Part 12

The term marked by nature approached. Edouard realized that that was no time to change his abode, so he said no more of his plans, and Adeline thought that he had abandoned them. Soon she brought into the world a pretty little girl, a faithful image of her mother’s charms. Edouard desired that Dufresne should be his child’s godfather, but Madame Germeuil refused him as an associate; so it was necessary to give way, and to take in his place an old annuitant, most upright, orderly and methodical, who gave the godmother three boxes of bonbons and two pairs of gloves, and promised to dine every week with the young mother, in order to learn how his goddaughter was coming on.

Edouard did not say a word, but he awaited his wife’s entire recovery before putting his plans into execution; and he secretly hoped that Madame Germeuil would persist in her refusal to change her lodgings, in order that he might no longer have beneath his roof a mother-in-law whose advice and reproaches were beginning to be distasteful to him.

Adeline was engrossed by the joy of being a mother; she nursed her child, in spite of all that Edouard could say to prove that that was not done in good society; but in that matter Adeline resisted her husband, the mother-love carried the day, and that new sentiment abated in some degree the force of the sentiment which hitherto had reigned despotically in her heart.

For some time Madame Dolban had been a less frequent visitor at the Murville house; Adeline and her mother did not know the reason, but they were not sorry to be less often in the company of Dufresne, who ordinarily accompanied Madame Dolban. They thought that if he saw him less often, Edouard would pay less heed to the new dreams of wealth which had been suggested to him by that young man.

The ladies were mistaken; Dufresne was very careful not to neglect Murville, with whose character he was now perfectly acquainted. He knew all that he could hope to gain by his acquaintance. He had, moreover, extensive projects. Which events will soon place us in a position to judge, no doubt. But like a clever man, Dufresne waited until the propitious moment came to carry out his plans. He saw that Madame Germeuil did not like him; the presence of Adeline’s mother interfered with his designs; so he tried shrewdly to sow discord between her and her son-in-law; he found a way of separating them, by suggesting to Edouard to find a larger apartment in order to give handsome parties. The two friends met everyday, and passed a large part of the morning together; and when Murville left the house at night, it was to go to other houses where Dufresne had agreed to meet him. Edouard could not do without his friend, he was unwilling to do anything without consulting him, to undertake anything until he had seen him. But if his wife gave him advice, if his mother-in-law ventured to make a remonstrance, Edouard lost his temper, flew into a rage, and insisted that he was the master, whereas he was simply the plaything of the man who had the art to flatter his tastes. A curious character! naturally weak, unreasonably obstinate, intending to be firm and not to allow himself to be guided by others, Edouard abandoned himself to the will of the man who secretly advised him to be persevering and determined in his plans, because he was well aware that that was the way to speak to a weak man who in his eyes was simply a mass of ductile matter, to which he could give whatever shape he chose.

Adeline did not suffer from the new duties to which she devoted herself; on the contrary, her features seemed even lovelier, her eyes more melting, her bearing more graceful; she was fascinating when she held her child in her arms, and when she went out in the morning to give her a breath of air. Another than Murville would have considered Adeline improved; but a husband rarely makes such observations, he sees only the contrary. In default of him, others notice his wife’s beauty, admire what he does not see, praise what he has ceased to praise, and rave over what he neglects; that is something that husbands do not think about, that they do not trouble themselves about at all, and yet it is the thing which plays them such cruel tricks.

One man observed what Edouard no longer observed; he followed Adeline, without her knowledge, he admired her charms, he divined those which he could not see and devoured with his eyes all that he could see. A violent passion had assumed the mastery of him; he was simply waiting for a favorable moment to try to induce her to share his passion. However, there was very little hope that he could win her love, and he knew it. Adeline was virtue personified; she was absolutely devoted to her husband and to her child. But there was no obstacle, no barrier, that the man who adored her had not resolved to overturn. Nothing can check the impetuous torrent swelled by heavy rains; nothing could discourage his love if we may thus name the unbridled desires, the delirium, the jealousy that for a long time had filled his heart. He had decided to attempt everything, to undertake everything, to dare everything, in order to triumph over Adeline; his passion, long concealed, was only the more violent on that account; the fire which devoured him was likely to consume everything when it should break forth. But who was this mysterious man, whose love thus far had remained a secret? You know him, reader, and I will wager that you have already guessed his name.

Edouard, who had plunged deeper than ever into business, of which he understood nothing, but which seemed to him all the more attractive on that account,--Edouard hired a handsome house, a fashionable carriage, bought magnificent furniture of the latest style, furnished a very elaborate office, with shelves on all sides, on which were pasteboard boxes, empty to be sure, but soon to contain the documents relating to the transactions which could not fail to come to his hands in a multitude. Pending their arrival, our man hired a clerk, who passed his time reading the _Gazette_ and cutting quill pens.

Adeline was installed in her new abode. She looked at everything, sighed and held her peace. Madame Germeuil, on the contrary, burst forth into reproaches, and had a violent scene with her son-in-law. She predicted that he would ruin himself. Edouard was vexed and lost his temper, and a rupture followed. Madame Germeuil left her son-in-law’s house, swearing never to see him again; she refused to be moved by her daughter’s tears, tears for which the good woman blamed herself in the depths of her heart; she realized that it would have been better to give her daughter to a man of firm but sensible character than to a weak, irresolute creature, who had not enough intelligence to admit his failings, and too much obstinacy to repair them. But the harm was done.

After Madame Germeuil’s departure there was another scene between the husband and the wife; for Adeline could not forbear to scold her husband in her turn, and she begged him to go after her mother and bring her back. He was obstinate; he persisted in refusing to attempt a reconciliation, and he informed his wife that he was determined to do as he chose, that all remonstrance would be fruitless thenceforth and would not change his line of conduct, in which he did not propose to be guided by women.

Thus the splendid abode of the new business agent was christened by tears; but Murville no longer paid any heed to such trifles; he had matters of great importance in his head. Dufresne was to put him in the way of earning fifty thousand francs with a wealthy shipowner who had just arrived in Paris and was seeking investments for his money, with which he did not know what to do. In order to become acquainted with that invaluable man, it was necessary to give an evening party, a ball, to which he would be brought by a third person. The ball was decided upon; and in accordance with his friend’s advice, Edouard made the most elaborate preparations for a function which was to give him an established position in society. To be sure, the expenses of that function would be enormous. The twelve thousand francs earned some time before were largely spent; he had had to encroach upon his income to buy the furniture and to decorate his house; but all that was nothing at all; in order to reap, one must sow,--that was Dufresne’s maxim. And his example proved that it worked well with him; never had he seemed more fortunate, more magnificent, more at his ease. He had a cabriolet, a groom, and such diamonds! Therefore he must be doing an excellent business.

XVII

A GRAND PARTY.--A DECLARATION OF LOVE

“My dear love,” said Edouard to his wife, one morning, “I am going to give a party to-morrow--a ball; you must prepare to do the honors.”

“You are going to give a party--to whom, pray? Can it be that you are reconciled with mamma?”

“Who is talking about your mother? She is a woman who insists upon meddling in affairs which she does not understand, and who, because her tastes lead her to live in a narrow circle, wishes also to prevent us from going out of it. You must agree that that is utterly absurd. However, when I have fifty thousand francs a year, I fancy that she will forgive me for not listening to her advice.”

“That will not be very soon, I take it!”

“Sooner than you think, madame, and I act accordingly.”

“And is that the reason that you are giving a party?”

“Exactly.”

“Whom do you expect to have?”

“Oh! never fear, we shall have lots of people. In the first place, we must, for it is the fashion now; if one is not crowded and pushed about in a salon, he does not think that he has enjoyed himself.”

“Oh! what nonsense, my dear! Who told you that?”

“It is not nonsense, madame. I go into society while you are taking care of your daughter.”

“Oh! I am well aware that you no longer stay with me.”

“That is necessary; I must show myself in society; that is the place where a man makes acquaintances.”

“Disastrous ones, sometimes!”

“Oh! mon Dieu! I am not a child; I know with whom I am dealing! Why, to hear you and your mother talk, anyone would think that I am not capable of taking care of myself.

“I never said that, my dear; but I cannot help regretting the time when I alone was sufficient for your enjoyment; then you passed all your time with me,--you did not go into society.--Well! were you not happy?”

“To be sure I was.”

“Then why have you changed your mode of life?”

“Why? why? That is a strange question to ask me! a man cannot always be making love to his wife, can he?”

“Oh! I have discovered that! But I did not expect to learn it after only a year of married life.”

“Well, well! are you going to begin your reproaches again? Women are never reasonable.”

“I am not reproaching you, my dear; give parties, as that gives you pleasure; I shall never object.”

“You are a love; you are not obstinate like your mother; and I tell you again that this is all for our good. So make the necessary preparations. I have already ordered and arranged everything, and all that you will have to do will be to see that my orders are carried out.”

“Very well. But what shall I say to people whom I do not know?”

“Oh! don’t let that trouble you! You just bow and smile to every one. With your grace and your wit you will always be fascinating.”

“I would like to be fascinating to you alone.”

“Do you mean that I am unfaithful to you? I am really so good----”

“That some day you will be laughed at for it.”

“Never fear, I love you only.--I am going to send a few more invitations; prepare for our party.”

Edouard kissed his wife and left her. Adeline, in order to please him, inquired about what was to be done on the following day; she was alarmed at the magnitude of the expense, but it was too late to oppose it. After giving her orders, the young wife went to see her mother. It was on Madame Germeuil’s bosom that she poured out her grief, though she concealed much of it, in order not to make her mother more bitter against her husband.

“Oh!” said Adeline, “so long as he is faithful to me, I shall have nothing to complain of. I can forgive him everything except indifference, which I absolutely could not endure.”

The next day, at daybreak, everything was in confusion in the Murville establishment. The servants could not attend to the innumerable preparations which were under way on every side; workmen came to put carpets and chandeliers in place and vases of flowers along the stair-rails. The mirror-maker’s apprentices, upholsterers, florists and decorators filled the salons, and got in the way of the footmen and other servants. Soon the caterers arrived, the pastry cooks and the ice dealer’s men, who took possession of the servants’ quarters and began the decoration of the sideboards, which were to be furnished in the evening in the most sumptuous way, and to offer everything which could fascinate the eyes, the nose and the palate at once. Adeline attempted to pass through several rooms to her husband’s office; she was bewildered by the uproar, the shouts, the tumult; she could not recognize her own apartments. At last she spied Edouard walking about the salons, and watching with a self-satisfied air the preparations for the party.

“Well, my dear love,” he said to his wife as soon as he caught sight of her, “what do you think of all this?”

“That I do not understand how anyone can take so much trouble to entertain people whom one does not know, and who feel no obligation for the pains which one takes to treat them so handsomely.”

“But, my dear love, you must remember that a man does all this for his reputation’s sake. Parbleu! I care nothing at all for the people whom I entertain; I am not at all anxious for their friendship, but I am anxious that people should say in society: ‘Monsieur Murville’s party was delightful, nothing was lacking; and everything was in the very best style. That function must have cost a tremendous sum!’--You will agree that that will do me credit; people will assume that I have a considerable fortune, and that I have more business than I desire.--Be sure to dress handsomely, and wear your diamonds; they are not so fine as I wish they were, but before long I hope to make you a present of a superb string of them.”

“My dear, you know perfectly well that I do not want anything of that kind; your love alone----”

“It is getting late; go and dress.”

The time fixed for the party arrived; between nine and ten o’clock, the carriages and the pedestrians--for some people always come on foot, even to the largest balls--the courtyard of Murville’s house in swarms. They crowded under the porte cochère; the coachmen insulted one another and disputed for precedence; the young women, wrapped in their pelisses or cloaks, jumped lightly to the landing, and waited, one for her mother, another for her husband, to take her up to the salons. The officious young man mounted the stairs gracefully, his body enveloped in an ample cloak lined with crimson velvet, which concealed almost the whole of his face, leaving only the end of his nose visible; he offered his hand to a young lady whose fear of the horses standing in the courtyard had separated her from her escort. The young gallant in the cloak saw only a pair of very expressive eyes and a few curls, for all the rest was concealed under the hood of a pelisse; but he saw enough to divine lovely features and the form of a nymph. He gently pressed the hand which she entrusted to him; he engaged his fair unknown for the first quadrille, and his hopes were aroused before he had even entered the reception room. That room was crowded; in one corner the ladies arranged their dresses, gave a last glance to their finery, which had become rumpled in the carriage; farther on, in a less brilliantly lighted spot, a number of economical bank clerks took slippers from their pockets and put them on in place of their shoes, which they carefully wrapped in large pieces of paper with their gaiters, and placed them under some heavy piece of furniture which was not likely to be moved. After effecting this slight change of costume, they carefully pulled their ruffs from their waistcoats, retied their cravats, passed their hands through their hair, rumpling it or smoothing it according as their style of beauty required, and then, drawing themselves up proudly, entered the salon with an air of impertinence and conceit which was calculated to persuade all the other guests that they had come in a tilbury.

The salon was already filled with women of all ages; for by the face only, not by the dress, could the mother be distinguished from the daughter, the aunt from the niece. The men strolled about, eyeglass in hand, and despite that little accessory, almost put their noses into the ladies’ faces, as they stopped in front of them, making wry faces when one was not to their liking; while the ladies themselves smiled at them instead of spitting in their faces as their insolent manner of staring at them well deserved. Soon the crowd became so large that one could hardly move. That was the delightful moment; a young exquisite halted in front of a girl seated beside her mother, and made the most indecent gestures, which the poor child avoided only by keeping her own eyes constantly on the floor, which prevented her from enjoying the spectacle of the ball; but the young man was persistent; he did not stir from in front of her, and had the effrontery to interpret in his favor the blush which covered the brow of her whom he deigned to notice. A few steps away, another young exquisite pointed out to four or five of his friends a pretty woman whose husband stood nearby; he told them in confidence that she had been his mistress for a week; his friends congratulated him, and asked him for details concerning the lady’s secret charms and her way of making love; he replied, laughing heartily, and gesticulating like one possessed, which could not fail to attract every eye, and to arouse the curiosity of those who did not hear him. Luckily the husband was of the latter number; but he desired to know what was being said, so he approached and enquired:

“What are you laughing at so loudly, gentlemen?”

“Oh! it was nothing, a joke he was telling us.”

“Some rascality, I will wager; you are sad rakes!”

“You will find out later what it was.”

And the young men dispersed, laughing louder than ever; the husband laughed with them; he did not know why, but he wanted to seem to be informed.

The signal to begin the dance was given, and an excellent orchestra, directed by Collinet, played several delightful quadrilles, which invited one to dance; fascinating tunes, selected from the masterpieces of the great masters, are now used as the theme and motif of a _poule_, _a trénis_, or a _pantalon_. How can one resist the temptation, when one has the opportunity to execute a pirouette, a _balancé_, or an _entre-chat_ to passages from Rossini, Mozart, or Boieldieu? The ear is no less charmed by the method of execution; modern quadrilles are little concerts for wind and stringed instruments; it requires talent to play them. We have left to the poor blind men such tunes as the Monaco, the Périgourdine and the Furstemberg; we need artistes to play the quadrilles of Weber, Collinet, Rubner, etc.

There was little room; the guests trod on one another’s feet, and jostled one another; but they danced, and that was the essential thing; what joy for the young woman who desires to display her charms, and for the woman on the decline who flatters herself that she is still very light on her feet!

Those who were not attracted by the dancing and the music took their places at an écarté table; there they abandoned themselves to their passion for gambling, awaiting a favorable stroke of luck; they tried to fathom the play of their opponents, to read upon their faces what cards they had in their hands. They forgot their wives or their daughters; and very frequently those ladies in the salon forgot those who were at the écarté table.

The bets opened and soon became very considerable; young men, who should have paid no heed to aught except the ladies and the dance, waited anxiously to see if their adversary would turn a king; their blood boiled; the sight of gold, the hope of winning, led them on; and more than one, who walked away from the tables with empty pockets, would refuse the next day to give money to his tailor or his bootmaker; while our economical friends of the shoes and the gaiters, who had allowed themselves to be led astray by example, observed to one another as they took off their slippers, that they would have done better to hire a cab than to bet or play écarté.

Others had recourse to the sideboard for consolation and stuffed themselves with pastry and refreshments; the greatest glutton took the most delicate sweetmeats, on the pretext that he was taking them to the ladies. What horrible waste there is in such mobs! Plates overturned, one dish cast aside to take another, of which three-quarters is left; the creams that the guests snatch from one another; the bonbons that disappear before one has time to take one;--such is the ordinary course of collations at large parties; the sideboard is always being pillaged, and the young men who surround it act as if they had eaten nothing for a week. What an extraordinary way for people in good society to behave!

Adeline tried to discover some acquaintance amid the crowd and the tumult; but most of the faces were unknown to her. Weary of listening to insipid or exaggerated compliments, addressed to her by men whom she did not know, and disgusted at being stared at through the eyeglasses of these men, the young woman seized a moment when everybody was busy according to his or her taste, to go to her room, to make sure that her daughter was asleep, and to enjoy, by embracing her, the only pleasure that that evening could afford her.

To reach the room where her little Ermance was in bed, Adeline was obliged to leave her guests altogether, for she had determined that her child should not be awakened by the noise; she passed through several half-lighted rooms and finally reached her daughter’s side; she paused by the cradle and gazed at Ermance, who was sleeping peacefully. With her mind more at ease, Adeline was going back to her guests; but, as she entered a dimly-lighted boudoir which adjoined her daughter’s bedroom, she saw some one gliding along the wall. A feeling of alarm took possession of her.

“Who is there?” she said instantly.

“Don’t be afraid, madame; I am distressed to have taken you so by surprise.”

Adeline recovered herself, for she recognized Dufresne’s voice, and asked: “What are you seeking here?”

“The noise and heat of the salon made me feel uncomfortable; I was very glad to be able to come away and rest for a moment.”

Adeline went into the next room for a lamp, and brought it into the room where Dufresne had remained; he followed her every movement with his eyes, and seemed intensely agitated.

“If you are not feeling well, I will go and bring you something.”

“Oh, no! stay, madame, I beg you; your presence is a hundred times more beneficial to me.”

Dufresne had taken Adeline’s hand; she, amazed by the extraordinary tone and by the fire with which he addressed her, did not know what reply to make, but stood before him sorely embarrassed. Dufresne squeezed violently the hand that he held in his. Adeline withdrew it at once in dismay, and started to leave the room, but he stood in front of her and stopped her.

“What do you want of me?” she said to him, her voice trembling with a feeling of terror she could not explain.

“That you should listen to me, madame, that you should deign to listen to me.”

“What have you to say to me, pray, that demands so much mystery? We might talk quite as well in the salon.”