Part 3

While the ladies were conversing, Dufresne continued his observations. He had noticed that Madame Germeuil was on very intimate terms with a young widow named Madame Dolban; thereafter this Madame Dolban became the object of Dufresne’s attentions, and he easily succeeded in making her acquaintance; for the widow was not at all pretty, and the homage of an attractive man was certain to seem all the more flattering to her because she rarely received anything of the sort.

When Dufresne wished to go, he fell into the trap which Madame Devaux had set for him: he did not find his hat until the moment when the mother and her three daughters were ready to go. It was impossible for him to avoid the duty. Moreover, Madame Dolban had refused his escort; but she had given him permission to call and pay her his respects, and that was all that he wanted. So the young man performed with sufficient good grace the service which was expected of him; he packed the Devaux family into a cab, seated himself on the front seat between Cleopatra and Césarine, and they started for Rue des Martyrs.

On the way, Dufresne was compelled to undergo a constant fire of epigrams discharged by the three girls against men who are not attentive, who do not do as other men do, who have wretched taste, who speak to ugly women and neglect pretty ones; and a thousand other sarcasms inspired by the irritation which it had caused them to see him devote himself to Madame Dolban.

Dufresne listened to all this very calmly, or, to speak more accurately, I believe that he did not listen to it at all; but he cared very little what the people thought who were chattering by his side, and his mind was too much preoccupied to heed the prattling of the three young women.

At last they reached the Rue des Martyrs. Dufresne left the Devaux family at their door; he received with a bow the curtsy of the mother, the cold salutation of Cleopatra, the curt good-evening of Césarine and the stifled sigh of Cornélie.

IV

PROJECTS OF BLISS

Adeline woke in Edouard’s arms; the young wife felt like an entirely different person by her husband’s side; one night of love is enough to establish a pleasing confidence, a loving intimacy, and to banish that feeling of awe, of timidity which naught but sensual enjoyment can dispel.

What delightful plans for the future, what a charming existence of unbroken happiness one devises, when, in the arms of the object of one’s affection, one abandons oneself without reserve to all the illusions which embellish the imagination of two young lovers.

Adeline, sweet, sensitive, and loving, was certain that she would always be happy so long as her Edouard loved her, and that her Edouard would always love her; she had no doubt of it, nor had he. It is not when a man has experienced for the first time all the joys of love in the arms of his wife, that he thinks upon the possibility of changing. Then he is sincere, he really feels all that he says, and doubtless he would keep all his promises, if the same joys could always cause the same pleasures.

It seems, in those moments of expansiveness which follow the manifestations of love, that the husband and wife were really born for each other. They have the same tastes, the same thoughts, the same desires; what one does, the other approves; the husband was just about to propose what the young wife has planned, they mutually divine each other’s thoughts, and it seems to them perfectly natural that they should have but one mind and but one will. Blessed concord! you would bestow the most perfect happiness, if you might only last forever!

“And so, my dear love,” said Edouard, kissing his wife’s pretty little hands, “we will pass the winter in Paris, and four months of warm weather in the country.”

“Yes, my dear, that is agreed.”

“But shall I keep my place in the department? That would prevent me from leaving the city.”

“You must not keep it! What is the use? We have fifteen thousand francs a year; is that not enough to be happy?”

“Oh! it is more than we need.”

“Besides, your place would keep you away from me all day and I don’t want that!”

“Dear Adeline, but your mother--what will she say if I give up my place?”

“Mamma has but one desire--to make me happy; she will approve our plans, for she has no more ambition than we have.”

“All right, then it is decided; I send in my resignation to-morrow.”

“Yes, dear.”

“And we will buy a small country house, simple, but in good taste, where we will live with your mother. Where shall we buy?”

“Where you please, my dear.”

“No, it is for you to decide.”

“You know that I am always of your opinion.”

“Very well, then we will visit the suburbs, we will read the advertisements, we will consult mamma.”

“That is right, my dear.”

“Shall we entertain much?”

“As you please, my dear.”

“My dear love, that is for you to decide.”

“Very well! then we will receive very few people, for company would prevent us from being together, from going to walk and to drive alone; and I feel that that would annoy me terribly!”

“How sweet you are!”

“We will receive just a few friends; mamma’s, for example.”

“Exactly. In the morning we will walk in the garden--for we must have a garden, mustn’t we?”

“Oh! yes, my dear! A big garden, with lots of shade,--and thickets!”

“Ah! you are already thinking of the thickets!”

“Does that offend you, monsieur?”

Edouard’s only reply was to kiss his wife, press her to his heart, receive her soft caresses, and--the conversation was interrupted for several minutes.

“So we will have a big garden with dense thickets,” said Edouard when they renewed the conversation.

“Yes, my dear,” replied Adeline, smiling, and lowering her eyes, still glistening with pleasure. “In the evening, we will walk about the neighborhood, and dance with the village people; or, if the weather is bad, we will play cards with some of the neighbors. Do you like that prospect?”

“Yes, my dear love, very much.”

The doting Adeline was always of her husband’s opinion; Edouard refused to have a will of his own; and they were so in accord that they vied with each other in seeing who should not be the master, and should not rule the house.

The young people had reached a very interesting article in the matter of conjugal happiness: they were thinking of the children they would have, of the education they would give them and of the professions which they would advise them to embrace, when there was a gentle tap at the door of their chamber. It was Madame Germeuil, come to embrace her daughter and to enjoy the happiness which she read in her eyes. A pleasant sight for a mother,--which reminded her of the same period in her own life.

Adeline blushed as she kissed her mother; the good woman informed them that breakfast was awaiting them, and breakfast is a very essential affair. The bride ate little; she was too preoccupied to have any appetite; the new ideas which thronged through her brain were enough to banish every other thought; but it was very different with the groom--he did not eat, he devoured! An additional proof this that men are less affectionate than women, since the same cause does not produce the same result.

During breakfast, the young people spoke to Madame Germeuil of their plans. The mother made a slight grimace when they told her that Edouard proposed to give up his place. She attempted to make some objections; she essayed to prove what a mistake that would be for Murville, who hoped to be promoted and to become a chief of bureau some day. The young man said nothing; perhaps he felt in his inmost heart that his mother-in-law was right; but Adeline entreated her mother with such grace, she kissed her so lovingly, and drew such a touching picture of the happiness they would all three enjoy, if they need never part; she praised so adroitly the pleasures of the country, their scheme of life, and all the attractions with which they would embellish her existence, that Madame Germeuil had not the courage to resist her daughter’s entreaties, and the plan was adopted.

“But,” said Madame Germeuil, “Edouard cannot remain idle. Idleness is a very dangerous business, and one which often leads us to do foolish things, which would never have occurred to us if we had been occupied.”

“Oh! never fear, mamma! Edouard will always have occupation! I myself will undertake to provide him with it! In the first place, all the details of our affairs;--he will have to look after the management of our little fortune; and then the care of our little country house, the time in my company and the walks we shall take----”

“But, my dear love, one cannot walk all the time.”

“Of course not! but then we will rest, or work in the garden. And our children, to whom you do not give a thought; shall we not have to bring them up, to look after their education, to guide their first steps?”

“Ah! you are thinking already of your children?”

“Yes, mamma; they come into our plans.”

“What a mad creature you are, my dear Adeline!”

“No, mamma; on the contrary, you will see that I shall be very sensible, and my husband too.”

Madame Germeuil did not seem altogether convinced of the wisdom of her daughter’s plans; but she proposed to keep constant watch upon the conduct of her two children, and she knew that Adeline, always given to building castles in Spain, would be the first to abandon her errors, if she should ever commit any. As to Edouard, he would do whatever they wished, so that it was only a question of giving him good advice, and of not following the example of his wife, who always agreed with him.

After breakfast they discussed the question where they would live. They had sent out for a copy of the _Petites-Affiches_; Adeline passed the paper to her husband, and Madame Germeuil was trying to remember in which direction the air was likely to be most healthy, when Murville uttered a cry of surprise and jumped up from his chair.

“What is it, my dear?” asked Adeline, amazed by her husband’s excitement.

“It is the very place,” said Edouard, still reading the paper; “at Villeneuve-Saint-Georges, the house looking on the fields, two floors, a large garden, a summer-house, a courtyard, an iron fence----”

“Well, my dear, is that what nearly made you upset the breakfast table?”

“Oh! my dear love! oh! my dear mamma--that house----”

“Do you know it?”

“Do I know it! It belonged to my father, and I passed a great part of my youth there.”

“Is it possible?”

“Misfortune compelled us to sell it, but I have always regretted it.”

“Why, my dear, you never mentioned it to us.”

“I didn’t know that it was for sale now.”

“It is settled, my dear, let us not look any farther; we have found what we want, the house where you passed a large part of your childhood! Dear Edouard! Oh! how we shall enjoy living there!--You agree, mamma, do you not?”

“Why, my child, if the house is not too dear----”

“Oh! it can’t be too dear; it is Edouard’s house; we shall be so happy there!”

“Villeneuve-Saint-Georges--yes, I believe that the air is very good there!”

“Certainly it’s delicious; let us start at once, dear.”

“But it is already late, my child, for you did not get up early; and if we should wait until to-morrow----”

“To-morrow! and suppose the house should be sold to-day? Ah! I should never get over it; nor Edouard either; he says nothing, but he too is crazy to start.”

“Very well, my children, since it will give you so much pleasure; but it is four leagues from here!”

“We have a good country cabriolet, and the horse has been resting for a fortnight; he will take us there very fast.”

“Where shall we dine?”

“At Villeneuve-Saint-Georges; there are some very good restaurants there, aren’t there, my dear?”

“Why, yes. Oh! we shall have no difficulty about getting dinner there.”

“And it will be dark when we come back.--You know, Adeline, that I don’t like to drive after dark.”

“Oh! Edouard will drive, mamma; you know what a prudent driver he is. Besides, the road is magnificent; isn’t it, my dear?”

“Why, yes; at all events, it was ten years ago.”

“You see, mamma, that there is no danger. Oh! say that you will go!”

“I must do whatever you want!”

“How good you are! I will run and put on my hat.”

Adeline ran to her dressing-room, Edouard told old Raymond, their servant, to put the horse in the cabriolet. Madame Germeuil prepared for the drive, and Marie, the maid-servant of the new household, was grieved to learn that they would not taste the dainty dinner which she had prepared for the day after the wedding.

The young wife was ready first; a woman takes little time over her toilet when she is certain to please; doubtless that is why old coquettes pass two hours in front of the mirror. Adeline wore a simple muslin dress, with a belt about the shapeliest waist imaginable; a straw hat, not overladen with feathers and flowers, and a light shawl thrown carelessly over her shoulders; in that unpretentious costume Adeline was charming; everything about her was attractive; every feature was instinct with love and happiness; and pleasure makes a pretty woman even prettier.

Edouard gazed at his wife in rapture, and Madame Germeuil looked upon her daughter with pride; Adeline kissed them both and took her mother’s hand to make her go downstairs at once; the young woman was eager to be gone, and to see the country house where her Edouard was brought up. He was no less desirous to revisit the scenes which had witnessed his childish sports. At last the mother was seated on the back seat of the carriage, with Adeline by her side; Edouard took the reins, and they started for Villeneuve-Saint-Georges.

V

THE FACE WITH MOUSTACHES

Edouard drove the horse at a fast pace, and they reached the village in a short time. When they had passed through the main street, and turned in the direction of the country, they discovered the house which they were anxious to see; thereupon Adeline leaped for joy, and took off her hat so that she could see better; Edouard urged the horse more eagerly, and Madame Germeuil shrieked, saying that they would be overturned.

At last the cabriolet stopped in front of the gate which gave admission to the courtyard.

“This is the place, this is the very place,” said Edouard, leaping to the ground; “oh! there is no mistake. I recognize the gate, the courtyard, and even this bell. It’s the same one that was here in my time. And there is the sign saying that the house is for sale.”

While he was examining with emotion the outside of the house, Adeline assisted her mother from the carriage; they fastened the horse, and then entered the courtyard, for the gate was not locked.

“Oh! how I shall enjoy myself here!” said Adeline, glancing about with a satisfied expression; “isn’t this house fascinating, mamma?”

“But, one moment, my child; we have seen nothing as yet.”

A tall peasant came out of a room on the ground floor, followed by an enormous dog.

“What do you want?” he said, scrutinizing them surlily enough.

“We want to see this house,” Edouard replied.

“All right,” muttered the concierge between his teeth; “come with me, and I will take you to my master.”

Edouard, with his wife and Madame Germeuil, followed their conductor, who ascended a staircase and showed them into a dining-room on the first floor, where he left them, to go to summon his master.

Soon a shrill little voice arose in the room which the concierge had entered, and our travellers heard this colloquy:

“What do you want of me, Pierre?”

“Some one has come to buy the house, monsieur.”

“Have you come again to disturb me to no purpose, and to bring me some boorish fellow, as you did just now?”

“Oh! no, monsieur! these folks look like swells!”

“That devilish fellow put me into a terrible temper! I shall be sick, I am sure!”

“I tell you, monsieur, that these folks have a cabriolet.”

“Oh! that’s different! I’ll go and speak to them.”

Madame Germeuil and her children were wondering what they should think of what they had heard, when the door of the adjoining room opened, and a short, thin, yellow, wrinkled man, in dressing gown and nightcap appeared and saluted his visitors with an air which he tried in vain to make amiable.

“We wish to examine this house,” said Edouard; “not that I do not know it very well; but these ladies would be very glad to see it.”

“It is very strange,” said the little man, glancing at the concierge; “everybody knows my house!--And is it your purpose to buy it?”

“Why, to be sure, if the price suits us.”

“In that case, I will show you around myself.”

“What an original creature!” whispered Adeline to her husband; “I will bet that it is some old money-lender, who went into retirement here, and can’t resist the desire to do business in the capital again.”

They went over the house from the ground floor to the attic; the little man spared them nothing, and Edouard, who was very glad to see his former home once more, listened patiently to all the details which the old fellow gave them concerning the advantages of his abode.

From time to time, our young man glanced at his wife and smiled.

“Yes,” he said as he entered each room, “I recognize this room, this closet, these wardrobes.”

Thereupon the old gentleman would glance at his servant and smile in his turn: they seemed to understand each other.

“So you used to live here, did you, monsieur?” the master of the house asked him.

“Yes, monsieur, yes, I passed a large part of my youth here.”

“This is mighty queer!” muttered the concierge.

“This is surprising!” said the little proprietor to himself.

Madame Germeuil considered the house convenient and the air good. Adeline was enchanted. Edouard asked permission to inspect the garden; the little man apologized for not accompanying them, for he was tired already; he asked them to follow the concierge, and the young people were not at all sorry to be rid of him for a moment.

The peasant walked ahead; Madame Germeuil followed him, and Adeline and Edouard brought up the rear, hand in hand. Edouard called his wife’s attention to all the spots which reminded him of some period of his life.

“This is the place,” said Edouard, “where I used to read with my father; it was on this path that my Brother Jacques used to like to run about and climb these fine apricot trees.”

“Poor Brother Jacques! you have never heard from him?”

“No! Oh! he died in some foreign country! Otherwise he would have returned, he would have tried to see our parents again.”

“That,” said Madame Germeuil, “is what comes of not watching over children! Perhaps he came to a bad end.”

Edouard made no reply; the memory of his brother always made him sad and thoughtful; he was almost persuaded that poor Brother Jacques was no more, and perhaps his self-esteem preferred to nourish that idea, in order to banish those which suggested that Jacques might be wandering about, wretched and debased. It was especially since his marriage with Adeline that Edouard had often thought with dread of meeting his brother amid the multitude of unfortunate wretches; he thought that that might injure him in the estimation of Madame Germeuil; and whenever a beggar of about his brother’s age stopped in front of Edouard, he felt the blood rise to his cheeks and he walked rapidly away, without glancing at the poor devil who begged of him, for fear of recognizing his Brother Jacques in him. And yet Edouard was not heartless; he would have shrunk from turning his back upon his brother, and he dreaded to find him in a degraded condition. That is how men are constituted; their infernal self-esteem often stifles the most generous sentiments; a man blushes for his brother, or his sister! Indeed, there are some who blush for their father or mother; such people apparently think that they are not sufficiently estimable in themselves to do without a genealogical tree.

But let us return to our young bride and groom, who investigated every nook and corner of the garden, and smiled and squeezed each other’s hands as they passed a dark grotto, or a dense clump of shrubbery. The concierge stopped for a moment to buckle his dog’s collar; Madame Germeuil and her children walked on. They reached the end of the garden, on that side which adjoined the open country and was surrounded by a very high wall; but an opening had been made for the convenience of the tenants, and the gate which closed that opening was covered with boards, so that people who were passing could not look into the garden.

But these boards were half rotten and had fallen away in places; and when the visitors passed the gate, they saw a man’s face against the iron bars, gazing earnestly into the garden, through a place where the boards were broken.

Madame Germeuil could not restrain a cry of surprise; Adeline was conscious of a secret thrill of emotion, and Edouard himself was moved at the sight of that face which he did not expect to find there.

The features of the man who was gazing into the garden were in fact calculated to cause a sort of terror at a first glance; black eyes, an olive-brown complexion, heavy moustaches, and a scar which started from the left eyebrow and extended across the forehead, all these imparted to the face a savage aspect which did not prepossess one in favor of the man who bore it.

“Ah! mon Dieu! what on earth is that?” said Madame Germeuil, suddenly stopping.

“Why, it is a man who is amusing himself looking through this gate,” replied Edouard, gazing at the stranger, who did not move but continued to examine the garden.

“I am almost afraid,” said Adeline under her breath.

“Almost, my dear child! you are very lucky! For my own part, I admit that I do not feel comfortable yet.”

As Madame Germeuil spoke, she walked away from the gate and moved closer to her son-in-law.

“What children you are, mesdames! What is there surprising in the fact that a man as he passes a garden which looks like a fine one should amuse himself by examining it for a moment? We have done that twenty times!”

“Yes, no doubt. But we haven’t faces with moustaches like that, well calculated to make any one shudder! Just look! he doesn’t move in the least! He doesn’t seem to pay the slightest attention to us.”

At that moment the concierge joined the party. As he approached the gate opening into the fields, he saw the face which had frightened the ladies. Thereupon he made a very pronounced grimace, and muttered:

“Still here! so that infernal man won’t go away, it seems!”

The stranger looked up at the concierge, and the ladies read in the glance that he cast at the peasant an expression of wrath and contempt. Then, after examining for a moment the other persons in the garden, he drew back his head from the bars and disappeared.

“I would like right well to know who that man is,” said Adeline, looking at her husband.

“Faith! I augur no good for him,” said Madame Germeuil, who breathed more freely since the face had withdrawn from the gate.

“That man looked as if he had evil intentions, did he not, Edouard?”

“Oh! my dear mamma, I don’t go as far as you do! If we had seen the whole man, perhaps his face would have seemed less strange than it did above those old boards.”

“My husband is right, mamma; I think that the way in which we look at things depends upon the situation in which they strike our eyes at first. A man clothed in rags often arouses our suspicions; if he should appear before us well-dressed, we should have no feeling of dread at his aspect. Darkness, silence, moonlight, and the shadows thrown upon objects, all these conditions change our way of seeing things and make our imagination work very rapidly.”

“You may say whatever you please, my dear girl, but that face was not the face of a man looking into a garden from mere curiosity.”

“That may be, but I should have liked to see this stranger’s figure.”

“Parbleu!” said the concierge, “you wouldn’t have seen anything very fine, I assure you.”