I shall be terrible, inflexible. Adieu, my dear fellow, I will leave you, for I see that you are preoccupied. Au revoir.”
Bélan took his leave, and I bade him adieu with no desire to laugh. It was strange what an effect had been produced upon me by what he had told me of the comments of his wife and her mother. They noticed that Monsieur Dulac was an assiduous guest at my house and very attentive to my wife; and I myself had not noticed it. That was because I saw no harm in it, whereas the world is so evil-minded! And calumny is such a delicious weapon. Figaro was quite right: “Calumny, always calumny!”
Although I knew that it was mere malicious gossip, I involuntarily passed in review Monsieur Dulac’s conduct.I recalled his earnest desire to be received at my house after the ball from which he had escorted my wife home.
I became sad and pensive; I was conscious of a discomfort, a feeling of disquietude which I had never known before. I wondered if that was the way in which jealousy made itself felt. But what nonsense! What was I thinking about? It was that Bélan, who had upset me with his own conjugal misfortunes. That his wife deceived him was possible, yes, probable; she had never loved him; but my Eugénie, who used to love me so much, and who loved me still, I hoped—although jealousy had soured her disposition to some extent! But that very jealousy was a proof of love. And she had ceased to be jealous. Why? Ah! Bélan need not have reported those remarks to me! He did it from malice.
To banish such thoughts, I left my study. I heard the piano; my wife was in the salon, and the sight of her would cause me to forget all the nonsense that had been passing through my mind. I entered abruptly. Monsieur Dulac was there, seated near my wife,—in fact, very near, as it seemed to me. At that moment, I admit that his presence caused me a very unpleasant sensation.
Dulac rose hastily and came toward me.
“Good-afternoon, Monsieur Blémont. I have brought madame a lovely fantasia on a favorite air of Rossini’s. Madame plays it at sight with such assurance and such taste!”
“Oh! you always flatter me, Monsieur Dulac.”
“No, madame; on my honor, you are a remarkable musician.”
I walked about the salon several times; then I asked Eugénie:
“Why is not Henriette here?”
“Because she is playing in my room, I presume. Do you suppose, monsieur, that I can always attend to her? A girl who will soon be four years old can play alone.”
I sat down to listen to the music, but in five minutes my wife said that she was tired and left the piano. Monsieur Dulac talked a few minutes, then took his leave. My wife returned to her room, and I to my study, saying to myself that I must have seemed like a donkey to that man.
When I was alone I blushed at the suspicions that had passed through my head. In spite of that I became more constant in my attendance on my wife. I did not leave to others the duty of escorting her to parties; I went with her myself. But, as the time of her delivery drew near, Eugénie went about less. Balls were abandoned, receptions less frequented, and even music was somewhat neglected. At last the moment arrived, and I became the father of a boy.
Nothing can describe my joy, my intoxication; I had a boy! I myself ran about to announce it everywhere; and among my visits I did not forget Ernest and his wife, for I knew that they would share my delight. They embraced me and congratulated me; they adored their children, so that they understood my feeling.
My mother was my son’s godmother, with a distant kinsman of my wife. I gave him the name of Eugène and we put him out to nurse at Livry with the same peasant woman who had taken our daughter, and whose trade it was always to have a supply of milk.
Eugénie seemed pleased to have a son, although her joy was less expansive than mine. Our acquaintances came to see us; Monsieur Dulac was not one of the last. That young man seemed to share my pleasure so heartily that I was touched. I had totally forgotten the ideasthat had passed through my mind a few months before; I could not understand how I had been able to doubt my Eugénie’s fidelity for an instant.
Bélan also came to see me. He was satisfied now concerning his Armide’s virtue. She had demonstrated to him that she had arranged to meet the marquis on the new boulevards to go begging for the benefit of the poor; and her reason for doing it secretly was that her modesty would have suffered too much if people had known of all that she did for the relief of her fellow-creatures. Bélan had humbled himself before his charitable better half; he went about everywhere extolling his wife’s noble deeds; he was no longer afraid of being betrayed. So much the better for him. I congratulated him and bowed him out just when he seemed to be on the point of mentioning Monsieur Dulac again. I gave him to understand that I did not like evil tongues and that I should take it very ill of anybody who tried to disturb the peace of my household.
No, I certainly would not be jealous again. I blushed to think that I had been for a single instant. If Eugénie was no longer the same with me as in the first months of our wedded life, it was doubtless because we are not permitted to enjoy such happiness forever. Enjoyment, if it does not entirely extinguish love, certainly diminishes its piquancy; when one can gratify one’s desires as soon as they are formed, one does not form so many. And yet Ernest and Marguerite were still like lovers! To be sure, they were not married. Could it be that the idea that they could leave each other at any minute was the consideration that kept their love from growing old?
When she had entirely recovered her health, Eugénie’s taste for society revived; she paid little attention to herdaughter, and that distressed me. For our Henriette was fascinating. I passed hours talking with her, and those hours passed much more rapidly than those which I was obliged to spend at evening parties.
I suggested going to see my son at Livry. My wife declared that he was too small, that we must wait until his features had become more formed. But I did not choose to wait any longer; I longed to embrace my little Eugène, so I hired a horse one morning, and went to the nurse’s house.
My son seemed to me a fascinating little fellow; I recognized his mother’s features in his. I embraced him, but I sighed; something was lacking to my happiness. I felt that it was wrong of Eugénie not to have desired to embrace her son.
The nurse asked me if my wife was sick. The good people thought that she must be sick because she had failed to accompany me.
“Yes, she is not feeling very well,” I said to the nurse.
“Oh well! as soon as she’s all right again, I’m sure that madame will want to come too.”
“Yes, we will come together the next time.”
I passed several hours beside my son’s cradle. As I drove back to Paris, I indulged in reflections which were not cheerful. In vain did I try to excuse Eugénie, I felt that her conduct was not what it should be, and it distressed me to feel that she was in the wrong.
I reached home at six o’clock. Madame was not there; she had gone to dine with Madame Dorcelles. She was one of her school friends whom she had met again in society; one of those dissipated, coquettish women, who consider it perfectly natural to see their husbands only by chance, when they dine with him. I did not like that woman, and I had told Eugénie so and had requested hernot to see too much of her; and she went to dine at her house!
She had not taken her daughter. My little Henriette ran out to embrace me, with outstretched arms! How could Eugénie take any pleasure, away from her daughter? I could not understand it.
“Didn’t your mamma take you?” I asked the child, taking her on my knee.
“No, papa.”
“Did you cry when she went away?”
“Yes, papa, I cried.”
“Poor child! you cried, and your mother left you behind!”
“But mamma told me that if I was very good she would bring me a cake; so then I stopped crying.”
“Did anybody come to see your mamma to-day?”
“Yes, you know, that gentleman who plays music with mamma, and who gives me sweeties.”
“Monsieur Dulac?”
“Yes.”
“And did you stay with your mamma while she was playing music?”
“No, because mamma said that I was making too much noise; she sent me to play in the hall with my doll.”
I felt a weight at my heart; and for a long time I was silent. Evidently my little Henriette divined that I was unhappy, for she looked timidly at me and said nothing. I kissed her lovingly, and then she smiled again.
Where could Eugénie be? That Madame Dorcelles did not receive that evening; at least, I thought that it was not her day. At all events, I did not choose to go to her house; I suspected that woman of giving Eugénie very bad advice, and I might let my ill humor appear. It was much better not to go there.
But why should I always hold myself in check? Why should I not tell my wife frankly what my feelings were? In order to have peace, to avoid quarrels. But in order to have peace, should a man let his wife make a fool of herself and do rash things, if nothing worse? No, I determined to tell Eugénie all that I had on my mind.
Perhaps those ladies had gone to the play. I went out, after kissing Henriette again and handing her over to her nurse. Where should I go? At what theatre should I look for them? I went into the Variétés, the Gymnase, and the Porte-Saint-Martin. And I remembered that I had met Eugénie there on the day following Giraud’s ball, at which I saw her for the first time. My eyes turned toward the box in which she sat that evening. Ah! how glad I would have been to go back to that time! How madly in love I was! I still loved her as dearly! but she——
The time passes quickly when one is engrossed by souvenirs of the past. The play came to an end unnoticed by me. I was aroused from my reflections by seeing that everybody had gone; whereupon I understood that I must do likewise. I returned home. As I approached the house, I saw a gentleman and lady standing at the door, and I thought that I recognized my wife. I stepped behind one of the trees on the boulevard, where I could see them better. Yes, it was my wife and Monsieur Dulac. He had brought her home. But they talked together a very long time! He took her hand and did not release it. Why did he hold her hand like that? When a man holds a woman’s hand so long, it means that he is making love to her. I remembered very clearly that that was what I used to do; and that I used to bestow a loving pressure upon the hand that I held in mine. He was pressing my wife’s hand, no doubt, and she did notwithdraw it! That idea maddened me, I could no longer restrain myself, and I walked rapidly toward them. They dropped each other’s hands; Dulac bowed ceremoniously, then exclaimed:
“Ah! here is Monsieur Blémont! I have brought madame home; she deigned to accept my arm. Good-night, madame; pray receive my respects.”
He bowed and walked away; I do not know whether I made any answer to him. I pushed my wife into the house and we went upstairs without exchanging a word. When we reached our apartment, madame entered her bedroom, and I followed her. I paced the floor a long while without speaking. I wanted to see whether she would ask me about my son, for she must have guessed that I had been to Livry. But she did not say a word; she simply began to arrange her hair in curl papers.
I could stand it no longer. I went to her and said:
“Where have you been to-day, madame?”
“Why, wherever I chose, monsieur. I believe that I am not in the habit of asking you where you go!”
“That is no argument, madame, and I have the right to ask you for an account of your actions.”
“Oho! a right! I had that right too, but when I undertook to exert it, it did not succeed!”
“I don’t know what you mean, madame. However, you do not answer my question.”
“I have been to dine with Madame Dorcelles; there was no mystery about it; I told the nurse, and I thought that you would call there for me.”
“You could not think that I would go to the house of a woman whom I do not like; and you must have known too that you would not please me by dining with this Madame Dorcelles, who has the reputation of being a flirt and not a respectable mother of a family.”
“Reputation! Was it Madame Ernest who told you that Laure was a flirt?”
“Madame Ernest never speaks ill of anyone.”
“She has her reasons for that.”
“For heaven’s sake, let us drop Madame Ernest, whom I almost never see.”
“Oh! that is a matter of indifference to me now.”
“I can well believe it; you have other things to occupy your mind.”
“What do you mean by that, monsieur?”
“If you should find me escorting a woman home as I just now found you with Monsieur Dulac, I should like to know what you would say?”
“Mon Dieu! do you mean to say that you are jealous, you, monsieur, who considered it so absurd that I should be?”
“Without being jealous, madame, I may look to it that you do not expose yourself to malicious gossip.”
“Oh! I am obliged to you, monsieur, but I am old enough to know how to behave.”
“You are becoming most peculiar, Eugénie; I don’t know whose advice you are following, but I cannot believe that you act thus of your own accord; I doubt, however, whether this new method of treating me will make either of us happy. Upon my word, I do not recognize you.”
“I have said that of you for a very long time, monsieur!”
“I can understand your not being the same to me; but with your children! Why, you have not asked me anything about our son!”
“Could I guess that you had been to see him?”
“You leave little Henriette here, you abandon her to the care of a maid!”
“As if one could always drag a child about, when one goes into society!”
“Drag about!Ah! I prefer to believe, madame, that that word does not come from you; it was probably Madame Dorcelles who taught it to you, in speaking of her own children!”
“It is doubtless because Laure is one of my school friends that you do not like her, and that you say unkind things about her; but I warn you, monsieur, that that will not prevent me from seeing her and from going to her house whenever I please.”
“But if I should forbid you?”
“That would be an additional reason for me to do it.”
“Magnificent, madame! Go your own way and I will go mine.”
“Go where you please, it is all one to me!”
I made the circuit of the room once more, then left madame, who continued to adjust her curl papers.
Six months had passed, during which I had sought enjoyment apart from my wife. At first that course of proceeding was the result of our quarrel on the evening when I returned from Livry; afterward, spite and self-esteem took a hand. One is never willing to take the first step, especially when one has no reason for self-reproach. And yet that mode of life was very far from being pleasant to me; it was not at all in accordance with my tastes. The idea of being obliged to seek happiness away from myEugénie and my family, I, who still loved my wife and adored my children! But to think of Eugénie behaving in that way! I wondered if she enjoyed going nowhere with me? Every day I hoped that she would come to me in my study and throw herself into my arms; but I hoped in vain. Then I had paroxysms of anger, of vexation; I swore that I would think no more of her, and I returned home still thinking of her.
She could not say that I annoyed her in any way, that I prevented her from doing as she pleased. I was determined to deprive her of every cause of complaint. Often I had no idea where she went; but I could not believe that Eugénie would ever forget what she owed to herself, or would fail in her duty; if she did, then she would deserve my contempt and not my love. Thus it is that a person is always foolish to be jealous; for either the jealousy is unfounded, or the suspected person does not deserve that one should worry about him.
Despite this reasoning, which I indulged in when I was calm, I confess that I sometimes thought of Monsieur Dulac. That evening when he held Eugénie’s hand in his had not vanished from my thoughts. But there are so many young men who pay court to all the ladies, as a matter of habit, without anything coming of it! I believed that he was one of them. I seemed to remember that when I was a bachelor, I could not see a pretty woman without trying to make love to her. However, Monsieur Dulac came much less often to my house. I did not know whether he continued to escort Eugénie home, for I was not there.
Ernest and his little Marguerite had gone to pass the summer in the country, in a solitary region where they saw no one but each other and their children; but they were never bored together; how I envied their happiness!I avoided Bélan, for he annoyed me; one day he believed that he was betrayed, the next day he was certain of his wife’s loyalty. I could not understand how a man could remain in that condition; if I had had the one-hundredth part of his reasons for being jealous, I would long ago have found out the truth of the matter.
Nor did I enjoy meeting the Girauds; the sight of them reminded me of too many epochs of my life. Giraud never saw me without finding a way to insinuate a complimentary remark about my wedding, and the magnificence of the supper during the ball. It vexed me to hear that day mentioned; moreover, it seemed to me that there was a touch of malice, of mockery, in their manner of congratulating me on my good fortune. Perhaps I saw things in the wrong light.
In general, society afforded me little amusement. I went about to forget myself, but I enjoyed the theatre much more; there a man may do what he pleases: he may listen or think. Sometimes I took my little Henriette there; she seemed already to understand the plays, and I was so happy when I had my daughter by my side! I had also been to Livry again, to see my son; but he was not yet old enough to understand me and to answer me as his sister did.
I went occasionally to my mother’s. I had never mentioned my domestic troubles to her; what would be the use? One should keep such things to himself as much as possible. My mother would have told me that I was old enough to know how to manage my wife and my household. I did not want her to make the slightest remonstrance to her daughter-in-law. For I knew that a mother-in-law’s advice is very rarely listened to. It was much better therefore to say nothing, and that is what I did.
Winter had come again, and with it balls and receptions. Eugénie determined to set apart one day in the week to receive our numerous acquaintances. I allowed her to invite whom she chose. There were moments when I thought that she was touched by my readiness to satisfy all her wishes; I saw that she was sometimes sad and pensive and preoccupied; but I saw no sign of coming back to me, although she was more free and gentle with me; on the contrary, she seemed to avoid me more, and to dread any manifestations of affection on my part. I wondered what could be taking place in her heart.
Dulac came to our house very often. That young man had become a terrible bore to me. He seemed to be always there, between Eugénie and me. But how could I forbid him the house? He was exceedingly polite to me and most obliging to my wife. Everybody liked him; I alone did not agree with the rest of the world.
Madame Dorcelles came to our house sometimes, but I could not see that my wife saw her any more frequently; on the contrary, I was inclined to think that she saw less of her and I was very grateful to her. Madame Dorcelles attempted to play the coquette with me; she called me a savage, a misanthrope; I allowed her to call me what she chose, and paid no attention to her ogling and her fascinations. I could not help thinking that my wife had in her a most peculiar friend.
I determined to make an effort to accompany my wife into society. It vexed me that that Dulac should almost always be her escort.
Eugénie seemed surprised by my new course of action, but she said nothing. I could not make up my mind whether it pleased her, but I fancied that I detected an exchange of glances between her and Monsieur Dulac.Ah! if I had been sure of it! I fumed and raged anew; but I very soon came to myself, and told myself that I was a fool.
There was some talk of a magic lantern exhibition at the house of a lady friend of ours who had a very fine one; she thought that it would amuse the children and perhaps the grown people as well; so an evening was chosen for that purpose.
I escorted my wife; she was depressed, or rather, sullen; we took Henriette, who was overjoyed at the prospect, and I was glad for her.
We found among the company the Bélans, the Girauds, and the inevitable Dulac. That man seemed to pursue me everywhere! It seemed to me that he must always disturb by his presence the pleasure to which I looked forward. I began to detest him.
After remaining some time in the salon, we were requested to step into the dining-room where the magic lantern was prepared. The company passed into that room, where there was almost no light, because darkness is necessary for the better exhibition of the lantern.
The ladies were seated, the men remained standing. We all laughed in anticipation of what we were about to see. Some of the gentlemen imitated Polichinello, or the devil; they favored us with a performance before the curtain rose. The darkness that reigned in the room seemed to increase the merriment of many people.
Giraud, who was beside me, whispered in my ear:
“The scenes of the lantern won’t be the most amusing ones. Look, there is Madame Bélan with monsieur le marquis over in the corner. It is very amusing. Poor Bélan! but he has just the face for that.”
Such jests no longer made me laugh. I looked about for my wife; I was confident that Monsieur Dulac hadnot left the salon, where he was playing écarté, and I was reassured.
The performance began. More people had arrived and we were so crowded that we could not move.
They showed us the sun and the moon, Pierrot and the devil, Cupid and the wild man. The gentleman who explained the pictures made endless speeches. The children shrieked for joy, and the ladies laughed heartily. To me it seemed very long and tedious; I could not stir from my place to go to my wife, and it was darker than ever.
Suddenly, in the very midst of his explanation, the gentleman pushed the lantern too far, so that it fell from the table to the floor; the lights were at once uncovered and the room was suddenly illuminated.
I instantly turned my eyes toward my wife. Monsieur Dulac was seated behind her, but one of her arms was hanging over her chair and her hand was in her neighbor’s.
I started up so suddenly to go to Eugénie that I trod upon Giraud’s feet, he was so close to me. He uttered a piercing shriek and declared that I had hurt him. I did not think of apologizing; I forced a passage to my wife’s side; her arm was no longer over the back of her chair and Monsieur Dulac was farther away.
I do not know how I looked at them, but Eugénie seemed perturbed and Monsieur Dulac’s face wore a most embarrassed expression.
“Take your shawl,” I said abruptly to my wife; “call your daughter and let us go.”
“Why are we going so soon?” asked Eugénie, looking at me in surprise.
“Because I wish it, madame. Come, no comments, but make haste.”
The tone in which I said this was so new to Eugénie’s ears that she rose at once to obey; moreover, people might have heard me speaking to her in that tone and I fancy that she did not desire that.
She was ready in a moment; I took my daughter’s hand, and we prepared to go.
“Are you going already?” asked the mistress of the house. “Why, it isn’t all over, he is going to mend the lantern.”
“We cannot stay any longer,” I said, curtly enough.
“I do not feel very well,” murmured Eugénie; “we must go.”
I did not say a word to my wife on the way home, for our daughter was with us. Poor child! I had deprived her of a part of the pleasure which she had anticipated, but she dared not complain.
When we were at home and her daughter was in bed, Eugénie said to me in a bitter tone:
“May I know why you dragged me away so abruptly from the party where we were?”
“May I know, madame, why your hand was in Monsieur Dulac’s, while the room was dark?”
“My hand in Monsieur Dulac’s? You dreamed it!”
“No, madame, I did not dream it; I saw it, and saw it very distinctly.”
“I do not know but that Monsieur Dulac did take my hand, by accident or in jest. I certainly did not notice it! So that was why you rushed up like a madman, and spoke to me in a threatening tone, as if you were going to strike me; that is why you drew everybody’s eyes upon me, is it? No one accustomed to society was ever before known to behave as you did!”
“Madame, when I consider myself insulted, I pay little heed to society. There was a time when you thoughtand acted in the same way. I do not know what sort of jesting Monsieur Dulac presumes to indulge in with you, but I warn you that I don’t like it. I request you not to allow it any more.”
“You expect me to mention your idiotic ideas to that young man? I will do nothing of the kind! It is perfectly absurd.”
“Very well; whenever it suits me, I shall not hesitate to turn the fellow out of doors.”
“I advise you to do it! The idea of turning that young man out of doors because he is pleasant and agreeable and attentive to me! You only lack that, to give you a most excellent reputation in society!”
“Be careful, madame, that you do not give me a reputation which I should like still less.”
“It seems to me that it is hardly worth while to go with me in order to indulge in such scenes. Formerly you went your way, monsieur, and I went mine.”
“I shall go with you whenever it suits me, madame. I am well aware that it will be a terrible nuisance to you, and I am very sorry; but you will go nowhere without me if I choose that you shall not.”
“Oho! we will see about that!”
I went to my room. I did not sleep that night, I constantly saw that young man with my wife. And yet what Eugénie had told me was probable enough and might be true. But a thousand circumstances, which I remembered now, revived my suspicions when I tried to banish them.
Suppose that she were deceiving me! At that thought, a shudder ran through my whole being, and, since the evening before, I bore a heavy weight which oppressed and suffocated me.
Such torture! I was determined to know, to make sure whether I was betrayed.
But to make sure was no easy matter; women are so cunning in taking precautions! Not always, however; they who are not accustomed to intrigues sometimes allow themselves to be detected. So I was jealous at last! a jealous husband! I who had so often laughed at the type, and who had deceived so many! My turn had come! And if I were—ah! I did not know what I should do! Formerly I used to laugh about it, it all seemed so simple and so natural to me! We never put ourselves in the places of those at whom we laugh. To be sure, there are some who take the thing so indifferently, others who joke about it. Husbands of the latter class have ceased to love their wives. But the wisest, the most sensible, do not try to make sure. On the contrary, they carefully avoid everything that might disturb their peace of mind by opening their eyes. Ah! those who act thus are very wise; why should I not do as they did?