Part 22

"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.