Gustave did not fail to take advantage of the permission Fanny had accorded him. Two days after the party at which they had met, he called upon the young widow, who greeted him thus:
"I began to think that you were off on your travels again, and that we shouldn't see you for another six months."
"Oh! I have no desire to travel now; I am too happy in Paris; especially if you allow me to come to see you."
"What good does it do for me to allow it, when you don't come? I expected you the day before yesterday, I expected you yesterday."
"I was afraid of being presumptuous if I took advantage too soon of the permission you gave me."
"I thought that you wouldn't stand on ceremony, and that we should be on the same terms together as before my marriage to Monsieur Monléard."
These words were accompanied by such a soft glance that Gustave no longer doubted that he was loved. He took Fanny's hand and covered it with kisses; she did not resist, and her hand responded tenderly to the pressure of his. Any other than Gustave would probably have carried further his desires and his acts, but he had long been accustomed to look upon Fanny as the woman whom he wished to make his wife; and in his love therewas a sort of respect which her widow's dress could not fail to intensify.
So Gustave confined himself to repeating that he had never ceased to be enamored of her whom he had hoped to call his wife, and that he would be very, very happy if his hopes could be gratified at last. For her part, Fanny gave him to understand that while she might once have been ambitious and fickle, those failings should be charged to her age and consequent giddiness, and that, in reality, her heart had never been in agreement with her vanity.
Then the young widow, by a natural transition, adroitly led Gustave on to speak of his position and prospects. He was assured of ten thousand francs a year if he remained in his uncle's banking-house; he could hope for more in the future; to be sure, Monsieur Grandcourt would not be pleased to have his nephew marry, but he would place no obstacle in the way of the execution of his project. They would not live in the banker's house, but would take pleasant apartments not far from his offices; they would keep no carriage; he would take his wife to the theatre very often, and to the country; he would not give her diamonds, but she should have handsome dresses, and, as she was charming in herself, she would always be the loveliest of women, even if she were not covered with jewels.
In such conversation as this, forming the most attractive plans for the future, the hours which Gustave passed at Fanny's side seemed very short. Being entirely at liberty to see his love at her own home, he went much less to Monsieur Gerbault's. As for Adolphine, she did not go to her sister's at all; for she knew that she would meet Gustave there, and she avoided his presence as much as possible.
Two months passed thus, during which time Cherami saw very little of Gustave, who spent with Fanny all the time that he could spare from his business.
But one morning, just as our lover was starting to call on his enslaver, Cherami caught him on the wing.
"Par la sambleu! my dear Gustave, is there no way of having a word with you? Have you nothing to say to your friend? Or am I no longer your friend? One would say that you avoided me!"
"No, no, my dear Arthur, far from it; it always gives me great pleasure to see you; but you are well aware that I am in love, more in love than ever, and that I pass with Fanny all the time I can steal from my duties."
"Very good! and tell me about this love of yours; sapristi! are you satisfied? Does it go as you want it to this time? Tell me that much, at least."
"Ah! my friend, I am the happiest of men! Fanny loves me; I can't possibly doubt it now. As soon as her mourning is at an end, we are to be married; we are already making our plans, our projects for the future; next month, as it will be almost ten months then, we shall begin to look about for apartments, which I shall have furnished and decorated in advance. I intend that Fanny shall find them fascinating."
"Well, I see that everything is going all right. The little woman is yours this time—and you think so much of her!—And her sister, the good Adolphine—do you still see her?"
"I have seen very little of her lately; she never comes to her sister's, and that surprises me; twice I have tried to talk with Adolphine, to tell her that my marriage to Fanny was settled; but I couldn't find her, she had gone out;for I can't believe that she would have refused to see me—her brother."
"In all this excitement, you haven't thought about a place for me, I suppose?"
"Pardon me, I did mention it to my uncle. He doesn't seem to believe that you are serious in your desire for employment."
"Ah! pardieu, if your uncle has got to have a hand in it, I am very certain that I shall never get a place!"
"Never fear; I will attend to it myself, but there's no hurry. Are you in need of money? Tell me."
"Why, no, I am not in need of money. Do you suppose that I have already gone through the thousand francs you loaned me?"
"But that was more than two months ago, and——"
"True, and formerly I should have seen the last of it in a week; I should have made only seven mouthfuls of it. But to-day it's different! I told you that I had reformed. I have discovered, just at the beginning of Boulevard du Temple, a soup dealer who supplies dinners; and delicious dinners, too, on my word of honor! you don't have a great variety of dishes, to be sure; but everything is good. Excellent roast beef; you would fancy you were in London; and you can dine abundantly for eighteen sous. Eighteen sous! I used to give more than that to the waiter."
"My friend, you shouldn't go to extremes in anything; it seems to me that you are carrying your reformation too far."
"I am very well pleased; I believe that I shall end by living on my five hundred and fifty francs a year; when that time comes, I propose to parade the streets between two clarionets, to exhibit myself."
"After I am married, I will find you a suitable place."
"Make haste and marry, then, that I may have my cue. By the way, I venture to believe that it won't come off without notice to me? I don't ask to be invited to the wedding; that would be presumptuous; but I desire, at least, to salute the bridal couple when they leave the church."
"And I propose that you shall be of the wedding party. We shall not give a ball,—her widowhood is too recent,—but a handsome banquet, and I hope that, on that day, you will forget your reformation. But, adieu! I am late, she is expecting me. You will hear from me soon."
"A mighty good fellow!" said Cherami to himself, as Gustave hurried away; "he deserves to be happy! But will he be, with his Fanny? Hum! I'm none too sure of it. For my part, I should prefer the other; but as he's in love with this one—to be sure, she's a very pretty woman, but I, old fox that I am, I wouldn't trust her!—Sapristi! what do I see? My two little pearls, Laurette and Lucie, and I have money in my pocket! But, no; by Saint Anthony, I will not yield to the temptation! Let's be off before they see me."
Laurette and Lucie were, in fact, coming toward Cherami, both dressed with much coquetry and looking very attractive; but he, after heaving a profound sigh, retreated with so much precipitation, that he ran into the door of an omnibus, which had stopped for a lady; and, being urged by the conductor, he concluded to enter also.
Several weeks passed. It was a Thursday; and Fanny, who had not been at her father's for a long time, said to Gustave when she saw him during the day:
"I must go to dine with father to-day, my dear; I trust that you will come there this evening?"
"As you will be there, you may be certain that I will come. By the way, I saw that there was an apartment to rent in a nice house on Rue Fontaine. Do you like that quarter?"
"Very much."
"Very well; I will go some time to-day to look at it, and if it seems to me to be suitable I will tell you this evening, so that you can go to see it. For ten months have passed; the time is not very far away when I shall be able to call you my wife! so it is none too soon for me to see about getting an apartment ready."
"Do so, my dear; you can tell me to-night if you have found what we want."
About five o'clock, the widow went to her father's. Monsieur Gerbault always welcomed his daughter kindly, and Adolphine did her utmost to smile on her sister.
"So you're really going to marry Gustave this time, are you?" said Monsieur Gerbault.
"Why shouldn't I, father? Do you think I shall be doing wrong?"
"No—but I regret that you didn't marry him a year ago."
"Why, father, it seems to me that I acted very wisely! Gustave had only a very modest salary then. Monsieur Monléard offered me a fortune, and I could not hesitate; the sequel didn't come up to my hopes; but certainly no one could have foreseen that."
"But you are very lucky to fall in with a man who still loves you after you have once cast him off."
"Mon Dieu! father, if Gustave had not loved me, some other man would have turned up—that's all there is to that."
"Possibly; at all events, I see that you have an answer for everything."
Adolphine listened to her sister with an air of amazement, but she did not venture to make a single reflection; she kept to herself the thoughts which Fanny's remarks inspired; and she avoided, so far as she possibly could, any conversation with her on the subject of her approaching marriage to Gustave.
The evening brought to Monsieur Gerbault's salon his faithful whist players, and Gustave, who shook hands warmly with the man whom he already looked upon as his father-in-law, and affectionately with Adolphine. She, by an involuntary movement, withdrew her hand at first; but the next moment she forced herself to smile, and offered her hand to Gustave, saying:
"I beg your pardon. I thought you were Monsieur de Raincy."
"And she absolutely refuses to give her hand to him," said Fanny, with a laugh, "although he offers his name in exchange for it. Don't you think, Gustave, that she makes a great mistake in refusing that young man?"
"Why so, if she doesn't love him?"
"As if people married for love!"
Realizing that she had said something which might distress Gustave, the young woman hastily added:
"When a woman has never been married, she ought to be reasonable; with a widow, it's different; she can afford to obey the dictates of her heart."
These words speedily restored the serenity of Gustave's brow, which had become a little clouded. A moment later, Monsieur Batonnin arrived, and, having saluted the company, said, with a radiant expression:
"I have just met someone, whom you will probably see this evening, for when I said: 'I am going to pass the evening at Monsieur Gerbault's,' he exclaimed: 'Oh! I mean to go there, too, if only for a moment.'"
"Who is it?" queried Monsieur Gerbault.
"Someone who is very agreeable—just back from Italy. What! can't you guess? Monsieur le Comte de la Bérinière."
"Ah! the dear count! Has he returned?"
"Only yesterday. He instantly asked me for all the news. When I told him that Madame Monléard was a widow, he was tremendously surprised; he couldn't get over it."
"Mon Dieu! how stupid that man is!" muttered Gustave, glancing at Fanny.
Since the announcement of the Comte de la Bérinière's return, she seemed disturbed and preoccupied. In a few moments, she left her seat between her sister and Gustave, went to the window for a moment, as if to get a breath of air, and then, instead of returning to her former seat, sat down near the whist table.
Adolphine followed her sister with her eyes, and did not lose a single one of her movements. Meanwhile, Gustave, seeing Fanny seat herself at a distance, drew nearer to Adolphine, and said:
"Your sister, I see, wishes me to tell you of our delightful plans for the future; for I have had no chance to talk with you lately, dear Adolphine; I have been here several times, but have failed to find you."
"Yes, I know it."
"I think that you are not indifferent to what interests me, that you take pleasure in my happiness. You saw me when I was so unhappy! I am sure that you want to see me happy now."
"Yes, of course I do. A love like yours well deserves to be reciprocated."
Gustave began to lay before Adolphine all the plans he had formed for the future, when he should be her brother-in-law. Adolphine listened with only half an ear; she seemed much more interested in watching her sister, who pretended to take a deep interest in the game of whist; but soon the arrival of the Comte de la Bérinière caused a general movement. Everyone congratulated the traveller on the happy influence which the climate of Italy seemed to have had on his health.
"Yes, I am very well indeed," said the count, who, after bowing coldly to Adolphine, eagerly approached her sister. "Italy's a very beautiful country, but it isn't equal to France, especially Paris! I tell you, there is nothing like our Parisian women; and what I look at first of all, in any country, is the women."
"Still, you have stayed away a long while, monsieur le comte," said the widow, motioning to Monsieur de la Bérinière to take a seat by her side, the gesture being accompanied by her most charming smile.
The count hastened to obey; and said to her, almost in a whisper:
"I have, in truth, been absent more than a year; and, meanwhile, certain things have happened which it was impossible to foresee. Permit me to offer you my condolence on your widowhood."
"Yes, I am a widow, I have become free again; it is more than ten months since it happened. Truly, it could hardly have been anticipated! You must find me greatly changed, do you not? I have grown old and thin—and then, this costume is so dismal!"
"In other words, you are still captivating; indeed, if such a thing were possible, I should say that you are even lovelier than you were. As for your dress—what does that matter? You adorn whatever you wear."
"Oh! monsieur le comte, you flatter me; you don't mean what you say."
"Do I not? I mean it and feel it; you are an enchantress!"
"Italy is where you must have seen the pretty women!"
"Yes, there are many of them there; but I say again, they can't hold a candle to Parisian women in general, and to you in particular."
"Oh! hush! Are you no longer in love with my sister?"
"Your sister? Faith! no; she refused my hand; I bear her no ill-will for it; for, frankly, I am very glad of it now."
"Why so, pray?"
"Oh! I can't tell you here."
"Very well! then you must come to see me, and tell me."
"Do you give me leave to come to pay my respects to you?"
"More than that, I count upon it."
"You are adorable."
It seemed to Gustave that Fanny's conversation with the count was unconscionably long. He could not see all the coquettish little grimaces with which the widow accompanied her words, because she had taken pains to turn her chair so that she was not facing the man she was to marry; but he thought it very strange that Fanny could pass so long a time without thinking of him, without wanting him near her. The young man walked through the salon, gazing at the young widow, and sometimes stopping beside her. She did not appear to pay the slightest heed to him.
Being unable longer to control his impatience, he decided to interrupt their conversation, and said aloud to Fanny:
"My dear Fanny, I went to-day to see that apartment on Rue Fontaine—you know—that I spoke to you about this morning?"
The widow was perceptibly annoyed. However, she replied, with a surprised air:
"What! what apartment? I don't remember. Oh! yes, yes, I know what you mean."
"Well, the apartment is very well arranged and very attractive. I am confident that you will like it; but you must look at it immediately, for the chances are that it will be let very soon."
"Very well, very well; I will go to look at it.—Oh! Monsieur de la Bérinière, you went to Naples, didn't you? Did you see Vesuvius vomit flame? That is something I am very curious to see. Do tell me what a volcano is like?"
Gustave walked away, far from satisfied. It seemed to him that his future spouse was too deeply interested in Italy. He returned to Adolphine, lost in thought, andsat down beside her. She said nothing, but she looked at him and read his thoughts.
Monsieur Gerbault succeeded at last in talking with the count. Whereupon Gustave returned to Fanny, and said to her:
"Aren't we going? You said that you should go home early."
But the little widow, who did not choose to have the count see her go away with Gustave, replied:
"It's too early; my father would be angry if I should go now."
"But you said——"
"Mon Dieu! you seem to be in a great hurry to go!"
Gustave bit his lips and said no more. Monsieur Batonnin joined him, and said with a smile:
"You don't seem to be doing anything, Monsieur Gustave. Don't you play cards?"
"I don't care for cards, monsieur."
"You prefer to talk with the ladies—I can understand that. You have been travelling, too; and the ladies like to hear about travels. Have you seen any volcanoes?"
"No, monsieur."
And Gustave turned his back on Batonnin, who smiled at his own reflection in a mirror.
The count soon took his hat, and was about to withdraw, without a word, as the custom is in society; but Fanny, who had kept her eyes on him, found an excuse for standing in his path, and said to him in an undertone:
"I shall expect you to-morrow."
Monsieur de la Bérinière replied by a graceful inclination, and disappeared.
A few moments later, Fanny said to Gustave:
"Well, monsieur; if you want to go, I am at your service."
"I am at yours, rather, madame."
"Let us go."
Adolphine went up to Gustave of her own motion, and pressed his hand affectionately.
In the street, the young man began:
"Monsieur de la Bérinière's conversation evidently interested you very much? You talked with nobody but him; you left your sister and me, and forgot all about us."
"Why, I enjoyed listening to what he told me about Italy. He is very pleasant, and amusing to listen to. I didn't suppose that you would see any harm in that."
"I see no harm in the conversation; but I am horribly bored when you talk to anybody else for long. I am sorry that you don't feel the same way."
"Oh! what childishness! As if I were not always there!—How my head does ache! I shall have a sick headache to-morrow, I am sure."
"You will go to look at that apartment, won't you?"
"Yes, if my head doesn't ache; but if it does, I certainly shall not stir from my bed."
They arrived at Fanny's door, and the future husband and wife parted much more coldly than usual.
The next morning, the young widow gave these orders to her servant:
"If Monsieur le Comte de la Bérinière calls, you will admit him at once. If Monsieur Gustave comes, you will tell him that I have a sick headache, that I am asleep; and you will not let him in on any pretext. Do you understand?"
"Yes, madame."
Fanny took the greatest pains with her hair, her dress, and every part of her toilet; she omitted nothing that was adapted to captivate, to dazzle, to seduce.
At one o'clock, Monsieur de la Bérinière was ushered into the pretty creature's boudoir, where she awaited him, seated in a graceful attitude on a sofa, and motioned him to a seat by her side.
"You see, fair lady, that I take advantage of the permission accorded me," said the count, gallantly kissing Fanny's little hand.
"It was presumptuous in me, perhaps, to tell you that I expected you; but I wanted to talk with you, and one has little chance to talk in society."
"You give me the most delicious pleasure—a tête-à-tête with you! It is a priceless favor to me. It is very true that in society it is difficult to say—all that one thinks; and last night, at your father's, there was a young man who seemed to be vexed at our conversation."
"Oh! Gustave.—He's an old play-fellow of mine."
"An old play-fellow? Isn't he something more than that?"
"What! what do you mean?"
"Stay, charming widow, I will explain my meaning without beating about the bush. Yesterday, when he told me that you were a widow, Monsieur Batonnin told me also that you were to marry again very soon."
"Mon Dieu! what a chatterbox that Monsieur Batonnin is! what business is it of his?"
"It is quite possible that he's a chatterbox; but, tell me, is it the truth? Are you going to marry Monsieur Gustave, your old play-fellow?"
"Yes, it is true that there has been some talk of marriage between us; but it's a long way from that to an actual marriage."
"Really—you are not actually engaged to him?"
"Engaged? Not by any means!"
"But—that apartment that he spoke about last night, that he asked you to go to look at?"
"Why, it's an apartment that he is thinking of renting for himself, and he wants my advice as to the arrangement of the rooms; because a woman understands such things better than a man, don't you see? But now it's your turn, monsieur le comte, to tell me why you are so anxious to know whether my hand is at my disposition."
"Why, charming creature! can't you guess why? Don't you remember what I said to you one day, at your own house, soon after your marriage? I said: 'Monléard has been smarter than I, he has got ahead of me; for, if it had not been for him, I would have asked you to be Comtesse de la Bérinière.'—Very good; what I could not do then, I should be very happy to do to-day. Now, you see, I don't propose to lose any time and let some other man get ahead of me; I go straight to the point. If you are not engaged, I offer you my name and my fortune; I will transform you into a fascinating countess."
"Oh! monsieur le comte, can I believe you? do you really mean what you say? I most certainly am not engaged—but my sister—you loved her?"
"I thought of your sister for a moment, solely with a view of entering your family. You cannot fear to make her unhappy by accepting my hand, since she refused it."
"True, the little fool! I wouldn't have refused it, I can tell you!"
"Very well; then you accept now—you consent to become a countess? Give me your hand, as a token of your consent."
Fanny pretended to be embarrassed, and lowered her eyes; but she gave her hand to the count, who threw himself at her feet, crying:
"I am the happiest of men!"
During this interview, Gustave had called and asked for Fanny; but the maid said to him:
"It is impossible for you to see her, monsieur; she has a sick headache; she is asleep, and told me not to wake her."
"And her order applies to me too?"
"Oh! yes, monsieur; you cannot see madame; her headache's very bad."
Gustave returned to his office sadly out of temper. He was surprised that for a headache Fanny should refuse to see him; he said to himself that, if he were ill, the presence of his loved one could not fail to do him good and cure him at once. Then, in spite of himself, he recalled Fanny's conduct at her father's, her evident pleasure in conversing with Monsieur de la Bérinière, while she barely listened to what he, Gustave, said to her. All this distressed and worried him. He could not be jealous of the count, who was sixty years old, but he was displeased with Fanny; and while he soughtexcuses for her, saying to himself that a young woman was not debarred from being a little coquettish, from liking to cut a figure in society, he feared, nevertheless, that she was not capable of loving as he loved.
We often hear of presentiments; but, in most cases, these presentiments are simply the assembling of our memories so as to form a new light, which enlightens our minds, destroys our illusions, undeceives our hearts. With the aid of this new light, we foresee the treachery that lies in wait for us, and we say: "I had a presentiment of it."
Gustave returned to Fanny's that evening; it was natural enough that he should be anxious to know whether the headache had disappeared. The servant informed him that madame had gone out.
"Gone out!" cried Gustave; "she is better, then?"
"Dame! yes, monsieur; it's evident that madame has got rid of her sick headache."
"Where has she gone?"
"I don't know, monsieur."
"And she left no message for me, if I came?"
"Not a word."
"Has she gone to her father's?"
"I said that I didn't know."
"Very well; I will come again. Ask her to wait for me, when she returns."
The young man hurried to Monsieur Gerbault's. He found Adolphine alone. She read at once on his face that he was suffering, and asked him as she took his hand:
"What has happened, my friend? Something is the matter."
"Why—— Have you seen your sister to-day?"
"No."
"You have not?"
"No, she hasn't been here. Why do you ask?"
"Because I haven't seen her to-day, either. This morning, I called on her; I was told that she had a headache and was asleep. But this evening I called again, and she had gone out."
"Well, she has probably gone to see some of her friends. She has retained some acquaintances from the time when her husband was living, and she goes to see them sometimes. I can see nothing disturbing in that."
"But, after a whole day without seeing each other, to go out in the evening without saying where she's going—without leaving a word for me!"
"Fanny is so thoughtless; she probably forgot."
"Dear Adolphine! you try to excuse your sister, but I am sure that you blame her, at the bottom of your heart. Don't you remember how unkind she was to me last night?"
"Why, I didn't notice——"
"Yes, yes, you did notice that she left us to go and talk with that Monsieur de la Bérinière. Who is that man? wherever did she know him?"
"He was a friend of her husband, and in that way became acquainted with father."
"Is he rich?"
"He has forty thousand francs a year."
"Married?"
"No, he's an old bachelor; he asked father once for my hand."
"And you refused him?"
"Yes."
"You thought him too old, didn't you?"
"That wasn't the reason; but I refused him."
"Do you know, Adolphine, I have no idea what is going on in Fanny's head, but all this isn't natural. At the point we have reached,—we are to be married in six weeks, and we are both free,—two people don't pass a whole day without exchanging a glance, or a grasp of the hand. I tell you, there's something wrong. Could she deceive me again? Oh! no, that isn't possible; it would be too ghastly! too shameless!—No, I blush for having had such a thought. I have no doubt that she is at home and waiting for me. Au revoir, little sister!"
"Gustave, if anything should happen, you would tell me at once, wouldn't you?"
But Gustave did not hear; he was already at the foot of the stairs, and he hurried away to Fanny's house. She had not returned; he remembered the apartment he had asked her to inspect, and, although it was hardly customary to look at apartments in the evening, he said to himself: "Perhaps she has gone there." And in a few moments he was in Rue Fontaine. He inquired of the concierge who had the keys to the apartment, and was told that no lady had come that day to look at it.
One more hope dashed to the ground: as Fanny had gone out, why had she not gone to inspect the apartment of which he had spoken so highly the night before, telling her that they must make haste lest it should be rented to others? Gustave said all this to himself as he returned to Madame Monléard's abode. She had not returned; but it was only nine o'clock; she must return sooner or later, and Gustave was determined not to go to bed until he had seen her and spoken to her, even if he had to pass half the night on sentry-go before her door. But a woman, unattended, was unlikely to stay out late; she could not have gone to a ball; ladies didnot go alone to the theatre; so she must be at some small party; someone would probably escort her home, but he would find out who her escort was.
How many ideas pass through the mind of a jealous, worried lover in a few seconds! The imagination moves so fast that it does not know where to stop, or on what to decide. Every moment that passed without bringing Fanny added to Gustave's anxiety, his suffering, his suspicions. At last, about half-past ten, a cab stopped in front of the house. Gustave ran forward and was at the door before the cabman had alighted from his box. Fanny was in the cab, alone. When she recognized Gustave in the man who opened the door for her, she laughed heartily and cried:
"Ah! you open carriage-doors now, do you? Ha! ha! I congratulate you on your new trade."
This outburst of merriment seemed untimely, to say the least, to Gustave, who rejoined:
"I have no choice but to wait for cabs to arrive, as I fail to find you at home; as you go out without even leaving a line for me so that I may know where you are."
"Oh! mon Dieu! what a terrible crime! Am I no longer my own mistress—to go where I please without asking your leave? That would be very amusing!"
"You know very well, Fanny, that that isn't what I mean; you know that you are at liberty to do whatever you choose to do. So do not try to dodge the question. At the point we have reached, it is natural for us to tell each other what we do; for we ought to have no secrets from each other. I came here this morning, and you didn't see me on account of your headache."
"Well, monsieur, am I no longer allowed to have a headache? Pay the cabman, will you; I have come fromMadame Delabert's.—Can I no longer visit my friends, I should like to know?"
"Come, come, Fanny, don't be angry; perhaps I was foolish to be anxious. But it would have been so easy for you to leave word for me! Remember that I haven't seen you at all to-day, and a whole day without seeing you seems very long now!"
"It isn't my fault if I have a sick headache. I can still feel the effects of it, so I am going to bed; I am very tired."
"Mayn't I come up with you for a moment?"
"Oh! I should think not! it wouldn't be proper, so late."
"It isn't eleven yet."
"But I tell you that I still feel the effects of my headache, and that I am going straight to bed."
"Why didn't you go to see that apartment I told you about—on Rue Fontaine, near Place Saint-Georges?"
"Why didn't I? Because I forgot all about it."
"How could you forget a thing of such importance? For, if it suits you, we must rent it at once."
"Oh! my dear friend, I am not anxious to stand here in the street any longer. What do we look like—talking like this on a doorstep?"
"Then let me come up a moment."
"No; I tell you that I am going to bed!"
"There's something wrong, Fanny. This isn't natural. You're not the same with me that you were two days ago."
"You can tell me all that to-morrow. Good-night!"
"Very well, until to-morrow, then, madame! I trust that you will be visible?"
"Mon Dieu! monsieur, I am always visible when I am not sick. But don't come too early; for I don't rise with the dawn."
Fanny knocked, and the door opened. She hurried in and closed the door on Gustave, who remained in the street, poor fellow, unable to make up his mind to leave his fair one's abode. He did not know what to believe. He asked himself if he had not done wrong to reproach Fanny; she had been to see one of her friends, and had returned alone: there was no great harm in that. And yet, he was ill at ease, he suffered; his heart told him that something was wrong, and that his love was not the same to him as before.
At last, after pacing back and forth in front of Fanny's door for nearly an hour, gazing at those of her windows which were lighted, he decided to go away when the lights went out.
"I wish to-morrow were here," he thought.
Gustave did not close his eyes that night; where is the lover who could sleep, in his position? Only a lover who is not in love. At eight o'clock, the young man went down to the office, where there were as yet no clerks; but he found his uncle, who was always at his desk early.
"The deuce!" said Monsieur Grandcourt; "you're on hand in good season! Was it love of work that woke you?"
"Yes, uncle; I have some accounts to look over."
"How pale you look, and exhausted! One would say that you had been up all night."
"I am just out of bed."
"I'll wager that you didn't sleep. Is there anything new in your love affair?"
"Why—no, uncle."
"Your dear Fanny hasn't played you some new trick?"
"Ah! uncle, at the point we have reached——"
"It wouldn't surprise me at all."
"You have a very bad opinion of her."
"When a woman has made a fool of a man once, she will make a fool of him again—she will always do it! However, it would be better before marriage than after. Come and breakfast with me."
"It's too early, uncle; I am not hungry. By the way, have you thought about Arthur?"
"Who's Arthur?"
"Arthur Cherami; a good, honest fellow who is looking for a place."
"Ah! your tall swashbuckler, who has such a scampish look—always ready to fly at you? Upon my word, you are not fortunate in your friendships! What sort of a place do you suppose anyone would give to that fellow? He doesn't inspire the slightest confidence in me. He was rich once, and he squandered his whole property: a fine recommendation!"
"I believe that you judge him too harshly. A man may have done foolish things, and have turned over a new leaf. With you, uncle, repentance counts for nothing."
"Repentance has one great defect in my eyes: it never comes till after the wrong-doing. If a man could repent before he went wrong, that is to say, stop before he fell, then I should have a much higher opinion of repentance. Well, where are you going? leaving the office already?"
Gustave could not keep still. He left the office, and ran all the way to Fanny's house; then stopped and looked at his watch. It was barely nine o'clock; impossible to call upon her so early. The young man walked up Faubourg Poissonnière and kept on past the barrier; little he cared where he went, so long as the time passed. Suddenly he ran into a tree, which his complete absorption in his thoughts had prevented his seeing. At that, hehalted and looked about him, and was surprised to find that he was in the open country. But he felt that the air was keener and purer there, that it refreshed the mind and calmed the beating of the heart; and he sat down at the foot of the tree. He breathed more freely, he felt sensibly relieved. Ah! what a skilful physician the air is, and what marvellous cures we owe to it!
Gustave sat for a long while at the foot of the tree, which was bare of leaves; for it was late in October. He reviewed in his mind the whole of Fanny's conduct during the last two days, and wondered if his uncle were right after all. At last he rose and returned to Paris. It was nearly eleven o'clock when he reached the young widow's door. But he could wait no longer; he rang the bell violently, and the maid ushered him into her mistress's presence.
Fanny was sitting by the fire, in a dainty morning gown; for she was a woman who never allowed herself to be surprised in déshabillé; but her expression was cold and stern, as of a person who had made up her mind and was prepared for a rupture.
"I have come a little early, I fear," said Gustave, taking a seat, and seeking in vain an affable smile on the widow's features; "but you will surely forgive my impatience, I was so anxious to see you. I had almost no chance to speak to you last night, and I had so many things to say!"
"I, too, wished to speak with you, monsieur. I, too, have several things to say to you."
"Monsieur!What! you call memonsieur?What does that mean?"
"In heaven's name, let us not quibble over words. If I call youmonsieurnow, I do so in consequence of certain reflections I have made since yesterday. Do you know that I don't like to be followed, spied upon; that a jealous man is an unendurable creature to me?"
"Ah! you are trying to quarrel with me, madame?"
"No, I am not; but I am telling you frankly the subject of my reflections; and the result of those reflections is——"
"Is what? go on, madame."
"Is that I am afraid that I shall not make you happy, Gustave. I am naturally giddy, frivolous,—but I cannot change,—and my temperament would not harmonize at all with yours. Consequently we shall do much better not to marry. Oh! I have come to this decision solely in my solicitude for your happiness."
Gustave sprang to his feet so suddenly that the little widow could not restrain a gesture of terror. He took his stand in front of her, with folded arms, and gazed sternly at her, saying:
"So this is what you were aiming at—a rupture! And you dare to accuse me of spying, to try to put me in the wrong! to accuse me, when my conduct was simply the consequence of your own! Oh! don't think to deceive me again. Some other motive is behind your action. You have formed other plans."
"That does not concern you, monsieur! I believe that I am entirely free! I trust that you will spare me your reproaches. Well-bred people simply part—they don't quarrel over it."
"Never fear, madame; I shall not forget that you are a woman. But to play this trick upon me again—ah! it is shameful! Fanny, is it true? did I hear aright? Only two days ago, you were forming plans with me for our life to come, your hand pressed mine, you asked me if I would always love you."
"Justine, bring me some wood; the fire's going out."
The tone in which the young woman summoned her maid, having apparently paid no heed to Gustave, capped the climax of his exasperation; he strode up and down the room two or three times, then went to Fanny as if to give full vent to his wrath; but he checked himself, and, having bestowed upon her a glance in which were concentrated all his outraged feelings, he abruptly left the room without looking back.
For several hours thereafter, Gustave was like a madman; he was so unprepared for the blow, that he could hardly believe in its reality. He returned home and locked himself in his room; he dreaded to meet his uncle and hear him say:
"I prophesied what has happened."
He preferred to be alone, so that he could abandon himself to his grief; and for some time he could not keep from weeping over his lost happiness, although he told himself that Fanny did not deserve the tears she caused him to shed. Then he cudgelled his brain to divine what could have caused this sudden change in her ideas.
He determined to leave Paris again, to go away without a word to anyone; but the next day he went to see Adolphine, to tell her of his new unhappiness.
Fanny's sister seemed to be expecting his visit; she held out her hand as soon as he appeared, saying:
"Poor Gustave! I know all! My sister has disappointed you again! It is horribly hard!"
"What! you know already that she refuses to marry me! Who can have told you?"
"Why, she herself; she came here yesterday to tell us that, as soon as her mourning is at an end, she is going to marry——"
"She is going to marry, you say?"
"Why, didn't you know it?"
"Finish, in God's name! She is going to marry——"
"The Comte de la Bérinière."
Gustave dropped upon a chair, repeating between his teeth:
"The Comte de la Bérinière!"
But there was more surprise than anger in his tone; for, on learning that it was a man of sixty to whom Fanny gave the preference, he realized that it was no newborn passion that had caused the change in her heart.
"So," he exclaimed, after a moment, "that woman is always guided by selfish considerations! it is a fortune, a title, which she prefers to me! For this man is rich, I suppose?"
"Yes, very rich! And as Fanny doesn't propose to be left in poverty if she should be widowed again, it seems that the count settles twenty thousand francs a year on her when he marries her. But do not believe, my friend, that we approve her conduct: when she told us of her latest plan, father told her that the way in which she was treating you was utterly disgraceful, and that he never wanted to see her again, countess or no countess."
"And what did she reply?"
"She said that she could not imagine how we could blame her, and she went away repeating that we cared nothing for her happiness. It seems that the count had courted her before, and declared that he deeply regretted her marriage to Auguste. That is why, when she saw him again——"
"Enough, my dear Adolphine; I don't care to know anything more. I was mistaken in thinking that she loved me. As if anyone would ever love me! No; there are some people who were born to love alone, never to meet a heart that understands them."
"Why do you say that to me, Gustave?"
"Well, what does it matter, after all? a man cannot change his destiny. Adieu, Adolphine!"
"Are you going away, Gustave? Where are you going?"
"Oh! I don't know, but I feel that I must leave Paris again. I cannot be here when she marries the count. I am a fool, I know it perfectly well; your sister deserves no regret; but one does not lose all one's illusions without suffering. Adieu! give my respects to your father."
"But you won't stay away so long this time, will you? and when you return, you will be able to come to see me without fear; you won't meet her here again."
"Yes, you will see me. Adieu!"
Gustave took leave of Adolphine, whose eyes were full of tears as she looked after him; but he did not understand their language. He went to his uncle, told him what had happened, and expressed a desire to go to England and stay there for some time.
Monsieur Grandcourt said simply:
"That woman will end by sending you round the world. But let us hope that this will be your last trip.Go to England, go where you please—but don't return unless you are cured of your idiotic passion."
Gustave soon completed his preparations for departure; he had but a few hours to remain in Paris, when he met Cherami.
"Where are we going so fast?" cried Beau Arthur, taking Gustave's hand. "What has happened? Our countenance is not so cheerful and happy as it was the last time? Can it be that anything has happened to interrupt the course of our loves?"
"My friend," replied Gustave, with a sigh, "there has been a great change, indeed, in my affairs since we last met. There is to be no marriage; the love affair is at an end. Fanny has betrayed me again. Ah! I ought to have expected it! But, no; it is impossible to conceive such perfidy in a woman who looks at us with a smiling face, who tells us that she loves us!"
"What's that you say, my boy? The little widow has slipped out of your hand again? Nonsense, that can't be so!"
"It's the truth. She is going to marry the Comte de la Bérinière, an old man, but very rich. She is to be a countess—she has no further use for me."
"Why, this is perfectly frightful! A woman doesn't play skittles like that with an honest man's heart! And you haven't killed your rival?"
"No; for that wouldn't make Fanny love me any more. But I am going away; I don't propose to be here again, as I was at her first wedding. No, indeed; once was enough."
"You are going away? where?"
"To England and Scotland; but I shall not be away so long."
"Sapristi! my dear fellow, don't go away; the affair can be fixed up, perhaps."
"No, no, it's all over, all over! Fanny will never be mine. Adieu, my friend! it's almost train time. Au revoir!"
Gustave hurried away, and left Cherami standing there bewildered by his sudden departure. He seemed lost in thought for a moment, then tapped his leg with his switch and said:
"Morbleu! my friend Gustave unhappy! the woman he loves snatched away from him a second time! and I am to endure it! I, his Pylades, to whom he loans money without taking account of it!—No, par la sambleu! I will not endure it. Ah! my little widow! you play fast and loose with a fine fellow like that! You think that you can make fools of people in that way! But, patience! I am on hand, and I have my cue!"
About noon the next day, Cherami was walking in front of Madame Monléard's house.
"I don't know where he perches—this Comte de la Bérinière, whom Gustave told me about yesterday; but by doing sentry duty in front of this house, I can't fail to find out; this count will undoubtedly come to pay his respects to the little woman he's going to marry; he's rich, he will come in his carriage, and I am an awkward fellow if I can't learn the master's address from a servant."
Everything happened as Cherami had anticipated: about one o'clock, a stylish coupé drew up in front of Fanny's door, and a gentleman, who was no longer young, alighted from it; despite his years, he was dressed in the latest fashion and exhaled a powerful odor of perfumery.
"That's my man!" said Cherami to himself; and, having watched the count enter the house, he accosted the footman, who was yawning against a post.
"Wasn't that Monsieur le Comte de la Bérinière whom I just saw get out of this carriage?"
"Yes, monsieur; it was he."
"Ah! I said to myself: 'Why, there's an old acquaintance of mine!' yet I was afraid of making a mistake, so I didn't dare to speak to him; but I will go and renew my acquaintance with him to-morrow morning. Where does the dear count live now?"
"Rue de la Ville-l'Évêque, just at the beginning, near the Madeleine."
"Very good; I can see it from here. How late can I find the count at home in the morning?"
"Monsieur gets up late. He seldom goes out before noon."
"Infinitely obliged. I am sure that the dear count will be delighted to see me to-morrow morning."
"If monsieur would tell me his name, I would tell my master."
"No; bless my soul, no! I want to surprise him; don't say anything to him about it."
Cherami returned to his Hôtel du Bel-Air, saying to himself:
"Gustave doesn't choose to fight with his rival, but I'll wager that it's from some lingering feeling of delicacy,of kindness for that little sinner of a Fanny! He says to himself: 'Let her be a countess, if that will make her happy.'—Infernal nonsense, I call it. And as I have no reason for being agreeable to that lady, I trust that I shall be able to prevent her putting this new affront on my young friend."
The next day, having dressed himself with care, Cherami took the Paris omnibus and exchanged into one for the Madeleine; at half-past ten, he arrived at the Comte de la Bérinière's door, recognized the footman of the preceding day, and said to him:
"Here I am; take me in to your master."
"Monsieur le comte is still in bed."
"Very well! wake him."
"He's awake, for he has already had his chocolate."
"As he's awake, there's no need of his getting up to receive me; I can talk with him perfectly well in bed. Go and tell him that an old friend of his wishes to see him."
"Your name, monsieur?"
"I have already told you that I wanted to surprise him; consequently, I don't choose to send in my name."
The servant went to his master and delivered the message. Monsieur de la Bérinière had not begun to think of rising; he had taken the young widow to the Opéra the night before, and had played the attentive gallant all the evening, and he was at an age when such service is very tiresome. So he was reposing in bed from the fatigues of the night.
"That young widow is an adorable creature," he mused. "Marriage will make me settle down; I shall lead a virtuous life, and it will do me good."
He was somewhat annoyed, therefore, when his servant announced an old friend who wished to speak with him.
"Neither old friends nor new ones ought to come so early," he exclaimed. "What the devil! they ought to let people sleep in peace. What's the name of this old friend who's such an early bird?"
"He refused to send in his name, in order to surprise monsieur."
"He deserves to be turned away without seeing me."
"He was in the street last night when monsieur went into Madame Monléard's. He recognized monsieur when he stepped out of the carriage."
"Well! let us see this man of surprises."
The servant ushered Cherami into his master's bedroom, and withdrew. Monsieur de la Bérinière, with his rumpled silk nightcap on his head, and his eyes still half-closed, was curled up in bed, covered to his nose by the bedclothes; and in that position he was entirely destitute of charms. So that Cherami, after eying him for a few seconds, said to himself:
"What! it was this old baked apple who was given the preference over my good-looking young friend Gustave! Damnation! women care even more for money than we men do! for our reason for wanting it is to get wives with it, while they take it to throw us over."
While Cherami indulged in this reflection, the count scrutinized his visitor with interest, and said to him at last in a slightly nasal voice:
"My dear monsieur, it's of no use for me to examine you from head to foot, or to search my memory: I do not recall any friend of mine who resembles you in the least."
Cherami bowed with an affable smile, and replied:
"Don't try, monsieur le comte, don't take that trouble; it would be a waste of time; for the fact is that this is the first time I have had the pleasure of being in your company."
"What's that? deuce take me! what does this mean? In that case, you are not the old friend that you held yourself out to be?"
"That is to say, monsieur, I ventured to tell that little falsehood in order to be more certain of obtaining an interview with you this morning."
Monsieur de la Bérinière frowned and scowled, which did not add to his beauty; he scrutinized Cherami with evident suspicion, and rejoined sharply:
"What have you so important, so urgent, to say to me, monsieur, that you presume to disturb me so early, to resort to a trick in order to be admitted?"
"You shall know in a moment; but, first, allow me to sit. The matter in hand deserves that I should take the trouble to be comfortable."
Without awaiting a reply, Cherami took an armchair, placed it beside the bed, and stretched himself out in it. The ease of his manners, which did not lack distinction, began to dispel the suspicions which had assailed the count's mind for a moment; his curiosity was aroused by the whole aspect of the strange individual who sat facing him.
Cherami, being seated to his satisfaction, began thus:
"Monsieur de la Bérinière, you see before you Arthur Cherami, the intimate friend of young Gustave Darlemont. You know Gustave Darlemont, I believe?"
"Faith! no; but, stay! Gustave—— Do you refer to the young man who was an old play-fellow of MadameMonléard, and whom I saw at Monsieur Gerbault's the other evening?"
"The same; that is, I don't know whether Gustave was Madame Monléard's play-fellow, but I do know that he had become her heart's fellow. However, without going into that, he was on the point of marrying the young widow, when your appearance changed everything. You are a count, you are rich; the little woman is a flirt of the first order; she whirled about like a weathercock. By the way, this isn't the first time she has taken the same turn. King François I said: 'Souvent femme varie, bien fol est qui s'y fie.'[D]Which proves that that king had made a careful study of the fair sex—a study which cost him rather dear! but, never mind that; thus you, monsieur le comte, are the cause of Madame Monléard's having abruptly given my friend Gustave the mitten, instead of marrying him. And now, do you begin to suspect what brings me here?"
"Why, yes, I fancy so; you are sent by this young Gustave, who desires to fight with me?"
"That isn't it exactly. You are burning, but you're not quite there. This is how it is: Gustave has no thought of fighting; not that he lacks courage; oh! he's brave enough, I would answer for him as for myself!—but he has such a soft spot in his heart for the widow that he's afraid that, by killing you, he might distress her. The poor boy is in despair; and when he's in despair, he leaves Paris, he goes abroad, seeks distraction in other climes—and what I don't understand is that he comes back as dead in love as when he went away; for I must tell you, monsieur le comte, that you're not the first to cut the grass from under his feet, as they say; he wasto have married Mademoiselle Fanny Gerbault, when Monsieur Auguste Monléard came upon the scene; he had the prestige of wealth and fine social position, and poor Gustave was shown the door. To-day, therefore, we have a second performance of the same play, with this difference: that now my young friend has an excellent position in his uncle's banking-house; but that you have a title and a fine turnout, and are much richer than he."
"Well, monsieur, as your young friend doesn't think of fighting—which is very wise of him, by the way, for I fancy that it wouldn't increase the widow's affection for him; and, between ourselves, as he had been rejected once, I am a good deal surprised that he came forward a second time——"
"I agree with you, par la sambleu! I wouldn't have been the man to act in that way! A woman who had slighted me for another man—that's much worse than deceiving! Men are deceived every day, and it's forgiven; but slighted, disdained! However, what would you have! passions are passions! Gustave is to be pitied."
"I pity him with all my heart; but I return to my question: that being so, what can have brought you here?"
"Oh! mon Dieu! it's easily explained. I am Gustave's devoted friend; he forgives insult and treachery, but I do not choose that he shall be insulted or betrayed. The wrong that is done him wounds me, insults me; and as I have never swallowed an insult, I fight.—I have come, therefore, to demand satisfaction at your hands for the little widow's perfidy—of which you are the cause; that is to say, to speak more accurately, the little widow is the real and the only culprit in this affair. It was she who made a fool of Gustave in a much too indecent fashion; but as it's impossible to demand satisfactionof a woman, I have come to demand it of you, monsieur le comte, as her accomplice and representative in this affair."
The count put the whole of his head outside of the bedclothes, in order to obtain a better view of the person who had made this proposition to him; and, after scrutinizing him carefully, he replied, in a mocking tone:
"It makes no difference how closely I examine you, my dear monsieur, I do not know you at all."
"We will make each other's acquaintance by fighting."
"Why should you expect me to fight with you? You haven't insulted me in any way."
"If an insult is all that is necessary to induce you to fight with me, never fear, I'll insult you; but I confess that I should prefer to have the affair pass off quietly, courteously, as becomes well-bred people; and, although I am not, like you, monsieur le comte, of noble birth, I beg you to believe that you will not cross swords with a churl. I am of good family, I was well educated, I inherited a very pretty little fortune; but I made a fool of myself for that charming sex which is decidedly fond of cashmere shawls and truffles. I have ruined myself, pretty nearly, but I haven't forgotten how to use a sword; as poor Auguste Monléard had reason to know."
"What's that? you fought with my pretty widow's first husband?"
"The day after the wedding; and I gave him a very neat sword-thrust in the forearm."
"Ah! that fall that he claimed to have had on the stairs?"
"That was the result of our duel."
"Gad! monsieur, it seems that you have sworn the death of all the captivating Fanny's husbands."
"If she had married my friend Gustave, I promise you that I wouldn't have fought with him!"
"You will permit me to inform you, monsieur, that your conduct is utterly absurd."
"Why so, monsieur, I pray to know?"
"Because one doesn't take up the cudgels in this way for another man who is old enough to attend to his own affairs. Your friend Gustave doesn't see fit to fight; why should you take it into your head to fight for him?"
"I explained the reasons of my conduct a moment ago. If you didn't listen, I will repeat them."
"It's a waste of time, monsieur; I shall not fight with you."
With that, the count pulled up the bedclothes, turned his face to the wall, and curled himself up so that he made but a large-sized ball.
Cherami rose and paced the floor; then went to the fireplace and warmed his feet at the fire that burned briskly on the hearth, saying:
"It's quite sharp this morning; you were very wise to order a fire lighted in your bedroom; one takes cold so easily. To be sure, this room is tightly closed, but the least draught does the business so quickly!"
After a few minutes, annoyed to find that his visitor did not take his leave, the count turned over and sat up in bed.
"I say, monsieur," he exclaimed testily, "do you intend to pass the day in my bedroom? Do me the favor to go away and let me sleep."
"And do you, monsieur le comte, do me the favor to cover yourself with the bedclothes again; you'll take cold."
"A truce to jesting, monsieur! I have told you that I would not fight with you; I repeat it. There is nothing to keep you here, therefore."
"O my dear Monsieur de la Bérinière—I believe that is your name, De la Bérinière, is it not?"
"Yes, monsieur; that is my name."
"My dear Monsieur de la Bérinière, when I take it into my head to do a thing, I assure you that it has to be done. I have promised myself to fight with you—unless, however, you give me your word of honor to renounce your project of marrying Auguste Monléard's widow. In that case, I am content. Does that suit you?"
"On my word, this is too much!"
"What is it that's too much?"
"You disgust me,[E]monsieur!"
"Do I, indeed? Gad! you are not to be pitied, in such weather as this. So you won't give her up?"
"What do you take me for, in God's name?"
"Then you agree to fight?"
"Go to the devil!"
"In that case, I must resort to decisive measures."
And Cherami, raising his switch, caused it to whistle about the count's ears, but without touching him; that manœuvring sufficed, however, to make Monsieur de la Bérinière straighten himself up and cry, in a furious rage:
"You are a villain, monsieur!"
"Aha! you're awake at last, are you?"
"You will give me satisfaction for this indecent behavior, monsieur!"
"That is just what I have been asking you for, for the past hour."
"Leave your address; my seconds will call upon you to-morrow at eight o'clock; see that yours are there, also."
Cherami scratched his ear, muttering:
"My seconds! Do we need any seconds? Why not settle the business at once, between ourselves?"
"Oho! monsieur, so you never have fought a duel?"
"More than you have, I'll wager."
"Then you should know that people don't fight without seconds; it is forbidden."
"I am very well aware that it is customary to have them; but we don't always conform to custom. For instance, Monsieur Monléard and I fought without seconds."
"But, monsieur, as I have no desire to find myself with a wretched affair on my hands on your account, I tell you that I will not fight without seconds."
"So be it! As you insist upon it, we will have them."
"Your address, monsieur?"
"Here it is: Cherami, Hôtel du Bel-Air, Rue de l'Orillon, Belleville."
"Belleville! So you don't live in Paris?"
"I am in the suburbs. Does that disturb you?"
"It is a matter of absolute indifference to me; but my seconds will not call on you until ten o'clock, for I don't choose to make them get up at daylight."
"At ten o'clock, then, I will expect them. And now, monsieur le comte, permit me to offer you my respects."
"Good-day, monsieur, good-day!"
Monsieur de la Bérinière buried himself anew under the bedclothes, decidedly put out by the visit he hadreceived. As for Cherami, he said to himself when he was in the street:
"I have my cue! He will fight—aye, but my seconds—I must have two; I absolutely must have them, or no duel. Where shall I find them? It's damnably embarrassing. I can't think of a solitary soul. Sapristi! where can I find two seconds? There's nothing to be said; I must have two, and two passably respectable ones, to-morrow morning!"