THE WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT

VOLUME III

The Viaticum and Other Stories

National Library Company New YorkCopyright, 1909, by Bigelow, Smith & Co. 

CONTENTS

 THE VIATICUM

 THE RELICS

 THE THIEF

 A RUPTURE

 A USEFUL HOUSE

 THE ACCENT

 GHOSTS

 CRASH

 AN HONEST IDEAL

 STABLE PERFUME

 THE ILL-OMENED GROOM

 AN EXOTIC PRINCE

 VIRTUE IN THE BALLET

 IN HIS SWEETHEART'S LIVERY

 DELILA

 A MESALLIANCE

 BERTHA

 ABANDONED

 A NIGHT IN WHITECHAPEL

 COUNTESS SATAN

 KIND GIRLS

 PROFITABLE BUSINESS

 VIOLATED

 JEROBOAM

 THE LOG

 MARGOT'S TAPERS

 CAUGHT IN THE VERY ACT

 THE CONFESSION

 WAS IT A DREAM

 THE LAST STEP

 THE WILL

 A COUNTRY EXCURSION

 THE LANCER'S WIFE

 THE COLONEL'S IDEAS

 ONE EVENING

 THE HERMAPHRODITE

 MARROCA

 AN ARTIFICE

 THE ASSIGNATION

 AN ADVENTURE

 THE DOUBLE PINS

 UNDER THE YOKE

 THE REAL ONE AND THE OTHER

 THE UPSTART

 THE CARTER'S WENCH

 THE MARQUIS

 THE BED

 AN ADVENTURE IN PARIS

 MADAME BAPTISTE

 HAPPINESS

THE VIATICUM

"After all, " Count d'Avorsy said, stirring his tea with the slowmovements of a prelate, "what truth was there in anything that was saidat Court, almost without any restraint, and did the Empress, whosebeauty has been ruined by some secret grief, who will no longer seeanyone and who soothes her continual mental weariness by some journeyswithout an object and without a rest, in foggy and melancholy islands, and did she really forget Caesar's wife ought not even to be suspected, did she really give herself to that strange and attractive corrupter, Ladislas Ferkoz?"

The bright night seemed to be scattering handfuls of stars into theplacid sea, which was as calm as a blue pond, slumbering in the depthsof a forest. Among the tall climbing roses, which hung a mantle ofyellow flowers to the fretted baluster of the terrace, there stood outin the distance the illuminated fronts of the hotels and villas, andoccasionally women's laughter was heard above the dull, monotonous soundof surf and the noise of the fog-horns. 

Then Captain Sigmund Oroshaz, whose sad and pensive face of a soldierwho has seen too much slaughter and too many charnel houses, was markedby a large scar, raised his head and said in a grave, haughty voice:

"Nobody has lied in accusing Maria-Gloriosa of adultery, and nobody hascalumniated the Empress and her minister, whom God has damned in theother world. Ladislas Ferkoz was his sovereign's lover until he died, and made his august master ridiculous and almost odious, for the man, nomatter who he be, who allows himself to be flouted by a creature who isunworthy of bearing his name and of sharing his bread; who puts up withsuch disgrace, who does not crush the guilty couple with all the weightof his power, is not worth pity, nor does he deserve to be spared themockery. And if I affirm that so harshly, my dear Count--although yearsand years have passed since the sponge passed over that old story--thereason is that I saw the last chapter of it, quite in spite of myself, however, for I was the officer who was on duty at the palace, andobliged to obey orders, just as if I had been on the field ofbattle--and on that day I was on duty near Maria-Gloriosa. "

Madame de Laumières, who had begun an animated conversation oncrinolines, admist the fragrant odor of Russian cigarettes, and who wasmaking fun of the striking toilets, with which she had amused herself byscanning through her opera glass a few hours previously at the races, stopped, for even when she was talking most volubly she always kept herears open to hear what was being said around her, and as her curiositywas aroused, she interrupted Sigmund Oroshaz. 

"Ah! Monsieur, " she said, "you are not going to leave our curiosityunsatisfied.... A story about the Empress puts all our scandals on thebeach, and all our questions of dress into the shade, and, I am sure, "she added with a smile at the corners of her mouth, "that even ourfriend, Madame d'Ormonde will leave off flirting with Monsieur LeBrassard to listen to you. "

Captain Oroshaz continued, with his large blue eyes full ofrecollections:

"It was in the middle of a grand ball that the Emperor was giving on theoccasion of some family anniversary, though I forget exactly what, andwhere Maria-Gloriosa, who was in great grief, as she had heard that herlover was ill and his life almost despaired of, far from her, was goingabout with her face as pale as that of _Our Lady of Sorrows_, seemed tobe a soul in affliction, appeared to be ashamed of her bare shoulders, as if she were being made a parade of in the light, while he, the adoredof her heart, was lying on a bed of sickness, getting weaker everymoment, longing for her and perhaps calling for her in his distress. About midnight, when the violins were striking up the quadrille, whichthe Emperor was to dance with the wife of the French Ambassador, one ofthe ladies of honor, Countess Szegedin, went up to the Empress, andwhispered a few words to her, in a very low voice. Maria-Gloriosa grewstill paler, but mastered her emotion and waited until the end of thelast figure. Then, however, she could not restrain herself any longer, and even without giving any pretext for running away in such a manner, and leaning on the arm of her lady of honor, she made her way throughthe crowd as if she were in a dream and went to her own apartments. Itold you that I was on duty that evening at the door of her rooms, andaccording to etiquette, I was going to salute her respectfully, but shedid not give me time. 

"'Captain, ' she said excitedly and vehemently, 'give orders for my ownprivate coachman, Hans Hildersheim, to get a carriage ready for meimmediately, ' but thinking better of it immediately she went on: 'Butno, we should only lose time, and every minute is precious; give me acloak quickly, Madame, and a lace veil; we will go out of one of thesmall doors in the park, and take the first conveyance we see. "

"She wrapped herself in her furs, hid her face in her mantilla, and Iaccompanied her, without at first knowing what this mystery was, andwhere we were going to, on this mad expedition. I hailed a cab that wasdawdling by the side of the pavement, and when the Empress gave me theaddress of Ladislas Ferkoz, the Minister of State, in a low voice, inspite of my usual phlegm, I felt a vague shiver of emotion, one of thosemovements of hesitation and recoil, from which the bravest are notexempt at times. But how could I get out of this unpleasant part ofacting as her companion, and how show want of politeness to a sovereignwho had completely lost her head? Accordingly, we started, but theEmpress did not pay any more attention to me than if I had not beensitting by her side in that narrow conveyance, but stifled her sobs withher pocket handkerchief, muttered a few incoherent words, andoccasionally trembled from head to foot. Her lover's name rose to herlips as if it had been a response in a litany, and I thought that shewas praying to the Virgin that she might not arrive too late to seeLadislas Ferkoz again in the possession of his faculties, and keep himalive for a few hours. Suddenly, as if in reply to herself, she said: 'Iwill not cry any more; he must see me looking beautiful, so that he mayremember me, even in death!'

"When we arrived, I saw that we were expected, and that they had notdoubted that the Empress would come to close her lover's eyes with alast kiss. She left me there, and hurried to Ladislas Ferkoz's room, without even shutting the doors behind her, where his beautiful, sensual, gipsy head stood out from the whiteness of the pillows; but hisface was quite bloodless, and there was no life left in it, except inhis large, strange eyes, that were striated with gold, like the eyes ofan astrologer or of a bearded vulture. 

"The cold numbness of the death struggle had already laid hold of hisrobust body and paralyzed his lips and arms, and he could not reply evenby a sound of tenderness to Maria-Gloriosa's wild lamentations andamorous cries. Neither reply nor smile, alas! But his eyes dilated, andglistened like the last flame that shoots up from an expiring fire, andfilled them with a world of dying thoughts, of divine recollections, ofdelirious love. They appeared to envelope her in kisses, they spoke toher, they thanked her, they followed her movements, and seemed delightedat her grief. And as if she were replying to their mute supplications, as if she had understood them, Maria-Gloriosa suddenly tore off herlace, threw aside her fur cloak, stood erect beside the dying man, whoseeyes were radiant, desirable in her supreme beauty with her bareshoulders, her bust like marble and her fair hair, in which diamondsglistened, surrounding her proud head, like that of the Goddess Diana, the huntress, and with her arms stretched out towards him in an attitudeof love, of embrace and of blessing. He looked at her in ecstacy, hefeasted on her beauty, and seemed to be having a terrible struggle withdeath, in order that he might gaze at her, that apparition of love, alittle longer, see her beyond eternal sleep and prolong this unexpecteddream. And when he felt that it was all over with him, and that even hiseyes were growing dim, two great tears rolled down his cheeks.... 

"When Maria-Gloriosa saw that he was dead, she piously and devoutlykissed his lips and closed his eyes, like a priest who closes the goldtabernacle after service, on an evening after benediction, and then, without exchanging a word, we returned through the darkness to thepalace where the ball was still going on. "

 * * * * *

There was a minute's silence, and while Madame de Laumières, who wasvery much touched by this story and whose nerves were rather highlystrung, was drying her tears behind her open fan, suddenly the harsh andshrill voices of the fast women who were returning from the Casino, bythe strange irony of fate, struck up an idiotic song which was then invogue: "_Oh! the poor, oh! the poor, oh! the poor, dear girl!_"

THE RELICS

They had given him a grand public funeral, like they do victorioussoldiers who have added some dazzling pages to the glorious annals oftheir country, who have restored courage to desponding heads and castover other nations the proud shadow of their country's flag, like a yokeunder which those went who were no longer to have a country, or liberty. 

During a whole bright and calm night, when falling stars made peoplethink of unknown metamorphoses and the transmigration of souls, whoknows whether tall cavalry soldiers in their cuirasses and sitting asmotionless as statues on their horses, had watched by the dead man'scoffin, which was resting, covered with wreaths, under the porch of theheroes, every stone of which is engraved with the name of a brave man, and of a battle. 

The whole town was in mourning, as if it had lost the only object thathad possession of its heart, and which it loved. The crowd went silentlyand thoughtfully down the avenue of the _Champs Elysées_, and theyalmost fought for the commemorative medals and the common portraitswhich hawkers were selling, or climbed upon the stands which street boyshad erected here and there, and whence they could see over the heads ofthe crowd. The _Place de la Concorde_ had something solemn about it, with its circle of statues hung from head to foot with long crapecoverings, which looked in the distance like widows, weeping andpraying. 

According to his last wish, Jean Ramel had been conveyed to the Pantheonin the wretched paupers' hearse, which conveys them to the common graveat the shambling trot of some thin and broken-winded horse. 

That dreadful, black conveyance without any drapery, without plumes andwithout flowers, which was followed by Ministers and deputies, byseveral regiments with their bands, and their flags flying above thehelmets and the sabers, by children from the national schools, bydelegates from the provinces, and an innumerable crowd of men inblouses, of women, of shop-keepers from every quarter, had a mosttheatrical effect, and while standing on the steps of the Pantheon, atthe foot of the massive columns of the portico, the orators successivelydiscanted on his apotheosis, tried to make their voices predominate overthe noise, emphasized their pompous periods, and finished theperformance by a poor third act, which makes people yawn and graduallyempties the theater, people remembered who that man had been, on whomsuch posthumous honors were being bestowed, and who was having such afuneral: it was Jean Ramel. 

Those three sonorous syllables called up a lionine head, with white hairthrown back in disorder, like a mane, with features that looked as ifthey had been cut out with a bill-hook, but which were so powerful, andin which there lay such a flame of life, that one forgot their vulgarityand ugliness; with black eyes under bushy eyebrows, which dilated andflashed like lightning, now were veiled as if in tears and then werefilled with serene mildness, with a voice which now growled so as almostto terrify its hearers, and which would have filled the hall of someworking men's club, full of the thick smoke from strong pipes withoutbeing affected by it, and then would be soft, coaxing, persuasive andunctuous like that of a priest who is holding out promises of Paradise, or giving absolution for our sins. 

He had had the good luck to be persecuted, to be in the eyes of thepeople, the incarnation of that lying formula which appears on everypublic edifice, of those three words of the _Golden Age_, which makethose who think, those who suffer and those who govern, smile somewhatsadly, _Liberty, Fraternity, Equality_. Luck had been kind to him, hadsustained, had pushed him on by the shoulders, and had set him up on hispedestal again when he had fallen down, like all idols do. 

He spoke and he wrote, and always in order to announce the good news toall the multitudes who suffered--no matter to what grade of society theymight belong--to hold out his hand to them and to defend them, to attackthe abuses of the _Code_--that book of injustice and severity--to speakthe truth boldly, even when it lashed his enemies as if it had been awhip. 

His books were like Gospels, which are read chapter by chapter, andwarmed the most despairing and the most sorrowing hearts, and broughtcomfort, hope and dreams to each. 

He had lived very modestly until the end, and appeared to spend nothing;and he only kept one old servant, who spoke to him in the Basquedialect. 

That chaste philosopher, who had all his life long feared women's snaresand wiles, who had looked upon love as a luxury made only for the richand idle, which unsettles the brain and interferes with acuteness ofthought, had allowed himself to be caught like an ordinary man, late inlife, when his hair was white and his forehead deeply wrinkled. 

It was not, however, as happens in the visions of solitary ascetics, some strange queen or female magician, with stars in her eyes andwitchery in her voice, some loose woman who held up the symbolical lampimmodestly, to light up her radiant nudity, and the pink and whitebouquet of her sweet-smelling skin, some woman in search of voluptuouspleasures, whose lascivious appeals it is impossible for any man tolisten to, without being excited to the very depths of his being. Neither a princess out of some fairy tale, nor a frail beauty who was anexpert in the art of reviving the ardor of old men, and of leading themastray, nor a woman who was disgusted with her ideals, that alwaysturned out to be alike, and who dreamt of awakening the heart of one ofthose men who suffer, who have afforded so much alleviation to humanmisery, who seemed to be surrounded by a halo, and who never knewanything but the true, the beautiful and the good. 

It was only a little girl of twenty, who was as pretty as a wild flower, who had a ringing laugh, white teeth, and a mind that was as spotless asa new mirror, in which no figure has been reflected as yet. 

He was in exile at the time for having given public expression to whathe thought, and he was living in an Italian village which was buried inchestnut trees and situated on the shores of a lake that was narrow andso transparent that it might have been taken for some nobleman's fishpond that was like an emerald in a large park. The village consisted ofabout twenty red-tiled houses. Several paths paved with flint led up theside of the hill among the vines where the Madonna, full of grace andgoodness extended her indulgence. 

For the first time in his life Ramel remarked that there were some lipsthat were more desirable, more smiling than others, that there was hairin which it must be delicious to bury the fingers like in fine silk, andwhich it must be delightful to kiss, and that there were eyes whichcontained an infinitude of caresses, and he had spelled right throughthe eclogue, which at length revealed true happiness to him, and he hadhad a child, a son, by her. 

This was the only secret that Ramel jealously concealed, and which nomore than two or three of his oldest friends knew anything about, andwhile he hesitated about spending twopence on himself, and went to theInstitute and to the Chamber of Deputies outside an omnibus, Pepa ledthe happy life of a millionaire who is not frightened of the to-morrow, and brought up her son like a little prince, with a tutor and threeservants, who had nothing to do but to look after him. 

All that Ramel made went into his mistress's hands, and when he feltthat his last hour was approaching, and that there was no hope of hisrecovery--in full possession of his faculties and joy in his dulleyes--he gave his name to Pepa, and made her his lawful widow, in thepresence of all his friends. She inherited everything that her formerlover left behind, a considerable income from his share of the annualprofits on his books, and also his pension, which the State continued topay to her. 

Little Ramel throve wonderfully amidst all this luxury, and gave freescope to his instincts and his caprices, without his mother ever havingthe courage to reprove him in the least, and he did not bear theslightest resemblance to Jean Ramel. 

Full of pranks, effeminate, a superfine dandy, and precociously vicious, he suggested the idea of those pages at the Court of Florence, whom wefrequently meet with in _The Decameron_, and who were the playthings forthe idle hands and tips of the patrician ladies. 

He was very ignorant and lived at a great rate, bet on races, and playedcards for heavy stakes with seasoned gamblers, old enough to be hisfather. And it was distressing to hear this lad joke about the memory ofhim whom he called _the old man_, and persecute his mother because ofthe worship and adoration which she felt for Jean Ramel, whom she spokeof as if he had become a demigod when he died, like in Roman theogony. 

He would have liked altogether to have altered the arrangement of thatkind of sanctuary, the drawing-room, where Pepa kept some of herhusband's manuscripts, the furniture that he had most frequently used, the bed on which he had died, his pens, his clothes and his weapons. Andone evening, not knowing how to dress himself up more originally thanthe rest for a masked ball that stout Toinette Danicheff was going togive as her house-warming, without saying a word to his mother, he tookdown the Academician's dress, the sword and cocked hat that had belongedto Jean Ramel, and put it on as if it had been a disguise on ShroveTuesday. 

Slightly built and with thin arms and legs, the wide clothes hung onhim, and he was a comical sight with the embroidered skirt of his coatsweeping the carpet, and his sword knocking against his heels. Theelbows and the collar were shiny and greasy from wear, for the _Master_had worn it until it was threadbare, to avoid having to buy another, andhad never thought of replacing it. 

He made a tremendous hit, and fair Liline Ablette laughed so at hisgrimaces and his disguise, that that night she threw over PrinceNoureddin for him, although he had paid for her house, her horses andeverything else, and allowed her six thousand francs a month--£240--forextras and pocket money. 

THE THIEF

"Certainly, " Dr. Sorbier exclaimed, who, while appearing to be thinkingof something else, had been listening quietly to those surprisingaccounts of burglaries and of daring acts which might have been borrowedfrom the trial of Cartouche; "certainly, I do not know any viler fault, nor any meaner action than to attack a girl's innocence, to corrupt her, to profit by a moment of unconscious weakness and of madness, when herheart is beating like that of a frightened fawn, when her body, whichhas been unpolluted up till then, is palpitating with mad desire and herpure lips seek those of her seducer; when her whole being is feverishand vanquished, and she abandons herself without thinking of theirremediable stain, nor of her fall nor of the painful awakening on themorrow. 

"The man who has brought this about slowly, viciously, and who can tellwith what science of evil, and who, in such a case, has not steadinessand self-restraint enough to quench that flame by some icy words, whohas not sense enough for two, who cannot recover his self-possession andmaster the runaway brute within him, and who loses his head on the edgeof the precipice over which she is going to fall, is as contemptible asany man who breaks open a lock, or as any rascal on the look-out for ahouse left defenseless and without protection, or for some easy andprofitable stroke of business, or as that thief whose various exploitsyou have just related to us. 

"I, for my part, utterly, refuse to absolve him even when extenuatingcircumstances plead in his favor, even when he is carrying on adangerous flirtation, in which a man tries in vain to keep his balance, not to exceed the limits of the game, any more than at lawn tennis; evenwhen the parts are inverted and a man's adversary is some precocious, curious, seductive girl, who shows you immediately that she has nothingto learn and nothing to experience, except the last chapter of love, oneof those girls from whom may fate always preserve our sons, and whom apsychological novel writer has christened _The Semi-Virgins_. 

"It is, of course, difficult and painful for that coarse andunfathomable vanity which is characteristic of every man, and whichmight be called _malism_, not to stir such a charming fire, to act theJoseph and the fool, to turn away his eyes, and, as it were, to put waxinto his ears, like the companions of Ulysses did when they wereattracted by the divine, seductive songs of the sirens, just to touchthat pretty table, covered with a perfectly new cloth, at which you areinvited to take a seat before any one else, in such a suggestive voice, and are requested to quench your thirst and to taste that new wine, whose fresh and strange flavor you will never forget. But who wouldhesitate to exercise such self-restraint if, when he rapidly examinedhis conscience, in one of those instinctive returns to his sober self, in which a man thinks clearly and recovers his head; if he were tomeasure the gravity of his fault, think of his fault, think of itsconsequences, of the reprisals, of the uneasiness which he would alwaysfeel in the future, and which would destroy the repose and the happinessof his life?

"You may guess that behind all these moral reflections, such as agray-beard like myself may indulge in, there is a story hidden, and sadas it is, I am sure it will interest you on account of the strangeheroism that it shows. "

He was silent for a few moments as if to classify recollections, andwith his elbows resting on the arms of his easy chair, and his eyeslooking into space, he continued in the slow voice of a hospitalprofessor, who is explaining a case to his class of medical students, ata bedside:

"He was one of those men who, as our grandfathers used to say, never metwith a cruel woman, the type of the adventurous knight who was alwaysforaging, who had something of the scamp about him, but who despiseddanger and was bold even to rashness. He was ardent in the pursuit ofpleasure, and a man who had an irresistible charm about him, one ofthose men in whom we excuse the greatest excesses, as the most naturalthings in the world. He had run through all his money at gambling andwith pretty girls, and so became, as it were, a soldier of fortune, whoamused himself whenever and however he could, and was at that timequartered at Versailles. 

"I knew him to the very depths of his childish heart, which was only tooeasily penetrated and sounded, and I loved him like some old bacheloruncle loves a nephew who plays him some tricks, but who knows how tomake him indulgent towards him, and how to wheedle him. He had made mehis confidant far more than his adviser, kept me informed of hisslightest tricks, though he always pretended to be speaking about one ofhis friends, and not about himself, and I must confess that his youthfulimpetuosity, his careless gaiety and his amorous ardor sometimesdistracted my thoughts and made me envy the handsome, vigorous youngfellow who was so happy at being alive, so that I had not the courage tocheck him, to show him his right road, and to call out to him, 'Takecare!' as children do at blind man's buff. 

"And one day, after one of those interminable _cotillons_, where thecouples do not leave each other for hours, but have the bridle on theirneck and can disappear together without anybody thinking of takingnotice of it, the poor fellow at last discovered what love was, thatreal love which takes up its abode in the very center of the heart andin the brain, and is proud of being there, and which rules like asovereign and tyrannous master, and so he grew desperately enamored of apretty, but badly brought up girl, who was as disquieting and as waywardas she was pretty. 

"She loved him, however, or rather she idolized him despotically, madly, with all her enraptured soul, and all her excited person. Left to do asshe pleased by imprudent and frivolous parents, suffering from neurosis, in consequence of the unwholesome friendships which she contracted atthe convent-school, instructed by what she saw and heard and knew wasgoing on around her, in spite of her deceitful and artificial conduct, knowing that neither her father nor her mother, who were very proud oftheir race, as well as avaricious, would ever agree to let her marry theman whom she had taken a liking to, that handsome fellow who had littlebesides visionary ideas and debts, and who belonged to the middleclasses, she laid aside all scruples, thought of nothing but ofbelonging to him altogether, of taking him for her lover, and oftriumphing over his desperate resistance as an honorable man. 

"By degrees, the unfortunate man's strength gave way, his heart grewsoftened, his nerves became excited, and he allowed himself to becarried away by that current which buffeted him, surrounded him and lefthim on the shore like a waif and a stray. 

"They wrote letters full of temptation and of madness to each other, andnot a day passed without their meeting, either accidentally, as itseemed, or at parties and balls. She had given him her lips in long, ardent caresses, and she had sealed their compact of mutual passion withkisses of desire and of hope. And at last she brought him to her room, almost in spite of himself. "

The doctor stopped, and his eyes suddenly filled with tears, as theseformer troubles came back to his mind, and then in a hoarse voice, hewent on, full of horror of what he was going to relate:

"For months he scaled the garden wall, and holding his breath andlistening for the slightest noise, like a burglar who is going to breakinto a house, he went in by the servants' entrance, which she had leftopen, went barefoot down a long passage and up the broad staircase, which creaked occasionally, to the second story, where his mistress'sroom was, and stopped there nearly the whole night. 

"One night, when it was darker than usual, and he was making haste lesthe should be later than the time agreed on, the officer knocked upagainst a piece of furniture in the ante-room and upset it. It sohappened that the girl's mother had not gone to sleep yet, eitherbecause she had a sick headache, or else because she had sat up lateover some novel, and frightened at that unusual noise which disturbedthe silence of the house, she jumped out of bed, opened the door, sawsome one, indistinctly, running away and keeping close to the wall, and, immediately thinking that there were burglars in the house, she arousedher husband and the servants by her frantic screams. The unfortunate manknew what he was about, and seeing into what a terrible fix he had got, and preferring to be taken for a common thief to dishonoring his adoredmistress and to betraying the secret of their guilty love, he ran intothe drawing-room, felt en the tables and what-nots, filled his pocketsat random with valuable gew-gaws, and then cowered down behind the grandpiano, which barred up a corner of a large room. 

"The servants who had run in with lighted candles, found him, andoverwhelming him with abuse, seized him by the collar and dragged him, panting and appearing half dead with shame and terror, to the nearestpolice station. He defended himself with intentional awkwardness when hewas brought up for trial, kept up his part with the most perfectself-possession, and without any signs of the despair and anguish thathe felt in his heart, and condemned and degraded and made to suffermartyrdom in his honor as a man and as a soldier, he did not protest, but went to prison as one of those criminals whom society gets rid of, like noxious vermin. 

"He died there of misery and of bitterness of spirit, with the name ofthe fair-haired idol, for whom he had sacrificed himself, on his lips, as if it had been an ecstatic prayer, and he entrusted his will to thepriest who administered extreme unction to him, and requested him togive it to me. In it, without mentioning anybody, and without in theleast lifting the veil, he at last explained the enigma, and clearedhimself of those accusations, the terrible burden of which he had borneuntil his last breath. 

"I have always thought myself, though I do not know why, that the girlmarried and had several charming children, whom she brought up writh theaustere strictness, and in the serious piety of former days!"

A RUPTURE

"It is just as I tell you, my dear fellow, those two poor things whom weall of us envied, who looked like a couple of pigeons when they arebilling and cooing, and were always spooning until they made themselvesridiculous, now hate each other just as much as they used to adore eachother. It is a complete break, and one of those which cannot be mendedlike you can an old plate! And all for a bit of nonsense, for somethingso funny that it ought to have brought them closer together and havemade them amuse themselves together until they were ill. But how can aman explain himself when he is dying of jealousy, and when he keepsrepeating to his terrified mistress, 'You are lying! you are lying!'When he shakes her, interrupts her while she is speaking, and says suchhard things to her that at last she flies into a rage, has enough of it, becomes hard and mad, and thinks of nothing but of giving him tit fortat and of paying him out in his own coin; does not care a straw aboutdestroying his happiness, sends everything to the devil, and talks a lotof bosh which she certainly does not believe. And then, because there isnothing so stupid and so obstinate in the whole world as lovers, neitherhe nor she will take the first steps, and own to having been in thewrong, and regret having gone too far; but both wait and watch and donot even write a few lines about nothing, which would restore peace. No, they let day succeed day, and there are feverish and sleepless nightswhen the bed seems so hard, so cheerless and so large, and habits getweakened and the fire of love that was still smoldering at the bottom ofthe heart evaporates in smoke. By degrees both find some reason for whatthey wished to do, they think themselves idiots to lose the time whichwill never return in that fashion, and so good-bye, and there you are!That is how Josine Cadenette and that great idiot Servance separated. "

Lalie Spring had lighted a cigarette, and the blue smoke played abouther fine, fair hair, and made one think of those last rays of thesetting sun which pierce through the clouds at sunset, and resting herelbows on her knees, and with her chin in her hand in a dreamy attitude, she murmured:

"Sad, isn't it?"

"Bah!" I replied, "at their age people easily console themselves, andeverything begins over again, even love!"

"Well, Josine had already found somebody else.... "

"And did she tell you her story?"

"Of course she did, and it is such a joke!... You must know thatServance is one of those fellows like one would wish to have when onehas time to amuse oneself, and so self-possessed that he would becapable of ruining all the older ones in a girls' school, and given totrifling as much as most men, so that Josine calls him 'perpetualmotion. ' He would have liked to have gone on with his fun until the Dayof Judgment, and seemed to fancy that beds were not made to sleep in atall, but she could not get used to being deprived of nearly all herrest, and it really made her ill. But as she wished to be asconciliatory as possible, and to love and to be loved as ardently as inthe past, and also to sleep off the effects of her happiness peacefully, she rented a small room in a distant quarter, in a quiet, shady streetgiving out that she had just come from the country, and put hardly anyfurniture into it except a good bed and a dressing table. Then sheinvented an old aunt for the occasion, who was ill and always grumbling, and who suffered from heart disease and lived in one of the suburbs, andso several times a week Josine took refuge in her sleeping place, andused to sleep late there as if it had been some delicious abode whereone forgets the whole world. Sometimes they forgot to call her at theproper time; she got back late, tired, with red and swollen eyelids, involved herself in lies, contradicted herself and looked so much as ifshe had just come from the confessional, feeling horribly ashamed ofherself, or, as if she had hurried home from some assignation, that atlast Servance worried himself about it, thought that he was being made afool of like so many of his comrades were, got into a rage and made uphis mind to set the matter straight, and so discover who this aunt ofhis mistress's was, who had so suddenly fallen from the skies. 

"He necessarily applied to an obliging agency, where they excited hisjealousy, exasperated him day after day by making him believe thatJosine Cadenette was making an absolute fool of him, had no more a sickaunt than she had any virtue, but that during the day she continued thelittle debaucheries which she committed with him at night, and that sheshamelessly frequented some discreet bachelor's lodgings, where morethan probably one of his own best friends was amusing himself at hisexpense, and having his share of the cake. He was fool enough tobelieve these fellows, instead of going and watching Josine himself, putting his nose into the business and going and knocking at the door ofher room. He wanted to hear no more, and would not listen to her. For atrifle, in spite of her tears, he would have turned the poor thing intothe streets, as if she had been a bundle of dirty linen. You may guesshow she flew out at him and told him all sorts of things to annoy him;she let him believe he was not mistaken, that she had had enough of hisaffection, and that she was madly in love with another man. He grew verypale when she said that, looked at her furiously, clenched his teeth andsaid in a hoarse voice:

"'Tell me his name, tell me his name!'

"'Oh!' she said, chaffingly, 'you know him very well!' and if I had nothappened to have gone in I think there would have been a tragedy.... Howstupid they are, and they were so happy and loved each other so.... Andnow Josine is living with fat Schweinsshon, a low scoundrel who willlive upon her and Servance has taken up with Sophie Labisque, who mighteasily be his mother; you know her, that bundle of red and yellow, whohas been at that kind of thing for eighteen years, and whom Laglandeehas christened, '_Saecula saeculorum_!'"

"By Jove! I should rather think I did!"

A USEFUL HOUSE

Royamount's fat sides shook with laughter at the mere recollection ofthe funny story that he had promised to his friends, and throwinghimself back in the great arm-chair, which he completely filled, _thatpicker up of bits of pinchbeck_, as they called him at the club, at lastsaid:

"It is perfectly true, Bordenave does not owe anyone a penny and can gothrough any street he likes and publish those famous memoirs ofsheriff's officers, which he has been writing for the last ten years, when he did not dare to go out, and in which he carefully brought outthe characters and peculiarities of all those generous distributors ofstamped paper with whom he had had dealings, their tricks and wiles, their weaknesses, their jokes, their manner of performing their duties, sometimes with brutal rudeness and at others with cunning good nature, now embarrassed and almost ashamed of their work, and again ironicallyjovial, as well the artifices of their clerks to get a few crumbs fromtheir employer's cake. The book will soon be published and Machin, theVaudeville writer, has promised him a preface, so that it will be a mostamusing work. You are surprised, eh? Confess that you are absolutelysurprised, and I will lay you any bet you like that you will not guesshow our excellent friend, whose existence is an inexplicable problem, has been able to settle with his creditors, and suddenly produce therequisite amount. "

"Do get to the facts, confound it, " Captain Hardeur said, who wasgrowing tired of all this verbiage. 

"All right, I will get to them as quickly as possible, " Royaumontreplied, throwing the stump of his cigar into the fire. "I will clear mythroat and begin. I suppose all of you know that two better friends thanBordenave and Quillanet do not exist; neither of them could do withoutthe other, and they have ended by dressing alike, by having the samegestures, the same laugh, the same walk and the same inflections ofvoice, so that one would think that some close bond united them, andthat they had been brought up together from childhood. There is, however, this great difference between them, that Bordenave iscompletely ruined and that all that he possesses are bundles ofmortgages, laughable parchments which attest his ancient race, andchimerical hopes of inheriting money some day, though these expectationsare already heavily hypothecated. Consequently, he is always on thelook-out for some fresh expedients for raising money, though he issuperbly indifferent about everything, while Sebastien Quillanet, of thebanking house of Quillanet Brothers, must have an income of eightthousand francs a year, but is descended from an obscure laborer whomanaged to secure some of the national property, then he became an armycontractor, speculated on defeat as well as victory, and does not knownow what to do with his money. But the millionaire is timid, dull andalways bored, the ruined spendthrift amuses him by his impertinent ways, and his libertine jokes; he prompts him when he is at a loss for ananswer, extricates him out of his difficulties, serves as his guide inthe great forests of Paris which is strewn with so many pit-falls, andhelps him to avoid those vulgar adventures which socially ruins a man, no matter how well ballasted he may be. Then he points out to him whatwomen would make suitable mistresses for him, who make a man noted, andhave the effect of some rare and beautiful flower pinned into hisbuttonhole. He is the confidant of his intrigues, his guest when hegives small, special entertainments, his daily familiar table companion, and the buffoon whose sly humor one stimulates, and whose worstwitticisms one tolerates. "

"Really, really, " the captain interrupted him, "you have been going onfor more than a quarter of an hour without saying anything. "

So Royaumont shrugged his shoulders and continued: "Oh you can be verytiresome when you please, my dear fellow!... Last year, when he was atdaggers drawn with his people, who were deafening him with theirrecriminations, were worrying him and threatening him with a lot ofannoyance, Quillanet got married. A marriage of reason, and whichapparently changed his habits and his tastes, more especially as thebanker was at that time keeping a perfect little marvel of a woman, aParisian jewel of unspeakable attractions and of bewitching delicacy, that adorable Suzette Marly who is just like a pocket Venus, and who insome prior stage of her existence must have been Phryne or Lesbia. Ofcourse he did not get rid of her, but as he was bound to take somejudicious precautions, which are necessary for a man who is deceivinghis wife, he rented a furnished house with a courtyard in front, and agarden at the back, which one might think had been built to shelter someamorous folly. It was the nest that he had dreamt of, warm, snug, elegant, the walls covered with silk hangings of subdued tints, largepier-glasses, allegorical pictures, and filled with luxurious, lowfurniture that seemed to invite caresses and embraces. Bordenaveoccupied the ground floor, and the first floor served as a shrine forthe banker and his mistress. Well, just a week ago, in order to hide thesituation better, Bordenave asked Quillanet and some other friends toone of those luncheons which he understands so well how to order, such adelicious luncheon, that before it was quite over, every man had a womanon his knees already, and was asking himself whether a kiss from coaxingand naughty lips, was not a thousand times more intoxicating than thefinest old brandy or the choicest vintage wines, and was looking at thebedroom door wishing to escape to it, although the Faculty altogetherforbids that fashion of digesting a dainty repast, when the butler camein with an embarrassed look, and whispered something to him. 

"Tell the gentleman that he has made a mistake, and ask him to leave mein peace, " Bordenave replied to him in an angry voice. The servant wentout and returned immediately to say that the intruder was using threats, that he refused to leave the house, and even spoke of having recourse tothe commissary of police. Bordenave frowned, threw his table napkindown, upset two glasses and staggered out with a red face, swearing andstammering out:

"This is rather too much, and the fellow shall find out what going outof the window means, if he will not leave by the door. " But in theante-room he found himself face to face with a very cool, polite, impassive gentleman, who said very quietly to him:

"You are Count Robert de Bordenave, I believe. Monsieur?"

"Yes, Monsieur. "

"And the lease that you signed at the lawyer's, Monsieur Albin Calvert, in the _Rue du Faubourg-Poissonnière_, is in your name, I believe?"

"Certainly, Monsieur. "

"Then I regret extremely to have to tell you that if you are not in aposition to pay the various accounts which different people haveintrusted to me for collection here, I shall be obliged to seize all thefurniture, pictures, plate, clothes etc. , which are here, in thepresence of two witnesses who are waiting for me downstairs in thestreet. "

"I suppose this is some joke, Monsieur?"

"It would be a very poor joke, Monsieur le Comte, and one which I shouldcertainly not allow myself towards you!"

The situation was absolutely critical and ridiculous, the more so, thatin the dining-room the women who were slightly _elevated_, were tappingthe wine glasses with their spoons, and calling for him. What could hedo except to explain his misadventure to Quillanet, who became soberedimmediately, and rather than see his shrine of love violated, his secretsin disclosed and his pictures, ornaments and furniture sold, gave acheck in due form for the claim there and then, though with a very wryface. And in spite of this, some people will deny that men who areutterly cleared out, often have a stroke of luck. 

THE ACCENT

It was a large, upholstered house, with long white terraces shaded byvines, from which one could see the sea. Large pines stretched a darkdome over the sacked facade, and there was a look of neglect, of wantand wretchedness about it all, such as irreparable losses, departures toother countries, and death leave behind them. 

The interior wore a strange look, with half unpacked boxes serving forwardrobes, piles of band boxes, and for seats there was an array ofworm-eaten armchairs, into which bits of velvet and silk, which had beencut from old dresses, had been festooned anyhow, and along the wallsthere were rows of rusty nails which made one think of old portraits andof pictures full of associations, which had one by one been bought for alow price by some second-hand furniture broker. 

The rooms were in disorder and furnished no matter how, while velvetswere hanging from the ceilings and in the corners, and seemed to showthat as the servants were no longer paid except by hopes, they no longerdid more than give them an accidental, careless touch with the broomoccasionally. The drawing-room, which was extremely large, was full ofuseless knick-knacks, rubbish which is put up for sale at stalls atwatering places, daubs, they could not be called paintings of portraitsand of flowers, and an old piano with yellow keys. 

Such is the home where she, who had been called the handsome Madame deMaurillac, was spending her monotonous existence, like some unfortunatedoll which inconstant, childish hands have thrown into a corner in aloft, she who, almost passed for a professional seductress, and whosecoquetries, at least so the Faithful ones of the Party said, had beenable to excite a passing and last spark of desire in the dull eyes ofthe Emperor. 

Like so many others, she and her husband had waited for his return fromElba, had discounted a fresh, immediate chance, had kept up boldly andspent the remains of his fortune at that game of luxury. 

On the day when the illusion vanished, and he was forced to awake fromhis dream, Monsieur de Maurillac, without considering that he wasleaving his wife and daughter behind him almost penniless, but not beingable to make up his mind to come down in the world, to vegetate, tofight against his creditors, to accept the derisive alms of somesinecure, poisoned himself, like a shop girl who is forsaken by herlover. 

Madame de Maurillac did not mourn for him, and as this lamentabledisaster had made her interesting, and as she was assisted and supportedby unexpected acts of kindness, and had a good adviser in one of thoseold Parisian lawyers who would get anybody out of the most inextricabledifficulties, she managed to save something from the wreck, and to keepa small income. Then reassured and emboldened, and resting her ultimateillusions and her chimerical hopes on her daughter's radiant beauty, andpreparing for that last game in which they would risk everything, andperhaps also hoping that she might herself marry again, the ancientflirt arranged a double existence. 

For months and months she disappeared from the world, and as a pretextfor her isolation and for hiding herself in the country, she alleged herdaughter's delicate health, and also the important interests she had tolook after in the South of France. 

Her frivolous friends looked upon that as a great act of heroism, assomething almost super-human, and so courageous, that they tried todistract her by their incessant letters, religiously kept her up in allthe scandal, and love adventures, in the falls, as well as in theapotheosis of the capital. 

The difficult struggle which Madame de Maurillac had to keep up in orderto maintain her rank, was really as fine as any of those campaigns inthe twilight of glory, as those slow retreats where men only give wayinch by inch and fight until the last cartridge is expended, until atlast fresh troops arrive, reinforcement which bar the way to the enemy, and save the threatened flag. 

Broken in by the same discipline, and haunted by the same dream, motherand daughter lived on almost nothing in the dull, dilapidated housewhich the peasants called the _château_, and economized like poor peoplewho only have a few hundred francs a year to live on. But Fabienne deMaurillac developed well in spite of everything, and grew up into awoman like some rare flower which is preserved from all contact with theouter air and is reared in a hot-house. 

In order that she might not lose her Parisian accent by speaking toomuch with the servants, who had remained peasants under their livery, Madame de Maurillac, who had not been able to bring a lady's maid withher, on account of the extra cost which her traveling expenses and wageswould have entailed, and who, moreover, was afraid that someindiscretion might betray her maneuvers and cover her with ridicule, made up her mind to wait on her daughter herself. And Fabienne talkedwith nobody but her, saw nobody but her, and was like a little novice ina convent. Nobody was allowed to speak to her, or to interfere with herwalks in the large garden, or on the white terraces that were reflectedin the blue water. 

As soon as the season for the country and the seaside came, however, they packed up their trunks, and locked the doors of their house ofexile. As they were not known, and taking those terrible trains whichstop at every station, and by which travelers arrive at theirdestination in the middle of the night, with the certainty that nobodywill be waiting for you, and see you get out of the carriage, theytraveled third class, so that they might have a few bank notes the more, with which to make a show. 

A fortnight in Paris in the family house at Auteuil, a fortnight inwhich to try on dresses and bonnets and to show themselves, and thenTrouville, Aix or Biarritz, the whole show complete, with partiessucceeding parties, money was spent as if they did not know its value, balls at the Casinos, constant flirtations, compromising intimacies, andthose kind of admirers who immediately surround two pretty women, one inthe radiant beauty of her eighteen years, and the other in thebrightness of that maturity, which beautiful September days bring withthem. 

Unfortunately, however, they had to do the same thing over again everyyear, and as if bad luck were continuing to follow them implacably, Madame de Maurillac and her daughter did not succeed in their endeavors, and did not manage during her usual absence from home, to pick up somenice fellow who fell in love immediately, who took them seriously, andasked for Fabienne's hand, consequently, they were very unhappy. Theirenergies flagged, and their courage left them like water that escapes, drop by drop, through a crack in a jug. They grew low-spirited and nolonger dared to be open towards each other and to exchange confidencesand projects. 

Fabienne, with her pale cheeks, her large eyes with blue circles roundthem and her tight lips, looked like some captive princess who istormented by constant ennui, and troubled by evil suggestions; whodreams of flight, and of escape from that prison where fate holds hercaptive. 

One night, when the sky was covered with heavy thunderclouds and theheat was most oppressive, Madame de Maurillac called her daughter whoseroom was next to hers. After calling her loudly for some time in vain, she sprang out of bed in terror and almost broke open the door with hertrembling hands. The room was empty, and the pillows untouched. 

Then, nearly mad and foreseeing some irreparable misfortune, the poorwoman ran all over the large house, and then rushed out into the garden, where the air was heavy with the scent of flowers. She had theappearance of some wild animal that is being pursued by a pack ofhounds, tried to penetrate the darkness with her anxious looks, andgasped as if some one were holding her by the throat; but suddenly shestaggered, uttered a painful cry and fell down in a fit. 

There before her, in the shadow of the myrtle trees, Fabienne wassitting on the knees of a man--of the gardener--with both her arms roundhis neck and kissing him ardently, and as if to defy her, and to showher how vain all her precautions and her vigilance had been, the girlwas telling her lover in the country dialect, and in a cooing anddelightful voice, how she adored him and that she belonged to him.... 

Madame de Maurillac is in a lunatic asylum, and Fabienne has married thegardener. 

What could she have done better?

GHOSTS

Just at the time when the _Concordat_ was in its most flourishingcondition, a young man belonging to a wealthy and highly respectedmiddle class family went to the office of the head of the police atP----, and begged for his help and advice, which was immediatelypromised him. 

"My father threatens to disinherit me, " the young man then began, "although I have never offended against the laws of the State, ofmorality or of his paternal authority, merely because I do not share hisblind reverence for the Catholic Church and her Ministers. On thataccount he looks upon me, not merely as Latitudinarian, but as a perfectAtheist, and a faithful old manservant of ours, who is much attached tome, and who accidentally saw my father's will, told me in confidencethat he had left all his property to the Jesuits. I think this is highlysuspicious, and I fear that the priests have been maligning me to myfather. Until less than a year ago, we used to live very quietly andhappily together, but ever since he has had so much to do with theclergy, our domestic peace and happiness are at an end. "

"What you have told me, " the official replied, "is as likely as it isregrettable, but I fail to see how I can interfere in the matter. Yourfather is in the full possession of all his mental faculties, and candispose of all his property exactly as he pleases. I also think thatyour protest is premature; you must wait until his will can legally takeeffect, and then you can invoke the aid of justice; I am sorry to saythat I can do nothing for you. "

"I think you will be able to, " the young man replied; "for I believethat a very clever piece of deceit is being carried on here. "

"How? Please explain yourself more clearly. "

"When I remonstrated with him, yesterday evening, he referred to my deadmother, and at last assured me, in a voice of the deepest conviction, that she had frequently appeared to him, and had threatened him with allthe torments of the damned, if he did not disinherit his son, who hadfallen away from God, and leave all his property to the Church. Now I donot believe in ghosts. "

"Neither do I, " the police director replied; "but I cannot well doanything on this dangerous ground, if I had nothing but superstitions togo upon. You know how the Church rules all our affairs since the_Concordat_ with Rome, and if I investigate this matter, and obtain noresults, I am risking my post. It would be very different if you couldadduce any proofs for your suspicions. I do not deny that I should liketo see the clerical party, which will, I fear, be the ruin of Austria, receive a staggering blow; try, therefore, to get to the bottom of thisbusiness, and then we will talk it over again. "

About a month passed, without the young Latitudinarian being heard of;but then he suddenly came one evening, evidently in a great state ofexcitement, and told him that he was in a position to expose thepriestly deceit which he had mentioned, if the authorities would assisthim. The police director asked for further information. 

"I have obtained a number of important clues, " the young man said. "Inthe first place, my father confessed to me, that my mother did notappear to him in our house, but in the churchyard where she is buried. My mother was consumptive for many years, and a few weeks before herdeath she went to the village of S----, where she died and was buried. In addition to this, I found out from our footman, that my father hasalready left the house twice, late at night, in company of X----, theJesuit priest, and that on both occasions he did not return tillmorning. Each time he was remarkably uneasy and low-spirited after hisreturn, and had three masses said for my dead mother. He also told mejust now, that he has to leave home this evening on business, butimmediately he told me that, our footman saw the Jesuit go out of thehouse. We may, therefore, assume that he intends this evening to consultthe spirit of my dead mother again, and this would be an excellentopportunity for getting on the track of the matter, if you do not objectto opposing the most powerful force in the Empire, for the sake of suchan insignificant individual as myself. "

"Every citizen has an equal right to the protection of the State, " thepolice director replied; "and I think that I have shown often enough, that I am not wanting in courage to perform my duty, no matter howserious the consequences may be; but only very young men act without anyprospects of success, as they are carried away by their feelings. Whenyou came to me the first time, I was obliged to refuse your request forassistance, but to-day your shares have risen in value. It is now eighto'clock, and I shall expect you in two hours' time, here in my office. At present, all you have to do is to hold your tongue; everything elseis my affair. "

As soon as it was dark, four men got into a closed carriage in the yardof the police office, and were driven in the direction of the village ofS----; their carriage, however, did not enter the village, but stoppedat the edge of a small wood in the immediate neighborhood. Here they allfour alighted; they were the police director, accompanied by the youngLatitudinarian, a police sergeant and an ordinary policeman, who was, however, dressed in plain clothes. 

"The first thing for us to do is to examine the locality carefully, " thepolice director said; "it is eleven o'clock and the exorcisers of ghostswill not arrive before midnight, so we have time to look round us, andto take our measure. "

The four men went to the churchyard, which lay at the end of thevillage, near the little wood. Everything was as still as death, and nota soul was to be seen. The sexton was evidently sitting in the publichouse, for they found the door of his cottage locked, as well as thedoor of the little chapel that stood in the middle of the churchyard. 

"Where is your mother's grave?" the police director asked; but as therewere only a few stars visible, it was not easy to find it, but at lastthey managed it, and the police director looked about in theneighborhood of it. 

"The position is not a very favorable one for us, " he said at last;"there is nothing here, not even a shrub, behind which we could hide. "

But just then the policeman said that he had tried to get into thesexton's hut through the door or the window, and that at last he hadsucceeded in doing so by breaking open a square in a window, which hadbeen mended with paper, and that he had opened it and obtainedpossession of the key, which he brought to the police director. 

His plans were very quickly settled. He had the chapel opened and wentin with the young Latitudinarian; then he told the police sergeant tolock the door behind him and to put the key back where he had found it, and to shut the window of the sexton's cottage carefully. Lastly, hemade arrangements as to what they were to do, in case anythingunforeseen should occur, whereupon the sergeant and the constable leftthe churchyard, and lay down in a ditch at some distance from the gate, but opposite to it. 

Almost as soon as the clock struck half-past eleven, they heard stepsnear the chapel, whereupon the police director and the youngLatitudinarian went to the window, in order to watch the beginning ofthe exorcism, and as the chapel was in total darkness, they thought thatthey should be able to see, without being seen; but matters turned outdifferently from what they expected. 

Suddenly, the key turned in the lock, and they barely had time toconceal themselves behind the altar, before two men came in, one of whomwas carrying a dark lantern. One was the young man's father, an elderlyman of the middle class, who seemed very unhappy and depressed, theother the Jesuit father K----, a tall, thin, big-boned man, with a thin, bilious face, in which two large gray eyes shone restlessly under theirbushy, black eyebrows. He lit the tapers, which were standing on thealtar, and then began to say a _Requiem Mass_; while the old man knelton the altar steps and served him. 

When it was over, the Jesuit took the book of the Gospels and the holywater sprinkler, and went slowly out of the chapel, while the old manfollowed him, with the holy water basin in one hand and a taper in theother. Then the police director left his hiding place, and stoopingdown, so as not to be seen, he crept to the chapel window, where hecowered down carefully, and the young man followed his example. Theywere now looking straight on his mother's grave. 

The Jesuit, followed by the superstitious old man, walked three timesround the grave; then he remained standing before it, and by the lightof the taper, he read a few passages from the Gospel; then he dipped theholy water sprinkler three times into the holy water basin, andsprinkled the grave three times; then both returned to the chapel, kneltdown outside it with their faces towards the grave, and began to prayaloud, until at last the Jesuit sprang up, in a species of wild ecstasy, and cried out three times in a shrill voice:

"Exsurge! Exsurge! Exsurge!"[1]

[Footnote 1: Arise!]

Scarcely had the last word of the exorcism died away, when thick, bluesmoke rose out of the grave, which rapidly grew into a cloud, and beganto assume the outlines of a human body, until at last a tall, whitefigure stood behind the grave, and beckoned with its hand. 

"Who art thou?" the Jesuit asked solemnly, while the old man began tocry. 

"When I was alive, I was called Anna Maria B----, " the ghost replied ina hollow voice. 

"Will you answer all my questions?" the priest continued. 

"As far as I can. "

"Have you not yet been delivered from purgatory by our prayers, and allthe masses for your soul, which we have said for you?"

"Not yet, but soon, soon I shall be. "

"When?"

"As soon as that blasphemer, my son, has been punished. "

"Has that not already happened? Has not your husband disinherited hislost son, and made the Church his heir, in his place?"

"That is not enough. "

"What must he do besides?"

"He must deposit his will with the Judicial Authorities, as his lastwill and testament, and drive the reprobate out of his house. "

"Consider well what you are saying. Must this really be?"

"It must, or otherwise I shall have to languish in purgatory muchlonger, " the sepulchral voice replied with a deep sigh; but the nextmoment it yelled out in terror:

"Oh! Good Lord!" and the ghost began to run away as fast as it could. Ashrill whistle was heard, and then another, and the police director laidhis hand on the shoulder of the exorcisor, accompanied with the remark:

"You are in custody. "

Meanwhile, the police sergeant and the policeman, who had come into thechurchyard, had caught the ghost, and dragged it forward. It was thesexton, who had put on a flowing, white dress, and who wore a wax mask, which bore striking resemblance to his mother, as the son declared. 

When the case was heard, it was proved that the mask had been veryskillfully made from a portrait of the deceased woman. The Governmentgave orders that the matter should be investigated as secretly aspossible, and left the punishment of Father K---- to the spiritualauthorities, which was a matter of course, at a time when priests wereoutside the jurisdiction of the Civil Authorities; and it is needless tosay that he was very comfortable during his imprisonment, in a monasteryin a part of the country which abounded with game and trout. 

The only valuable result of the amusing ghost story was, that it broughtabout a reconciliation between father and son, and the former, as amatter of fact, felt such deep respect for priests and their ghosts inconsequence of the apparition, that a short time after his wife had leftpurgatory for the last time, in order to talk with him, he turned_Protestant_. 

CRASH

Love is stronger than death, and consequently also, than the greatestcrash. 

A young, and by no means bad-looking son of Palestine, and one of thebarons of the Almanac of the _Ghetto_, who had left the field coveredwith wounds in the last general engagement on the Stock Exchange, usedto go very frequently to the Universal Exhibition in Vienna in 1873, inorder to divert his thoughts, and to console himself amidst the variedscenes, and the numerous objects of attraction there. One day he met anewly married couple in the Russian section, who had a very old coat ofarms, but on the other hand, a very modest income. 

This latter circumstance had frequently emboldened the stockbroker tomake secret overtures to the delightful little lady; overtures whichmight have fascinated certain Viennese actresses, but which were sure toinsult a respectable woman. The baroness, whose name appeared in the_Almanack de Gotha_, therefore felt something very like hatred for theman from the _Ghetto_, and for a long time her pretty little head hadbeen full of various plans of revenge. 

The stockbroker, who was really, and even passionately in love with her, got close to her in the Exhibition buildings, which he could do all themore easily, since the little woman's husband had taken to flight, foreseeing mischief, as soon as she went up to the show-case of aRussian fur dealer, before which she remained standing in rapture. 

"Do look at that lovely fur, " the baroness said, while her dark eyesexpressed her pleasure; "I must have it. "

But she looked at the white ticket on which the price was marked. 

"Four thousand roubles, " she said in despair; "that is about sixthousand florins. "

"Certainly, " he replied, "but what of that? It is a sum not worthmentioning in the presence of such a charming lady. "

"But my husband is not in a position ... "

"Be less cruel than usual for once, " the man from the _Ghetto_ said tothe young woman in a low voice, "and allow me to lay this sable skin atyour feet. "

"I presume that you are joking. "

"Not I ... "

"I think you must be joking, as I cannot think that you intend to insultme. "

"But, Baroness, I love you.... "

"That is one reason more why you should not make me angry. "

"But ... "

"Oh! I am in such a rage, " the energetic little woman said; "I couldflog you like _Venus in the Fur_[2] did her slave. "

[Footnote 2: One of Sacher-Masoch's novels. --TRANSLATOR. ]

"Let me be your slave, " the Stock Exchange baron replied ardently, "andI will gladly put up with everything from you. Really, in this sablecloak, and with a whip in your hand, you would make a most lovelypicture of the heroine of that story. "

The baroness looked at the man for a moment with a peculiar smile. 

"Then if I were to listen to you favorably, you would let me flog you?"she said after a pause. 

"With pleasure. "

"Very well, " she replied quickly. "You will let me give you twenty-fivecuts with a whip, and I will be yours after the twenty-fifth blow. "

"Are you in earnest?"

"Fully. "

The man from the _Ghetto_ took her hand, and pressed it ardently to hislips. 

"When may I come?"

"To-morrow evening at eight o'clock. "

"And I may bring the sable cloak and the whip with me?"

"No, I will see about that myself. "

The next evening the enamored stockbroker came to the house of thecharming little Baroness, and found her alone, lying on a couch, wrappedin a dark fur, while she held a dog whip in her small hand, which theman from the _Ghetto_ kissed. 

"You know our agreement, " she began. 

"Of course I do, " the Stock Exchange baron replied. "I am to allow youto give me twenty-five cuts with the whip, and after the twenty-fifthyou will listen to me. "

"Yes, but I am going to tie your hands first of all. "

The amorous baron quietly allowed this new Delila to tie his handsbehind him, and then at her bidding, he knelt down before her, and sheraised her whip and hit him hard. 

"Oh! That hurts me most confoundedly, " he exclaimed. 

"I mean it to hurt you, " she said with a mocking laugh, and went onthrashing him without mercy. At last the poor fool groaned with pain, but he consoled himself with the thought that each blow brought himnearer to his happiness. 

At the twenty-fourth cut, she threw the whip down. 

"That only makes twenty-four, " the beaten would-be, _Don Juan_, remarked. 

"I will make you a present of the twenty-fifth, " she said with a laugh. 

"And now you are mine, altogether mine, " he exclaimed ardently. 

"What are you thinking of?"

"Have I not let you beat me?"

"Certainly; but I promised you to grant your wish after the twenty-fifthblow, and you have only received twenty-four, " the cruel little bit ofvirtue cried, "and I have witnesses to prove it. "

With these words, she drew back the curtains over the door, and herhusband, followed by two other gentlemen came out of the next room, smiling. For a moment the stockbroker remained speechless on his kneesbefore the beautiful woman; then he gave a deep sigh, and sadly utteredthat one, most significant word:

_"Crash!"_

AN HONEST IDEAL

Among my numerous friends in Vienna, there is one who is an author, andwho has always amused me by his childish idealism. 

Not by his idealism from an abstract point of view, for in spite of myPessimism I am an absurd Idealist, and because I am perfectly well awareof this, I as a rule never laugh at people's Idealism, but his sort ofIdealism was really too funny. 

He was a serious man of great capabilities who only just fell short ofbeing learned, with a clear, critical intellect; a man without anyillusions about Society, the State, Literature, or anything else, andespecially not about women; but yet he was the craziest Optimist as soonas he got upon the subject of actresses, theatrical princesses andheroines; he was one of those men, who, like Hackländer, cannot discoverthe Ideal of Virtue anywhere, except in a ballet girl. 

My friend was always in love with some actress or other; of course onlyPlatonically, and from preference with some girl of rising talent, whoseliterary knight he constituted himself, until the time came when heradmirers laid something much more substantial than laurel wreaths at herfeet; then he withdrew and sought for fresh talent which would allowitself to be patronized by him. 

He was never without the photograph of his ideal in his breast pocket, and when he was in a good temper he used to show me one or other ofthem, whom I had never seen, with a knowing smile, and once, when wewere sitting in a _café_ in the _Prater_, he took out a portrait withoutsaying a word, and laid it on the table before me. 

It was the portrait of a beautiful woman, but what struck me in it firstof all was not the almost classic cut of her features, but her whiteeyes. 

"If she had not the black hair of a living woman, I should take her fora statue, " I said. 

"Certainly, " my friend replied; "for a statue of Venus, perhaps for theVenus of Milo, herself. "

"Who is she?"

"A young actress. "

"That is a matter of course in your case; what I meant was, what is hername?"

My friend told me, and it was a name which is at present one of the bestknown on the German stage, with which a number of terrestrial adventuresare connected, as every Viennese knows, with which those of Venusherself were only innocent toying, but which I then heard for the firsttime. 

My idealist described her as a woman of the highest talent, which Ibelieved, and as an angel of purity, which I did not believe; on thatparticular occasion, however, I at any rate did not believe thecontrary. 

A few days later, I was accidentally turning over the leaves of theportrait album of another intimate friend of mine, who was a thoroughlycareless, somewhat dissolute Viennese, and I came across that strangefemale face with the dead eyes again. 

"How did you come by the picture of this Venus?" I asked him. 

"Well, she certainly is a Venus, " he replied, "but one of that cheapkind who are to be met with in the _Graben_[3], which is their idealgrove.... "

[Footnote 3: The street where most of the best shops are to be found, and much frequented by venial beauties. --TRANSLATOR. ]

"Impossible!"

"I give you my word of honor it is so. "

I could say nothing more after that. So my intellectual friend's newideal, that woman of the highest dramatic talent, that wonderful womanwith the white eyes, was a street Venus!

But my friend was right in one respect. He had not deceived himself withregard to her wonderful dramatic gifts, and she very soon made a careerfor herself; far from being a mute character on a suburban stage, sherose in two years to be the leading actress at one of the principaltheaters. 

My friend interested himself on her behalf with the manager of it, whowas not blinded by any prejudices. She acted in a rehearsal, and pleasedhim; whereupon he sent her to star in the provinces, and my friendaccompanied her, and took care she was well puffed. 

She went on the boards as Schiller's _Marie Stuart_, and achieved themost brilliant success, and before she had finished her starring tour, she obtained an engagement at a large theater in a Northern town, whereher appearance was the signal for a triumphant success. 

Her reputation, that is, her reputation as a most gifted actress, grewvery high in less than a year, and the manager of the Court theaterinvited her to star at the Court theater. 

She was received with some suspicion at first, but she soon overcame allprejudices and doubts; the applause grew more and more vehement at everyact, and at the close of the performance, her future was decided. Sheobtained a splendid engagement, and soon afterwards became an actress atthe Court theater. 

A well-known author wrote a racy novel, of which she was the heroine;one of the leading bankers and financiers was at her feet; she was themost popular personage, and the lioness of the capital; she had splendidapartments, and all her surroundings were of the most luxuriouscharacter, and she had reached that height in her career at which myidealistic friend, who had constituted himself her literary knight, quietly took his leave of her, and went in search of fresh talent. 

But the beautiful woman with the dead eyes and the dead heart seemed tobe destined to be the scourge of the Idealists, quite against her will, for scarcely had one unfolded his wings and flown away from her, thananother fell out of the nest into her net. 

A very young student, who was neither handsome, nor of good family, andcertainly not rich or even well off, but who was enthusiastic, intellectual and impressionable, saw her as _Marie Stuart_ in _The Maidof Orleans, The Lady with the Camelias_, and most of the plays of thebest French play writers, for the manager was making experiments withher, and she was doing the same with her talents. 

The poor student was enraptured with the celebrated actress, and at thesame time conceived a passion for the woman, which bordered on madness. 

He saved up penny by penny, he nearly starved himself, only in orderthat he might be able to pay for a seat in the gallery whenever sheacted, and be able to devour her with his eyes. He always got a seat inthe front row, for he was always outside three hours before the doorsopened, so as to be one of the first to gain his Olympus, the seat ofthe theatrical enthusiasts; he grew pale, and his heart beat violentlywhen she appeared; he laughed when she laughed, shed tears when shewept, applauded her, as if he had been paid to do it by the highestfavors that a woman can bestow, and yet she did not know him, and wasignorant of his very existence. 

The regular frequenters of the Court theater noticed him at last, andspoke about his infatuation for her, until at last she heard about him, but still did not know him, and although he could not send her anycostly jewelry, and not even a bouquet, yet at last he succeeded inattracting her attention. 

When she had been acting and the theater had been empty for a long time, and she left it, wrapped in valuable furs and got into the carriage ofher banker, which was waiting for her at the stage door, he always stoodthere, often up to his ankles in snow, or in the pouring rain. 

At first she did not notice him, but when her maid said something to herin a whisper on one occasion, she looked round in surprise, and he got alook from those large eyes, which were not dead then, but dark andbright; a look which recompensed him for all his sufferings and filledhim with proud hopes, which constantly gained more power over the youngIdealist, who was usually so modest. 

At last there was a thorough, silent understanding between thetheatrical princess and the dumb adorer. When she put her foot on thecarriage step, she looked round at him, and every time he stood there, devouring her with his eyes; she saw it and got contentedly into hercarriage, but she did not see how he ran after the carriage, and how hereached her house, panting for breath, when she did, nor how he lay downoutside after the door had closed behind her. 

One stormy summer night, when the wind was howling in the chimneys, andthe rain was beating against the windows and on the pavement, the poorstudent was again lying on the stone steps outside her house, when thefront door was opened very cautiously and quietly; for it was not thebanker who was leaving the house, but a wealthy young officer whom thegirl was letting out; he kissed the pretty little Cerebus as he put agold coin into her hand, and then accidentally trod on the Idealist, whowas lying outside. 

They all three simultaneously uttered a cry; the girl blew out thecandle, the officer instinctively half drew his sword, and the studentran away. 

Ever since that night, the poor, crazy fellow went about with a dagger, which he concealed in his belt, and it was his constant companion to thetheater, and the stage door, when the actress's carriage used to waitfor her, and to her house, where he nightly kept his painful watch. 

His first idea was to kill his fortunate rival, then himself, then thetheatrical princess, but at last, he lay down again outside her door, orstood on the pavement and watched the shadows, that flitted hither andthither on her window, turned by the magic spell of the lovely actress. 

And then, the most incredible thing happened, something which he couldnever have hoped for, and which he scarcely believed when it did occur. 

One evening, when she had been playing a very important part, she keptthe carriage waiting much longer than usual; but at last she appeared, and got into it; she did not shut the door, however, but beckoned to theyoung Idealist to follow her. 

He was almost delirious with joy, just as a moment before he had beenalmost mad from despair, and obeyed her immediately, and during thedrive he lay at her feet and covered her hands with kisses. She allowedit quietly and even merrily, and when the carriage stopped at her door, she let him lift her out of the carriage, and went upstairs leaning onhis arm. 

There, the lady's maid showed him into a luxuriously furnisheddrawing-room, while the actress changed her dress. 

Presently she appeared in her dressing gown, sat down carelessly in aneasy chair, and asked him to sit down beside her. 

"You take a great interest in me?" she said. 

"You are my ideal!" the student cried enthusiastically. 

The theatrical princess smiled, and said:

"Well, I will at any rate be an honest ideal; I will not deceive you, and you shall not be able to say that I have misused your youthfulenthusiasm. I will give myself to you.... "

"Oh! Heavens!" the poor Idealist exclaimed, throwing himself at herfeet. 

"Wait a moment! Wait a moment!" she said with a smile. "I have notfinished yet. I can only love a man who is in a position to provide mewith all those luxuries which an actress, or, if you like, which Icannot do without. As far as I know, you are poor, but I will belong toyou, only for to-night, however, and in return you must promise me notto rave about me, or to follow me, from to-night. Will you do this?"

The wretched Idealist was kneeling before her; he was having a terriblemental struggle. 

"Will you promise me to do this?" she said again. 

"Yes, " he said, almost groaning. 

The next morning a man, who had buried his Ideal, tottered downstairs. He was pale enough; almost as pale as a corpse; but in spite of this, heis still alive, and if he has any Ideal at all at present, it iscertainly not a theatrical princess. 

STABLE PERFUME

Three ladies belonging to that class of society which has nothing usefulto do, and therefore does not know how to employ its time sensibly, weresitting on a bench in the shade of some pine trees at Ischl, and weretalking incidentally of their preference for all sorts of smells. 

One of the ladies, Princess F----, a slim, handsome brunette, declaredthere was nothing like the smell of Russian leather; she wore dull brownRussian leather boots, a Russian leather dress suspender, to keep herpetticoats out of the dirt and dust, a Russian leather belt whichspanned her wasp-like waist, carried a Russian leather purse, and evenwore a brooch and bracelet of gilt Russian leather; people declared thather bedroom was papered with Russian leather, and that her lover wasobliged to wear high Russian leather boots and tight breeches, but thaton the other hand, her husband was excused from wearing anything at allin Russian leather. 

Countess H----, a very stout lady, who had formerly been very beautifuland of a very loving nature, but loving after the fashion of her time _àla_ Parthenia and Griseldis, could not get over the vulgar taste of theyoung Princess. All she cared for was the smell of hay, and she it waswho brought the scent _New Mown Hay_ into fashion. Her ideal was afreshly mown field in the moonlight, and when she rolled slowly along, she looked like a moving haystack, and exhaled an odor of hay all abouther. 

The third lady's taste was even more peculiar than Countess H----'s, andmore vulgar than the Princess's, for the small, delicate, light-hairedCountess W---- lived only for--the smell of stables. Her friends couldabsolutely not understand this; the Princess raised her beautiful, fullarm with its broad bracelet to her Grecian nose and inhaled the sweetsmell of the Russian leather, while the sentimental hay-rick exclaimedover and over again:

"How dreadful! What dost thou say to it, chaste moon?"

The delicate little Countess seemed very much embarrassed at the effectthat her confession had had, and tried to justify her taste. 

"Prince T---- told me that that smell had quite bewitched him once, " shesaid; "it was in a Jewish town in Gallicia, where he was quartered oncewith his hussar regiment, and a number of poor, ragged circus riders, with half-starved horses came from Russia and put up a circus with a fewpoles and some rags of canvas, and the Prince went to see them, andfound a woman among them, who was neither young nor beautiful, but boldand impudent; and the impudent woman wore a faded, bright red jacket, trimmed with old, shabby, imitation ermine, and that jacket stank of thestable, as the Prince expressed it, and she bewitched him with thatodor, so that every time that the shameless wretch lay in his arms, andlaughed impudently, and smelled abominably of the stable, he felt as ifhe were magnetized. 

"How disgusting!" both the other ladies said, and involuntarily heldtheir noses. 

"What dost thou say to it, chaste moon?" the haystack said with asigh, and the little light-haired Countess was abashed and held hertongue. 

At the beginning of the winter season the three friends were togetheragain in the gay, imperial city on the blue Danube. One morning thePrincess accidentally met the enthusiast for the hay at the house of thelittle light-haired Countess, and the two ladies were obliged to goafter her to her private riding-school, where she was taking her dailylesson. As soon as she saw them, she came up, and beckoned herriding-master to her to help her out of the saddle. He was a young manof extremely good and athletic build, which was set off by his tightbreeches and his short velvet coat, and he ran up and took his lovelyburden into his arms with visible pleasure, to help her off the quiet, perfectly broken horse. 

When the ladies looked at the handsome, vigorous man, it was quiteenough to explain their little friend's predilection for the smell of astable, but when the latter saw their looks, she blushed up to the rootsof her hair, and her only way out of the difficulty was to order theriding-master, in a very authoritative manner, to take the horse back tothe stable. He merely bowed, with an indescribable smile, and obeyedher. 

A few months afterwards, Viennese society was alarmed at the news thatCountess W---- had been divorced from her husband. The event was all themore unexpected, as they had apparently always lived very happilytogether, and nobody was able to mention any man on whom she hadbestowed even the most passing attention, beyond the requirements ofpoliteness. 

Long afterwards, however, a strange report became current. A chatteringlady's maid declared that the handsome riding-master had once so farforgotten himself as to strike the Countess with his riding-whip; agroom had told the Count of the occurrence, and when he was going tocall the insolent fellow to account for it, the Countess covered himwith her own body, and thus gave occasion for the divorce. 

Years had passed since then and the Countess H---- had grow stouter andmore sentimental. Ischl and hayricks were not enough for her any longer;she spent the winter on lovely _Lago Maggoire_, where she walked amonglaurel bushes and cypress trees, and was rowed about on the luke warm, moonlight nights. 

One evening she was returning home in the company of an English lady whowas also a great lover of nature, from _Isola Bella_, when they met abeautiful private boat in which a very unusual couple were sitting; asmall, delicate, light-haired woman, wrapped in a white burnoose, and ahandsome, athletic man, in tight, white breeches, a short, black velvetcoat trimmed with sable, a red fez on his head, and a riding whip in hishand. 

Countess K---- involuntarily uttered a loud exclamation. 

"What is the matter with you?" the English lady asked. "Do you knowthose people?"

"Certainly! She is a Viennese lady, " Countess H---- whispered; "CountessW----. "

"Oh! Indeed you are quite mistaken; it is a Count Savelli and his wife. They are a handsome couple, don't you think so?"

When the boat came nearer, she saw that in spite of that, it was littleCountess W---- and that the handsome man was her former riding-master, whom she had married, and for whom she had bought a title from the Pope;and as the two boats passed each other, the short sable cloak, which wasthrown carelessly over his shoulders, exhaled, like the old cat's skinjacket of that impudent female circus rider, a strong _stable perfume_. 

THE ILL-OMENED GROOM

An impudent theft, to a very large amount, had been committed in theCapital. Jewels, a valuable watch set with diamonds, his wife'sminiature in a frame enchased with brilliants, and a considerable sum inmoney, the whole amounting in value to a hundred and fifteen thousandflorins, had been stolen. The banker himself went to the Director ofPolice[4] to give notice of the robberies, but at the same time hebegged as a special favor that the investigation might be carried on asquietly and considerately as possible, as he declared that he had notthe slightest ground for suspecting anybody in particular, and did notwish any innocent person to be accused. 

[Footnote 4: Head of the Criminal InvestigationDepartment. --TRANSLATOR. ]

"First of all, give me the names of all the persons who regularly gointo your bedroom, " the police director said. 

"Nobody, except my wife, my children, and Joseph, my valet, a man forwhom I would answer as I would for myself. "

"Then you think him absolutely incapable of committing such a deed?"

"Most decidedly I do, " the banker replied. 

"Very well; then can you remember whether on the day on which you firstmissed the articles that have been stolen, or on any days immediatelypreceding it, anybody who was not a member of your household, happenedby chance to go to your bedroom?"

The banker thought for a moment, and then said with some hesitation:

"Nobody, absolutely nobody. "

The experienced official, however, was struck by the banker's slightembarrassment and momentary blush, so he took his hand, and looking himstraight in the face, he said:

"You are not quite candid with me; somebody was with you, and you wishto conceal the fact from me. You must tell me everything. "

"No, no; indeed there was nobody here. " "Then at present, there is onlyone person on whom any suspicion can rest--and that is your valet. "

"I will vouch for his honesty, " the banker replied immediately. 

"You may be mistaken, and I shall be obliged to question the man. "

"May I beg you to do it with every possible consideration?"

"You may rely upon me for that. "

An hour later, the banker's valet was in the police director's privateroom, who first of all looked at his man very closely, and then came tothe conclusion that such an honest, unembarrassed face, and such quiet, steady eyes could not possibly belong to a criminal. 

"Do you know why I have sent for you?"

"No, your Honor. "

"A large theft has been committed in your master's house, " the policedirector continued, "from his bedroom. Do you suspect anybody? Who hasbeen into the room, within the last few days?"

"Nobody but myself, except my master's family. "

"Do you not see, my good fellow, that by saying that, you throwsuspicion on yourself?"

"Surely, sir, " the valet exclaimed, "you do not believe... "

"I must not believe anything; my duty is merely to investigate and tofollow up any traces that I may discover, " was the reply. "If you havebeen the only person to go into the room within the last few days, Imust hold you responsible. "

"My master knows me... "

The police director shrugged his shoulders: "Your master has vouched foryour honesty, but that is not enough for me. You are the only person onwhom, at present, any suspicion rests, and therefore I must--sorry as Iam to do so--have you arrested. "

"If that is so, " the man said, after some hesitation, "I prefer to speakthe truth, for my good name is more to me than my situation. Somebodywas in my master's apartments yesterday. "

"And this somebody was... ?"

"A lady. "

"A lady of his acquaintance?"

The valet did not reply for some time. 

"It must come out, " he said at length. "My master keeps a woman--youunderstand, sir, a pretty, fair woman; and he has furnished a house forher and goes to see her, but secretly of course, for if my mistress wereto find it out, there would be a terrible scene. This person was withhim yesterday. "

"Were they alone?"

"I showed her in, and she was in his bedroom with him; but I had to callhim out after a short time, as his confidential clerk wanted to speak tohim, and so she was in the room alone for about a quarter of an hour. "

"What is her name?"

"Cæcelia K----; she is a Hungarian. " At the same time the valet gave himher address. 

Then the director of police sent for the banker, who, on being broughtface to face with his valet, was obliged to acknowledge the truth of thefacts which the latter had alleged, painful as it was for him to do so;whereupon orders were given to take Cæcelia K---- into custody. 

In less than half an hour, however, the police officer who had beendispatched for that purpose, returned and said that she had left herapartments, and most likely the Capital also, the previous evening. Theunfortunate banker was almost in despair. Not only had he been robbed ofa hundred and fifty thousand florins, but at the same time he had lostthe beautiful woman, whom he loved with all the passion of which he wascapable. He could not grasp the idea that a woman whom he had surroundedwith Asiatic luxury, whose strangest whims he had gratified, and whosetyranny he had borne so patiently, could have deceived him soshamefully, and now he had a quarrel with his wife, and an end of alldomestic peace, into the bargain. 

The only thing the police could do was to raise the hue and cry afterthe lady, who had denounced herself by her flight, but it was all of nouse. In vain did the banker, in whose heart hatred and thirst forrevenge had taken the place of love, implore the Director of Police toemploy every means to bring the beautiful criminal to justice, and invain did he undertake to be responsible for all the costs of herprosecution, no matter how heavy they might be. Special police officerswere told off to try and discover her, but Cæcelia K---- was so rude asnot to allow herself to be caught. 

Three years had passed, and the unpleasant story appeared to have beenforgotten. The banker had obtained his wife's pardon and--what he caredabout a good deal more--he had found another charming mistress, and thepolice did not appear to trouble themselves about the beautifulHungarian any more. 

We must now change the scene to London. A wealthy lady who created muchsensation in society, and who made many conquests both by her beauty andher free behavior, was in want of a groom. Among the many applicants forthe situation, there was a young man, whose good looks and manners gavepeople the impression that he must have been very well educated. Thiswas a recommendation in the eyes of the lady's maid, and she took himimmediately to her mistress's boudoir. When he entered, he saw abeautiful, voluptuous looking woman, at most, twenty-five years of age, with large, bright eyes and blue-black hair, which seemed to increasethe brilliancy of her fair complexion, lying on a sofa. She looked atthe young man, who also had thick black hair, and who turned his glowingblack eyes to the ground, beneath her searching gaze, with evidentsatisfaction, and she seemed particularly taken with his slender, athletic build, and then she said half lazily and half proudly:

"What is your name?"

"Lajos Mariassi. "

"A Hungarian?"

And there was a strange look in her eyes. 

"Yes. "

"How did you come here?"

"I am one of the many emigrants who have forfeited their country andtheir life; and I, who come of a good family, and who was an officer ofthe Honveds, must now ... Go into service, and thank God if I find amistress who is at the same time beautiful and an aristocrat, as youare. "

Miss Zoë--that was the lovely woman's name--smiled, and at the same timeshowed two rows of pearly teeth. 

"I like your looks, " she said, "and I feel inclined to take you into myservice, if you are satisfied with my terms. "

"A lady's whim, " her maid said to herself, when she noticed the ardentlooks which Miss Zoë gave her manservant, "which will soon pass away. "But that experienced female was mistaken that time. 

Zoë was really in love, and the respect with which Lajos treated her, put her into a very bad temper. One evening, when she intended to go tothe Italian Opera, she countermanded her carriage, and refused to seeher noble adorer, who wished to throw himself at her feet, and orderedher groom to be sent up to her boudoir. 

"Lajos, " she began, "I am not at all satisfied with you. "

"Why, Madame?"

"I do not wish to have you about me any longer; here are your wages forthree months. Leave the house immediately. " And she began to walk up anddown the room, impatiently. 

"I will obey you, Madame, " the groom replied, "but I shall not take mywages. "

"Why not?" she asked hastily. 

"Because then I should be under your authority for three months, " Lajossaid, "and I intend to be free, this very moment, so that I may be ableto tell you that I entered your service, not for the sake of your money, but because I love and adore a beautiful woman in you. "

"You love me!" Zoë exclaimed. "Why did you not tell me sooner? I merelywished to banish you from my presence, because I love you, and did notthink that you loved me. But you shall smart for having tormented me so. Come to my feet immediately. "

The groom knelt before the lovely girl, whose moist lips sought his atthe same instant. 

From that moment Lajos became her favorite. Of course he was not allowedto be jealous, as the young lord was still her official lover, who hadthe pleasure of paying everything for that licentious beauty, andbesides him, there was a whole army of so-called "good friends, " whowere fortunate enough to obtain a smile now and then, and occasionally, something more, and who, in return, had permission to present her withrare flowers, a parrot or diamonds. 

The more intimate Zoë became with Lajos, the more uncomfortable she feltwhen he looked at her, as he frequently did, with undisguised contempt. She was wholly under his influence and was afraid of him, and one day, while he was playing with her dark curls, he said jeeringly:

"It is usually said that contrasts usually attract each other, and yetyou are as dark as I am. "

She smiled, and then tore off her black curls, and immediately the mostcharming, fair-haired woman was sitting by the side of Lajos, who lookedat her attentively, but without any surprise. 

He left his mistress at about midnight, in order to look after thehorses, as he said, and she put on a very pretty nightdress and went tobed. She remained awake for fully an hour, expecting her lover, and thenshe went to sleep, but in two hours' time she was roused from herslumbers, and saw a police inspector and two constables by the side ofher magnificent bed. 

"Whom do you want?" she cried. 

"Cæcelia K----. "

"I am Miss Zoë. "

"Oh! I know you, " the Inspector said with a smile; "be kind enough totake off your dark locks, and you will be Cæcelia K----. I arrest you inthe name of the law. "

"Good heavens!" she stammered, "Lajos has betrayed me. "

"You are mistaken, Madame, " the Inspector replied; "he has merely donehis duty. "

"What? Lajos . . . My lover?"

"No, Lajos, the detective. "

Cæcelia got out of bed, and the next moment she sank fainting onto thefloor. 

AN EXOTIC PRINCE

In the forthcoming reminiscences, a lady will frequently be mentionedwho played a great part in the annals of the police from 1848 to 1866, and we will call her _Wanda von Chabert_. Born in Galicia of Germanparents, and carefully brought up in every way, she married a rich andhandsome officer of noble birth, from love, when she was sixteen. Theyoung couple, however, lived beyond their means, and when her husbanddied suddenly, two years after they were married, she was left anythingbut well off. 

As Wanda had grown accustomed to luxury and amusement, the quiet life inher parents' house did not suit her any longer, and even while she wasstill in mourning for her husband, she allowed a Hungarian magnate tomake love to her, and she went off with him at a venture, and continuedthe same extravagant life which she had led when her husband was alive, at her own authority. At the end of two years, however, her lover lefther in a town in North Italy, almost without means, and she was thinkingof going on the stage, when chance provided her with another resource, which enabled her to reassure her position in society. She became asecret police agent, and soon was one of their most valuable members. Inaddition to the proverbial charms and wit of a Polish woman, she alsopossessed high linguistic attainments, and she spoke Polish, Russian, French, German, English and Italian, almost equally fluently andcorrectly; then she had also that encyclopædic polish, which impressesmost people much more than the most profound learning of a specialist. She was very attractive in appearance, and she knew how to set off hergood looks by all the arts of dress and coquetry. 

In addition to this, she was a woman of the world in the widest sense ofthe term; pleasure-loving, faithless, unstable, and therefore never inany danger of really losing her heart, and consequently her head. Sheused to change the place of her abode, according to what she had to do. Sometimes she lived in Paris among the Polish emigrants, in order tofind out what they were doing, and maintained intimate relations withthe Tuileries and the Palais Royal at the same time; then she went toLondon for a short time, or hurried off to Italy, to watch the Hungarianexiles, only to reappear suddenly in Switzerland, or at one of thefashionable German watering-places. 

In revolutionary circles, she was looked upon as an active member of thegreat _League of Freedom_, and diplomatists regarded her as aninfluential friend of Napoleon III. 

She knew every one, but especially those men whose names were to be metwith every day, in the papers, and she reckoned Victor Emmanuel, Rouher, Gladstone, and Gortschakoff among her friends, as well as Mazzini, Kossuth, Garibaldi, Mieroslawsky and Bakunin. 

In the spring of 185- she was at Vevey, on the lovely lake of Geneva, and went into raptures when talking to an old German diplomatist aboutthe beauties of nature, and about Calame, Stifter and Turgenev, whose"Diary of a Hunter" had just become fashionable. 

One day a man appeared at the _table d'hôte_, who excited unusualattention, and hers especially, so that there was nothing strange in herasking the proprietor of the hotel what his name was; and she was toldthat he was a wealthy Brazilian, and that his name was Don Escovedo. 

Whether it was an accident, or whether he responded to the interestwhich the young woman felt for him, at any rate she constantly met himwherever she went, when she was taking a walk, or was on the lake, orwas looking at the newspapers in the reading room; and at last she wasobliged to confess to herself that he was the handsomest man she hadever seen. Tall, slim, and yet muscular, the young, beardless Brazilianhad a head which any woman might envy him; features which were not onlybeautiful and noble, but were also extremely delicate, with dark eyeswhich possessed a wonderful charm, and thick, auburn curly hair, whichcompleted the attractiveness and the strangeness of his appearance. 

They soon became acquainted, through a Prussian officer, whom theBrazilian had requested to introduce him to the beautiful Polishlady--for Frau von Chabert was taken for one in Vevey--and she, cold anddesigning as she was, blushed slightly when he stood before her for thefirst time; and when he gave her his arm he could feel her hand trembleslightly on it. The same evening they went out riding together, the nexthe was lying at her feet, and on the third she was his. For four weeksthe lovely Wanda and the Brazilian lived together as if they had been inParadise, but he could not deceive her searching eyes any longer. 

For her sharp and practiced gaze had already discovered in him thatindefinable something which makes a man appear a suspicious character. Any other woman would have been pained and horrified at such adiscovery, but she found the strange consolation in it, that herhandsome adorer had promised also to become a very interesting objectfor her pursuit, and so she began systematically to watch the man wholay unsuspectingly at her feet. 

She soon found out that he was no conspirator, but she asked herself invain whether she was to look for a common swindler, an impudentadventurer or perhaps even a criminal in him. The day that she hadforeseen soon came; the Brazilian's banker "unaccountably" had omittedto send him any money, and so he borrowed some of her. "So he is a malecourtesan, " she said to herself; and the handsome man soon requiredmoney again, and she lent it to him, until at last he left suddenly, andnobody knew where he had gone to; only this much, that he had left Veveyas the companion of an old but wealthy Wallachian lady; and so thistime, clever Wanda was duped. 

A year afterwards she met the Brazilian unexpectedly at Lucca, with aninsipid-looking, light-haired, thin Englishwoman on his arm. Wanda stoodstill and looked at him steadily, but he glanced at her quiteindifferently; he did not choose to know her again. 

The next morning, however, his valet brought her a letter from him, which contained the amount of his debt in Italian hundred liri notes, which were accompanied by a very cool excuse. Wanda was satisfied, butshe wished to find out who the lady was, in whose company she constantlysaw Don Escovedo. 

"Don Escovedo. "

An Austrian count, who had a loud and silly laugh, said:

"Who has saddled you with that yarn? The lady is Lady Nitingsdale, andhis name is Romanesco. "

"Romanesco?"

"Yes, he is a rich Boyar from Moldavia, where he has extensive estates. "

Romanesco kept a faro bank in his apartments, and he certainly cheated, for he nearly always won; it was not long, therefore, before otherpeople in good society at Lucca shared Madame von Chabert's suspicions, and consequently Romanesco thought it advisable to vanish as suddenlyfrom Lucca as Escovedo had done from Vevey, and without leaving any moretraces behind him. 

Some time afterwards, Madame von Chabert was on the island ofHeligoland, for the sea-bathing; and one day she saw Escovedo-Romanescositting opposite to her at the _table d'hôte_, in very animatedconversation with a Russian lady; only his hair had turned black sinceshe had seen him last. Evidently his light hair had become toocompromising for him. 

"The sea water seems to have a very remarkable effect upon your hair, "Wanda said to him spitefully, in a whisper. 

"Do you think so?" he replied, condescendingly. 

"I fancy that at one time your hair was fair. "

"You are mistaking me for somebody else, " the Brazilian replied, quietly. 

"I am not. "

"For whom do you take me, pray?" he said with an insolent smile. 

"For Don Escovedo. "

"I am Count Dembizki from Valkynia, " the former Brazilian said with abow; "perhaps you would like to see my passport. "

"Well, perhaps.... "

And at last, he had the impudence to show her his false passport. 

A year afterwards, Wanda met Count Dembizki in Baden, near Vienna. Hishair was still black, but he had a magnificent, full, black beard; hehad become a Greek prince, and his name was Anastasio Maurokordatos. Shemet him once in one of the side walks in the park, where he could notavoid her. "If it goes on like this, " she called out to him in a mockingvoice, "the next time I see you, you will be king of some negro tribe orother. "

That time, however, the Brazilian did not deny his identity; on thecontrary, he surrendered at discretion, and implored her not to betrayhim, and as she was not revengeful, she pardoned him, after enjoying histerror for a time, and promised him that she would hold her tongue, aslong as he did nothing contrary to the laws. 

"First of all, I must beg you not to gamble. "

"You have only to command; and we do not know each other in future?"

"I must certainly insist on that, " she said maliciously. 

The Exotic Prince had, however, made the conquest of the charmingdaughter of a wealthy Austrian Count, and had cut out an excellent youngofficer who was wooing her; and he, in his despair began to make love toFrau von Chabert, and at last told her he loved her, but she onlylaughed at him. 

"You are very cruel, " he stammered in confusion. 

"I? What are you thinking about?" Wanda replied, still smiling; "all Imean is, that you have directed your love to the wrong address, forCountess.... "

"Do not speak of her; she is engaged to another man. "

"As long as I choose to permit it, " she said; "but what will you do, ifI bring her back to your arms? Will you still call me cruel?"

"Can you do this?" the young officer asked, in great excitement. 

"Well, supposing I can do it, what shall I be then?"

"An angel, whom I shall thank on my knees. "

A few days later, the rivals met at a coffee house; the Greek princebegan to lie and boast, and the Austrian officer gave him the liedirect, and in consequence, it was arranged that they should fight aduel with pistols next morning in a wood close to Baden. But as theofficer was leaving the house with his second the next morning, a PoliceCommissary came up to him and begged him not to trouble himself anyfurther about the matter, but another time to be more careful beforeaccepting a challenge. 

"What does it mean?" the officer asked, in some surprise. 

"It means that this Maurokordatos is a dangerous swindler andadventurer, whom we have just taken into custody. "

"He is not a prince?"

"No; a circus rider. "

An hour later the officer received a letter from the charming Countess, in which she humbly begged for pardon; the happy lover set off to go andsee her immediately, but on the way a sudden thought struck him, and sohe turned back in order to thank beautiful Wanda, as he had promised, onhis knees. 

VIRTUE IN THE BALLET

It is a strange feeling of pleasure that the writer about the stage andthe characters of the theatrical feels, when he occasionally discovers agood, honest human heart in the twilight behind the scenes. Of all thewitches and semi-witches of that eternal _Walpurgis night_, whose boardsrepresent the world, the ladies of the ballet have at all times and inall places been regarded at least like saints, although Hackländerrepeatedly told in vain in his earlier novels, to convince us that truevirtue appears in tights and short petticoats and is only to be found inballet girls. I fear that the popular voice is right as a general rule, but is equally true that here and there one finds a pearl in the dust, and even in the dirt, and the short story that I am about to relate, will best illustrate my assertion. 

Whenever a new, youthful dancer appeared at the Vienna Opera House, the_habitués_ began to go after her, and did not rest, until the freshyoung rose had been plucked by some hand or other, though often it wasold and trembling. For how could those young and pretty, sometimes evenbeautiful girls who, with every right to life, love and pleasure, werepoor and had to subsist on a very small salary, resist the seduction ofthe smell of flowers and of the flash of diamonds? And if one resistedit, it was love, some real, strong passion, that gave her the strengthfor this, generally, however, only to go after luxury all the moreshamelessly and selfishly, when her lover forsook her. 

At the beginning of the winter season of 185--the pleasing news wasspread among the _habitués_, that a girl of dazzling beauty was going toappear very shortly in the ballet at the Court Theater. When the eveningcame, nobody had yet seen that much discussed phenomenon, but reportspread her name from mouth to mouth; it was Satanella. The moment whenthe troop of elastic figures in fluttering petticoats jumped onto thestage, every opera-glass in the boxes and stalls was directed on thestage, and at the same instant the new dancer was discovered, althoughshe timidly kept in the background. 

She was one of those girls who are surrounded by the bright halo ofvirginity, but who at the same time present a splendid type ofwomanhood; she had the voluptuous form of Rubens' second wife, whom theycalled, not untruly, the risen Green Helen, and her head with itsdelicate nose, its small full mouth, and its dark inquiring eyes, reminded people of the celebrated picture of the Flemish Venus in the_Belvedere_ in Vienna. 

She took the old guard of the Vienna Court Theater by storm, and thevery next morning a perfect shower of _billets doux_, jewels andbouquets fell into the poor ballet girl's attic. For a moment she wasdazzled by all this splendor and looked at the gold bracelets, thebrooches set with rubies and emeralds, and at the sparkling earrings, with flushed cheeks, but then an unspeakable terror of being lost and ofsinking into degradation, seized her, and she pushed the jewels away andwas about to send them back. But as is usual in such cases, her motherintervened in favor of _the generous gentlemen_, and so the jewels wereaccepted, but the notes which accompanied them were not answered atpresent. A second and a third discharge of Cupid's artillery followed, without making any impression on that virtuous girl; in consequence agreater number of her admirers grew quiet, though some continued to sendher presents, and to assail her with love letters, and one had thecourage to go still further. 

He was a wealthy banker, who had just called on the mother of Henrietta, as we will call the fair-haired ballet girl, and then one evening, quiteunexpectedly, on the girl herself. He by no means met with the receptionwhich he had expected from the pretty girl in a faded cotton gown;Henrietta treated him with a certain amount of good humored respect, which had a much more unpleasant effect on him than that coldness andprudery, which is so often synonymous with coquetry and selfishspeculation, among a certain class of women. In spite of everything, however, he soon went to see her daily, and lavished his wealth, withouther asking him for anything, on the beautiful dancer, and he gave her nochance of refusing, for he relied on the mother for everything. She tookpretty, small apartments for her daughter and herself in the_Kärntnerstrasse_ and furnished them elegantly, hired a cook andhousemaid, made an arrangement with a fly-driver, and lastly clothed herdaughter's lovely limbs in silk, velvet and valuable lace. 

Henrietta persistently held her tongue at all this; only once she saidto her mother in the presence of the Stock Exchange _Jupiter_:

"Have you won a prize in the lottery?"

"Of course, I have, " her mother replied with a laugh. 

The girl, however, had given away her heart long before, and quitecontrary to all precedent, to a man whose very name she was ignorant of, and who sent her no diamonds, and not even any flowers. But he was youngand good-looking, and stood so retiringly, and so evidently in love, atthe small side door of the Opera House every night, when she got out ofher antediluvian rickety fly, and also when she got into it again afterthe performance, that she could not help noticing him. Soon, he began tofollow her wherever she went, and once he summoned up courage to speakto her, when she had been to see a friend in a remote suburb. He wasvery nervous, but she thought all that he said very clear and logical, and she did not hesitate for a moment to confess that she returned hislove. 

"You have made me the happiest, and at the same time the most wretchedof men, " he said after a pause. 

"What do you mean?" she said innocently. 

"Do you not belong to another man?" he asked her in a sad voice. 

She shook her abundant, light curls. 

"Up till now, I have belonged to myself alone, and I will prove it toyou, by requesting you to call upon me frequently and without restraint. Everyone shall know that we are lovers. I am not ashamed of belonging toan honorable man, but I will not sell myself. "

"But your splendid apartments, and your dresses, " her lover interposedshyly, "you cannot pay for them out of your salary. "

"My mother has won a large prize in the lottery, or made a hit on theStock Exchange. " And with these words, the determined girl cut short allfurther explanations. 

That same evening the young man paid his first visit, to the horror ofthe girl's mother, who was so devoted to the Stock Exchange, and he cameagain the next day, and nearly every day. Her mother's reproaches wereof no more avail than Jupiter's furious looks, and when the latter oneday asked for an explanation as to _certain visits_, the girl saidproudly:

"That is very soon explained. He loves me as I love him, and I presumeyou can guess the rest. "

And he certainly did guess the rest, and disappeared, and with him theshower of gold ceased. 

The mother cried and the daughter laughed. "I never gave the worn outold rake any hopes, and what does it matter to me, what bargain you madewith him? I always thought that you had been lucky on the StockExchange. Now, however, we must seriously consider about giving up ourapartments, and make up our minds to live as we did before. "

"Are you really capable of making such a sacrifice for me, to renounceluxury and to have my poverty?" her lover said. 

"Certainly I am! Is not that a matter of course when one loves?" theballet girl replied in surprise. 

"Then let me inform you, my dear Henrietta, " he said, "that I am not sopoor as you think; I only wished to find out, whether I could makemyself loved for my own sake, I have done so. I am Count L----, andthough I am a minor and dependent on my parents, yet I have enough to beable to retain your pretty rooms for you, and to offer you, if not aluxurious, at any rate a comfortable existence. "

On hearing this, Mamma dried her tears immediately. Count L---- becamethe girl's acknowledged lover, and they passed the happiest hourstogether. Unselfish as the girl was, she was yet such a thoroughlyingenuous Viennese, that, whenever she saw anything that took her fancy, whether it was a dress, a cloak or one of those pretty little ornamentsfor a side table, she used to express her admiration in such terms, asforced her lover to make her a present of the object in question. Inthis way, Count L---- incurred enormous debts, which his father paidrepeatedly; at last, however, he inquired into the cause of all thisextravagance, and when he discovered it, he gave his son the choice ofgiving up his connection with the dancer, or of relinquishing all claimson the paternal money box. 

It was a sorrowful evening, when Count L---- told his mistress of hisfather's determination. 

"If I do not give you up, I shall be able to do nothing for you, " hesaid at last, "and I shall not even know how I should manage to livemyself, for my father is just the man to allow me to want, if I defyhim. That, however, is a very secondary consideration; but as a man ofhonor, I cannot bind you, who have every right to luxury and enjoyment, to myself, from the moment when I cannot even keep you from want, and soI must set you at liberty. "

"But I will not give you up, " Henrietta said proudly. 

The young Count shook his head sadly. 

"Do you love me?" the ballet girl said, quickly. 

"More than my life. "

"Then we will not separate, as long as I have anything, " she continued. 

And she would not give up her connection with him, and when his fatheractually turned Count L---- into the street, she took her lover into herown lodgings. He obtained a situation as a copyist clerk in a lawyer'soffice, and she sold her valuable dresses and jewels, and so they livedfor more than a year. 

The young man's father did not appear to trouble his head about them, but nevertheless he knew everything that went on in their small home, and knew every article that the ballet girl sold; until at last, softened by such love and strength of character, he himself made thefirst advances to a reconciliation with his son. 

At the present time, Henrietta wears the diamonds which formerlybelonged to the old Countess, and it is long since she was a balletgirl, for now she sits by the side of her husband in a carriage on whosepanels their armorial bearings are painted. 

IN HIS SWEETHEART'S LIVERY

At present she is a great lady, an elegant, intellectual woman, acelebrated actress; but in the year 1847, when our story begins, she wasa beautiful, but not very moral girl, and then it was that the young, talented Hungarian poet, who was the first to discover her gifts for thestage, made her acquaintance. 

The slim, ardent girl, with her bright, brown hair and her large blueeyes, attracted the careless poet, and he loved her, and all that wasgood and noble in her nature, put forth fresh buds and blossoms in thesunshine of his poetic love. 

They lived in an attic in the old Imperial city on the Danube, and sheshared his poverty, his triumphs and his pleasures, and she would havebecome his true and faithful wife, if the Hungarian revolution had nottorn him from her arms. 

The poet became the soldier of freedom, and followed the Magyartricolor, and the Honved drums, while she was carried away by thecurrent of the movement in the capital, and she might have been seendischarging her musket, like a brave Amazon, at the Croats, who weredefending the town against Görgey's assaulting battalions. 

But at last Hungary was subdued, and was governed as if it had been aconquered country. 

It was said that the young poet had fallen at Temesvar, and his mistresswept for him, and married another man, which was nothing either new orextraordinary. Her name was now Frau von Kubinyi, but her married lifewas not happy; and one day it occurred to her that her lover had toldher that she had talent for the stage, and whatever he said, had alwaysproved correct, so she separated from her husband, studied a few parts, appeared on the stage, and the public, the critics, actors andliterature were lying at her feet. 

She obtained a very profitable engagement, and her reputation increasedwith every part she played; and before the end of a year after her firstappearance, she was the lioness of society. Everybody paid homage toher, and the wealthiest men tried to obtain her favors; but she remainedcold and reserved, until the General commanding the district, who was ahandsome man of noble bearing, and a gentleman in the highest sense ofthe word, approached her. 

Whether she was flattered at seeing that powerful man, before whommillions trembled, and who had to decide over the life and death, thehonor and happiness of so many thousands, fettered by her soft curls, orwhether her enigmatical heart for once really felt what true love was, suffice it to say, that in a short time she was his acknowledgedmistress, and her princely lover surrounded her with the luxury of anEastern queen. 

But just then a miracle occurred--the resurrection of a dead man. Frauvon Kubinyi was driving through the _Corso_ in the General's carriage;she was lying back negligently in the soft cushions, and lookingcarelessly at the crowd on the pavement. Then, she caught sight of acommon Austrian soldier and screamed out aloud. 

Nobody heard that cry, which came from the depths or a woman's heart, nobody saw how pale and how excited that woman was, who usually seemedmade of marble, not even the soldier who was the cause of it. He was aHungarian poet, who, like so many other _Honveds_[5], now wore theuniform of an Austrian soldier. 

[Footnote 5: A Hungarian word, meaning literally, Defender of theFatherland. The term _Honved_ is applied to the Hungarian _Landnehr_, orMilitia. --Translator. ]

Two days later, to his no small surprise he was told to go to theGeneral in command, as orderly, and when he reported himself to theadjutant, he told him to go to Frau von Kubinyi's, and to await herorders. 

Our poet only knew her by report, but he hated and despised thebeautiful woman, who had sold herself to the enemy of the country, mostintensely; he had no choice, however, but to obey. 

When he arrived at her house, he seemed to be expected, for the porterknew his name, took him into his lodge, and without any furtherexplanation, told him immediately to put on the livery of his mistress, which was lying there ready for him. He ground his teeth, but resignedhimself without a word to his wretched, though laughable fate; it wasquite clear that the actress had some purpose in making the poet wearher livery. He tried to remember whether he could formerly have offendedher by his notices as a theatrical critic, but before he could arrive atany conclusion, he was told to go and show himself to Frau von Kubinyi. 

She evidently wished to enjoy his humiliation. 

He was shown into a small drawing-room, which was furnished with anamount of taste and magnificence such as he had never seen before, andwas told to wait. But he had not been alone many minutes, before thedoor-curtains were parted and Frau von Kubinyi came in, calm but deadlypale, in a splendid dressing gown of some Turkish material, and herecognized his former mistress. 

"Irma!" he exclaimed. 

The cry came from his heart, and it also affected the heart of thewoman, who was surfeited with pleasure, so greatly that the next momentshe was lying on the breast of the man whom she had believed to be dead, but only for a moment, and then he freed himself from her. 

"We are fated to meet again thus!" she began. 

"Not through any fault of mine, " he replied bitterly. 

"And not through mine either, " she said quickly; "everybody thought thatyou were dead, and I wept for you; that is my justification. "

"You are really too kind, " he replied sarcastically. "How can youcondescend to make any excuses to me? I wear your livery, and you haveto order, and I have to obey; our relative positions are clear enough. "

Frau von Kubinyi turned away to hide her tears. 

"I did not intend to hurt your feelings, " he continued: "but I mustconfess that it would have been better for both of us, if we had not metagain. But what do you mean by making me wear your livery? It is notenough that I have been robbed of my happiness? Does it afford you anypleasure to humiliate me as well?"

"How can you think that?" the actress exclaimed. "Oh! Ever since I havediscovered your unhappy lot, I have thought of nothing but the means ofdelivering you from it, and until I succeed in doing this, however, Ican at least make it more bearable for you. "

"I understand, " the unhappy poet said with a sneer. "And in order to dothis, you have begged your present worshiper, to turn your former loverinto a footman. "

"What a thing to say to me!"

"Can you find any other plea?"

"You wish to punish me for having loved you, idolized you, I suppose?"the painter continued. "So exactly like a woman! But I can perfectlywell understand that the situation promises to have a fresh charm foryou... "

Before he could finish what he was saying, the actress quickly left theroom; he could hear her sobbing, but he did not regret his words, andhis contempt and hatred for her only increased, when he saw theextravagance and the princely luxury with which she was surrounded. Butwhat was the use of his indignation? He was wearing her livery, he wasobliged to wait upon her and to obey her, for she had the corporal'scane at her command, and it really seemed as if he incurred thevengeance of the offended woman; as if the General's insolent mistresswished to make him feel her whole power; as if he were not to be sparedthe deepest humiliation. 

The General and two of Frau von Kubinyi's friends, who were servants ofthe Muses like she was, for one was a ballet dancer, and the two otherswere actresses, had come to tea, and he was to wait on them. 

While it was getting ready, he heard them laughing in the next room, andthe blood flew to his head, and when the butler opened the door Frau vonKubinyi appeared on the General's arm; she did not, however, look at hernew footman, her former lover, triumphantly or contemptuously, but shegave him a glance of the deepest commiseration. 

Could he after all have wronged her?

Hatred and love, contempt and jealousy were struggling in his breast, and when he had to fill the glasses, the bottle shook in his hand. 

"Is this the man?" the General said, looking at him closely. 

Frau von Kubinyi nodded. 

"He was evidently not born for a footman, " the General added. 

"And still less for a soldier, " the actress observed. 

These words fell heavily on the unfortunate poet's heart, but she wasevidently taking his part, and trying to rescue him from his terribleposition. 

Suspicion, however, once more gained the day. 

"She is tired of all pleasures, and satisfied with enjoyment, " he saidto himself; "she requires excitement and it amuses her to see the manwhom she formerly loved, and who, as she knows, still loves her, tremblebefore her. And when she pleases she can see me tremble; not for mylife, but for fear of the disgrace which she can inflict upon me at themoment if it should give her any pleasure. "

But suddenly the actress gave him a look which was so sad and soimploring, that he looked down in confusion. 

From that time he remained in her house without performing any duties, and without receiving any orders from her; in fact he never saw her, anddid not venture to ask after her, and two months had passed in this way, when the General unexpectedly sent for him. He waited, with many others, in the ante-room, and when the General came back from parade, he saw himand beckoned him to follow, and as soon as they were alone, he said:

"You are free, as you have been allowed to purchase your discharge. "

"Good heavens!" the poet stammered, "how am I to ... "

"That is already done, " the General replied. "You are free. "

"How is it possible? How can I thank your Excellency!"

"You owe me no thanks, " he replied; "Frau von Kubinyi bought you out. "

The poor poet's heart seemed to stop; he could not speak, nor evenstammer a word; but with a low bow, he rushed out and tore wildlythrough the streets, until he reached the mansion of the woman whom hehad so misunderstood, quite out of breath; he must see her again, andthrow himself at her feet. 

"Where are you going to?" the porter asked him. 

"To Frau von Kubinyi's. "

"She is not here. "

"Not here?"

"She has gone away. "

"Gone away? Where to?"

"She started for Paris two hours ago. "

DELILA

In a former reminiscence, [6] we made the acquaintance of a lady, who haddone the police many services in former years, and whom we called Wandavon Chabert. It is no exaggeration, if we say that she was at the sametime the cleverest, the most charming and the most selfish woman whomone could possibly meet. She was certainly not exactly what is calledbeautiful, for neither her face nor her figure were symmetrical enoughfor that, but if her head was not beautiful in the style of the antique, neither like the _Venus_ of Milo nor Ludoirsi's _Juno_, it was, on theother hand, in the highest sense delightful like the ladies whom Wateauand Mignard painted. Everything in her little face, and in its frame ofsoft brown hair was attractive and seductive, her low, Grecian forehead, her bright, almond shaped eyes, her small nose, and her full, voluptuouslips, her middling height and her small waist with its, perhaps, almosttoo full bust, and above all her walk, that half indolent, halfcoquettish swaying of her broad hips, were all maddeningly alluring. 

[Footnote 6: An Exotic Prince. ]

And this woman, who was born for love, was as eager for pleasure and asamorous as few other women have even been, but for that very reason shenever ran any danger of allowing her victims to escape her from pity; onthe contrary, she soon grew tired of each of her favorites, and herconnection with the police was then extremely useful to her, in order toget rid of an inconvenient, or jealous lover. 

Before the war between Austria and Italy in 1859, Frau von Chabert wasin London, where she lived alone in a small, one-storied house with herservants, and was in constant communication with emigrants from allcountries. 

She herself was thought to be a Polish refugee, and the luxury by whichshe was surrounded, and a fondness for sport, and above all for horses, which was remarkable even in England, made people give her the title ofCountess. At that period Count T---- was one of the most prominentmembers of the Hungarian propaganda, and Frau von Chabert wascommissioned to pay particular attention to all he said and did; but inspite of all the trouble she took, she had not hitherto even succeededin making his acquaintance. He lived the life of a misanthrope, quiteapart from the great social stream of London, and he was not believed tobe either gallant, or ardent in love. Fellow-countrymen of his, who hadknown him formerly, during the Magyar revolution, described him as verycautious, cold and silent, so that if any man possessed a charm againstthe toils, which she set for him, it was he. 

Just then it happened that as Wanda was riding in Hyde Park quite earlyone morning before there were many people about, her thoroughbredEnglish mare took fright, and threatened to throw the plucky rider, whodid not for a moment lose her presence of mind, from the saddle. Beforeher groom had time to come to her assistance, a man in a Hungarianbraided coat rushed from the path, and caught hold of the animal'sreins. When the mare had grown quite quiet, he was about to go away witha slight bow, but Frau von Chabert detained him, so that she might thankhim, and so had leisure to examine him more closely. He was neitheryoung nor handsome, but was well-made, like all Hungarians are, and hadan interesting and very expressive face. He had a sallow complexion, which was set off by a short, black full beard, and he looked as if hewere suffering, while he fixed two, great, black fanatical eyes on thebeautiful young woman, who was smiling at him so amiably, and it was thestrange look in those large eyes which aroused in the soul of the womanwho was so excitable, that violent, but passing feeling which she called_love_. She turned her horse and accompanied the stranger on his side, and he seemed to be even more charmed by her chatter than by herappearance, for his grave face grew more and more animated, and at lasthe himself became quite friendly and talkative. When he took leave ofher, Wanda gave him her card, on the back of which her address waswritten, and he immediately gave her his in return. 

She thanked him and rode off, looking at his name as she did so; it wasCount T----. 

She felt inclined to give a shout of pleasure when she found that thenoble quarry, which she had been hunting so long, had at last come intoher preserves, but she did not even turn her head round to look at him, such was the command which that woman had over herself and hermovements. 

Count T---- called upon her the very next day, soon he came every day, and in less than a month after that innocent adventure in Hyde Park, hewas at her feet; for when Frau von Chabert made up her mind to be loved, nobody was able to withstand her. She became the Count's confidantealmost as speedily as she had become his mistress, and every day, andalmost every hour, she, with the most delicate coquetry, laid freshfetters on the Hungarian Samson. Did she love him?

Certainly she did, after her own fashion, and at first she had not theremotest idea of betraying him; she even succeeded in completelyconcealing her connection with him, not only in London but also inVienna. 

Then the war of 1859 broke out, and like most Hungarian and Polishrefugees, Count T---- hurried off to Italy, in order to place himself atthe disposal of that great and patriotic Piedmontese statesman, Cavour. 

Wanda went with him, and took the greatest interest in his revolutionaryintrigues in Turin; for some time she seemed to be his right hand, andit looked as if she had become unfaithful to her present patrons. Through his means, she soon became on intimate terms with Piedmontesegovernment circles, and that was his destruction. 

A young Italian diplomatist, who frequently negotiated with Count T----, or in his absence, with Wanda, fell madly in love with the charmingPolish woman, and she, who was never cruel, more especially when sheherself had caught fire, allowed herself to be conquered by thehandsome, intellectual, daring man. In measure as her passion for theItalian increased, so her feelings for Count T---- declined, and at lastshe felt that her connection with him was nothing but a hindrance and aburden, and as soon as Wanda had reached that point, her adorer was asgood as lost. 

Count T---- was not a man whom she could just coolly dismiss, or withwhom she might venture to trifle, and that she knew perfectly well; soin order to avoid a catastrophe, the consequences of which might beincalculable for her, she did not let him notice the change in herfeelings towards him at first, and kept the Italian, who belonged toher, at a proper distance. 

When peace had been concluded, and the great, peaceful revolution, whichfound its provisional settlement in the Constitution of February and inthe Hungarian agreement, began in Austria, the Hungarian refugeesdetermined to send Count T---- to Hungary, that he might assume thedirection of affairs there. But as he was still an outlaw, and as thedeath sentence of Arab hung over his head like the sword of Damocles, heconsulted with Wanda about the ways and means of reaching his fatherlandunharmed and of remaining there undiscovered. Although that clever womanthought of a plan immediately, yet she told Count T---- that she wouldthink the matter over, and she did not bring forward her proposition fora few days, which was then, however, received by the Count and hisfriends with the highest approval, and was immediately carried intoexecution. Frau von Chabert went to Vienna as Marchioness Spinola, andT---- accompanied her as her footman; he had cut his hair short, andshaved off his beard; so that in his livery, he was quiteunrecognizable. They passed the frontier in safety, and reached Viennawithout any interference from the authorities; and there they first ofall went to a small hotel, but soon took a small, handsome flat in thecenter of the town. Count T---- immediately hunted up some members of hisparty, who had been in constant communication with the emigrants, sinceVilagos, and the conspiracy was soon in excellent train, while Wandawhiled away her time with a hussar officer, without, however, losingsight of her lover and of his dangerous activity, for a moment, on thataccount. 

And at last, when the fruit was ripe for falling into her lap, she wassitting in the private room of the Minister of Police, opposite to theman with whom she was going to make the evil compact. 

"The emigrants must be very uneasy and disheartened at an agreementwith, and reconciliation to, Hungary, " he began. 

"Do not deceive yourself, " Frau von Chabert replied; "nothing is moredangerous in politics than optimism, and the influence of therevolutionary propaganda was never greater than it is at present. Do nothope to conciliate the Magyars by half concessions, and, above allthings, do not underestimate the movement, which is being organizedopenly, in broad daylight. "

"You are afraid of a revolution?"

"I know that they are preparing for one, and that they expect everythingfrom that alone. "

The skeptical man smiled. 

"Give me something besides views and opinions, and then I willbelieve... "

"I will give you the proof, " Wanda said, "but before I do you thegreatest service that lies in my power, I must be sure that I shall berewarded for all my skill and trouble. "

"Can you doubt it?"

"I will be open with you, " Wanda continued. 

"During the insurrectionary war in Transylvania, Urban had excellentspies, but they have not been paid to this day. I want money.... "

"How much?"

With inimitable ease, the beautiful woman mentioned a very considerablesum. The skeptical man got up to give a few orders, and a short timeafterwards the money was in Wanda's hands. 

"Well?"

"The emigrants have sent one of their most influential and talentedmembers to organize the revolution in Hungary. "

"Have they sent him already?"

"More than that, for Count T---- is in Vienna at this moment. "

"Do you know where he is hiding?"

"Yes. "

"And you are sure that you are not mistaken?"

"I am most assuredly not mistaken, " she replied with a frivolous laugh;"Count T----, who was my admirer in London and Turin, is here in myhouse, as my footman. "

An hour later, the Count was arrested. But Wanda only wished to get ridof her tiresome adorer, and not to destroy him. She had been on the mostintimate terms with him long enough, and had taken part in his politicalplans and intrigues, to be able to give the most reliable informationabout him personally, as well as about his intentions, and thatinformation was such that, in spite of the past, and of the Count'srevolutionary standpoint, they thought they had discovered in him theman who was capable of bringing about a real reconciliation between themonarch and his people. In consequence of this, T----, who thought thathe had incurred the gallows, stood in the Emperor's presence, and themanner in which the latter expressed his generous intentions with regardto Hungary, carried the old rebel away, and he gave him his word ofhonor that he would bring the nation back to him, reconciled. And hekept his word, although, perhaps, not exactly in the sense in which hegave it. 

He was allowed full liberty in going to Hungary, and Wanda accompaniedhim. He had no suspicion that even in his mistress's arms he was underpolice supervision, and from the moment when he made his appearance inhis native land officially, as the intermediary between the crown andthe people, she had a fresh interest in binding a man of suchimportance, whom everybody regarded as Hungary's futureMinister-President, to herself. 

He began to negotiate, and at first everything went well, but soon theyielding temper of the government gave rise continually to freshdemands, and before long, what one side offered and the other sidedemanded, was so far apart, that no immediate agreement could be thoughtof. The Count's position grew more painful every day; he had pledgedhimself too deeply to both sides, and in vain he sought for a way out ofthe difficulty. 

Then one day the Minister of Police unexpectedly received a letter fromWanda, in which she told him that T----, urged on by hisfellow-countrymen, and branded as a traitor by the emigrants, was on thepoint of heading a fresh conspiracy. 

Thereupon, the government energetically reminded that thoroughly honestand noble man of his word of honor, and T----, who saw that he wasunable to keep it, ended his life by a pistol bullet. 

Frau von Chabert left Hungary immediately after the sad catastrophe, andwent to Turin, where new lovers, new splendors and new laurels awaitedher. 

We may, perhaps, hear more of her. 

A MESALLIANCE

It is a generally acknowledged truth, that the prerogatives of thenobility are only maintained at the present time through the weakness ofthe middle classes, and many of these who have established themselvesand their families by their intellect, industry and struggles, get intoa state of bliss, which reminds those who see it, of intoxication, assoon as they are permitted to enter aristocratic circles, or can be seenin public with barons and counts; and above all, when these treat themin a friendly manner, no matter from what motive, or when they see aprospect of a daughter of theirs driving in a carriage with armorialbearings on the panels, as a countess. 

Many women and girls of the citizen class would not hesitate for amoment to refuse an honorable, good-looking man of their own class, inorder to go to the altar with the oldest, ugliest and stupidest dotardamong the aristocracy. 

I shall never forget saying in a joke to a young, well-educated girl ofa wealthy, middle-class family, who had the figure and bearing of aqueen, shortly before her marriage, not to forget an ermine cloak in hertrousseau. 

"I know it would suit me capitally, " she replied in all seriousness, "and I should certainly have worn one, if I had married Baron R----, which I was nearly doing, as you know, but it is not suitable for thewife of a government official. "

When a girl of the middle classes wanders from the paths of virtue, herfall may, as a rule, be rightly ascribed to her hankering after thenobility. 

In a small German town there lived, some years ago, a tailor, whom wewill call Löwenfuss, a man who, like all knights of the shears, wasequally full of aspirations after culture and liberty. After working forone master for some time as a poor journeyman, he married his daughter, and after his father-in-law's death, he succeeded to his business, andas he was industrious, lucky and managed it well, he soon grew very welloff, and was in a position to give his daughters an education, for whichmany a nobleman's daughters might have envied them; for they learned, not only French and music, but had also acquired many more solidbranches of knowledge, and as they were both pretty and charming girls, they soon became very much thought of and sought after. 

Fanny, the eldest, especially, was her father's pride and the favoriteof society; she was of middle height, slim, with a thoroughly maidenlyfigure, and with almost an Italian face, in which two large, dark eyesseemed to ask for love and submission at the same time; and yet the girlwith the plentiful, black hair was not in the least intended to command, for she was one of those romantic women who will give themselves, oreven throw themselves, away, but who can never be subjugated. A youngphysician fell in love with her, and wished to marry her; Fanny returnedhis love, and her parents gladly accepted him as a son-in-law, but shemade it a condition that he should visit her freely and frequently fortwo years, before she would consent to become his wife, and she declaredthat she would not go to the altar with him, until she was convincedthat not only their hearts, but also that their characters harmonized. He agreed to her wish, and became a regular visitor at the house of theeducated tailor; they were happy hours for the lovers; they played, sangand read together, and he told the girl some things from his medicalexperiences, which excited and moved her. 

Just then, one day an officer went to the tailor's house, to order somecivilian's clothes. This was not an unusual event in itself, but it wassoon to be the cause of one; for accidentally the daughter of _theartist in clothes_ came into the shop, just as the officer was leavingit, and on seeing her, he let go of the door-handle, and asked thetailor who the young lady was. 

"My daughter, " the tailor said, proudly. 

"May I beg you to introduce me to the young lady, Herr Löwenfuss?" thehussar said. 

"I feel flattered at the honor you are doing me, " the tailor replied, with evident pleasure. 

"Fanny, the Captain wishes to make your acquaintance; this is mydaughter, Fanny, Captain ... "

"Captain Count Kasimir W----, " the hussar interrupted him, as he went upto the pretty girl, and paid her a compliment or two. They were verycommonplace, stale, everyday phrases, but in spite of this, theyflattered the girl, intelligent as she was, extremely, because it was acavalry officer and a Count to boot who addressed them to her. And when, at last, the Captain, in the most friendly manner, asked the tailor'spermission to be allowed to visit at the house, both father and daughtergranted it to him most readily. 

The very next day Count W---- paid his visit, in full dress uniform, andwhen Mamma Löwenfuss made some observations about it, how handsome itwas, and how well it became him, he told them that he should not wear itmuch longer, as he intended to quit the service soon, and to look for awife, in whom birth and wealth were matters of secondary consideration, while a good education and a knowledge of domestic matters were ofparamount importance; adding that as soon as he had found one, he meantto retire to his estates. 

From that moment, Papa and Mamma Löwenfuss looked upon the Count astheir daughter's suitor; it is certain that he was madly in love withFanny; he used to go to their house every evening, and made himself soliked by all of them, that the young doctor soon felt himself to besuperfluous, and so his visits became rarer and rarer. The Countconfessed his love to Fanny on a moonlight night, while they weresitting in an arbor covered with honeysuckle, which formed nearly thewhole of Herr Löwenfuss' garden; he swore that he loved, that he adoredher, and when at last she lay trembling in his arms he tried to take herby storm, but that bold cavalry-exploit did not succeed, and thegood-looking hussar found out, for the first time in his life, that awoman can at the same time be romantic, passionately in love, and yetvirtuous. 

The next morning, the tailor called on the Count, and begged him veryhumbly to state what his intentions with regard to Fanny were. Theenamored hussar declared that he was determined to make the tailor'slittle daughter, Countess W----. Herr Löwenfuss was so much overcome byhis feelings, that he showed great inclination to embrace his futureson-in-law, The Count, however, laid down certain conditions. The wholematter must be kept a profound secret, for he had every prospect ofinheriting half a million of florins, on the death of an aunt, who wasalready eighty years old, which he should risk by a mesalliance. 

When they heard this, the girl's parents certainly hesitated for a time, to give their consent to the marriage, but the handsome hussar, whoseardent passion carried Fanny away, at last gained the victory. Thedoctor received a pretty little note from the tailor's daughter, inwhich she told him that she gave him back his promise, as she had notfound her ideal in him. Fanny then signed a deed, by which she formerlyrenounced all claims to her father's property, in favor of her sister, and left her home and her father's house with the Count under cover ofthe night, in order to accompany him to Poland, where the marriage wasto take place in his castle. 

Of course malicious tongues declared that the hussar had abducted Fanny, but her parents smiled at such reports, for they knew better, and themoment when their daughter would return as Countess W---- would amplyrecompense them for everything. 

Meanwhile, the Polish Count and the romantic German girl were beingcarried by the train through the dreary plains of Masovia. [7] Theystopped in a large town to make some purchases, and the Count, who wasvery wealthy and liberal, provided his future wife with everything thatbefits a Countess, and which a girl could fancy, and then they continuedtheir journey. The country grew more picturesque, but more melancholy, as they went further East; the somber Carpathians rose from thesnow-covered plains and villages, surrounded by white glistening walls, and stunted willows stood by the side of the roads, ravens sailedthrough the white sky, and here and there a small peasant's sledge shotby, drawn by two thin horses. 

[Footnote 7: A division of Poland, of which Warsaw is theCapital. --TRANSLATOR. ]

At last they reached the station, where the Count's steward was waitingfor them with a carriage and four, which brought them to theirdestination almost as swiftly as the iron steed. 

The numerous servants were drawn up in the yard of the ancient castle toreceive their master and mistress, and they gave loud cheers for her, for which she thanked them smilingly. When she went into the dim, archedpassages, and the large rooms, for a moment she felt a strange feelingof fear, but she quickly checked it, for was not her most ardent wish tobe fulfilled in a couple of hours?

She put on her bridal attire, in which a half comical, halfsinister-looking old woman with a toothless mouth and a nose like anowl's, assisted her, and just as she was fixing the myrtle wreath ontoher dark curls, the bell began to ring, which summoned her to herwedding. The Count himself, in full uniform, led her to the chapel ofthe castle, where the priest, with the steward and the castellan aswitnesses, and the footmen in grand liveries, were awaiting the handsomeyoung couple. 

After the wedding, the marriage certificate was signed in the vestry, and a groom was sent to the station, where he dispatched a telegram toher parents, to the effect that the hussar had kept his word, and thatFanny Löwenfuss had become Countess Faniska W----. 

Then the newly-married couple sat down to a beautiful little dinner incompany of the chaplain, the steward and the castellan; the champagnemade them all very cheerful, and at last the Count knelt down before hisyoung and beautiful wife, boldly took her white satin slipper off herfoot, filled it with wine, and emptied it to her health. 

At length night came, a thorough, Polish wedding night, and Faniska hadjust finished dressing and was looking at herself with proudsatisfaction in the great mirror that was fastened into the wall, fromtop to bottom. A white satin train flowed down behind her like rays fromthe moon, a half-open jacket of bright green velvet, trimmed withvaluable ermine, covered her voluptuous, virgin bust and her classicarms, only to show them all the more seductively at the slightestmotion, while the wealth of her dark hair, in which diamonds hung hereand there like glittering dew-drops, fell down her neck and mingled withthe white fur. The Count came in a red velvet dressing gown trimmed withsable; at a sign from him, the old woman who was waiting on his wife'sdivinity left the room, and the next moment he was lying like a slave atthe feet of his lovely young wife, who raised him up, and was pressinghim to her heaving bosom, when a noise which she had never heard before, a wild howling, startled the loving woman in the midst of her highestbliss. 

"What was that?" she asked, trembling. 

The Count went to the window without speaking, and she followed him, with her arms round him, and looked half timidly, half curiously outinto the darkness, where large bright spots were moving about in pairs, in the park at her feet. 

"Are they will-o'-the-wisps?" she whispered. 

"No, my child, they are wolves, " the Count replied, fetching hisdouble-barreled gun, which he loaded, and went out on the snow-coveredbalcony, while she drew the fur more closely over her bosom, andfollowed him. 

"Will you shoot?" the Count asked her in a whisper, and when she nodded, he said: "Aim straight at the first pair of bright spots that you see;they are the eyes of those amiable brutes. "

Then he handed her the gun and pointed it for her. 

"That is the way--are you pointing straight?"

"Yes. "

"Then fire. "

A flash, a report, which the echo from the hills repeats four times, andtwo of the unpleasant-looking lights had vanished. 

Then the Count fired, and by that time their people were all awake; theydrove away the wolves with torches and shouts, and laid the two largeanimals, the spoils of a Polish wedding night, at the feet of theiryoung mistress. 

And the days that followed resembled that night. The Count showedhimself the most attentive husband, as his wife's knight and slave, andshe felt quite at home in that dull castle; she rode, drove, smoked, read French novels and beat her servants as well as any Polish Countesscould have done. In the course of a few years, she presented the Countwith two children, and although he appeared very happy at that, yet, like most husbands, he grew continually cooler, more indolent, andneglectful of her. From time to time he left the castle, to see afterhis affairs in the capital, and the intervals between those journeysbecame continually shorter. Faniska felt that her husband was tired ofher, and much as it grieved her, she did not let him notice it; she wasalways the same. 

But at last the Count remained away altogether; at first he used towrite, but at last the poor, weeping woman did not even receive lettersto comfort her in her unhappy solitude, and his lawyer sent the moneythat she and her children required. 

She conjectured, hoped and doubted, suffered and wept for more than ayear; then she suddenly went to the capital and appeared unexpectedly inhis apartments. Painful explanations followed, until at last the Counttold her that he no longer loved her, and could not live with her forthe future, and when she wished to make him do so by legal means, andentrusted her case to a celebrated lawyer, _the Count denied that shewas his wife_. She produced her marriage certificate, when the mostinfamous fraud came to light. A confidential servant of the Count hadacted the part of the priest, and the tailor's beautiful daughter had, as a matter of fact, merely been the Count's mistress, and her childrenwere bastards. 

The virtuous woman then saw, when it was too late, that it was _she_ whohad formed a mesalliance. Her parents would have nothing to do with her, and at last it turned out in the bargain that the Count was married longbefore he knew her, but that he did not live with his wife. 

Then Fanny applied to the police magistrates; she wanted to appeal tojustice, but she was dissuaded from taking criminal proceedings; foralthough they would certainly lead to the punishment of her daringseducer, they would also bring about her own total ruin. 

At last, however, her lawyer effected a settlement between them, whichwas favorable to Fanny, and which she accepted for the sake of herchildren. The Count paid her a considerable sum down, and gave her thegloomy castle to live in. Thither she returned with a broken heart, andfrom that time she lived alone, a sullen misanthrope, a fierce despot. 

From time to time, a stranger wandering through the Carpathians, meets apale woman of demonic beauty, wearing a magnificent sable skin jacketand with a gun over her shoulder, in the forest, or in the winter in asledge, driving her foaming horses until they nearly drop from fatigue, while the sleigh bells utter a melancholy sound, and at last die away inthe distance, like the weeping of a solitary, deserted human heart. 

BERTHA

My old friend (one has friends occasionally who are much older thanoneself), my old friend Doctor Bonnet, had often invited me to spendsome time with him at Riom, and as I did not know Auvergne, I made up mymind to go in the summer of 1876. 

I got there by the morning train, and the first person I saw on theplatform was the doctor. He was dressed in a gray suit, and wore a soft, black, wide-brimmed, high-crowned felt hat, which was narrow at the toplike a chimney pot, a hat which hardly any one except an Auvergnat wouldwear, and which smacked of the charcoal burner. Dressed like that, thedoctor had the appearance of an old young man, with his spare body underhis thin coat, and his large head covered with white hair. 

He embraced me with that evident pleasure which country people feel whenthey meet long-expected friends, and stretching out his arm, he saidproudly:

"This is Auvergne!" I saw nothing except a range of mountains before me, whose summits, which resembled truncated cones, must have been extinctvolcanoes. 

Then, pointing to the name of the station, he said:

"_Riom_, the fatherland of magistrates, the pride of the magistracy, andwhich ought rather to be the fatherland of doctors. "

"Why?" I asked. 

"Why?" he replied with a laugh. "If you transpose the letters, you havethe Latin word _mori_, to die.... That is the reason why I settled here, my young friend. "

And delighted at his own joke, he carried me off, rubbing his hands. 

As soon as I had swallowed a cup of coffee, he made me go and see thetown. I admired the chemist's house, and the other celebrated houses, which were all black, but as pretty as knick-nacks, with façades ofsculptured stone. I admired the statue of the Virgin, the patroness ofbutchers, and he told me an amusing story about this, which I willrelate some other time, and then Doctor Bonnet said to me:

"I must beg you to excuse me for a few minutes while I go and see apatient, and then I will take you to Chatel-Guyon, so as to show you thegeneral aspect of the town, and all the mountain chain of thePuy-de-Dôme, before lunch. You can wait for me outside; I shall only goupstairs and come down immediately. "

He left me outside one of those old, gloomy, silent, melancholy houses, which one sees in the provinces, and this one appeared to lookparticularly sinister, and I soon discovered the reason. All the largewindows on the first floor were half boarded up with wooden shutters. The upper part of them alone could be opened, as if one had wished toprevent the people who were locked up in that huge stone trunk fromlooking into the street. 

When the doctor came down again, I told him how it had struck me, and hereplied:

"You are quite right; the poor creature who is living there must neversee what is going on outside. She is a mad woman, or rather an idiot, what you Normans would call a _Niente_[8]. It is a miserable story, buta very singular pathological case at the same time. Shall I tell you?"

[Footnote 8: A _Nothing_. --TRANSLATOR. ]

I begged him to do so, and he continued:

"Twenty years ago, the owners of this house, who were my patients, had adaughter who was like all other girls, but I soon discovered that whileher body became admirably developed, her intellect remained stationary. 

"She began to walk very early, but she could not talk. At first Ithought she was deaf, but I soon discovered that although she heardperfectly, she did not understand anything that was said to her. Violentnoises made her start and frightened her, without her understanding howthey were caused. 

"She grew up into a superb woman, but she was dumb, from an absolutewant of intellect. I tried all means to introduce a gleam of sense intoher head, but nothing succeeded. I thought that I noticed that she knewher nurse, though as soon as she was weaned, she failed to recognize hermother. She could never pronounce that word, which is the first thatchildren utter, and the last which soldiers murmur when they are dyingon the field of battle. She sometimes tried to talk, but she producednothing but incoherent sounds. 

"When the weather was fine, she laughed continually, and emitted somelow cries which might be compared to the twittering of birds; when itrained she cried and moaned in a mournful, terrifying manner, whichsounded like the howling of a dog when a death occurs in a house. 

"She was fond of rolling on the grass, like young animals do, and ofrunning about madly, and she used to clap her hands every morning, whenthe sun shone into her room, and would jump out of bed and insist bysigns, on being dressed as quickly as possible, so that she might getout. 

"She did not appear to distinguish between people, between her motherand her nurse, or between her father and me, or between the coachman andthe cook. I liked her parents, who were very unhappy on her account, very much, and went to see them nearly every day. I dined with themtolerably frequently, which enabled me to remark that Bertha (they hadcalled her Bertha), seemed to recognize the various dishes, and toprefer some to others. At that time she was twelve years old, but asfully formed in figure as a girl of eighteen, and taller than I was. Then, the idea struck me of developing her greediness, and by thesemeans to try and produce some slight powers of distinguishing into hermind, and to force her, by the diversity of flavors, if not to reason, at any rate to arrive at instinctive distinctions, which would ofthemselves constitute a species of work that was material to thought. Later on, by appealing to her passions, and by carefully making use ofthose which could serve us, we might hope to obtain a kind of reactionon her intellect, and by degrees increase the insensible action of herbrain. 

"One day I put two plates before her, one of soup, and the other of verysweet vanilla cream. I made her taste each of them successively, andthen I let her choose for herself, and she ate the plate of cream. In ashort time I made her very greedy, so greedy that it appeared as if theonly idea she had in her head was the desire for eating. She perfectlyrecognized the various dishes, and stretched out her hands towards thosethat she liked, and took hold of them eagerly, and she used to cry whenthey were taken from her. Then I thought I would try and teach her tocome to the dining room when the dinner bell rang. It took a long time, but I succeeded in the end. In her vacant intellect, there was a fixedcorrelation between the sound and her taste, a correspondence betweentwo senses, an appeal from one to the other, and consequently a sort ofconnection of ideas--if one can call that kind of instinctive hyphenbetween two organic functions an idea--and so I carried my experimentsfurther, and taught her, with much difficulty, to recognize meal timeson the face of the clock. 

"It was impossible for me for a long time to attract her attention tothe hands, but I succeeded in making her remark the clockwork and thestriking apparatus. The means I employed were very simple; I asked themnot to have the bell rung for lunch, and everybody got up and went intothe dining room, when the little brass hammer struck twelve o'clock, butI found great difficulty in making her learn to count the strokes. Sheran to the door each time she heard the clock strike, but by degrees shelearned that all the strokes had not the same value as far as regardedmeals, and she frequently fixed her eyes, guided by her ears, on thedial of the clock. 

"When I noticed that, I took care, every day at twelve and at sixo'clock to place my fingers on the figures twelve and six, as soon asthe moment she was waiting for, had arrived, and I soon noticed that sheattentively followed the motion of the small brass hands, which I hadoften turned in her presence. 

"She had understood! Perhaps I ought rather to say that she had seizedthe idea. I had succeeded in getting the knowledge, or rather thesensation of the time into her, just as is the case with carp, whocertainly have no clocks, when they are fed every day exactly at thesame time. 

"When once I had obtained that result, all the clocks and watches in thehouse occupied her attention almost exclusively. She spent her time inlooking at them, in listening to them and in waiting for meal times, andonce something very funny happened. The striking apparatus of a prettylittle Louis XVI. Clock that hung at the head of her bed, having got outof order, she noticed it. She sat for twenty minutes, with her eyes onthe hands, waiting for it to strike ten, but when the hand passed thefigure, she was astonished at not hearing anything; so stupefied wasshe, indeed, that she sat down, no doubt overwhelmed by a feeling ofviolent emotion, such as attacks us in the face of some terriblecatastrophe. And she had the wonderful patience to wait until eleveno'clock, in order to see what would happen, and as she naturally heardnothing, she was suddenly either seized with a wild fit of rage athaving been deceived, and imposed upon by appearances, or else overcomeby that fear which some frightened creature feels at some terriblemystery, and by the furious impatience of a passionate individual whomeets with some obstacle, she took up the tongs from the fireplace andstruck the clock so violently that she broke it to pieces in a moment. 

"It was evident, therefore, that her brain did act and calculate, obscurely it is true, and within very restricted limits, for I couldnever succeed in making her distinguish persons as she distinguished thetime; and to stir her intellect, it was necessary to appeal to herpassions, in the material sense of the word, and we soon had another, and alas! a very terrible proof of this!"

 * * * * *

"She had grown up into a splendid girl; a perfect type of a race, a sortof lovely and stupid Venus. She was sixteen, and I have rarely seen suchperfection of form, such suppleness and such regular features. I saidshe was a Venus; yes, a fair, stout, vigorous Venus, with large, bright, vacant eyes, which were as blue as the flowers of the flax plant; shehad a large mouth with full lips, the mouth of a glutton, of asensualist, a mouth made for kisses. Well, one morning her father cameinto my consulting room, with a strange look on his face, and, sittingdown, without even replying to my greeting, he said:

"'I want to speak to you about a very serious matter.... Would it bepossible ... Would it be possible for Bertha to marry?'

"'Bertha to marry!... Why, it is quite impossible!'

"'Yes, I know, I know, ' he replied.... 'But reflect, Doctor ... Don'tyou think ... Perhaps ... We hoped ... If she had children ... It wouldbe a great shock to her, but a great happiness, and ... Who knowswhether maternity might not rouse her intellect... ?'

"I was in a state of great perplexity. He was right, and it was possiblethat such a new situation, and that wonderful instinct of maternitywhich beats in the hearts of the lower animals, as it does in the heartof a woman, which makes the hen fly at a dog's jaws to defend herchickens, might bring about a revolution, an utter change in her vacantmind, and set the motionless mechanism of her thoughts into movement. And then, moreover, I immediately remembered a personal instance. Someyears previously I had possessed a spaniel bitch who was so stupid thatI could do nothing with her, but when she had had pups she became, ifnot exactly intelligent, yet almost like many other dogs who have notbeen thoroughly broken. 

"As soon as I foresaw the possibility of this, the wish to get Berthamarried grew in me, not so much out of friendship for her and her poorparents, as from scientific curiosity. What would happen? It was asingular problem, and I said to her father:

"'Perhaps you are right ... You might make the attempt ... But ... Butyou will never find a man to consent to marry her. '

"'I have found somebody, ' he said in a low voice. 

"I was dumbfounded, and said: 'Somebody really suitable? ... Some one ofyour own rank and position in society?'

"'Decidedly, ' he replied. 

"'Oh! And may I ask his name?'

"'I came on purpose to tell you, and to consult you. It is MonsieurGaston du Boys de Lucelles. '

"I felt inclined to exclaim: 'What a wretch, ' but I held my tongue, andafter a few moments' silence, I said:

"'Oh! Very good. I see nothing against it. '

"The poor man shook me heartily by the hand. 

"'She is to be married next month, ' he said. "

 * * * * *

"Monsieur Gaston du Boys de Lucelles was a scape-grace of good family, who, after having spent all that he had inherited from his father, andhaving incurred debts by all kinds of doubtful means, had been trying todiscover some other way of obtaining money, and he had discovered thismethod. He was a good-looking young fellow, and in capital health, butfast; one of those odious race of provincial fast men, and he appearedto me to be a sufficient sort of a husband, who could be got rid oflater, by making him an allowance. He came to the house to pay hisaddresses, and to strut about before the idiot girl, who, however, seemed to please him. He brought her flowers, kissed her hands, sat ather feet and looked at her with affectionate eyes; but she took nonotice of any of his attentions, and did not make any distinctionbetween him and the other persons who were about her. 

"However, the marriage took place, and you may guess how excited mycuriosity was. I went to see Bertha the next day, to try and discoverfrom her looks whether any feelings had been roused in her, but I foundher just the same as she was every day, wholly taken up with the clockand dinner, while he, on the contrary, appeared really in love, andtried to rouse his wife's spirits and affections by little endearments, and such caresses as one bestows on a kitten. He could think of nothingbetter. 

"I called upon the married couple pretty frequently, and I soonperceived that the young woman knew her husband, and gave him thoseeager looks which she had hitherto bestowed only on sweet dishes. 

"She followed his movements, knew his step on the stairs or in theneighboring rooms, clapped her hands when he came in, and her face waschanged, and brightened by the flames of profound happiness, and ofdesire. 

"She loved him with her whole body, and with all her soul, to the verydepths of her poor, weak soul, and with all her heart, that poor heartof some grateful animal. It was really a delightful and innocent pictureof simple passion, of carnal and yet modest passion, such as nature hadimplanted into mankind, before man had complicated and disfigured it, byall the various shades of sentiment. But he soon grew tired of thisardent, beautiful, dumb creature, and did not spend more than an hour aday with her, thinking it sufficient to devote his rights to her, andshe began to suffer in consequence. She used to wait for him frommorning till night, with her eyes on the clock; she did not even lookafter the meals now, for he took all his away from home, _Clermont, Chatel-Guyon, Royat_, no matter where, as long as he was not obligedto come home. 

"She began to grow thin; every other thought, every other wish, everyother expectation and every other confused hope, disappeared from hermind, and the hours during which she did not see him, became hours ofterrible suffering to her. Soon he used frequently not to come home atnight; he spent them with women at the casino at _Royat_, and did notcome home until daybreak. But she never went to bed before he returned. She remained sitting motionless in an easy chair, with her eyes fixed onthe clock, which turned so slowly and regularly round the china face, onwhich the hours were painted. 

"She heard the trot of his horse in the distance, and sat up with astart, and when he came into the room, she got up with the movements ofa phantom, and pointed to the clock, as if to say to him: 'Look how lateit is!'

"And he began to be afraid of this amorous and jealous, half-wittedwoman, and flew into a rage, like brutes do; and one night, he even wentso far as to strike her, so they sent for me. When I arrived she waswrithing and screaming, in a terrible crisis of pain, anger, passion, how do I know what? Can one tell what goes on in such undevelopedbrains?

"I calmed her by subcutaneous injections of morphine, and forbade her tosee that man again, for I saw clearly that marriage would infalliblykill her, by degrees. "

 * * * * *

"Then she went mad! Yes, my dear friend, that idiot has gone mad. She isalways thinking of him and waiting for him; she waits for him all dayand night, awake or asleep, at this very moment, ceaselessly. When I sawher getting thinner and thinner, and as she persisted in never takingher eyes off the clocks, I had them removed from the house. I thus madeit impossible for her to count the hours, and to try to remember, fromher indistinct reminiscences, at what time he used to come home, formerly. I hope to destroy the recollection of it in time, and toextinguish that ray of thought which I kindled with so much difficulty. 

"The other day, I tried an experiment. I offered her my watch; she tookit and looked at it for some time; then she began to scream terribly, asif the sight of that little object had suddenly aroused herrecollection, which was beginning to grow indistinct. She is pitiablythin now, with hollow cheeks and brilliant eyes, and she walks up anddown ceaselessly, like a wild beast does in its cage; I have had barsput to the windows, and have had the seats fixed to the floor, so as toprevent her from looking to see whether he is coming. 

"Oh! her poor parents! What a life they must lead!"

We had got to the top of the hill, and the doctor turned round and saidto me:

"Look at Riom from here. "

The gloomy town looked like some ancient city. Behind it, a green, wooded plain studded with towns and villages, and bathed in a soft bluehaze, extended, until it was lost in the distance. Far away, on myright, there was a range of lofty mountains with round summits, or elsecut off flat, as if with a sword, and the doctor began to enumerate thevillages, towns and hills, and to give me the history of all of them. But I did not listen to him; I was thinking of nothing but the madwoman, and I only saw her. She seemed to be hovering over that vastextent of country like a mournful ghost, and I asked him abruptly:

"What has become of the husband?"

My friend seemed rather surprised, but after a few moments' hesitation, he replied:

"He is living at Royat, on an allowance that they make, and is quitehappy; he leads a very fast life. "

As we were slowly going back, both of us silent and rather low-spirited, an English dog cart, drawn by a thoroughbred horse, came up behind us, and passed us rapidly. The doctor took me by the arm. 

"There he is, " he said. 

I saw nothing except a gray felt hat, cocked over one ear, above a pairof broad shoulders, driving off in a cloud of dust. 

ABANDONED

"I really think you must be mad, my dear, to go for a country walk insuch weather as this. You have had some very strange ideas for the lasttwo months. You take me to the sea side in spite of myself, when youhave never once had such a whim during all the forty-four years that wehave been married. You chose Fécamp, which is a very dull town, withoutconsulting me in the matter, and now you are seized with such a rage forwalking, you who hardly ever stir out on foot, that you want to go intothe country on the hottest day in the year. Ask d'Apreval to go withyou, as he is ready to gratify all your fancies. As for me, I am goingback to have a nap. "

Madame de Cadour turned to her old friend and said:

"Will you come with me, Monsieur d'Apreval?"

He bowed with a smile, and with all the gallantry of by-gone years:

"I will go wherever you go, " he replied. 

"Very well, then, go and get a sunstroke, " Monsieur de Cadour said; andhe went back to the _Hôtel des Bains_, to lie down on his bed for anhour or two. 

As soon as they were alone, the old lady and her old companion set off, and she said to him in a low voice, squeezing his hand:

"At last! at last!"

"You are mad, " he said in a whisper. "I assure you that you are mad. Think of the risk you are running. If that man ... "

She started. 

"Oh! Henri, do not say _that man_, when you are speaking of him. "

"Very well, " he said abruptly, "if our son guesses anything, if he hasany suspicions, he will have you, he will have us both in his power. Youhave got on without seeing him for the last forty years; what is thematter with you to-day?"

They had been going up the long street that leads from the sea to thetown, and now they turned to the right, to go to Etretat. The white roadextended in front of them, under a blaze of brilliant sunshine, so theywent on slowly in the burning heat. She had taken her old friend's arm, and was looking straight in front of her, with a fixed and haunted gaze, and at last she said:

"And so you have not seen him again, either?"

"No, never. "

"Is it possible?"

"My dear friend, do not let us begin that discussion again. I have awife and children and you have a husband, so we both of us have much tofear from other people's opinion. "

She did not reply; she was thinking of her long-past youth, and of manysad things that had occurred. She had been married as girls are married;she hardly knew her betrothed, who was a diplomatist, and later, shelived the same life with him that all women of the world live with theirhusbands. But Monsieur d'Apreval, who was also married, loved her with aprofound passion, and while Monsieur de Cadour was absent in India, on apolitical mission for a long time, she succumbed. Could she possiblyhave resisted, have refused to give herself? Could she have had thestrength and courage not to have yielded, as she loved him also? No, certainly not; it would have been too hard; she would have suffered toomuch! How cruel and deceitful life is! Is it possible to avoid certainattacks of fate, or can one escape from one's destiny? When a solitary, abandoned woman, without children and with a careless husband, alwaysescapes from the passion which a man feels for her, as she would escapefrom the sun, in order to live in darkness until she dies?

How well she recalled all the details, his kisses, his smiles, the wayhe used to stop, in order to watch her until she was indoors. What happydays they were; the only really delicious days she had ever enjoyed; andhow quickly they were over!

And then she discovered that she was pregnant! What anguish!

Oh! that journey to the South, that long journey, her sufferings, herconstant terror, that secluded life in the small, solitary house on theshores of the Mediterranean, at the bottom of a garden, which she didnot venture to leave. How well she remembered those long days which shespent lying under an orange tree, looking up at the round, red fruit, amidst the green leaves. How she used to long to go out, as far as thesea, whose fresh breezes came to her over the wall, and whose smallwaves she could hear lapping on the beach. She dreamt of its immenseblue expanse sparkling under the sun, with the white sails of the smallvessels, and a mountain on the horizon. But she did not dare to gooutside the gate; suppose anybody had recognized her, unshapely as shewas, and showing her disgrace by her expanded waist!

And those days of waiting, those last days of misery and expectation!The impending suffering and then, that terrible night! What misery shehad endured, and what a night it was! How she had groaned and screamed!She could still see the pale face of her lover, who kissed her handevery moment, and the clean-shaven face of the doctor, and the nurse'swhite cap. 

And what she felt when she heard the child's feeble cries, that mewling, that first effort of a human voice!

And the next day! the next day! the only day of her life on which shehad seen and kissed her son, for from that time, she had never evencaught a glimpse of him. 

And what a long, void existence hers had been since then, with thethought of that child always, always floating before her. She had neverseen her son, that little creature that had been part of herself, evenonce since then; they had taken him from her, carried him away andhidden him. All she knew was, that he had been brought up by somepeasants in Normandy, that he had become a peasant himself, had marriedwell, and that his father, whose name he did not know, had settled ahandsome sum of money on him. 

How often during the last forty years had she wished to go and see him, and to embrace him. She could not imagine to herself that he had grown!She always thought of that small, human _larva_, which she had held inher arms and pressed to her side for a day. 

How often she had said to her lover: "I cannot bear it any longer; Imust go and see him. "

But he had always stopped her, and kept her from going. She would not beable to restrain and to master herself; their son would guess it andtake advantage of her, blackmail her; she would be lost. 

 * * * * *

"What is he like?" she said. 

"I do not know; I have not seen him again, either. "

"Is it possible? To have a son, and not to know him; to be afraid of himand to repulse him as if he were a disgrace! It is horrible. "

They went along the dusty road, overcome by the scorching sun, andcontinually ascending that interminable hill. 

"One might take it for a punishment, " she continued; "I have never hadanother child, and I could no longer resist the longing to see him, which has possessed me for forty years. You men cannot understand that. You must remember that I shall not live much longer, and suppose I hadnever seen him again! never have seen him!... Is it possible? How couldI wait so long? I have thought about him every day since, and what aterrible existence mine has been! I have never awakened, never, do youunderstand, without my first thoughts being of him, of my child. How ishe? Oh! How guilty I feel towards him! Ought one to fear what the worldmay say, in a case like this? I ought to have left everything to goafter him, to bring him up and to show love for him. I should certainlyhave been much happier, but I did not dare, I was a coward. How I havesuffered! Oh! How those poor, abandoned children must hate theirmothers!"

She stopped suddenly, for she was choked by her sobs. The whole valleywas deserted and silent in the dazzling light, and the overwhelmingheat, and only the grasshoppers uttered their shrill, continuous chirpamong the sparse, yellow grass on both sides of the road. 

"Sit down a little, " he said. 

She allowed herself to be led to the side of the ditch, and sank downwith her face in her hands. Her white hair, which hung in curls on bothsides of her face, had become all of a lump, and she wept, overcome byprofound grief, while he stood facing her, uneasy and not knowing whatto say, and he merely murmured: "Come, have courage. "

She got up. 

"I will, " she said, and wiping her eyes, she began to walk again withthe jerky steps of an old woman. 

Rather farther on, the road passed under a clump of trees, which hid afew houses, and they could distinguish the vibrating and regular blowsof a blacksmith's hammer on the anvil; and soon they saw a cart drawnupon the right in front of a low cottage, and two men shoeing a horseunder a shed. 

Monsieur d'Apreval went up to them. 

"Where is Pierre Benedict's farm?" he asked. 

"Take the road on the left, close to the public house, and then gostraight on; it is the third house past Poret's. There is a smallspruce-fir close to the gate; you cannot make a mistake. "

They turned to the left; she was walking very slowly now; her legsthreatened to give way, and her heart was beating so violently that shefelt as if she should be suffocated, while at every step she murmured, as if in prayer:

"Oh! good heavens! good heavens!"

Monsieur d'Apreval, who was also nervous and rather pale, said to hersomewhat gruffly:

"If you cannot manage to command your feelings better, you will betrayyourself immediately. Do try and restrain yourself. "

"How can I?" she replied. "My child! When I think that I am going to seemy child!"

They were going along one of those narrow country lanes betweenfarmyards, that are buried beneath a double row of beech trees, by thesides of the ditches, and suddenly they found themselves in front of agate, over which there hung a young spruce-fir. 

"This is it, " he said. 

She stopped suddenly and looked about her. The courtyard, which wasplanted with apple-trees, was large and extended as far as the small, thatched dwelling-house. Opposite to it, were the stable, the barn, thecow-house and the poultry-house, while the gig, wagon and the manurecart were under a slated outhouse. Four calves were grazing under theshade of the trees, and black hens were wandering all about theenclosure. 

All was perfectly still; the house door was open, but nobody was to beseen, and so they went in, when immediately a large, black dog came outof a barrel that was standing under a pear tree, and began to barkfuriously. 

There were four bee-hives on boards against the wall of the house. 

Monsieur d'Apreval stood outside and called out:

"Is anybody at home?"

Then a girl appeared, a little girl of about ten, dressed in a chemiseand a linen petticoat, with dirty, bare legs, and a timid and cunninglook. She remained standing in the doorway, as if to prevent any onegoing in. 

"What do you want?" she asked. 

"Is your father in?"

"No. "

"Where is he?"

"I don't know. "

"And your mother?"

"Gone after the cows. "

"Will she be back soon?"

"I don't know. "

But suddenly, the old woman, as if she feared that he might force her toreturn, said quickly:

"I will not go without having seen him. "

"We will wait for him, my dear friend. "

As they turned away, they saw a peasant woman coming towards the house, carrying two tin pails, which appeared to be heavy, and which glistenedbrightly in the sunlight. 

She limped with her right leg, and in her brown, knitted jacket, thatwas faded by the sun, and washed out by the rain, she looked like apoor, wretched, dirty servant. 

"Here is Mamma, " the child said. 

When she got close to the house, she looked at the strangers angrily andsuspiciously, and then she went in, as if she had not seen them. Shelooked old, and had a hard, yellow, wrinkled face, one of those woodenfaces like country people so often have. 

Monsieur d'Apreval called her back. 

"I beg your pardon, Madame, but we came in to know whether you couldsell us two glasses of milk. "

She was grumbling when she reappeared in the door, after putting downher pails. 

"I don't sell milk, " she replied. 

"We are very thirsty, " he said, "and Madame is old and very tired. Canwe not get something to drink?"

The peasant woman gave them an uneasy and cunning glance, and then shemade up her mind. 

"As you are here, I will give you some, " she said, going into the house, and almost immediately the child came out and brought two chairs, whichshe placed under an apple tree, and then the mother in turn brought outtwo bowls of foaming milk, which she gave to the visitors. She did notreturn to the house, however, but remained standing near them, as if towatch them and to find out for what purpose they had come there. 

"You have come from Fécamp?" she said. 

"Yes, " Monsieur d'Apreval replied, "we are staying at Fécamp for thesummer. "

And then after a short silence he continued:

"Have you any fowls you could sell us, every week?"

The woman hesitated for a moment, and then replied:

"Yes, I think I have. I suppose you want young ones?"

"Yes, of course. "

"What do you pay for them in the market?"

D'Apreval, who had not the least idea, turned to his companion:

"What are you paying for poultry in Fécamp, my dear lady?"

"Four francs, and four francs, fifty centimes, " she said with her eyesfull of tears, and the farmer's wife, who was looking at her askance, inmuch surprise, asked:

"Is the lady ill, as she is crying?"

He did not know what to say, and replied with some hesitation:

"No ... No ... But she lost her watch as we came, a very handsome watch, and that troubles her. If anybody should find it, please let us know. "

Mother Benedict did not reply, as she thought it a very equivocal softof answer, but suddenly she exclaimed:

"Oh! here is my husband!"

She was the only one who had seen him, as she was facing the gate. D'Apreval started, and Madame de Cadour nearly fell, as she turned roundsuddenly on her chair. 

A man who was bent nearly double and who was panting for breath, wasthere, ten yards from them, dragging a cow at the end of a rope; andwithout taking any notice of the visitors, he said:

"Confound it! What a brute!"

And he went past them, and disappeared in the cow-house. 

Her tears had dried quickly, as she sat there startled, without a word, and with the one thought in her mind, that this was her son, andd'Apreval, whom the same thought had struck very unpleasantly, said inan agitated voice:

"Is this Monsieur Benedict?"

"Who told you his name?" the wife asked, still rather suspiciously. 

"The blacksmith at the corner of the highroad, " he replied, and thenthey were all silent, with their eyes fixed on the door of thecow-house, which formed a sort of black hole in the wall of thebuilding. Nothing could be seen inside, but they heard a vague noise, movements, and footsteps and the sound of hoofs, which were deadened bythe straw on the floor, and soon he reappeared in the door, wiping hisforehead, and went towards the house with long, slow strides. He passedthe strangers without seeming to notice them, and said to his wife:

"Go and draw me a jug of cider; I am very thirsty. "

Then he went back into the house, while his wife went into the cellar, and left the two Parisians alone. 

"Let us go, let us go Henri, " Madame de Cadour said, nearly distractedwith grief, and so d'Apreval took her by the arm, helped her to rise, and sustaining her with all his strength, for he felt that she wasnearly falling down, he led her out, after throwing five francs onto oneof the chairs. 

As soon as they were outside the gate, she began to sob, and said, shaking with grief:

"Oh! oh! is that what you have made of him?"

He was very pale, and replied coldly:

"I did what I could. His farm is worth eighty thousand francs, and thatis more than most of the children of the middle classes have. "

They returned slowly, without speaking a word. She was still crying; thetears ran down her cheeks continually for a time, but by degrees theystopped, and they went back to Fécamp, where they found Monsieur deCadour waiting dinner for them, and as soon as he saw them, he began tolaugh, and exclaimed:

"So my wife has had a sunstroke, and I am very glad of it. I reallythink she has lost her head for some time past!"

Neither of them replied, and when the husband asked them rubbing hishands:

"Well, I hope that at least you have had a pleasant walk?"

Monsieur d'Apreval replied:

"A delightful walk, I assure you; perfectly delightful. "

A NIGHT IN WHITECHAPEL

My friend Ledantec and I were twenty-five and we had come to London forthe first time in our lives. It was a Saturday evening in December, coldand foggy, and I think that all that combined is more than enough toexplain why my friend Ledantec and I were most abominably drunk, though, to tell the truth, we did not feel any discomfort from it. On thecontrary, we were floating in an atmosphere of perfect bliss. We did notspeak, certainly, for we were incapable of doing so, but then we had noinclination for conversation. What would be the good of it? We could soeasily read all our thoughts in each others eyes! And all our thoughtsconsisted in the sweet and unique knowledge, that we were thinking aboutnothing whatever. 

It was not, however, in order to arrive at that state of delicious, intellectual nihility, thai we had gone to mysterious Whitechapel. Wehad gone into the first public-house we saw, with the firm intention ofstudying manners and customs, --not to mention morals, --there asspectators, artists and philosophers, but in the second public-house weentered, we ourselves became like the objects of our investigations, that is to say, sponges soaked in alcohol. Between one public-house andthe other, the outer air seemed to squeeze those sponges, which then gotjust as dry as before, and thus we rolled from public-house topublic-house, until at last the sponges could not hold any more. 

Consequently, we had for some time bidden farewell to our studies inmorals, and now they were limited to two impressions: _zig-zags_ throughthe darkness outside, and a gleam of light outside the public-houses. Asto the inhibition of brandies, whiskies and gins, that was donemechanically, and our stomachs scarcely noticed it. 

But what strange beings we had elbowed with during our long stoppages!What a number of faces to be remembered, what clothes, what attitudes, what talk and what rags!

At first we tried to note them exactly in our memory, but there were somany of them, and our brain got mixed so quickly, that at present we hadno very clear recollection of anything or anybody. Even objects thatwere immediately before us appeared to us in a vague, duskyphantasmagoria and got confounded with precious objects in aninextricable manner. The world became a sort of kaleidoscope to us, seenin a dream through the penumbra of an aquarium. 

Suddenly we were aroused from this state of somnolence, awakened as ifby a blow in the chest, and imperiously forced to fix our attention onwhat we saw, for amidst this whirl of strange sights, one stranger thanall attracted our eyes and seemed to say to us: "Look at me. "

It was at the open door of a public-house. A ray of light streamed intothe street through the half-open door, and that brutal ray fell rightonto the specter that had just risen up there, dumb and motionless. 

For it was indeed a specter, pitiful and terrible, and, above all, mostreal, as it stood out boldly against the dark background of the street, which it made darker still behind it!

Young, yes; the woman was certainly young; there could be no doubt aboutthat, when one looked at her smooth skin, her smiling mouth which showedher white teeth, and firm bust which could be plainly noted under herthin dress. 

But then, how explain her perfectly white hair, not gray or growinggray, but absolutely white, as white as any octogenarian's?

And then her eyes, her eyes beneath her smooth brow, were surely theeyes of an old woman? Certainly they were, and of a woman one could nottell how old, for it must have taken years of trouble and sorrow, oftears and of sleepless nights, and a whole long existence, thus to dull, to wear out and to roughen those vitreous pupils. 

Vitreous? Not exactly that. For roughened glass still retains a dull andmilky brightness, a recollection, as it were, of its formertransparency. But her eyes seemed rather to have been made of metal, which had turned rusty, and really if pewter could rust I should havecompared them to pewter covered with rust. They had the dead color ofpewter, and at the same time, they emitted a glance which was the colorof reddish water. 

But it was not until some time later that I tried to define them thusapproximately by retrospective analysis. At that moment, beingaltogether incapable of such an effort, I could only establish in my ownmind the idea of extreme decrepitude and horrible old age, which theyproduced in my imagination. 

Have I said that they were set in very puffy eyelids, which had nolashes whatever, and on her forehead without wrinkles there was not avestige of eyebrow? When I tell you this, and considering their dulllook beneath the hair of an octogenarian, it is not surprising thatLedantec and I said in a low voice at the sight of this woman, who wasevidently young:

"Oh! poor, poor old woman!"

Her great age was further accentuated by the terrible poverty that wasrevealed by her dress. If she had been better dressed, her youthfullooks would, perhaps, have struck us more, but her thin shawl, which wasall that she had over her chemise, her single petticoat which was fullof holes, and almost in rags, and which did not nearly reach to her barefeet, her straw hat with ragged feathers and with ribbons of noparticular color through age, it all seemed so ancient, so prodigiouslyantique!

From what remote superannuated, abolished period did they all spring?One did not venture to guess, and by a perfectly natural association ofideas, one seemed to infer that the unfortunate creature herself, was asold as her clothes were. Now, by _one_, I mean by Ledantec and myself, that is to say, by two men who were abominably drunk and who werearguing with the special logic of intoxication. 

It was also under the softening influence of alcohol that we looked atthe vague smile on those lips with the teeth of a child, withoutstopping to reflect on the beauty of those youthful teeth, and seeingnothing except her fixed and almost idiotic smile, which no longercontrasted with the dull expression of her looks, but, on the contrary, strengthened them. For in spite of her teeth, it was the smile of an oldwoman in our imagination, and as for me, I was really pleased at thethought of being so acute when I inferred that this grandmother withsuch pale lips, had the set of teeth of a young girl, and still, thanksto the softening influence of alcohol, I was not angry with her for thisartifice. I even thought it particularly praiseworthy, since, after all, the poor creature thus carried out her calling conscientiously, whichwas to seduce us. For there was no possible doubt about the matter, thatthis grandmother was nothing more nor less than a prostitute. 

And then, drunk! Horribly drunk, much more drunk than Ledantec and Iwere, for we really could manage to say: "Oh! Pity the poor, poor oldwoman!" While she was incapable of articulating a single syllable, ofmaking a gesture, or even of imparting a gleam of promise, a furtiveflash of allurement to her eyes. With her hands crossed on her stomach, and resting against the front of the public-house, with her whole bodyas stiff as if she had been in a state of catalepsy, she had nothingalluring about her, except her sad smile, and that inspired us with allthe more pity because she was even more drunk than we were, and so, byidentical, spontaneous movement, we each of us seized her by an arm, totake her into the public-house with us. 

To our great astonishment she resisted, sprang back, and so was in theshadow again, out of the ray of light which came through the door, while, at the same time, she began to walk through the darkness and todrag us with her, for she was clinging to our arms. We followed herwithout speaking and without knowing where we were going, but withoutthe least uneasiness on that score. Only, when she suddenly burst intoviolent sobs as she walked, Ledantec and I began to sob in unison. 

The cold and the fog had suddenly congested our brains again, and we hadagain lost all precise consciousness of our acts, of our thoughts and ofour sensations. Our sobs had nothing of grief in them, but we werefloating in an atmosphere of perfect bliss, and I can remember that atthat moment it was no longer the exterior world which seemed to me as ifI were looking at it through the penumbra of an aquarium; it was Imyself, an _I_ composed of three, which was changing into something thatwas floating adrift in something, though what it was I did not know, composed of palpable fog and intangible water, and it was exquisitelydelightful. 

From that moment I remember nothing more until what follows, and whichhad the effect of a clap of thunder on me, and made me rise up from thebottom of the depth to which I had descended. 

Ledantec was standing in front of me, his face convulsed with horror, his hair standing on end and his eyes staring out of his head, and heshouted to me:--

"Let us escape! Let us escape!" Whereupon I opened my eyes wide, andfound myself lying on the ground, in a room into which daylight wasshining. I saw some rags hanging against the wall, two chairs, a brokenjug lying on the floor by my side, and in a corner a wretched bed onwhich a woman was lying, who was no doubt dead, for her head was hangingover the side, and her long white hair reached almost to my feet. 

With a bound I was up, like Ledantec. 

"What!" I said to him, while my teeth chattered: "Did you kill her?"

"No, no, " he replied. "But that makes no difference; let us be off. "

I felt completely sober by that time, but I did think that he was stillsuffering somewhat from the effects of last night's drunk; otherwise, why should he wish to escape? while the remains of pity for theunfortunate woman forced me to say:--

"What is the matter with her? If she is ill, we must look after her. "

And I went to the wretched bed, in order to put her head back on thepillow, but I discovered that she was neither dead nor ill, but onlysound asleep, and I also noticed that she was quite young. She stillwore that idiotic smile, but her teeth were her own and those of a girl. Her smooth skin and her firm bust showed that she was not more thansixteen; perhaps not so much. 

"There! You see it, you can see it!" Ledantec said. "Let us be off. "

He tried to drag me out, and he was still drunk; I could see it by hisfeverish movements, his trembling hands and his nervous looks. Then heimplored me and said:--

"I slept beside the old woman; but she is not old. Look at her; look ather; yes, she is old after all!"

And he lifted up her long hair by handfuls; it was like handfuls ofwhite silk, and then he added, evidently in a sort of delirium, whichmade me fear an attack of _delirium tremens_: "To think that I havebegotten children, three, four children. Who knows how many children, all in one night! And they were born immediately, and have grown upalready! Let us be off. "

Decidedly it was an attack of madness. Poor Ledantec! What could I dofor him? I took his arm and tried to calm him, but he thought that I wasgoing to try and make him go to bed with her again, and he pushed meaway and exclaimed with tears in his voice: "If you do not believe me, look under the bed; the children are there; they are there, I tell you. Look here, just look here. "

He threw himself down, flat on his stomach, and actually pulled out one, two, three, four children, who had hidden under the bed. I do notexactly know whether they were boys or girls, but all, like the sleepingwoman, had white hair, the hair of an octogenarian. 

Was I still drunk, like Ledantec, or was I mad? What was the meaning ofthis strange hallucination? I hesitated for a moment, and shook myselfto be sure that it was I. 

No, no, I had all my wits about me, and I in reality saw that horriblelot of little brats; they all had their faces in their hands, and werecrying and squalling, and then suddenly one of them jumped onto the bed;all the others followed his example, and the woman woke up. 

And then we stood, while those five pairs of eyes, without eyebrows oreyelashes, eyes with the dull color of pewter, and whose pupils had thecolor of red water, were steadily fixed on us. 

"Let us be off! let us be off!" Ledantec repeated, leaving go of me, andat that time I paid attention to what he said, and, after throwing somesmall change onto the floor, I followed him, to make him understand, when he should be quite sober, that he saw before him a poor Albinoprostitute, who had several brothers and sisters. 

COUNTESS SATAN

I

They were discussing dynamite, the social revolution, Nihilism, and eventhose who cared least about politics, had something to say. Some werealarmed, others philosophized, while others again, tried to smile. 

"Bah!" N---- said, "when we are all blown up, we shall see what it islike. Perhaps, after all, it may be an amusing sensation, provided onegoes high enough. "

"But we shall not be blown up at all, " G---- the optimist, said, interrupting him. "It is all a romance. "

"You are mistaken, my dear fellow, " Jules de C---- replied. "It is like aromance, but with that confounded Nihilism, everything seems like one, but it would be a mistake to trust to it. Thus, I myself, the manner inwhich I made Bakounine's acquaintance ... "

They knew that he was a good narrator, and it was no secret that hislife had been an adventurous one, so they drew closer to him, andlistened religiously. This is what he told them. 

II

"I met Countess Nioska W----, that strange woman who was usually calledCountess Satan, in Naples; I immediately attached myself to her out ofcuriosity, and I soon fell in love with her. Not that she was beautiful, for she was a Russian who had all the bad characteristics of the Russiantype. She was thin and squat, at the same time, while her face wassallow and puffy, with high cheek bones and a Cossack's nose. But herconversation bewitched every one. 

"She was many-sided, learned, a philosopher, scientifically depraved, satanic. Perhaps the word is rather pretentious, but it exactlyexpresses what I want to say, for in other words, she loved evil for thesake of evil. She rejoiced in other people's vices, and liked to sow theseeds of evil, in order to see it flourish. And that on a fraud, on anenormous scale. It was not enough for her to corrupt individuals; sheonly did that to keep her hand in; what she wished to do, was to corruptthe masses. By slightly altering it after her own fashion, she mighthave adopted the famous saying of Caligula. She also wished that thewhole human race had but one head; but not in order that she might cutit off, but that she might make the philosophy of _Nihility_ flourishthere. 

"What a temptation to become the lord and master of such a monster! AndI allowed myself to be tempted, and undertook the adventure. The meanscame unsought for by me, and the only thing that I had to do, was toshow myself more perverted and satanical that she was herself. --And so Iplayed the devil. 

"'Yes, ' I said, 'we writers are the best workmen for doing evil, as ourbooks may be bottles of poison. The so-called men of action, only turnthe handle of the mitrailleuse which we have loaded. Formulas willdestroy the world, and it is we who invent them. '

"'That is true, ' she said, 'and that is what is wanting in Bakounine, Iam sorry to say. '

"That name was constantly in her mouth, and so I asked her for details, which she gave me, as she knew the man intimately. 

"'After all, ' she said, with a contemptuous grimace, 'he is only a kindof Garibaldi. '

"She told me, although she made fun of him as she did so, about hisOdyssey of the barricades and of the hulks which made up Bakounine'slegend, and which is, nevertheless, only the exact truth; his part ofchief of the insurgents, at Prague and then at Dresden; his first deathsentence; about his imprisonment at Olmütz and in the casemates of thefortress of St. Peter and St. Paul; in a subterranean dungeon atSchüsselburg; about his exile to Siberia and his wonderful escape downthe river Amour, on a Japanese coasting-vessel by way of Yokohama andSan Francisco, and about his final arrival in London, whence he wasdirecting all the operations of Nihilism. 

"'You see, ' she said, 'he is a thorough adventurer, and now all hisadventures are over. He got married at Tobolsk and became a mererespectable, middle-class man. And then, he has no individual ideas. Herzen, the phamphleteer of _Kolokol_ inspired him with the only fertilephrase that he ever uttered: _Land and Liberty!_ But that is not yet thedefinite formula, the general formula; what I will call, the dynamiteformula. At best, Bakounine would become an incendiary, and burn downcities. And what is that, I ask you? Bah? A second-hand Rostopchin! Hewants a prompter, and I offered to become his but he did not take meseriously. ' ... 

"It would be useless to enter into all the Psychological details whichmarked the course of my passion for the Countess, and to explain to youmore fully the attraction of curiosity which she offered me more andmore every day. It was getting exasperating, and the more so, as sheresisted me as stoutly as the shyest of innocents could have done, butat the end of a month of mad Satanism, I saw what her game was. Do youknow what she had thought of? She meant to make me Bakounine's prompter, or, at any rate, that is what she said. But no doubt she reserved theright to herself, and that is how I understood her, to prompt theprompter, and my passion for her, which she purposely left unsatisfied, assured her that absolute power over me. 

"All this may appear madness to you, but it is, nevertheless, the exacttruth, and, in short, one morning she bluntly made the offer: 'BecomeBakounine's soul, and you shall have me. '

"Of course, I accepted, for it was too fantastically strange to refuse;do you think so? What an adventure! What luck! A number of lettersbetween the Countess and Bakounine prepared the way; I was introduced tohim at his house, and they discussed me there. I became a sort ofWestern prophet, a mystic charmer who was ready to nihilate the Latinraces, the Saint Paul of the new religion of nothingness, and at last aday was fixed for us to meet in London. He lived in a small, one-storiedhouse in Pimlico, with a tiny garden in front, and nothing noticeableabout it. 

"We were first of all shown into the commonplace parlor of all Englishhomes, and then upstairs. The room where the Countess and I were left, was small, and very badly furnished, with a square table with writingmaterials on it, in the middle. That was his sanctuary; the deity soonappeared, and I saw him in flesh and bone; especially in flesh, for hewas enormously stout. His broad face, with prominent cheek-bones, inspite of the fat; and with a nose like a double funnel, with small, sharp eyes, which had a magnetic look, proclaimed the Tartar, the oldTuranian blood, which produced the Attilas, the Gengis-Khams, theTamerlanes. The obesity, which is characteristic of the nomad races, whoare always on horseback or driving, added to his Asiatic look. The manwas certainly not a European, a slave, a descendant of the deisticAryans, but a descendant of the Atheistic hordes, who had several timesalready almost overrun Europe, and who, instead of any ideas ofprogress, have the belief in nihility, at the bottom of their hearts. 

"I was astonished, for I had not expected that the majesty of a wholerace, could be thus revived in a man, and my stupefaction increasedafter an hour's conversation. I could quite understand why such aColossus had not wished for the Countess as his Egeria; she was a meresilly child to have dreamt of acting such a part to such a thinker. Shehad not felt the profoundness of that horrible philosophy which washidden under that material activity, nor had she seen the prophet underthat man of the barricades. Or, perhaps, he had not thought it advisableto reveal himself to her like that; but he revealed himself to me, andinspired me with terror. 

"A prophet? Oh! yes. He thought himself an Attila, and foresaw theconsequences of his revolution; it was not only from instinct, but alsofrom theory that he urged a nation on to nihilism. The phrase is nothis, but Tourgueneff's, I believe, but the idea certainly belongs tohim. He got his program of agricultural communism from Herzen, and hisdestructive radicalism from Pougatcheff, but he did not stop there. Imean that he went on to evil for the sake of evil. Herzen wished for thehappiness of the Slav peasant; Pougatcheff wanted to be elected Emperor, but all that Bakounine wanted, was to overthrow the actual order ofthings, no matter by what means, and to replace social concentration bya universal upheaval. 

"It was the dream of a Tartar; it was true nihilism pushed to extremepractical conclusions. It was, in a word, the applied philosophy ofchance, the indeterminateism of anarchy. Monstrous it may be, but grandin its monstrosity. 

"And you must note, that the man of action who was so despised by theCountess, discovered in Bakounine the gigantic dreamer whom I have justshown you, and his dream did not remain a dream, but began to berealized. It was by the care of that organizer that the Nihilistic partyassumed a body; a party in which there is a little of everything, youknow; but on the whole, a formidable party, on account of the advancedguard in true Nihilism, whose object is nothing less than to destroy theWestern world, to see it blossom from under the ruins of a generaldispersion, which is the last conception of modern Tartarism. 

"I never saw Bakounine again, for the Countess's conquest would havebeen too dearly bought by any attempt to act a comedy with this_Old-Man-of-the-Mountains_. And besides that, after this visit, poorCountess Satan appeared to me quite silly. Her famous Satanism wasnothing but the flicker of a spirit-lamp, after the generalconflagration of which the other had dreamt, and she had certainly shownherself very silly, when she could not understand that prodigiousmonster. And as she had seduced me, only by her intellect and herperversity, I was disgusted as soon as she laid aside that mask. I lefther without telling her of my intention, and never saw her again, either. 

"No doubt they both took me for a spy from the _Third section of theImperial Chancellery_. In that case, they must have thought me verystrong to have resisted, and all I have to do is to look out, if anyaffiliated members of their society recognize me!... "

III

Then he smiled, and turning to the waiter who had just come in, he said:"Meanwhile, open us another bottle of champagne, and make the cork pop!It will, at any rate, somewhat accustom us to the day when we shall allbe blown up with dynamite ourselves. "

KIND GIRLS

Every Friday, regularly, at about eleven o'clock in the morning, he cameinto the courtyard, put down his soft hat at his feet, struck a fewchords on his guitar and then began a ballad in his full, rich voice. And soon at every window in the four sides of that dull, barrack-likebuilding, some girls appeared, one in an elegant dressing gown, anotherin a little jacket, most of them with their breasts and arms bare, allof them just out of bed, with their hair hastily twisted up, their eyesblinking in the sudden blaze of sunlight, their complexions dull andtheir eyes still heavy from want of sleep. 

They swayed themselves backwards and forwards to his slow melody, andgave themselves up to the enjoyment of it, and coppers, and even silver, poured into the handsome singer's hat, and more than one of them wouldhave liked to have followed the penny which she threw to him, and tohave gone with the singer who had the voice of a siren, and who seemedto say to all these amorous girls; "Come, come to my retreat, where youwill find a palace of crystal and gold, and wreaths which are alwaysfresh, and happiness and love which never die. "

That was what they seemed to hear, those unhappy girls, when they heardhim sing the songs of the old legends, which they had formerly believed. That was what they understood by the foolish words of the ballad. Thenand nothing else, for how could any one doubt it, on seeing the freshroses on their cheeks, and the tender flame which flickered like amystic night-light in their eyes, which had, for the moment, become theeyes of innocent young girls again? But of young girls, who had grown upvery quickly, alas! who were very precocious, and who very soon becamethe women that they were, poor vendors of love, always in search of lovefor which they were paid. 

That was why, when he had finished his second ballad, and sometimes evensooner, concupiscent looks appeared in their eyes. The boatman of theirdreams, the water-sprite of fairy tales, vanished in the mist of theirchildish recollections, and the singer re-assumed his real shape, thatof musician and strolling player, whom they wished to pay, to be theirlover. And the coppers and small silver were showered on him again, withengaging smiles, with the leers of a street-walker, even with: "_p'st, p'st_, " which soon transformed the barrack-like courtyard into anenormous cage full of twittering birds, while some of them could notrestrain themselves, but said aloud, rolling their eyes with desire:"How handsome the creature is! Good heavens, how handsome he is!"

He was really handsome, and nobody could deny it, and even too handsome, with a regular beauty which almost palled on people. He had large, almond-shaped, gentle eyes, a Grecian nose, a bow-shaped mouth, hiddenby a heavy moustache, and long, black, curly hair; in short, a head fitto be put into a hair-dresser's window, or, better still, perhaps, ontothe front page of the ballads which he was singing. But what made himstill handsomer, was that his self-conceit had a look of sovereignindifference for he was not satisfied with not replying to the smiles, the ogles, and the _p'st, p'st's_, by taking no notice of them; butwhen he had finished he shrugged his shoulders, he winked mischievously, and turned his lips contemptuously, which said very clearly: "The stoveis not being heated for you, my little kittens!"

Often, one might have thought that he expressly wished to show hiscontempt, and that he tried to make himself thought unpoetical in theeyes of all those amorous girls, and to check their love, for he clearedhis throat ostentatiously and offensively, more than was necessary, after singing, as if he would have liked to spit at them. But all thatdid not make him unpoetical in their eyes, and many of them, most ofthem, who were absolutely mad on him, went so far as to say that _he didit like a swell_!

The girl, who in her enthusiasm had been the first to utter thatexclamation of intense passion, and who, after throwing him smallsilver, had thrown him a twenty-franc gold piece, at last made up hermind to have an explanation. Instead of a _p'st, p'st_, she spoke to himboldly one morning, in the presence of all the others, who religiouslyheld their tongues. 

"Come up here, " she called out to him, and from habit she added: "I willbe very nice, you handsome dark fellow. "

At first they were dumbfounded at her audacity, and then all theircheeks flushed with jealousy, and the flame of mad desire shot fromtheir eyes, from every window there came a perfect torrent of:

"Yes, come up, come up. " "Don't go to her! Come to me. "

And, meanwhile, there was a shower of half-pence, of francs, of goldcoins, as well as of cigars and oranges, while lace pockethandkerchiefs, silk neckties, and scarfs fluttered in the air and fellround the singer, like a flight of many colored butterflies. 

He picked up the spoil calmly, almost carelessly, stuffed the money intohis pocket, made a bundle of the furbelows, which he tied up as if theyhad been soiled linen, and then raising himself up, and putting his felthat on his head, he said:

"Thank you, ladies, but indeed I cannot. "

They thought that he did not know how to satisfy so many demands atonce, and one of them said: "Let him choose. "

"Yes, yes, that is it!" they all exclaimed unanimously. 

But he repeated: "I tell you, I cannot. "

They thought he was excusing himself out of gallantry, and several ofthem exclaimed, almost with tears of emotion: "Women are all heart!" Andthe same voice that had spoken before, (it was one of the girls whowished to settle the matter amicably), said: "We must draw lots. "

"Yes, yes, that is it, " they all cried. And again there was a religioussilence, more religious than before, for it wras caused by anxiety, andthe beatings of their hearts may have been heard. 

The singer profited by it, to say slowly: "I cannot have that either;nor all of you at once, nor one after the other; nothing! I tell youthat I cannot. "

"Why? Why?" And now they were almost screaming, for they were angry andsorry at the same time. Their cheeks had gone from scarlet to livid, their eyes flashed fire, and some shook their fists menacingly. 

"Silence!" the girl cried, who had spoken first. "Be quiet, you pack ofhuzzys! Let him explain himself, and tell us why!"

"Yes, yes, let us be quiet! Make him explain himself in God's name!"

Then, in the fierce silence that ensued, the singer said, opening hisarms wide, with a gesture of despairing inability to do what theywanted:

"What do you want? It is very amusing, but I cannot do more. I have twogirls of my own already, at home. "

PROFITABLE BUSINESS

He certainly did not think himself a saint, nor had he any hypocriticalpretensions to virtue, but, nevertheless, he thought as highly ofhimself as much as he did of anybody else, and perhaps, even a triflemore highly. And that, quite impartially, without any more self lovethan was necessary, and without his having to accuse himself of beingself conceited. He did himself justice, that was all, for he had goodmoral principles, and he applied them, especially, if the truth must betold, not only to judging the conduct of others, but also, it must beallowed, in a measure for regulating his own conduct, as he would havebeen very vexed if he had been able to think of himself:

"On the whole, I am what people call a perfectly honorable man. "

Luckily, he had never (oh! never), been obliged to doubt that excellentopinion which he had of himself, which he liked to express thus, in hismoments of rhetorical expansion:

"My whole life gives me the right to shake hands with myself. "

Perhaps a subtle psychologist would have found some flaws in this armorof integrity, which was sanctimoniously satisfied with itself. It was, for example, quite certain that our friend had no scruples in makingprofit out of the vices or misfortunes of his neighbors, provided thathe was not in his own opinion, the person who was solely, or chieflyresponsible for them. But, on the whole, it was only one manner oflooking at it, nothing more, and there were plenty of materials forcasuistic arguments in it. This kind of discussion is particularlyunpleasant to such simple natures as that of his worthy fellow, whowould have replied to the psychologist. 

"Why go on a wild goose chase? As for me, I am perfectly sincere. "

You must not, however, believe that this perfect sincerity prevented himfrom having elevated views. He prided himself on having a weakness forimagination and the unforeseen, and if he would have been offended atbeing called a dishonorable man, he would, perhaps have been still morehurt if anybody had attributed middle-class tastes to him. 

Accordingly, in love affairs, he expressed a most virtuous horror ofadultery, for if he had committed it, it would not have been able tobear that testimony to himself, which was so sweet to his conscience:

"Ah! As for me, I can declare that I never wronged anybody!"

While, on the other hand, he was not satisfied with pleasure which waspaid for by the hour, and which debases _the noblest desires of theheart_, to the vulgar satisfaction of a physical requirement. What herequired, so he used to say, while lifting his eyes up to heaven was:

"Something rather more ideal than that!"

That search after the ideal did not, indeed, cost him any great effort, as it was limited to not going to licensed houses of ill-fame, and tonot accosting streetwalkers with the simple words: "How much?"

It consisted chiefly in wishing to be gallant even with such women, andin trying to persuade himself that they liked him for his own sake, andin preferring those whose manner, dress and looks allowed room forsuppositions and romantic illusions, such as:

"She might be taken for a little work-girl who has not yet lost hervirtue. "

"No, I rather think she is a widow, who has met with misfortunes. "

"What if she be a fashionable lady in disguise!"

And other nonsense, which he knew to be such, even while imagining it, but whose imaginary flavor was very pleasant to him, all the same. 

With such tastes, it was only natural that this pilgrim followed andpushed up against women in the large shops, and whenever there was acrowd, and that he especially looked out for those ladies of easyvirtue, for nothing is more exciting than those half-closed shutters, behind which a face is indistinctly seen, and from which one hears afurtive: _"P'st! P'st!"_

He used to say to himself: "Who is she? Is she young and pretty? Is shesome old woman, who is terribly skillful at her business, but who yetdoes not venture to show herself any longer? Or is she some newbeginner, who has not yet acquired the boldness of an old hand? In anycase, it is the unknown, perhaps, that is my ideal during the time ittakes me to find my way upstairs;" and always as he went up, his heartbeat, as it does at a first meeting with a beloved mistress. 

But he had never felt such a delicious shiver as he did on the day onwhich he penetrated into that old house in the blind alley inMénilmontant. He could not have said why, for he had often gone afterso-called love in much stranger places; but now, without any reason, hehad a presentiment that he was going to meet with an adventure, and thatgave him a delightful sensation. 

The woman who had made the sign to him, lived on the third floor, andall the way upstairs his excitement increased, until his heart wasbeating violently when he reached the landing. At the same time, he wasgoing up, he smelt a peculiar odor, which grew stronger and stronger, and which he had tried in vain to analyze, though all he could arrive atwas, that it smelt like a chemist's shop. 

The door on the right, at the end of the passage, was opened as soon ashe put his foot on the landing, and the woman said, in a low voice:

"Come in, my dear. "

A whiff of a very strong smell met his nostrils through the open door, and suddenly he exclaimed:

"How stupid I was! I know what it is now; it is carbolic acid, is itnot?"

"Yes, " the woman replied. "Don't you like it, dear? It is verywholesome, you know. "

The woman was not ugly, although not young; she had very good eyes, although they were sad and sunken in her head; evidently she had beencrying, very much quite recently, and that imparted a special spice tothe vague smile which she put on, so as to appear more amiable. 

Seized by his romantic ideas once more, and under the influence of thepresentiment which he had had just before, he thought--and the ideafilled him with pleasure:

"She is some widow, whom poverty has forced to sell herself. "

The room was small, but very clean and tidy, and that confirmed him inhis conjecture, as he was curious to verify its truth, he went into thethree rooms which opened into one another. The bedroom, came first;next there came a kind of a drawing-room, and then a dining-room, whichevidently served as a kitchen, for a Dutch tiled stove stood in themiddle of it, on which a stew was simmering, but the smell of carbolicacid was even stronger in that room. He remarked on it, and added with alaugh:

"Do you put it with your soup?"

And as he said this, he laid hold of the handle of the door which ledinto the next room, for he wanted to see everything, even that nook, which was apparently a store cupboard, but the woman seized him by thearm, and pulled him violently back. 

"No, no, " she said, almost in a whisper, and in a hoarse and suppliantvoice, "no, dear, not there, not there, you must not go in there. "

"Why?" he said, for his wish to go in had only become stronger. 

"Because if you go in there, you will have no inclination to remain withme, and I so want you to stay. If you only knew!"

"Well, what?" And with a violent movement, he opened the glazed door, when the smell of carbolic acid seemed almost to strike him in the face, but what he saw, made him recoil still more, for on a small ironbedstead, lay the dead body of a woman fantastically illuminated by asingle wax candle, and in horror he turned to make his escape. 

"Stop, my dear, " the woman sobbed; and clinging to him, she told himamidst a flood of tears, that her friend had died two days previously, and that there was no money to bury her. "Because, " she said, "you canunderstand that I want it to be a respectable funeral, we were so veryfond of each other! Stop here, my dear, do stop. I only want ten francsmore. Don't go away. "

They had gone back into the bedroom, and she was pushing him towardsthe bed:

"No, " he said, "let me go. I will give you the ten francs, but I willnot stay here; I cannot. "

He took his purse out of his pocket, extracted a ten-franc piece, put iton the table, and then went to the door; but when he had reached it, athought suddenly struck him, as if somebody were reasoning with him, without his knowledge. 

"Why lose these ten francs? Why not profit by this woman's goodintentions. She certainly did her business bravely, and if I had notknown about the matter, I should certainly not have gone away for sometime ... Well then?"

But other obscurer suggestions whispered to him:

"She was her friend! ... They were so fond of each other! Was itfriendship or love? Oh! love apparently. Well, it would surely beavenging morality, if this woman were forced to be faithless to thatmonstrous love?" And suddenly the man turned round and said in a low andtrembling voice: "Look here! If I give you twenty francs instead of ten, I suppose you could buy some flowers for her, as well?"

The unhappy woman's face brightened with pleasure and gratitude. 

"Will you really give me twenty?"

"Yes, " he replied, "and more perhaps. It quite depends upon yourself. "

And with the quiet conscience of an honorable man who, at the same time, is not a fool he said gravely:

"You need only be very complaisant. "

And he added, mentally: "Especially as I deserve it, as in giving youtwenty francs I am performing a good action. "

VIOLATED

"Really, " Paul repeated, "really!"

"Yes, I who am here before you have been violated, and violated by!... But if I were to tell you immediately by whom, there would be no story, eh? And as you want a story, eh? And as you want a story, I will tellyou all about it from beginning to end, and I shall begin at thebeginning. 

"I had been shooting over the waste land in the heart of Brittany for aweek, which borders on the Black Mountain. It is a desolate and wildcountry, but it abounds in game. One can walk for hours without meetinga human being, and when one meets anybody, it is just the same as if onehad not, for the people are absolutely ignorant of French, and when Igot to an inn at night, I had to employ signs to let the people knowthat I wanted supper and bed. 

"As I happened to be in a melancholy frame of mind at the time, thatsolitude delighted me, and my dog's companionship was quite enough forme, and so you may guess my irritation when I perceived one morning thatI was being followed, absolutely followed, by another sportsman whoseemed to wish to enter into conversation with me. The day before, I hadalready noticed him obstructing the horizon several times, and I hadattributed it to the chances of sport, which brought us both to the samelikely spots for game, but now I could not be mistaken! The fellow wasevidently following me, and was stretching his little pair of compassesas much as he could, so as to keep up with my long strides, and tookshort cuts, so as to catch me up at the half circle. 

"As he seemed bent upon the matter, I naturally grew obstinate also, andhe spent his whole day in trying to catch me up, while I spent mine intrying to baffle him, and we seemed to be playing at _hide-and-seek_;the consequences were, that when it was getting dark, I had completelylost myself in the most deserted part of the moor. There was no cottagenear, and not even a church spire in the distance. The only land-mark, was the hateful outline of that cursed man, about five hundred yardsoff. 

"Of course he had won the game! I should have to put a good face on thematter, and allow him to join me, or rather I should have to join himmyself, if I did not wish to sleep in the open air and with an emptystomach, and so I went up to him, and asked my way in a half-surlymanner. 

"He replied very affably, that there was no inn in the neighborhood, asthe nearest village was five leagues off, but that he lived only aboutan hour's walk off, and that he considered himself very fortunate inbeing able to offer me hospitality. 

"I was utterly done up, and how could I refuse? So we went off throughthe heather and furze; I walking slowly because I was so tired, and hewent tripping along merrily with his legs like a basset hound's, whichseemed untirable. 

"And yet he was an old man, and not strongly built, for I could haveknocked him over by blowing on him; but how he could walk, the beast!

"But he was not a troublesome companion, as I imagined he would havebeen, and he did not at all seem to wish to enter into conversation withme, as I feared he would. When he had given his invitation, and I hadaccepted it and thanked him in a few words, he did not open his lipsagain, and we walked on in silence, and only his glances worried me, forI felt them on me, as if he wished to force me into an intimacy, whichmy closed lips refused. But on the whole, his tenacious looks, which Inoticed furtively, appeared sympathetic and even admiring--yes; reallyadmiring!

"But I could not give him as good as he brought, for he was certainlynot handsome; his legs were short, and rather bandy and he was thin andnarrow-chested. His face was like a bit of parchment, furrowed andwrinkled, without a hair on it to hide the folds in his skin. His hairresembled that of an _Ignorantin_[9] brother, with its gray locksfalling onto his greasy collar; he had a nose like a ferret, and rat'seyes, but he was able to offer me food and quarters for the night, andit was not requisite that he should be handsome, in order to do that. 

[Footnote 9: A lay brother in a monastery, who is devoted to theinstruction of the poor. --TRANSLATOR. ]

"Capital food, and very comfortable quarters! A manorial dwelling, areal old, well-furnished manor-house; and in the large dining-room, infront of the huge fireplace, where a large fire was blazing, dinner waslaid; I will say no more than that! A hotch-potch, which had beenstewing since morning, no doubt! A _salmis_ of woodcock, in defense ofwhich angels would have taken up arms; buckwheat cakes, in cream, flavored with aniseed, and a cheese, which is a rare thing and hardlyever to be found in Brittany, a cheese to make any one eat a four poundloaf if he only smelt the rind! The whole washed clown by Chambertin, and then brandy distilled by cider, which was so good that it made a manfancy that he had swallowed a deity in velvet breeches; not to mentionthe cigars, pure, smuggled havannahs; large, strong, not dry but green, on the contrary, which made a strong and intoxicating smoke. 

"And how the little old gentleman stuffed, and drank and smoked! He wasan ogre, a choirister, a sapper, and so was I, I must confess, and, uponmy word, I cannot remember what we talked about during our Gargantuanfeed! But we certainly talked, but what about? About shooting, certainly, and about women most probably. Confound it! Among men, afterdrinking! Yes, yes, about women, I am quite sure, and he told some funnystories, did the little old man! Especially about a portrait which washanging over the large fireplace, and which represented hisgrandmother, a marchioness of the old régime. She was a woman who hadcertainly played some pranks, and they said that she was still friskyand had good legs and thighs when she was seventy. 

"'It is extraordinary, ' I remarked, 'how like you are to that portrait. '

"'Yes, ' the old man replied with a smile; and then he added in hisharsh, tremulous voice: 'I resemble her in everything. I am only sixty, and I feel as if I should have lusty, hot blood in me until I amseventy. '

"And then suddenly, very much moved, and looking at me admiringly, as hehad done once before, he said to the portrait:

"'I say, marchioness, what a pity that you did not know this handsomeyoung fellow!'

"I remembered that apostrophe and that look very well, when I went tobed about an hour later, nearly drunk, in the large room papered inwhite and gold, to which I was shown by a tall, broad-shoulderedfootman, who wished me good-night in Breton. 

"_Good-night_, yes! But that implied going to sleep, which was just whatI could not do. The Chambertin, the cider brandy and the cigars hadcertainly made me drunk, but not so as to overcome me altogether. On thecontrary, I was excited, my nerves were highly strung, my blood washeated, and I was in a half-sleep in which I felt that I was very muchalive, and my whole being was in a vibration and expansion, just as if Ihad been smoking hashecah. 

"Of course! That was it; I was dreaming while I was awake; but I saw thedoor open and the marchioness come in, who had stepped down, out of herframe. She had taken off her furbelows, and was in her nightgown. Herhigh head-dress was replaced by a simple knot of ribbon, which confinedher powdered hair into a small chignon, but I recognized her quiteplainly, by the trembling light of the candle which she was carrying. Itwas her face with its piercing eyes, its pointed nose and its smilingand sensual mouth. She did not look so young to me as she appeared inher portrait. Bah! Perhaps that was merely caused by the feeble, flickering light! But I had not even time to account for it, not toreflect on the strangeness of the sight, nor to discuss the matter withmyself and to say: 'Am I dead drunk, or is it a ghost?'

"No, I had no time, and that is the fact, for the candle was suddenlyblown out and the marchioness was in my bed and holding me in her arms, and one fixed idea, the only one that I had, haunted me, which was:

"'Had the marchioness good limbs, and was she still frisky at seventy?'And I did not care much if she was seventy and if she was a ghost ornot; I only thought of one thing: 'Has she really good limbs?'"

"By Jove, yes! She did not speak. Oh, marchioness! marchioness! Andsuddenly in spite of myself and to convince myself that it was not amere fantastic dream, I exclaimed:

"'Why, good heavens! I am not dreaming!'

"'No, you are not dreaming, ' two lips replied, trying to pressthemselves against mine. 

"But, oh! horror! The mouth smelt of cigars and brandy! The voice wasthat of the little old man!

"With a bound I sent him flying on to the ground, and jumped out of bed, shouting:

"'Beast! beast!'

"Then I heard the door slam, and bare feet pattering on the stairs as heran away; so I dressed hastily in the dark and went downstairs, stillshouting. 

"In the hall below, where I could see through the upper windows that thedawn was breaking, I met the broad-shouldered footman, who was holding agreat cudgel in his hand. He was bawling also, in Breton, and pointed tothe open door, outside where my dog was waiting. What could I say tothis savage who did not speak French? Should I face his cudgel? Therewas no reason for doing so; and besides, I was even more ashamed thanfurious; so I hastily took up my gun and my game-bag, which were in thehall, and went off without turning round. 

"Disgusted with sport in that part of the country, I returned to Brestthe same day, and there, timidly and with many precautions, I tried tofind out something about the little old man.... 

"'Oh, I know!' somebody replied at last to my question; 'you arespeaking of the manor-house at Hervénidozse, where the old countesslives, who dresses like a man and sleeps with her coachman. '

"And with a deep sigh of relief, and much to the astonishment of myinformant, I replied:

"'Oh! so much the better!'"

JEROBOAM

Anyone who said, or even insinuated, that the Reverend WilliamGreenfield, Vicar of St. Sampson's, Tottenham, did not make his wifeAnna perfectly happy, would certainly have been very malicious. In theirtwelve years of married life, he had honored her with twelve children, and could anybody decently ask anything more of a saintly man?

Saintly to heroism in truth! For his wife Anna, who was endowed withinvaluable virtues, which made her a model among wives and a paragonamong mothers, had not been equally endowed physically, for, in oneword, she was hideous. Her hair, which was coarse though it was thin, was the color of the national _half-and-half_, but of thick_half-and-half_ which looked as if it had been already swallowed severaltimes, and her complexion, which was muddy and pimply, looked as if itwere covered with sand mixed with brickdust. Her teeth, which were longand protruding, seemed as if they were about to start out of theirsockets in order to escape from that mouth with scarcely any lips, whosesulphurous breath had turned them yellow. They were evidently sufferingfrom bile. 

Her china-blue eyes looked vaguely, one very much to the right and theother very much to the left, with a divergent and frightened squint; nodoubt in order that they might not see her nose, of which they feltashamed. And they were quite right! Thin, soft, long, pendant, sallow, and ending in a violet knob, it irresistibly reminded those who saw itof something which cannot be mentioned except in a medical treatise. Herbody, through the inconceivable irony of nature, was at the same timethin and flabby, wooden and chubby, without having either the eleganceof slimness or the rounded gracefulness of stoutness. It might have beentaken for a body which had formerly been adipose, but which had nowgrown thin, while the covering had remained floating on the framework. 

She was evidently nothing but skin and bones, but then she had too manybones and too little skin. 

It will be seen that the reverend gentleman had done his duty, his wholeduty, more than his duty, in sacrificing a dozen times on this altar. Yes, a dozen times bravely and loyally! A dozen times, and his wifecould not deny it nor dispute the number, because the children werethere to prove it. A dozen times, and not one less!

And alas! not once more; and that was the reason why, in spite ofappearances, Mrs. Anna Greenfield ventured to think, in the depths ofher heart, that the Reverend William Greenfield, Vicar of St. Sampson's, Tottenham, had not made her perfectly happy; and she thought so all themore as, for four years now, she had been obliged to renounce all hopeof that annual sacrifice, which was so easy and so fugitive formerly, but which had now fallen into disuse. In fact, at the birth of thetwelfth child, the reverend gentleman had expressly said to her:

"God has greatly blessed our union, my dear Anna. We have reached thesacred number of the twelve tribes of Israel, and were we now topersevere in the works of the flesh, it would be mere debauchery, and Icannot suppose that you would wish me to end my exemplary life inlustful practices. "

His wife blushed and looked down, and the holy man, with the legitimatepride of virtue which is its own reward, audibly thanked Heaven that hewas "not as other men are. "

A model among wives and the paragon of mothers, Anna lived with him forfour years on those terms, without complaining to anyone, and contentedherself by praying fervently to God that He would mercifully inspire herhusband with the desire to begin a second series of the twelve tribes. At times even, in order to make her prayers more efficacious, she triedto compass that end by culinary means. She spared no pains, and gorgedthe reverend gentleman with highly-seasoned dishes. Hare soup, ox-tailsstewed in sherry, the green fat in turtle soup, stewed mushrooms, Jerusalem artichokes, celery, and horse-radish; hot sauces, truffles, hashes with wine and cayenne pepper in them, curried lobsters, pies madeof cocks' combs, oysters, and the soft roe of fish; and all these disheswere washed down by strong beer and generous wines, Scotch ale, Burgundy, dry champagne, brandy, whiskey and gin; in a word, by thatnumberless array of alcoholic drinks with which the English people loveto heat their blood. 

And, as a matter of fact, the reverend gentleman's blood became veryheated, as was shown by his nose and cheeks, but in spite of this, thepowers above were inexorable, and he remained quite indifferent asregards his wife, who was unhappy and thoughtful at the sight of thatprotruding nasal appendage, which, alas! was alone in its glory. 

She became thinner, and at the same time, flabbier than ever, and almostbegan to lose her trust in God, when, suddenly, she had an inspiration. Was it not, perhaps, the work of devil?

She did not care to inquire too closely into the matter, as she thoughtit a very good idea, and it was this:

"Go to the Universal Exhibition in Paris, and there, perhaps, you willdiscover the secret to make yourself loved. "

Decidedly luck favored her, for her husband immediately gave herpermission to go, and as soon as she got into the _Esplanade desInvalides_, she saw the Algerian dancers, and she said to herself. 

"Surely this would inspire William with the desire to be the father ofthe thirteenth tribe!"

But how could she manage to get him to be present at such abominableorgies? For she could not hide from herself that it was an abominableexhibition, and she knew how scandalized he would be at their voluptuousmovements. She had no doubt that the devil had led her there, but shecould not take her eyes off the scene, and it gave her an idea; and sofor nearly a fortnight you might have seen the poor, unattractive womansitting, and attentively and curiously watching the swaying hips of theAlgerian women. She was learning. 

The very evening of her return to London, she rushed into her husband'sbedroom, disrobed herself in an instant, except for a thin gauzecovering, and for the first time in her life appeared before him in allthe ugliness of her semi-nudity. 

"Come, come, " the saintly man stammered out, "are you--are you mad, Anna! What demon has possessed you? Why inflict the disgrace of such aspectacle on me?"

But she did not listen to him, and did not reply, but suddenly she alsobegan to sway her hips about like an almah[10]. The reverend gentlemancould not believe his eyes, and in his stupefaction, he did not think ofcovering them with his hands or even of shutting them. He looked at her, stupefied and dumbfounded, a prey to the hypnotism of ugliness. Hewatched her as she came forward and retired, and went up and down, asshe skipped and wriggled, and threw herself into extraordinaryattitudes. For a long time he sat motionless and almost unable to speak. He only said in a low voice:

[Footnote 10: Egyptian dancing girl. --TRANSLATOR. ]

"Oh, Lord! To think that twelve times!... Twelve times!... A wholedozen!"

However, she fell into a chair, panting and worn out, and said toherself:

"Thank Heaven! William looks like he used to do formerly on the daysthat he honored me. Thank Heaven! There will be a thirteenth tribe, andthen a fresh series of tribes, for William is very methodical in allthat he does!"

But William merely took a blanket off the bed and threw it over her, saying in a voice of thunder:

"Your name is no longer Anna, Mrs. Greenfield; for the future you shallbe called Jezabel. I only regret that I have twelve times mingled myblood with your impure blood. " And then, seized by pity, he added: "Ifyou were only in a state of inebriety, of intoxication, I could excuseyou. "

"Well, yes, yes!" she exclaimed, repentantly, "yes, I am in thatstate ... Forgive me, William--forgive a poor drunken woman!"

"I will forgive you, Anna, " he replied, and he gave her a wash-handbasin, saying: "Cold water will do you good, and when your head isclear, remember the lesson which you must learn from this occurrence. "

"What lesson?" she asked, humbly. 

"That people ought never to depart from their usual habits. "

"But why, then, William, " she asked, timidly, "have you changed yourhabits?"

"Hold your tongue!" he cried--"hold your tongue, Jezabel! Have you notgot over your intoxication yet? For twelve years I certainly followedthe divine precept: _increase and multiply_, once a year. But sincethen, I have grown accustomed to something else, and I do not wish toalter my habits. "

And the Reverend William Greenfield, Vicar of St. Sampson's, Tottenham, the saintly man whose blood was inflamed by heating food and liquor, whose ears were like full-blown poppies and who had a nose like atomato, left his wife and, as had been his habit for four years, went tomake love to Polly, the servant. 

"Now, Polly, " he said, "you are a clever girl, and I mean, through you, to teach Mrs. Greenfield a lesson she will never forget. I will try andsee what I can do for you. "

And in order to this, he called her his little Jezabel, and said to her, with an unctuous smile:

"Call me Jeroboam! You don't understand why? Neither do I, but that doesnot matter. Take off all your things, Polly, and show yourself to Mrs. Greenfield. "

The servant did as she was bidden, and the result was that Mrs. Greenfield never again hinted to her husband the desirability of layingthe foundation of a thirteenth tribe. 

THE LOG

It was a small drawing-room, with thick hangings, and with a faint, judicious smell of flowers and scents about it. A large fire was burningin the grate, while one lamp, covered with a shade of old lace, on thecorner of the mantel-piece threw a soft light onto the two persons whowere talking. 

She, the mistress of the house, was an old lady with white hair, but oneof those adorable old ladies whose unwrinkled skin is as smooth as thefinest paper, and scented, impregnated with perfume as the delicateessences which she had used in her bath for so many years had penetratedthrough the epidermis. 

He was a very old friend, who had never married, a constant friend, acompanion in the journey of life, but nothing else. 

They had not spoken for about a minute, and they were both looking atthe fire, dreaming no matter of what, in one of those moments offriendly silence between people who have no need to be constantlytalking in order to be happy together, when suddenly a large log, astump covered with burning roots, fell out. It fell over the fire-dogsinto the drawing-room, and rolled onto the carpet, scattering greatsparks all round. The old lady sprang up with a little scream, as if shewas going to run away, while he kicked the log back onto the hearth andtrod out all the burning sparks with his boots. 

When the disaster was repaired, there was a strong smell of burning, andsitting down opposite to his friend, the man looked at her with a smile, and said, as he pointed to the log:

"That is the reason why I never married. "

She looked at him in astonishment, with the inquisitive gaze of womenwho wish to know everything, that eye which women have who are no longervery young, in which complicated, and often malicious curiosity isreflected, and she asked:

"How so?"

"Oh! that is a long story, " he replied; "a rather sad and unpleasantstory. "

"My old friends were often surprised at the coldness which suddenlysprang up between one of my best friends, whose Christian name wasJulien, and myself. They could not understand how two such intimate andinseparable friends as we had been could suddenly become almoststrangers to one another, and I will tell you the reason of it. 

"He and I used to live together at one time. We were never apart, andthe friendship that united us seemed so strong that nothing could breakit. 

"One evening when he came home, he told me that he was going to getmarried, and it gave me a shock as if he had robbed me or betrayed me. When a man's friend marries, it is all over between them. The jealousaffection of a woman, that suspicious, uneasy, and carnal affection, will not tolerate that sturdy and frank attachment, that attachment ofthe mind, of the heart, and mutual confidence which exists between twomen. 

"You see, however great the love may be that unites them, a man and awoman are always strangers in mind and intellect; they remainbelligerants, they belong to different races. There must always be aconqueror and a conquered, a master and a slave; now the one, now theother--they are never two equals. They press each other's hands, thosehands trembling with amorous passion; but they never press them with along, strong, loyal pressure, with that pressure which seems to openhearts and to lay them bare in a burst of sincere, strong, manlyaffection. Philosophers of old, instead of marrying and pro-creatingchildren who would abandon them as a consolation for their old age, sought for a good, reliable friend, and grew old with him in thatcommunion of thought which can only exist between men. 

"Well, my friend Julien married. His wife was pretty, charming, alittle, light, curly-haired, plump, bright woman, who seemed to worshiphim; and at first I went but rarely to their house, as I was afraid ofinterfering with their affection, and afraid of being in their way. Butsomehow they attracted me to their house; they were constantly invitingme, and seemed very fond of me. Consequently, by degrees I allowedmyself to be allured by the charm of their life. I often dined withthem, and frequently, when I returned home at night, I thought that Iwould do as he had done, and get married, as I now found my empty housevery dull. 

"They seemed very much in love with one another, and were never apart. 

"Well, one evening Julien wrote and asked me to go to dinner, and Inaturally went. 

"'My dear fellow, ' he said, 'I must go out directly afterwards onbusiness, and I shall not be back until eleven o'clock, but I shall beat eleven precisely, and I reckon you to keep Bertha company. '

"The young woman smiled. 

"'It was my idea, ' she said, 'to send for you. '

"I held out my hand to her. 

"'You are as nice as ever, ' I said, and I felt a long, friendly pressureof my fingers, but I paid no attention to it; so we sat down to dinner, and at eight o'clock Julien went out. 

"As soon as he had gone, a kind of strange embarrassment immediatelyseemed to arise between his wife and me. We had never been alonetogether yet, and in spite of our daily increasing intimacy, this_tête-à-tête_ placed us in a new position. At first I spoke vaguely ofthose indifferent matters with which one fills up an embarrassingsilence, but she did not reply, and remained opposite to me with herhead down in an undecided manner, as if she were thinking over somedifficult subject, and as I was at a loss for commonplace ideas, I heldmy tongue. It is surprising how hard it is at times to find anything tosay. 

"And then, again, I felt in the air, I felt in the unseen, somethingwhich is impossible for me to express, that mysterious premonition whichtells you beforehand of the secret intentions, be they good or evil, ofanother person with respect to yourself. 

"That painful silence lasted some time, and then Bertha said to me:

"'Will you kindly put a log on the fire, for it is going out. '

"So I opened the box where the wood was kept, which was placed justwhere yours is, took out the largest log, and put it on the top of theothers, which were three-parts burnt, and then silence reigned in theroom again. 

"In a few minutes the log was burning so brightly that it scorched ourfaces, and the young woman raised her eyes to me--eyes that had astrange look to me. 

"'It is too hot now, ' she said; 'let us go and sit on the sofa overthere. '

"So we went and sat on the sofa, and then she said suddenly, looking mefull in the face:

"'What should you do if a woman were to tell you that she was in lovewith you?'

"'Upon my word, ' I replied, very much at a loss for an answer, 'I cannotforesee such a case; but it would very much depend upon the woman. '

"She gave a hard, nervous, vibrating laugh; one of those false laughswhich seem as if they must break thin glasses, and then she added: 'Menare never either venturesome nor acute. ' And after a moment's silence, she continued: 'Have you ever been in love, Monsieur Paul?' I wasobliged to acknowledge that I certainly had been, and she asked me totell her all about it, whereupon I made up some story or other. Shelistened to me attentively with frequent sighs of approbation andcontempt, and then suddenly she said:

"'No, you understand nothing about the subject. It seems to me, thatreal love must unsettle the mind, upset the nerves and distract thehead; that it must--how shall I express it?--be dangerous, eventerrible, almost criminal and sacrilegious; that it must be a kind oftreason; I mean to say that it is almost bound to break laws, fraternalbonds, sacred obstacles; when love is tranquil, easy, lawful and withoutdangers, is it really love?'

"I did not know what answer to give her, and I made this philosophicalreflection to myself: 'Oh! female brain, here indeed you show yourself!'

"While speaking, she had assumed a demure, saintly air; and resting onthe cushions, she stretched herself out at full length, with her head onmy shoulder and her dress pulled up a little, so as to show her red silkstockings, which the fire-light made look still brighter. In a minute ortwo she continued:

"'I suppose I have frightened you?' I protested against such a notion, and she leant against my breast altogether, and without looking at meshe said: 'If I were to tell you that I love you, what would you do?'

"And before I could think of an answer, she had thrown her arms round myneck, had quickly drawn my head down and put her lips to mine. 

"Oh! My dear friend, I can tell you that I did not feel at all happy!What! deceive Julien? become the lover of this little silly, wrong-headed, cunning woman, who was no doubt terribly sensual, and forwhom her husband was already not sufficient! To betray him continually, to deceive him, to play at being in love merely because I was attractedby forbidden fruit, danger incurred and friendship betrayed! No, thatdid not suit me, but what was I to do? To imitate Joseph, would beacting a very stupid, and, moreover, difficult part, for this woman wasmaddening in her perfidy, inflamed by audacity, palpitating and excited. Let the man who has never felt on his lips, the warm kiss of a woman whois ready to give herself to him, throw the first stone at me ... 

"... Well, a minute more ... You understand what I mean? A minute moreand ... I should have been ... No, she would have been ... I beg yourpardon, he would have been!... When a loud noise made us both jump up. The log had fallen into the room, knocking over the fire-irons and thefender, and onto the carpet which it had scorched, and had rolled underan arm-chair, which it would certainly set alight. 

"I jumped up like a madman, and as I was replacing that log which hadsaved me, on the fire, the door opened hastily, and Julien came in. 

"'I have done, ' he said, in evident pleasure. 'The business was over twohours sooner than I expected!'

"Yes, my dear friend, without that log, I should have been caught in thevery act, and you know what the consequences would have been!

"You may be sure that I took good care never to be overtaken in asimilar situation again; never, never. Soon afterwards I saw that Julienwas giving me the 'cold shoulder, ' as they say. His wife was evidentlyundermining our friendship; by degrees he got rid of me, and we havealtogether ceased to meet. 

"I have not got married which ought not to surprise you, I think. "

MARGOT'S TAPERS

I

Margot Fresquyl had allowed herself to be tempted for the first time bythe delicious intoxication of the mortal sin of loving, on the eveningof Midsummer Day. 

While most of the young people were holding each others' hands anddancing in a circle round the burning logs, the girl had slyly taken thedeserted road which led to the wood, leaning on the arm of her partner, a tall, vigorous farm servant, whose Christian name was Tiennou, which, by the way, was the only name he had borne from his birth. For he wasentered on the register of births with this curt note: _Father andmother unknown_; he having been found on St. Stephen's Day under a shedon a farm, where some poor, despairing wretch had abandoned him, perhapseven without turning her head round to look at him. 

For months Tiennou had madly worshiped that fair, pretty girl, who wasnow trembling as he clasped her in his arms, under the sweet coolness ofthe leaves. He religiously rememberd how she had dazzled him--like someecstastic vision, the recollection of which always remains imprinted onthe eyes--the first time that he saw her in her father's mill, where hehad gone to ask for work. She stood out all rosy from the warmth of theday, amidst the impalpable clouds of flour, which diffused an indistinctwhiteness through the air. With her hair hanging about her in untidycurls, as if she had just awakened from a profound sleep, she stretchedherself lazily, with her bare arms clasped behind her head, and yawnedso as to show her white teeth, which glistened like those of a youngwolf, and her maiden nudity appeared beneath her unbuttoned bodice withinnocent immodesty. He told her that he thought her adorable, sostupidly, that she made fun of him and scourged him with her cruellaughter; and, from that day he spent his life in Margot's shadow. Hemight have been taken for one of those wild beasts ardent with desire, which ceaselessly utter maddened cries to the stars on nights when theconstellations bathe the dark coverts in warm light. Margot met himwherever she went, and seized with pity, and by degrees agitated by hissobs, by his dumb entreaties, by the burning looks which flashed fromhis large eyes, she had returned his love; she had dreamt restlesslythat during a whole night she had been in his vigorous arms whichpressed her like corn that is being crushed in the mill, that she wasobeying a man who had subdued her, and learning strange things which theother girls talked about in a low voice when they were drawing water atthe well. 

She had, however, been obliged to wait until Midsummer Day, for themiller watched over his heiress very carefully. 

The two lovers told each other all this as they were going along thedark road, and innocently giving utterance to words of happiness, whichrise to the lips like the forgotten refrain of a song. At times theywere silent, not knowing what more to say, and not daring to embraceeach other any more. The night was soft and warm, the warmth of ahalf-closed alcove in a bedroom, and which had the effect of a tumblerof new wine. 

The leaves were sleeping motionless and in supreme peace, and in thedistance they could hear the monotonous sound of the brooks as theyflowed over the stones. Amidst the dull noise of the insects, thenightingales were answering each other from tree to tree, and everythingseemed alive with hidden life, and the sky was bright with such a showerof falling stars, that they might have been taken for white formswandering among the dark trunks of the trees. 

"Why have we come?" Margot asked, in a panting voice. "Do you not wantme any more, Tiennou?"

"Alas! I dare not, " he replied. "Listen: you know that I was picked upon the high road, that I have nothing in the world except my two arms, and that Miller Fresquyl will never let his daughter marry a poor devillike me. "

She interrupted him with a painful gesture, and putting her lips to his, she said:

"What does that matter? I love you, and I want you ... Take me ... "

And it was thus, on St. John's night, Margot Fresquyl for the first timeyielded to the mortal sin of love. 

II

Did the miller guess his daughter's secret, when he heard her singingmerrily from dawn till dusk, and saw her sitting dreaming at her windowinstead of sewing as she was in the habit of doing?

Did he see it when she threw ardent kisses from the tips of her fingersto her lover at a distance?

However that might have been, he shut poor Margot in the mill as if ithad been a prison. No more love or pleasure, no more meetings at nightat the verge of the wood. When she chatted with the passers-by, when shetried furtively to open the gate of the enclosure and to make herescape, her father beat her as if she had been some disobedient animal, until she fell on her knees on the floor with clasped hands, scarcelyable to move and her whole body covered with purple bruises. 

She pretended to obey him, but she revolted in her whole being, and thestring of bitter insults which he heaped upon her rang in her head. Withclenched hands, and a gesture of terrible hatred, she cursed him forstanding in the way of her love, and at night, she rolled about on herbed, bit the sheets, moaned, stretched herself out for imaginaryembraces, maddened by the sensual heat with which her body was stillpalpitating. She called out Tiennou's name aloud, she broke the peacefulstillness of the sleeping house with her heartrending sobs, and herdejected voice drowned the monotonous sound of the water that wasdripping under the arch of the mill, between the immovable paddles ofthe wheel. 

III

Then there came that terrible week in October when the unfortunate youngfellows who had drawn bad numbers had to join their regiments. [11]Tiennou was one of them, and Margot was in despair to think that sheshould not see him for five interminable years, that they could noteven, at that hour of sad farewells, be alone and exchange thoseconsoling words which afterwards alleviate the pain of absence. 

[Footnote 11: Written before universal service was obligatory, and whensoldiers were selected by conscription, a certain amount of those whodrew high numbers, being exempt from service. --TRANSLATOR. ]

Tiennou prowled about the house, like a starving beggar, and onemorning, while the miller was mending the wheel, he managed to seeMargot. 

"I will wait for you in the old place to-night, " he whispered, interrible grief. "I know it is the last time ... I shall throw myselfinto some deep hole in the river if you do not come! ... "

"I will be there, Tiennou, " she replied, in a bewildered manner. "Iswear I will be there ... Even if I have to do something terrible toenable me to come!"

 * * * * *

The village was burning in the dark night, and the flames, fanned by thewind, rose up like sinister torches. The thatched roofs, the ricks ofcorn, the haystacks, and the barns fell in, and crackled like rockets, while the sky looked as if they were illuminated by an _auroraborealis_. Fresquyl's mill was smoking, and its calcined ruins werereflected on the deep water. The sheep and cows were running about thefields in terror, the dogs were howling, and the women were sitting onthe broken furniture, and were crying and wringing their hands; whileduring all this time Margot was abandoning herself to her lover's ardentcaresses, and with her arms round his neck, she said to him, tenderly:

"You see that I have kept my promise ... I set fire to the mill so thatI might be able to get out. So much the worse if all have suffered. ButI do not care as long as you are happy in having me, and love me!"

And pointing to the fire which was still burning fiercely in thedistance, she added with a burst of savage laughter:

"Tiennou, we shall not have such beautiful tapers at out wedding Masswhen you come back from your regiment!"

And thus it was that for the second time Margot Fresquyl yielded to themortal sin of love. 

CAUGHT IN THE VERY ACT

"It is certain, " Sulpice de Laurièr said, "that I had absolutelyforgotten the date on which I was to allow myself to be taken in thevery act, with a mistress for the occasion. As neither my wife nor I hadany serious nor plausible reason for a divorce, not even the slightestincompatibility of temper, and as there is always a risk of notsoftening the heart of even the most indulgent judge when he is toldthat the parties have agreed to drag their load separately, each forthemselves, that they are too frisky, too fond of pleasure and ofwandering about from place to place to continue the conjugal experiment, we between us got up the ingenious stage arrangement of, 'a seriouswrong... '

"This was funnier than all the rest, and under any other circumstancesit would have been repugnant to me to mix up our servants in the affairlike so many others do, or to distress that pretty little, fair anddelicate Parisian woman, even though it were only in appearance and topass as a common _Sganarelle_ with the manners of a carter, in the eyesof some scoundrel of a footman, or of some lady's maid. And so whenMaître Le Chevrier, that kind lawyer who certainly knows more femalesecrets than the most fashionable confessor, gave a startled exclamationon seeing me still in my dressing-gown, and slowly smoking a cigar likean idler who has no engagements down on his tablets, and who is quietlywaiting for the usual time for dressing and going to dine at his club, he exclaimed:

"'Have you forgotten that this is the day, at the _Hôtel de Bade_, between five and six o'clock? In an hour, Madame de Laurière will be atthe office of the Police Commissary in the Rue de Provence, with heruncle and Maître Cantenac ... '

"An hour; I only had an hour, sixty short minutes to dress in, to take aroom, find a woman and persuade her to go with me immediately, and toexcite her feelings, so that this extravagant adventure might not appeartoo equivocal to the Commissary of Police. One hour in which to carryout such a program was enough to make a man lose his head. And therewere no possible means of putting off that obligatory entertainment, tolet Madame Le Laurière know in time, and to gain a few minutes more. 

"'Have you found a woman, at any rate?' Maître de Chevrier continuedanxiously. 

"'No, my dear sir!'

"I immediately began to think of the whole string of my dear femalefriends. Should I choose Liline Ablette, who could refuse me nothing, Blanch Rebus, who was the best comrade a man ever had, or Lalie Spring, that luxurious creature, who was constantly in search of something new?Neither one nor the other of them, for it was ninety-nine chances to onethat all these confounded girls were in the _Bois de Boulogne_, or attheir dressmakers!"

"'Bah! Just pick up the first girl you meet on the pavement. '

"And before the hour was up, I was bolting the door of a room, whichlooked out onto the boulevard. 

"The woman whom I had picked up, as she was walking past the _cafés_, from the _Vaudeville_ to _Tortoni's_, was twenty at the most. She had animpudent, snub nose, as if it had been turned up in fun by a fillip, large eyes with-deep rims round them; her lips were too red, and she hadthe slow, indolent walk of a girl who goes in for debauchery too freelyand who began too soon, but she was pretty, and her linen was very cleanand neat. And she was evidently used to chance love-making, and had away of undressing herself in two or three rapid movements, of throwingher toggery to the right and left, until she was extremely lightly clad, and of throwing herself onto the bed which astonished me as a sight thatwas well worth seeing. 

"She did not talk much, though she began by saying: 'Pay up at once, oldman ... You don't look like a fellow who would bilk a girl, but it putsme into better trim when I have been paid. '

"I gave her two napoleons, and she eyed me with gratitude and respect atthe same time, but also with that uneasy look of a girl who asksherself: 'What does this tool expect for it?'

"The whole affair began to amuse me, and I must confess that I wasrather taken with her, for she had a beautiful figure and complexion, and I was hoping that the Commissary would not come directly, when therewas a loud rapping at the door. 

"She sat up with a start, and grew so pale that one would have said shewas about to faint. 

"'What a set of pigs, to come and interrupt people like this!' shemuttered between her teeth; while I affected the most complete calm. 

"'Somebody who has made a mistake in the room, my dear, ' I said. 

"But this noise increased, and suddenly I heard a man's voice sayingclearly and authoritatively:

"'Open the door, in the name of the law!'

"On hearing that, one would have thought that she had received a shockfrom an electric battery, by the nimble manner in which she jumped outof bed; and quickly putting on her stays and her dress anyhow, sheendeavored to discover a way out in every corner of the room, like awild beast, trying to escape from its cage. I thought that she was goingto throw herself out of the window, so I seized hold of her to preventher. 

"The unfortunate creature acted like a madwoman, and when she felt myarm round her waist, she cried in a hoarse voice:

"'I see it ... You have sold me ... You thought that I should exposemyself.... Oh! you filthy brutes--you filthy brutes!'

"And suddenly, passing from abuse to entreaties, pale and withchattering teeth, she threw herself at my feet, and said, in a lowvoice:

"'Listen to me, my dear: you don't look a bad sort of fellow, and youwould not like them to lock me up. I have a kid and the old woman tokeep. Hide me behind the bed, do, and please don't give me up.... Iwill make it up to you, and you shall have no cause for grumbling.... '

"At that moment however, the lock which they had unscrewed fell onto thefloor with a metallic sound, and Madame de Laurière and the PoliceCommissary, wearing his tricolored scarf, appeared in the door, whilebehind them the heads of the uncle and of the lawyer could be seenindistinctly in the background. 

"The girl had uttered a cry of terror and going up to the Commissary shesaid, panting:

"'I swear to you that I am not guilty, that I was not ... I will tellyou everything if you will promise me not to tell them that I spilt, forthey would pay me out.... '

"The Commissary, who was surprised, but who guessed that there wassomething which was not quite clear behind all this, forgot to draw uphis report, and so the lawyer went up to him and said:

"'Well, monsieur, what are we waiting for?'

"But he paid no attention to anything but the woman, and looking at hersharply and suspiciously through his gold-rimmed spectacles, he said toher in a hard voice:

"'Your names and surnames?'

"'Juliette Randal, or as I am generally called, Jujutte Pipehead. '

"'So you will swear you were not--'

"She interrupted him eagerly:

"'I swear it, monsieur, and I know that my little man had nothing to dowith it either. He was only keeping a look-out while the others collaredthe swag. ... I will swear that I can account for every moment of mytime that night. Roquin was drunk, and told me everything.... They gotfive thousand francs from Daddy Zacharias, and of course Roquin had hisshare, but he did not work with his partners. It was Minon Ménilmuche, whom they call _Drink-without-Thirst_, who held the gardener's hands, and who bled him with a blow from his knife. '

"The Commissary let her run on, and when she had finished, he questionedme, as if I had belonged to Jujutte's band. 

"'Your name, Christian name, and profession?'

"'Marquis Sulpice de Laurièr, living on my own private income, at 24, Rue de Galilee. '

"'De Laurièr? Oh, very well.... Excuse me, monsieur, but at Madame deLaurière's request, I declare formally before these gentlemen, who willbe able to give evidence, that the girl Juliette Randal, whom they call_Jujutte Tête-de-Pipe_, is your mistress. You are at liberty to go, Monsieur le Marquis, and you, girl Randal answer my questions. '

"Thus, by the most extraordinary chance, our divorce suit created asensation which I had certainly never foreseen. I was obliged to appearin the Assize Court as a witness in the celebrated case of thoseburglars, when three of them were condemned to death, and to undergo thequestioning of the idiotic Presiding Judge, who tried by all means inhis power to make me acknowledge that I was Jujutte Tête-de-Pipe'sregular lover; and in consequence, ever since then I have passed as anardent seeker after novel sensations, and a man who wallows in thelowest depths of the Parisian dunghill. 

"I cannot say that this unjust reputation has brought me any pleasantlove affairs. Women are so perverse, so absurd, and so curious!"

THE CONFESSION

Monsieur de Champdelin had no reason to complain of his lot as a marriedman; nor could he accuse destiny of having played him in a bad turn, asit does so many others, for it would have been difficult to find a moredesirable, merrier, prettier little woman, or one who was easier toamuse and to guide than his wife. To see the large, limpid eyes whichilluminated her fair, girlish face, one would think that her mother musthave spent whole nights before her birth, in looking dreamily at thestars, and so had become, as it were, impregnated with their magicbrightness. And one did not know which to prefer--her bright, silkyhair, or her slightly _restroussé_ nose, with its vibrating nostrils, her red lips, which looked as alluring as a ripe peach, her beautifulshoulders, her delicate ears, which resembled mother-of-pearl, or herslim waist and rounded figure, which would have delighted and tempted asculptor. 

And then she was always merry, overflowing with youth and life, neverdissatisfied, only wishing to enjoy herself, to laugh, to love and beloved, and putting all the house into a tumult, as if it had been agreat cage full of birds. In spite of all this, however, that worn outfool, Champdelin, had never cared much about her, but had left thatcharming garden lying waste, and almost immediately after theirhoneymoon, he had resumed is usual bachelor habits, and had begun tolead the same fast life that he had done of old. 

It was stronger than he, for his was one of those libertine natureswhich are constant targets for love, and which never resign themselvesto domestic peace and happiness. The last woman who came across him, ina love adventure, was always the one whom he loved best, and the merecontact with a petticoat inflamed him, and made him commit the mostimprudent actions. 

As he was not hard to please, he fished, as it were, in troubled waters, went after the ugly ones and the pretty ones alike, was bold even toimpudence, was not to be kept off by mistakes, nor anger, nor modesty, nor threats, though he sometimes fell into a trap and got a thrashingfrom some relative or jealous lover; he withstood all attempts to gethush-money out of him, and became only all the more enamored of vice andmore ardent in his lures and pursuit of love affairs on that account. 

But the work-girls and the shop-girls and all the tradesmen's wives inSaint Martéjoux knew him, and made him pay for their whims and theircoquetry, and had to put up with his love-making. Many of them smiled orblushed when they saw him under the tall plane-trees in the publicgarden, or met him in the unfrequented, narrow streets near theCathedral, with his thin, sensual face, whose looks had somethingsatyr-like about them, and some of them used to laugh at him and makefun of him, though they ran away when he went up to them. And when somefriend or other, who was sorry that he could forget himself so far, usedto say to him, when he was at a loss for any other argument: "And yourwife, Champdelin? Are you not afraid that she will have her revenge andpay you out in your own coin?" his only reply was a contemptuous andincredulous shrug of the shoulders. 

She deceive him, indeed; she, who was as devout, as virtuous, and asignorant of forbidden things as a nun, who cared no more for love thanshe did for an old slipper! She, who did not even venture on any veiledallusions, who was always laughing, who took life as it came, whoperformed her religious duties with edifying assiduity, she to pay himback, so as to make him look ridiculous, and to gad about at night?Never! Anyone who could think such a thing must have lost his senses. 

However, one summer day, when the roofs all seemed red-hot, and thewhole town appeared dead, Monsieur de Champdelin had followed twomilliner's girls, with bandboxes in their hands from street to street, whispering nonsense to them, and promising beforehand to give themanything they asked him for, and had gone after them as far as theCathedral. In their fright, they took refuge there, but he followed themin, and, emboldened by the solitude of the nave, and by the perfectsilence in the building, he became more enterprising and bolder. Theydid not know how to defend themselves, or to escape from him, and weretrembling at his daring attempts, and at his kisses, when he saw aconfessional whose doors were open, in one of the side chapels. "Weshould be much more comfortable in there, my little dears, " he said, going into it, as if to get such an unexpected nest ready for them. 

But they were quicker than he, and throwing themselves against thegrated door, they pushed it to before he could turn round, and lockedhim in. At first he thought it was only a joke, and it amused him; butwhen they began to laugh heartily and putting their tongues at him, asif he had been a monkey in a cage, and overwhelmed him with insults, hefirst of all grew angry, and then humble, offering to pay well for hisransom, and he implored them to let him out, and tried to escape like amouse does out of a trap. They, however, did not appear to hear him, butnaively bowed to him ceremoniously, wished him good night, and ran outas fast as they could. 

Champdelin was in despair; he did not know what to do, and cursed hisbad luck. What would be the end of it? Who would deliver him from thatspecies of prison, and was he going to remain there all the afternoonand night, like a portmanteau that had been forgotten at the lostluggage office? He could not manage to force the lock, and did notventure to knock hard against the sides of the confessional, for fear ofattracting the attention of some beadle or sacristan. Oh! those wretchedgirls, and how people would make fun of him and write verses about him, and point their fingers at him, if the joke were discovered and gotnoised abroad!

By and by, he heard the faint sound of prayers in the distance andthrough the green serge curtain that concealed him Monsieur Champdelinheard the rattle of the beads on the chaplets, as the women repeatedtheir _Ave Maria's_, and the rustle of dresses and the noise offootsteps on the pavement. 

Suddenly, he felt a tickling in his throat that nearly choked him, andhe could not altogether prevent himself from coughing, and when at lastit passed off, the unfortunate man was horrified at hearing some onecome into the chapel and up to the confessional. Whoever it was, kneltdown, and gave a discreet knock at the grating which separated thepriest from his penitents, so he quickly put on the surplice and stolewhich were hanging on a nail, and covering his face with hishandkerchief, and sitting back in the shade, he opened the grating. 

It was a woman, who was already saying her prayers and he gave theresponses as well as he could, from his boyish recollections, and wassomewhat agitated by the delicious scent that emanated from herhalf-raised veil and from her bodice; but at her first words he startedso, that he almost fainted. He had recognized his wife's voice, and itfelt to him as if his seat were studded with sharp nails, that the sidesof the confessional were closing in on him, and as if the air weregrowing rarified. 

He now collected himself, however, and regaining his self-possession, helistened to what she had to say with increasing curiosity, and with someuncertain, and necessary interruptions. The young woman sighed, wasevidently keeping back something, spoke about her unhappiness, hermelancholy life, her husband's neglect, the temptations by which she wassurrounded, and which she found it so difficult to resist; herconscience seemed to be burdened by an intolerable weight, though shehesitated to accuse herself directly. And in a low voice, with unctuousand coaxing tones, and mastering himself, Champdelin said:

"Courage, my child; tell me everything; the divine mercy is infinite;tell me all, without hesitation. "

Then, all at once, she told him everything that was troubling her; howpassion and desire had thrown her into the arms of one of her husband'sbest friends, the exquisite happiness that they felt when they met everyday, his delightful tenderness, which she could no longer resist, thesin which was her joy, her only object, her consolation, her dream. Shegrew excited, sobbed, seemed enervated and worn out, as if she werestill burning from her lover's kisses, hardly seemed to know what shewas saying, and begged for temporary absolution from her sins; but thenChampdelin, in his exasperation, and unable to restrain himself anylonger, interrupted her in a furious voice:

"Oh! no! Oh! no; this is not at all funny ... Keep such sort of thingsto yourself, my dear!"

 * * * * *

Poor little Madame de Champdelin nearly went out of her mind with frightand astonishment, and they are now waiting for the decree which willbreak their chains and let them part. 

WAS IT A DREAM?

"I had loved her madly! Why does one love? Why does one love? How queerit is to see only one being in the world, to have only one thought inone's mind, only one desire in the heart, and only one name on the lips;a name which comes up continually, which rises like the water in aspring, from the depths of the soul, which rises to the lips, and whichone repeats over and over again which one whispers ceaselessly, everywhere, like a prayer. 

"I am going to tell you our story, for love only has one, which isalways the same. I met her and loved her; that is all. And for a wholeyear I have lived on her tenderness, on her caresses, in her arms, inher dresses, on her words, so completely wrapped up, bound, imprisonedin everything which came from her, that I no longer knew whether it wasday or night, if I was dead or alive, on this old earth of ours, orelsewhere. 

"And then she died. How? I do not know. I no longer know; but oneevening she came home wet, for it was raining heavily, and the next dayshe coughed, and she coughed for about a week, and took to her bed. Whathappened I do not remember now, but doctors came, wrote and went away. Medicines were brought, and some women made her drink them. Her handswere hot, her forehead was burning, and her eyes bright and sad. When Ispoke to her, she answered me, but I do not remember what we said. Ihave forgotten everything, everything, everything! She died, and I verywell remember her slight, feeble sigh. The nurse said: 'Ah! and Iunderstood, I understood!'

"I knew nothing more, nothing. I saw a priest, who said: 'Yourmistress?' and it seemed to me as if he were insulting her. As she wasdead, nobody had the right to know that any longer, and I turned himout. Another came who was very kind and tender, and I shed tears when hespoke to me about her. 

"They consulted me about the funeral, but I do not remember anythingthat they said, though I recollected the coffin, and the sound of thehammer when they nailed her down in it. Oh! God, God!

"She was buried! Buried! She! In that hole! Some people came--femalefriends. I made my escape, and ran away; I ran, and then I walkedthrough the streets, and went home, and the next day I started on ajourney. "

 * * * * *

"Yesterday I returned to Paris, and when I saw my room again--our room, our bed, our furniture, everything that remains of the life of a humanbeing after death, I was seized by such a violent attack of fresh grief, that I was very near opening the window and throwing myself out into thestreet. As I could not remain any longer among these things, betweenthese walls which had enclosed and sheltered her, and which retained athousand atoms of her, of her skin and of her breath in theirimperceptible crevices, I took up my hat to make my escape, and just asI reached the door, I passed the large glass in the hall, which she hadput there so that she might be able to look at herself every day fromhead to foot as she went out, to see if her toilet looked well, and wascorrect and pretty, from her little boots to her bonnet. 

"And I stopped short in front of that looking-glass in which she had sooften been reflected. So often, so often, that it also must haveretained her reflection. I was standing there, trembling, with my eyesfixed on the glass--on that flat, profound, empty glass--which hadcontained her entirely, and had possessed her as much as I had, as mypassionate looks had. I felt as if I loved that glass. I touched it, itwas cold. Oh! the recollection! sorrowful mirror, burning mirror, horrible mirror, which makes us suffer such torments! Happy are the menwhose hearts forget everything that it has contained, everything thathas passed before it, everything that has looked at itself in it, thathas been reflected in its affection, in its love! How I suffer!

"I went on without knowing it, without wishing it; I went towards thecemetery. I found her simple grave, a white marble cross, with these fewwords:

"'_She loved, was loved, and died. _'

"She is there, below, decayed! How horrible! I sobbed with my foreheadon the ground, and I stopped there for a long time, a long time. Then Isaw that it was getting dark, and a strange, a mad wish, the wish of adespairing lover seized me. I wished to pass the night, the last nightin weeping on her grave. But I should be seen and driven out. How was Ito manage? I was cunning, and got up, and began to roam about in thatcity of the dead. I walked and walked. How small this city is, incomparison with the other, the city in which we live: And yet, how muchmore numerous the dead are than the living. We want high houses, widestreets, and much room for the four generations who see the daylight atthe same time, drink water from the spring, and wine from the vines, andeat the bread from the plains. 

"And for all the generations of the dead, for all that ladder ofhumanity that has descended down to us, there is scarcely anythingafield, scarcely anything! The earth takes them back, oblivion effacesthem. Adieu!

"At the end of the abandoned cemetery, I suddenly perceived that the onewhere those who have been dead a long time finish mingling with thesoil, where the crosses themselves decay, where the last comers will beput to-morrow. It is full of untended roses, of strong and dark cypresstrees, a sad and beautiful garden, nourished on human flesh. 

"I was alone, perfectly alone, and so I crouched in a green tree, andhid myself there completely among the thick and somber branches, and Iwaited, clinging to the stem, like a shipwrecked man does to a plank. 

"When it was quite dark, I left my refuge and began to walk softly, slowly, inaudibly, through that ground full of dead people, and Iwandered about for a long time, but could not find her again. I went onwith extended arms, knocking against the tombs with my hands, my feet, my knees, my chest, even with my head, without being able to find her. Itouched and felt about like a blind man groping his way, I felt thestones, the crosses, the iron railings, the metal wreaths, and thewreaths of faded flowers! I read the names with my fingers, by passingthem over the letters. What a night! What a night! I could not find heragain!

"There was no moon. What a night! I am frightened, horribly frightenedin these narrow paths, between two rows of graves. Graves! graves!graves! nothing but graves! On my right, on my left, in front of me, around me, everywhere there were graves! I sat down on one of them, forI could not walk any longer, my knees were so weak. I could hear myheart beat! And I could hear something else as well. What? A confused, nameless noise. Was the noise in my head in the impenetrable night, orbeneath the mysterious earth, the earth sown with human corpses? Ilooked all around me, but I cannot say how long I remained there; I wasparalyzed with terror, drunk with fright, ready to shout out, ready todie. 

"Suddenly, it seemed to me as if the slab of marble on which I wassitting, was moving. Certainly, it was moving, as if it were beingraised. With a bound, I sprang on to the neighboring tomb, and I saw, yes, I distinctly saw the stone which I had just quitted, rise upright, and the dead person appeared, a naked skeleton, which was pushing thestone back with its bent back. I saw it quite clearly, although thenight was so dark. On the cross I could read:

"'_Here lies Jacques Olivant, who died at the age of fifty-one. He lovedhis family, was kind and honorable, and died in the grace of the Lord. _'

"The dead man also read what was inscribed on his tombstone; then hepicked up a stone off the path, a little, pointed stone, and began toscrape the letters carefully. He slowly effaced them altogether, andwith the hollows of his eyes he looked at the places where they had beenengraved, and, with the tip of the bone, that had been his forefinger, he wrote in luminous letters, like those lines which one traces on wallswith the tip of a lucifer match:

"'_Here reposes Jacques Olivant, who died at the age of fifty-one. Hehastened his father's death by his unkindness, as he wished to inherithis fortune, he tortured his wife, tormented his children, deceived hisneighbors, robbed everyone he could, and died wretched. _'

"When he had finished writing, the dead man stood motionless, looking athis work, and on turning round I saw that all the graves were open, thatall the dead bodies had emerged from them, and that all had effaced thelies inscribed on the gravestones by their relations, and hadsubstituted the truth instead. And I saw that all had been tormentors oftheir neighbors--malicious, dishonest, hypocrites, liars, rogues, calumniators, envious; that they had stolen, deceived, performed everydisgraceful, every abominable action, these good fathers, these faithfulwives, these devoted sons, these chaste daughters, these honesttradesmen, these men and women who were called irreproachable, and theywere called irreproachable, and they were all writing at the same time, on the threshold of their eternal abode, the truth, the terrible and theholy truth which everybody is ignorant of, or pretends to be ignorantof, while the others are alive. 

"I thought that _she_ also must have written something on her tombstone, and now, running without any fear among the half-open coffins, among thecorpses and skeletons, I went towards her, sure that I should find herimmediately. I recognized her at once, without seeing her face, whichwas covered by the winding-sheet, and on the marble cross, where shortlybefore I had read: '_She loved, was loved, and died_, ' I now saw:'_Having gone out one day, in order to deceive her lover, she caughtcold in the rain and died. _'"

 * * * * *

"It appears that they found me at daybreak, lying on the graveunconscious. "

THE LAST STEP

Monsier de Saint-Juéry would not have deceived his old mistress foranything in the world: perhaps from an instinctive fear that he hadheard of adventures that turn out badly, make a noise, and bring abouthateful family quarrels, crises from which one emerges enervated andexasperated with destiny, and, as it were, with the weight of a bulleton one's feet, and also from his requirement for a calm, sheep-likeexistence, whose monotony was never disturbed by any shock, and perhapsfrom the remains of the love which had so entirely made him, during thefirst years of their connection, the slave of the proud, dominatingbeauty, and of the enthralling charm of that woman. 

He kept out of the way of temptation almost timidly, and was faithful toher, and as submissive as a spaniel. He paid her every attention, didnot appear to notice that the outlines of her figure, which had formerlybeen so harmonious and supple, were getting too full and puffy, that herface, which used to remind him of a blush rose, was getting wrinkled, and that her eyes were getting dull. He admired her in spite ofeverything, almost blindly, and clothed her with imaginary charms, withan autumnal beauty, with the majestic and serene softness of an Octobertwilight, and with the last blossoms which unfold by the side of thewalks, strewn with dead leaves. 

But although their connection had lasted for many years, though theywere as closely bound to each other as if they had been married, andalthough Charlotte Guindal pestered him with entreaties, and upset himwith continual quarrels on the subject, and, in spite of the fact thathe believed her to be absolutely faithful to him, and worthy of his mostperfect confidence and love, yet Monsieur de Saint-Juéry had never beenable to make up his mind to give her his name, and to put their falseposition on a legal footing. 

He really suffered from this, but remained firm and defended hisposition, quibbled, sought for subterfuges, replied by the eternal andvague: "What would be the good of it, " which nearly sent Charlotte mad, made her furious and caused her to say angry and ill-tempered things. But he remained passive and listless, with his back bent like a restivehorse under the whip. 

He asked her whether it was really necessary to their happiness, as theyhad no children? Did not everybody think that they were married? Was notshe everywhere called Madame de Saint-Juéry, and had their servants anydoubt that they were in the service of respectable, married people? Wasnot the name which had been transmitted to a man from father to son, intact, honored, and often with a halo of glory round it, a sacred trustwhich no one had a right to touch? What would she gain if she bore itlegitimately? Did she for a moment suppose that she would rise higher inpeople's estimation, and be more admitted into society, or that peoplewould forget that she had been his regular mistress before becoming hiswife? Did not everybody know that formerly, before he rescued her fromthat Bohemian life in which she had been waiting for her chance in vain, and was losing her good looks, Charlotte Guindal frequented all thepublic balls, and showed her legs liberally at the _Moulin-Rouge_[12]. 

[Footnote 12: A café chantant, and casino. ]

Charlotte knew his crabbed, though also kindly character, which was atthe same time logical and obstinate, too well to hope that she wouldever be able to overcome his opposition and scruples, except by someclever woman's trick, some well-acted scene in a comedy; so she appearedto be satisfied with his reasons, and to renounce her bauble, andoutwardly she showed an equable and conciliatory temper, and no longerworried Monsieur de Saint-Juéry with her recriminations, and thus thetime went by, in calm monotony, without fruitless battles or fierceassaults. 

Charlotte Guindal's medical man was Doctor Rabatel, one of those clevermen who appear to know everything, but whom a country bone-setter wouldreduce to a "why?" by a few questions; one of those men who wish toimpress everybody with their apparent value, and who make use of theirmedical knowledge as if it were some productive commercial house, whichcarried on a suspicious business; who can scent out those persons whomthey can manage as they please, as if they were a piece of soft wax, whokeep them in a continual state of terror, by keeping the idea of deathconstantly before their eyes. 

They soon manage to obtain the mastery over such persons, scrutinizetheir consciences as well as the cleverest priest could do, make sure ofbeing well paid for their complicity as soon as they have obtained afooting anywhere, and drain their patients of their secrets, in order touse them as a weapon for extorting money on occasions. He felt sureimmediately that this middle-aged lady wanted something of him, as bysome extraordinary perversion of taste, he was rather fond of theremains of a good-looking woman, if they were well got up, and offeredto him; of that high flavor which arises from soft lips, which had beenmade tender through years of love, from gray hair powdered with gold, from a body engaged in its last struggle, and which dreams of one morevictory before abdicating power altogether, he did not hesitate tobecome his new patient's lover. 

When winter came, however, a thorough change took place in Charlotte'shealth, that had hitherto been so good. She had no strength left, shefelt ill after the slightest exertion, complained of internal pains, andspent whole days lying on the couch, with set eyes and without utteringa word, so that everybody thought that she was dying of one of thosemysterious maladies which cannot be coped with, but which, by degrees, undermines the whole system. It was sad to see her rapidly sinking, lying motionless on her pillows, while a mist seemed to have come overher eyes, and her hands lay helplessly on the bed and her mouth seemedsealed by some invisible finger. Monsieur de Saint-Juéry was in despair;he cried like a child, and he suffered as if somebody had plunged aknife into him, when the doctor said to him in his unctuous voice:

"I know that you are a brave man, my dear sir, and I may venture to tellyou the whole truth.... Madame de Saint-Juéry is doomed, irrevocablydoomed.... Nothing but a miracle can save her, and alas! there are nomiracles in these days. The end is only a question of a few hours, andmay come quite suddenly.... "

Monsieur de Saint-Juéry had thrown himself into a chair, and was sobbingbitterly, covering his face with his hands. 

"My poor dear, my poor darling, " he said, through his tears. 

"Pray compose yourself, and be brave, " the doctor continued, sittingdown by his side, "for I have to say something serious to you, and toconvey to you our poor patient's last wishes.... A few minutes ago, shetold me the secret of your double life, and of your connection withher.... And now, in view of death, which she feels approaching sorapidly, for she is under no delusion, the unhappy woman wishes to dieat peace with heaven, with the consolation of having regulated herequivocal position, and of having become your wife. "

Monsieur de Saint-Juéry sat upright, with a bewildered look, while hemoved his hands nervously; in his grief he was incapable of manifestingany will of his own, or of opposing this unexpected attack. 

"Oh! anything that Charlotte wishes, doctor; anything, and I will myselfgo and tell her so, on my knees!"

 * * * * *

The wedding took place discreetly, with something funereal about it, inthe darkened room, where the words which were spoken had a strangesound, almost of anguish. Charlotte, who was lying in bed, with her eyesdilated through happiness, had put both trembling hands into those ofMonsieur de Saint-Juéry, and she seemed to expire with the word: "Yes"on her lips. The doctor looked at the moving scene, grave and impassive, with his chin buried in his white cravat, and his two arms resting onthe mantel-piece, while his eyes twinkled behind his glasses.... 

The next week, Madame de Saint-Juéry began to get better, and thatwonderful recovery about which Monsieur de Saint-Juéry tells everybodywith effusive gratitude, who will listen to him, has so increased DoctorRabatel's reputation, that at the next election he will be made a memberof the Academy of Medicine. 

THE WILL

I knew that tall young fellow, René de Bourneval. He was an agreeableman, though of a rather melancholy turn of mind, who seemed prejudicedagainst everything, very skeptical, and able to tear worldly hypocrisiesto pieces. He often used to say:

"There are no honorable men, or at any rate, they only appear so whencompared to low people. "

He had two brothers, whom he never saw, the Messieurs de Courcils, and Ithought they were by another father, on account of the difference in thename. I had frequently heard that something strange had happened in thefamily, but I did not know the details. 

As I took a great liking to him, we soon became intimate, and oneevening, when I had been dining with him alone, I asked him by chance:"Are you by your mother's first or second marriage?" He grew ratherpale, and then flushed, and did not speak for a few moments; he wasvisibly embarrassed. Then he smiled in a melancholy and gentle manner, which was peculiar to him, and said:

"My dear friend, if it will not weary you, I can give you some verystrange particulars about my life. I know that you are a sensible man, so I do not fear that our friendship will suffer by my revelations, andshould it suffer, I should not care about having you for my friend anylonger. 

"My mother, Madame de Courcils, was a poor little timid woman, whom herhusband had married for the sake of her fortune, and her whole life wasone of martyrdom. Of a loving, delicate mind, she was constantly beingill-treated by the man who ought to have been my father, one of thosebores called country gentleman. A month after their marriage he wasliving with a servant, and besides that, the wives and daughters of histenants were his mistresses, which did not prevent him from having threechildren by his wife, or three, if you count me in. My mother saidnothing, and lived in that noisy house like a little mouse. Set aside, disparaged, nervous, she looked at people with her bright, uneasy, restless eyes, the eyes of some terrified creature which can never shakeoff its fear. And yet she was pretty, very pretty and fair, agray-blonde, as if her hair had lost its color through her constantfears. 

"Among Monsieur de Courcil's friends who constantly came to the_château_, there was an ex-cavalry officer, a widower, a man who wasfeared, who was at the same time tender and violent, capable of the mostenergetic resolutions, Monsieur de Bourneval, whose name I bear. He wasa tall, thin man, with a heavy black moustache, and I am very like him. He was a man who had read a great deal, and whose ideas were not likethose of most of his class. His great-grandmother had been a friend ofJ. J. Rousseau's, and one might have said that he had inherited somethingof this ancestral connection. He knew the _Contrat Social_, and the_Nouvelle Héloîse_ by heart, and all those philosophical books whichlong beforehand prepared the overthrow of our old usages, prejudices, superannuated laws and imbecile morality. 

"It seems that he loved my mother, and she loved him, but their intriguewas carried on so secretly, that no one guessed it. The poor, neglected, unhappy woman, must have clung to him in a despairing manner, and in herintimacy with him must have imbibed all his ways of thinking, theoriesof free thought, audacious ideas of independent love; but as she was sotimid that she never ventured to speak aloud, it was all driven back, condensed and expressed in her heart, which never opened itself. 

"My two brothers were very hard towards her, like their father was, andnever gave her a caress, and, used to seeing her count for nothing inthe house, they treated her rather like a servant, and so I was the onlyone of her sons who really loved her, and whom she loved. 

"When she died, I was seventeen, and I must add, in order that you mayunderstand what follows, that there had been a law suit between myfather and my mother, and that their property had been separated, to mymother's advantage, as, thanks to the tricks of the law, and theintelligent devotion of a lawyer to her interests, she had preserved theright of making her will in favor of anyone she pleased. 

"We were told that there was a will lying at the lawyer's, and wereinvited to be present at the reading of it. I can remember it, as if itwere yesterday. It was a grand, dramatic, burlesque, surprising scene, brought about by the posthumous revolt of that dead woman, by that cryfor liberty, that claim from the depths of her tomb, of that martyredwoman who had been crushed by our habits during her life, and, who, fromher closed tomb, uttered a despairing appeal for independence. 

"The man who thought that he was my father, a stout, ruddy-faced man, who gave everyone the idea of a butcher, and my brothers, two greatfellows of twenty and twenty-two, were waiting quietly in their chairs. Monsieur de Bourneval, who had been invited to be present, came in andstood behind me. He was very pale, and bit his moustache, which wasturning gray. No doubt he was prepared for what was going to happen, andthe lawyer double-locked the door and began to read the will, afterhaving opened the envelope, which was sealed with red wax, and whosecontents he was ignorant of, in our presence. "

My friend stopped suddenly and got up, and from his writing-table hetook an old paper, unfolded it, kissed it, and then continued: "This isthe will of my beloved mother:

 "'I, the undersigned, Anne Catherine-Genevieve-Mathilde de Croixlure, the legitimate wife of Leopold-Joseph Goutran de Courcils, sound in body and mind, here express my last wishes. 

 "'I first of all ask God, and then my dear son René, to pardon me for the act I am about to commit. I believe that my child's heart is great enough to understand me, and to forgive me. I have suffered my whole life long. I was married out of calculation, then despised, misunderstood, oppressed and constantly deceived by my husband. 

 "'I forgive him, but I owe him nothing. 

 "'My eldest sons never loved me, never spoilt me, scarcely treated me as a mother, but during my whole life I was everything that I ought to have been, and I owe them nothing more after my death. The ties of blood cannot exist without daily and constant affection. An ungrateful son is less than a stranger; he is a culprit, for he has no right to be indifferent towards his mother. 

 "'I have always trembled before men, before their unjust laws, their inhuman customs, their shameful prejudices. Before God, I have no longer any fear. Dead, I fling aside disgraceful hypocrisy; I dare to speak my thoughts, and to avow and to sign the secret of my heart. 

 "'I therefore leave that part of my fortune of which the law allows me to dispose, as a deposit with my dear lover Pierre-Gennes-Simon de Bourneval, to revert afterwards to our dear son, René. 

 "'(This wish is, moreover, formulated more precisely in a notarial deed). 

 "'And I declare before the Supreme Judge who hears me, that I should have cursed heaven and my own existence, if I had not met my lover's deep, devoted, tender, unshaken affection, if I had not felt in his arms that the Creator made His creatures to love, sustain and console each other, and to weep together in the hours of sadness. 

 "'Monsieur de Courcils is the father of my two eldest sons; René alone owes his life to Monsieur de Bourneval. I pray to the Master of men and of their destinies, to place father and son above social prejudices, to make them love each other until they die, and to love me also in my coffin. 

 "'These are my last thoughts, and my last wish. 

 "'MATHILDE DE CROIXLUCE. '"

"'Monsieur de Courcils had arisen and he cried:

"'It is the will of a mad woman. '

"Then Monsieur de Bourneval stepped forward and said in a loud andpenetrating voice: 'I, Simon de Bourneval, solemnly declare that thiswriting contains nothing but the strict truth, and I am ready to proveit by letters which I possess. '

"On hearing that, Monsieur de Courcils went up to him, and I thoughtthey were going to collar each other. There they stood, both of themtall, one stout and the other thin, both trembling. My mother's husbandstammered out: 'You are a worthless wretch!' And the other replied in aloud, dry voice: 'We will meet somewhere else, monsieur. I should havealready slapped your ugly face, and challenged you a long time ago, if Ihad not, before everything else, thought of the peace of mind of thatpoor woman whom you made suffer so much during her lifetime. '

"Then, turning to me, he said: 'You are my son; will you come with me? Ihave no right to take you away, but I shall assume it, if you willkindly come with me. ' I shook his hand without replying, and we went outtogether; I was certainly three parts mad. 

"Two days later Monsieur de Bourneval killed Monsieur de Courcils in aduel. My brothers, fearing some terrible scandal, held their tongues, and I offered them, and they accepted, half the fortune which my motherhad left me. I took my real father's name, renouncing that which the lawgave me, but which was not really mine. Monsieur de Bourneval died threeyears afterwards, and I have not consoled myself yet. "

He rose from his chair, walked up and down the room, and, standing infront of me, he said:

"Well, I say that my mother's will was one of the most beautiful andloyal, as well as one of the grandest acts that a woman could perform. Do you not think so?"

I gave him both my hands:

"Most certainly I do, my friend. "

A COUNTRY EXCURSION

For five months they had been talking of going to lunch at some countryrestaurant in the neighborhood of Paris, on Madame Dufour's birthday, and as they were looking forward very impatiently to the outing, theyhad got up very early that morning. Monsieur Dufour had borrowed themilkman's tilted cart, and drove himself. It was a very tidy, two-wheeled conveyance, with a hood, and in it the wife, resplendent ina wonderful, sherry-colored, silk dress, sat by the side of her husband. 

The old grandmother and a girl were accommodated with two chairs, and aboy with yellow hair was lying at the bottom of the trap, of whomhowever, nothing was to be seen except his head. 

When they got to the bridge of Neuilly, Monsieur Dufour said: "Here weare in the country at last!" and at that signal, his wife had grownsentimental about the beauties of nature. When they got to the crossroads at Courbevoie, they were seized with admiration for the distanthorizon down there; on the right, was the spire of Argenteuil church, and above it rose the hills of Sannois, and the mill of Orgemont, whileon the left, the aqueduct of Marly stood out against the clear morningsky, and in the distance they could see the terrace of Saint-Germain;and opposite to them, at the end of a low chain of hills, the new fortof Cormeilles. Quite in the distance, a very long way off, beyond theplains and villages, one could see the somber green of the forests. 

The sun was beginning to shine in their faces, the dust got into theireyes, and on either side of the road there stretched an interminabletract of bare, ugly country which smelt unpleasantly. One might havethought that it had been ravaged by the pestilence, which had evenattacked the buildings, for skeletons of dilapidated and desertedhouses, or small cottages, which were left in an unfinished state, asthe contractors had not been paid, reared their four roofless walls oneach side. 

Here and there tall factory chimneys rose up from the barren soil; theonly vegetation on that putrid land, where the spring breezes wafted anodor of petroleum and shist, which was mingled with another smell, thatwas even still less agreeable. At last, however, they crossed the Seinea second time, and it was delightful on the bridge. The river sparkledin the sun, and they had a feeling of quiet satisfaction and enjoyment, in drinking in the purer air, that was not impregnated by the blacksmoke of factories, nor by the miasma from the deposits of night soil. Aman whom they met, told them that the name of the place was _Bézons_, and so Monsieur Dufour pulled up, and read the attractive announcementoutside an eating-house: _Restaurant Poulin, stews and fried fish, private rooms, arbors and swings. _

"Well! Madame Dufour, will this suit you? Will you make up your mind atlast?"

She read the announcement in her turn, and then looked at the house fora time. 

It was a white, country inn, built by the road side, and through theopen door she could see the bright zinc of the counter, at which twoworkmen, out for the day, were sitting. At last she made up her mind, and said:

"Yes, this will do; and, besides, there is a view. "

So they drove into a large yard with trees in it, behind the inn, whichwas only separated from the river by the towing-path, and got out. Thehusband sprang out first, and then held out his arms for his wife, andas the step was very high, Madame Dufour, in order to reach him, had toshow the lower part of her limbs, whose former slenderness haddisappeared in fat, the Monsieur Dufour, who was already getting excitedby the country air, pinched her calf, and then taking her in his arms, he set her onto the ground, as if she had been some enormous bundle. Sheshook the dust out of the silk dress, and then looked round, to see inwhat sort of a place she was. 

She was a stout woman, of about thirty-six, full-blown and delightful tolook at. She could hardly breathe, as her stays were laced too tightly, and their pressure forced the heaving mass of her superabundant bosom upto her double chin. Next, the girl put her hand onto her father'sshoulder, and jumped lightly out. The boy with the yellow hair had gotdown by stepping on the wheel, and he helped Monsieur Dufour to get hisgrandmother out. Then they unharnessed the horse, which they tied up toa tree, and the carriage fell back, with both shafts in the air. The mentook off their coats, and washed their hands in a pail of water, andthen went and joined their ladies who had already taken possession ofthe swings. 

Mademoiselle Dufour was trying to swing herself standing up, but shecould not succeed in getting a start. She was a pretty girl of abouteighteen; one of those women who suddenly excite your desire when youmeet them in the street, and who leave you with a vague feeling ofuneasiness, and of excited senses. She was tall, had a small waist andlarge hips, with a dark skin, very large eyes, and very black hair. Herdress clearly marked the outlines of her firm, full figure, which wasaccentuated by the motion of her hips as she tried to swing herselfhigher. Her arms were stretched over her head to hold the rope, so thather bosom rose at every movement she made. Her hat, which a gust of windhad blown off, was hanging behind her, and as the swing gradually rosehigher and higher, she showed her delicate limbs up to the knees eachtime, and the wind from the petticoats, which was more heady than thefumes of wine, blew into the faces of the two men, who were looking ather and smiling. 

Sitting in the other swing, Madame Dufour kept saying in a monotonousvoice:

"Cyprian, come and swing me; do come and swing me, Cyprian!"

At last he went, and turning up his shirt sleeves as if he intended towork very hard, he, with much difficulty set his wife in motion. Sheclutched the two ropes, and held her legs out straight, so as not totouch the ground. She enjoyed feeling giddy at the motion of the swing, and her whole figure shook like a jelly on a dish, but as she wenthigher and higher, she grew too giddy and got frightened. Every time shewas coming back she uttered a piercing scream which made all the littleurchins come round, and, down below, beneath the garden hedge, shevaguely saw a row of mischievous heads, who made various grimaces asthey laughed. 

When a servant girl came out, they ordered lunch. 

"Some fried fish, a stewed rabbit, salad, and dessert, " Madame Dufoursaid, with an important air. 

"Bring two quarts of beer and a bottle of claret, " her husband said. 

"We will have lunch on the grass, " the girl added. 

The grandmother, who had an affection for cats, had been running afterone that belonged to the house, and had been bestowing the mostaffectionate words on it, for the last ten minutes. The animal, whichwas no doubt secretly flattered by her attentions, kept close to thegood woman, but just out of reach of her hand, and quietly walked roundthe trees, against which she rubbed herself, with her tail up, andpurring with pleasure. 

"Hulloh!" the young man with the yellow hair, who was ferreting about, suddenly exclaimed, "here are two swell boats!" They all went to look atthem, and saw two beautiful skiffs in a wooden boat-house, which were asbeautifully finished as if they had been objects of luxury. They weremoored side by side, like two tall, slender girls, in their narrowshining length, and excited the wish to float in them on warm summermornings and evenings, along the bower-covered banks of the river, wherethe trees dipped their branches into the water, where the rushes arecontinually rustling in the breeze, and where the swift king-fishersdart about like flashes of blue lightning. 

The whole family looked at them with great respect. 

"Oh! They are indeed two swell boats, " Monsieur Dufour repeated gravely, and he examined them gravely, and he examined them like a connoisseur. He had been in the habit of rowing in his younger days, he said, andwhen he had that in his hands--and he went through the action of pullingthe oars--he did not care a fig for anybody. He had beaten more than oneEnglishman formerly at the Joinville regattas. He grew quite excited atlast, and offered to make a bet, that in a boat like that, he could rowsix leagues an hour, without exerting himself. 

"Lunch is ready, " the waitress said, appearing at the entrance to theboat-house, so they all hurried off, but two young men were alreadylunching at the best place, which Madame Dufour had chosen in her mindas her seat. No doubt they were the owners of the skiffs, for they weredressed in boating costume. They were stretched out, almost lying onchairs, and were sunburnt, and had on flannel trousers and thin cottonjerseys, with short sleeves, which showed their bare arms, which were asstrong as blackmiths'. They were two strong fellows, who thought a greatdeal of their vigor, and who showed in all their movements thatelasticity and grace of the limbs which can only be acquired byexercise, and which is so different to the deformity with which the samecontinual work stamps the mechanic. 

They exchanged a rapid smile when they saw the mother, and then a lookon seeing the daughter. 

"Let us give up our place, " one of them said: "it will make usacquainted with them. "

The other got up immediately, and holding his black and red boating-capin his hand, he politely offered the ladies the only shady place in thegarden. With many excuses they accepted, and so that it might be morerural, they sat on the grass, without either tables or chairs. 

The two young men took their plates, knives, forks, etc. , to a table alittle way off, and began to eat again, and their bare arms, which theyshowed continually, rather embarrassed the girl. She even pretended toturn her head aside, and not to see them, while Madame Dufour, who wasrather bolder, tempted by feminine curiosity, looked at them everymoment, and no doubt compared them with the secret unsightliness of herhusband. She had squatted herself on the ground, with her legs tuckedunder her, after the manner of tailors, and she kept wriggling aboutcontinually under the pretext that ants were crawling about hersomewhere. Monsieur Dufour, whom the presence of strangers of politenesshad put into rather a bad tempter, was trying to find a comfortableposition, which he did not, however, succeed in doing, and the young manwith the yellow hair was eating as silently as an ogre. 

"It is lovely weather, Monsieur, " the stout lady said to one of theboating-men. She wished to be friendly, because they had given up theirplace. 

"It is, indeed, Madame, " he replied; "do you often go into the country?"

"Oh! Only once or twice a year, to get a little fresh air; and you, monsieur?"

"I come and sleep here every night. "

"Oh! That must be very nice?"

"Certainly it is, Madame. " And he gave them such a practical account ofhis daily life, that it gave rise in the hearts of these shop-keepers, who were deprived of the meadows, and who longed for country walks, tothat foolish love of nature, which they all feel so strongly the wholeyear round, behind the counter in their shop. 

The girl raised her eyes, and looked at the oarsman with emotion, andMonsieur Dufour spoke for the first time. 

"It is indeed a happy life, " he said. And then he added: "A little morerabbit, my dear?"

"No, thank you, " she replied and turning to the young men again, andpointing to their arms asked: "Do you never feel cold like that?"

They both began to laugh, and they frightened the family by the accountof the enormous fatigue they could endure, of their bathing while in astate of tremendous perspiration, of their rowing in the fog at night, and they struck their chests violently, to show how they sounded. 

"Ah! You look very strong, " the husband said, who did not talk any moreof the time when he used to beat the English. The girl was looking atthem aside now, and the young fellow with the yellow hair was coughingviolently, as he had swallowed some wine the wrong way, and bespatteringMadame Dufour's cherry-colored silk dress, who got angry, and sent forsome water, to wash the spots. 

Meanwhile it had grown unbearably hot, the sparkling river looked like ablaze of fire, and the fumes of the wine were getting into their heads. Monsieur Dufour, who had a violent hiccough, had unbuttoned hiswaistcoat, and the top of his trousers, while his wife, who feltchoking, was gradually unfastening her dress. The apprentice was shakinghis yellow wig in a happy frame of mind, and kept helping himself towine, and as the old grandmother felt drunk, she also felt very stiffand dignified. As for the girl, she showed nothing, except a peculiarbrightness in her eyes, while the brown skin on the cheeks became morerosy. 

The coffee finished them off; they spoke of singing, and each of themsang, or repeated a couplet, which the others repeated frantically. Thenthey got up with some difficulty, and while the two women, who wererather dizzy, were getting the fresh air, the two men, who werealtogether drunk, were performing gymnastic tricks. Heavy, limp, andwith scarlet faces, they hung awkwardly onto the iron rings, withoutbeing able to raise themselves, while their shirts were continuallythreatening to leave their trousers, and to flap in the wind like flags. 

Meanwhile, the two boating-men had got their skiffs into the water, andthey came back, and politely asked the ladies whether they would like arow. 

"Would you like one, Monsieur Dufour?" his wife exclaimed, --"Pleasecome!"

He merely gave her a drunken look, without understanding what she said. Then one of the rowers came up, with two fishing-rods in his hand; andthe hope of catching a gudgeon, that great aim of the Parisianshop-keeper, made Dufour's dull eyes gleam, and he politely allowed themto do whatever they liked, while he sat in the shade, under the bridge, with his feet dangling over the river, by the side of the young man withthe yellow hair, who was sleeping soundly close to him. 

One of the boating men made a martyr of himself and took the mother. 

"Let us go to the little wood on the _Ile aux Anglias_!" he called out, as he rowed off. The other skiff went slower, for the rower was lookingat his companion so intently, that he thought of nothing else, and hisemotion paralyzed his strength, while the girl, who was sitting on thesteerer's seat, gave herself up to the enjoyment of being on the water. She felt disinclined to think, felt a lassitude in her limbs, and atotal abandonment of herself, as if she were intoxicated, and she hadbecome very flushed, and breathed shortly. The effects of the wine, which were increased by the extreme heat, made all the trees on the bankseem to bow, as she passed. A vague wish for enjoyment and afermentation for her blood, seemed to pervade her whole body, which wasexcited by the heat of the day; and she was also agitated by this_tête-à-tête_ on the water, in a place which seemed depopulated by theheat, with this young man who thought her pretty, whose looks seemed tocaress her skin, and whose looks were as penetrating and pervading asthe sun's rays. 

Their inability to speak, increased their emotion, and they looked aboutthem, but at last he made an effort and asked her name. 

"Henriette, " she said. 

"Why! My name is Henri, " he replied. The sound of their voices hadcalmed them, and they looked at the banks. The other skiff had passedthem, and seemed to be waiting for them, and the rower called out:

"We will meet you in the wood; we are going as far as _Robinson's_[13]because Madame Dufour is thirsty. " Then he bent over his oars again, androwed off so quickly that he was soon out of sight. 

[Footnote 13: A well-known restaurant on the banks of the Seine, whichis much frequented by the middle classes. --TRANSLATOR. ]

Meanwhile, a continual roar, which they had heard for some time, camenearer, and the river itself seemed to shiver, as if the dull noise wererising from its depths. 

"What is that noise?" she asked. It was the noise of the weir, which cutthe river in two, at the island, and he was explaining it to her, whenabove the noise of the waterfall, they heard the song of a bird, whichseemed a long way off. 

"Listen!" he said; "the nightingales are singing during the day, so thefemales must be sitting. "

A nightingale! She had never heard one before, and the idea of listeningto one roused visions of poetic tenderness in her heart. A nightingale!That is to say, the invisible witness of her lovers' interview whichJuliette invoked on her balcony[14]; the celestial music, which isattuned to human kisses, that eternal inspirer of all those languorousromances which open an ideal sky to all the poor little tender hearts ofsensitive girls!

[Footnote 14: Romeo and Juliet, Act III, Scene V. ]

She was going to hear a nightingale. 

"We must not make a noise, " her companion said, "and then we can go intothe wood, and sit down close to it. "

The skiff seemed to glide. They saw the trees on the island, whose bankswere so low, that they could look into the depths of the thickets. Theystopped, he made the boat fast, Henriette took hold of Henri's arm, andthey went beneath the trees. 

"Stop, " he said, so she bent down, and they went into an inextricablethicket of creepers, leaves, and reed-grass, which formed aninpenetrable asylum, and which the young man laughingly called, "hisprivate room. "

Just above their heads, perched in one of the trees which hid them, thebird was still singing. He uttered shakes and roulades, and then long, vibrating sounds that filled the air, and seemed to lose themselves onthe horizon, across the level country, through that burning silencewhich weighed upon the whole country round. They did not speak for fearof frightening it away. They were sitting close together, and slowlyHenri's arm stole round the girl's waist and squeezed it gently. Shetook that daring hand without any anger, and kept removing it wheneverhe put it round her; without, however, feeling at all embarrassed bythis caress, just as if it had been something quite natural, which shewas resisting just as naturally. 

She was listening to the bird in ecstasy. She felt an infinite longingfor happiness, for some sudden demonstration of tenderness, for therevelation of super-human poetry, and she felt such a softening at herheart, and relaxation of her nerves, that she began to cry, withoutknowing why, and now the young man was straining her close to him, andshe did not remove his arm; she did not think of it. Suddenly thenightingale stopped, and a voice called out in the distance:

"Henriette!"

"Do not reply, " he said in a low voice; "you will drive the bird away. "

But she had no idea of doing so, and they remained in the same positionfor some time. Madame Dufour had sat down somewhere or other, for fromtime to time they heard the stout lady break out into little bursts oflaughter. 

The girl was still crying; she was filled with strange sensations. Henri's head was on her shoulder, and suddenly he kissed her on thelips. She was surprised and angry, and, to avoid him, she stood up. 

They were both very pale, when they quitted their grassy retreat. Theblue sky looked dull to them, and the ardent sun was clouded over totheir eyes, but they perceived not the solitude and silence. They walkedquickly side by side, without speaking or touching each other, for theyappeared to be irreconcilable enemies, as if disgust had sprung upbetween them, and hatred between their souls, and from time to timeHenriette called out: "Mamma!"

By-and-bye they heard a noise in a thicket, and the stout lady appearedlooking rather confused, and her companion's face was wrinkled withsmiles which he could not check. 

Madame Dufour took his arm, and they returned to the boats, and Henri, who was going on first, still without speaking, by the girl's side, andat last they got back to Bézons. Monsieur Dufour, who had got sober, waswaiting for them very impatiently, while the young man with the yellowhair, was having a mouthful of something to eat, before leaving the inn. The carriage was in the yard, with the horse in, and the grandmother, who had already got in, was very frightened at the thought of beingovertaken by night, before they got back to Paris, as the outskirts werenot safe. 

They shook hands, and the Dufour family drove off. 

"Good-bye, until we meet again!" the oarsman cried, and the answer theygot was a sigh and a tear. 

 * * * * *

Two months later, as Henri was going along the _Rue des Martyrs_, he saw_Dufour, Ironmonger_ over a door, and so he went in, and saw the stoutlady sitting at the counter. They recognized each other immediately, andafter an interchange of polite greetings, he asked after them all. 

"And how is Mademoiselle Henriette?" he inquired, specially. 

"Very well, thank you; she is married. "

"Ah!" ... But mastering his feelings, he added: "Whom was she marriedto?"

"To that young man who went with us, you know, he has joined us inbusiness. "

"I remember him, perfectly. "

He was going out, feeling very unhappy, though scarcely knowing why, when Madame called him back. 

"And how is your friend?" she asked, rather shyly. 

"He is very well, thank you. "

"Please give him our compliments, and beg him to come and call, when heis in the neighborhood. "

She then added: "Tell him it will give me great pleasure. "

"I will be sure to do so. Adieu!"

"I will not say that; come again, very soon. "

 * * * * *

The next year, one very hot Sunday, all the details of that adventurewhich he had never forgotten, suddenly came back to him so clearly, thathe returned to their room in the wood, and he was overwhelmed withastonishment when he went in. She was sitting on the grass, looking verysad, while by her side, again in his shirt sleeves the young man withthe yellow hair was sleeping soundly, like some brute. 

She grew so pale when she saw Henri, that at first he thought she wasgoing to faint, then, however, they began to talk quite naturally. Butwhen he told her that he was very fond of that spot, and went there veryoften on Sundays, she looked into his eyes for a long time. "I, too, think of it, " she replied. 

"Come, my dear, " her husband said, with a yawn; "I think it is time forus to be going. "

THE LANCER'S WIFE

I

It was after Bourbaki's defeat in the East of France. The army, brokenup, decimated and worn out, had been obliged to retreat intoSwitzerland, after that terrible campaign, and it was only the shorttime that it lasted, which saved a hundred and fifty thousand men fromcertain death. Hunger, the terrible cold, forced marches in the snowwithout boots, over bad mountainous roads, had caused us_francs-tireurs_ especially the greatest sufferings, for we were withouttents and almost without food, always in front when we were marchingtowards Belfort, and in the rear, when returning by the Jura. Of ourlittle band that had numbered twelve hundred men on the first ofJanuary, there remained only twenty-two pale, thin, ragged wretches, when we at length succeeded in reaching Swiss territory. 

There we were safe and could rest. Everybody knows what sympathy wasshown to the unfortunate French army, and how well it was cared for. Weall gained fresh life, and those who had been rich and happy before thewar, declared that they had never experienced a greater feeling ofcomfort than they did then. Just think. We actually had something to eatevery day, and could sleep every night. 

Meanwhile, the war continued in the East of France, which had beenexcluded from the armistice. Besançon still kept the enemy in check, andthe latter had their revenge by ravaging the _Franché Comte_. Sometimeswe heard that they had approached quite close to the frontier, and wesaw Swiss troops, who were to form a line of observation between us andthem, set out on their march. 

That pained us in the end, and as we regained health and strength thelonging for fighting laid hold of us. It was disgraceful and irritatingto know that within two or three leagues of us, the Germans werevictorious and insolent, to feel that we were protected by ourcaptivity, and to feel that on that account we were powerless againstthem. 

One day, our captain took five or six of us aside, and spoke to us aboutit, long and furiously. He was a fine fellow that captain. He had been asub-lieutenant in the Zouaves, was tall and thin, and as hard as steel, and during the whole campaign he had cut out their work for the Germans. He fretted in inactivity and could not accustom himself to the idea ofbeing a prisoner and of doing nothing. 

"Confound it!" he said to us, "does it not pain you to know that thereis a number of Uhlans within two hours of us? Does it not almost driveyou mad to know that those beggarly wretches are walking about asmasters in our mountains, where six determined men might kill a wholespitful any day? I cannot endure it any longer, and I must go there. "

"But how can you manage it, Captain?"

"How? It is not very difficult! Just as if we had not done a thing ortwo within the last six months, and got out of woods that were guardedby very different men from the Swiss. The day that you wish to crossover into France, I will undertake to get you there. "

"That may be; but what shall we do in France without any arms?"

"Without arms? We will get them over yonder, by Jove!"

"You are forgetting the treaty, " another soldier said; "we shall run therisk of doing the Swiss an injury, if Manteuffel learns that they haveallowed prisoners to return to France. "

"Come, " said the captain, "those are all bad reasons. I mean to go andkill some Prussians; that is all I care about. If you do not wish to doas I do, well and good; only say so at once. I can quite well go bymyself; I do not require anybody's company. "

Naturally we all protested and as it was quite impossible to make thecaptain alter his mind, we felt obliged to promise to go with him. Weliked him too much to leave him in the lurch, as he never failed us inany extremity; and so the expedition was decided on. 

II

The Captain had a plan of his own, that he had been cogitating over forsome time. A man in that part of the country, whom he knew, was going tolend him a cart, and six suits of peasants' clothes. We could hide undersome straw at the bottom of the wagon, and it would be loaded withGruyère cheese, which he was supposed to be going to sell in France. Thecaptain told the sentinels that he was taking two friends with him, toprotect his goods, in case any one should try to rob him, which did notseem an extraordinary precaution. A Swiss officer seemed to look at thewagon in a knowing manner, but that was in order to impress hissoldiers. In a word, neither officers nor men could make it out. 

"Get on, " the captain said to the horses, as he cracked his whip, whileour three men quietly smoked their pipes. I was half-suffocated in mybox, which only admitted the air through those holes in front, while atthe same time I was nearly frozen, for it was terribly cold. 

"Get on, " the captain said again, and the wagon loaded with Gruyèrecheese entered France. 

The Prussian lines were very badly guarded, as the enemy trusted to thewatchfulness of the Swiss. The sergeant spoke North German, while ourcaptain spoke the bad German of the _Four Cantons_, and so they couldnot understand each other; the sergeant, however, pretended to be veryintelligent, and in order to make us believe that he understood us, theyallowed us to continue our journey, and after traveling for seven hours, being continually stopped in the same manner, we arrived at a smallvillage of the Jura, in ruins, at nightfall. 

What were wre going to do? Our only arms were the captain's whip, ouruniforms, our peasants' blouses, and our food our Gruyère cheese. Oursole riches consisted in our ammunition, packets of cartridges which wehad stowed away inside some of the huge cheeses. We had about a thousandof them, just two hundred each, but then we wanted rifles, and they mustbe Chassepots; luckily, however, the captain was a bold man of aninventive mind, and this was the plan that he hit upon. 

While three of us remained hidden in a cellar in the abandoned village, he continued his journey as far as Besançon with the empty wagon and oneman. The town was invested, but one can always make one's way into atown among the hills by crossing the table-land till within about tenmiles of the walls, and then by following paths and ravines on foot. They left their wagon at Omans, among the Germans, and escaped out of itat night on foot, so as to gain the heights which border the riverDoubs; the next day they entered Besançon, where there were plenty ofChassepots. There were nearly forty thousand of them left in thearsenal, and General Roland, a brave marine, laughed at the captain'sdaring project, but let him have six rifles and wished him "good luck. "There he had also found his wife, who had been through all the war withus before the campaign in the East, and who had been only prevented byillness from continuing with Bourbaki's army. She had recovered, however, in spite of the cold, which was growing more and more intense, and in spite of the numberless privations that awaited her, shepersisted in accompanying her husband. He was obliged to give way toher, and they all three, the captain, his wife, and our comrade, startedon their expedition. 

Going was nothing in comparison to returning. They were obliged totravel by night, so as to avoid meeting anybody, as the possession ofsix rifles would have made them liable to suspicion. But in spite ofeverything, a week after leaving us, the captain and his _two men_ wereback with us again. The campaign was about to begin. 

III

The first night of his arrival, he began it himself, and, under thepretext of examining the country round, he went along the high road. 

I must tell you, that the little village which served as our fortresswas a small collection of poor, badly built houses, which had beendeserted long before. It lay on a steep slope, which terminated in awooded plain. The country people sell the wood; they send it down theravines, which are called _coulées_, locally, and which lead down to theplain, and there they stack it into piles, which they sell thrice a yearto the wood merchants. The spot where this market is held, is indicatedby two small houses by the side of the high road, and which serve forpublic-houses. The captain had gone down there by one of these_coulées_. 

He had been gone about half-an-hour, and we were on the look-out at thetop of the ravine when we heard a shot. The captain had ordered us notto stir, and only to come to him when we heard him blow his trumpet. Itwas made of a goat's horn, and could be heard a league off, but it gaveno sound, and in spite of our cruel anxiety we were obliged to wait insilence, with out rifles by our side. 

It is nothing to go down these _coulées_; one need only let oneselfglide down, but it is more difficult to get up again; one has toscramble up by catching hold of the hanging branches of the trees, andsometimes on all fours, by sheer strength. A whole mortal hour passedand he did not come, nothing moved in the brushwood. The captain's wifebegan to grow impatient; what could he be doing? Why did he not call us?Did the shot that we had heard proceed from an enemy, and had he killedor wounded our leader, her husband? They did not know what to think, butI myself fancied, either that he was dead, or that his enterprise wassuccessful, and I was merely anxious and curious to know what he haddone. 

Suddenly we heard the sound of his trumpet, and we were much surprisedthat instead of coming from below, as we had expected, it came from thevillage behind us. What did that mean? It was a mystery to us, but thesame idea struck us all, that he had been killed, and that the Prussianswere blowing the trumpet to draw us into an ambush. We thereforereturned to the cottage, keeping a careful look out, with our fingers onthe trigger, and hiding under the branches, but his wife, in spite ofour entreaties, rushed on, leaping like a tigress. She thought that shehad to avenge her husband, and had fixed the bayonet to her rifle, andwe lost sight of her at the moment that we heard the trumpet again, anda few moments later we heard her calling out to us:

"Come on! come on! he is alive! it is he!"

We hastened on, and saw the captain smoking his pipe at the entrance ofthe village, but strangely enough he was on horseback. 

"Ah! Ah!" he said to us, "you see that there is something to be donehere. Here I am on horseback already. I knocked over a uhlan yonder, andtook his horse; I suppose they were guarding the wood, but it was bydrinking and swilling in clover. One of them, the sentry at the door, had not time to see me before I gave him a sugar plum in his stomach, and then, before the others could come out, I jumped on to the horse andwas off like a shot. Eight or ten of them followed me, I think, but Itook the cross-roads through the woods; I have got scratched and torn abit, but here I am, and now, my good fellows, attention, and take care!Those brigands will not rest until they have caught us, and we mustreceive them with rifle bullets. Come along; let us take up our posts!"

We set out. One of us took up his position a good way from the villageof the cross-roads; I was posted at the entrance of the main street, where the road from the level country enters the village, while the twoothers, the captain and his wife were in the middle of the village, nearthe church, whose tower served for an observatory and citadel. 

We had not been in our places long before we heard a shot followed byanother, and then two, then three. The first was evidently a chassepot;one recognized it by the sharp report, which sounds like the crack of awhip, while the other three came from the lancers' carbines. 

The captain was furious. He had given orders to the outpost to let theenemy pass and merely to follow them at a distance, if they marchedtowards the village, and to join me when they had gone well between thehouses. Then they were to appear suddenly, take the patrol between twofires, and not allow a single man to escape, for posted as we were, thesix of us could have hemmed in ten Prussians, if needful. 

"That confounded Piédelot has roused them, " the captain said, "and theywill not venture to come on blindfold any longer. And then I am quitesure that he has managed to get a shot into himself somewhere or other, for we hear nothing of him. It serves him right; why did he not obeyorders?" And then, after a moment, he grumbled in his beard: "After all, I am sorry for the poor fellow, he is so brave and shoots so well!"

The captain was right in his conjectures. We waited until evening, without seeing the uhlans: they had retreated after the first attack, but unfortunately we had not seen Piédelot either. Was he dead or aprisoner? When night came, the captain proposed that we should go outand look for him, and so the three of us started. At the cross-roads wefound a broken rifle and some blood, while the ground was trampled down, but we did not find either a wounded man or a dead body, although wesearched every thicket, and at midnight we returned without havingdiscovered anything of our unfortunate comrade. 

"It is very strange, " the captain growled. "They must have killed himand thrown him into the bushes somewhere; they cannot possibly havetaken him prisoner, as he would have called out for help. I cannotunderstand it all. " Just as he said that, bright, red flames shot up inthe direction of the inn on the high road, which illuminated the sky. 

"Scoundrels! cowards!" he shouted. "I will bet they have set fire to thetwo houses on the market-place, in order to have their revenge and thenthey will scuttle off without saying a word. They will be satisfied withhaving killed a man and setting fire to two houses. All right. It shallnot pass over like that. We must go for them; they will not like toleave their illuminations in order to fight. "

"It would be a great stroke of luck, if we could set Piédelot free atthe same time, " some one said. 

The five of us set off, full of rage and hope. In twenty minutes we hadgot to the bottom of the _coulée_, and we had not yet seen anyone, whenwe had got within a hundred yards of the inn. The fire was behind thehouse, and so all that we saw of it was the reflection above the roof. However, we were walking rather slowly, as we were afraid of a trap, when suddenly we heard Piédelot's well-known voice. It had a strangesound, however, for it was at the same time dull and vibrating, stifledand clear, as if he was calling out as loud as he could with a bit ofrag stuffed into his mouth. He seemed to be hoarse and panting, and theunlucky fellow kept exclaiming: "Help! Help!"

We sent all thoughts of prudence to the devil, and in two bounds we wereat the back of the inn, where a terrible sight met our eyes. 

IV

Piédelot was being burnt alive. He was writhing in the middle of a heapof fagots, against a stake to which they had fastened him, and theflames were licking him with their sharp tongues. When he saw us, histongue seemed to stick in his throat, he drooped his head, and seemed asif he were going to die. It was only the affair of a moment to upset theburning pile, to scatter the embers, and to cut the ropes that fastenedhim. 

Poor fellow! In what a terrible state we found him. The evening before, he had had his left arm broken, and it seemed as if he had been badlybeaten since then, for his whole body was covered with wounds, bruises, and blood. The flames had also begun their work on him, and he had twolarge burns, one on his loins, and the other on his right thigh, and hisbeard and his hair were scorched. Poor Piédelot!

Nobody knows the terrible rage we felt at this sight! We would haverushed headlong at a hundred thousand Prussians. Our thirst forvengeance was intense but the cowards had run away, leaving their crimebehind them. Where could we find them now? Meanwhile, however, thecaptain's wife was looking after Piédelot, and dressing his wounds asbest she could, while the captain himself shook hands with him excitedlyand in a few minutes he came to himself. 

"Good morning, captain, good morning, all of you, " he said. "Ah! thescoundrels, the wretches! Why twenty of them came to surprise us. "

"Twenty, do you say?"

"Yes, there was a whole band of them, and that is why I disobeyedorders, captain, and fired on them, for they would have killed you all, so I preferred to stop them. That frightened them, and they did notventure to go further than the cross-roads. They were such cowards. Fourof them shot at me at twenty yards, as if I had been a target, and thenthey slashed me with their swords. My arm was broken so that I couldonly use my bayonet with one hand. "

"But why did you not call for help?"

"I took good care not to do that, for you would all have come, and youwould neither have been able to defend me nor yourselves, being onlyfive against twenty. "

"You know that we should not have allowed you to have been taken, poorold fellow. "

"I preferred to die by myself, don't you see! I did not want to bringyou there, for it would have been a mere ambush. "

"Well, we will not talk about it any more. Do you feel rather easier?"

"No, I am suffocating. I know that I cannot live much longer. Thebrutes! They tied me to a tree, and beat me till I felt half dead, andthen they shook my broken arm, but I did not make a sound. I wouldrather have bitten my tongue out than have called out before them.... Now I can say what I am suffering and shed tears; it does one good. Thank you, my kind friends. "

"Poor Piédelot! But we will avenge you, you may be sure!"

"Yes, yes, I want you to do that. Especially, there is a woman amongthem, who passes as the wife of the lancer whom the captain killedyesterday. She is dressed like a lancer, and she tortured me the mostyesterday, and suggested burning me, and it was she who set fire to thewood. Oh! the wretch, the brute.... Ah! how I am suffering! My loins, myarms!" and he fell back panting and exhausted, writhing in his terribleagony, while the captain's wife wiped the perspiration from hisforehead, and we all shed tears of grief and rage, as if we had beenchildren. I will not describe the end to you; he died half-an-hourlater, but before that he told us in which direction the enemy had gone. When he was dead, we gave ourselves time to bury him, and then we setout in pursuit of them, with our hearts full of fury and hatred. 

"We will throw ourselves on the whole Prussian army, if it be needful, "the captain said, "but we will avenge Piédelot. We must catch thosescoundrels. Let us swear to die, rather than not to find them, and if Iam killed first, these are my orders: all the prisoners that you makeare to be shot immediately, and as for the lancer's wife, she is to beviolated before she is put to death. "

"She must not be shot, because she is a woman, " the captain's wife said. "If you survive, I am sure that you would not shoot a woman. Outragingher will be quite sufficient; but if you are killed in this pursuit, Iwant one thing, and that is to fight with her; I will kill her with myown hands, and the others can do what they like with her if she killsme. 

"We will outrage her! We will burn her! We will tear her to pieces!Piédelot shall be avenged, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth!"

V

The next morning we unexpectedly fell on an outpost of uhlans fourleagues away. Surprised by our sudden attack, they were not able tomount their horses, nor even to defend themselves, and in a few momentswe had five prisoners, corresponding to our own number. The captainquestioned them, and from their answers we felt certain that they werethe same whom we had encountered the previous day, then a very curiousoperation took place. One of us was told off to ascertain their sex, andnothing can depict our joy when we discovered what we were seeking amongthem, the female executioner who had tortured our friend. 

The four others were shot on the spot, with their backs towards us, andclose to the muzzles of our rifles, and then we turned our attention tothe woman; what were we going to do with her? I must acknowledge that wewere all of us in favor of shooting her. Hatred, and the wish to avengePiédelot had extinguished all pity in us, and we had forgotten that wewere going to shoot a woman, but a woman reminded us of it, thecaptain's wife; at her entreaties, therefore, we determined to keep herprisoner. 

The captain's poor wife was to be severely punished for this act ofclemency. 

The next day we heard that the armistice had been extended to theEastern part of France, and we had to put an end to our little campaign. Two of us, who belonged to the neighborhood, returned home, so therewere only four of us, all told; the captain, his wife, and two men. Webelonged to Besançon, which was still being besieged in spite of thearmistice. 

"Let us stop here, " said the captain. "I cannot believe that the war isgoing to end like this. The devil take it. Surely there are men stillleft in France, and now is the time to prove what they are made of. Thespring is coming on, and the armistice is only a trap laid for thePrussians. During the time that it lasts, a new army will be formed, andsome fine morning we shall fall upon them again. We shall be ready, andwe have a hostage--let us remain here. "

We fixed our quarters there. It was terribly cold, and we did not go outmuch, and somebody had always to keep the female prisoner in sight. 

She was sullen and never said anything, or else spoke of her husband, whom the captain had killed. She looked at him continually with fierceeyes, and we felt that she was tortured by a wild longing for revenge. That seemed to us to be the most suitable punishment for the terribletorments that she had made Piédelot suffer, for impotent vengeance issuch intense pain!

Alas! we who knew how to avenge our comrade, ought to have thought thatthis woman would know how to avenge her husband, and have been on ourguard. It is true that one of us kept watch every night, and that atfirst we tied her by a long rope to the great oak bench that wasfastened to the wall. But, by and by, as she had never tried to escape, in spite of her hatred for us, we relaxed our extreme prudence, andallowed her to sleep somewhere else except on the bench, and withoutbeing tied. What had we to fear? She was at the end of the room, a manwas on guard at the door, and between her and the sentinel the captain'swife and two other men used to lie. She was alone and unarmed againstfour, so there could be no danger. 

One night when we were asleep, and the captain was on guard, thelancer's wife was lying more quietly in her corner than usual, and shehad even smiled for the first time since she had been our prisoner, during the evening. Suddenly, however, in the middle of the night, wewere all awakened by a terrible cry. We got up, groping about andscarcely were we up when we stumbled over a furious couple who wererolling about and fighting on the ground. It was the captain and thelancer's wife. We threw ourselves on to them, and separated them in amoment. She was shouting and laughing, and he seemed to have the deathrattle. All this took place in the dark. Two of us held her, and when alight was struck, a terrible sight met our eyes. The captain was lyingon the floor in a pool of blood, with an enormous wound in his throat, and his sword bayonet that had been taken from his rifle, was stickingin the red, gaping wound. A few minutes afterwards he died, withouthaving been able to utter a word. 

His wife did not shed a tear. Her eyes were dry, her throat wascontracted, and she looked at the lancer's wife steadfastly, and with acalm ferocity that inspired fear. 

"This woman belongs to me, " she said to us suddenly. "You swore to menot a week ago, to let me kill her as I chose, if she killed my husband, and you must keep your oath. You must fasten her securely to thefireplace, upright against the back of it, and then you can go where youlike, but far from here. I will take my revenge on her to myself. Leavethe captain's body, and we three, he, she, and I, will remain here. "

We obeyed and went away. She promised to write to us to Geneva, as wewere returning there. 

VI

Two days later, I received the following letter, dated the day after wehad left, and that had been written at an inn on the high road:

 "MY FRIEND, "I am writing to you, according to my promise. For the moment I am at the inn, where I have just handed my prisoner over to a Prussian officer. 

 "I must tell you, my friend, that this poor woman has left two children in Germany. She had followed her husband whom she adored, as she did not wish him to be exposed to the risks of war by himself, and as her children were with their grandparents. I have learnt all this since yesterday, and it has turned my ideas of vengeance into more humane feelings. At the very moment when I felt pleasure in insulting this woman, and in threatening her with the most fearful torments, in recalling Piédelot, who had been burnt alive, and in threatening her with a similar death, she looked at me coldly, and said:

 "'What have you got to reproach me with, Frenchwoman? You think that you will do right in avenging your husband's death, is not that so?'

 "'Yes, I replied. '

 "'Very well then; in killing him, I did what you are going to do in burning me. I avenged my husband, for your husband killed him. '

 "'Well, ' I replied, 'as you approve of this vengeance, prepare to endure it. '

 "'I do not fear it. '

 "And in fact she did not seem to have lost courage. Her face was calm, and she looked at me without trembling, while I brought wood and dried leaves together, and feverishly threw on to them the powder from some cartridges, which was to make her funeral pile the more cruel. 

 "I hesitated in my thoughts of persecution for a moment. But the captain was there, pale and covered with blood, and he seemed to be looking at me with his large, glassy eyes, and I applied myself to my work again after kissing his pale lips. Suddenly, however, on raising my head, I saw that she was crying, and I felt rather surprised. 

 "'So you are frightened?' I said to her. 

 "'No, but when I saw you kiss your husband, I thought of mine, of all whom I love. "

 "She continued to sob, but stopping suddenly she said to me in broken words, and in a low voice:

 "'Have you any children?'

 "A shiver ran over me, for I guessed that this poor woman had some. She asked me to look in a pocketbook which was in her bosom, and in it I saw two photographs of quite young children, a boy and a girl, with those kind, gentle, chubby faces that German children have. In it there were also two locks of light hair and a letter in a large childish hand, and beginning with German words which meant: 'My dear little mother. '

 "I could not restrain my tears, my dear friend, and so I untied her, and without venturing to look at the face of my poor, dead husband, who was not to be avenged, I went with her as far as the inn. She is free; I have just left her, and she kissed me with tears. I am going upstairs to my husband; come as soon as possible, my dear friend, to look for our two bodies. "

I set off with all speed, and when I arrived, there was a Prussianpatrol at the cottage, and when I asked what it all meant, I was toldthat there was a captain of _Franc-tireurs_ and his wife inside, bothdead. I gave their names; they saw that I knew them, and I begged to beallowed to undertake their funeral. 

"Somebody has already undertaken it, " was the reply. "Go in if you wishto, as you knew them. You can settle about their funeral with theirfriend. "

I went in. The captain and his wife were lying side by side on a bed, and were covered by a sheet. I raised it, and saw that the woman hadinflicted a similar wound in her throat to that from which her husbandhad died. 

At the side of the bed there sat, watching and weeping, the woman whohad been mentioned to me as their best friend. It was the lancer's wife. 

THE COLONEL'S IDEAS

"Upon my word, " Colonel Laporte said, "I am old and gouty, my legs areas stiff as two pieces of wood, and yet if a pretty woman were to tellme to go through the eye of a needle, I believe I should take a jump atit, like a clown through a hoop. I shall die like that; it is in theblood. I am an old beau, one of the old school, and the sight of awoman, a pretty woman, stirs me to the tips of my toes. There!

"And then, we are all very much alike in France; we remain cavaliers, cavaliers of love and fortune, since God has been abolished, whosebody-guard we really were. But nobody will ever get a woman out of ourhearts; there she is, and there she will remain, and we love her, andshall continue to love her, and go on committing all kinds of frolics onher account, as long as there is a France on the map of Europe, and evenif France were to be wiped off the map, there would always be Frenchmenleft. 

"When I am in the presence of a woman, of a pretty woman, I feel capableof anything. By Jove! When I feel her looks penetrating me, herconfounded looks which set your blood on fire, I should like to do Idon't know what; to fight a duel, to have a row, to smash the furniture, in order to show that I am the strongest, the bravest, the most daring, and the most devoted of men. 

"But I am not the only one, certainly not; the whole French army is likeme, that I will swear to you. From the common soldier to the general, weall go forward, and to the very end, when there is a woman in the case, a pretty woman. Remember what Joan of Arc made us do formerly! Come, Iwill make a bet that if a pretty woman had taken command of the army onthe eve of Sedan, when Marshal Mac-Mahon was wounded, we should havebroken through the Prussian lines, by Jove! and have had a drink out oftheir guns. 

"It was not Trochu, but Saint-Geneviève, who was required in Paris, andI remember a little anecdote of the war which proves that we are capableof everything in the presence of a woman. 

"I was a captain, a simple captain, at the time, and I was in command ofa detachment of scouts, who were retreating through a district whichswarmed with Prussians. We were surrounded, pursued, tired out, and halfdead with fatigue and hunger, and by the next day we were bound to reachBar-sur-Tain, otherwise we should be done for, cut off from the mainbody and killed. I do not know how we managed to escape so far. However, we had ten leagues to go during the night, ten leagues through the snow, and with empty stomachs, and I thought to myself:

"'It is all over; my poor devils of fellows will never be able to doit. '

"We had eaten nothing since the day before, and the whole day long weremained hidden in a barn, and huddled close together, so as not to feelthe cold so much; we did not venture to speak or even move, and we sleptby fits and starts, like one sleeps when one is worn out with fatigue. 

"It was dark by five o'clock; that wan darkness caused by the snow, andI shook my men. Some of them would not get up; they were almostincapable oí moving or of standing upright, and their joints were stifffrom the cold and want of motion. 

"In front of us, there was a large expanse of flat, bare country; thesnow was still falling like a curtain, in large, white flakes, whichconcealed everything under a heavy, thick, frozen mantle, a mattress ofice. One might have thought that it was the end of the world. 

"'Come, my lads, let us start. '

"They looked at the thick, white dust which was coming down, and theyseemed to think: 'We have had enough of this; we may just as well diehere!' Then I took out my revolver, and said:

"'I will shoot the first man who flinches. ' And so they set off, butvery slowly, like men whose legs were of very little use to them, and Isent four of them three hundred yards ahead, to scout, and the othersfollowed pell-mell, walking at random and without any order. I put thestrongest in the rear, with orders to quicken the pace of the sluggardswith the points of their bayonets... In the back. 

"The snow seemed as if it were going to bury us alive; it powdered our_kepis_[15] and cloaks without melting, and made phantoms of us, aspecies of specters of dead soldiers, who were very tired, and I said tomyself: 'We shall never get out of this, except by a miracle. '

[Footnote 15: Forage Caps. ]

"Sometimes we had to stop for a few minutes, on account of those whocould not follow us, and then we heard nothing except the falling snow, that vague, almost indiscernible sound which all those flakes make, asthey come down together. Some of the men shook themselves, but othersdid not move, and so I gave the order to set off again; they shoulderedtheir rifles, and with weary feet we set out, when suddenly the scoutsfell back. Something had alarmed them; they had heard voices in front ofthem, and so I sent six men and a sergeant on ahead, and waited. 

"All at once a shrill cry, a woman's cry, pierced through the heavysilence of the snow, and in a few minutes they brought back twoprisoners, an old man and a girl, and I questioned them in a low voice. They were escaping from the Prussians, who had occupied their houseduring the evening, and who had got drunk, The father had become alarmedon his daughter's account, and, without even telling their servants, they had made their escape into the darkness. I saw immediately thatthey belonged to the upper classes, and, as I should have done in anycase, I invited them to come with us, and we started off together, andas the old man knew the road, he acted as our guide. 

"It had ceased snowing; the stars appeared, and the cold became intense. The girl, who was leaning on her father's arm, walked wrearily, and withjerks, and several times she murmured:

"'I have no feeling at all in my feet;' and I suffered more than shedid, I believe, to see that poor little woman dragging herself like thatthrough the snow. But suddenly she stopped, and said:

"'Father, I am so tired that I cannot go any further ther, '

"The old man wanted to carry her, but he could not even lift her up, andshe fell on the ground, with a deep sigh. We all came round her, and asfor me, I stamped on the ground, not knowing what to do, and quiteunable to make up my mind to abandon that man and girl like that, whensuddenly one of the soldiers, a Parisian, whom they had nicknamed_Pratique_, said:

"'Come, comrades, we must carry the young lady, otherwise we shall notshow ourselves Frenchmen, confound it!'

"I really believe that I swore with pleasure, and said: 'That is verygood of you, my children, and I will take my share of the burden. '

"We could indistinctly see the trees of a little wood on the left, through the darkness, and several men went into it, and soon came backwith a bundle of branches twisted into a litter. 

"'Who will lend his cloak? It is for a pretty girl, comrades, ' Pratiquesaid, and ten cloaks were thrown to him. In a moment, the girl waslying, warm and comfortable, among them, and was raised upon sixshoulders. I placed myself at their head, on the right, and very pleasedI was with my charge. 

"We started off much more briskly, as if we had been having a drink ofwine, and I even heard a few jokes. A woman is quite enough to electrifyFrenchmen, you see. The soldiers, who were reanimated and warm, hadalmost reformed their ranks, and an old _franc-tireur_[16] I who wasfollowing the litter, waiting for his turn to replace the first of hiscomrades who might give in, said to one of his neighbors, loud enoughfor me to hear:

[Footnote 16: Self-constituted volunteers, in the Franco-German war of1870-71, whom the Germans often made short work of, whencaught. --TRANSLATOR. ]

"'I am not a young man, now; but by ----, there is nothing like thewomen to make you feel queer from head to foot!'"

"We went on, almost without stopping, until three o'clock in themorning, when suddenly our scouts fell back again, and soon the wholedetachment showed nothing but a vague shadow on the ground, as the menlay on the snow, and I gave my orders in a low voice, and heard theharsh, metallic sound of the cocking of rifles. For there, in the middleof the plain, some strange object was moving about. It might have beentaken for some enormous animal running about, which unfolded itself likea serpent, or came together into a coil, suddenly went quickly to theright or left, stopped, and then went on again. But presently thatwandering shape came near, and I saw a dozen lancers, one behind theother, who were trying to find their way, which they had lost. "

"They were so near by that time, that I could hear the panting of thehorses, the clink of their swords, and the creaking of their saddles, and so cried: 'Fire!'"

"Fifty rifle shots broke the stillness of the night, then there werefour or five reports, and at last one single shot was heard, and whenthe smoke had cleared away, we saw that the twelve men and nine horseshad fallen. Three of the animals were galloping away at a furious pace, and one of them was dragging the body of its rider, which rebounded fromthe ground in a terrible manner, whose foot had caught in the stirrupbehind it. "

"One of the soldiers behind me gave a terrible laugh, and said: 'Thereare a number of widows there!'"

"Perhaps he was married. And a third added: 'It did not take long!'"

"A head was put out of the litter:

"'What is the matter?' she asked; 'you are fighting?'"

"'It is nothing, Mademoiselle, ' I replied; 'we have got rid of a dozenPrussians!'"

"'Poor fellows!' she said. But as she was cold, she quickly disappearedbeneath the cloaks again, and we started off once more. We marched onfor a long time, and at last the sky began to grow pale. The snow becamequite clear, luminous and bright, and a rosy tint appeared in the East, and suddenly a voice in the distance cried:

"'Who goes there?'"

"The whole detachment halted, and I advanced to say who we were. We hadreached the French lines, and as my men defiled before the outpost, acommandant on horseback, whom I had informed of what had taken place, asked in a sonorous voice, as he saw the litter pass him: 'What have youthere?'"

"And immediately, a small head, covered with light hair, appeared, disheveled and smiling, and replied:"

"'It is I, Monsieur. '"

"At this, the men raised a hearty laugh, and we felt quitelight-hearted, while Pratique, who was walking by the side of thelitter, waved his kepi, and shouted:"

"'Vive la France!' And I felt really moved. I do not know why, exceptthat I thought it a pretty and gallant thing to say. "

"It seemed to me as if we had just saved the whole of France, and haddone something that other men could not have done, something simple andreally patriotic. I shall never forget that little face, you may besure, and if I had to give my opinion about abolishing drums, trumpets, and bugles, I should propose to replace them in every regiment by apretty girl, and that would be even better than playing the_Marseillaise_. By Jove! It would put some spirit into a trooper to havea Madonna like that, a living Madonna, by the colonel's side. "

He was silent for a few moments, and then continued, with an air ofconviction, and jerking his head:

"All the same, we are very fond of women, we Frenchmen!"

ONE EVENING

The steamboat _Kleber_ had stopped, and I was admiring the beautiful bayof Bougie, that was opened out before us. The high hills were coveredwith forests, and in the distance the yellow sands formed a beach ofpowdered gold, while the sun shed its fiery rays on the white houses ofthe town. 

The warm African breeze blew the odor of that great, mysteriouscontinent into which men of the Northern races but rarely penetrate, into my face. For three months I had been wandering on the borders ofthat great, unknown world, on the outskirts of that strange world of theostrich, the camel, the gazelle, the hippopotamus, the gorilla, the lionand the tiger, and the negro. I had seen the Arab galloping like thewind, and passing like a floating standard, and I had slept under thosebrown tents, the moving habitation of those white birds of the desert, and I felt, as it were, intoxicated with light, with fancy, and withspace. 

But now, after this final excursion, I should have to start, to returnto France and to Paris, that city of useless chatter, of commonplacecares, and of continual hand-shaking, and I should bid adieu to all thatI had got to like so much, which was so new to me, which I had scarcelyhad time to see thoroughly, and which I so much regretted to leave. 

A fleet of small boats surrounded the steamer, and, jumping into onerowed by a negro lad, I soon reached the quay near the old Saracen gate, whose gray ruins at the entrance of the Kabyle town, looked like an oldescutcheon of nobility. While I was standing by the side of myportmanteau, looking at the great steamer lying at anchor in the roads, and filled with admiration at that unique shore, and that semi-circle ofhills, bathed in blue light, which were more beautiful than those ofAjaccio, or of Porto, in Corsica, a heavy hand was laid on my shoulder, and on turning round I saw a tall man with a long beard, dressed inwhite flannel, and wearing a straw hat, standing by my side, and lookingat me with his blue eyes. 

"Are you not an old school-fellow of mine?" he said. 

"It is very possible. What is your name?"

"Trémoulin. "

"By Jove! You were in the same class as I was. "

"Ah! Old fellow, I recognized you immediately. "

He seemed so pleased, so happy at seeing me, that in an outburst offriendly selfishness, I shook both the hands of my former school-fellowheartily, and felt very pleased at meeting him thus. 

For four years Trémoulin had been one of the best and most intimateschool friends, one of those whom we are too apt to forget as soon as weleave. In those days he had been a tall, thin fellow, whose head seemedto be too heavy for his body; it was a large, round head, and hungsometimes to the right and sometimes to the left, onto his chest. Trémoulin was very clever, however, and had a marvelous aptitude forlearning, and had an instinctive intuition for all literary studies, andgained nearly all the prizes in our class. 

We were fully convinced at school, that he would turn out a celebratedman, a poet, no doubt, for he wrote verses, and was full of ingeniouslysentimental ideas. His father, who kept a chemist's shop near the_Panthéon_, was not supposed to be very well off, and I had lost sightof him as soon as he had taken his bachelor's degree, and now Inaturally asked him what he was doing there. 

"I am a planter, " he replied. 

"Bah! You really plant?"

"And I have my harvest. "

"What is it?"

"Grapes, from which I make wine. "

"Is your wine-growing a success?"

"A great success. "

"So much the better, old fellow. "

"Were you going to the hotel?"

"Of course I was. "

"Well, then, you must just come home with me, instead!"

"But! ... "

"The matter is settled. "

And he said to the young negro who was watching our movements: "Takethat home, Al. "

And the lad put my portmanteau on his shoulder, and set off, raising thedust with his black feet, while Trémoulin took my arm and led me off. First of all, he asked me about my journey, and what impressions it hadhad on me, and seeing how enthusiastic I was about it, he seemed to likeme better than ever. He lived in an old Moorish house, with an interiorcourtyard, without any windows looking into the street, and commanded bya terrace, which, in its turn, commanded those of the neighboringhouses, as well as the bay, and the forests, the hill, and the open sea, and I could not help exclaiming:

"Ah! That is what I like; the whole of the East lays hold of me in thisplace. You are indeed lucky to be living here! What nights you mustspend upon that terrace! Do you sleep there?"

"Yes, in the summer. We will go onto it this evening. Are you fond offishing?"

"What kind of fishing?"

"Fishing by torchlight. "

"Yes, I am particularly fond of it. "

"Very well, then, we will go after dinner, and we will come back anddrink sherbet on my roof. "

After I had had a bath, he took me to see the charming Kabyle town, averitable cascade of white houses toppling down to the sea, and then, when it was getting dusk, we went in, and after an excellent dinner, wewent down to the quay, and we saw nothing except the fires and thestars, those large, bright, scintillating African stars. A boat waswaiting for us, and as soon as we had got in, a man whose face I couldnot distinguish, began to row, while my friend was getting ready thebrazier which he would light later, and he said to me: "You know I havea mania for a fish-spear, and nobody can handle it better than I can. "

"Allow me to compliment you on your skill. " We had rowed round a kind ofmole, and now we were in a small bay full of high rocks, whose shadowslooked like towers built in the water, and I suddenly perceived that thesea was phosphorescent, and as the oars moved gently, they seemed tolight up moving flames, that followed in our wake, and then died out, and I leant over the side of the boat and watched it, as we glided overthat glimmer in the darkness. 

Where were we going to? I could not see my neighbors; in fact, I couldsee nothing but the luminous ripple, and the sparks of water droppingfrom the oars; it was hot, very hot, and the darkness seemed as hot as afurnace, and this mysterious motion with these two men in that silentboat, had a peculiar effect upon me. 

Suddenly the rower stopped. Where were we? I heard a slight scratchingnoise close to me, and I saw a hand, nothing but a hand applying alighted match to the iron grating which was fastened over the bows ofthe boat, which was covered with wood, as if it had been a floatingfuneral pile, and which soon was blazing brightly and illuminating theboat and the two men, an old, thin, pale, wrinkled sailor, with apocket-handkerchief tied round his head, instead of a cap, andTrémoulin, whose fair beard glistened in the light. 

The other began to row again, while Trémoulin kept throwing wood ontothe brazier, which burnt red and brightly. I leant over the side again, and could see the bottom, and a few feet below us there was that strangecountry of the water, which vivifies plants and animals, just like theair of heaven does. Trémoulin, who was standing in the bows with hisbody bent forward, and holding the sharp-pointed trident in his hand, was on the look-out with the ardent gaze of a beast of prey watching forits spoil, and, suddenly, with a swift movement, he darted his forkedweapon into the sea so vigorously that it secured a large fish swimmingnear the bottom. It was a conger eel, which managed to wriggle, halfdead as it was, into a puddle of the brackish water. 

Trémoulin again threw his spear, and when he pulled it up, I saw a greatlump of red flesh which palpitated, moved, rolled and unrolled, long, strong, soft feelers round the handle of the trident. It was an octopus, and Trémoulin opened his knife, and with a swift movement plunged itbetween the eyes, and killed it. And so our fishing continued until thewood began to run short. When there was not enough left to keep up thefire, Trémoulin dipped the braziers into the sea, and we were againburied in darkness. 

The old sailor began to row again, slowly and regularly, though I couldnot tell where the land or where the port was. By-and-bye, however, Isaw lights. We were nearing the harbor. 

"Are you sleepy?" my friend said to me. 

"Not the slightest. "

"Then we will go and have a chat on the roof. "

"I shall be delighted. "

Just as we got onto the terrace, I saw the crescent moon rising behindthe mountains, and around us, the white houses, with their flat roofs, descending down towards the sea, while human forms were standing orlying on them, sleeping or dreaming under the stars; whole familieswrapped in long gowns, and resting in the calm night, after the heat ofthe day. 

It suddenly seemed to me as if the Eastern mind were taking possessionof me, the poetical and legendary spirit of a people with simply andflowery thoughts. My head was full of the Bible and of _The ArabianNights_; I could hear the prophets proclaiming miracles, and I could seeprincesses wearing silk drawers on the roofs of the palaces, whiledelicate perfumes, whose smoke assumed the forms of genii, were burningon silver dishes, and I said to Trémoulin:

"You are very fortunate in living here. "

"I came here quite by accident, " he replied. 

"By accident?"

"Yes, accident and unhappiness brought me here. "

"You have been unhappy?"

"Very unhappy. "

He was standing in front of me, wrapped in his bournoose, and his voicehad such a painful ring in it that it almost made me shiver; after amoment's silence, he continued:

"I will tell you what my troubles have been; perhaps it will do me goodto speak about them. "

"Let me hear them. "

"Do you really wish it?"

"Yes. "

"Very well, then. You remember what I was at school; a sort of poet, brought up in a chemist's shop. I dreamt of writing books, and I triedit, after taking my degree, but I did not succeed. I published a volumeof verse, and then a novel, and neither of them sold, and then I wrote aplay, which was never acted. "

"Next, I lost my heart, but I will not give you an account of mypassion. Next door to my father's shop, there was a tailor's, who had adaughter, with whom I fell in love. She was very clever, and hadobtained her certificates for higher education, and her mind was brightand active, quite in keeping indeed with her body. She might have beentaken for fifteen, although she was two-and-twenty. She was very small, with delicate features, outlines and tints, just like some beautifulwater color. Her nose, her mouth, her blue eyes, her light hair, hersmile, her waist, her hands, all looked as if they were fit for astained window, and not for everyday life, but she was lively, supple, and incredibly active, and I was very much in love with her. I remembertwo or three walks in the Luxembourg Garden, near the _Medices_fountain, which were certainly the happiest hours of my life. I dare sayyou have known that foolish condition of tender madness, which causes usto think of nothing but of acts of adoration! One really becomespossessed, haunted by a woman, and nothing exists for us, by the side ofher. 

"We soon became engaged, and I told her my projects of the future, whichshe did not approve of. She did not believe that I was either a poet, anovelist, or a dramatic author, and thought a prosperous business couldafford perfect happiness. So I gave up the idea of writing books, andresigned myself to selling them, and I bought a bookseller's business atMarseilles, the owner of which had just died. 

"I had three very prosperous years. We had made our shop into a sort ofliterary drawing-room, where all the men of letters in the town used tocome and talk. They came in, as if it had been a club, and exchangedideas on books, on poets, and especially on politics. My wife, who tooka very active part in the business, enjoyed quite a reputation in thetown, but, as for me, while they were all talking downstairs, I wasworking in my studio upstairs, which communicated with the shop by awinding staircase. I could hear their voices, their laughter, and theirdiscussions, and sometimes I left off writing in order to listen. I keptin my own room to write a novel--which I never finished. 

"The most regular frequenters of the shop were Monsieur Montina, a manof good private means, a tall, handsome man, like one meets with in theSouth of France, with an olive skin, and dark, expressive eyes; MonsieurBarbet, a magistrate; two merchants, who were partners, Messrs. Fauciland Labarrègue, and General, the Marquis de la Flèche, the head of theRoyalist party, the principal man in the whole district, an old fellowof sixty-six. 

"My business prospered, and I was happy, very happy. One day, however, about three o'clock, when I was out on business, as I was going throughthe _Rue Saint Ferréol_, I suddenly saw a woman come out of a house, whose figure and appearance were so much like my wife's that I shouldhave said to myself: 'There she is!' if I had not left her in the shophalf an hour before, suffering from a headache. She was walking quicklyon before me, without turning round, and, in spite of myself, I followedher, as I felt surprised and uneasy. I said to myself: 'It it she; no, it is quite impossible, as she has a sick headache. And then, what couldshe have to do in that house?' However, as I wished to have the mattercleared up, I made haste after her. I do not know whether she felt orguessed that I was behind her, or whether she recognized my step, butshe turned round suddenly. It was she! When she saw me, she grew veryred and stopped, and then, with a smile, she said: 'Oh! Here you are!' Ifelt choking. 

"'Yes; so you have come out? And how is your headache?'

"'It is better, and I have been out on an errand. '

"'Where?'

"'To Lacaussade's, in the Rue Cassinelli, to order some pencils, '

"She looked me full in the face. She was not flushed now, but ratherpale, on the contrary. Her clear, limpid eyes--ah! those women'seyes!--appeared to be full of truth, but I felt vaguely and painfulythat they were full of lies. I was much more confused and embarrassedthan she was herself, without venturing to suspect, but sure that shewas lying, though I did not know why, and so I merely said:

"'You were quite right to go out, if you felt better. '

"'Oh! yes; my head is much better. '

"'Are you going home?'

"'Yes, of course I am. '

"I left her, and wandered about the streets by myself. What was goingon? While I was talking to her, I had an intuitive feeling of herfalseness, but now I could not believe that it was so, and when Ireturned home to dinner, I was angry for having suspected her, even fora moment. 

"Have you ever been jealous? It does not matter whether you have or not, but the first drop of jealousy had fallen into my heart, and that isalways like a spark of fire. It did not formulate anything, and I didnot think anything; I only knew that she had lied. You must rememberthat every night, after the customers and clerks had left, we werealone, and either strolled as far as the harbor, when it was fine, orremained talking in my office, if the weather was bad, and I used toopen my heart to her without any reserve, because I loved her. She waspart of my life, the greater part, and all my happiness, and in hersmall hands she held my trusting, faithful heart captive. 

"During those first days, those days of doubt, and before my suspicionsincreased and assumed a precise shape, I felt as depressed and chilly aswhen we are going to be seriously ill. I was continually cold, reallycold, and could neither eat nor sleep. Why had she told me a lie? Whatwas she doing in that house? I went there, to try and find outsomething, but I could discover nothing. The man who rented the firstfloor, and who was an upholsterer, had told me all about his neighbors, but without helping me the least. A midwife had lived on the secondfloor, a dressmaker and a manicure and chiropodist on the third, and twocoachmen and their families in the attics. 

"Why had she told me a lie? It would have been so easy for her to havesaid that she had been to the dressmaker's or the chiropodist's. Oh! HowI longed to question them, also! I did not say so, for fear that shemight guess my suspicions. One thing, however, was certain; she had beeninto that house, and had concealed the fact from me, so there was somemystery in it. But what? At one moment, I thought there might be somelaudable purpose in it, some charitable deed that she wished to hide, some information which she wished to obtain, and I found fault withmyself for suspecting her. Have not all of us the right of our little, innocent secrets, a kind of second, interior life, for which one oughtnot to be responsible to anybody? Can a man, because he has taken a girlto be his companion through life, demand that she shall neither thinknor do anything without telling him, either before or afterwards? Doesthe word marriage mean renouncing all liberty and independence? Was itnot quite possible that she was going to the dressmaker's withouttelling me, or that she was going to assist the family of one of thecoachmen? Or she might have thought that I might criticize, if notblame, her visit to the house. She knew me thoroughly, and my slightestpeculiarities, and perhaps she feared a discussion, even if she did notthink that I should find fault with her. She had very pretty hands, andI ended by supposing that she was having them secretly attended to bythe manicure in the house which I suspected, and that she did not tellme of it, for fear that I should think her extravagant. She was verymethodical and economical, +and looked after all her household dutiesmost carefully, and no doubt she thought that she should lower herselfin my eyes, were she to confess that slight piece of feminineextravagance. Women have very many subtleties and innate tricks in theirsoul!

"But none of my own arguments reassured me. I was jealous, and I feltthat my suspicion was affecting me terribly, that I was being devouredby it. I felt secret grief and anguish, and a thought which I stillveiled, and I did not dare to lift the veil, for beneath it I shouldfind a terrible doubt.... A lover! ... Had not she a lover? ... It wasunlikely, impossible.... A mere dream ... And yet? ... 

"I continually saw Montina's face before my eyes. I saw the tall, silly-looking, handsome man, with his bright hair, smiling into herface, and I said to myself: 'He is the one!' I concocted a story oftheir intrigues. They had talked a book over together, had discussed thelove ventures it contained, had found something in it that resembledthem, and they had turned that analogy into reality. And so I watchedthem, a prey to the most terrible sufferings that a man can endure. Ibought shoes with india-rubber soles, so that I might be able to walkabout the house without making any noise, and I spent half my time ingoing up and down my little spiral staircase, in the hope of surprisingthem, but I always found that the clerk was with them. 

"I lived in a constant state of suffering. I could no longer work, norattend to my business. As soon as I went out, as soon as I had walked ahundred yards along the street, I said to myself: 'He is there!' andwhen I found he was not there, I went out again! But almost immediatelyI went back again, thinking: 'He has come now!' and that went on everyday. 

"At night it was still worse, for I felt her by my side in bed asleep, or pretending to be asleep! Was she really sleeping? No, most likelynot. Was that another lie?

"I remained motionless on my back, hot from the warmth of her body, panting and tormented. Oh! how intensely I longed to get up, to get ahammer and to split her head open, so as to be able to see inside it! Iknew that I should have seen nothing except what is to be found in everyhead, and I should have discovered nothing, for that would have beenimpossible. And her eyes! When she looked at me, I felt furious withrage. I looked at her ... She looked at me! Her eyes were transparent, candid ... And false, false! Nobody could tell what she was thinking of, and I felt inclined to run pins into them, and to destroy those mirrorsof falseness. 

"Ah! how well I could understand the Inquisition! I would have appliedthe torture, the boot.... Speak!... Confess!... You will not? ... Thenwait!... And I would have seized her by the throat until I choked her.... Or else I would have held her fingers into the fire. ... Oh! how I shouldhave enjoyed doing it! ... Speak!... Speak!... You will not? I would haveheld them on the coals, and when the tips were burnt, she would haveconfessed... Certainly she would have confessed!"

Trémoulin was sitting up, shouting, with clenched fists. Around us, onthe neighboring roofs, people awoke and sat up, as he was disturbingtheir sleep. As for me, I was moved and powerfully interested, and inthe darkness I could see that little woman, that little, fair, lively, artful woman, as if I had known her personally. I saw her selling herbooks, talking with the men whom her childish ways attracted, and in herdelicate, doll-like head, I could see little crafty ideas, silly ideas, the dreams which a milliner smelling of musk attached to all heroes ofromantic adventures. I suspected her just like he did, I hated anddetested her, and would willingly have burnt her fingers and made herconfess. 

Presently, he continued more calmly: "I do not know why I have told youall this, for I have never mentioned it to anyone, but then, I have notseen anybody or spoken to anybody for two years! And it was seething inmy heart like a fermenting wine. I have got rid of it, and so much theworse for you. Well, I had made a mistake, but it was worse than Ithought, much worse. Just listen. I employed the means which a manalways does under such circumstances, and pretended that I was going tobe away from home for a day, and whenever I did this my wife went out tolunch. I need not tell you how I bribed a waiter in the restaurant towhich they used to go, so that I might surprise them. 

"He was to open the door of their private room for me and I arrived atthe appointed time, with the fixed determination of killing them both. Icould see the whole scene, just as if it had already occurred! I couldsee myself going in. A small table covered with glasses, bottles andplates separated her from Montina, and they would be so surprised whenthey saw me, that they would not even attempt to move, and without aword, I should bring down the loaded stick which I had in my hand, onthe man's head. Killed by one blow, he would fall with his head on thetable, and then, turning towards her, I should leave her time--a fewmoments--to understand it all and to stretch out her arms towards me, mad with terror, before dying in her turn. Oh! I was ready, strong, determined, and pleased, madly pleased at the idea. The idea of theterrified look that she would throw at my raised stick, of her arms thatshe would stretch out to me, of her horrified cry, of her livid andconvulsed looks, avenged me beforehand. I would not kill her at oneblow! You will think me cruel, I dare say; but you do not know what aman suffers. To think that a woman, whether she be wife or mistress, whom one loves, gives herself to another, yields herself up to him asshe does to you, and receives kisses from his lips, as she does fromyours! It is a terrible, an atrocious thing to think of. When one feelsthat torture, one is ready for anything. I only wonder that more womenare not murdered, for every man who has been deceived longs to commitmurder, has dreamt of it in the solitude of his own room, or on adeserted road, and has been haunted by the one fixed idea of satisfiedvengeance. 

"I arrived at the restaurant, and asked whether they were there. Thewaiter whom I had bribed replied: 'Yes, Monsieur, ' and taking meupstairs, he pointed to a door, and said: 'That is the room!' So Igrasped my stick, as if my fingers had been made of iron, and went in. Ihad chosen a most appropriate moment, for they were kissing mostlovingly, but it was not Montina; it was General de la Fléche, who wassixty-six years old, and I had so fully made up my mind that I shouldfind the other one there, I was motionless from astonishment. 

"And then ... And then, I really do not quite know what I thought; no, Ireally do not know. If I had found myself face to face with the other, Ishould have been convulsed with rage, but on seeing this old man, with afat stomach and pendulous cheeks, I was nearly choked with disgust. She, who did not look fifteen, small and slim as she was, had given herselfto this fat man, who was nearly paralyzed, because he was a marquis anda general, the friend and representative of dethroned kings. No, I donot know what I felt, nor what I thought. I could not have lifted myhand against this old man; it would have been a disgrace to me, and I nolonger felt inclined to kill my wife, but all women who could be guiltyof such things! I was no longer jealous, but felt distracted, as if Ihad seen the horror of horrors!

"Let people say what they like of men, they are not so vile as that! If aman is known to have given himself up to an old woman in that fashion, people point their fingers at him. The husband or lover of an old womanis more despised than a thief. We men are a decent lot, as a rule, butmany women, especially in Paris, are absolutely bad. They will givethemselves to all men, old or young, from the most contemptible anddifferent motives, because it is their profession, their vocation, andtheir function. They are the eternal, unconscious, and sereneprostitutes, who give up their bodies, because they are the merchandiseof love, which they sell or give, to the old man who frequents thepavements with money in his pocket, or else for glory, to a lecherousold king, or to a celebrated and disgusting old man. "

He vociferated like a prophet of old, in a furious voice, under thestarry sky, and with the rage of a man in despair, he repeated all theglorified disgrace of all the mistresses of old kings, the respectableshame of all those virgins who marry old husbands, the tolerateddisgrace of all those young women who accept old kisses with a smile. 

I could see them, as he evoked their memory, since the beginning of theworld, surging round us in that Eastern night, girls, beautiful girls, with vile souls, who, like the lower animals, who know nothing of theage of the male, are docile to senile desires. They rose up before one, the handmaids of the patriarchs, who are mentioned in the Bible, Hagar, Ruth, the daughters of Lot, Abigail, Abishag, the virgin of Shunam, whoreanimated David with her caresses when he was dying, and the others, young, stout, white, patricians or plebeians, irresponsible femalesbelonging to a master, and submissive slaves, whether caught by theattraction of royalty, or bought as slaves!

"What did you do?" I asked. 

"I went away, " he replied simply. And we remained sitting side by sidefor a long time without speaking, only dreaming! ... 

I have retained an impression of that evening that I can never forget. All that I saw, felt, and heard, our fishing excursion, the octopusalso, perhaps that harrowing story, amidst those white figures on theneighboring roofs, all seemed to concur in producing a unique sensation. Certain meetings, certain inexplicable combinations of things, decidedlycontain a larger quantity of the secret quintessence of life, than thatwhich is spread over the ordinary events of our days, without anythingexceptional happening to them. 

THE HERMAPHRODITE

"Upon my word, I laughed at it as much as the rest, " Navaretteexclaimed; "I laughed at it with that profound, cruel pitilessness whichwe all of us, who are well made and vigorous, feel for those whom theirstep-mother, Nature, has disfigured in some way or other, for thoselaughable, feeble creatures who are, however, more to be pitied thanthose poor deformed wretches from whom we turn away in spite ofourselves. 

"I had been the first to make fun of him at the club, to find those easywords which are remembered, and to turn that smooth, flabby, pink, uglyface, like that of an old woman, and of a Levantine eunuch in which themouth is like a piece of inert flesh, and where the small eyes glistenwith concentrated cunning, and remind us of the watchful, angry eyes ofa gorilla, at the same time, into ridicule. I knew that he was selfish, without any affection, unreliable, full of whims, turning like aweathercock with every wind that blows, and caring for nothing in theworld except gambling and old Dresden china. 

"However, our intercourse was invariably limited to a careless, 'Goodmorning, ' and to the usual shake of the hands which men exchange whenthey meet at the theater or the club, and so I had neither to defendhim, nor to uphold him as a friend. But I can swear to you that now Ireproach myself for all these effusive jeers and bitter things, and theyweigh on my conscience now that I have been told the other side, theequivocal enigma of that existence. "

"A Punch and Judy secret, " Bob Shelley said, throwing the end of hiscigar into the fire. 

"Oh! yes; we were a hundred miles from the truth when we merely supposedthat he was unfit for service. This unhappy Lantosque, a well-born, clever man, and very rich to boot, might have exhibited himself in sometraveling booth, for he was an hermaphrodite; do you understand? anhermaphrodite. And his whole life was one of long, incessant torture, ofphysical and moral suffering, which was more maddening than that whichTantalus endured on the banks of the river Acheron. He had nearlyeverything of the woman about him; he was a ridiculous caricature of oursex, with his shrill voice, his large hips, his bust concealed by aloose, wide coat, his cheeks, his chin, and upper lip without a vestigeof hair, and he had to appear like a man, to restrain and stifle hisinstincts, his tastes, desires, and dreams, to fight ceaselessly againsthimself, and never to allow anything of that which he endured, nor whathe longed for, nor that which was sapping his very life, to bediscovered. 

"Once only he was on the point of betraying himself, in spite ofhimself. He ardently loved a man, as Chloe must have loved Daphnis. Hecould not master himself, or calm his feverish passion, and went towardsthe abyss as if seized by mental giddiness. He could imagine nothinghandsomer, more desirable, or more charming than that chance friend. Hehad sudden transports, fits of surprise, tenderness, curiosity, jealousy, the ardent longings of an old maid who is afraid of dying avirgin, who is waiting for love as for her deliverance, who attachesherself and devotes herself to a lover with her whole being, and whogrows emaciated and dries up, and remains misunderstood and despised. 

"And as they have both disappeared now, the lover dead from a swordthrust in the middle of the chest, at Milan, on account of some balletgirl, and as he certainly died without knowing that he had inspired sucha passion, I may tell you his name. 

"He was Count Sebinico, who used to deal at faro with such delicate, white hands, and who wore rings on nearly every finger, who had such amusical voice, and who, with his wavy hair, and his delicate profile, looked like a handsome, Florentine Condottiere. 

"It must be very terrible to be thus ashamed of oneself, to have thatlonging for kisses which console the most wretched in their misery, which satisfy hunger and thirst, and assuage pain; that illusion ofdelicious, intoxicating kisses, the delight and the balm of which such aperson can never know; the horror of that dishonor of being pointed at, made fun of, driven away like unclean creatures that prostitute theirsex, and make love vile by unmentionable rites; oh! the constantbitterness of seeing that the person we love makes fun of us, ill-usesus, and does not show us even the slightest friendship!"

"Poor devil!" Jean d'Orthyse said, in a sad and moved voice. "In hisplace, I should have blown my brains out. "

"Everybody says that, my dear fellow, but how few there are who ventureto forestall that intruder, who always come too quickly. "

"Lantosque had splendid health, and declared that he had never put apenny into a doctor's pocket, and if he had allowed himself to have beenlooked after when he was confined to his bed two months before, by anattack of influenza, we should still be hearing him propose a game ofpoker before dinner, in his shrill voice. His death, however, was astragic and mysterious as all those tales from beyond the grave are, onwhich the Invisible rests. "

"Although he had a cough, which threatened to tear his chest to pieces, and although he was haunted by the fear of death, of that great depth ofdarkness in which we lose ourselves in the abyss of Annihilation andOblivion, he obstinately refused to have his chest sounded, and repulsedDoctor Pertuzés almost furiously, who thought he had gone out of hismind. "

"He cowered down, and covered himself with the bed-clothes up to hischin, and found strength enough to tear up the prescriptions, and todrive everyone, whether friend or relation, who tried to make him listento reason, and who could not understand his attacks of rage and neurosisfrom his bedside. He seemed to be possessed by some demon, like thosewomen in hysterical convulsions, whom the bishops used formerly toexorcise writh much pomp. It was painful to see him. "

"That went on for a week, during which time the pneumonia had ampleopportunities for ravaging and giving the finishing stroke to his body, which had been so robust and free from ailments hitherto, and he died, trying to utter some last words which nobody understood, and endeavoringto point out one particular article of furniture in the room. "

"His nearest relation was a cousin, the Marquis de Territet, a skeptic, who lived in Burgundy, and whom all this disturbance had upset in hishabits, and whose only desire was to get it all over, the legalformalities, the funeral, and all the rest of it, as soon as possible. 

"Without reflecting on the strange suggestiveness of that death-bed, andwithout looking to see whether there might not be, somehow or other, awill in which Lantosque expressed his last wishes, he wanted to sparehis corpse the contact of mercenary hands, and to lay him out himself. 

"You may judge of his surprise when, on throwing back the bed-clothes, he first of all saw that Lantosque was dressed from head to foot intights, which accentuated, rather than otherwise, his female form. 

"Much alarmed, feeling that he must have been violating some supremeorder, and comprehending it all, he went to his cousin's writing-table, opened it, and successively searched every drawer, and soon found anenvelope fastened with five seals, and addressed to him. He broke themand read as follows, written on a sheet of black-edged paper:

"'This is my only will. I leave all that I possess to my cousin, Rolandde Territet, on condition that he will undertake my funeral; that in hisown presence, he will have me wrapped up in the sheets of the bed onwhich I die, and have me put into the coffin so, without any furtherpreparations. I wish to be cremated at _Père-Lachaise_, and not to besubjected to any examination, or _post-mortem_, whatever may happen. '"

"And how came the marquis to betray the secret?" Bob Shelley asked. 

"The marquis is married to a charming Parisian woman, and was anymarried man, who loved his wife, ever known to keep a secret from her?"

MARROCA

You ask me, my dear friend, to send you my impressions of Africa, myadventures, and especially an account of my love affairs in this countrywhich has attracted me for so long. You laughed a great deal beforehandat my dusky sweethearts, as you called them, and declared that you couldsee me returning to France, followed by a tall, ebony-colored woman, with a yellow silk handkerchief round her head, and wearing voluminousbright-colored trousers. 

No doubt the Moorish women will have their turn, for I have seen severalof them who have made me feel very much inclined to have to fall in lovewith them; but by way of making a beginning, I came across somethingbetter, and very original. 

In your last letter to me, you say: "When I know how people love in acountry, I know that country well enough to describe it, although I maynever have seen it. " Let me tell you, then, that here they lovefuriously. From the very first moment, one feels a sort of tremblingardor, of constant desire, to the very tips of the fingers, whichover-excites our amorous powers, and all our faculties of physicalsensation, from the simple contact of the hands, down to that unnamablerequirement which makes us commit so many follies. 

Do not misunderstand me. I do not know whether you call love of theheart, love of the soul, whether sentimental idealism, Platonic love, ina word, can exist on this earth; I doubt it, myself. But that otherlove, sensual love, which has something good, a great deal of good aboutit, is really terrible in this climate. The heat, the burning atmospherewhich makes you feverish, those suffocating blasts of wind from thesouth, those waves of fire which come from the desert which is so nearus, that oppressive sirocco, which is more destructive and witheringthan fire, that perpetual conflagration of an entire continent, that isburnt even to its stones by a fierce and devouring sun, inflame theblood, excite the flesh, and make brutes of us. 

But to come to my story, I shall not tell you about the beginning of mystay in Africa. After going to Bona, Constantine, Biskara and Setif, Iwent to Bougie through the defiles of Chabet, by an excellent roadthrough a large forest, which follows the sea at a height of six hundredfeet above it, as far as that wonderful bay of Bougie, which is asbeautiful as that of Naples, of Ajaccio, or of Douarnenez, which are themost lovely that I know. 

Far away in the distance, before one goes round the large inlet wherethe water is perfectly calm, one sees the Bougie. It is built on thesteep sides of a high hill, which is covered with trees, and forms awhite spot on that green slope; it might almost be taken for the foam ofa cascade, falling into the sea. 

I had no sooner set foot in that delightful, small town, than I knewthat I should stay for a long time. In all directions the eye rests onrugged, strangely shaped hill-tops, which are so close together that onecan hardly see the open sea, so that the gulf looks like a lake. Theblue water is wonderfully transparent, and the azure sky, a deep azure, as if it had received two coats of paint, expands its wonderful beautyabove it. They seem to be looking at themselves in a glass, and to be areflection of each other. 

Bougie is a town of ruins, and on the quay, when one arrives, one seessuch a magnificent ruin, that one might imagine one was at the opera. Itis the old Saracen Gate, overgrown with ivy, and there are ruins in alldirections on the hills round the town, fragments of Roman walls, bitsof Saracen monuments, the remains of Arabic buildings. 

I had taken a small, Moorish house, in the upper town. You know thosedwellings, which have been described so often. They have no windows onthe outside; but they are lighted from top to bottom, by an inner court. On the first floor, they have a large, cool room, in which one spendsthe days, and a terrace on the roof, on which one spends the nights. 

I at once fell in with the custom of all hot countries, that is to say, of having a siesta after lunch. That is the hottest time in Africa, thetime when one can scarcely breathe; when the streets, the fields, andthe long, dazzling, white roads are deserted, when everyone is asleep, or at any rate, trying to sleep, attired as scantily as possible. 

In my drawing-room, which had columns of Arabic architecture, I hadplaced a large, soft couch, covered with a carpet from Djebel Amour, very nearly in the costume of Assan, but I could not sleep, as I wastortured by my continence. There are two forms of torture on this earth, which I hope you will never know: the want of water, and the want ofwomen, and I do not know which is the worst. In the desert, men wouldcommit any infamy for the sake of a glass of clean, cold water, and whatwould one not do in some of the towns of the littoral, for a handsome, fleshy, healthy girl? For there is no lack of girls in Africa; on thecontrary, they abound, but to continue my comparison, they are asunwholesome and decayed as the muddy water in the wells of Sahara. 

Well, one day when I was feeling more enervated than usual, I was tryingin vain to close my eyes. My legs twitched as if they were beingpricked, and I tossed about uneasily on my couch, until at last, unableto bear it any longer, I got up and went out. It was a terribly hot day, in the middle of July, and the pavement was hot enough to bake bread on. My shirt, which was soaked with perspiration immediately, clung to mybody, and on the horizon there was a slight, white vapor, which seemedto be palpable heat. 

I went down to the sea, and going round the port, I went along the shoreof the pretty bay where the baths are. There was nobody about, andnothing was stirring; not a sound of bird or of beast was to be heard, the very waves did not lap, and the sea appeared to be asleep in thesun. 

Suddenly, behind one of the rocks, which were half covered by the silentwater, I heard a slight movement, and on turning round, I saw a tall, naked girl, sitting up to her breasts in the water, taking a bath; nodoubt she reckoned on being alone, at that hot period of the day. Herhead was turned towards the sea, and she was moving gently up and down, without seeing me. 

Nothing could be more surprising than that picture of the beautifulwoman in the water, which was as clear as crystal, under a blaze oflight. For she was a marvelously beautiful woman, tall, and modeled likea statue. She turned round, uttered a cry, and half swimming, halfwalking, she went and hid altogether behind her rock; but as she mustnecessarily come out, I sat down on the beach and waited. Presently, shejust showed her head, which was covered with thick black plaits. She hada rather large mouth, with full lips, large, bold eyes, and her skin, which was rather tanned by the climate, looked like a piece of old, hard, polished ivory. 

She called out to me: "Go away!" and her full voice, which correspondedto her strong build, had a guttural accent, and as I did not move, sheadded: "It is not right of you to stop there, monsieur. " I did not move, however, and her head disappeared. Ten minutes passed, and then herhair, then her forehead, and then her eyes reappeared, but slowly andprudently, as if she were playing at hide-and-seek, and were looking tosee who was near. This time she was furious, and called out: "You willmake me get some illness, and I shall not come out as long as you arethere. " Thereupon, I got up and went away, but not without looking roundseveral times. When she thought I was far enough off, she came out ofthe water; bending down and turning her back to me, she disappeared in acavity in the rock, behind a petticoat that was hanging up in front ofit. 

I went back the next day. She was bathing again, but she had a bathingcostume, and she began to laugh, and showed her white teeth. A weeklater we were friends, and in another week we were eager lovers. Hername was Marroca, and she pronounced it as if there were a dozen _r's_in it. She was the daughter of Spanish colonists, and had married aFrenchman, whose name was Pontabeze. He was in government employ, thoughI never exactly knew what his functions were. I found out that he wasalways very busy, and I did not care for anything else. 

She then altered her time for having her bath, and came to my houseevery day, to have a siesta there. What a siesta! It could scarcely becalled reposing! She was a splendid girl, of a somewhat animal, butsuperb type. Her eyes were always glowing with passion; her half-openmouth, her sharp teeth, and even her smiles, had something ferociouslyloving about them; and her curious, long and straight breasts, whichwere as pointed as if they had been pears of flesh, and as elastic as ifthey contained steel springs, gave her whole body something of theanimal, made her a sort of inferior and magnificent being, a creaturewho was destined for unbridled love, and which roused in me the idea ofthose ancient deities, who gave expression to their tenderness on thegrass and under the trees. 

And then, her mind was as simple as two and two are four, and a sonorouslaugh served her instead of thought. 

Instinctively proud of her beauty, she hated the slightest covering, andran and frisked about my house with daring and unconscious immodesty. When she was at last overcome and worn out by her cries and movements, she used to sleep soundly and peacefully while the overwhelming heatbrought out minute spots of perspiration on her brown skin, and fromunder her arms. 

Sometimes she returned in the evening, when her husband was on dutysomewhere, and we used to lie on the terrace, scarcely covered by somefine, gauzy, Oriental fabric. When the full moon lit up the town and thegulf, with its surrounding frame of hills, we saw on all the otherterraces what looked like an army of silent phantoms lying, who wouldoccasionally get up, change their places, and lie down again, in thelanguorous warmths of the starry sky. 

But in spite of the brightness of African nights, Marroca would insiston stripping herself almost naked in the clear rays of the moon; she didnot trouble herself much about anybody who might see us, and often, inspite of my fears and entreaties, she uttered long, resounding cries, which made the dogs in the distance howl. 

One night, when I was sleeping under the starry sky, she came and kneltdown on my carpet, and putting her lips, which curled slightly, close tomy face, she said: "You must come and stay at my house. " I did notunderstand her, and asked: "What do you mean?" "Yes, when my husband hasgone away; you must come and be with me. "

I could not help laughing, and said: "Why, as you come here?" And shewent on almost talking into my mouth, sending her hot breath into mythroat, and moistening my moustache with her lips: "I want it as aremembrance. " Still I did not grasp her meaning; she put her arms roundmy neck. "When you are no longer here, I shall think of it. "

I was touched and amused at the same time, and said: "You must be mad. Iwould much rather stop here. "

As a matter of fact, I have no liking for assignations under theconjugal roof; they are mouse-traps, in which the unwary are alwayscaught. But she begged and prayed, and even cried, and at last said:"You shall see how I will love you there. " Her wish seemed so strangethat I could not explain it to myself; but on thinking it over, Ithought I could discern a profound hatred for her husband, the secretvengeance of a woman who takes a pleasure in deceiving him, and who, moreover, wishes to deceive him in his own house. 

"Is your husband very unkind to you?" I asked her. She looked vexed, andsaid: "Oh! No, he is very kind. " "But you are not fond of him?" Shelooked at me with astonishment in her large eyes. "Indeed, I am veryfond of him, very; but not so fond as I am of you. "

I could not understand it all, and while I was trying to get at hermeaning, she pressed one of those kisses, whose power she knew so well, onto my lips, and whispered: "But you will come, will you not?" Iresisted, however, and so she got up immediately, and went away; nor didshe come back for a week. On the eighth day she came back, stoppedgravely at the door of my room, and said: "Are you coming to my houseto-night? ... If you refuse, I shall go away. " Eight days is a very longtime, my friend, and in Africa those eight days are as good as a month. "Yes, " I said, and opened my arms, and she threw herself into them. 

At night she waited for me in a neighboring street, and took me to theirhouse, which was very small, and near the harbor. I first of all wentthrough the kitchen, where they had their meals, and then into a verytidy, whitewashed room, with photographs on the walls, and paper flowersunder a glass case. Marroca seemed beside herself with pleasure, and shejumped about, and said: "There, you are at home, now. " And I certainlyacted as though I had been, though I felt rather embarrassed andsomewhat uneasy. 

Suddenly a loud knocking at the door made us start, and a man's voicecalled out: "Marroca, it is I. " She started: "My husband! ... Here, hideunder the bed, quickly. " I was distractedly looking for my overcoat, butshe gave me a push, and panted out: "Come along, come along. "

I lay down flat on my stomach, and crept under the bed without a word, while she went into the kitchen. I heard her open a cupboard, and thenshut it again, and she came back into the room, carrying some objectwhich I could not see, but which she quickly put down; and as herhusband was getting impatient, she said, calmly: "I cannot find thematches. " Then suddenly she added: "Oh! Here they are; I will come andlet you in. "

The man came in, and I could see nothing of him but his feet, which wereenormous. If the rest of him was in proportion, he must have been agiant. 

I heard kisses, a little pat on her naked flesh, and a laugh, and hesaid, in a strong Marseilles accent: "I forgot my purse, so I wasobliged to come back; you were sound asleep, I suppose. " He went to thecupboard, and was a long time in finding what he wanted; and as Maroccahad thrown herself onto a bed, as if she were tired out, he went up toher, and no doubt tried to caress her, for she flung a volley of angry_r's_ at him. His feet were so close to me that I felt a stupid, inexplicable longing to catch hold of them, but I restrained myself, andwhen he saw that he could not succeed in his wish, he got angry, andsaid: "You are not at all nice, to-night. Good-bye. " I heard anotherkiss, then the big feet turned, and I saw the nails in the soles of hisshoes as he went into the next room, the front door was shut, and I wassaved!

I came slowly out of my retreat, feeling rather humiliated, and whileMarroca danced a jig round me, shouting with laughter, and clapping herhands, I threw myself heavily into a chair. But I jumped up with abound, for I had sat down on something cold, and as I was no moredressed than my accomplice was, the contact made me start, and I lookedround. I had sat down on a small axe, used for cutting wood, and assharp as a knife. How had it got there? ... I had certainly not seen itwhen I went in; but Marroca seeing me jump up, nearly choked withlaughter, and coughed with both hands on her stomach. 

I thought her amusement rather out of place; we had risked our livesstupidly, and I still felt a cold shiver down my back, and I was ratherhurt at her foolish laughter. "Supposing your husband had seen me?" Isaid. "There was no danger of that, " she replied. "What do you mean? ... No danger? That is a good joke! ... If he had stooped down, he must haveseen me. "

She did not laugh any more; she only looked at me with her large eyes, which were bright with merriment. "He would not have stooped. " "Why?" Ipersisted. "Just suppose that he had let his hat fall, he would havebeen sure to pick it up, and then... I was well prepared to defendmyself, in this costume!" She put her two strong, round arms about myneck, and, lowering her voice, as she did when she said: "I _adorre_you, " she whispered: "Then he would _never_ have got up again. " I didnot understand her, and said: "What do you mean?"

She gave me a cunning wink, and put out her hand to the chair on which Ihad sat down, and her outstretched hands, her smile, her half-open lips, her white, sharp, and ferocious teeth, all drew my attention to thelittle axe which was used for cutting wood, whose sharp blade wasglistening in the candle-light, and while she put out her hand as if shewere going to take it, she put her left arm round me, and drawing me toher, and putting her lips against mine, with her right arm she made amotion as if she were cutting off the head of a kneeling man!

This, my friend, is the manner in which people here understand conjugalduties, love, and hospitality!

AN ARTIFICE

The old doctor and his young patient were talking by the side of thefire. There was nothing the matter with her, except that she had one ofthose little feminine ailments from which pretty women frequentlysuffer; slight anaemia, nervous attack, and a suspicion of fatigue, ofthat fatigue from which newly married people often suffer at the end ofthe first month of their married life, when they have made a love match. 

She was lying on the couch and talking. "No, doctor, " she said; "I shallnever be able to understand a woman deceiving her husband. Even allowingthat she does not love him, that she pays no heed to her vows andpromises, how can she give herself to another man? How can she concealthe intrigue from other people's eyes? How can it be possible to loveamidst lies and treason?"

The doctor smiled, and replied: "It is perfectly easy, and I can assureyou that a woman does not think of all those little subtle details, whenshe has made up her mind to go astray. I even feel certain that no womanis ripe for true love until she has passed through all thepromiscuousness and all the loathsomeness of married life, which, according to an illustrious man, is nothing but an exchange ofill-tempered words by day, and disagreeable odors at night. Nothing ismore true, for no woman can love passionately until after she hasmarried. 

"As for dissimulation, all women have plenty of it on hand on suchoccasions, and the simplest of them are wonderful, and extricatethemselves from the greatest dilemmas in an extraordinary way. "

The young woman, however, seemed incredulous. ... "No, doctor, " shesaid, "one never thinks until after it has happened, of what one oughtto have done in a dangerous affair, and women are certainly more liablethan men to lose their heads on such occasions. " The doctor raised hishands. "After it has happened, you say! Now, I will tell you somethingthat happened to one of my female patients, whom I always considered asan immaculate woman. 

"It happened in a provincial town, and one night when I was sleepingprofoundly, in that deep, first sleep from which it is so difficult toarouse us, it seemed to me, in my dreams, as if the bells in the townwere sounding a fire alarm, and I woke up with a start. It was my ownbell, which was ringing wildly, and as my footman did not seem to beanswering the door, I, in turn, pulled the bell at the head of my bed, and soon I heard banging, and steps in the silent house, and then Jeancame into my room, and handed me a letter which said: 'Madame Lelièvrebegs Doctor Simeon to come to her immediately. '

"I thought for a few moments, and then I said to myself: 'A nervousattack, vapors, nonsense; I am too tired. ' And so I replied: 'As DoctorSimeon is not at all well, he must beg Madame Lelièvre to be kind enoughto call in his colleague, Monsieur Bonnet. ' I put the note into anenvelope, and went to sleep again, but about half an hour later thestreet bell rang again, and Jean came to me and said: 'There is somebodydownstairs; I do not quite know whether it is a man or a woman, as theindividual is so wrapped up, who wishes to speak to you immediately. Hesays it is a matter of life and death for two people. Whereupon, I satup in bed and told him to show the person in. 

"A kind of black phantom appeared, who raised her veil as soon as Jeanhad left the room. It was Madame Berthe Lelièvre, quite a young woman, who had been married for three years to a large shop-keeper in the town, who was said to have married the prettiest girl in the neighborhood. 

"She was terribly pale, her face was contracted like the faces of madpeople are, occasionally, and her hands trembled violently. Twice shetried to speak, without being able to utter a sound, but at last shestammered out: 'Come... Quick... Quick, Doctor... Come... My... My loverhas just died in my bedroom. ' She stopped, half suffocated with emotion, and then went on: 'My husband will... Be coming home from the club verysoon. '

"I jumped out of bed, without even considering that I was only in mynight-shirt, and dressed myself in a few moments, and then I said: 'Didyou come a short time ago?' 'No, ' she said, standing like a statuepetrified with horror. 'It was my servant... She knows. ' And then, aftera short silence, she went on: 'I was there... By his side. ' And sheuttered a sort of cry of horror, and after a fit of choking, which madeher gasp, she wept violently, and shook with spasmodic sobs for a minuteor two. Then her tears suddenly ceased, as if by an internal fire, andwith an air of tragic calmness, she said: 'Let us make haste. '

"I was ready, but I exclaimed: 'I quite forgot to order my carriage. ' 'Ihave one, ' she said; 'it is his, which was waiting for him!' She wrappedherself up, so as to completely conceal her face, and we started. "

"When she was by my side in the darkness of the carriage, she suddenlyseized my hand, and crushing it in her delicate fingers, she said, witha shaking voice, that proceeded from a distracted heart: 'Oh! If youonly knew, if you only knew what I am suffering! I loved him, I haveloved him distractedly, like a mad woman, for the last six months. ' 'Isanyone up in your house?' I asked. 'No, nobody except Rose, who knowseverything. '

"We stopped at the door, and evidently everybody was asleep, and we wentin without making any noise, by means of her latch-key, and walkedupstairs on tip-toe. The frightened servant was sitting on the top ofthe stairs, with a lighted candle by her side, as she was afraid to stopby the dead man, and I went into the room, which was turned upside down, as if there had been a struggle in it. The bed, which was tumbled andopen, seemed to be waiting for somebody; one of the sheets was hangingonto the floor, and wet napkins, with which they had bathed the youngman's temples, were lying on the floor, by the side of a wash-hand basinand a glass, while a strong smell of vinegar pervaded the room. "

"The dead man's body was lying at full length in the middle of the room, and I went up to it, looked at it, and touched it. I opened the eyes, and felt the hands, and then, turning to the two women, who were shakingas if they were frozen, I said to them: 'Help me to carry him onto thebed. ' When we had laid him gently onto it, I listened to his heart, andput a looking-glass to his lips, and then said: 'It is all over; let usmake haste and dress him. ' It was a terrible sight!

"I took his limbs one by one, as if they had belonged to some enormousdoll, and held them out to the clothes which the women brought, and theyput on his socks, drawers, trousers, waistcoat, and lastly the coat, butit was a difficult matter to get the arms into the sleeves. 

"When it came to buttoning his boots, the two women knelt down, while Iheld the light, but as his feet were rather swollen, it was verydifficult, and as they could not find a button-hook, they had to usetheir hairpins. When the terrible toilet was over, I looked at our work, and said: 'You ought to arrange his hair a little. ' The girl went andbrought her mistress's large-toothed comb and brush, but as she wastrembling, and pulling out his long, matted hair in doing it, MadameLelièvre took the comb out of her hand, and arranged his hair as if shewere caressing him. She parted it, brushed his beard, rolled hismoustachios gently round her fingers, as she had no doubt been in thehabit of doing, in the familiarities of their intrigue. 

"Suddenly, however, letting go of his hair, she took her dead lover'sinert head in her hands, and looked for a long time in despair at thedead face, which no longer could smile at her, and then, throwingherself onto him, she took him into her arms and kissed him ardently. Her kisses fell like blows onto his closed mouth and eyes, onto hisforehead and temples, and then, putting her lips to his ear, as if hecould still hear her, and as if she were about to whisper something tohim, to make their embraces still more ardent, she said several times, in a heartrending voice: 'Adieu, my darling!'

"Just then the clock struck twelve, and I started up. 'Twelve o'clock!'I exclaimed. 'That is the time when the club closes. Come, Madame, wehave not a moment to lose!' She started up, and I said: 'We must carryhim into the drawing-room. ' And when we had done this, I placed him on asofa, and lit the chandeliers, and just then the front door was openedand shut noisily. He had come back, and I said: Rose, bring me the basinand the towels, and make the room look tidy. Make haste, for heaven'ssake! Monsieur Lelièvre is coming in. '

"I heard his steps on the stairs, and then his hands feeling along thewalls. 'Come here, my dear fellow, ' I said, 'we have had an accident. '

"And the astonished husband appeared in the door with a cigar in hismouth, and said: 'What is the matter? What is the meaning of this?' 'Mydear friend, ' I said, going up to him; 'you find us in greatembarrassment. I had remained late, chatting with your wife and ourfriend, who had brought me in his carriage, when he suddenly fainted, and in spite of all we have done, he has remained unconscious for twohours. I did not like to call in strangers, and if you will now help medownstairs with him, I shall be able to attend to him better at his ownhouse. '

"The husband, who was surprised, but quite unsuspicious, took off hishat, and then he took his rival, who would be quite inoffensive for thefuture, under his arms. I got between his two legs, as if I had been ahorse between the shafts, and we went downstairs, while his wife lightedus. When we got outside, I held the body up, so as to deceive thecoachman, and said: 'Come, my friend; it is nothing; you feel betteralready, I expect. Pluck up your courage, and make an attempt. It willsoon be over. ' But as I felt that he was slipping out of my hands, Igave him a slap on the shoulder, which sent him forward and made himfall into the carriage, and then I got in after him. Monsieur Lelièvre, who was rather alarmed, said to me: 'Do you think it is anythingserious?' To which I replied, '_No_, ' with a smile, as I looked at hiswife, who had put her arm into that of her legitimate husband, and wastrying to see into the carriage. 

"I shook hands with them, and told my coachman to start, and during thewhole drive the dead man kept falling against me. When we got to hishouse, I said that he had become unconscious on the way home, and helpedto carry him upstairs, where I certified that he was dead, and actedanother comedy to his distracted family, and at last I got back to bed, not without swearing at lovers. "

The doctor ceased, though he was still smiling, and the young woman, whowas in a very nervous state, said: "Why have you told me that terriblestory?"

He gave her a gallant bow, and replied:

"So that I may offer you my services, if necessary. "

THE ASSIGNATION

Although she had her bonnet and jacket on, with a black veil over herface, and another in her pocket, which she would put on over the +otheras soon as she had got into the cab, she was beating +the top of herlittle boot with the point of her parasol, and remained sitting in herroom, without being able to make up her mind to keep this appointment. 

And yet, how many times within the last two years had she dressedherself thus, when she knew that her husband would be on the StockExchange, in order to go to the bachelor chambers of her lover, thehandsome Viscount de Martelet. 

The clock behind her was ticking loudly, a book which she had half readthrough was lying open on a little rosewood writing-table between thewindows, and a strong, sweet smell of violets from two bunches whichwere in a couple of Dresden china vases, mingled with a vague smell ofverbena which came through the half-open door of her dressing-room. 

The clock struck three, she rose up from her chair, she turned round tolook at herself in the glass and smiled. "He is already waiting for me, and will be getting tired. "

Then she left the room, told her footman that she would be back in anhour, at the latest--which was a lie; went downstairs and ventured intothe street on foot. 

It was towards the end of May, that delightful time of the year, whenthe spring seems to be besieging Paris, and to conquer it over itsroofs, invading the houses through their walls, and making it look gay, shedding brightness over its stone façades, the asphalt of itspavements, the stones on the roads, bathing it and intoxicating it withsap, like a forest putting on its spring verdure. 

Madame Haggan went a few steps to the right, intending, as usual, to goalong the Parade Provence, where she would hail a cab; but the soft air, that feeling of summer which penetrates our breast on some days, nowtook possession of her so suddenly that she changed her mind, and wentdown the Rue de la Chausée d'Antin, without knowing why, but vaguelyattracted by a desire to see the trees in the _Square de la Trinité_. 

"He may just wait ten minutes longer for me, " she said to herself. Andthat idea pleased her also as she walked slowly through the crowd. Shefancied that she saw him growing impatient, looking at the clock, opening the window, listening at the door, sitting down for a fewmoments, getting up again, and not daring to smoke, as she had forbiddenhim to do so when she was coming to him, and throwing despairing looksat his box of cigarettes. 

She walked slowly, interested in what she saw, the shops and the peopleshe met, walking slower and slower, and so little eager to get to herdestination that she only sought for some pretext for stopping, and atthe end of the street, in the little square, the verdure attracted herso much, that she went in, took a chair, and, sitting down, watched thehands of the clock as they moved. 

Just then, the half hour struck, and her heart beat with pleasure whenshe heard the chimes. She had gained half-an-hour; then it would takeher a quarter of an hour to reach the Rue Miromesnil, and a few minutesmore in strolling along--an hour! a whole hour saved from her_rendez-vous_! She would not stop three-quarters of an hour, and thatbusiness would be finished once more. 

Oh! she disliked going there! Just like a patient going to the dentist, so she had the intolerable recollection of all their past meetings, onea week on an average, for the last two years; and the thought thatanother was going to take place immediately made her shiver with miseryfrom head to foot. Not that it was exactly painful, like a visit to thedentist, but it was wearisome, so wearisome, so complicated, so long, sounpleasant, that anything, even a visit to the dentist would have seemedpreferable to her. She went on, however, but very slowly, stopping, sitting down, going hither and thither, but she went. Oh! how she wouldhave liked to miss this meeting, but she had left the unhappy viscountin the lurch, twice following, during the last month, and she did notdare to do it again so soon. Why did she go to see him? Oh! why? Becauseshe had acquired the habit of doing it, and had no reason to give poorMartelet when he wanted to know _the why_! Why had she begun it? Why?She did not know herself, any longer. Had she been in love with him?Very possibly! Not very much, but a little, a long time ago! He was verynice, sought after, perfectly dressed, most courteous, and after thefirst glance, he was a perfect lover for a fashionable woman. He hadcourted her for three months--the normal period, an honorable strife andsufficient resistances--and then she had consented, and with whatemotion, what nervousness, what terrible, delightful fear, and thatfirst meeting in his small, ground-floor bachelor rooms, in the Rue deMiromesnil. Her heart? What did her little heart of a woman who had beenseduced, vanquished, conquered, feel when she for the first time enteredthe door of that house which was her nightmare? She really did not know!She had quite forgotten. One remembers a fact, a date, a thing, but onehardly remembers, after the lapse of two years, what an emotion, whichsoon vanished, because it was very slight, was like. But, oh! she hadcertainly not forgotten the others, that rosary of meetings, that roadto the cross of love, and those stations, which were so monotonous, sofatiguing, so similar to each other, that she felt a nauseating taste inher mouth at what was going to happen so soon. 

And the very cabs were not like the other cabs which one makes use offor ordinary purposes! Certainly, the cabmen guessed. She felt sure ofit, by the very way they looked at her, and the eyes of these Pariscabmen are terrible! When one remembers they are constantly remembering, in the Courts of Justices, after a lapse of several years, faces ofcriminals whom they have only driven once, in the middle of the night, from some street or other to a railway station, and that they have to dowith almost as many passengers as there are hours in the day, and thattheir memory is good enough for them to declare: "That is the man whom Itook up in the Rues des Martyrs, and put down at the Lyons RailwayStation, at 12 o'clock at night, on July 10, last year!" Is it notterrible when one risks what a young woman risks when she is going tomeet her lover, and has to trust her reputation to the first cabman shemeets? In two years she had employed at least a hundred to a hundred andtwenty in that drive to the Rue Miromesnil, reckoning only one a week, and they were so many witnesses, who might appear against her at acritical moment. 

As soon as she was in the cab, she took another veil, which was as thickand dark as a domino mask, out of her pocket, and put it on. That hidher face, but what about the rest, her dress, her bonnet, and herparasol? They might be remarked; they might, in fact, have been seenalready. Oh! I What misery she endured in this Rue de Miromesnil! Shethought that she recognized all the foot-passengers, the servants, everybody, and almost before the cab had stopped, she jumped out and ranpast the porter who was standing outside his lodge. He must knoweverything, everything!--her address, her name, her husband'sprofession--everything, for those porters are the most cunning ofpolicemen! For two years she had intended to bribe him, to give him (tothrow at him one day as she passed him) a hundred-franc bank-note, butshe had never once dared to do it. She was frightened! What of? She didnot know! Of his calling her back, if he did not understand? Of ascandal? Of a crowd on the stairs? Of being arrested, perhaps? To reachthe Viscount's door, she had only to ascend a half a flight of stairs, and it seemed to her as high as the tower of Saint Jacques' Church. 

As soon as she had reached the vestibule, she felt as if she were caughtin a trap, and the slightest noise before or behind her, nearly made herfaint. It was impossible for her to go back, because of that porter whobarred her retreat; and if anyone came down at that moment she would notdare to ring at Martelet's door, but would pass it as if she had beengoing elsewhere! She would have gone up, and up, and up! She would havemounted forty flights of stairs! Then, when everything would seem quietagain down below, she would run down, feeling terribly frightened, lestshe would not recognize the lobby. 

He was there in a velvet coat lined with silk, very stylish, but ratherridiculous, and for two years he had never altered his manner ofreceiving her, not in a single movement! As soon as he had shut thedoor, he used to say this: "Let me kiss your hands, my dear, dearfriend!" Then he followed her into the room, when with closed shuttersand lighted candles, out of refinement, no doubt, he knelt down beforeher and looked at her from head to foot with an air of adoration. On thefirst occasion that had been very nice and very successful; but now itseemed to her as if she saw Monsieur Delauney acting the last scene of asuccessful piece for the hundred and twentieth time. He might reallychange his manner of acting. But no, he never altered his manner ofacting, poor fellow. What a good fellow he was, but very commonplace!

And how difficult it was to undress and dress without a lady's maid!Perhaps that was the moment when she began to take a dislike to him. When he said: "Do you want me to help you?" she could have killed him. Certainly there were not many men as awkward as he was, or asuninteresting. Certainly, little Baron de Isombal would never have askedher in such a manner: "Do you want me to help you?" He would have helpedher, he was so witty, so funny, so active. But there! He was adiplomatist, he had been about in the world, and had roamed everywhere, and, no doubt, dressed and undressed women who were arrayed in everypossible fashion! ... 

The church clock struck the three-quarters, and she looked at the dial, and said: "Oh, how agitated he will be!" and then she quickly left thesquare; but she had not taken a dozen steps outside, when she foundherself face to face with a gentleman who bowed profoundly to her. 

"Why! Is that you, Baron?" she said, in surprise. She had just beenthinking of him. 

"Yes, Madame. " And then, after asking how she was, and a few vaguewords, he continued: "Do you know that you are the only one--you willallow me to say of my lady friends, I hope? who has not yet seen myJapanese collection. "

"But my dear Baron, a lady cannot go to a bachelor's room like this. "

"What do you mean? That is a great mistake, when it is a question ofseeing a rare collection!"

"At any rate, she cannot go alone. "

"And why not? I have received a number of ladies alone, only for thesake of seeing my collection! They come every day. Shall I tell youtheir names? No--I will not do that; one must be discreet, even when oneit not guilty; as a matter of fact, there is nothing improper in goingto the house of a well-known serious man who holds a certain position, unless one goes for an unavoidable reason!"

"Well, what you have said is certainly correct, at bottom. "

"So you will come and see my collection?"

"When?"

"Well, now, immediately. "

"Impossible; I am in a hurry. "

"Nonsense, you have been sitting in the square for this last half hour. "

"You were watching me?"

"I was looking at you. "

"But I am sadly in a hurry. "

"_I_ am sure you are not. Confess that you are in no particular hurry. "

Madame Haggan began to laugh, and said: "Well, ... No ... Not ... Very.... "

A cab passed close to them, and the little Baron called out: "Cabman!"and the vehicle stopped, and opening the door, he said: "Get in, Madame. "

"But, Baron! no, it is impossible to-day; I really cannot. "

"Madame, you are acting very imprudently; get in! people are beginningto look at us, and you will collect a crowd; they will think I am tryingto carry you off, and we shall both be arrested; please get in!"

She got in, frightened and bewildered, and he sat down by her side, saying to the cabman: "Rue de Provence. "

But suddenly she exclaimed: "Good heavens! I have forgotten a veryimportant telegram; please drive to the nearest telegraph office firstof all. "

The cab stopped a little farther on, in the Rue de Châteaudun, and shesaid to the Baron: "Would you kindly get me a fifty centimes telegraphform? I promised my husband to invite Martelet to dinner to-morrow, andhad quite forgotten it. "

When the Baron returned and gave her the blue telegraph form, she wrotein pencil:

 "My Dear Friend: I am not at all well. I am suffering terribly from neuralgia, which keeps me in bed. Impossible to go out. Come and dine to-morrow night, so that I may obtain my pardon. 

 "JEANNE. "

She wetted the gum, fastened it carefully, and addressed it to:"Viscount de Martelet, 240 Rue Miromesnil, " and then, giving it back tothe Baron, she said: "Now, will you be kind enough to throw this intothe telegram box. "

AN ADVENTURE

"Come! Come!" Pierre Dufaille said, shrugging his shoulders. "What areyou talking about, when you say that there are no more adventures? Saythat there are no more adventurous men, and you will be right! Yes, nobody ventures to trust to chance, in these days, for as soon as thereis any slight mystery, or a spice of danger, they draw back. If, however, a man is willing to go into them blindly, and to run the riskof anything that may happen, he can still meet with adventures, and evenI, who never look for them, met with one in my life, and a verystartling one; let me tell you. 

"I was staying in Florence, and was living very quietly, and all Iindulged in, in the way of adventures, was to listen occasionally to theimmoral proposals with which every stranger is beset at night on the_Piazzo de la Signoria_, by some worthy Pandarus or other, with a headlike that of a venerable priest. These excellent fellows generallyintroduce you to their families, where debauchery is carried on in avery simple, and almost patriarchal fashion, and where one does not runthe slightest risk. 

"One day as I was admiring Benvenuto Cellini's wonderful Perseus, infront of the _Loggia del Lanzi_, I suddenly felt my sleeve pulledsomewhat roughly, and on turning round, I found myself face to face witha woman of about fifty, who said to me with a strong German accent:'You are French, Monsieur, are you not?' 'Certainly, I am, ' I replied. 'And would you like to go home with a very pretty woman?'

"'Most certainly I should, ' I replied, with a laugh. 

"Nothing could have been funnier than the looks and the serious air ofthe procuress, or than the strangeness of the proposal, made to broaddaylight, and in very bad French, but it was even worse when she added:'Do you know everything they do in Paris?' 'What do you mean, my goodwoman?' I asked her, rather startled. 'What is done in Paris, that isnot done everywhere else?'

"However, when she explained her meaning, I replied that I certainlycould not, and as I was not quite so immodest as the lady, I blushed alittle. But not for long, for almost immediately afterwards I grew pale, when she said: 'I want to assure myself of it, personally. ' And she saidthis in the same phlegmatic manner, which did not seem so funny to menow, but, on the contrary, rather frightened me. 'What!' I said. 'Personally! You! Explain yourself!'

"If I had been rather surprised before, I was altogether astonished ather explanation. It was indeed an adventure, and was almost like aromance. I could scarcely believe my ears, but this is what she told me. 

"She was the confidential attendant on a lady moving in high society, who wished to be initiated into the most secret refinements of Parisianhigh life, and who had done me the honor of choosing me for hercompanion. But then, this preliminary test! 'By Jove!' I said to myself, 'this old German hag is not so stupid as she looks!' And I laughed in mysleeve, as I listened inattentively to what she was saying to persuademe. 

"'My mistress is the prettiest woman you can dream of; a real beauty;springtime! A flower!' 'You must excuse me, but if your mistress isreally like springtime and a flower, you (pray excuse me for being soblunt) are not exactly that, and perhaps I should not exactly be in amood to humor you, my dear lady, in the same way that I might her. '

"She jumped back, astonished in turn: 'Why, I only want to satisfymyself with my own eyes; not by injuring you. ' And she finished herexplanation, which had been incomplete before. All she had to do was togo with me to _Mother Patata's_ well-known establishment, and there tobe present while I conversed with one of its fair and frail inhabitants. 

"'Oh!' I said to myself, 'I was mistaken in her tastes. She is, ofcourse, an old, shriveled up woman, as I guessed, but she is aspecialist. This is interesting, upon my word! I never met with such aone before!'

"Here, gentlemen, I must beg you to allow me to hide my face for amoment. What I said was evidently not strictly correct, and I am ratherashamed of it; my excuse must be that I was young, that _Patata's_ was acelebrated place, of which I had heard wonderful things said, but theentry to which was barred me, on account of my small means. Fivenapoleons was the price! Fancy! I could not treat myself to it, and so Iaccepted the good lady's offer. I do not say that it was notdisagreeable, but what was I to do? And then, the old woman was aGerman, and so her five napoleons were a slight return for our fivemilliards, which we paid them as our war indemnity. 

"Well, _Patata's_ boarder was charming, the old woman was not tootroublesome, and your humble servant did his best to sustain the ancientglory of Frenchmen. 

"Let me drink my disgrace to the dregs! On the next day but one after, Iwas waiting at the statue of Perseus. It was shameful, I confess, but Ienjoyed the partial restitution of the five milliards, and it issurprising how a Frenchman loses his dignity, when he is traveling. 

"The good lady made her appearance at the appointed time. It was quitedark, and I followed her without a word, for, after all, I was not veryproud of the part I was playing. But if you only knew how fair thatlittle girl at _Patata's_ was! As I went along, I thought only of her, and did not pay any attention to where we were going, and I was onlyroused from my reverie by hearing the old woman say: 'Here we are. Tryand be as entertaining as you were the day before yesterday. '

"We were not outside _Patata's_ house, but in a narrow street running bythe side of a palace with high walls, and in front of us was a smalldoor, which the old woman opened gently. 

"For a moment I felt inclined to draw back. Apparently the old hag wasalso ardent on her own account! She had me in a trap! No doubt shewanted in her turn to make use of my small talents! But, no! That wasimpossible!

"'Go in! Go in!' she said. 'What are you afraid of? My mistress is sopretty, so pretty, much prettier than the little girl of the other day. 'So it was really true, this story out of _The Arabian Nights_? Why not?And after all, what was I risking? The good woman would certainly notinjure me, and so I went in, though somewhat nervously. 

"Oh! My friend, what an hour I spent then! Paradise! and it would beuseless, impossible to describe it to you! Apartments fit for aprincess, and one of those princesses out of fairy tales, a fairyherself. An exquisite German woman, exquisite as German women can be, when they try. An Undine of Heinrich Heine's, with hair like the VirginMary's, innocent blue eyes, and a skin like strawberries and cream. 

"Suddenly, however, my Undine got up, and her face convulsed with furyand pride. Then, she rushed behind some hangings, where she began togive vent to a flood of German words, which I did not understand, whileI remained standing, dumbfounded. But just then, the old woman came in, and said, shaking with fear: 'Quick, quick; dress yourself and go, ifyou do not wish to be killed. '

"I asked no questions, for what was the good of trying to understand?Besides, the old woman, who grew more and more terrified, could not findany French words, and chattered wildly. I jumped up and got into myshoes and overcoat and ran down the stairs, and in the street. 

"Ten minutes later, I recovered my breath and my senses, without knowingwhat streets I had been through, nor where I had come from, and I stolefurtively into my hotel, as if I had been a malefactor. 

"In the _cafés_ the next morning, nothing was talked of except a crimethat had been committed during the night. A German baron had killed hiswife with a revolver, but he had been liberated on bail, as he hadappealed to his counsel, to whom he had given the following explanation, to the truth of which the lady companion of the baroness had certified. 

"She had been married to her husband almost by force, and detested him, and she had some particular reasons (which were not specified) for herhatred of him. In order to have her revenge on him, she had had himseized, bound and gagged by four hired ruffians, who had been caught, and who had confessed everything. Thus, reduced to immobility, andunable to help himself, the baron had been obliged to witness adegrading scene, where his wife caressed a Frenchman, and thus outragedconjugal fidelity and German honor at the same time. As soon as he wasset at liberty, the baron had punished his faithless wife, and was nowseeking her accomplice. "

"And what did you do?" someone asked Pierre Dufaille. 

"The only thing I could do, by George!" he replied. "I put myself at thepoor devil's disposal; it was his right, and so we fought a duel. Alas!It was with swords, and he ran me right through the body. That was alsohis right, but he exceeded his right when he called me her _ponce_. ThenI gave him his chance, and as I fell, I called out with all the strengththat remained to me: 'A Frenchman! A Frenchman! Long live France!'"

THE DOUBLE PINS

"Ah; my-dear fellow, what jades women are!"

"What makes you say that?"

"Because they have played me an abominable trick. "

"You?"

"Yes, me. "

"Women, or a woman?"

"Two women. "

"Two women at once?"

"Yes. "

"What was the trick?"

The two young men were sitting outside a _café_ on the Boulevards, anddrinking liquors mixed with water, those aperients which look likeinfusions of all the shades in a box of water-colors. They were nearlythe same age, twenty-five to thirty. One was dark and the other fair, and they had the same semi-elegant look of stock-jobbers, of men who goto the Stock Exchange, and into drawing-rooms, who are to be seeneverywhere, who live everywhere, and love everywhere. The dark onecontinued. 

"I have told you of my connection with that little woman, a tradesman'swife, whom I met on the beach at Dieppe?"

"Yes. "

"My dear fellow, you know what it is. I had a mistress in Paris, whom Iloved dearly; an old friend, a good friend, and it has grown into ahabit, in fact, and I value it very much. "

"Your habit. "

"Yes, my habit, and hers also. She is married to an excellent man, whomI also value very much, a very cordial fellow. A capital companion! Imay say, I think that my life is bound up with that house. "

"Well?"

"Well! they could not manage to leave Paris, and I found myself awidower at Dieppe. "

"Why did you go to Dieppe?"

"For change of air. One cannot remain on the Boulevards the whole time. "

"And then?"

"Then I met the little woman I mentioned to you on the beach there. "

"The wife of that head of the public office?"

"Yes; she was dreadfully dull; her husband only came every Sunday, andhe is horrible! I understand her perfectly, and we laughed and dancedtogether. "

"And the rest?"

"Yes, but that came later. However, we met, we liked each other. I toldher I liked her, and she made me repeat it, so that she might understandit better, and she put no obstacles in my way. "

"Did you love her?"

"Yes, a little; she is very nice. "

"And what about the other?"

"The other was in Paris! Well, for six weeks it was very pleasant, andwre returned here on the best of terms. Do you know how to break with awoman, when that woman has not wronged you in any way?"

"Yes, perfectly well. "

"How do you manage it?"

"I give her up. "

"How do you do it?"

"I do not see her any longer. "

"But supposing she comes to you?"

"I am ... Not at home. "

"And if she comes again?"

"I say I am not well. "

"If she looks after you?"

"I play her some dirty trick. "

"And if she puts up with it?"

"I write to her husband anonymous letters, so that he may look after heron the days that I expect her. "

"That is serious! I cannot resist, and do not know how to bring about arupture, and so I have a collection of mistresses. There are some whom Ido not see more than once a year, others every ten months, others onthose days when they want to dine at a restaurant, those whom I have putat regular intervals do not worry me, but I often have great difficultywith the fresh ones, so as to keep them at proper intervals. "

"And then.... "

"And then ... Then, this little woman was all fire and flame, withoutany fault of mine, as I told you! As her husband spends all the wholeday at his office, she began to come to me unexpectedly, and twice shenearly met my regular one on, the stairs. "

"The devil!"

"Yes; so I gave each of them her days, regular days, to avoid confusion;Saturday and Monday for the old one, Tuesday, Friday and Sunday for thenew one. "

"Why did you show her the preference?"

"Ah! My dear friend, she is younger. "

"The devil!"

"Yes; so I gave each of them her days, regular days, to avoid confusion;Saturday and Monday for the old one, Tuesday, Friday and Sunday for thenew one. "

"Why did you show her the preference?"

"Ah! My dear friend, she is younger. "

"So that only gave you two days to yourself in a week. "

"That is enough for one. "

"Allow me to compliment you on that. "

"Well, just fancy that the most ridiculous and most annoying thing inthe world happened to me. For four months everything had been going onperfectly; I felt perfectly safe, and I was really very happy, whensuddenly, last Monday, the crash came. 

"I was expecting my regular one at the usual time, a quarter past one, and was smoking a good cigar, and dreaming, very well satisfied withmyself, when I suddenly saw that it was past the time, at which I wasmuch surprised, for she is very punctual, but I thought that somethingmight have accidentally delayed her. However, half-an-hour passed, thenan hour, an hour and a half, and then I knew that something must havedetained her; a sick headache, perhaps, or some annoying visitor. Thatsort of waiting is very vexatious, that ... Useless waiting ... Veryannoying and enervating. At last, I made up my mind to go out, and notknowing what to do, I went to her and found her reading a novel. "

"Well!" I said to her. And she replied quite calmly:

"My dear I could not come; I was hindered. "

"How?"

"My ... Something else. "

"What was it?

"A very annoying visit. "

"I saw that she would not tell me the true reason, and as she was verycalm, I did not trouble myself any more about it, and hoped to make upfor lost time with the other, the next day, and on the Tuesday, I wasvery ... Very excited, and amorous in expectation of the publicofficial's little wife, and I was surprised that she had not come beforethe appointed time, and I looked at the clock every moment, and watchedthe hands impatiently, but the quarter past, then the half-hour, thentwo o'clock. I could not sit still any longer, and walked up and downvery soon in great strides, putting my face against the window, and myears to the door, to listen whether she was not coming upstairs. "

"Half-past two, three o'clock! I seized my hat, and rushed to her house. She was reading a novel my dear fellow! 'Well!' I said, anxiously, andshe replied as calmly as usual: 'I was hindered, and could not come. '

"'By what?'

"'An annoying visit. '

"Of course, I immediately thought that they both knew everything, butshe seemed so calm and quiet, that I set aside my suspicions, andthought it was only some strange coincidence, as I could not believe insuch dissimulation on her part, and so, after half-an-hour's friendlytalk, which was, however, interrupted a dozen times by her little girlcoming in and out of the room. I went away, very much annoyed. Justimagine the next day.... "

"The same thing happened?"

"Yes, and the next also. And that went on for three weeks without anyexplanation, without anything explaining that strange conduct to me, thesecret of which I suspected, however. "

"They knew everything?"

"I should think so, by George. But how? Ah! I had a great deal ofanxiety before I found it out. "

"How did you manage it at last?"

"From their letters, for on the same day they both gave me theirdismissal in identical terms. "

"Well?"

"This is how it was.... You know that women always have an array of pinsabout them. I know hairpins, I doubt them, and look after them, but theothers are much more treacherous; those confounded little black-headedpins which look all alike to us, great fools that we are, but which theycan distinguish, just as we can distinguish a horse from a dog. 

"Well, it appears that one day my minister's little wife left one ofthose tell-tale instruments pinned to the paper, close to mylooking-glass. My usual one had immediately seen this little blackspeck, no bigger than a flea, and had taken it out without saying aword, and then had left one of her pins, which was also black, but of adifferent pattern, in the same place. 

"The next day, the minister's wife wished to recover her property, andimmediately recognized the substitution. Then her suspicions werearoused, and she put in two and crossed them, and my original onereplied to this telegraphic signal by three black pellets, one on thetop of the other, and as soon as this method had begun, they continuedto communicate with one another, without saying a word, only to spy oneach other. Then it appears that the regular one, being bolder, wrappeda tiny piece of paper round the little wire point, and wrote upon it:_C. D. , Poste Restante, Boulevards, Malherbes_. 

"Then they wrote to each other. You understand that was not everythingthat passed between them. They set to work with precaution, with athousand stratagems, with all the prudence that is necessary in suchcases, but the regular one did a bold stroke, and made an appointmentwith the other. I do not know what they said to each other; all that Iknow is, that I had to pay the costs of their interview. There you haveit all!"

"Is that all?"

"Yes. "

"And you do not see them any more?"

"I beg your pardon. I see them as friends, for we have not quarreledaltogether. "

"And have they met again?"

"Yes, my dear fellow, they have become intimate friends. "

"And has not that given you an idea?"

"No, what idea?"

"You great booby! The idea of making them put back the pins where theyfound them. "

UNDER THE YOKE

As he was a man of quiet and regular habits, and of a simple andaffectionate disposition, and had nothing to disturb the even tenor ofhis life, Monsieur de Loubancourt suffered more than most men do fromhis widowerhood. He regretted his lost happiness, was angry with fate, which separated united couples so brutally, and which made choice of atranquil existence, whose sleepy quietude had not hitherto been troubledby any cares or chimeras, in order to rob it of its happiness. 

Had he been younger, he might, perhaps, have been tempted to form a newline, to fill up the vacant place, and to marry again. But when a man isnearly sixty, such ideas make people laugh, for they have somethingridiculous and insane about them; and so he dragged on his dull andweary existence, escaped from all those familiar objects whichconstantly recalled the past to him, and went from hotel to hotelwithout taking an interest in anything, without becoming intimate withanyone, even temporarily; inconsolable, silent, almost enigmatical, andlooking funereal in his eternal black clothes. 

He was generally alone, though on rare occasions he was accompanied byhis only son, who used to yawn by stealth, and who seemed to be mentallycounting the hours, as if he were performing some hateful, enforced dutyin spite of himself. 

Two years of this crystallization went past, and one was as monotonous, and as void of incident, as the other. 

One evening, however, in a boarding-house at Cannes, where he wasstaying on his wanderings, there was a young woman dressed in mourning, among the new arrivals, who sat next to him at dinner. She had a sad, pale face, that told of suffering, a beautiful figure, and large, blueeyes with deep rings round them, but which, nevertheless, looked likethe first star which shines in the twilight. 

All remarked her, although he usually took no notice of women, no matterwhatever they were, ugly or pretty; he looked at her and listened toher. He felt less lonely by her side, though he did not know why. Hetrembled with instinctive and confused happiness, just as if in somedistant country he had found some female friend or relative, who at lastwould understand him, tell him some news, and talk to him in his dearnative language about everything that a man leaves behind him when heexiles himself from home. 

What strange affinity had thrown them together thus? What secret forceshad brought their grief in contact? What made him so sanguine and socalm, and incited him to take her suddenly into his confidences, andurged him on to resistless curiosity?

She was an experienced traveler, who had no illusions, and was in searchof adventures; one of those women who frequently change their name, andwho, as they have made up their minds to swindle if luck is not on theirside, act a continual part, an adventuress, who could put on everyaccent; who for the sake of her course, transformed herself into a Slav, or into an American, or simply into a provincial; who was ready to takepart in any comedy in order to make money, and not to be obliged towaste her strength and her brains on fruitless struggles or on wretchedexpedients. Thus she immediately guessed the state of this melancholysexagenarian's mind, and the illusions which attracted him to her, andscented the spoils which offered themselves to her cupidity of their ownaccord, and divined under what guise she ought to show herself, to makeherself accepted and loved. 

She initiated him into depths of grief which were unknown to him, byphrases which were cut short by sighs, by fragments of her story, whichshe finished by a disgusted shrug of the shoulders, and a heartrendingsmile, and by insensibly exciting his feelings. In a word, she triumphedover the last remaining doubts, which might still have mingled with theaffectionate pity with which that poor, solitary heart, which, so fullof bitterness, overflowed. 

And so, for the first time since he had become a widower, the old manconfided in another person, poured out his old heart into that soulwhich seemed to be so like his own, which seemed to offer him a refugewhere he could be cheered up, and where the wounds of his heart could behealed, and he longed to throw himself into those sisterly arms, to dryhis tears and to exercise his grief there. 

 * * * * *

Monsieur de Loubancourt, who had married at twenty-five, as much fromlove as from judgment, had lived quietly and peacefully in the country, much more than in Paris. He was ignorant of the female wiles oftemptations, offered to creatures like Wanda Pulska, who was made up oflies, and only cared for pleasure, a virgin soil on which any seed willgrow. 

She attached herself to him, became his shadow, and by degrees, part ofhis life. She showed herself to be a charitable woman who devotedherself to an unhappy man, who endeavored to console him, and who, inspite of her youth, was willing to be the inseparable companion of theold man in his slow, daily walks. She never appeared to tire of hisanecdotes and reminiscences, and she played cards with him. She waitedon him carefully when he was confined to his bed, appeared to have nosex, and transformed herself; and though she handled him skillfully, sheseemed ingenuous and ignorant of evil. She acted like an innocent younggirl, who had just been confirmed; but for all that, she chose dangeroushours and certain spots in which to be sentimental and to ask questionswhich agitated and disconcerted him, and abandoned her slender fingersto his feverish hands, which pressed and held them in a tender clasp. 

And then, there were wild declarations of love, prayers and sobs whichfrightened her; wild _adieux_, which were not followed by his departure, but which brought about a touching reconciliation and the first kiss, and then, one night, while they were traveling together, he forced openthe door of her bedroom at the hotel, which she had locked, and came inlike a mad man. There was the phantom of violence, and the fallacioussubmission of a woman, who was overcome by so much tenderness, whorebelled no longer, but who accepted the yoke of her master and lover. And then, the conquest of the body after the conquest of the heart, which forged his chain link by link, pleasures which besot and corruptold men, and dry up their brains, until at last he allowed himself to beinduced, almost unconsciously, to make an odious and stupid will. 

Informed, perhaps, by anonymous letters, or astonished because hisfather kept him altogether at a distance from him, and gave no signs oflife, Monsieur de Loubancourt's son joined them in Provence. But WandaPulska, who had been preparing for that attack for a long time, waitedfor it fearlessly. 

She did not seem disconcerted at that sudden visit, but was verycharming and affable towards the new comer, reassured him by hercareless airs of a girl, who took life as it came, and who was sufferingfrom the consequences of a fault, and did not trouble her head about thefuture. 

He envied his father, and grudged him such a treasure. Although he hadcome to combat her dangerous influence, and to treat the woman, who hadassumed the place of death, and who governed her lover as his sovereignmistress, as an enemy, he shrunk from his task, panted with desire, losthis head, and thought of nothing but treason and of an odiouspartnership. 

She managed him even more easily than she had managed Monsieur deLoubancourt, molded him just as she chose; made him her tool, withouteven giving him the tips of her fingers, or granting him the slightestfavor, induced him to be so imprudent, that the old man grew jealous, watched them, discovered the intrigue, and found mad letters in whichhis son was angry, begged, threatened and implored. 

One evening, when she knew that her lover had come in, and was hiding ina dark cupboard in order to watch them, Wanda happened to be alone inthe drawing-room, which was full of light, of beautiful flowers, withthis young fellow, five-and-twenty. He threw himself at her feet anddeclared his love, and besought her to run away with him, and when shetried to bring him to reason and repulsed him, and told him in a loudand very distinct voice, how she loved Monsieur de Loubancourt, heseized her wrists with brutal violence, and maddened with passion andstammering words of love and lust, he pushed her towards one of thecouches. 

"Let me go, " she said, "let me go immediately, ... You are a brute totake advantage of a woman like that.... Please let me go, or I shallcall the servants to my assistance. "

The next moment, the old man, terrible in his rage, rushed out of hishiding place with clenched fists and a slobbering mouth, threw himselfon the startled son, and pointing to the door with a superb gesture, hesaid:

"You are a dirty scoundrel, sir. Get out of my house immediately, andnever let me see you again!"

 * * * * *

The comedy was over. Grateful for such fidelity and real affection, Monsieur de Loubancourt married Wanda Pulska, whose name appeared on thecivil register--which was a detail of no importance to a man who was inlove--as Frida Krubstein; she came from Saxony, and had been a servantat an inn. Then he disinherited his son, as far as he could. [17]

[Footnote 17: According to French law, nobody can altogether disinherita child, and no son or daughter can be "cut off" with a "proverbialshilling. "]

And now that she is a respectable and respected widow, Madame deLoubancourt is received everywhere by society in those places of winterresort where people's by-gone history is so rarely gone into, and wherewomen bear a name, who are pretty, and who can waltz--like the Germanscan, are always well received. 

THE READ ONE AND THE OTHER

"Well, really, " Chasseval said, standing with his back to the fire, "could any of those respectable shop-keepers and wine growers havepossibly believed that that pretty little Parisian woman, with her softinnocent eyes, like those of a Madonna, with such smiling lips andgolden hair, and who always dressed so simple, was their candidate'smistress?"

She was a wonderful help to him, and accompanied him even to the mostoutlying farms; went to the meetings in the small village _cafés_ andhad a pleasant and suitable word for every one, and did not recoil at aglass of mulled wine or a grip of the hand, and was always ready to joinin _farandole_. [18] She seemed to be so in love with Eliénne Rulhiére, to trust him so entirely, to be so proud of forming half of his life, and of belonging to him, gave him such looks full of pleasure and ofhope, and listened to all he said so intently, that voters who mighthave hesitated, allowed themselves by degrees to be talked over andpersuaded; and promised their votes to the young doctor, whose name theynever heard mentioned in the district before. 

[Footnote 18: A dance in Provence in which the dancers form a chain, andthe movements are directed by the leader. --TRANSLATOR. ]

That electoral campaign had been like a truant's escapade for JaneDardenne; it was a delightful and unexpected holiday, and as she was anactress at heart, she played her part seriously, and threw herself intoher character, and enjoyed herself more than she ever enjoyed herself inher most adventurous outings. 

And then there came in the pleasure of being taken for a woman of theworld, of being flattered, respected and envied, and of getting out ofthe usual groove for a time, and also the dream that this journey of afew weeks would have the sequence, that her lover would not separatefrom her on their return, but would sacrifice the woman whom he nolonger loved, and whom he ironically used to call his _Cinderella_, toher. 

At night, when they had laid aside all pretense, and when they werealone in their room in the hotel, she coaxed him and flattered him, spurred his ambition on, threw her quivering arms around him, and amidsther kisses, whispered those words to him, which make a man proud andwarm his heart, and give him strength, like a stout dram of alcohol. 

The two between them captured the district, and won the election easily, and in spite of his youth, Eliénne Rulhiére was chosen by a majority offive thousand. Then, of course, there were more fetes and banquets, atwhich Jane was present, and where she was received with enthusiasticshouts; there were fireworks, when she was obliged to set light to thefirst rocket, and balls at which she astonished those worthy people byher affability. And when they left, three little girls dressed in white, as if they were going to be confirmed, came onto the platform andrecited some complimentary verses to her while the band played the_Marseillaise_, the women waved their pocket-handkerchiefs, and the mentheir hats, and leaning out of the carriage window, looking charming inher traveling costume, with a smile on her lips, and with moist eyes, aswas fitting at such a pathetic leave-taking, actress as she was, with asudden and childlike gesture, she blew kisses to them from the tips ofher fingers, and said:

"Good-bye, my friends, good-bye, only for the present; I shall neverforget you!"

The deputy, who was also very effusive, had invited his principalsupporters to come and see him in Paris as there were plenty ofexcursion trains. They all took him at his word, and Rulhière wasobliged to invite them all to dinner. 

In order to avoid any possible mishaps, he gave his wife a foretaste oftheir guests. He told her that they were rather noisy, talkative, andunpolished, and that they would, no doubt, astonish her by their mannersand their accent, but that, as they had great influence, and wereexcellent men, they deserved a good reception. It was a very usefulprecaution, for when they came into the drawing-room in their newclothes, expanding with pleasure, and with their hair pomatumed as ifthey had been going to a country wedding, they felt inclined to falldown before the new Madame Rulhière to whom the deputy introduced them, and who seemed to be perfectly at home there. 

At first they were embarrassed, felt uncomfortable and out of place, didnot know what to say, and had to seek their words; they buttoned andunbuttoned their gloves, answered her questions at random, and rackedtheir brains to discover the solution of the enigma. Captain Moureduslooked at the fire, with the fixed gaze of a somnambulist, MariusBarbaste scratched his fingers mechanically, while the three others, thefactory manager, Casemajel, Roquetton, the lawyer, and Dustugue, thehotel proprietor, looked at Rulhière anxiously. 

The lawyer was the first to recover himself. He got up from his armchair laughing heartily, dug the deputy in the ribs with his elbow, andsaid:

"I understand it all, I understand it; you thought that people do notcome to Paris to be bored, eh? Madame is delightful, and I congratulateyou, Monsieur. "

He gave a wink, and made signs behind his back to his friends, and thenthe captain had his turn. 

"We are not boobies, and that fellow Roquetton is the most knowing ofthe lot of us.... Ah! Monsieur Rulhière, without any exaggeration, youare the cream of good fellows. "

And with a flushed face, and expanding his chest, he said sonorously:

"They certainly turn them out very pretty in your part of the country, my little lady!"

Madame Rulhière, who did not know what to say, had gone up to herhusband for protection; but she felt much inclined to go to her own roomunder some pretext or other, in order to escape from her intolerabletask. She kept her ground, however, during the whole of dinner, whichwas a noisy, jovial meal, during which the five electors, with theirelbows on the table, and their waistcoats unbuttoned, and half drunk, told coarse stories, and swore like troopers. But as the coffee and theliquors were served in the smoking room, she took leave of her guests inan impatient voice, and went to her own room with the hasty step of anescaped prisoner, who is afraid of being retaken. 

The electors sat staring after her with gaping mouths, and Mouredus lita cigar, and said:

"Just listen to me, Monsieur Rulhiére; it was very kind of you to inviteus here, to your little quiet establishment, but to speak to youfrankly, I should not, in your place, wrong my lawful wife for such astuck-up piece of goods as this one is. "

"The captain is quite right, " Roquetton the notary opined; "MadameRulhiére, the lawful Madame Rulhiére, is much more amiable, andaltogether nicer. You are a scoundrel to deceive her; but when may wehope to see her?"

And with a paternal grimace, he added:

"But do not be uneasy; we will all hold our tongue; it would be too sadif she were to find it out. "

THE UPSTART

You know good-natured, stout Dupontel, who looks like the type of ahappy man, with his fat cheeks that are the color of ripe apples, hissmall, reddish moustache, turned up over his thick lips, with hisprominent eyes, which never know any emotion or sorrow, which remind oneof the calm eyes of cows and oxen, and his long back fixed onto twolittle wriggling, crooked legs, which obtained for him the nickname ofcorkscrew from some nymph of the ballet. 

Dupontel, who had taken the trouble to be born, but not like the grandseigneurs whom Beaumarchais made fun of once upon a time, was ballastedwith a respectable number of millions, as is becoming in the sole heirof a house that had sold household utensils and appliances for over acentury. 

Naturally, like every other upstart who respects himself, he wished toappear something, to play at being a clubman, and also to play to thegallery, because he had been educated at Vangirard and knew a littleEnglish; because he had gone through his voluntary service in the armyfor twelve months[19] at Rouen; because he was a tolerable singer, coulddrive four-in-hands, and play lawn-tennis. 

[Footnote 19: Although, in France, as in Germany, military service iscompulsory, men are allowed to serve in both countries as _one-yearvolunteers_; they enjoy certain privileges, find their own uniform, &c. , and it, of course, entails considerable expense. --TRANSLATOR. ]

Always studiedly well-dressed, too correct in every way, copying his wayof speaking, his hats and his trousers from the three or four snobs whoset the fashion, reproducing other people's witticisms, learninganecdotes and jokes by heart, like a lesson, to use them again at smallparties, constantly laughing, without knowing why his friends burst intoroars of merriment, and was in the habit of keeping pretty girls for thepleasure of his best friends. Of course he was a perfect fool, but afterall, a capital fellow, to whom it was only right to extend a good dealof indulgence. 

When he had taken his thirty-first mistress, and had made the discoverythat in love, money does not create happiness two-thirds of the time, that they had all deceived him, and made him perfectly ridiculous at theend of the week, Charles Dupontel made up his mind to settle down as arespectable married man, and to marry, not from calculation or fromreason, but for love. 

One autumn afternoon at Auteuil, he noticed in front of the club stand, among the number of pretty women who were standing round the braziers, agirl with such lovely delicate complexion that it looked like an appleblossom; her hair was like threads of gold, and she was so slight andsupple that she reminded him of those outlines of saints which one seesin old stained-glass church windows. There was also somethingenigmatical about her, for she had at the same time the delightfullyingenuous look of a school girl during the holidays, and also of someenlightened young lady, who already knew the how and the why ofeverything, who is exuberant with youth and life, and who is eagerlywaiting for the moment when marriage will at length allow her to say andto do everything that comes into her head, and to amuse herself tosatiety. 

Then she had such small feet that they would have gone into a woman'shand, a waist that could have been clasped by a bracelet, turned upeyelashes, which fluttered like the wings of a butterfly, close on animpudent and sensual nose, and a vague, mocking smile that made folds inher lips, like the petals of a rose. 

Her father was a member of the Jockey Club, who was generally _clearedout_, as they call it, in the great races, but who yet defended hisposition bravely, and continued that, and who kept himself afloat byprodigies of coolness and skill. He belonged to a race which could provethat his ancestors had been at the court of Charlemagne, and not asmusicians or cooks, as some people declared. 

Her youth and beauty and her father's pedigree dazzled Dupontel, upsethis brain, and altogether turned him upside down, and combined theyseemed to him to be a mirage of happiness and of pride of family. 

He got introduced to her father, at the end of a game of baccarat, invited him to shoot with him, and a month later, as if it were anaffair to be hurried over, he asked for and obtained the hand ofMademoiselle Therése de Montsaigne, and felt as happy as a miner who hasdiscovered a vein of precious metal. 

The young woman did not require more than twenty-four hours to discoverthat her husband was nothing but a ridiculous puppet, and immediatelyset about to consider how she might best escape from her cage, andbefool the poor fellow, who loved her with all his heart. 

And she deceived him without the least pity or the slightest scruple;she did it as if it were from instinctive hatred, as if it were anecessity for her not only to make him ridiculous, but also to forgetthat she ought to sacrifice her virgin dreams to him, to belong to him, and to submit to his hateful caresses without being able to defendhimself and to repel him. 

She was cruel, as all women are when they do not love, delighted indoing audacious and absurd things, and in visiting everything, and inbraving danger. She seemed like a young colt, that is intoxicated withthe sun, the air and its liberty, and which gallops wildly across themeadows, jumps hedges and ditches, kicks, and whinnies joyously, androlls about in the long, sweet grass. 

But Dupontel remained quite imperturbable; he had not the slightestsuspicion, and was the first to laugh when anybody told him some goodstory of a husband who had been cuckolded, although his wife repelledhim, quarreled with him, and constantly pretended to be out of sorts ortired out, in order to escape from him. She seemed to take a maliciouspleasure in checkmating him by her personal remarks, her disenchantinganswers, and her apparent listlessness. 

They saw a great deal of company, and he called himself Du Pontel now, and he even had thoughts of buying a title from the Pope; he only readcertain newspapers, kept up a regular correspondence with the OrleansPrinces, was thinking of starting a racing stable, and finished up bybelieving that he really was a fashionable man, and strutted about, andwas puffed out with conceit, as he had probably never read La Fontaine'sfable, in which he tells the story of the ass that is laden with relicswhich people salute, and so takes their bows to himself. 

Suddenly, however, anonymous letters disturbed his quietude, and torethe bandage from his eyes. 

At first he tore them up without reading them, and shrugged hisshoulders disdainfully; but he received so many of them, and the writerseemed so determined to dot his _i's_ and cross his _t's_ and to clearhis brain for him, that the unhappy man began to grow disturbed, and towatch and to ferret about. He instituted minute inquiries, and arrivedat the conclusion that he no longer had the right to make fun of otherhusbands, and that he was the perfect counterpart of _Sganarelle_. [20]

[Footnote 20: The _Cocu Imaginaire_ (The Imaginary Cuckold), inMolière's play of that name. ]

Furious at having been duped, he set a whole private inquiry agency towork, continually acted a part, and one evening appeared unexpectedlywith a commissary of police in the snug little bachelor's quarters whichconcealed his wife's escapades. 

Therése, who was terribly frightened, and at her wits' end at being thussurprised in all the disorder of her lover's apartments, and pale withshame and terror, hid herself behind the bed curtains, while he, who wasan officer of dragoons, very much vexed at being mixed up in such apinchbeck scandal, and at being caught in a silk shirt by these men whowere so correctly dressed in frock coats, frowned angrily, and had torestrain himself so as not to fling his victim out of a window. 

The police commissary, who was calmly looking at this little scene withthe coolness of an amateur, prepared to verify the fact that they werecaught _flagrante delicto_, and in an ironical voice said to herhusband, who had claimed his services:

"I must ask for your name in full, Monsieur?"

"Charles Joseph Edward Dupontel, " was the answer. And as the commissarywas writing it down from his dictation, he added suddenly: "Du Pontel intwo words, if you please, Monsieur le Commissionaire!"

THE CARTER'S WENCH

The driver, who had jumped from his box, and was now walking slowly bythe side of his thin horses, waking them up every moment by a cut of thewhip, or a coarse oath, pointed to the top of the hill, where thewindows of a solitary house, in which the inhabitants were still up, although it was very late and quite dark, were shining like yellowlamps, and said to me:

"One gets a good drop there, Monsieur, and well served, by George. "

And his eyes flashed in his thin, sunburnt face, which was of a deepbrickdust color, while he smacked his lips like a drunkard, whoremembers a bottle of good liquor that he has lately drunk, and drawinghimself up in a blouse like a vulgar swell, he shivered like the back ofan ox, when it is sharply pricked with the goad. 

"Yes, and well served by a wench who will turn your head for you beforeyou have tilted your elbow and drank a glass!"

The moon was rising behind the snow-covered mountain peaks, which lookedalmost like blood under its rays, and which were crowned by dark, brokenclouds, which whirled about and floated, and reminded the passenger ofsome terrible Medusa's head. The gloomy plains of Capsir, which weretraversed by torrents, extensive meadows in which undefined forms weremoving about, fields of rye, like huge golden table-covers, and here andthere wretched villagers, and broad sheets of water, into which thestars seemed to look in a melancholy manner, opened out to the view. Damp gusts of winds swept along the road, bringing a strong smell ofhay, of resin of unknown flowers, with them, and erratic pieces of rock, which were scattered on the surface like huge boundary stones, hadspectral outlines. 

The driver pulled his broad-brimmed felt hat over his eyes, twirled hislarge moustache, and said in an obsequious voice:

"Does Monsieur wish to stop here? This is the place!"

It was a wretched wayside public-house, with a reddish slate roof, thatlooked as if it were suffering from leprosy, and before the door therestood three wagons drawn by mules, and loaded with huge stems of trees, and which took up nearly the whole of the road; the animals, which wereused to halting there, were dozing, and their heavy loads exhaled asmell of a pillaged forest. 

Inside, three wagoners, one of whom was an old man, while the other twowere young, were sitting in front of the fire, which cackled loudly, with bottles and glasses on a large round-table by their side, and weresinging and laughing boisterously. A woman with large round hips, andwith a lace cap pinned onto her hair, in the Catalan fashion, who lookedstrong and bold, and who had a certain amount of gracefulness about her, and with a pretty, but untidy head, was urging them to undo the stringsof their great leather purses, and replied to their somewhat indelicatejokes in a shrill voice, as she sat on the knee of the youngest, andallowed him to kiss her and to fumble in her bodice, without any signsof shame. 

The coachman pushed open the door, like a man who knows that he is athome. 

"Good evening, Glaizette, and everybody; there is room for two more, Isuppose?"

The wagoners did not speak, but looked at us cunningly and angrily, likedogs whose food had been taken from them, and who showed their teeth, ready to bite, while the girl shrugged her shoulders and looked intotheir eyes like some female wild beast tamer; and then she asked us witha strange smile:

"What am I to get you?"

"Two glasses of cognac, and the best you have in the cupboard, "Glaizette, the coachman replied, rolling a cigarette. 

While she was uncorking the bottle I noticed how green her eyeballswere; it was a fascinating, tempting green, like that of the great greengrasshopper; and also how small her hands were, which showed that shedid not use them much; how white her teeth were, and how her voice, which was rather rough, though cooing, had a cruel, and at the sametime, a coaxing sound. I fancied I saw her, as in a mirage, recliningtriumphantly on a couch, indifferent to the fights which were going onabout her, always waiting--longing for him who would prove himself thestronger, and who would prove victorious. She was, in short, thehospitable dispenser of love, by the side of that difficult, stony road, who opened her arms to poor men, and who made them forget everything inthe profusion of her kisses. She knew dark matters, which nobody in theworld besides herself should know, which her sealed lips would carryaway inviolate to the other world. She had never yet loved, and wouldnever really love, because she was vowed to passing kisses which were sosoon forgotten. 

I was anxious to escape from her as soon as possible; no longer to seeher pale, green eyes, and her mouth that bestowed caresses from purecharity; no longer to feel the woman with her beautiful, white hands, sonear one; so I threw her a piece of gold and made my escape withoutsaying a word to her, without waiting for any change, and without evenwishing her good-night, for I felt the caress of her smile, and thedisdainful restlessness of her looks. 

The carriage started off at a gallop to Formiguéres, amidst a furiousjingling of bells. I could not sleep any more; I wanted to know wherethat woman came from, but I was ashamed to ask the driver and to showany interest in such a creature, and when he began to talk, as we weregoing up another hill, as if he had guessed my sweet thoughts, he toldme all he knew about Glaizette. I listened to him with the attention ofa child, to whom somebody is telling some wonderful fairy tale. 

She came from Fontpédrouze, a muleteers' village, where the men spendtheir time in drinking and gambling at the inn when they are nottraveling on the high roads with their mules, while the women do all thefield work, carry the heaviest loads on their back, and lead a life ofpain and misery. 

Her father kept an inn; the girl grew up very happy; she was courtedbefore she was fifteen, and was so coquettish that she was certain to bealmost always found in front of her looking-glass, smiling at her ownbeauty, arranging her hair, trying to make herself like a young lady onthe _prado_. And now, as none of the family knew how to keep ahalfpenny, but spent more than they earned, and were like cracked jugs, from which the water escapes drop by drop, they found themselves ruinedone fine day, just as if they had been at the bottom of a blind alley. So on the "Feast of Our Lady of Succor, " when people go on a pilgrimageto Font Romea, and the villages are consequently deserted, theinn-keeper set fire to the house. The crime was discovered through _laGlaizette_, who could not make up her mind to leave the looking-glass, with which her room was adorned, behind her, and so had carried it offunder her petticoat. 

The parents were sentenced to many years' imprisonment, and being letloose to live as best she could, the girl became a servant, passed fromhand to hand, inherited some property from an old farmer, whom she hadcaught, as if she had been a thrush on a twig covered with bird-lime, and with the money she had built this public-house on the new road whichwas being built across the Capsir. 

"A regular bad one, Monsieur, " the coachman said in conclusion, "a vixensuch as one does not see now in the worst garrison towns, and who wouldopen the door to the whole fraternity, and not at all avaricious, butthoroughly honest.... "

I interrupted him in spite of myself, as if his words had pained me, andI thought of those pale green eyes, those magic eyes, eyes to be dreamtabout, which were the color of grasshoppers, and I looked for them, andsaw them in the darkness; they danced before me like phosphorescentlights, and I would have given then the whole contents of my purse tothat man if he would only have been silent and urged his horses on tofull speed, so that their mad gallop might carry me off quickly, quicklyand far, and continually further from that girl. 

THE MARQUIS

It was quite useless to expostulate when that obstinate little Sonia, with a Russian name and Russian caprices, had said: "I choose to do it. "She was so delicate and pretty also, with her slightly turned-up nose, and her rosy and childish cheeks, while every female perversity wasreflected in the depths of her strange eyes, which were the color of thesea on a stormy evening. Yes, she was very charming, very fantastic, andabove all, so Russian, so deliciously and imperiously Russian, and allthe more Russian, as she came from Montmarte, and in spite of this, notone of her seven lovers who composed her usual menagerie had laughedwhen their enslaver said one day:

"You know my feudal castle at Pludun-Herlouët, near SaintJacut-de-la-Mer, which I bought two years ago, and in which I have notyet set foot? Very well, then! The day after to-morrow, which is thefirst of May, we will have a house-warming there. "

The seven had not asked for any further explanation, but had accompaniedlittle Sonia, and were now ready to sit down to dinner under herpresidency in the dining-room of the old castle, which was situated tenhours from Paris. They had arrived there that morning; they were goingto have dinner and supper together, and start off again at daybreak nextmorning; such were Sonia's orders, and nobody had made the slightestobjection. 

Two of her admirers, however, who were not yet used to her sudden whims, had felt some surprise, which was quickly checked by expressions ofenthusiastic pleasure on the part of the others. 

"What a delightful, original idea! Nobody else would have thought ofsuch things! Positively, nobody else. Oh! these Russians!" But those whohad known her for some time, and who had been consequently educated notto be surprised at anything, found it all quite natural. 

It was half-past six in the evening, and the gentlemen were going todress. Sonia had made up her mind to keep on her morning-gown, or if shedressed, she would do so later. Just then she was not inclined to moveout of her great rocking-chair, from which she could see the sun settingover the sea. The sight always delighted her very much. It might havebeen taken for a large red billiard ball, rebounding from the greencloth. How funny it was! And how lucky that she was all alone to look atit, for those seven would not have understood it at all! Those men neverhave any soul, have they?

Certainly, the sunset was strange at first, but at length it made hersad, and just now Sonia's heart felt almost heavy, though the verysadness was sweet. She was congratulating herself more than ever onbeing alone, so as to enjoy that languor, which was almost like a gentledream, when, in perfect harmony with that melancholy and sweetsensation, a voice rose from the road, which was overhung by theterrace; a tremulous, but fresh and pure voice sang the following wordsto a slow melody:

 "Walking in Paris, Having my drink, A friend of mine whispered: _What do you think? If love makes you thirsty, Then wine makes you lusty_. "

The sound died away, as the singer continued on his way, and Sonia wasafraid that she should not hear the rest; it was really terrible; so shejumped out of the rocking-chair, ran to the balustrade of terrace, andleaning over it, she called out: "Sing it again! I insist on it. Thesong, the whole song!"

On hearing this, the singer looked round and then came back, withouthurrying, however, and as if he were prompted by curiosity, rather thanby any desire to comply with her order, and holding his hand over hiseyes, he looked at Sonia attentively, who, on her part, had plenty oftime to look closely at him. 

He was an old man of about sixty-five, and his rags and the wallet overhis shoulder denoted a beggar, but Sonia immediately noticed that therewas a certain amount of affectation in his wretchedness. His hair andbeard were not shaggy and ragged, like such men usually wear them, andevidently he had his hair cut occasionally, and he had a fine, and even_distinguished_ face, as Sonia said to herself. But she did not pay muchattention to that, as for some time she had noticed that old men at theseaside nearly all looked like gentlemen. 

When he got to the foot of the terrace, the beggar stopped, and waggedhis head and said: "Pretty! The little woman is very pretty!" But he didnot obey Sonia's order, who repeated it, almost angrily this time, beating a violent tattoo on the stone-work. "The song, the whole song!"

He did not seem to hear, but stood there gaping, with a vacant smile onhis face, and as his head was rather inclined towards his left shoulder, a thin stream of saliva trickled from his lips onto his beard, and hislooks became more and more ardent. "How stupid I am!" Sonia suddenlythought. "Of course he is waiting for something. " She felt in herpocket, in which she always carried some gold by way of half-pence, tookout a twenty-franc piece and threw it down to the old man. He, however, did not take any notice of it, but continued looking at herecstatically, and was only roused from his state of bliss by receiving ahandful of gravel which she threw at him, right in his face. 

"Do sing!" she exclaimed. "You must; I will have it; I have paid you. "And then, still smiling, he picked up the napoleon and threw it backonto the terrace, and then he said proudly, though in a very gentlevoice: "I do not ask for charity, little lady; but if it gives youpleasure, I will sing you the whole song, the whole of it, as often asyou please. " And he began the song again, in his tremulous voice, whichwas more tremulous than it had been before, as if he were much touched. 

Sonia was overcome, and without knowing was moved into tears; delightedbecause the man had spoken to her so familiarly, and rather ashamed athaving treated him as a beggar; and now her whole being was carried awayby the slow rhythm of the melody, which related an old love story, andwhen he had done he again looked at her with a smile, and as she wascrying, he said to her: "I dare say you have a beautiful horse, or alittle dog that you are very fond of, which is ill. Take me to it, and Iwill cure it: I understand it thoroughly. I will do it _gratis_, becauseyou are so pretty. "

She could not help laughing. "You must not laugh, " he said. "What areyou laughing at? Because I am poor? But I am not, for I had workyesterday, and again to-day. I have a bag full. See, look here!" Andfrom his belt he drew a leather purse in which coppers rattled. Hepoured them out into the palm of his hand, and said merrily: "You see, little one, I have a purse. Forty-seven sous; forty-seven!" "So you willnot take my napoleon?" Sonia said. "Certainly not, " he replied. "I donot want it; and then, I tell you again, I will not accept alms. So youdo not know me?" "No, I do not. " "Very well, ask anyone in theneighborhood. Everybody will tell you that the Marquis does not live oncharity. "

The Marquis! At that name she suddenly remembered that two years ago shehad heard his story. It was at the time that she bought the property, and the vendor had mentioned the _Marquis_ as one of the curiosities ofthe soil. He was said to be half silly, at any rate an original, almostin his dotage, living by any lucky bits that he could make ashorse-coper and veterinary. The peasants gave him a little work, as theyfeared that he might throw spells over anyone who refused to employ him. They also respected him on account of his former wealth and of histitle, for he had been rich, very rich, and they said that he really wasa marquis, and it was said that he had ruined himself in Paris byspeculating. The reason, of course, _was women_!

At that moment the dinner bell began to ring, and a wild idea enteredSonia's head. She ran to the little door that opened onto the terrace, overtook the musician, and with a ceremonious bow she said to him: "Willyou give me the pleasure and the honor of dining with me, Marquis?"

The old man left off smiling and grew serious; he put his hand to hisforehead, as if to bring old recollections back, and then with a veryformal, old-fashioned bow, he said: "With pleasure, my dear. " Andletting his wallet drop, he offered Sonia his arm. 

When she introduced this new guest to them, all the seven, even to thebest drilled, started. "I see what disturbs you, " she said. "It is hisdress. Well! It really leaves much to be desired. But wait a moment;that can soon be arranged. "

She rang for her lady's maid and whispered something to her, and thenshe said: "Marquis, your bath is ready in your dressing-room. If youwill follow Sabina, she will show you to it. These gentlemen and I willwait dinner for you. " And as soon as he had gone out, she said to theyoungest there: "And now, Ernest, go upstairs and undress; I will allowyou to dine in your morning coat, and you will give your dress coat andthe rest to Sabina, for the Marquis. "

Ernest was delighted at having to play a part in the piece, and the sixothers clapped their hands. "Nobody else could think of such things;nobody, nobody!"

Half an hour later they were sitting at dinner, the Marquis in a dresscoat on Sonia's left, and it was a great deception for the seven. Theyhad reckoned on having some fun with him, and especially Ernest, who setup as a wit, had intended to _draw him_. But at the first attempt ofthis sort, Sonia had given him a look which they all understood, anddinner began very ceremoniously for the seven, but merrily and withoutrestraint between Sonia and the old man. 

They cut very long faces, those seven, but inwardly, if one can say so, for of course they could not dream of showing how put out they were, andthose inward long faces grew longer still when Sonia said to the oldfellow, quite suddenly: "I say, how stupid these gentlemen are! Supposewe leave them to themselves?"

The Marquis rose, offered her his arm again, and said: "Where shall wego to?" But Sonia's only reply was to sing the couplet of that songwhich she had remembered:

 "For three years I passed The nights with my love, In a beautiful bed In a splendid alcove. Though wine makes me sleepy, Yet love keeps me frisky. "

And the seven, who were altogether dumbfounded this time, and who couldnot conceal their vexation, saw the couple disappear out of the doorwhich led to Sonia's apartments. "Hum!" Ernest ventured to say, "this isreally rather strong!" "Yes, " the eldest of the menagerie replied. "Itcertainly is rather strong, but it will do! You know, there is nobodylike her for thinking of such things!"

The next morning, the _château_ bell woke them up at six o'clock, whenthey had agreed to return to Paris, and the seven men asked each otherwhether they should go and wish Sonia good-morning, as usual, before shewas out of her room. Ernest hesitated more than any of them about it, and it was not until Sabina, her maid, came and told them that hermistress insisted upon it, that they could make up their minds to do so, and they were surprised to find Sonia in bed by herself. 

"Well!" Ernest asked boldly, "and what about the Marquis?" "He left veryearly, " Sonia replied. "A queer sort of marquis, I must say!" Ernestobserved contemptuously, and growing bolder. "Why, I should like toknow?" Sonia replied, drawing herself up. "The man has his own habits, Isuppose!" "Do you know, Madame, " Sabina observed, "that he came backhalf an hour after he left?" "Ah!" Sonia said, getting up and walkingabout the room. "He came back? What did he want, I wonder?" "He did notsay, Madame. He merely went upstairs to see you. He was dressed in hisold clothes again. "

And suddenly Sonia uttered a loud cry, and clapped her hands, and theseven came round to see what had caused her emotion. "Look here! Justlook here!" she cried. "Do look on the mantel-piece! It is reallycharming! Do look!"

And with a smiling, and yet somewhat melancholy expression in her eyes, with a tender look which they could not understand, she showed them asmall bunch of wild flowers, by the side of a heap of half-pennies. Mechanically she took them up and counted them, and then began to cry. 

There were forty-seven of them. 

THE BED

On a hot afternoon during last summer, the large auction rooms seemedasleep, and the auctioneers were knocking down the various lots in alistless manner. In a back room, on the first floor, two or three lotsof old silk, ecclesiastical vestments, were lying in a corner. 

They were copes for solemn occasions, and graceful chasubles on whichembroidered flowers surrounded symbolic letters on a yellowish ground, which had become cream-colored, although it had originally been white. Some second-hand dealers were there, two or three men with dirty beards, and a fat woman with a big stomach, one of those women who deal insecond-hand finery, and who also manage illicit love affairs, who arebrokers in old and young human flesh, just as much as they are in newand old clothes. 

Presently a beautiful Louis XV. Chasuble was put up for sale, which wasas pretty as the dress of a marchioness of that period; it had retainedall its colors, and was embroidered with lilies of the valley round thecross, and long blue iris, which came up to the foot of the sacredemblem, and wreaths of roses in the corners. When I had bought it, Inoticed that there was a faint scent about it, as if it were permeatedwith the remains of incense, or rather, as if it were still pervaded bythose delicate, sweet scents of by-gone years, which seemed to be onlythe memory of perfumes, the soul of evaporated essences. 

When I got it home, I wished to have a small chair of the same periodcovered with it; and as I was handling it in order to take the necessarymeasures, I felt some paper beneath my fingers, and when I cut thelining, some letters fell at my feet. They were yellow with age, and thefaint ink was the color of rust, and outside the sheet, which was foldedin the fashion of years long past, it was addressed in a delicate hand:_To Monsieur l'Abbé d'Argence_

The first three lines merely settled places of meeting, but here is thethird:

"My Friend; I am very unwell, ill in fact, and I cannot leave my bed. The rain is beating against my windows, and I lie dreaming comfortablyand warmly on my eider-down coverlet. I have a book of which I am veryfond, and which seems as if it really applied to me. Shall I tell youwhat it is? No, for you would only scold me. Then, when I have read alittle, I think, and will tell you what about. 

"Having been in bed for three days, I think about my bed, and even in mysleep I meditate on it still, and I have come to the conclusion that thebed constitutes our whole life; for we were born in it, we live in it, and we shall die in it. If, therefore, I had Monsieur de Crébillon'spen, I should write the history of a bed, and what exciting andterrible, as well as delightful moving occurrences would not such a bookcontain! What lessons and what subjects for moralizing could one notdraw from it, for everyone?

"You know my bed, my friend, but you will never guess how many things Ihave discovered in it within the last three days, and how much more Ilove it, in consequence. It seems to me to be inhabited, haunted, if Imay say so, by a number of people I never thought of, who, nevertheless, have left something of themselves in that couch. 

"Ah! I cannot understand people who buy new beds, beds to which nomemories or cares are attached. Mine, ours, which is so shabby, and sospacious, must have held many existences in it, from birth to the grave. Think of that, my friend; think of it all; review all those lives, agreat part of which was spent between these four posts, surrounded bythese hangings embroidered by human figures, which have seen so manythings. What have they seen during the three centuries since they werefirst put up?

"Here is a young woman lying on this bed. From time to time she sighs, and then she groans and cries out; her mother is with her, and presentlya little creature that makes a noise like a cat mewing, and which is allshriveled and wrinkled, comes from her. It is a male child to which shehas given birth, and the young mother feels happy in spite of her pain;she is nearly suffocated with joy at that first cry, and stretches outher arms, and those around her shed tears of pleasure; for that littlemorsel of humanity which has come from her means the continuation of thefamily, the perpetuation of the blood, of the heart, and of the soul ofthe old people, who are looking on, trembling with excitement. 

"And then, here are two lovers, who for the first time are flesh toflesh together in that tabernacle of life. They tremble; but transportedwith delight, they have the delicious sensation of being close together, and by degrees their lips meet. That divine kiss makes them one, thatkiss, which is the gate of a terrestrial heaven, that kiss which speaksof human delights, which continually promises them, announces them, andprecedes them. And their bed is agitated like the tempestuous sea, andit bends and murmurs, and itself seems to become animated and joyous, for the maddening mystery of love is being accomplished on it. What isthere sweeter, what more perfect in this world than those embraces, which make one single being out of two, and which give to both of themat the same moment the same thought, the same expectation, and the samemaddening pleasure, which descends upon them like a celestial anddevouring fire?

"Do you remember those lines from some old poet, which you read to melast year? I do not remember who wrote them, but it may have beenRousard:

 "When you and I in bed shall lie, Lascivious we shall be, Enlaced, playing a thousand tricks, Of lovers, gamesomely. 

"I should like to have that verse embroidered on the top of my bed, where Pyramus and Thisbe are continually looking at me out of theirtapestry eyes. 

"And think of death, my friend; of all those who have breathed out theirlast sigh to God in this bed. For it is also the tomb of hopes ended, the door which closes everything, after having been the one which letsin the world. What cries, what anguish, what sufferings, what groans, how many arms stretched out towards the past; what appeals to happinessthat has vanished for ever; what convulsions, what death-rattles, whatgaping lips and distorted eyes have there not been in this bed, fromwhich I am writing to you, during the three centuries that it hassheltered human beings!

"The bed, you must remember, is the symbol of life; I have discoveredthis within the last three days. There is nothing good except the bed, and are not some of our best moments spent in sleep?

"But then again, we suffer in bed! It is the refuge of those who are illand suffering; a place of repose and comfort for worn-out bodies, and, in a word, the bed is part and parcel of humanity. 

"Many other thoughts have struck me, but I have no time to note themdown for you, and then, should I remember them all? Besides that, I amso tired that I mean to retire to my pillows, stretch myself out at fulllength, and sleep a little. But be sure and come to see me at threeo'clock to-morrow; perhaps I may be better, and able to prove it to you. 

"Good-bye, my friend; here are my hands for you to kiss, and I alsooffer you my lips. "

AN ADVENTURE IN PARIS

Is there any stronger feeling than curiosity in a woman? Oh! Fancyseeing, knowing, touching what one has dreamt about! What would a womannot do for that? When once a woman's eager curiosity is aroused, shewill be guilty of any folly, commit any imprudence, venture uponanything, and recoil from nothing. I am speaking of women who are reallywomen, who are endowed with that triple-bottomed disposition, whichappears to be reasonable and cold on the surface, but whose three secretcompartments are filled. The first, with female uneasiness, which isalways in a state of flutter; the next, with sly tricks which arecolored in imitation of good faith, with those sophistical andformidable tricks of apparently devout women; and the last, with allthose charming, improper acts, with that delightful deceit, exquisiteperfidy, and all those wayward qualities, which drive lovers who arestupidly credulous, to suicide; but which delight others. 

The woman whose adventure I am about to relate, was a little person fromthe provinces, who had been insipidly chaste till then. Her life, whichwas apparently so calm, was spent at home, with a busy husband and twochildren, whom she brought up like an irreproachable woman. But herheart beat with unsatisfied curiosity, and some unknown longing. She wascontinually thinking of Paris, and read the fashionable papers eagerly. The accounts of parties, of the dresses and various entertainments, excited her longing; but, above all, she was strangely agitated by thoseparagraphs which were full of double meaning, by those veils which werehalf raised by clever phrases, and which gave her a glimpse of culpableand ravishing delights, and from her country home, she saw Paris in anapotheosis of magnificent and corrupt luxury. 

And during the long nights, when she dreamt, lulled by the regularsnores of her husband, who was sleeping on his back by her side, with asilk handkerchief tied round his head, she saw in her sleep thosewell-known men whose names appeared on the first page of the newspapersas great stars in the dark skies; and she pictured to herself their lifeof continual excitement, of constant debauches, of orgies such as theyindulged in in ancient Rome, which were horridly voluptuous, withrefinements of sensuality which were so complicated that she could noteven picture them to herself. 

The boulevards seemed to her to be a kind of abyss of human passions, and there could be no doubt that the houses there concealed mysteries ofprodigious love. But she felt that she was growing old, and this, without having known life, except in those regular, horridly monotonous, everyday occupations, which constitute the happiness of the home. Shewas still pretty, for she was well preserved in her tranquil existence, like some winter fruit in a closed cupboard; but she was agitated anddevoured by her secret ardor. She used to ask herself whether she shoulddie without having experienced any of those damning, intoxicating joys, without having plunged once, just once into that flood of Parisianvoluptuousness. 

By dint of much perseverance, she paved the way for a journey to Paris, found a pretext, got some relations to invite her, and as her husbandcould not go with her, she went alone, and as soon as she arrived, sheinvented a reason for remaining for two days, or rather for two nights, if necessary, as she told him that she had met some friends who lived alittle way out of town. 

And then she set out on a voyage of discovery. She went up and down theboulevards, without seeing anything except roving and numbered vice. Shelooked into the large _cafés_, and read the _Agony Column_ of the_Figaro_, which every morning seemed to her like a tocsin, a summons tolove. But nothing put her on the track of those orgies of actors andactresses; nothing revealed to her those temples of debauchery which sheimagined opened at some magic word, like the cave in the _ArabianNights_, or those catacombs in Rome, where the mysteries of a persecutedreligion were secretly celebrated. 

Her relations, who were quite middle-class people, could not introduceher to any of those well-known men with whose names her head was full, and in despair she was thinking of returning, when chance came to heraid. One day, as she was going along the _Rue de la Chaussee d'Antin_, she stopped to look into a shop full of those colored Japaneseknick-knacks, which strike the eye on account of their color. She waslooking at the little ivory buffoons, the tall vases of flaming enamel, and the curious bronzes, when she heard the shop-keeper dilating, withmany bows, on the value of an enormous, pot-bellied, comical figure, which was quite unique, he said, to a little, bald-headed, gray-beardedman. 

Every moment, the shop-keeper repeated his customer's name, which was acelebrated one, in a voice like a trumpet. The other customers, youngwomen and well-dressed gentlemen, gave a swift and furtive, butrespectful glance at the celebrated writer, who was looking admiringlyat the china figure. They were both equally ugly, as ugly as twobrothers who had sprung from the same mother. 

"I will let you have it for a thousand francs, Monsieur Varin, and thatis exactly what it cost me. I should ask anybody else fifteen hundred, but I think a great deal of literary and artistic customers, and havespecial prices for them. They all come to me, Monsieur Varin. Yesterday, Monsieur Busnach bought a large, antique goblet of me, and the other dayI sold two candelabra like this (is it not handsome?) to MonsieurAlexander Dumas. If Monsieur Zola were to see that Japanese figure, hewould buy it immediately, Monsieur Varin. "

The author hesitated in perplexity, as he wanted to have the figure, butthe price was above him, and he thought no more about her looking at himthan if he had been alone in the desert. She came in trembling, with hereyes fixed shamelessly upon him, and she did not even ask herselfwhether he were good-looking, elegant or young. It was Jean Varinhimself, Jean Varin. After a long struggle, and painful hesitation, heput the figure down onto the table. "No, it is too dear, " he said. Theshop-keeper's eloquence redoubled. "Oh! Monsieur Varin, too dear? It isworth two thousand francs, if it is worth a son. " But the man of lettersreplied sadly, still looking at the figure with the enameled eyes: "I donot say it is not; but it is too dear for me. " And thereupon, she, seized by a kind of mad audacity, came forward and said: "What shall youcharge me for the figure?" The shop-keeper, in surprise, replied:"Fifteen hundred francs, Madame. " "I will take it. "

The writer, who had not even noticed her till that moment, turned roundsuddenly; he looked at her from head to foot, with half-closed eyes, observantly, and then he took in the details, as a connoisseur. She wascharming, suddenly animated by that flame which had hitherto beendormant in her. And then, a woman who gives fifteen hundred francs for aknick-knack is not to be met with every day. 

But she was overcome by a feeling of delightful delicacy, and turning tohim, she said in a trembling voice: "Excuse me, Monsieur; no doubt Ihave been rather hasty, as perhaps you had not finally made up yourmind. " He, however, only bowed, and said: "Indeed, I had, Madame. " Andshe, filled with emotion, continued: "Well, Monsieur, if either to-day, or at any other time, you change your mind, you can have this Japanesefigure. I only bought it because you seemed to like it. "

He was visibly flattered, and smiled. "I should much like to find outhow you know who I am?" he said. Then she told him how she admired him, and became quite eloquent as she quoted his works, and while they weretalking he rested his arms on a table, and fixed his bright eyes uponher, trying to make out who and what she really was. But the shop-keeper, who was pleased to have that living puff of his goods, called out, fromthe other end of the shop: "Just look at this, Monsieur Varin; is it notbeautiful?"

And then everyone looked round, and she almost trembled with pleasure atbeing seen talking so intimately with such a well-known man. 

At last, however, intoxicated, as it were, by her feelings, she grewbold, like a general does, who is going to give the order for anassault. "Monsieur, " she said, "will you do me a great, a very greatpleasure? Allow me to offer you this funny Japanese figure, as akeepsake from a woman who admires you passionately, and whom you haveseen for ten minutes. "

Of course he refused, and she persisted, but still he resisted heroffer, at which he was much amused, and at which he laughed heartily;but that only made her more obstinate, and she said: "Very well, then, Ishall take it to your house immediately. Where do you live?"

He refused to give her his address, but she got it from the shop-keeper, and when she had paid for her purchase, she ran out to take a cab. Thewriter went after her, as he did not wish to accept a present for whichhe could not possibly account. He reached her just as she was jumpinginto the vehicle, and getting in after her, he almost fell onto her, andthen tumbled onto the bottom of the cab as it started. He picked himselfup, however, and sat down by her side, feeling very much annoyed. 

It was no good for him to insist and to beg her; she showed herselfintractable, and when they got to the door, she stated her conditions. "I will undertake not to leave this with you, " she said, "if you willpromise to do all I want to-day. " And the whole affair seemed so funnyto him that he agreed. "What do you generally do at this time?" sheasked him; and after hesitating for a few moments, he replied: "Igenerally go for a walk. " "Very well, then, we will go to the _Bois deBoulogne_!" she said, in a resolute voice, and they started. 

He was obliged to tell her the names of all the well-known women, pureor impure, with every detail about them; their life, their habits, theirprivate affairs, and their vices; and when it was getting dusk, she saidto him: "What do you do every day at this time?" "I have some absinthe, "he replied, with a laugh. "Very well, then, Monsieur, " she went on, seriously, "let us go and have some absinthe. "

They went into a large _café_ on the boulevard which he frequented, andwhere he met some of his colleagues, whom he introduced to her. She washalf mad with pleasure, and she kept saying to herself: "At last! Atlast!" But time went on, and she observed that she supposed it must beabout his dinner time, and she suggested that they should go and dine. When they left _Bignon's_, after dinner, she wanted to know what he didin the evening, and looking at her fixedly, he replied: "That depends;sometimes I go to the theater. " "Very well, then, Monsieur; let us go tothe theater. "

They went to the Vaudeville with an order, thanks to him, and, to hergreat pride, the whole house saw her sitting by his side, in the balconystalls. 

When the play was over, he gallantly kissed her hand, and said: "It onlyremains for me to thank you for this delightful day.... " But sheinterrupted him: "What do you do at this time, every night?" "Why ... Why ... I go home. " She began to laugh, a little tremulous laugh. "Verywell, Monsieur ... Let us go to your rooms. "

They did not say anything more. She shivered occasionally, from head tofoot, feeling inclined to stay, and inclined to run away, but with afixed determination, after all, to see it out to the end. She was soexcited that she had to hold onto the baluster as she went upstairs, andhe came up behind her, with a wax match in his hand. 

As soon as they were in the room, she undressed herself quickly, andretired without saying a word, and then she waited for him, coweringagainst the wall. But she was as simple as it was possible for aprovincial lawyer's wife to be, and he was more exacting than a paschawith three tails, and so they did not at all understand each other. Atlast, however, he went to sleep, and the night passed, and the silencewas only disturbed by the _tick-tack_ of the clock, and she, lyingmotionless, thought of her conjugal nights; and by the light of theChinese lantern, she looked, nearly heart-broken, at the little fat manlying on his back, whose round stomach raised up the bed-clothes like aballoon filled with gas. He snored with the noise of a wheezy organpipe, with prolonged snorts and comic chokings. His few hairs profitedby his sleep, to stand up in a very strange way, as if they were tiredof having been fastened for so long to that pate, whose bareness theywere trying to cover, and a small stream of saliva was running out ofone corner of his half-open mouth. 

At last the daylight appeared through the drawn blinds; so she got upand dressed herself without making any noise, and she had already halfopened the door, when she made the lock creak, and he woke up and rubbedhis eyes. He was some moments before he quite came to himself, and then, when he remembered all that had happened, he said: "What! Are you goingalready?" She remained standing, in some confusion, and then she said, in a hesitating voice: "Yes, of course; it is morning... "

Then he sat up, and said: "Look here, I have something to ask you, in myturn. " And as she did not reply, he went on: "You have surprised me mostconfoundedly since yesterday. Be open, and tell me why you did it all, for upon my word I cannot understand it in the least. " She went close upto him, blushing like as if she had been a virgin, and said: "I wantedto know ... What ... What vice ... Really was, ... And ... Well ... Well, it is not at all funny. "

And she ran out of the room, and downstairs into the street. 

A number of sweepers were busy in the streets, brushing the pavements, the roadway, and sweeping everything on one side. With the same regularmotion, the motion of mowers in a meadow, they pushed the mud in frontof them in a semi-circle, and she met them in every street, like dancingpuppets, walking automatically with their swaying motion. And it seemedto her as if something had been swept out of her; as if her over-exciteddreams had been pushed into the gutter, or into the drain, and so shewent home, out of breath, and very cold, and all that she could rememberwas the sensation of the motion of those brooms sweeping the streets ofParis in the early morning. 

As soon as she got into her room, she threw herself onto her bed andcried. 

MADAME BAPTISTE

When I went into the waiting-room at the station at Loubain, the firstthing I did was to look at the clock, and I found that I had two hoursand ten minutes to wait for the Paris express. 

I felt suddenly tired, as if I had walked twenty miles, and then Ilooked about me as if I could find some means of killing the time on thestation walls, and at last I went out again, and stopped outside thegates of the station, racking my brains to find something to do. Thestreet, which was a kind of a boulevard, planted with acacias, betweentwo rows of houses of unequal shape and different styles ofarchitecture, houses such as one only sees in a small town, ascended aslight hill, and at the extreme end of it, there were some trees, as ifit ended in a park. 

From time to time, a cat crossed the street, and jumped over thegutters, carefully. A cur sniffed at every tree, and hunted forfragments from the kitchens, but I did not see a single human being, andI felt listless and disheartened. What could I do with myself? I wasalready thinking of the inevitable and interminable visit to the small_café_ at the railway station, where I should have to sit over a glassof undrinkable beer and the illegible newspaper, when I saw a funeralprocession coming out of a side street into the one in which I was, andthe sight of the hearse was a relief to me. It would, at any rate, giveme something to do for ten minutes. Suddenly, however, my curiosity wasaroused. The corpse was followed by eight gentlemen, one of whom wasweeping, while the others were chatting together, but there was nopriest, and I thought to myself:

"This is a non-religious funeral, " but then I reflected that a town likeLoubain must contain at least a hundred free-thinkers, who would havemade a point of making a manifestation. What could it be then? The rapidpace of the procession clearly proved that the body was to be buriedwithout ceremony, and, consequently, without the intervention ofreligion. 

My idle curiosity framed the most complicated suppositions, and as thehearse passed me, a strange idea struck me, which was to follow it, withthe eight gentlemen. That would take up my time for an hour, at least, and I, accordingly, walked with the others, with a sad look on my face, and on seeing this, the two last turned round in surprise, and thenspoke to each other in a low voice. 

No doubt they were asking each other whether I belonged to the town, andthen they consulted the two in front of them, who stared at me in turn. This close attention which they paid me, annoyed me, and to put an endto it, I went up to them, and, after bowing, I said:

"I beg your pardon, gentlemen, for interrupting your conversation, butseeing a civil funeral, I have followed it, although I did not know thedeceased gentleman whom you are accompanying. "

"It is a woman, " one of them said. 

I was much surprised at hearing this, and asked:

"But it is a civil funeral, is it not?"

The other gentleman, who evidently wished to tell me all about it, thensaid: "Yes and no. The clergy have refused to allow us the use of thechurch. "

On hearing that I uttered a prolonged _A--h_! of astonishment. I couldnot understand it at all, but my obliging neighbor continued:

"It is rather a long story. This young woman committed suicide, and thatis the reason why she cannot be buried with any religious ceremony. Thegentleman who is walking first, and who is crying, is her husband. "

I replied with some hesitation:

"You surprise and interest me very much, Monsieur. Shall I be indiscreetif I ask you to tell me the facts of the case? If I am troubling you, think that I have said nothing about the matter. "

The gentleman took my arm familiarly. 

"Not at all, not at all. Let us stop a little behind the others, and Iwill tell it you, although it is a very sad story. We have plenty oftime before getting to the cemetery, whose trees you see up yonder, forit is a stiff pull up this hill. "

And he began:

"This young woman, Madame Paul Hamot, was the daughter of a wealthymerchant in the neighborhood, Monsieur Fontanelle. When she was a merechild of eleven, she had a terrible adventure; a footman violated her. She nearly died, in consequence, and the wretch's brutality betrayedhim. A terrible criminal case was the result, and it was proved that forthree months the poor young martyr had been the victim of that brute'sdisgraceful practices, and he was sentenced to penal servitude for life. 

"The little girl grew up stigmatized by disgrace, isolated without anycompanions, and grown-up people would scarcely kiss her, for theythought that they would soil their lips if they touched her forehead, and she became a sort of monster, a phenomenon to all the town. Peoplesaid to each other in a whisper: 'You know, little Fontanelle, ' andeverybody turned away in the streets when she passed. Her parents couldnot even get a nurse to take her out for a walk, as the other servantsheld aloof from her, as if contact with her would poison everybody whocame near her. 

"It was pitiable to see the poor child. She remained quite by herself, standing by her maid, and looking at the other children amusingthemselves. Sometimes, yielding to an irresistible desire to mix withthe other children, she advanced, timidly, with nervous gestures, andmingled with a group, with furtive steps, as if conscious of her owninfamy. And, immediately, the mothers, aunts and nurses used to comerunning from every seat, who took the children entrusted to their careby the hand and dragged them brutally away. 

"Little Fontanelle remained isolated, wretched, without understandingwhat it meant, and then she began to cry, nearly heart-broken withgrief, and then she used to run and hide her head in her nurse's lap, sobbing. 

"As she grew up, it was worse still. They kept the girls from her, as ifshe were stricken with the plague. Remember that she had nothing tolearn, nothing; that she no longer had the right to the symbolicalwreath of orange-flowers; that almost before she could read, she hadpenetrated that redoubtable mystery, which mothers scarcely allow theirdaughters to guess, trembling as they enlighten them, on the night oftheir marriage. 

"When she went through the streets, always accompanied by her governess, as if her parents feared some fresh, terrible adventure, with her eyescast down under the load of that mysterious disgrace, which she felt wasalways weighing upon her, the other girls, who were not nearly soinnocent as people thought, whispered and giggled as they looked at herknowingly, and immediately turned their heads absently, if she happenedto look at them. People scarcely greeted her; only a few men bowed toher, and the mothers pretended not to see her, whilst some youngblackguards called her _Madame Baptiste_, after the name of the footmanwho had outraged and ruined her. 

"Nobody knew the secret torture of her mind, for she hardly ever spoke, and never laughed, and her parents themselves appeared uncomfortable inher presence, as if they bore her a constant grudge for some irreparablefault. 

"An honest man would not willingly give his hand to a liberated convict, would he, even if that convict were his own son? And Monsieur and MadameFontanelle looked on their daughter as they would have done on a son whohad just been released from the hulks. She was pretty and pale, tall, slender, distinguished-looking, and she would have pleased me very much, Monsieur, but for that unfortunate affair. 

"Well, when a new sub-prefect was appointed here eighteen months ago, hebrought his private secretary with him. He was a queer sort of fellow, who had lived in the _Latin Quarter_[21], it appears. He sawMademoiselle Fontanelle, and fell in love with her, and when told ofwhat occurred, he merely said: 'Bah! That is just a guarantee for thefuture, and I would rather it should have happened before I married her, than afterwards. I shall sleep tranquilly with that woman. '

[Footnote 21: The students' quarter in France, where so many of themlead rackety, fast lives. --TRANSLATOR. ]

"He paid his addresses to her, asked for her hand, and married her, andthen, not being deficient in boldness, he paid wedding-calls, [22] as ifnothing had happened. Some people returned them, others did not, but, atlast, the affair began to be forgotten, and she took her proper place insociety. 

[Footnote 22: In France and Germany, the newly-married couple pay thewedding-calls, which is the direct opposite to our custom. --TRANSLATOR. ]

"She adored her husband as if he had been a god, for, you must remember, he had restored her to honor and to social life, that he had bravedpublic opinion, faced insults, and, in a word, performed such acourageous act, as few men would accomplish, and she felt the mostexalted and uneasy love for him. 

"When she became pregnant, and it was known, the most particular peopleand the greatest sticklers opened their doors to her, as if she had beendefinitely purified by maternity. 

"It is funny, but so it is, and thus everything was going on as well aspossible, when, the other day, was the feast of the patron saint of ourtown. The Prefect, surrounded by his staff and the authorities, presidedat the musical competition, and when he had finished his speech, thedistribution of medals began, which Paul Hamot, his private secretary, handed to those who were entitled to them. 

"As you know, there are always jealousies and rivalries, which makepeople forget all propriety. All the ladies of the town were there onthe platform, and, in his proper turn, the bandmaster from the villageof Mourmillon came up. This band was only to receive a second-classmedal, for one cannot give first-class medals to everybody, can one? Butwhen the private secretary handed him his badge, the man threw it in hisface and exclaimed:

"'You may keep your medal for Baptiste. You owe him a first-class one, also, just as you do me. '

"There were a number of people there who began to laugh. The common herdare neither charitable nor refined, and every eye was turned towardsthat poor lady. Have you ever seen a woman going mad, Monsieur? Well, wewere present at the sight! She got up and fell back on her chair threetimes following, as if she had wished to make her escape, but saw thatshe could not make her way through the crowd, and then another voice inthe crowd exclaimed:

"'Oh I Oh! Madame Baptiste!'

"And a great uproar, partly laughter, and partly indignation, arose. Theword was repeated over and over again; people stood on tip-toe to seethe unhappy woman's face; husbands lifted their wives up in their arms, so that they might see the unhappy woman's face, and people asked:

"'Which is she? The one in blue?'

"The boys crowed like cocks, and laughter was heard all over the place. 

"She did not move now on her state chair, just as if she had been putthere for the crowd to look at. She could not move, nor disappear, norhide her face. Her eyelids blinked quickly, as if a vivid light wereshining in her face, and she panted like a horse that is going up asteep hill, so that it almost broke one's heart to see it. Meanwhile, however, Monsieur Hamot had seized the ruffian by the throat, and theywere rolling on the ground together, amidst a scene of indescribableconfusion, and the ceremony was interrupted. 

"An hour later, as the Hamots were returning home, the young woman, whohad not uttered a word since the insult, but who was trembling as if allher nerves had been set in motion by springs, suddenly sprang on theparapet of the bridge, and threw herself into the river, before herhusband could prevent her. The water is very deep under the arches, andit was two hours before her body was recovered. Of course, she wasdead. "

The narrator stopped, and then added:

"It was, perhaps, the best thing she could do in her position. There aresome things which cannot be wiped out, and now you understand why theclergy refused to have her taken into church. Ah! If it had been areligious funeral, the whole town would have been present, but you canunderstand that her suicide added to the other affair, and made familiesabstain from attending her funeral; and then, it is not an easy matter, here, to attend a funeral which is performed without religious rites. "

We passed through the cemetery gates and I waited, much moved by what Ihad heard, until the coffin had been lowered into the grave, before Iwent up to the poor fellow who was sobbing violently, to press his handvigorously. He looked at me in surprise through his tears, and thensaid:

"Thank you, Monsieur. " And I was not sorry that I had followed thefuneral. 

HAPPINESS

The sky was blue, with light clouds that looked like swans slowlysailing on the waters of a lake, and the atmosphere was so warm, sosaturated with the subtle odors of the mimosas, that Madame deViellemont ordered coffee to be served on the terrace which overlookedthe sea. 

And while the steam rose from the delicate china cups, one felt analmost inexpressible pleasure in looking at the sails, which weregradually becoming lost in the mysterious distance, and at the almostmotionless sea, which had the sheen of jewels, which attracted the eyeslike the looks of a dreamy woman. 

Monsieur de Pardeillac, who had arrived from Paris, fresh from theremembrance of the last election there, from that Carnival of variegatedposters, which for weeks had imparted the strange aspect of someOriental bazaar to the whole city, had just been relating the victory of_The General_, and went on to say that those who had thought that thegame was lost, were beginning to hope again. 

After listening to him, old Count de Lancolme, who had spent his wholelife in rummaging libraries, and who had certainly compiled moremanuscripts than any Benedectine friar, shook his bald head, andexclaimed in his shrill, rather mocking voice:

"Will you allow me to tell you a very old story, which has just comeinto my head, while you were speaking, my dear friend, which I readformerly in an old Italian city, though I forget at this moment where itwas?

"It happened in the fifteenth century, which is far removed from ourepoch, but you shall judge for yourselves whether it might not havehappened yesterday. 

"Since the day, when mad with rage and rebellion, the town had made abonfire of the Ducal palace, and had ignominiously expelled thatpatrician who had been their _podestat_[23], as if he had been somevicious scoundrel, had thrust his lovely daughter into a convent, andhad forced his sons, who might have claimed their parental heritage, andhave again imposed the abhorred yoke upon them, into a monastery, thetown had never known any prosperous times. One after another the shopsclosed, and money became as scarce as if there had been an invasion ofbarbarian hordes, who had emptied the State treasury, and stolen thelast gold coin. 

[Footnote 23: Venetian and Genoese magistrate. --TRANSLATOR. ]

"The poor people were in abject misery, and in vain held out their handsto passers-by under the church porches, and in the squares, while onlythe watchmen disturbed the silence of the starlit nights, by theirmonotonous and melancholy call, which announced the flight of the hoursas they passed. 

"There were no more serenades; no longer did viols and flutes troublethe slumbers of the lovers' choice; no longer were amorous arms thrownround women's supple waists, nor were bottles of red wine put to cool inthe fountains under the trees. There were no more love adventures, tothe rhythm of laughter and of kisses; nothing but heavy, monotonousweariness, and the anxiety as to what the next day might bring forth, and ceaseless, unbridled ambitions and lusts. 

"The palaces were deserted, one by one, as if the plague were raging, and the nobility had fled to Florence and to Rome. In the beginning, thecommon people, artisans and shop-keepers had installed themselves inpower, as in a conquered city, and had seized posts of honor andwell-paid offices, and had sacked the Treasury with their greedy andeager hands. After them, came the middle classes, and those solemnupstarts and hypocrites, like leathern bottles blown out with wind, acting the tyrant and lying without the least shame, disowned theirformer promises, and would soon have given the finishing stroke to theunfortunate city, which was already at its last shifts. 

"Discontent was increasing, and the _sbirri_[24] could scarcely findtime to tear the seditious placards, which had been posted up by unknownhands, from the walls. 

[Footnote 24: Italian police officers. --TRANSLATOR]

"But now that the old _podestat_ had died in exile, worn out with grief, and that his children, who had been brought up under monastic rules, andwere accustomed to nothing so much as to praying, thought only of theirown salvation, there was nobody who could take his place. 

"And so these kinglets profited by the occasion to strut about at theirease like great nobles, to cram themselves with luxurious meals, toincrease their property by degrees, to put everything up for sale, andto get rid of those who, later on, could have called for accounts, andhave nailed them to the pillory by their ears. 

"Their arrogance knew no bounds, and when they were questioned abouttheir acts, they only replied by menaces or raillery, and this state ofaffairs lasted for twenty years, when, as war was imminent with Lucca, the Council raised troops and enrolled mercenaries. Several battles werefought in which the enemy was beaten and was obliged to flee, abandoningtheir colors, their arms, prisoners, and all the booty in their camp. 

"The man who had led the soldiers from battle, whom they had acclaimedas triumphant and laurel-crowned Caesar, around their campfires, was apoor _condottiere_[25], who possessed nothing in the world except hisclothes, his buff jerkin and his heavy sword. 

[Footnote 25: Italian mercenary or free-lance, in the MiddleAges. --TRANSLATOR. ]

"They called him _Hercules_, on account of his strong muscles, hisimposing build, and his large head, and also _Malavista_, because inthose butcheries he had no pity, no weakness, but seemed, with his greatmurderous arms, as if he had the long reach of death itself. He hadneither title, deeds, fortune, nor relations, for he had been born onenight in the tent of a female camp follower; for a long time, an old, broken drum had been his cradle, and he had grown up anyhow, withoutknowing those maternal kisses and endearments that warm the heart, orthe pleasure of not always sleeping on a hard bed, or of always eatingtough beef, or of being obliged to tighten his sword belt when luck hadturned like a weathercock when the wind shifts, and a man would gladlygive all his share of the next booty for a moldy crust of bread and aglass of water. 

"He was a simple and a brave man, whose heart was as virgin as somevirgin shore, on which no human foot has ever yet left its imprint. 

"The Chiefs of the Council were imprudent enough to summon HerculesMalavista within the walls of the town, and to celebrate his arrivalwith almost imperial splendor, more, however, to deceive the people andto regain their waning popularity by means of some one else, by aceremony copied from those of Pagan Rome, than to honor and recompensethe services of a soldier whom they despised at the bottom of theirhearts. 

"The bells rang a full peal, and the archbishop and clergy and choirboys went to meet the Captain, singing psalms and hymns of joy, as if itmight have been Easter. The streets and squares were strewn withbranches of box roses and marjoram, while the meanest homes weredecorated with flags, and hung with drapery and rich stuffs. 

"The conqueror came in through Trajan's gate, bare-headed, and with thesymbolical golden laurel wreath on his head; and sitting on his horse, that was as black as a starless night, he appeared even taller, morevigorous and more masculine than he really was. He had a joyous andtranquil smile on his lips, and a hidden fire was burning in his eyes, and his soldiers bore the flags and the trophies that he had gained, before him, and behind him there was a noise of clashing partisans andcross-bows, and of loud voices shouting _vivats_ in his honor. 

"In this fashion he traversed all the quarters of the town, and even thesuburbs. The women thought him handsome and proud, blew kisses to him, and held up their children so that they might see him, and he mighttouch them, and the men cheered him, and looked at him with emotion, andmany of them reflected and dreamt about that bright, unknown man, whoappeared to be surrounded by a halo of glory. 

"The members of the Council began to perceive the extent of the almostirreparable fault that they had committed, and did not know what to doin order to ward off the danger by which they were menaced, and to ridthemselves of a guest who was quite ready to become their master. Theysaw clearly that their hours were numbered, that they were approachingthat fatal period at which rioting becomes imminent, when the leadersare carried away with it, like pieces of straw in a swift current. 

"Hercules could not show himself in public without being received withshouts of acclamation and noisy greetings, and deputations from thenobility, as well as from the people, came repeatedly and told him thathe had only to make a sign and to say a word, for his name to be inevery mouth, and for his authority to be accepted. They begged him ontheir knees to accept the supreme authority, as though he would beconferring a favor on them, but the free-lance did not seem tounderstand them, and repelled their offers with the superb indifferenceof a soldier who has nothing to do with the people or a crown. 

"At length, however, his resistance grew weaker; he felt theintoxication of power, and grew accustomed to the idea of holding thelives of thousands in his hands, of having a palace, arsenals full ofarms, chests full of gold, ships which he could send on adventurouscruises wherever he pleased, and of governing that city, with all itshouses and all its churches, and of being a leading figure at all grandfunctions in the cathedral. 

"The shop-keepers and merchants were overcome by terror at this, andbowed before the shadow of that great sword, which might sweep them allaway and upset their false weights and scales. So they assembledsecretly in a monastery of the Carmelite friars outside the gates of thecity, and a short time afterwards the weaver Marconelli, and themoney-changer Rippone brought Giaconda, who was one of the mostbeautiful courtesans in Venice, and who knew every secret in the _Art ofLove_, and whose kisses were a foretaste of Paradise, back with themfrom that city. She soon managed to touch the soldier with her delicate, fair skin, to make him inhale its bewitching odor in close proximity, and to dazzle him with her large, dark eyes, in which the reflection ofstars seemed to shine, and when he had once tasted that feast of love, and that heavy wine of kisses, when he had clasped that pink and whitebody in his arms, and had listened to that voice which sounded as softas music, and which promised him eternities of joy, and vowed to himeternities of pleasures, Hercules lost his head, and forgot his dreamsand his oaths. 

"Why lose precious hours in conspiring, in deluding himself withchimeras; why risk his life when he loved and was loved, and when theminutes were all too short, when he would have wished never to detachhis lips from those of the woman he loved?

"And so he did whatever Gioconda demanded. 

"They fled from the city, without even telling the sentinels who were onguard before his palace. They went far, far away, as they could not findany retreat that was sufficiently unknown and hidden, and at last theystopped at a small, quiet fishing village, where there were gardens fullof lemon trees, where the deserted beach looked as if it were coveredwith gold, and where the sea was a deep blue until it was lost in thedistance. And while the captain and the courtesan loved each other andwore themselves out with pleasure--with the enchantment of the sea closeto them--the irritated citizens, whom he had left were clamoring fortheir idol, were indignant at his desertion, and tore up the pavingstones in the streets, to stone the man who had betrayed theirconfidence and worship. 

"And they pulled his statue down from its pedestal, amidst spitefulsongs and jokes, and the members of the Council breathed again ... Asthey were no longer afraid of the great sword. "