Chapter XI: Front Matter (11)

I resolved to think no more of her; she was no better than the rest!--In truth, I was unlucky in love! I had never yet fallen in with a faithful woman; they had all deceived me, betrayed me, played fast and loose with me; but all their perfidies had caused me less pain than I suffered because of Nicette's inconstancy! She saw that I loved her; all women see that at a glance! She did everything to attract me! To think that one so young should be so skilled in feigning love and sensibility and gratitude! I could never again believe in anything or anybody.

But, before forgetting her entirely, I proposed to see the man who had replaced me in her heart, the man who had beguiled her, whom she loved! What a lucky dog he was! At that moment I would have given all that I possessed to be loved by Nicette.

I had been told that he went to see her every evening; I would see him that very day. There was a café almost opposite the shop, where I could wait unobserved, for I did not choose that the ungrateful girl should witness all the torments of my feeble heart.

I passed the day as best I could, and at five o'clock I betook myself to Rue Saint-Honoré. When I came in sight of her shop, I looked to see if she was in the doorway. She was not there, and I slipped into the café unseen by her. I took my seat at a table that touched the window, and ordered a half-bowl of punch, because it would naturally take me some time to drink it. The waiter made me repeat my order; no doubt he took me for an Englishman or a Fleming; but I cared little. I took up a newspaper to keep myself in countenance, and kept my eyes fixed on the flower shop.

The time seems very long when one anticipates a pleasure, and still longer when one is suffering and in dread. Would the darkness never come! It was October, and should have been dark at six o'clock. Could it be that it was not yet six? I looked at the clock; it marked only half-past five; it was probably slow. I looked at my watch; twenty-five minutes past five! It was cruel! I tried to drink the punch that was before me, but it was impossible for me to swallow; I had not dined, but I had been suffocating since the morning.

At last the daylight faded. How was I to see what happened inside the shop? how was I to distinguish that man's features? I hoped that she would have a light. Sure enough, she came out with a light and began to carry in her flowers. What sadness, what depression in her whole aspect! She seated herself in the shop, beside the table, but she did not write! She sighed and glanced often into the street. She was expecting someone--and it was not I!

It was almost seven o'clock, and no one had appeared. Suppose he should not come? Should I be any happier then? Had she not agreed that morning that I knew the truth? And had her blush, her embarrassment, told me nothing?

A man appeared and entered the shop; he sat down beside her. Great God! did not my eyes deceive me? It was Raymond! Raymond with Nicette! Raymond her lover! No, no; that was impossible!

I rushed out of the café to make sure of the truth. Someone ran after me and stopped me. It was the waiter; I had forgotten to pay. I did not understand very well what he said, but I put three francs in his hand and he left me. The darkness allowed me to remain in the street unseen by Nicette, while I could see her plainly. It was in very truth Raymond whom I had seen, whom I saw. He was talking to her very earnestly, and she listened with attention. I read in her eyes the interest she took in what he was saying; she seemed more distressed than ever, she wept. He took her hand and squeezed it tenderly! She did not withdraw it! That lovely hand abandoned to Raymond! Ah! it was all over, I could no longer doubt my misfortune. I felt that I must fly while I still had strength to do so, and must never see her again! If only I could at the same time banish her image from my thoughts! But the idea that she loved Raymond crushed me, haunted me incessantly! So it was for Raymond's benefit that I had preserved intact that flower which it would have been so sweet to me to pluck! I respected her innocence, and this was my reward!

If some respectable young man, of obscure station like herself, had won her heart while seeking her hand, I might perhaps have consoled myself; at all events, I should have been proud of having kept her pure and worthy of his vows. But that such a fellow as Raymond should triumph over Nicette! By what spell could he have fascinated her? He was neither young nor handsome; he was a stupid, vain, chattering bore! If there was anything lovable about him, I had never discovered it! And that was the man she preferred to me! Oh! these women!

I was no longer surprised at the embarrassment I had observed in Raymond's manner when we last met. The traitor! so that was why he avoided me. The fellow was my evil genius, in very truth! He knew that I knew Nicette; he knew, perhaps, that I loved her. If I had listened to nothing but my rage, I should have gone to him and insulted him. But how can one obtain satisfaction from a dastard? and would his death make Nicette what I formerly believed her to be? I would despise one and forget the other; that was the only course for me to pursue.

Once more I sought in repose oblivion of my suffering. What a different night from the last! Last night, forming delightful plans based upon love and constancy; to-night, cursing that sentiment and the woman who had inspired it! If the weariness caused by such tempests of emotion made me doze for a moment, my first thought, on reopening my eyes, was of all my blasted hopes.

When I was dressed, I could not resist the longing to talk with Raymond. I promised myself to retain my self-control, to hold myself in check, and to conceal the state of my heart. I hastened across the landing and knocked and rang at his door. The concierge knew that he was at home; he was not in the habit of rising early; still he did not open the door. I rang again, and that time the bellrope remained in my hand. I heard sounds at last; I recognized his heavy tread, and soon his nasal tones greeted my ears.

"Who is it making such a row at my door before seven o'clock? It's outrageous to wake a man up like this!"

"It's I, neighbor; it's I, Dorsan; I want to talk with you."

For some seconds he did not reply, and when he did I knew by his voice that he was not gratified by my call.

"What! is it you, my dear neighbor?"

"Yes, it's I."

"What brings you here so early?"

"You shall learn; but first let me in; I don't like to talk through a door."

"I beg your pardon--you see, I'm in my nightshirt."

"Bah! what difference does it make to me, whether you're in your nightshirt, or naked, or fully dressed? I have no desire to examine your person. Open the door! then you can go back to bed; that won't interfere with my talking to you."

"You see, I passed most of the night writing birthday rhymes; and I am still sleepy."

"Oh! morbleu! Monsieur Raymond, open the door, or I'll break it down!"

The tone in which I uttered the last words indicated a purpose to carry out my threat. He did not wait for me to repeat it, but opened the door, and, running back through his little reception room, jumped into bed, where he wrapped himself up in the bedclothes, leaving nothing exposed but his nose and his great eyes, which he turned from side to side with an air of uneasiness, not venturing to look at me. I followed; the first thing I saw on entering his bedroom was a dozen or more bunches of orange blossoms, like those Nicette used to leave at my door; they were symmetrically arranged on my neighbor's dressing table. That sight tore my heart, but I had promised myself to be philosophical, so I sat down beside Raymond's bed and tried to speak very calmly.

"How are you this morning, Monsieur Raymond?"

He gazed at me in amazement.

"Was it to inquire about my health that you broke my bellrope and threatened to break down my door?"

"Oh! you must know that that was a joke! I had a question I wanted to ask you.--You have some very pretty bouquets there; it seems that you too are fond of orange blossoms?"

"Yes, yes; I like their odor very much; it's good for the nerves, and I am very nervous, you know."

"There's a bond of sympathy between us, for these bouquets bear a surprising resemblance to those that adorn my bedroom--and for which you once expressed your admiration."

"Yes, that's true; indeed, I remember now that that was what gave me the idea of having some myself."

"And are your flower dealer and mine the same?"

He did not know what to say, and his head disappeared for a moment under the bedclothes.

"Well, neighbor?"

"Oh! I haven't any regular flower dealer; I go sometimes to one, sometimes to another."

"Come, come, Monsieur Raymond, why fence with me; is this the confidence of which you claim to set me an example? Are you afraid of making me angry? Don't be afraid; I ceased to think about little Nicette a long while ago."

At that, he took his whole head out from beneath the bedclothes, and looked at me with a surprised and pleased expression.

"What! do you mean it? you have ceased to think about the little flower girl?"

"I never thought about her!"

"Well! do you know, I almost suspected as much! Besides, we have Madame de Marsan, who must occupy a good deal of our attention!"

"Never mind Madame de Marsan; tell me about your intrigue with Nicette."

"Oh! it isn't a long story! I confess that I am madly in love with her! You know how pretty she is!"

"A saucy face!"

"The deuce! saucy! you call her saucy! you are hard to please."

"Well?"

"I go to make love to her almost every night. At first she was a little inclined to be wild; but I was so skilful at wheedling her, that now she can't get along without me, and I am sure that she adores me."

"Has she told you so?"

"Almost; besides, those things don't need to be told; they can be seen. I know women so well!"

"You are more fortunate than I. So you have triumphed?"

"Not altogether as yet; but it won't be long, I am getting ahead very fast. Look you, with women, just be assiduous, persistent, and agreeable, and you can be sure of victory! Oh! I'm a crafty dog, I am, a finished roué! A man must be that, to please the women. Sentiment, sighs, tender words, those were all right once; nowadays, at the first meeting, you inflame; at the second, you toy; at the third, you take a kiss--pinch the knee, squeeze her, and she is yours."

I could not restrain an angry movement.

"And this is the man she loves!" I said, rising abruptly.

Raymond, terrified by my action, had buried himself anew under the bedclothes.

"Do you still have nervous paroxysms?" he cried, without showing his face.

"No, no, I'm all right. Adieu, Monsieur Raymond! be happy; and, above all things, make Nicette happy."

With that, I left him, returned to my own room, and locked the door. There I could at least give free vent to the passions which agitated me, and which I had had the strength to restrain in Raymond's presence. My heart was torn by love, jealousy, anger, and the most profound melancholy in turn. I tried to regain my self-control and to overcome a weakness at which I blushed; then I went out. For a week I courted the distractions of society and abandoned myself to what men call pleasure. But those things that once attracted me no longer had the slightest charm for me. I went to the theatre, to balls, concerts, the most brilliant parties; everywhere I was bored and discontented; wherever I went, I carried in the depths of my heart a melancholy, a depression which I could not overcome.

I was always delighted to go home; I was happier there; I sought new suffering in my memories; but that very suffering had a charm for me which I failed to find in society. But if I wished to forget _her_, I must needs leave those lodgings. How could I fail to think of her in that room, on that bed where she had slept! everything there reminded me of her and fed my love for her. I felt that I must go away; that I must leave Paris, where life had become unendurable to me. Distance, change of scene, and time, which, they say, triumphs over everything,--those were the remedies with which I must treat the insane passion that held sway in my heart. I would go to see my sister; she had ceased to expect me, but she would be none the less glad to see me; at all events, I should find there people who loved me. It seemed to me that that would do me good. My preparations were soon made. I locked the door of my lodgings, which I retained, although I was resolved never to occupy them again. I forbade Madame Dupont to let anyone enter except herself; she was to take care of them. I paid two quarters' rent in advance, and started for my sister's.

XXVIII

LIFE IN THE PROVINCES

I arrived in due time at the country estate where my sister ordinarily passed the whole year. From a distance I saw that the window shutters were closed. Could they be travelling? She surely would have written me. I rang the bell at the gateway; the gardener admitted me and informed me that Monsieur and Madame Déneterre had gone to Melun for the winter, and that they came into the country on fine Sundays only. As the city was only two or three miles distant, I set out on foot. It was beginning to be dark, but there was a moon. On the way, I tried to imagine what had induced my dear relations to change their mode of life. They used never to leave their country house; but they had been married a number of years, and they probably were beginning to find that they had not so much to say to each other. Then the winter evenings seemed long to them, I supposed, so it occurred to them to try passing them in town. That is the way such fine plans for the future always end! Is there anything on earth that is beyond the reach of the effects of time?

I came in sight of the first houses of Melun, a pretty little town, where I used to enjoy myself immensely in the old days; I should surely find it delightful, now that Paris was unendurable to me. This much was certain, that change of scene necessarily causes distraction, and distraction is the very best remedy for pains of the heart and mind. Besides, I was no Werther; I had no inclination to nourish my love and my sorrow in dense forests, or on the brink of a precipice. On the contrary, I was trying to cure myself; that is the most sensible course; less romantic, it is true, but more in accordance with nature; and I am all for the natural.

I inquired my sister's address. I walked through a part of the town, which would be its Faubourg Saint-Germain, and I soon found the Déneterre mansion. In the provinces a family generally occupies a whole house, whereas in Paris three families often live on the same floor. I confess that it is pleasanter to be alone in your house, to be able to do whatever you choose without fear of annoying your neighbors, to be spared the necessity of meeting repulsive faces, insolent servants, and snarling children on the stairs, to find no marks of a dog or cat on your doormat, when for cleanliness' sake you keep no animals yourself; and lastly, to be able to dismiss your concierge when he is disrespectful, whereas in Paris you must bribe him, no matter how insolent he may be, at the risk of passing the night in the street or at the police station, because, in the company of your friends, you have forgotten to keep watch of the time. These are some notable advantages of the provinces over the capital.

My sister uttered a cry of surprise and delight when she saw me; she threw her arms round my neck and kissed me.

"Is it really you, dear Eugène?" she said. "In truth, I didn't expect to see you before next spring. Ah! it's very sweet of you to remember your best friends at last."

I did not tell her that nothing but the desire to avoid Nicette had driven me from Paris; there was no need of that; besides, I preferred to be spared the comments of my dear Amélie, who was something of a gossip, which one is sure to be when one lives in the provinces, where there is not enough to do to keep people from meddling with their neighbors' affairs.

My sister sent for her husband, who had gone to play billiards with some friends.

"So he no longer passes all his evenings at home?" I asked Amélie.

"Oh! my dear, the evenings are very long in winter, and one must do something. In the provinces, gambling is the general rule; one must needs conform to it and do as others do."

"That is true; it is what I have always thought, and what I told you at the time of your marriage, when you were laying out a scheme of life which resembled nothing ever heard of. You told me that I was a heedless, foolish fellow, because I laughed at your plans of seclusion, and of the happiness you were to enjoy in solitude; and now you have abandoned that solitude!"

"Oh! only for the winter; for in winter the country is very dismal; you see nobody, you can't walk or drive. Everybody flocks to the town, where they give receptions, play cards, dance sometimes--in short, enjoy themselves. That's why we came. What would you have? we must do as others do."

"Why, it seems perfectly natural to me. At all events, you are happy, aren't you?"

"Yes, my dear, very happy! My husband is the best of men; a little obstinate, to be sure, and not always willing to listen to me when I prove to him that I am right. The result is that we dispute sometimes; but that's nothing!"

"Oh, no! besides, we must do as others do, must we not?"

"You haven't kissed my children yet, my two little boys; they are charming little fellows, perfect demons! But bright! you may judge for yourself."

"Where are they?"

"They're in bed; it's nearly eight o'clock."

"We mustn't wake them."

"No; you shall see them to-morrow. It's more than a year since you came to see us--fifteen months at least! They have grown tremendously in that time! The older one is four now, and the younger three. You can tell us whom they look like."

Déneterre's appearance interrupted our conversation. My brother-in-law manifested great pleasure at my arrival; he embraced me with sincere cordiality, urged me to pass the winter with them at Melun, and I saw in his eyes that his heart agreed with his lips; I noticed simply that when he came in he had in his hands a billiard cue, which he stood in a corner. We talked business and the news of Paris for a moment. Déneterre was in good spirits; his cotton mill was prosperous, his business was in excellent shape, he hoped to be able to retire and live on his income in a few years.

While we were talking, Amélie went in and out, gave orders, had a room made ready for me, invited me to take something before supper.

"I never take supper," I said.

"You must do it here, my dear; it's one of the customs of the province, and it's not disagreeable, I assure you."

"All right; I'll take supper when I am hungry."

"Speaking of eating," said Déneterre, "where are the children? Why don't they come to kiss their uncle?"

"They're in bed, my dear," said Amélie.

"In bed, already! why, that's ridiculous! You put them to bed too early."

"Their health requires it."

"Boys don't need to sleep so much."

"Boys who run about and play all day must need rest when night comes."

"No matter; I want them to come to kiss their uncle."

"They can do it just as well to-morrow morning."

"To-morrow! to-morrow! that won't be the same thing at all. I'm going to get them."

"What! wake them up! upon my word! I would like to see you--just to make them sick."

"You're the one who makes them sick, making them sleep like dormice."

"At this rate, I shan't have anything to say about my own children."

"They are boys; it's my place to train them."

"You don't understand anything about it; besides, it isn't my fault that they're not girls."

As I saw that the discussion was becoming warm, I made haste to change the subject by taking the billiard cue and handing it to Déneterre.

"Is this cue yours?"

"Yes; it's a prize cue that I won at pool not long ago."

"Ah! so you play pool, do you?"

"Every night; I am a very good hand at it."

"Very well; go and finish your game. No ceremony between us, you know. Besides, I am tired and am going to bed."

"Until to-morrow, then," said Déneterre, taking his prize cue eagerly; "you must join us to-morrow, and you will see what progress I've made since last year, especially since I have been using a patent cue."

Déneterre left us, and Amélie took me to my room, showing me on the way a large part of the house, and telling me in detail all that she had lately had done to it, and the further improvements that she had in view. I noticed in my sister's conversation something of the tone of the old gentleman with whom I had dined at Madame de Marsan's country house, and who dilated so complacently on the details of his barnyard and hencoop. But I began to understand that the story of the birth of a chicken and the education of a rabbit might be of great interest to people who had nothing else to do.

In the course of our conversation, I asked my sister if she often had disputes with her husband.

"Disputes!" she exclaimed, with a surprised look; "why, we never have any."

"I thought that just now----"

"Oh! you call that a dispute! why, my dear boy, that was nothing at all; we have a hundred little arguments like that during the day; but they're not disputes! You see, when two people live together, it's very hard to be always of the same opinion."

"I should think that it would be more agreeable."

"But it's impossible! Ah! my dear Eugène, anyone can see that you're a bachelor! you know nothing at all about married life; but before long I hope that you will know all the joys of marriage, of which you have no conception now."

"No; I agree that I have no conception of them."

"Patience, it will come in time. Good-night, dear Eugène; until to-morrow!"

My sister left me, and I went to bed reflecting on the manner of life of which Amélie and her husband had just given me a specimen; and yet it was a delightful household, so everybody said. This much was certain--that my sister was virtuous, and true to her husband, and that Déneterre was very fond of his wife and children. Why, then, those frequent disputes?--I saw that my sister was right: I had undertaken to argue about conjugal happiness, and I did not know what it was. I concluded that the best thing I could do was to go to sleep.

The journey had tired me, but the sight of my sister and her husband had diverted my thoughts from my grief, for all troubles yield at last to time and to distraction. I fell asleep in a more tranquil frame of mind than I had known for a long while; and I should doubtless have slept well into the forenoon, if my dear nephews had not taken it upon themselves to wake me. At seven o'clock I heard a great noise in my room; I felt somebody pulling my leg and my arm; I opened my eyes and saw my sister's two children, who had climbed on my bed and were amusing themselves by playing tricks and tumbling all over me. While I, still half asleep, gazed vacantly at them, I heard a roar of laughter behind me; I drew the curtain aside and discovered Déneterre seated a few feet from the bed and laughing at my surprise.

"Well!" he said; "here they are; what do you think of them?"

"Why, they are in excellent condition, so far as I can see."

"Aren't they fine boys?"

"Yes, indeed."

"Ah! I'll make hearty little chaps of them, I tell you! They're such merry, lively rascals!"

"So I see; just tell them not to pinch me so hard. Here's one of them who won't let go my calf."

"It's only play, my dear fellow. They wake me like this every morning. Tell me, is there any greater pleasure?"

"Yes, to a father, it must be perfectly charming; but to an uncle, you see, it hasn't quite the same fascination."

"Parbleu! it rests entirely with you to become acquainted with that pleasure; marry, and have children; they'll caress you as these little fellows caress me."

"Oh! I shall do it some day, no doubt."

"Come, my hearties, kiss your uncle and let him dress."

To prove their affection, the "hearties" threw themselves on my stomach, seized my head, and, while kissing me, rubbed their faces clean and wiped their noses on my cheeks and nose; they tried to see which would kiss me the more. I was suffocating, I cried for mercy; their papa was forced to order them to desist, but they listened to him no more than to me, and kept on as before. Luckily, my sister arrived and the scene changed.

"What!" she exclaimed, striding angrily toward her husband; "you brought the children to their uncle before I had washed and dressed them and combed their hair?"

"Well! what of that, my dear love? must they be in their Sunday best to bid their uncle good-morning?"

"It isn't a question of Sunday best; but I should have liked Eugène to see them first when they were decently clean; and when they have once begun to play, it isn't possible to keep them looking decent. But you do everything without consulting me!"

"I assure you, my dear sister, that I consider them very nice as they are."

"Come, young gentlemen, breakfast is waiting."

The word _breakfast_ caused my little rascals to decamp at once; they were soon off my bed, and I was able to rise.

It seemed to me that examples of wedded bliss succeeded each other rather swiftly under my sister's roof. But I was inclined to think that, if I should marry, I should not take them as patterns in the matter of bringing up children. But I had arrived only the night before, and it was fair to wait before forming a final judgment.

I went downstairs and joined the family in the dining room. While we breakfasted, Amélie and her husband described their daily life to me. In the morning, business, housekeeping, and a walk when they had any time to themselves; in the evening, Déneterre went to the café to play pool, while his wife dressed to go out. Every evening in the week was taken: Monday, at the notary's, a small and select party. The most notable of the townspeople met there. There was little card playing, but much political discussion, and one could learn there the news of all the cabinets in Europe; the interests of each of the powers were discussed, and the _Moniteur_ was read aloud. Tuesdays, at the house of a retired merchant; he was a rich man and entertained handsomely: beer, cake, and sweetened water flavored with orange. The play was for very high stakes: boston for six _blancs_, and écarté for five sous; the bets sometimes went as high as seventy-five centimes! But all games were played there; whist and boston with great skill. No one called for six tricks unless he had eight, or stood unless he held an _indépendance_; so that it was very unusual to see a _remise_ in the course of the evening. Wednesdays, the evening was spent with the widow of the justice's clerk, who had four daughters to marry and no money to give them. There they played innocent games or acted charades or proverbs. In the first place, those games do not wear out cards, and require fewer candles; in the second place, the young men soon become well acquainted with the young ladies while playing such games. They talk and laugh together; and many a passion has had its birth in crambo, or the little box of _amourettes_. While whispering a _confidence_, one can easily put in a word of love; while pretending to sulk, one can say many things! That is the way more than one marriage is made; and when one has four daughters to look after, no means should be neglected. However, everything was all right at the widow's; the games were carried on with the strictest decorum, and blind-man's-buff seated was prohibited. Thursdays, the meetings were at an ex-councillor's. Everybody was not received there; only the cream of society. The guests were forbidden to talk politics, war, affairs of state, or newspaper rumors. There was no card playing, because that was a bad example for the young; there was no dancing, because madame la conseillère, who was old but coquettish, could never obtain a partner; there were no charades, because they disturb the orderly arrangement of a salon, and may result in marring the furniture and tearing curtains; there were no innocent games, because the councillor considered them indecorous; there were no refreshments, because well-bred people never need anything of the sort. With these restrictions, one could say and do whatever one chose, and, of course, enjoy one's self immensely. On Fridays they met at the house of an elector, whose wife, who was young and pretty, followed all the fashions of the capital. There you did whatever you chose; no restraint, no ceremony. Dancing was permitted, and singing, when anyone desired to sing. Sometimes there was instrumental music, because there was a piano. All sorts of games were played, from loto to chess; and you could risk a sou or a louis at your pleasure. Everybody said what came into his head; they laughed and joked and talked as they liked; opinions were free; almost all the newspapers were to be found there, and all sorts of refreshments were provided. It was after the style of the receptions in the Chaussée d'Antin at Paris.

On Saturdays--ah! that was the day when they all met at my sister's.

"You will see what fun we have," she said to me; "such a noise, such _go_! You can't hear what anyone says, but we laugh, and everyone tries to be merrier than the rest. Why, sometimes the time passes so quickly, that they are still here at half-past ten!"

"Half-past ten in the morning?"

"Why, no! in the evening. Are you mad?"

"Do you call that late?"

"I should say so! the custom is to go home at ten o'clock precisely."

"Great heaven! I am no longer surprised that your children wake you up at seven o'clock! But on Sundays?"

"Oh! on Sundays we meet at monsieur le maire's. There are always a lot of people there. He has a billiard table, and, besides that, the young people dance. You can judge for yourself what fun we have. That, my dear Eugène, is the way we employ the week. As you see, there is some new pleasure every day, and we have no time to be bored."

"You have no theatrical performances?"

"Very seldom; but we get along without them."

"No concerts?"

"Why, what about those we give among ourselves? And then, in fine weather, there are the drives about the neighborhood, which are beautiful: the little forest of La Rochette, Trois-Moulins, and a thousand delicious spots. And fishing and hunting, and the news of the town; the little intrigues that everybody knows about after a week, the quarrels, the gossip, the comments, the fashions, which we think about here even more than they do in Paris; and the parties, dinners, baptisms, weddings; ah! the weddings above all! they give us something to talk about for a month!--Oh! you'll see, my dear brother, that we have a much better time in the provinces than they do in Paris."

My sister did not interrupt her enumeration of the pleasures of provincial life until she saw her husband giving coffee to the little boys, when a slight discussion ensued.

"Why do you give those children coffee? it won't do them any good."

"Bah!"

"It excites them."

"Bah!"

"And then, they don't sleep at night."

"Bah! bah!"

"Oh! how you tire me with your _bah! bah!_ I tell you, I don't want them to drink it!"

"Just a drop."

"It makes no difference."

"It's three-fourths milk."

"If there were twice as much, it would make no difference.--Come here, messieurs, and don't drink any more."

"I want some more!"

"Here, my boy, drink this."

"Will you obey me this minute!"

"Come, come, let them alone."

"No, I don't want them to drink it."

And my sister seized the cup, her husband held fast to it, and the children squealed. Luckily, between them the cup was broken and the coffee spilled, which fact put an end to this scene of domestic bliss, to which I found it difficult to accustom myself. The day was employed in showing me the town and taking me to see my sister's intimate acquaintances. I let her take me wherever she wished; I was so complaisant and docile that she was enchanted. She found me much more staid and reasonable than at my last visit.

After dinner, Déneterre took me to play a game of pool at his café; then we went home to get my sister to go to a reception. It was Thursday, unluckily for me. I had fallen upon the ex-councillor's day, and I saw none but cold, forbidding faces, and stiff, formal figures. Fortunately, the guests did not arrive until half-past eight and left at a quarter to ten, so that the soirée lasted only an hour and a quarter; the first third was occupied in salutations and reverences, the second in exchanging commonplaces and nodding the head in assent, and the last in yawns, concealed with the hand, the handkerchief, or the snuffbox.

The next evening belonged to the elector; it compensated me to some extent for the boredom of the preceding one. I found there several pretty women and a little less formality and more merriment. In the course of a week I ran the whole gamut of receptions and knew the whole town. I was well received everywhere; I was rich and unmarried: that was more than was necessary to assure me a warm welcome.

I began to become accustomed to the conjugal discussions, and to the pranks of my nephews, who were little demons in very truth. I saw that, taking everything together, my sister and her husband were happy; in the finest weather of one's life storms may arise; a picture must have shadows to bring out the lights. Their little quarrels did not prevent their loving each other, and their children's defects were graces in their eyes. However, I hoped that, if I ever married, I should have fewer petty _discussions_ with my wife, and I resolved to bring up my children in an entirely different way; but perhaps I should have troubles which my sister and her husband had never known.

I had been in the province a fortnight. I cannot say that I enjoyed myself exactly, but at least I was not discontented. The novelty of the life, the original faces that I saw every night, my sister's affection and her husband's--all these served to divert my thoughts; time produced its inevitable effect, my melancholy disappeared, and I became what I used to be. However, I had not entirely forgotten Nicette; I felt that I still loved her; but when the thought of her came to my mind, I had the strength to put it aside, and I imposed silence on my heart.

I would have been glad to fall in love anew--were it only a caprice, one of those flames which used to set me on fire so quickly; perhaps that would cure me entirely. But long for it as I would, I could not compel any such feeling! I looked about me; I saw some good-looking women, some few faces formed to please; but I saw nobody who resembled Nicette.

XXIX

MADEMOISELLE PÉLAGIE.--A SCHEME TO MARRY ME

My sister, who was really a most excellent woman,--due allowance being made for her tendency to be a little obstinate,--was overjoyed that I had ceased to speak of returning to Paris. She had no mercy on herself in her endeavors to procure for me what she called new pleasures every day. She would have been so delighted to induce me to settle at Melun! From time to time, she would ask my opinion concerning the young women I had seen the night before; she would dilate in great detail upon the virtues, talents, and amiable qualities of each one of them; then she would extol the pleasures of wedded life, the joy of having children, which, however, did not prevent her shrieking after her boys the next moment, and disputing with her husband; but it was understood that those were among the joys of wedded life. Ah! my dear sister! I saw what you were driving at! you had gone back to your favorite idea; you were determined, in short, that I should do as others did, for that was your constant refrain. And then, to negotiate the marriage of one's brother is an affair of such vast importance in a small town!--What an exhaustless source of interviews, confidential communications, visits, parties, new dresses--and, therefore, of pleasure!

For some time I did not allow myself to be tempted. However, I was beginning to believe that one might as well do as others do, especially when one has lost that desire to flutter about the fair sex, that longing for every pretty woman, which is so natural to young men. There was only one for whom I had had any longing, for many weeks past--but she had deceived me, so I must needs forget her as well as the rest.

I had noticed for several days that my sister seemed even more content than usual; I often saw her whispering with Déneterre, who in the end always did what she wanted him to. They extolled still more warmly the joys of wedlock, but they said nothing more about any of the young women I had already seen; they evidently had some new hope; no doubt, I should soon learn what was in the wind.

"I shall try to make myself look very nice to-night," said Amélie one day. "You will go with me, won't you, dear Eugène? It's Madame Lépine's evening,--she was the elector's wife,--and they say there'll be a good many people there."

"But I seem to see the same persons every time."

"Ah! there'll be some new faces for you to-night; Madame de Pontchartrain has returned from her place in the country, and she will be there."

"Who is this Madame de Pontchartrain?"

"A most respectable person, who has an income of seven thousand francs and is seventy years old."

Very respectable, no doubt; but I could not see why I should be especially interested in Madame de Pontchartrain. Doubtless I should learn the answer to the enigma in the evening.

After dinner madame set about dressing. I had thought that Parisian women were coquettes, but since I had lived in the provinces I had learned to do justice to the belles of the capital, who passed two hours less before their mirrors than the beauties of a small town. Déneterre went off to play pool, and I walked in the garden while my sister was dressing; for the first time I was vexed by her slowness; I was in a hurry to arrive at Madame Lépine's--I, who ordinarily accompanied my sister solely to oblige her; but one sometimes has presentiments.

My sister was ready at last; Déneterre returned, and we started. We soon reached our destination; in a small town no two houses are far apart. We were announced in due form; for in the provinces you may not enter a salon in good society without being announced. I glanced around at the guests and saw no unfamiliar faces. I was almost angry; but while Madame Lépine was arranging the different games, I saw my sister go to her and heard her say:

"My brother won't play cards to-night; don't count on him for boston or reversis; he prefers the games."

I had not said anything of the sort to her; what did it mean, that she took that step without consulting me? I was just on the point of demanding an explanation, when the servant announced:

"Madame de Pontchartrain and her niece."

Aha! there was a niece! I began to understand. All eyes turned toward the door; I did like everybody else, and I saw a tall, thin, angular, yellow-skinned woman, who, despite her age, held herself very erect and seemed to have retained all the vivacity of youth; that was the aunt; let us say no more of her, but give our attention to the niece.

A flattering murmur ran about the salon as she entered. In truth, she was very pretty; of medium height, but well set up; and if she was a little stiff in her carriage, it was the result of her training. Her features were regular, complexion rosy, hair very beautiful, and eyes very large; as for their color, I could not as yet discover it, for she kept them fixed on the floor.

While Madame Lépine went to meet Madame de Pontchartrain and her niece, and all the young women whispered together as they scrutinized the newcomer, in whom they were undoubtedly seeking defects which they would speedily find,--for women are very skilful in detecting at a glance anything disadvantageous to their rivals,--I noticed that my sister looked furtively at me, trying to read in my eyes the impression that Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain had produced on my heart.

Ah! my poor Amélie! my heart was perfectly calm!--calm, do I say? alas, no! it was not calm as yet, but it was not that young woman who excited it. I wished that it were; she was very pretty; she might well attract any man, and I should have been delighted to love her.

The niece's name was Pélagie; I heard her called so by her aunt, who had taken her seat at a whist table from which she would not stir until it was time to go home. She urged her niece to enjoy herself, to be less shy; Pélagie blushed, and replied very gently:

"Yes, aunt."

The young woman seemed to be the personification of innocence.

Madame Lépine took possession of Mademoiselle Pélagie and led her to the circle formed for the games. I took my place by her side; I was curious to make the acquaintance of that young novice. I noticed that all the other young women watched me when they saw me place my chair beside Pélagie's; jealousy and spite were blazing in their eyes already! In the provinces, people are so quick to interpret the slightest action, the slightest indication of preference! But it mattered little to me what they thought; I was at liberty to do whatever I chose.

How uncharitable young women are to one another! Those who came regularly to the receptions enjoyed the bashfulness and embarrassment of the newcomer, and tried to intensify them by putting the most difficult questions to her in the games and making her do what was likely to confuse her most. I detected their petty malice, and I tried to put Mademoiselle Pélagie more at her ease. Once she attempted to thank me, and began a sentence the end of which I did not hear; but she raised her eyes an instant, and I was able to see that they were of a very tender shade of blue, and sweet in expression.

Madame Lépine, who was a very amiable person and did her best to entertain her guests, asked Madame de Pontchartrain if her niece was musical.

"Yes, madame," the old aunt replied; "Pélagie sings, and accompanies herself on the piano."

Immediately all the young women begged Pélagie to sing them something. They hoped to find food for criticism. Pélagie demurred very awkwardly; she glanced at her aunt, who gave her a look which clearly signified _sing_; whereupon she rose; I escorted her to the piano and offered to accompany her.

"No, monsieur," she said; "I will play my own accompaniment."

Surely any other woman would have thanked me in a different way; but Pélagie was innocence itself, and I saw that she had not learned to embellish her speeches.

She sang us an old ballad in six stanzas. The subject was love; but no one would have suspected it from listening to Pélagie, who imparted absolutely no expression to her voice or to the instrument. Any Parisian girl, even when fresh from her boarding school, would have played and sung much better than that; she would have rolled her eyes gracefully, whereas this one did not lift them from the keys; she would have put some soul into the words of love, whereas this one repeated them as coldly as possible. The comparison at the first blush seemed unfavorable to Pélagie; but when I reflected that that which prevented her from performing more brilliantly proved her innocence and virtue, I considered that her awkwardness was entirely to her credit.

My sister was enraptured. She saw me sit beside Pélagie, speak to her often, escort her to the piano, and take her back to her chair. That was more than was necessary to indicate the birth of love; and, of course, it would naturally end in marriage.

The party came to an end; everybody took their leave; but Amélie found an opportunity to present me to the great-aunt, who honored me with an almost affable glance. As I went downstairs, I found myself beside Pélagie; I could not do otherwise than offer her my hand. She looked at her aunt; a glance authorized her to accept, and she held out her hand as awkwardly as possible. I was careful to touch only the tips of her fingers; I had fallen in with the manners and customs of the town. However, the ladies lived only a few steps away; so we soon reached their house, where we left them after the three conventional bows; I observed, by the way, that Pélagie was very proficient in the matter of courtesies.

When we reached home, Amélie turned the conversation upon Mademoiselle Pélagie; I expected it, and I let her talk with her husband. They vied with each other in extolling her to the skies.

"She's a charming girl!"

"Upon my word, she's the prettiest girl in Melun!"

"And so perfectly well bred!"

"Wonderfully so! a strict education; but what manners! what decorous behavior in company!"

"She is innocence personified."

"She's an excellent musician."

"And no one would suspect it, because she makes no pretensions."

"Her aunt has no other heir; she's an excellent match!"

"The man who gets her won't make a bad speculation!"

"And he can be sure of his wife's virtue."

Annoyed by my silence, my sister addressed herself to me at last.

"Well, Eugène, tell us what you think of Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain."

"My dear girl, what do you expect me to add to your eulogies of her?"

"Aren't you of our opinion?"

"Why, yes, pretty nearly."

"Oh! you don't choose to admit it, but I saw well enough that you thought her pretty."

"Pretty; to be sure she is."

"And well bred."

"As to that, I think so, but----"

"In short, she pleased you, my dear brother?"

"Pleased me! oh! come now! I haven't said anything to prove----"

"But I can't see why it isn't perfectly natural. Surely your lady friends in Paris can't resemble the charming Pélagie?"

"Resemble her! Oh! as to that, I agree with you absolutely."

Amélie seemed quite content; in vain did I tell her that she was mistaken; she was persuaded that I was in love with Pélagie. Déneterre kept repeating that it would be an excellent match; and as I could not make them stop talking, I adopted the expedient of going to bed.

For several days nothing unusual disturbed the even tenor of life under my sister's roof. Every evening I went with her to some reception; for when I attempted to stay behind, she always found some way to make me do as she wished. So that I saw Mademoiselle Pélagie every evening, for she accompanied her aunt, who never failed to be on hand for her game of whist or reversis, which she even played in the morning, with three dowagers who had done nothing else for fifteen years, and in whose eyes their game was of such importance that one wept when her king was trumped, and another fell ill because she had discarded the knave of hearts.

Pélagie took part in the minor games, but she continued to be as shy and embarrassed as on the first day I saw her. As she was very pretty, the other young ladies had no mercy on her. Some of the young lady killers of the town undertook to make to her the pretty, gallant speeches which men of wit no longer venture to use, because they are too trite. But the wit of the dandies of Melun seemed to make no impression on Pélagie's mind; she listened very coldly to their compliments, and made no other reply than a low bow. The young men, vexed to produce so little effect, went elsewhere to play the butterfly. I alone remained true to Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain, and I alone obtained from her replies not quite so laconic. To be sure, I paid her no embarrassing compliments, and placed myself on her level by talking with her of the simplest subjects. She seemed a little less timid with me; she began to raise her eyes when she answered me; and twice I fancied that she actually smiled at me. Decidedly I was a favored mortal.

The novelty of this method of making love amused and distracted me. My heart was still perfectly tranquil in Pélagie's presence; and yet, since I had known her I had thought less of Nicette. The young innocent filled my thoughts, and, while I had no love for her, I liked to be with her; her pretty face did no harm, but her shyness and her artlessness attracted me even more.

My sister had ceased to talk about her, but I saw she was well pleased. The great-aunt treated me very affably; she interrupted her game sometimes to inquire for my health; which fact indicated the extraordinary favor with which she regarded me. The young ladies, it must be said, no longer evinced the same interest in me, manifested much less pleasure at my arrival, and did not make me pay a forfeit at the kissing stage of their games; but as I attached no value to the privilege, I paid no heed to their indifference. The mammas whispered to one another as they looked at me, while the papas smiled slyly at me; everything indicated that a great event was expected; I was perhaps the only one who gave no thought at all to the subject with which the whole town was agog.

Déneterre was the first to open my eyes.

"When's the wedding to be?" he asked me one evening, rubbing his hands.