Yvette

by

Henri Rene Guy de Maupassant

CONTENTS

 I. The Initiation of Saval II. Bougival and Love III. Enlightenment IV. From Emotion to Philosophy

CHAPTER I. 

The Initiation of Saval

As they were leaving the Cafe Riche, Jean de Servigny said to LeonSaval: "If you don't object, let us walk. The weather is too fine totake a cab. "

His friend answered: "I would like nothing better. "

Jean replied: "It is hardly eleven o'clock. We shall arrive muchbefore midnight, so let us go slowly. "

A restless crowd was moving along the boulevard, that throngpeculiar to summer nights, drinking, chatting, and flowing like ariver, filled with a sense of comfort and joy. Here and there a cafethrew a flood of light upon a knot of patrons drinking at littletables on the sidewalk, which were covered with bottles and glasses, hindering the passing of the hurrying multitude. On the pavement thecabs with their red, blue, or green lights dashed by, showing for asecond, in the glimmer, the thin shadow of the horse, the raisedprofile of the coachman, and the dark box of the carriage. The cabsof the Urbaine Company made clear and rapid spots when their yellowpanels were struck by the light. 

The two friends walked with slow steps, cigars in their mouths, inevening dress and overcoats on their arms, with a flower in theirbuttonholes, and their hats a trifle on one side, as men willcarelessly wear them sometimes, after they have dined well and theair is mild. 

They had been linked together since their college days by a close, devoted, and firm affection. Jean de Servigny, small, slender, atrifle bald, rather frail, with elegance of mien, curled mustache, bright eyes, and fine lips, was a man who seemed born and bred uponthe boulevard. He was tireless in spite of his languid air, strongin spite of his pallor, one of those slight Parisians to whomgymnastic exercise, fencing, cold shower and hot baths give anervous, artificial strength. He was known by his marriage as wellas by his wit, his fortune, his connections, and by thatsociability, amiability, and fashionable gallantry peculiar tocertain men. 

A true Parisian, furthermore, light, sceptical, changeable, captivating, energetic, and irresolute, capable of everything and ofnothing; selfish by principle and generous on occasion, he livedmoderately upon his income, and amused himself with hygiene. Indifferent and passionate, he gave himself rein and drew backconstantly, impelled by conflicting instincts, yielding to all, andthen obeying, in the end, his own shrewd man-about-town judgment, whose weather-vane logic consisted in following the wind and drawingprofit from circumstances without taking the trouble to originatethem. 

His companion, Leon Saval, rich also, was one of those superb andcolossal figures who make women turn around in the streets to lookat them. He gave the idea of a statue turned into a man, a type of arace, like those sculptured forms which are sent to the Salons. Toohandsome, too tall, too big, too strong, he sinned a little from theexcess of everything, the excess of his qualities. He had on handcountless affairs of passion. 

As they reached the Vaudeville theater, he asked: "Have you warnedthat lady that you are going to take me to her house to see her?"

Servigny began to laugh: "Forewarn the Marquise Obardi! Do you warnan omnibus driver that you shall enter his stage at the corner ofthe boulevard?"

Saval, a little perplexed, inquired: "What sort of person is thislady?"

His friend replied: "An upstart, a charming hussy, who came from noone knows where, who made her appearance one day, nobody knows how, among the adventuresses of Paris, knowing perfectly well how to takecare of herself. Besides, what difference does it make to us? Theysay that her real name, her maiden name--for she still has everyclaim to the title of maiden except that of innocence--is OctaviaBardin, from which she constructs the name Obardi by prefixing thefirst letter of her first name and dropping the last letter of thelast name. "

"Moreover, she is a lovable woman, and you, from your physique, areinevitably bound to become her lover. Hercules is not introducedinto Messalina's home without making some disturbance. NeverthelessI make bold to add that if there is free entrance to this house, just as there is in bazaars, you are not exactly compelled to buywhat is for sale. Love and cards are on the programme, but nobodycompels you to take up with either. And the exit is as free as theentrance. "

"She settled down in the Etoile district, a suspicious neighborhood, three years ago, and opened her drawing-room to that froth of thecontinents which comes to Paris to practice its various formidableand criminal talents. "

"I don't remember just how I went to her house. I went as we all go, because there is card playing, because the women are compliant, andthe men dishonest. I love that social mob of buccaneers withdecorations of all sorts of orders, all titled, and all entirelyunknown at their embassies, except to the spies. They are alwaysdragging in the subject of honor, quoting the list of theirancestors on the slightest provocation, and telling the story oftheir life at every opportunity, braggarts, liars, sharpers, dangerous as their cards, false as their names, brave because theyhave to be, like the assassins who can not pluck their victimsexcept by exposing their own lives. In a word, it is the aristocracyof the bagnio. "

"I like them. They are interesting to fathom and to know, amusing tolisten to, often witty, never commonplace as the ordinary Frenchguests. Their women are always pretty, with a little flavor offoreign knavery, with the mystery of their past existence, half ofwhich, perhaps, spent in a House of Correction. They generally havefine eyes and glorious hair, the true physique of the profession, anintoxicating grace, a seductiveness which drives men to folly, anunwholesome, irresistible charm! They conquer like the highwaymen ofold. They are rapacious creatures; true birds of prey. I like them, too. "

"The Marquise Obardi is one of the type of these elegantgood-for-nothings. Ripe and pretty, with a feline charm, you can seethat she is vicious to the marrow. Everybody has a good time at herhouse, with cards, dancing, and suppers; in fact there is everythingwhich goes to make up the pleasures of fashionable society life. "

"Have you ever been or are you now her lover?" Leon Saval asked. 

"I have not been her lover, I am not now, and I never shall be. Ionly go to the house to see her daughter. "

"Ah! She has a daughter, then?"

"A daughter! A marvel, my dear man. She is the principal attractionof the den to-day. Tall, magnificent, just ripe, eighteen years old, as fair as her mother is dark, always merry, always ready for anentertainment, always laughing, and ready to dance like mad. Whowill be the lucky man, to capture her, or who has already done so?Nobody can tell that. She has ten of us in her train, all hoping. "

"Such a daughter in the hands of a woman like the Marquise is afortune. And they play the game together, the two charmers. No oneknows just what they are planning. Perhaps they are waiting for abetter bargain than I should prove. But I tell you that I shallclose the bargain if I ever get a chance. "

"That girl Yvette absolutely baffles me, moreover. She is a mystery. If she is not the most complete monster of astuteness and perversitythat I have ever seen, she certainly is the most marvelousphenomenon of innocence that can be imagined. She lives in thatatmosphere of infamy with a calm and triumphing ease which is eitherwonderfully profligate or entirely artless. Strange scion of anadventuress, cast upon the muck-heap of that set, like a magnificentplant nurtured upon corruption, or rather like the daughter of somenoble race, of some great artist, or of some grand lord, of someprince or dethroned king, tossed some evening into her mother'sarms, nobody can make out what she is nor what she thinks. But youare going to see her. "

Saval began to laugh and said: "You are in love with her. "

"No. I am on the list, which is not precisely the same thing. I willintroduce you to my most serious rivals. But the chances are in myfavor. I am in the lead, and some little distinction is shown tome. "

"You are in love, " Saval repeated. 

"No. She disquiets me, seduces and disturbs me, attracts andfrightens me away. I mistrust her as I would a trap, and I long forher as I long for a sherbet when I am thirsty. I yield to her charm, and I only approach her with the apprehension that I would feelconcerning a man who was known to be a skillful thief. To herpresence I have an irrational impulse toward belief in her possiblepurity and a very reasonable mistrust of her not less probabletrickery. I feel myself in contact with an abnormal being, beyondthe pale of natural laws, an exquisite or detestable creature--Idon't know which. "

For the third time Saval said: "I tell you that you are in love. Youspeak of her with the magniloquence of a poet and the feeling of atroubadour. Come, search your heart, and confess. "

Servigny walked a few steps without answering. Then he replied:

"That is possible, after all. In any case, she fills my mind almostcontinually. Yes, perhaps I am in love. I dream about her too much. I think of her when I am asleep and when I awake--that is surely agrave indication. Her face follows me, accompanies me ceaselessly, ever before me, around me, with me. Is this love, this physicalinfatuation? Her features are so stamped upon my vision that I seeher the moment I shut my eyes. My heart beats quickly every time Ilook at her, I don't deny it. "

"So I am in love with her, but in a queer fashion. I have thestrongest desire for her, and yet the idea of making her my wifewould seem to me a folly, a piece of stupidity, a monstrous thing:And I have a little fear of her, as well, the fear which a birdfeels over which a hawk is hovering. "

"And again I am jealous of her, jealous of all of which I amignorant in her incomprehensible heart. I am always wondering: 'Isshe a charming youngster or a wretched jade?' She says things thatwould make an army shudder; but so does a parrot. She is at times soindiscreet and yet modest that I am forced to believe in herspotless purity, and again so incredibly artless that I must suspectthat she has never been chaste. She allures me, excites me, like awoman of a certain category, and at the same time acts like animpeccable virgin. She seems to love me and yet makes fun of me; shedeports herself in public as if she were my mistress and treats mein private as if I were her brother or footman. "

"There are times when I fancy that she has as many lovers as hermother. And at other times I imagine that she suspects absolutelynothing of that sort of life, you understand. Furthermore, she is agreat novel reader. I am at present, while awaiting somethingbetter, her book purveyor. She calls me her 'librarian. ' Every weekthe New Book Store sends her, on my orders, everything new that hasappeared, and I believe that she reads everything at random. It mustmake a strange sort of mixture in her head. "

"That kind of literary hasty-pudding accounts perhaps for some ofthe girl's peculiar ways. When a young woman looks at existencethrough the medium of fifteen thousand novels, she must see it in astrange light, and construct queer ideas about matters and things ingeneral. As for me, I am waiting. It is certain at any rate that Inever have had for any other woman the devotion which I have had forher. And still it is quite certain that I shall never marry her. Soif she has had numbers, I shall swell the number. And if she hasnot, I shall take the first ticket, just as I would do for a streetcar. "

"The case is very simple. Of course, she will never marry. Who inthe world would marry the Marquise Obardi's daughter, the child ofOctavia Bardin? Nobody, for a thousand reasons. Where would theyever find a husband for her? In society? Never. The mother's houseis a sort of liberty-hall whose patronage is attracted by thedaughter. Girls don't get married under those conditions. "

"Would she find a husband among the trades-people? Still less wouldthat be possible. And besides the Marquise is not the woman to makea bad bargain; she will give Yvette only to a man of high position, and that man she will never discover. "

"Then perhaps she will look among the common people. Still lesslikely. There is no solution of the problem, then. This young ladybelongs neither to society, nor to the tradesmen's class, nor to thecommon people, and she can never enter any of these ranks bymarriage. "

"She belongs through her mother, her birth, her education, herinheritance, her manners, and her customs, to the vortex of the mostrapid life of Paris. She can never escape it, save by becoming anun, which is not at all probable with her manners and tastes. Shehas only one possible career, a life of pleasure. She will come toit sooner or later, if indeed she has not already begun to tread itsprimrose path. She cannot escape her fate. From being a young girlshe will take the inevitable step, quite simply. And I would like tobe the pivot of this transformation. "

"I am waiting. There are many lovers. You will see among them aFrenchman, Monsieur de Belvigne; a Russian, called Prince Kravalow, and an Italian, Chevalier Valreali, who have all announced theircandidacies and who are consequently maneuvering to the best oftheir ability. In addition to these there are several freebooters ofless importance. The Marquise waits and watches. But I think thatshe has views about me. She knows that I am very rich, and she makesless of the others. "

"Her drawing-room is, moreover, the most astounding that I know of, in such, exhibitions. You even meet very decent men there, likeourselves. As for the women, she has culled the best there is fromthe basket of pickpockets. Nobody knows where she found them. It isa set apart from Bohemia, apart from everything. She has had oneinspiration showing genius, and that is the knack of selectingespecially those adventuresses who have children, generally girls. So that a fool might believe that in her house he was amongrespectable women!" They had reached the avenue of the Champs-Elysees. A gentle breeze softly stirred the leaves and touched the faces ofpassers-by, like the breaths of a giant fan, waving somewhere inthe sky. Silent shadows wandered beneath the trees; others, onbenches, made a dark spot. And these shadows spoke very low, as ifthey were telling each other important or shameful secrets. 

"You can't imagine what a collection of fictitious titles are met inthis lair, " said Servigny, "By the way, I shall present you by thename of Count Saval; plain Saval would not do at all. "

"Oh, no, indeed!" cried his friend; "I would not have anyone thinkme capable of borrowing a title, even for an evening, even amongthose people. Ah, no!"

Servigny began to laugh. 

"How stupid you are! Why, in that set they call me the Duke deServigny. I don't know how nor why. But at any rate the Duke deServigny I am and shall remain, without complaining or protesting. It does not worry me. I should have no footing there whateverwithout a title. "

But Saval would not be convinced. 

"Well, you are of rank, and so you may remain. But, as for me, no. Ishall be the only common person in the drawing-room. So much theworse, or, so much the better. It will be my mark of distinction andsuperiority. "

Servigny was obstinate. 

"I tell you that it is not possible. Why, it would almost seemmonstrous. You would have the effect of a ragman at a meeting ofemperors. Let me do as I like. I shall introduce you as the Vice-Roidu 'Haut-Mississippi, ' and no one will be at all astonished. When aman takes on greatness, he can't take too much. "

"Once more, no, I do not wish it. "

"Very well, have your way. But, in fact, I am very foolish to try toconvince you. I defy you to get in without some one giving you atitle, just as they give a bunch of violets to the ladies at theentrance to certain stores. "

They turned to the right in the Rue de Barrie, mounted one flight ofstairs in a fine modern house, and gave their overcoats and canesinto the hands of four servants in knee-breeches. A warm odor, as ofa festival assembly, filled the air, an odor of flowers, perfumes, and women; and a composed and continuous murmur came from theadjoining rooms, which were filled with people. 

A kind of master of ceremonies, tall, erect, wide of girth, serious, his face framed in white whiskers, approached the newcomers, askingwith a short and haughty bow: "Whom shall I announce?"

"Monsieur Saval, " Servigny replied. 

Then with a loud voice, the man opening the door cried out to thecrowd of guests:

"Monsieur the Duke de Servigny. "

"Monsieur the Baron Saval. "

The first drawing-room was filled with women. The first thing whichattracted attention was the display of bare shoulders, above a floodof brilliant gowns. 

The mistress of the house who stood talking with three friends, turned and came forward with a majestic step, with grace in her mienand a smile on her lips. Her forehead was narrow and very low, andwas covered with a mass of glossy black hair, encroaching a littleupon the temples. 

She was tall, a trifle too large, a little too stout, over ripe, butvery pretty, with a heavy, warm, potent beauty. Beneath that mass ofhair, full of dreams and smiles, rendering her mysteriouslycaptivating, were enormous black eyes. Her nose was a little narrow, her mouth large and infinitely seductive, made to speak and toconquer. 

Her greatest charm was in her voice. It came from that mouth aswater from a spring, so natural, so light, so well modulated, soclear, that there was a physical pleasure in listening to it. It wasa joy for the ear to hear the flexible words flow with the grace ofa babbling brook, and it was a joy for the eyes to see those prettylips, a trifle too red, open as the words rippled forth. 

She gave one hand to Servigny, who kissed it, and dropping her fanon its little gold chain, she gave the other to Saval, saying tohim: "You are welcome, Baron, all the Duke's friends are at homehere. "

Then she fixed her brilliant eyes upon the Colossus who had justbeen introduced to her. She had just the slightest down on her upperlip, a suspicion of a mustache, which seemed darker when she spoke. There was a pleasant odor about her, pervading, intoxicating, someperfume of America or of the Indies. Other people came in, marquesses, counts or princes. She said to Servigny, with thegraciousness of a mother: "You will find my daughter in the otherparlor. Have a good time, gentlemen, the house is yours. "

And she left them to go to those who had come later, throwing atSaval that smiling and fleeting glance which women use to show thatthey are pleased. Servigny grasped his friend's arm. 

"I will pilot you, " said he. "In this parlor where we now are, women, the temples of the fleshly, fresh or otherwise. Bargains asgood as new, even better, for sale or on lease. At the right, gaming, the temple of money. You understand all about that. At thelower end, dancing, the temple of innocence, the sanctuary, themarket for young girls. They are shown off there in every light. Even legitimate marriages are tolerated. It is the future, the hope, of our evenings. And the most curious part of this museum of moraldiseases are these young girls whose souls are out of joint, justlike the limbs of the little clowns born of mountebanks. Come andlook at them. "

He bowed, right and left, courteously, a compliment on his lips, sweeping each low-gowned woman whom he knew with the look of anexpert. 

The musicians, at the end of the second parlor, were playing awaltz; and the two friends stopped at the door to look at them. Ascore of couples were whirling-the men with a serious expression, and the women with a fixed smile on their lips. They displayed agood deal of shoulder, like their mothers; and the bodices of somewere only held in place by a slender ribbon, disclosing at timesmore than is generally shown. 

Suddenly from the end of the room a tall girl darted forward, gliding through the crowd, brushing against the dancers, and holdingher long train in her left hand. She ran with quick little steps aswomen do in crowds, and called out: "Ah! How is Muscade? How do youdo, Muscade?"

Her features wore an expression of the bloom of life, theillumination of happiness. Her white flesh seemed to shine, thegolden-white flesh which goes with red hair. The mass of hertresses, twisted on her head, fiery, flaming locks, nestled againsther supple neck, which was still a little thin. 

She seemed to move just as her mother was made to speak, so natural, noble, and simple were her gestures. A person felt a moral joy andphysical pleasure in seeing her walk, stir about, bend her head, orlift her arm. "Ah! Muscade, how do you do, Muscade?" she repeated. 

Servigny shook her hand violently, as he would a man's, and said:"Mademoiselle Yvette, my friend, Baron Saval. "

"Good evening, Monsieur. Are you always as tall as that?"

Servigny replied in that bantering tone which he always used withher, in order to conceal his mistrust and his uncertainty:

"No, Mam'zelle. He has put on his greatest dimensions to please yourmother, who loves a colossus. "

And the young girl remarked with a comic seriousness: "Very well Butwhen you come to see me you must diminish a little if you please. Iprefer the medium height. Now Muscade has just the proportions whichI like. "

And she gave her hand to the newcomer. Then she asked: "Do youdance, Muscade? Come, let us waltz. " Without replying, with a quickmovement, passionately, Servigny clasped her waist and theydisappeared with the fury of a whirlwind. 

They danced more rapidly than any of the others, whirled andwhirled, and turned madly, so close together that they seemed butone, and with the form erect, the legs almost motionless, as if someinvisible mechanism, concealed beneath their feet, caused them totwirl. They appeared tireless. The other dancers stopped from timeto time. They still danced on, alone. They seemed not to know wherethey were nor what they were doing, as if, they had gone far awayfrom the ball, in an ecstasy. The musicians continued to play, withtheir looks fixed upon this mad couple; all the guests gazed atthem, and when finally they did stop dancing, everyone applaudedthem. 

She was a little flushed, with strange eyes, ardent and timid, lessdaring than a moment before, troubled eyes, blue, yet with a pupilso black that they seemed hardly natural. Servigny appeared giddy. He leaned against a door to regain his composure. 

"You have no head, my poor Muscade, I am steadier than you, " saidYvette to Servigny. He smiled nervously, and devoured her with alook. His animal feelings revealed themselves in his eyes and in thecurl of his lips. She stood beside him looking down, and her bosomrose and fell in short gasps as he looked at her. 

Then she said softly: "Really, there are times when you are like atiger about to spring upon his prey. Come, give me your arm, and letus find your friend. "

Silently he offered her his arm and they went down the long drawing-roomtogether. 

Saval was not alone, for the Marquise Obardi had rejoined him. Sheconversed with him on ordinary and fashionable subjects with aseductiveness in her tones which intoxicated him. And, looking ather with his mental eye, it seemed to him that her lips, utteredwords far different from those which they formed. When she sawServigny her face immediately lighted up, and turning toward him shesaid:

"You know, my dear Duke, that I have just leased a villa at Bougivalfor two months, and I count upon your coming to see me there, andupon your friend also. Listen. We take possession next Monday, andshall expect both of you to dinner the following Saturday. We shallkeep you over Sunday. "

Perfectly serene and tranquil Yvette smiled, saying with a decisionwhich swept away hesitation on his part:

"Of course Muscade will come to dinner on Saturday. We have only toask him, for he and I intend to commit a lot of follies in thecountry. "

He thought he divined the birth of a promise in her smile, and inher voice he heard what he thought was invitation. 

Then the Marquise turned her big, black eyes upon Saval: "And youwill, of course, come, Baron?"

With a smile that forbade doubt, he bent toward her, saying, "Ishall be only too charmed, Madame. "

Then Yvette murmured with malice that was either naive ortraitorous: "We will set all the world by the ears down there, won'twe, Muscade, and make my regiment of admirers fairly mad. " And witha look, she pointed out a group of men who were looking at them froma little distance. 

Said Servigny to her: "As many follies as YOU may please, Mam'zelle. "

In speaking to Yvette, Servigny never used the word "Mademoiselle, "by reason of his close and long intimacy with her. 

Then Saval asked: "Why does Mademoiselle always call my friendServigny 'Muscade'?"

Yvette assumed a very frank air and said:

"I will tell you: It is because he always slips through my hands. Now I think I have him, and then I find I have not. "

The Marquise, with her eyes upon Saval, arid evidently preoccupied, said in a careless tone: "You children are very funny. "

But Yvette bridled up: "I do not intend to be funny; I am simplyfrank. Muscade pleases me, and is always deserting me, and that iswhat annoys me. "

Servigny bowed profoundly, saying: "I will never leave you any more, Mam'zelle, neither day nor night. " She made a gesture of horror:

"My goodness! no--what do you mean? You are all right during theday, but at night you might embarrass me. "

With an air of impertinence he asked: "And why?"

Yvette responded calmly and audaciously, "Because you would not lookwell en deshabille. "

The Marquise, without appearing at all disturbed, said: "Whatextraordinary subjects for conversation. One would think that youwere not at all ignorant of such things. "

And Servigny jokingly added: "That is also my opinion, Marquise. "

Yvette turned her eyes upon him, and in a haughty, yet wounded, tonesaid: "You are becoming very vulgar--just as you have been severaltimes lately. " And turning quickly she appealed to an individualstanding by:

"Chevalier, come and defend me from insult. "

A thin, brown man, with an easy carriage, came forward. 

"Who is the culprit?" said he, with a constrained smile. 

Yvette pointed out Servigny with a nod of her head:

"There he is, but I like him better than I do you, because he isless of a bore. "

The Chevalier Valreali bowed:

"I do what I can, Mademoiselle. I may have less ability, but notless devotion. "

A gentleman came forward, tall and stout, with gray whiskers, sayingin loud tones: "Mademoiselle Yvette, I am your most devoted slave. "

Yvette cried: "Ah, Monsieur de Belvigne. " Then turning toward Saval, she introduced him. 

"My last adorer--big, fat, rich, and stupid. Those are the kind Ilike. A veritable drum-major--but of the table d'hote. But see, youare still bigger than he. How shall I nickname you? Good! I have it. I shall call you 'M. Colossus of Rhodes, Junior, ' from the Colossuswho certainly was your father. But you two ought to have veryinteresting things to say to each other up there, above the heads ofus all--so, by-bye. "

And she left them quickly, going to the orchestra to make themusicians strike up a quadrille. 

Madame Obardi seemed preoccupied. In a soft voice she said toServigny:

"You are always teasing her. You will warp her character and bringout many bad traits. "

Servigny replies: "Why, haven't you finished her education?"

She appeared not to understand, and continued talking in a friendlyway. But she noticed a solemn looking man, wearing a perfectconstellation of crosses and orders, standing near her, and she ranto him:

"Ah Prince, Prince, what good fortune!"

Servigny took Saval's arm and drew him away:

"That is the latest serious suitor, Prince Kravalow. Isn't shesuperb?"

"To my mind they are both superb. The mother would suffice for meperfectly, " answered Saval. 

Servigny nodded and said: "At your disposal, my dear boy. "

The dancers elbowed them aside, as they were forming for aquadrille. 

"Now let us go and see the sharpers, " said Servigny. And theyentered the gambling-room. 

Around each table stood a group of men, looking on. There was verylittle conversation. At times the clink of gold coins, tossed uponthe green cloth or hastily seized, added its sound to the murmur ofthe players, just as if the money was putting in its word among thehuman voices. 

All the men were decorated with various orders, and odd ribbons, andthey all wore the same severe expression, with differentcountenances. The especially distinguishing feature was the beard. 

The stiff American with his horseshoe, the haughty Englishman withhis fan-beard open on his breast, the Spaniard with his black fleecereaching to the eyes, the Roman with that huge mustache which Italycopied from Victor Emmanuel, the Austrian with his whiskers andshaved chin, a Russian general whose lip seemed armed with twotwisted lances, and a Frenchman with a dainty mustache, displayedthe fancies of all the barbers in the world. 

"You won't join the game?" asked Servigny. 

"No, shall you?"

"Not now. If you are ready to go, we will come back some quieterday. There are too many people here to-day, and we can't doanything. "

"Well, let us go. "

And they disappeared behind a door-curtain into the hall. As soon asthey were in the street Servigny asked: "Well, what do you think ofit?"

"It certainly is interesting, but I fancy the women's side of itmore than the men's. "

"Indeed! Those women are the best of the tribe for us. Don't youfind that you breathe the odor of love among them, just as you scentthe perfumes at a hairdresser's?"

"Really such houses are the place for one to go. And what experts, my dear fellow! What artists! Have you ever eaten bakers' cakes?They look well, but they amount to nothing. The man who bakes themonly knows how to make bread. Well! the love of a woman in ordinarysociety always reminds me of these bake-shop trifles, while the loveyou find at houses like the Marquise Obardi's, don't you see, is thereal sweetmeat. Oh! they know how to make cakes, these charmingpastry-cooks. Only you pay five sous, at their shops, for what coststwo sous elsewhere. "

"Who is the master of the house just now?" asked Saval. 

Servigny shrugged his shoulders, signifying his ignorance. 

"I don't know, the latest one known was an English peer, but he leftthree months ago. At present she must live off the common herd, orthe gambling, perhaps, and on the gamblers, for she has hercaprices. But tell me, it is understood that we dine with her onSaturday at Bougival, is it not? People are more free in thecountry, and I shall succeed in finding out what ideas Yvette has inher head!"

"I should like nothing better, " replied Saval. "I have nothing to dothat day. "

Passing down through the Champs-Elysees, under the steps theydisturbed a couple making love on one of the benches, and Servignymuttered: "What foolishness and what a serious matter at the sametime! How commonplace and amusing love is, always the same andalways different! And the beggar who gives his sweetheart twentysous gets as much return as I would for ten thousand francs fromsome Obardi, no younger and no less stupid perhaps than thisnondescript. What nonsense!"

He said nothing for a few minutes; then he began again: "All thesame, it would be good to become Yvette's first lover. Oh! for thatI would give--"

He did not add what he would give, and Saval said good night to himas they reached the corner of the Rue Royale. 

CHAPTER II. 

Bougival and Love

They had set the table on the veranda which overlooked the river. The Printemps villa, leased by the Marquise Obardi, was halfway upthis hill, just at the corner of the Seine, which turned before thegarden wall, flowing toward Marly. 

Opposite the residence, the island of Croissy formed a horizon oftall trees, a mass of verdure, and they could see a long stretch ofthe big river as far as the floating cafe of La Grenouillere hiddenbeneath the foliage. 

The evening fell, one of those calm evenings at the waterside, fullof color yet soft, one of those peaceful evenings which produces asensation of pleasure. No breath of air stirred the branches, noshiver of wind ruffled the smooth clear surface of the Seine. It wasnot too warm, it was mild--good weather to live in. The gratefulcoolness of the banks of the Seine rose toward a serene sky. 

The sun disappeared behind the trees to shine on other lands, andone seemed to absorb the serenity of the already sleeping earth, toinhale, in the peace of space, the life of the infinite. 

As they left the drawing-room to seat themselves at the tableeveryone was joyous. A softened gaiety filled their hearts, theyfelt that it would be so delightful to dine there in the country, with that great river and that twilight for a setting, breathingthat pure and fragrant air. 

The Marquise had taken Saval's arm, and Yvette, Servigny's. The fourwere alone by themselves. The two women seemed entirely differentpersons from what they were at Paris, especially Yvette. She talkedbut little, and seemed languid and grave. 

Saval, hardly recognizing her in this frame of mind, asked her:"What is the matter, Mademoiselle? I find you changed since lastweek. You have become quite a serious person. "

"It is the country that does that for me, " she replied. "I am notthe same, I feel queer; besides I am never two days alike. To-day Ihave the air of a mad woman, and to-morrow shall be as grave as anelegy. I change with the weather, I don't know why. You see, I amcapable of anything, according to the moment. There are days when Iwould like to kill people, --not animals, I would never killanimals, --but people, yes, and other days when I weep at a merething. A lot of different ideas pass through my head. It depends, too, a good deal on how I get up. Every morning, on waking, I cantell just what I shall be in the evening. Perhaps it is our dreamsthat settle it for us, and it depends on the book I have just read. "

She was clad in a white flannel suit which delicately enveloped herin the floating softness of the material. Her bodice, with fullfolds, suggested, without displaying and without restraining, herfree chest, which was firm and already ripe. And her superb neckemerged from a froth of soft lace, bending with gentle movements, fairer than her gown, a pilaster of flesh, bearing the heavy mass ofher golden hair. 

Servigny looked at her for a long time: "You are adorable thisevening, Mam'zelle, " said he, "I wish I could always see you likethis. "

"Don't make a declaration, Muscade. I should take it seriously, andthat might cost you dear. "

The Marquise seemed happy, very happy. All in black, richly dressedin a plain gown which showed her strong, full lines, a bit of red atthe bodice, a cincture of red carnations falling from her waist likea chain, and fastened at the hips, and a red rose in her dark hair, she carried in all her person something fervid, --in that simplecostume, in those flowers which seemed to bleed, in her look, in herslow speech, in her peculiar gestures. 

Saval, too, appeared serious and absorbed. From time to time hestroked his pointed beard, trimmed in the fashion of Henri III. , andseemed to be meditating on the most profound subjects. 

Nobody spoke for several minutes. Then as they were serving thetrout, Servigny remarked:

"Silence is a good thing, at times. People are often nearer to eachother when they are keeping still than when they are talking. Isn'tthat so, Marquise?"

She turned a little toward him and answered:

"It is quite true. It is so sweet to think together about agreeablethings. "

She raised her warm glance toward Saval, and they continued for someseconds looking into each other's eyes. A slight, almost inaudiblemovement took place beneath the table. 

Servigny resumed: "Mam'zelle Yvette, you will make me believe thatyou are in love if you keep on being as good as that. Now, with whomcould you be in love? Let us think together, if you will; I putaside the army of vulgar sighers. I'll only take the principal ones. Is it Prince Kravalow?"

At this name Yvette awoke: "My poor Muscade, can you think of such athing? Why, the Prince has the air of a Russian in a wax-figuremuseum, who has won medals in a hairdressing competition. "

"Good! We'll drop the Prince. But you have noticed the ViscountPierre de Belvigne?"

This time she began to laugh, and asked: "Can you imagine me hangingto the neck of 'Raisine'?" She nicknamed him according to the day, Raisine, Malvoisie, [Footnote: Preserved grapes and pears, malmsey, --apoor wine. ] Argenteuil, for she gave everybody nicknames. And shewould murmur to his face: "My dear little Pierre, " or "My divinePedro, darling Pierrot, give your bow-wow's head to your dear littlegirl, who wants to kiss it. "

"Scratch out number two. There still remains the Chevalier Valrealiwhom the Marquise seems to favor, " continued Servigny. 

Yvette regained all her gaiety: "'Teardrop'? Why he weeps like aMagdalene. He goes to all the first-class funerals. I imagine myselfdead every time he looks at me. "

"That settles the third. So the lightning will strike Baron Saval, here. "

"Monsieur the Colossus of Rhodes, Junior? No. He is too strong. Itwould seem to me as if I were in love with the triumphal arch ofL'Etoile. "

"Then Mam'zelle, it is beyond doubt that you are in love with me, for I am the only one of your adorers of whom we have not yetspoken. I left myself for the last through modesty and throughdiscretion. It remains for me to thank you. "

She replied with happy grace: "In love with you, Muscade? Ah! no. Ilike you, but I don't love you. Wait--I--I don't want to discourageyou. I don't love you--yet. You have a chance--perhaps. Persevere, Muscade, be devoted, ardent, submissive, full of little attentionsand considerations, docile to my slightest caprices, ready foranything to please me, and we shall see--later. "

"But, Mam'zelle, I would rather furnish all you demand afterwardthan beforehand, if it be the same to you. "

She asked with an artless air: "After what, Muscade?"

"After you have shown me that you love me, by Jove!"

"Well, act as if I loved you, and believe it, if you wish. "

"But you--"

"Be quiet, Muscade; enough on the subject. "

The sun had sunk behind the island, but the whole sky still flamedlike a fire, and the peaceful water of the river seemed changed toblood. The reflections from the horizon reddened houses, objects, and persons. The scarlet rose in the Marquise's hair had theappearance of a splash of purple fallen from the clouds upon herhead. 

As Yvette looked on from her end, the Marquise rested, as if bycarelessness, her bare hand upon Saval's hand; but the young girlmade a motion and the Marquise withdrew her hand with a quickgesture, pretending to readjust something in the folds of hercorsage. 

Servigny, who was looking at them, said:

"If you like, Mam'zelle, we will take a walk on the island afterdinner. "

"Oh, yes! That will be delightful. We will go all alone, won't we, Muscade?"

"Yes, all alone, Mam'zelle!"

The vast silence of the horizon, the sleepy tranquillity of theevening captured heart, body, and voice. There are peaceful, chosenhours when it becomes almost impossible to talk. 

The servants waited on them noiselessly. The firmamentalconflagration faded away, and the soft night spread its shadows overthe earth. 

"Are you going to stay long in this place?" asked Saval. 

And the Marquise answered, dwelling on each word: "Yes, as long as Iam happy. "

As it was too dark to see, lamps were brought. They cast upon thetable a strange, pale gleam beneath the great obscurity of space;and very soon a shower of gnats fell upon the tablecloth--the tinygnats which immolate themselves by passing over the glass chimneys, and, with wings and legs scorched, powder the table linen, dishes, and cups with a kind of gray and hopping dust. 

They swallowed them in the wine, they ate them in the sauces, theysaw them moving on the bread, and had their faces and hands tickledby the countless swarm of these tiny insects. They were continuallycompelled to throw away the beverages, to cover the plates, andwhile eating to shield the food with infinite precautions. 

It amused Yvette. Servigny took care to shelter what she bore to hermouth, to guard her glass, to hold his handkerchief stretched outover her head like a roof. But the Marquise, disgusted, becamenervous, and the end of the dinner came quickly. Yvette, who had notforgotten Servigny's proposition, said to him:

"Now we'll go to the island. "

Her mother cautioned her in a languid tone: "Don't be late, aboveall things. We will escort you to the ferry. "

And they started in couples, the young girl and her admirer walkingin front, on the road to the shore. They heard, behind them, theMarquise and Saval speaking very rapidly in low tones. All was dark, with a thick, inky darkness. But the sky swarmed with grains offire, and seemed to sow them in the river, for the black water wasflecked with stars. 

The frogs were croaking monotonously upon the bank, and numerousnightingales were uttering their low, sweet song in the calm andpeaceful air. 

Yvette suddenly said: "Gracious! They are not walking behind us anymore, where are they?" And she called out: "Mamma!" No voicereplied. The young girl resumed: "At any rate, they can't be faraway, for I heard them just now. "

Servigny murmured: "They must have gone back. Your mother was cold, perhaps. " And he drew her along. 

Before them a light gleamed. It was the tavern of Martinet, restaurant-keeper and fisherman. At their call a man came out of thehouse, and they got into a large boat which was moored among theweeds of the shore. 

The ferryman took his oars, and the unwieldy barge, as it advanced, disturbed the sleeping stars upon the water and set them into a maddance, which gradually calmed down after they had passed. Theytouched the other shore and disembarked beneath the great trees. Acool freshness of damp earth permeated the air under the lofty andclustered branches, where there seemed to be as many nightingales asthere were leaves. A distant piano began to play a popular waltz. 

Servigny took Yvette's arm and very gently slipped his hand aroundher waist and gave her a slight hug. 

"What are you thinking about?" he said. 

"I? About nothing at all. I am very happy!"

"Then you don't love me?"

"Oh, yes, Muscade, I love you, I love you a great deal; only leaveme alone. It is too beautiful here to listen to your nonsense. "

He drew her toward him, although she tried, by little pushes, toextricate herself, and through her soft flannel gown he felt thewarmth of her flesh. He stammered:

"Yvette!"

"Well, what?"

"I do love you!"

"But you are not in earnest, Muscade. "

"Oh, yes I am. I have loved you for a long time. "

She continually kept trying to separate herself from him, trying torelease the arm crushed between their bodies. They walked withdifficulty, trammeled by this bond and by these movements, and wentzigzagging along like drunken folk. 

He knew not what to say to her, feeling that he could not talk to ayoung girl as he would to a woman. He was perplexed, thinking whathe ought to do, wondering if she consented or did not understand, and curbing his spirit to find just the right, tender, and decisivewords. He kept saying every second:

"Yvette! Speak! Yvette!"

Then, suddenly, risking all, he kissed her on the cheek. She gave alittle start aside, and said with a vexed air:

"Oh! you are absurd. Are you going to let me alone?"

The tone of her voice did not at all reveal her thoughts nor herwishes; and, not seeing her too angry, he applied his lips to thebeginning of her neck, just beneath the golden hair, that charmingspot which he had so often coveted. 

Then she made great efforts to free herself. But he held herstrongly, and placing his other hand on her shoulder, he compelledher to turn her head toward him and gave her a fond, passionatekiss, squarely on the mouth. 

She slipped from his arms by a quick undulation of the body, and, free from his grasp, she disappeared into the darkness with a greatswishing of skirts, like the whir of a bird as it flies away. 

He stood motionless a moment, surprised by her suppleness and herdisappearance, then hearing nothing, he called gently: "Yvette!"

She did not reply. He began to walk forward, peering through theshadows, looking in the underbrush for the white spot her dressshould make. All was dark. He cried out more loudly:

"Mam'zelle Yvette! Mam'zelle Yvette!"

Nothing stirred. He stopped and listened. The whole island wasstill; there was scarcely a rustle of leaves over his head. Thefrogs alone continued their deep croakings on the shores. Then hewandered from thicket to thicket, going where the banks were steepand bushy and returning to places where they were flat and bare as adead man's arm. He proceeded until he was opposite Bougival andreached the establishment of La Grenouillere, groping the clumps oftrees, calling out continually:

"Mam'zelle Yvette, where are you? Answer. It is ridiculous! Come, answer! Don't keep me hunting like this. "

A distant clock began to strike. He counted the hours: twelve. Hehad been searching through the island for two hours. Then he thoughtthat perhaps she had gone home; and he went back very anxiously, this time by way of the bridge. A servant dozing on a chair waswaiting in the hall. 

Servigny awakened him and asked: "Is it long since MademoiselleYvette came home? I left her at the foot of the place because I hada call to make. "

And the valet replied: "Oh! yes, Monsieur, Mademoiselle came inbefore ten o'clock. "

He proceeded to his room and went to bed. But he could not close hiseyes. That stolen kiss had stirred him to the soul. He keptwondering what she thought and what she knew. How pretty andattractive she was!

His desires, somewhat wearied by the life he led, by all hisprocession of sweethearts, by all his explorations in the kingdom oflove, awoke before this singular child, so fresh, irritating, andinexplicable. He heard one o'clock strike, then two. He could notsleep at all. He was warm, he felt his heart beat and his templesthrob, and he rose to open the window. A breath of fresh air camein, which he inhaled deeply. The thick darkness was silent, black, motionless. But suddenly he perceived before him, in the shadows ofthe garden, a shining point; it seemed a little red coal. 

"Well, a cigar!" he said to himself. "It must be Saval, " and hecalled softly: "Leon!"

"Is it you, Jean?"

"Yes. Wait. I'll come down. " He dressed, went out, and rejoining hisfriend who was smoking astride an iron chair, inquired: "What areyou doing here at this hour?"

"I am resting, " Saval replied. And he began to laugh. Servignypressed his hand: "My compliments, my dear fellow. And as for me, I--am making a fool of myself. "

"You mean--"

"I mean that--Yvette and her mother do not resemble each other. "

"What has happened? Tell me. "

Servigny recounted his attempts and their failure. Then he resumed:

"Decidedly, that little girl worries me. Fancy my not being able tosleep! What a queer thing a girl is! She appears to be as simple asanything, and yet you know nothing about her. A woman who has livedand loved, who knows life, can be quickly understood. But when itcomes to a young virgin, on the contrary, no one can guess anythingabout her. At heart I begin to think that she is making sport ofme. "

Saval tilted his chair. He said, very slowly: "Take care, my dearfellow, she will lead you to marriage. Remember those otherillustrious examples. It was just by this same process thatMademoiselle de Montijo, who was at least of good family, becameempress. Don't play Napoleon. "

Servigny murmured: "As for that, fear nothing. I am neither asimpleton nor an emperor. A man must be either one or the other tomake such a move as that. But tell me, are you sleepy?"

"Not a bit. "

"Will you take a walk along the river?"

"Gladly. "

They opened the iron gate and began to walk along the river banktoward Marly. It was the quiet hour which precedes dawn, the hour ofdeep sleep, of complete rest, of profound peacefulness. Even thegentle sounds of the night were hushed. The nightingales sang nolonger; the frogs had finished their hubbub; some kind of an animalonly, probably a bird, was making somewhere a kind of sawing sound, feeble, monotonous, and regular as a machine. Servigny, who hadmoments of poetry, and of philosophy too, suddenly remarked: "Nowthis girl completely puzzles me. In arithmetic, one and one maketwo. In love one and one ought to make one but they make two justthe same. Have you ever felt that? That need of absorbing a woman inyourself or disappearing in her? I am not speaking of the animalembrace, but of that moral and mental eagerness to be but one with abeing, to open to her all one's heart and soul, and to fathom herthoughts to the depths. "

"And yet you can never lay bare all the fluctuations of her wishes, desires, and opinions. You can never guess, even slightly, all theunknown currents, all the mystery of a soul that seems so near, asoul hidden behind two eyes that look at you, clear as water, transparent as if there were nothing beneath a soul which talks toyou by a beloved mouth, which seems your very own, so greatly do youdesire it; a soul which throws you by words its thoughts, one byone, and which, nevertheless, remains further away from you thanthose stars are from each other, and more impenetrable. Isn't itqueer, all that?"

"I don't, ask so much, " Saval rejoined. "I don't look behind theeyes. I care little for the contents, but much for the vessel. " AndServigny replied: "What a singular person Yvette is! How will shereceive me this morning?"

As they reached the works at Marly they perceived that the sky wasbrightening. The cocks began to crow in the poultry-yards. A birdtwittered in a park at the left, ceaselessly reiterating a tenderlittle theme. 

"It is time to go back, " said Saval. 

They returned, and as Servigny entered his room, he saw the horizonall pink through his open windows. 

Then he shut the blinds, drew the thick, heavy curtains, went backto bed and fell asleep. He dreamed of Yvette all through hisslumber. An odd noise awoke him. He sat on the side of the bed andlistened, but heard nothing further. Then suddenly there was acrackling against the blinds, like falling hail. He jumped from thebed, ran to the window, opened it, and saw Yvette standing in thepath and throwing handfuls of gravel at his face. She was clad inpink, with a wide-brimmed straw hat ornamented with a mousquetaireplume, and was laughing mischievously. 

"Well! Muscade, are you asleep? What could you have been doing allnight to make you wake so late? Have you been seeking adventures, mypoor Muscade?"

He was dazzled by the bright daylight striking him full in the eyes, still overwhelmed with fatigue, and surprised at the jestingtranquillity of the young girl. 

"I'll be down in a second, Mam'zelle, " he answered. "Just time tosplash my face with water, and I will join you. "

"Hurry, " she cried, "it is ten o'clock, and besides I have a great planto unfold to you, a plot we are going to concoct. You know that webreakfast at eleven. "

He found her seated on a bench, with a book in her lap, some novelor other. She took his arm in a familiar and friendly way, with afrank and gay manner, as if nothing had happened the night before, and drew him toward the end of the garden. 

"This is my plan, " she said. "We will disobey mamma, and you shalltake me presently to La Grenouillere restaurant. I want to see it. Mamma says that decent women cannot go to the place. Now it is allthe same to me whether persons can go there or cannot. You'll takeme, won't you, Muscade? And we will have a great time--with theboatmen. "

She exhaled a delicious fragrance, although he could not exactlydefine just what light and vague odor enveloped her. It was not oneof those heavy perfumes of her mother, but a discreet breath inwhich he fancied he could detect a suspicion of iris powder, andperhaps a suggestion of vervain. 

Whence emanated that indiscernible perfume? From her dress, herhair, or her skin? He puzzled over this, and as he was speaking veryclose to her, he received full in the face her fresh breath, whichseemed to him just as delicious to inhale. 

Then he thought that this evasive perfume which he was trying torecognize was perhaps only evoked by her charming eyes, and wasmerely a sort of deceptive emanation of her young and alluringgrace. 

"That is agreed, isn't it, Muscade? As it will be very warm afterbreakfast, mamma will not go out. She always feels the heat verymuch. We will leave her with your friend, and you shall take me. They will think that we have gone into the forest. If you knew howmuch it will amuse me to see La Grenouillere!"

They reached the iron gate opposite the Seine. A flood of sunshinefell upon the slumberous, shining river. A slight heat-mist rosefrom it, a sort of haze of evaporated water, which spread over thesurface of the stream a faint gleaming vapor. 

From time to time, boats passed by, a quick yawl or a heavy passageboat, and short or long whistles could be heard, those of the trainswhich every Sunday poured the citizens of Paris into the suburbs, and those of the steamboats signaling their approach to pass thelocks at Marly. 

But a tiny bell sounded. Breakfast was announced, and they went backinto the house. The repast was a silent one. A heavy July noonoverwhelmed the earth, and oppressed humanity. The heat seemedthick, and paralyzed both mind and body. The sluggish words wouldnot leave the lips, and all motion seemed laborious, as if the airhad become a resisting medium, difficult to traverse. Only Yvette, although silent, seemed animated and nervous with impatience. Assoon as they had finished the last course she said:

"If we were to go for a walk in the forest, it would be deliciouslycool under the trees. "

The Marquise murmured with a listless air: "Are you mad? Does anyonego out in such weather?"

And the young girl, delighted, rejoined: "Oh, well! We will leavethe Baron to keep you company. Muscade and I will climb the hill andsit on the grass and read. "

And turning toward Servigny she asked: "That is understood?"

"At your service, Mam'zelle, " he replied. 

Yvette ran to get her hat. The Marquise shrugged her shoulders witha sigh. "She certainly is mad. " she said. 

Then with an indolence in her amorous and lazy gestures, she gaveher pretty white hand to the Baron, who kissed it softly. Yvette andServigny started. They went along the river, crossed the bridge andwent on to the island, and then seated themselves on the bank, beneath the willows, for it was too soon to go to La Grenouillere. 

The young girl at once drew a book from her pocket and smilinglysaid: "Muscade, you are going to read to me. " And she handed him thevolume. 

He made a motion as if of fright. "I, Mam'zelle? I don't know how toread!"

She replied with gravity: "Come, no excuses, no objections; you area fine suitor, you! All for nothing, is that it? Is that yourmotto?"

He took the book, opened it, and was astonished. It was a treatiseon entomology. A history of ants by an English author. And as heremained inert, believing that he was making sport of her, she saidwith impatience: "Well, read!"

"Is it a wager, or just a simple fad?" he asked. 

"No, my dear. I saw that book in a shop. They told me that it wasthe best authority on ants and I thought that it would beinteresting to learn about the life of these little insects whileyou see them running over the grass; so read, if you please. "

She stretched herself flat upon the grass, her elbows resting uponthe ground, her head between her hands, her eyes fixed upon theground. He began to read as follows:

"The anthropoid apes are undoubtedly the animals which approachnearest to man by their anatomical structure, but if we consider thehabits of the ants, their organization into societies, their vastcommunities, the houses and roads that they construct, their customof domesticating animals, and sometimes even of making slaves ofthem, we are compelled to admit that they have the right to claim aplace near to man in the scale of intelligence. "

He continued in a monotonous voice, stopping from time to time toask: "Isn't that enough?"

She shook her head, and having caught an ant on the end of a severedblade of grass, she amused herself by making it go from one end tothe other of the sprig, which she tipped up whenever the insectreached one of the ends. She listened with mute and contentedattention to all the wonderful details of the life of these frailcreatures: their subterranean homes; the manner in which they seize, shut up, and feed plant-lice to drink the sweet milk which theysecrete, as we keep cows in our barns; their custom of domesticatinglittle blind insects which clean the anthills, and of going to warto capture slaves who will take care of their victors with suchtender solicitude that the latter even lose the habit of feedingthemselves. 

And little by little, as if a maternal tenderness had sprung up inher heart for the poor insect which was so tiny and so intelligent, Yvette made it climb on her finger, looking at it with a movedexpression, almost wanting to embrace it. 

And as Servigny read of the way in which they live in communities, and play games of strength and skill among themselves, the younggirl grew enthusiastic and sought to kiss the insect which escapedher and began to crawl over her face. Then she uttered a piercingcry, as if she had been threatened by a terrible danger, and withfrantic gestures tried to brush it off her face. With a loud laughServigny caught it near her tresses and imprinted on the spot wherehe had seized it a long kiss without Yvette withdrawing herforehead. 

Then she exclaimed as she rose: "That is better than a novel. Nowlet us go to La Grenouillere. "

They reached that part of the island which is set out as a park andshaded with great trees. Couples were strolling beneath the loftyfoliage along the Seine, where the boats were gliding by. 

The boats were filled with young people, working-girls and theirsweethearts, the latter in their shirt-sleeves, with coats on theirarms, tall hats tipped back, and a jaded look. There were tradesmenwith their families, the women dressed in their best and thechildren flocking like little chicks about their parents. A distant, continuous sound of voices, a heavy, scolding clamor announced theproximity of the establishment so dear to the boatmen. 

Suddenly they saw it. It was a huge boat, roofed over, moored to thebank. On board were many men and women drinking at tables, or elsestanding up, shouting, singing, bandying words, dancing, capering, to the sound of a piano which was groaning--out of tune and rattlingas an old kettle. 

Two tall, russet-haired, half-tipsy girls, with red lips, weretalking coarsely. Others were dancing madly with young fellows halfclad, dressed like jockeys, in linen trousers and colored caps. Theodors of a crowd and of rice-powder were noticeable. 

The drinkers around the tables were swallowing white, red, yellow, and green liquids, and vociferating at the top of their lungs, feeling as it were, the necessity of making a noise, a brutal needof having their ears and brains filled with uproar. Now and then aswimmer, standing on the roof, dived into the water, splashing thenearest guests, who yelled like savages. 

On the stream passed the flotillas of light craft, long, slenderwherries, swiftly rowed by bare-armed oarsmen, whose muscles playedbeneath their bronzed skin. The women in the boats, in blue or redflannel skirts, with umbrellas, red or blue, opened over their headsand gleaming under the burning sun, leaned back in their chairs atthe stern of the boats, and seemed almost to float upon the water, in motionless and slumberous pose. 

The heavier boats proceeded slowly, crowded with people. Acollegian, wanting to show off, rowed like a windmill against allthe other boats, bringing the curses of their oarsmen down upon hishead, and disappearing in dismay after almost drowning two swimmers, followed by the shouts of the crowd thronging in the great floatingcafe. 

Yvette, radiantly happy, taking Servigny's arm, went into the midstof this noisy mob. She seemed to enjoy the crowding, and stared atthe girls with a calm and gracious glance. 

"Look at that one, Muscade, " she said. "What pretty hair she has!They seem to be having such fun!"

As the pianist, a boatman dressed in red with a huge straw hat, began a waltz, Yvette grasped her companion and they danced so longand madly that everybody looked at them. The guests, standing on thetables, kept time with their feet; others threw glasses, and themusician, seeming to go mad, struck the ivory keys with great bangs;swaying his whole body and swinging his head covered with thatimmense hat. Suddenly he stopped and, slipping to the deck, layflat, beneath his head-gear, as if dead with fatigue. A loud laugharose and everybody applauded. 

Four friends rushed forward, as they do in cases of accident, andlifting up their comrade, they carried him by his four limbs, aftercarefully placing his great hat on his stomach. A joker followingthem intoned the "De Profundis, " and a procession formed andthreaded the paths of the island, guests and strollers and everyonethey met falling into line. 

Yvette darted forward, delighted, laughing with her whole heart, chatting with everybody, stirred by the movement and the noise. Theyoung men gazed at her, crowded against her, seeming to devour herwith their glances; and Servigny began to fear lest the adventureshould terminate badly. 

The procession still kept on its way; hastening its step; for thefour bearers had taken a quick pace, followed by the yelling crowd. But suddenly, they turned toward the shore, stopped short as theyreached the bank, swung their comrade for a moment, and then, allfour acting together, flung him into the river. 

A great shout of joy rang out from all mouths, while the poorpianist, bewildered, paddled, swore, coughed, and spluttered, andthough sticking in the mud managed to get to the shore. His hatwhich floated down the stream was picked up by a boat. Yvette dancedwith joy, clapping and repeating: "Oh! Muscade, what fun! what fun!"

Servigny looked on, having become serious, a little disturbed, alittle chilled to see her so much at her ease in this common place. A sort of instinct revolted in him, that instinct of the proper, which a well-born man always preserves even when he casts himselfloose, that instinct which avoids too common familiarities and toodegrading contacts. Astonished, he muttered to himself:

"Egad! Then YOU are at home here, are you?" And he wanted to speakfamiliarly to her, as a man does to certain women the first time hemeets them. He no longer distinguished her from the russet-haired, hoarse-voiced creatures who brushed against them. The language ofthe crowd was not at all choice, but nobody seemed shocked orsurprised. Yvette did not even appear to notice it. 

"Muscade, I want to go in bathing, " she said. "We'll go into theriver together. "

"At your service, " said he. 

They went to the bath-office to get bathing-suits. She was ready thefirst, and stood on the bank waiting for him, smiling on everyonewho looked at her. Then side by side they went into the luke-warmwater. 

She swam with pleasure, with intoxication, caressed by the wave, throbbing with a sensual delight, raising herself at each stroke asif she were going to spring from the water. He followed her withdifficulty, breathless, and vexed to feel himself mediocre at thesport. 

But she slackened her pace, and then, turning over suddenly, shefloated, with her arms folded and her eyes wide open to the bluesky. He observed, thus stretched out on the surface of the river, the undulating lines of her form, her firm neck and shoulders, herslightly submerged hips, and bare ankles, gleaming in the water, andthe tiny foot that emerged. 

He saw her thus exhibiting herself, as if she were doing it onpurpose, to lure him on, or again to make sport of him. And he beganto long for her with a passionate ardor and an exasperatingimpatience. Suddenly she turned, looked at him, and burst intolaughter. 

"You have a fine head, " she said. 

He was annoyed at this bantering, possessed with the anger of abaffled lover. Then yielding brusquely to a half felt desire forretaliation, a desire to avenge himself, to wound her, he said:

"Well, does this sort of life suit you?"

She asked with an artless air: "What do you mean?"

"Oh, come, don't make game of me. You know well enough what I mean!"

"No, I don't, on my word of honor. "

"Oh, let us stop this comedy! Will you or will you not?"

"I do not understand you. "

"You are not as stupid as all that; besides I told you last night. "

"Told me what? I have forgotten!"

"That I love you. "

"You?"

"Yes. "

"What nonsense!"

"I swear it. "

"Then prove it. "

"That is all I ask. "

"What is?"

"To prove it. "

"Well, do so. "

"But you did not say so last night. "

"You did not ask anything. "

"What absurdity!"

"And besides it is not to me to whom you should make yourproposition. "

"To whom, then?"

"Why, to mamma, of course. "

He burst into laughter. "To your mother. No, that is too much!"

She had suddenly become very grave, and looking him straight in theeyes, said:

"Listen, Muscade, if you really love me enough to marry me, speak tomamma first, and I will answer you afterward. "

He thought she was still making sport of him, and angrily replied:"Mam'zelle, you must be taking me for somebody else. "

She kept looking at him with her soft, clear eyes. She hesitated andthen said:

"I don't understand you at all. "

Then he answered quickly with somewhat of ill nature in his voice:

"Come now, Yvette, let us cease this absurd comedy, which hasalready lasted too long. You are playing the part of a simple littlegirl, and the role does not fit you at all, believe me. You knowperfectly well that there can be no question of marriage between us, but merely of love. I have told you that I love you. It is thetruth. I repeat, I love you. Don't pretend any longer not tounderstand me, and don't treat me as if I were a fool. "

They were face to face, treading water, merely moving their hands alittle, to steady themselves. She was still for a moment, as if shecould not make out the meaning of his words, then she suddenlyblushed up to the roots of her hair. Her whole face grew purple fromher neck to her ears, which became almost violet, and withoutanswering a word she fled toward the shore, swimming with all herstrength with hasty strokes. He could not keep up with her andpanted with fatigue as he followed. He saw her leave the water, pickup her cloak, and go to her dressing-room without looking back. 

It took him a long time to dress, very much perplexed as to what heought to do, puzzled over what he should say to her, and wonderingwhether he ought to excuse himself or persevere. When he was ready, she had gone away all alone. He went back slowly, anxious anddisturbed. 

The Marquise was strolling, on Saval's arm, in the circular patharound the lawn. As she observed Servigny, she said, with thatcareless air which she had maintained since the night before. 

"I told you not to go out in such hot weather. And now Yvette hascome back almost with a sun stroke. She has gone to lie down. Shewas as red as a poppy, the poor child, and she has a frightfulheadache. You must have been walking in the full sunlight, or youmust have done something foolish. You are as unreasonable as she. "

The young girl did not come down to dinner. When they wanted to sendher up something to eat she called through the door that she was nothungry, for she had shut herself in, and she begged that they wouldleave her undisturbed. The two young men left by the ten o'clocktrain, promising to return the following Thursday, and the Marquiseseated herself at the open window to dream, hearing in the distancethe orchestra of the boatmen's ball, with its sprightly music, inthe deep and solemn silence of the night. 

Swayed by love as a person is moved by a fondness for horses orboating, she was subject to sudden tendernesses which crept over herlike a disease. These passions took possession of her suddenly, penetrated her entire being, maddened her, enervated or overwhelmedher, in measure as they were of an exalted, violent, dramatic, orsentimental character. 

She was one of those women who are created to love and to be loved. Starting from a very low station in life, she had risen in heradventurous career, acting instinctively, with inborn cleverness, accepting money and kisses, naturally, without distinguishingbetween them, employing her extraordinary ability in an unthinkingand simple fashion. From all her experiences she had never knowneither a genuine tenderness or a great repulsion. 

She had had various friends, for she had to live, as in traveling aperson eats at many tables. But occasionally her heart took fire, and she really fell in love, which state lasted for some weeks ormonths, according to conditions. These were the delicious moments ofher life, for she loved with all her soul. She cast herself uponlove as a person throws himself into the river to drown himself, andlet herself be carried away, ready to die, if need be, intoxicated, maddened, infinitely happy. She imagined each time that she neverhad experienced anything like such an attachment, and she would havebeen greatly astonished if some one had told her of how many men shehad dreamed whole nights through, looking at the stars. 

Saval had captivated her, body and soul. She dreamed of him, lulledby his face and his memory, in the calm exaltation of consummatedlove, of present and certain happiness. 

A sound behind her made her turn around. Yvette had just entered, still in her daytime dress, but pale, with eyes glittering, assometimes is the case after some great fatigue. She leaned on thesill of the open window, facing her mother. 

"I want to speak to you, " she said. 

The Marquise looked at her in astonishment. She loved her like anegotistical mother, proud of her beauty, as a person is proud of afortune, too pretty still herself to become jealous, too indifferentto plan the schemes with which they charged her, too clever, nevertheless, not to have full consciousness of her daughter'svalue. 

"I am listening, my child, " she said; "what is it?"

Yvette gave her a piercing look, as if to read the depths of hersoul and to seize all the sensations which her words might awake. 

"It is this. Something strange has just happened. "

"What can it be?"

"Monsieur de Servigny has told me that he loves me. "

The Marquise, disturbed, waited a moment, and, as Yvette saidnothing more, she asked:

"How did he tell you that? Explain yourself!"

Then the young girl, sitting at her mother's feet, in a coaxingattitude common with her, and clasping her hands, added:

"He asked me to marry him. "

Madame Obardi made a sudden gesture of stupefaction and cried:

"Servigny! Why! you are crazy!"

Yvette had not taken her eyes off her mother's face, watching herthoughts and her surprise. She asked with a serious voice:

"Why am I crazy? Why should not Monsieur de Servigny marry me?"

The Marquise, embarrassed, stammered:

"You are mistaken, it is not possible. You either did not hear ordid not understand. Monsieur de Servigny is too rich for you, andtoo much of a Parisian to marry. " Yvette rose softly. She added:"But if he loves me as he says he does, mamma?"

Her mother replied, with some impatience: "I thought you big enoughand wise enough not to have such ideas. Servigny is a man-about-townand an egotist. He will never marry anyone but a woman of his setand his fortune. If he asked you in marriage, it is only that hewants--"

The Marquise, incapable of expressing her meaning, was silent for amoment, then continued: "Come now, leave me alone and go to bed. "

And the young girl, as if she had learned what she sought to findout, answered in a docile voice: "Yes, mamma!"

She kissed her mother on the forehead and withdrew with a calm step. As she reached the door, the Marquise called out: "And yoursunstroke?" she said. 

"I did not have one at all. It was that which caused everything. "

The Marquise added: "We will not speak of it again. Only don't stayalone with him for some time from now, and be very sure that he willnever marry you, do you understand, and that he merely meansto--compromise you. "

She could not find better words to express her thought. Yvette wentto her room. Madame Obardi began to dream. Living for years in anopulent and loving repose, she had carefully put aside allreflections which might annoy or sadden her. Never had she beenwilling to ask herself the question. --What would become of Yvette?It would be soon enough to think about the difficulties when theyarrived. She well knew, from her experience, that her daughter couldnot marry a man who was rich and of good society, excepting by atotally improbable chance, by one of those surprises of love whichplace adventuresses on thrones. 

She had not considered it, furthermore, being too much occupied withherself to make any plans which did not directly concern herself. 

Yvette would do as her mother, undoubtedly. She would lead a gaylife. Why not? But the Marquise had never dared ask when, or how. That would all come about in time. 

And now her daughter, all of a sudden, without warning, had askedone of those questions which could not be answered, forcing her totake an attitude in an affair, so delicate, so dangerous in everyrespect, and so disturbing to the conscience which a woman isexpected to show in matters concerning her daughter. 

Sometimes nodding but never asleep, she had too much naturalastuteness to be deceived a minute about Servigny's intentions, forshe knew men by experience, and especially men of that set. So atthe first words uttered by Yvette, she had cried almost in spite ofherself: "Servigny, marry you? You are crazy!"

How had he come to employ that old method, he, that sharp man of theworld? What would he do now? And she, the young girl, how should shewarn her more clearly and even forbid her, for she might make greatmistakes. Would anyone have believed that this big girl had remainedso artless, so ill informed, so guileless? And the Marquise, greatlyperplexed and already wearied with her reflections, endeavored tomake up her mind what to do without finding a solution of theproblem, for the situation seemed to her very embarrassing. Worn outwith this worry, she thought:

"I will watch them more clearly, I will act according tocircumstances. If necessary, I will speak to Servigny, who is sharpand will take a hint. "

She did not think out what she should say to him, nor what he wouldanswer, nor what sort of an understanding could be establishedbetween them, but happy at being relieved of this care withouthaving had to make a decision, she resumed her dreams of thehandsome Saval, and turning toward that misty light which hoversover Paris, she threw kisses with both hands toward the great city, rapid kisses which she tossed into the darkness, one after theother, without counting; and, very low, as if she were talking toSaval still, she murmured:

"I love you, I love you!"

CHAPTER III. 

ENLIGHTENMENT

Yvette, also, could not sleep. Like her mother, she leaned upon thesill of the open window, and tears, her first bitter tears, filledher eyes. Up to this time she had lived, had grown up, in theheedless and serene confidence of happy youth. Why should she havedreamed, reflected, puzzled? Why should she not have been a younggirl, like all other young girls? Why should a doubt, a fear, orpainful suspicion have come to her?

She seemed posted on all topics because she had a way of talking onall subjects, because she had taken the tone, demeanor, and words ofthe people who lived around her. But she really knew no more than alittle girl raised in a convent; her audacities of speech came fromher memory, from that unconscious faculty of imitation andassimilation which women possess, and not from a mind instructed andemboldened. 

She spoke of love as the son of a painter or a musician would, atthe age of ten or twelve years, speak of painting or music. She knewor rather suspected very well what sort of mystery this wordconcealed;--too many jokes had been whispered before her, for herinnocence not to be a trifle enlightened, --but how could she havedrawn the conclusion from all this, that all families did notresemble hers?

They kissed her mother's hand with the semblance of respect; alltheir friends had titles; they all were rich or seemed to be so;they all spoke familiarly of the princes of the royal line. Two sonsof kings had even come often, in the evening, to the Marquise'shouse. How should she have known?

And, then, she was naturally artless. She did not estimate or sum uppeople as her mother, did. She lived tranquilly, too joyous in herlife to worry herself about what might appear suspicious tocreatures more calm, thoughtful, reserved, less cordial, and sunny. 

But now, all at once, Servigny, by a few words, the brutality ofwhich she felt without understanding them, awakened in her a suddendisquietude, unreasoning at first, but which grew into a tormentingapprehension. She had fled home, had escaped like a wounded animal, wounded in fact most deeply by those words which she ceaselesslyrepeated to get all their sense and bearing: "You know very wellthat there can be no question of marriage between us--but only oflove. "

What did he mean? And why this insult? Was she then in ignorance ofsomething, some secret, some shame? She was the only one ignorant ofit, no doubt. But what could she do? She was frightened, startled, as a person is when he discovers some hidden infamy, some treason ofa beloved friend, one of those heart-disasters which crush. 

She dreamed, reflected, puzzled, wept, consumed by fears andsuspicions. Then her joyous young soul reassuring itself, she beganto plan an adventure, to imagine an abnormal and dramatic situation, founded on the recollections of all the poetical romances she hadread. She recalled all the moving catastrophes, or sad and touchingstories; she jumbled them together, and concocted a story of her ownwith which she interpreted the half-understood mystery whichenveloped her life. 

She was no longer cast down. She dreamed, she lifted veils, sheimagined unlikely complications, a thousand singular, terriblethings, seductive, nevertheless, by their very strangeness. Couldshe be, by chance, the natural daughter of a prince? Had her poormother, betrayed and deserted, made Marquise by some king, perhapsKing Victor Emmanuel, been obliged to take flight before the angerof the family? Was she not rather a child abandoned by itsrelations, who were noble and illustrious, the fruit of aclandestine love, taken in by the Marquise, who had adopted andbrought her up?

Still other suppositions passed through her mind. She accepted orrejected them according to the dictates of her fancy. She was movedto pity over her own case, happy at the bottom of her heart, and sadalso, taking a sort of satisfaction in becoming a sort of a heroineof a book who must: assume a noble attitude, worthy of herself. 

She laid out the part she must play, according to events at whichshe guessed. She vaguely outlined this role, like one of Scribe's orof George Sand's. It should be endued with devotion, self-abnegation, greatness of soul, tenderness; and fine words. Her pliant naturealmost rejoiced in this new attitude. She pondered almost till eveningwhat she should do, wondering how she should manage to wrest the truthfrom the Marquise. 

And when night came, favorable to tragic situations, she had thoughtout a simple and subtile trick to obtain what she wanted: it was, brusquely, to say that Servigny had asked for her hand in marriage. 

At this news, Madame Obardi, taken by surprise, would certainly leta word escape her lips, a cry which would throw light into the mindof her daughter. And Yvette had accomplished her plan. 

She expected an explosion of astonishment, an expansion of love, aconfidence full of gestures and tears. But, instead of this, hermother, without appearing stupefied or grieved, had only seemedbored; and from the constrained, discontented, and worried tone inwhich she had replied, the young girl, in whom there suddenly awakedall the astuteness, keenness, and sharpness of a woman, understanding that she must not insist, that the mystery was ofanother nature, that it would be painful to her to learn it, andthat she must puzzle it out all alone, had gone back to her room, her heart oppressed, her soul in distress, possessed now with theapprehensions of a real misfortune, without knowing exactly eitherwhence or why this emotion came to her. So she wept, leaning at thewindow. 

She wept long, not dreaming of anything now, not seeking to discoveranything more, and little by little, weariness overcoming her, sheclosed her eyes. She dozed for a few minutes, with that deep sleepof people who are tired out and have not the energy to undress andgo to bed, that heavy sleep, broken by dreams, when the head nodsupon the breast. 

She did not go to bed until the first break of day, when the cold ofthe morning, chilling her, compelled her to leave the window. 

The next day and the day after, she maintained a reserved andmelancholy attitude. Her thoughts were busy; she was learning to spyout, to guess at conclusions, to reason. A light, still vague, seemed to illumine men and things around her in a new manner; shebegan to entertain suspicions against all, against everything thatshe had believed, against her mother. She imagined all sorts ofthings during these two days. She considered all the possibilities, taking the most extreme resolutions with the suddenness of herchangeable and unrestrained nature. Wednesday she hit upon a plan, an entire schedule of conduct and a system of spying. She roseThursday morning with the resolve to be very sharp and armed againsteverybody. 

She determined even to take for her motto these two words: "Myselfalone, " and she pondered for more than an hour how she shouldarrange them to produce a good effect engraved about her crest, onher writing paper. 

Saval and Servigny arrived at ten o'clock. The young girl gave herhand with reserve, without embarrassment, and in a tone, familiarthough grave, she said:

"Good morning, Muscade, are you well?" "Good morning, Mam'zelle, fairly, thanks, and you?" He was watching her. "What comedy will sheplay me, " he said to himself. 

The Marquise having taken Saval's arm, he took Yvette's, and theybegan to stroll about the lawn, appearing and disappearing everyminute, behind the clumps of trees. 

Yvette walked with a thoughtful air, looking at the gravel of thepathway, appearing hardly to hear what her companion said andscarcely answering him. 

Suddenly she asked: "Are you truly my friend, Muscade?"

"Why, of course, Mam'zelle. "

"But truly, truly, now?"

"Absolutely your friend, Mam'zelle, body and soul. "

"Even enough of a friend not to lie to me once, just once?"

"Even twice, if necessary. "

"Even enough to tell me the absolute, exact truth?"

"Yes, Mam'zelle. "

"Well, what do you think, way down in your heart, of the Prince ofKravalow?"

"Ah, the devil!"

"You see that you are already preparing to lie. "

"Not at all, but I am seeking the words, the proper words. GreatHeavens, Prince Kravalow is a Russian, who speaks Russian, who wasborn in Russia, who has perhaps had a passport to come to France, and about whom there is nothing false but his name and title. "

She looked him in the eyes: "You mean that he is--?"

"An adventurer, Mam'zelle. "

"Thank you, and Chevalier Valreali is no better?" "You have hit it. "

"And Monsieur de Belvigne?"

"With him it is a different thing. He is of provincial society, honorable up to a certain point, but only a little scorched fromhaving lived too rapidly. "

"And you?"

"I am what they call a butterfly, a man of good family, who hadintelligence and who has squandered it in making phrases, who hadgood health and who has injured it by dissipation, who had someworth perhaps and who has scattered it by doing nothing. There isleft to me a certain knowledge of life, a complete absence ofprejudice, a large contempt for mankind, including women, a verydeep sentiment of the uselessness of my acts and a vast tolerancefor the mob. "

"Nevertheless, at times, I can be frank, and I am even capable ofaffection, as you could see, if you would. With these defects andqualities I place myself at your orders, Mam'zelle, morally andphysically, to do what you please with me. "

She did not laugh; she listened, weighing his words and hisintentions; then she resumed:

"What do you think of the Countess de Lammy?"

He replied, vivaciously: "You will permit me not to give my opinionabout the women. "

"About none of them?"

"About none of them. " "Then you must have a bad opinion of them all. Come, think; won't you make a single exception?"

He sneered with that insolent air which he generally wore; and withthat brutal audacity which he used as a weapon, he said: "Presentcompany is always excepted. "

She blushed a little, but calmly asked: "Well, what do you think ofme?"

"You want me to tell. Well, so be it. I think you are a young personof good sense, and practicalness, or if you prefer, of goodpractical sense, who knows very well how to arrange her pastime, toamuse people, to hide her views, to lay her snares, and who, withouthurrying, awaits events. "

"Is that all?" she asked. 

"That's all. "

Then she said with a serious earnestness: "I shall make you changethat opinion, Muscade. "

Then she joined her mother, who was proceeding with short steps, herhead down, with that manner assumed in talking very low, whilewalking, of very intimate and very sweet things. As she advanced shedrew shapes in the sand, letters perhaps, with the point of hersunshade, and she spoke, without looking at Saval, long, softly, leaning on his arm, pressed against him. 

Yvette suddenly fixed her eyes upon her, and a suspicion, rather afeeling than a doubt, passed through her mind as a shadow of a clouddriven by the wind passes over the ground. 

The bell rang for breakfast. It was silent and almost gloomy. Therewas a storm in the air. Great solid clouds rested upon the horizon, mute and heavy, but charged with a tempest. As soon as they hadtaken their coffee on the terrace, the Marquise asked:

"Well, darling, are you going to take a walk today with your friendServigny? It is a good time to enjoy the coolness under the trees. "

Yvette gave her a quick glance. 

"No, mamma, I am not going out to-day. "

The Marquise appeared annoyed, and insisted. "Oh, go and take astroll, my child, it is excellent for you. "

Then Yvette distinctly said: "No, mamma, I shall stay in the houseto-day, and you know very well why, because I told you the otherevening. "

Madame Obardi gave it no further thought, preoccupied with thethought of remaining alone with Saval. She blushed and was annoyed, disturbed on her own account, not knowing how she could find a freehour or two. She stammered:

"It is true. I was not thinking of it. I don't know where my headis. "

And Yvette taking up some embroidery, which she called "the publicsafety, " and at which she worked five or six times a year, on dulldays, seated herself on a low chair near her mother, while the twoyoung men, astride folding-chairs, smoked their cigars. 

The hours passed in a languid conversation. The Marquise fidgety, cast longing glances at Saval, seeking some pretext, some means, ofgetting rid of her daughter. She finally realized that she would notsucceed, and not knowing what ruse to employ, she said to Servigny:"You know, my dear Duke, that I am going to keep you both thisevening. To-morrow we shall breakfast at the Fournaise restaurant, at Chaton. "

He understood, smiled, and bowed: "I am at your orders, Marquise. "

The day wore on slowly and painfully under the threatenings of thestorm. The hour for dinner gradually approached. The heavy sky wasfilled with slow and heavy clouds. There was not a breath of airstirring. The evening meal was silent, too. An oppression, anembarrassment, a sort of vague fear, seemed to make the two men andthe two women mute. 

When the covers were removed, they sat long upon the terrace; onlyspeaking at long intervals. Night fell, a sultry night. Suddenly thehorizon was torn by an immense flash of lightning, which illuminedwith a dazzling and wan light the four faces shrouded in darkness. Then a far-off sound, heavy and feeble, like the rumbling of acarriage upon a bridge, passed over the earth; and it seemed thatthe heat of the atmosphere increased, that the air suddenly becamemore oppressive, and the silence of the evening deeper. 

Yvette rose. "I am going to bed, " she said, "the storm makes meill. "

And she offered her brow to the Marquise, gave her hand to the twoyoung men, and withdrew. 

As her room was just above the terrace, the leaves of a greatchestnut-tree growing before the door soon gleamed with a green hue, and Servigny kept his eyes fixed on this pale light in the foliage, in which at times he thought he saw a shadow pass. But suddenly thelight went out. Madame Obardi gave a great sigh. 

"My daughter has gone to bed, " she said. 

Servigny rose, saying: "I am going to do as much, Marquise, if youwill permit me. " He kissed the hand she held out to him anddisappeared in turn. 

She was left alone with Saval, in the night. In a moment she wasclasped in his arms. Then, although he tried to prevent her, shekneeled before him murmuring: "I want to see you by the lightningflashes. "

But Yvette, her candle snuffed out, had returned to her balcony, barefoot, gliding like a shadow, and she listened, consumed by anunhappy and confused suspicion. She could not see, as she was abovethem, on the roof of the terrace. 

She heard nothing but a murmur of voices, and her heart beat so fastthat she could actually hear its throbbing. A window closed on thefloor above her. Servigny, then, must have just gone up to his room. Her mother was alone with the other man. 

A second flash of lightning, clearing the sky; lighted up for asecond all the landscape she knew so well, with a startling andsinister gleam, and she saw the great river, with the color ofmelted lead, as a river appears in dreams in fantastic scenes. 

Just then a voice below her uttered the words: "I love you!" And sheheard nothing more. A strange shudder passed over her body, and hersoul shivered in frightful distress. A heavy, infinite silence, which seemed eternal, hung over the world. She could no longerbreathe, her breast oppressed by something unknown and horrible. Another flash of lightning illumined space, lighting up the horizonfor an instant, then another almost immediately came, followed bystill others. And the voice, which she had already heard, repeatedmore loudly: "Oh! how I love you! how I love you!" And Yvetterecognized the voice; it was her mother's. 

A large drop of warm rain fell upon her brow, and a slight andalmost imperceptible motion ran through the leaves, the quivering ofthe rain which was now beginning. Then a noise came from afar, aconfused sound, like that of the wind in the branches: it was thedeluge descending in sheets on earth and river and trees. In a fewminutes the water poured about her, covering her, drenching her likea shower-bath. She did not move, thinking only of what was happeningon the terrace. 

She heard them get up and go to their rooms. Doors were closedwithin the house; and the young girl, yielding to an irresistibledesire to learn what was going on, a desire which maddened andtortured her, glided downstairs, softly opened the outer door, and, crossing the lawn under the furious downpour, ran and hid in a clumpof trees, to look at the windows. 

Only one window was lighted, her mother's. And suddenly two shadowsappeared in the luminous square, two shadows, side by side. Thendistracted, without reflection, without knowing what she was doing, she screamed with all her might, in a shrill voice: "Mamma!" as aperson would cry out to warn people in danger of death. 

Her desperate cry was lost in the noise of the rain, but the coupleseparated, disturbed. And one of the shadows disappeared, while theother tried to discover something, peering through the darkness ofthe garden. 

Fearing to be surprised, or to meet her mother at that moment, Yvette rushed back to the house, ran upstairs, dripping wet, andshut herself in her room, resolved to open her door to no one. 

Without taking, off her streaming dress, which clung to her form, she fell on her knees, with clasped hands, in her distress imploringsome superhuman protection, the mysterious aid of Heaven, theunknown support which a person seeks in hours of tears and despair. 

The great lightning flashes threw for an instant their lividreflections into her room, and she saw herself in the mirror of herwardrobe, with her wet and disheveled hair, looking so strange thatshe did not recognize herself. She remained there so long that thestorm abated without her perceiving it. The rain ceased, a lightfilled the sky, still obscured with clouds, and a mild, balmy, delicious freshness, a freshness of grass and wet leaves, came inthrough the open window. 

Yvette rose, took off her wet, cold garments, without thinking whatshe was doing, and went to bed. She stared with fixed eyes at thedawning day. Then she wept again, and then she began to think. 

Her mother! A lover! What a shame! She had read so many books inwhich women, even mothers, had overstepped the bounds of propriety, to regain their honor at the pages of the climax, that she was notastonished beyond measure at finding herself enveloped in a dramasimilar to all those of her reading. The violence of her firstgrief, the cruel shock of surprise, had already worn off a little, in the confused remembrance of analogous situations. Her mind hadrambled among such tragic adventures, painted by the novel-writers, that the horrible discovery seemed, little by little, like thenatural continuation of some serial story, begun the evening before. 

She said to herself: "I will save my mother. " And almost reassuredby this heroic resolution, she felt herself strengthened, ready atonce for the devotion and the struggle. She reflected on the meanswhich must be employed. A single one seemed good, which was quite inkeeping with her romantic nature. And she rehearsed the interviewwhich she should have with the Marquise, as an actor rehearses thescene which he is going to play. 

The sun had risen. The servants were stirring about the house. Thechambermaid came with the chocolate. Yvette put the tray on thetable and said:

"You will say to my mother that I am not well, that I am going tostay in bed until those gentlemen leave, that I could not sleep lastnight, and that I do not want to be disturbed because I am going totry to rest. "

The servant, surprised, looked at the wet dress, which had fallenlike a rag on the carpet. 

"So Mademoiselle has been out?" she said. 

"Yes, I went out for a walk in the rain to refresh myself. "

The maid picked up the skirts, stockings, and wet shoes; then shewent away carrying on her arm, with fastidious precautions, thesegarments, soaked as the clothes of a drowned person. And Yvettewaited, well knowing that her mother would come to her. 

The Marquise entered, having jumped from her bed at the first wordsof the chambermaid, for a suspicion had possessed her, heart sincethat cry: "Mamma!" heard in the dark. 

"What is the matter?" she said. 

Yvette looked at her and stammered: "I--I--" Then overpowered by asudden and terrible emotion, she began to choke. 

The Marquise, astonished, again asked: "What in the world is thematter with you?"

Then, forgetting all her plans and prepared phrases, the young girlhid her face in both hands and stammered:

"Oh! mamma! Oh! mamma!"

Madame Obardi stood by the bed, too much affected thoroughly tounderstand, but guessing almost everything, with that subtileinstinct whence she derived her strength. As Yvette could not speak, choked with tears, her mother, worn out finally and feeling somefearful explanation coming, brusquely asked:

"Come, will you tell me what the matter is?"

Yvette could hardly utter the words: "Oh! last night--I saw--yourwindow. "

The Marquise, very pale; said: "Well? what of it?"

Her daughter repeated, still sobbing: "Oh! mamma! Oh! mamma!"

Madame Obardi, whose fear and embarrassment turned to anger, shrugged her shoulders and turned to go. "I really believe that youare crazy. When this ends, you will let me know. "

But the young girl, suddenly took her hands from her face, which wasstreaming with tears. 

"No, listen, I must speak to you, listen. You must promise me--wemust both go, away, very far off, into the country, and we must livelike the country people; and no one must know what has become of us. Say you will, mamma; I beg you, I implore you; will you?"

The Marquise, confused, stood in the middle of the room. She had inher veins the irascible blood of the common people. Then a sense ofshame, a mother's modesty, mingled with a vague sentiment of fearand the exasperation of a passionate woman whose love is threatened, and she shuddered, ready to ask for pardon, or to yield to someviolence. 

"I don't understand you, " she said. 

Yvette replied:

"I saw you, mamma, last night. You cannot--if you knew--we will bothgo away. I will love you so much that you will forget--"

Madame Obardi said in a trembling voice: "Listen, my daughter, there are some things which you do not yet understand. Well, don'tforget--don't forget-that I forbid you ever to speak to me aboutthose things. "

But the young girl, brusquely taking the role of savior which shehad imposed upon herself, rejoined:

"No, mamma, I am no longer a child, and I have the right to know. Iknow that we receive persons of bad repute, adventurers, and I knowthat, on that account, people do not respect us. I know more. Well, it must not be, any longer, do you hear? I do not wish it. We willgo away: you will sell your jewels; we will work, if need be, and wewill live as honest women, somewhere very far away. And if I canmarry, so much the better. "

She answered: "You are crazy. You will do me the favor to rise andcome down to breakfast with all the rest. "

"No, mamma. There is some one whom I shall never see again, youunderstand me. I want him to leave, or I shall leave. You shallchoose between him and me. "

She was sitting up in bed, and she raised her voice, speaking asthey do on the stage, playing, finally, the drama which she haddreamed, almost forgetting her grief in the effort to fulfill hermission. 

The Marquise, stupefied, again repeated: "You are crazy--" notfinding anything else to say. 

Yvette replied with a theatrical energy: "No, mamma, that man shallleave the house, or I shall go myself, for I will not weaken. "

"And where will you go? What will you do?"

"I do not know, it matters little--I want you to be an honestwoman. "

These words which recurred, aroused in the Marquise a perfect fury, and she cried:

"Be silent. I do not permit you to talk to me like that. I am asgood as anybody else, do you understand? I lead a certain sort oflife, it is true, and I am proud of it; the 'honest women' are notas good as I am. "

Yvette, astonished, looked at her, and stammered: "Oh! mamma!"

But the Marquise, carried away with excitement, continued:

"Yes, I lead a certain life--what of it? Otherwise you would be acook, as I was once, and earn thirty sous a day. You would bewashing dishes, and your mistress would send you to market--do youunderstand--and she would turn you out if you loitered, just as youloiter, now because I am--because I lead this life. Listen. When aperson is only a nursemaid, a poor girl, with fifty francs saved up, she must know how to manage, if she does not want to starve todeath; and there are not two ways for us, there are not two ways, doyou understand, when we are servants. We cannot make our fortunewith official positions, nor with stockjobbing tricks. We have onlyone way--only one way. "

She struck her breast as a penitent at the confessional, and flushedand excited, coming toward the bed, she continued: "So much theworse. A pretty girl must live or suffer--she has no choice!" Thenreturning to her former idea: "Much they deny themselves, your'honest women. ' They are worse, because nothing compels them. Theyhave money to live on and amuse themselves, and they choose viciouslives of their own accord. They are the bad ones in reality. "

She was standing near the bed of the distracted Yvette, who wantedto cry out "Help, " to escape. Yvette wept aloud, like children whoare whipped. The Marquise was silent and looked at her daughter, and, seeing her overwhelmed with despair, felt, herself, the pangsof grief, remorse, tenderness, and pity, and throwing herself uponthe bed with open arms, she also began to sob and stammered:

"My poor little girl, my poor little girl, if you knew, how you werehurting me. " And they wept together, a long while. 

Then the Marquise, in whom grief could not long endure, softly rose, and gently said:

"Come, darling, it is unavoidable; what would you have? Nothing canbe changed now. We must take life as it comes to us. "

Yvette continued to weep. The blow had been too harsh and toounexpected to permit her to reflect and to recover at once. 

Her mother resumed: "Now, get up and come down to breakfast, so thatno one will notice anything. "

The young girl shook her head as if to say, "No, " without being ableto speak. Then she said, with a slow voice full of sobs:

"No, mamma, you know what I said, I won't alter my determination. Ishall not leave my room till they have gone. I never want to see oneof those people again, never, never. If they come back, you will seeno more of me. "

The Marquise had dried her eyes, and wearied with emotion, shemurmured:

"Come, reflect, be reasonable. "

Then, after a moment's silence:

"Yes, you had better rest this morning. I will come up to see youthis afternoon. " And having kissed her daughter on the forehead, shewent to dress herself, already calmed. 

Yvette, as soon as her mother had disappeared, rose, and ran to boltthe door, to be alone, all alone; then she began to think. Thechambermaid knocked about eleven o'clock, and asked through thedoor: "Madame the Marquise wants to know if Mademoiselle wishesanything, and what she will take for her breakfast. "

Yvette answered: "I am not hungry, I only ask not to be disturbed. "

And she remained in bed, just as if she had been ill. Toward threeo'clock, some one knocked again. She asked:

"Who is there?"

It was her mother's voice which replied: "It is I, darling, I havecome to see how you are. "

She hesitated what she should do. She opened the door, and then wentback to bed. The Marquise approached, and, speaking in low tones, aspeople do to a convalescent, said:

"Well, are you better? Won't you eat an egg?"

"No, thanks, nothing at all. "

Madame Obardi sat down near the bed. They remained without sayinganything, then, finally, as her daughter stayed quiet, with herhands inert upon the bedclothes, she asked:

"Don't you intend to get up?"

Yvette answered: "Yes, pretty soon. "

Then in a grave and slow tone she said: "I have thought a greatdeal, mamma, and this--this is my resolution. The past is the past, let us speak no more of it. But the future shall be different or Iknow what is left for me to do. Now, let us say no more about it. "

The Marquise, who thought the explanation finished, felt herimpatience gaining a little. It was too much. This big goose of agirl ought to have known about things long ago. But she did not sayanything in reply, only repeating:

"You are going to get up?"

"Yes, I am ready. "

Then her mother became maid for her, bringing her stockings, hercorset, and her skirts. Then she kissed her. 

"Will you take a walk before dinner?"

"Yes, mamma. "

And they took a stroll along the water, speaking only of commonplacethings. 

CHAPTER IV. 

FROM EMOTION TO PHILOSOPHY

The following day, early in the morning, Yvette went out alone tothe place where Servigny had read her the history of the ants. Shesaid to herself:

"I am not going away from this spot without having formed aresolution. "

Before her, at her feet, the water flowed rapidly, filled with largebubbles which passed in silent flight with deep whirlings. Shealready had summed up the points of the situation and the means ofextricating herself from it. What should she do if her mother wouldnot accept the conditions which she had imposed, would not renounceher present way of living, her set of visitors--everything and goand hide with her in a distant land?

She might go alone, take flight, but where, and how? What would shelive on? By working? At what? To whom should she apply to find work?And, then, the dull and humble life of working-women, daughters ofthe people, seemed a little disgraceful, unworthy of her. Shethought of becoming a governess, like young girls in novels, and ofbecoming loved by the son of the house, and then marrying him. Butto accomplish that she must have been of good birth, so that, whenthe exasperated father should approach her with having stolen hisson's love, she might say in a proud voice:

"My name is Yvette Obardi. "

She could not do this. And then, even that would have been a triteand threadbare method. 

The convent was not worth much more. Besides, she felt no vocationfor a religious life, having only an intermittent and fleetingpiety. No one would save her by marrying her, being what she was! Noaid was acceptable from a man, no possible issue, no definiteresource. 

And then she wished to do something energetic and really great andstrong, which should serve as an example: so she resolved upondeath. 

She decided upon this step suddenly, but tranquilly, as if it were ajourney, without reflecting, without looking at death, withoutunderstanding that it is the end without recommencement, thedeparture without return, the eternal farewell to earth and to thislife. 

She immediately settled on this extreme measure, with the lightnessof young and excited souls, and she thought of the means which shewould employ. But they all seemed to her painful and hazardous, and, furthermore, required a violence of action which repelled her. 

She quickly abandoned the poniard and revolver, which might woundonly, blind her or disfigure her, and which demanded a practiced andsteady hand. She decided against the rope; it was so common, thepoor man's way of suicide, ridiculous and ugly; and against waterbecause she knew how to swim So poison remained--but which kind?Almost all of them cause suffering and incite vomitings. She did notwant either of these things. 

Then she thought of chloroform, having read in a newspaper how ayoung woman had managed to asphyxiate herself by this process. Andshe felt at once a sort of joy in her resolution, an inner pride, asensation of bravery. People should see what she was, and what shewas worth. 

She returned to Bougival and went to a druggist, from whom she askeda little chloroform for a tooth which was aching. The man, who knewher, gave her a tiny bottle of the narcotic. 

Then she set out on foot for Croissy, where she procured a secondphial of poison. She obtained a third at Chaton, a fourth at Ruril, and got home late for breakfast. 

As she was very hungry after this long walk, she ate heartily withthe pleasurable appetite of people who have taken exercise. 

Her mother, happy to see her so hungry, and now feeling tranquilherself, said to her as they left the table:

"All our friends are coming to spend Sunday with us. I have invitedthe Prince, the Chevalier, and Monsieur de Belvigne. "

Yvette turned a little pale, but did not reply. She went out almostimmediately, reached the railway station, and took a ticket forParis. And during all the afternoon, she went from druggist todruggist, buying from each one a few drops of chloroform. She cameback in the evening with her pockets full of little bottles. 

She began the same system on the following day, and by chance founda chemist who gave her, at one stroke, a quarter of a liter. She didnot go out on Saturday; it was a lowering and sultry day; she passedit entirely on the terrace, stretched on a long wicker-chair. 

She thought of almost nothing, very resolute and very calm. She puton the next morning, a blue costume which was very becoming to her, wishing to look well. Then looking at herself in the glass, shesuddenly said:

"To-morrow, I shall be dead. " And a peculiar shudder passed over herbody. "Dead! I shall speak no more, think no more, no one will seeme more, and I shall never see anything again. "

And she gazed attentively at her countenance, as if she had neverobserved it, examining especially her eyes, discovering a thousandthings in herself, a secret character in her physiognomy which shehad not known before, astonished to see herself, as if she hadopposite her a strange person, a new friend. 

She said to herself: "It is I, in the mirror, there. How queer it isto look at oneself. But without the mirror we would never knowourselves. Everybody else would know how we look, and we ourselveswould know nothing. "

She placed the heavy braids of her thick hair over her breast, following with her glance all her gestures, all her poses, and allher movements. "How pretty I am!" she thought. "Tomorrow I shall bedead, there, upon my bed. " She looked at her bed, and seemed to seeherself stretched out, white as the sheets. 

Dead! In a week she would be nothing but dust, to dust returned! Ahorrible anguish oppressed her heart. The bright sunlight fell infloods upon the fields, and the soft morning air came in at thewindow. 

She sat down thinking of it. Death! It was as if the world was goingto disappear from her; but no, since nothing would be changed in theworld, not even her bedroom. Yes, her room would remain just thesame, with the same bed, the same chairs, the same toilettearticles, but she would be forever gone, and no one would be sorry, except her mother, perhaps. 

People would say: "How pretty she was! that little Yvette, " andnothing more. And as she looked at her arm leaning on the arm of herchair, she thought again, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. And again agreat shudder of horror ran over her whole body, and she did notknow how she could disappear without the whole earth being blottedout, so much it seemed to her that she was a part of everything, ofthe fields, of the air, of the sunshine, of life itself. 

There were bursts of laughter in the garden, a great noise of voicesand of calls, the bustling gaiety of country house parties, and sherecognized the sonorous tones of M. De Belvigne, singing:

"I am underneath thy window, Oh, deign to show thy face. " She rose, without reflecting, and looked out. They all applauded. They wereall five there, with two gentlemen whom she did not know. 

She brusquely withdrew, annoyed by the thought that these men hadcome to amuse themselves at her mother's house, as at a publicplace. 

The bell sounded for breakfast. "I will show them how to die, " shesaid. 

She went downstairs with a firm step, with something of theresolution of the Christian martyrs going into the circus, where thelions awaited them. 

She pressed their hands, smiling in an affable but rather haughtymanner. Servigny asked her:

"Are you less cross to-day, Mam'zelle?"

She answered in a severe and peculiar tone: "Today, I am going tocommit follies. I am in my Paris mood, look out!"

Then turning toward Monsieur de Belvigne, she said:

"You shall be my escort, my little Malmsey. I will take you allafter breakfast to the fete at Marly. "

There was, in fact, a fete at Marly. They introduced the twonewcomers to her, the Comte de Tamine and the Marquis de Briquetot. 

During the meal, she said nothing further, strengthening herself tobe gay in the afternoon, so that no one should guess anything, --sothat they should be all the more astonished, and should say: "Whowould have thought it? She seemed so happy, so contented! What doestake place in those heads?"

She forced herself not to think of the evening, the chosen hour, when they should all be upon the terrace. She drank as much wine asshe could stand, to nerve herself, and two little glasses of brandy, and she was flushed as she left the table, a little bewildered, heated in body and mind. It seemed to her that she was strengthenednow, and resolved for everything. 

"Let us start!" she cried. She took Monsieur de Belvigne's arm andset the pace for the others. "Come, you shall form my battalion, Servigny. I choose you as sergeant; you will keep outside the ranks, on the right. You will make the foreign guard march in front--thetwo exotics, the Prince, and the Chevalier--and in the rear the tworecruits who have enlisted to-day. Come!"

They started. And Servigny began to imitate the trumpet, while thetwo newcomers made believe to beat the drum. Monsieur de Belvigne, alittle confused, said in a low tone:

"Mademoiselle Yvette, be reasonable, you will compromise yourself. "

She answered: "It is you whom I am compromising, Raisine. As for me, I don't care much about it. To-morrow it will not occur. So much theworse for you: you ought not to go out with girls like me. "

They went through Bougival to the amazement of the passers-by. Allturned to look at them; the citizens came to their doors; thetravelers on the little railway which runs from Ruril to Marlyjeered at them. The men on the platforms cried:

"To the water with them!"

Yvette marched with a military step, holding Belvigne by the arm, asa prisoner is led. She did not laugh; upon her features sat a paleseriousness, a sort of sinister calm. Servigny interrupted histrumpet blasts only to shout orders. The Prince and the Chevalierwere greatly amused, finding all this very funny and in good taste. The two recruits drummed away continually. 

When they arrived at the fete, they made a sensation. Girlsapplauded; young men jeered, and a stout gentleman with his wife onhis arm said enviously: "There are some people who are full of fun. "

Yvette saw the wooden horses and compelled Belvigne to mount at herright, while her squad scrambled upon the whirling beasts behind. When the time was up she refused to dismount, constraining herescort to take several more rides on the back of these children'sanimals, to the great delight of the public, who shouted jokes atthem. Monsieur de Belvigne was livid and dizzy when he got off. 

Then she began to wander among the booths. She forced all her men toget weighed among a crowd of spectators. She made them buyridiculous toys which they had to carry in their hands. The Princeand the Chevalier began to think the joke was being carried too far. Servigny and the drummers, alone, did not seem to be discouraged. 

They finally came to the end of the place. Then she gazed at herfollowers in a peculiar manner, with a shy and mischievous glance, and a strange fancy came to her mind. She drew them up on the bankof the river. 

"Let the one who loves me the most jump into the water, " she said. 

Nobody leaped. A mob gathered behind them. Women in white apronslooked on in stupor. Two troopers, in red breeches, laughed loudly. 

She repeated: "Then there is not one of you capable of jumping intothe water at my desire?"

Servigny murmured: "Oh, yes, there is, " and leaped feet foremostinto the river. His plunge cast a splash over as far as Yvette'sfeet. A murmur of astonishment and gaiety arose in the crowd. 

Then the young girl picked up from the ground a little piece ofwood, and throwing it into the stream: "Fetch it, " she cried. 

The young man began to swim, and seizing the floating stick in hismouth, like a dog, he brought it ashore, and then climbing the bankhe kneeled on one knee to present it. 

Yvette took it. "You are handsome, " said she, and with a friendlystroke, she caressed his hair. 

A stout woman indignantly exclaimed: "Are such things possible!"

Another woman said: "Can people amuse themselves like that!"

A man remarked: "I would not take a plunge for that sort of a girl. "

She again took Belvigne's arm, exclaiming in his face: "You are agoose, my friend; you don't know what you missed. "

They now returned. She cast vexed looks on the passers-by. "Howstupid all these people seem, " she said. Then raising her eyes tothe countenance of her companion, she added: "You, too, like all therest. "

M. De Belvigne bowed. Turning around she saw that the Prince and theChevalier had disappeared. Servigny, dejected and dripping, ceasedplaying on the trumpet, and walked with a gloomy air at the side ofthe two wearied young men, who also had stopped the drum playing. She began to laugh dryly, saying:

"You seem to have had enough; nevertheless, that is what you callhaving a good time, isn't it? You came for that; I have given youyour money's worth. "

Then she walked on, saying nothing further; and suddenly Belvigneperceived that she was weeping. Astounded, he inquired:

"What is the matter?"

She murmured: "Let me alone, it does not concern you. "

But he insisted, like a fool: "Oh, Mademoiselle, come, what is thematter, has anyone annoyed you?"

She repeated impatiently: "Will you keep still?"

Then suddenly, no longer able to resist the despairing sorrow whichdrowned her heart, she began to sob so violently, that she could nolonger walk. She covered her face with her hands, panting forbreath, choked by the violence of her despair. 

Belvigne stood still at her side, quite bewildered, repeating: "Idon't understand this at all. "

But Servigny brusquely came forward: "Let us go home, Mam'zelle, sothat people may not see you weeping in the street. Why do youperpetrate follies like that when they only make you sad?"

And taking her arm he drew her forward. But as soon as they reachedthe iron gate of the villa she began to run, crossed the garden, andwent upstairs, and shut herself in her room. She did not appearagain until the dinner hour, very pale and serious. Servigny hadbought from a country storekeeper a workingman's costume, withvelvet pantaloons, a flowered waistcoat and a blouse, and he adoptedthe local dialect. Yvette was in a hurry for them to finish, feelingher courage ebbing. As soon as the coffee was served she went to herroom again. 

She heard the merry voices beneath her window. The Chevalier wasmaking equivocal jokes, foreign witticisms, vulgar and clumsy. Shelistened, in despair. Servigny, just a bit tipsy, was imitating thecommon workingman, calling the Marquise "the Missus. " And all of asudden he said to Saval: "Well, Boss?" That caused a general laugh. 

Then Yvette decided. She first took a sheet of paper and wrote:

 "Bougival, Sunday, nine o'clock in the evening. "I die so that I may not become a kept woman. 

 "YVETTE. "

Then in a postscript:

 "Adieu, my dear mother, pardon. "

She sealed the envelope, and addressed it to the Marquise Obardi. 

Then she rolled her long chair near the window, drew a little tablewithin reach of her hand, and placed upon it the big bottle ofchloroform beside a handful of wadding. 

A great rose-tree covered with flowers, climbing as high as herwindow, exhaled in the night a soft and gentle perfume, in lightbreaths; and she stood for a moment enjoying it. The moon, in itsfirst quarter, was floating in the dark sky, a little ragged at theleft, and veiled at times by slight mists. 

Yvette thought: "I am going to die!" And her heart, swollen withsobs, nearly bursting, almost suffocated her. She felt in her a needof asking mercy from some one, of being saved, of being loved. 

The voice of Servigny aroused her. He was telling an improper story, which was constantly interrupted by bursts of laughter. The Marquiseherself laughed louder than the others. 

"There is nobody like him for telling that sort of thing, " she said, laughing. 

Yvette took the bottle, uncorked it, and poured a little of theliquid on the cotton. A strong, sweet, strange odor arose; and asshe brought the piece of cotton to her lips, the fumes entered herthroat and made her cough. 

Then shutting her mouth, she began to inhale it. She took in longbreaths of this deadly vapor, closing her eyes, and forcing herselfto stifle in her mind all thoughts, so that she might not reflect, that she might know nothing more. 

It seemed to her at first that her chest was growing larger, wasexpanding, and that her soul, recently heavy and burdened withgrief, was becoming light, light, as if the weight which overwhelmedher was lifted, wafted away. Something lively and agreeablepenetrated even to the extremities of her limbs, even to the tips ofher toes and fingers and entered her flesh, a sort of dreamyintoxication, of soft fever. She saw that the cotton was dry, andshe was astonished that she was not already dead. Her senses seemedmore acute, more subtle, more alert. She heard the lowest whisper onthe terrace. Prince Kravalow was telling how he had killed anAustrian general in a duel. 

Then, further off, in the fields, she heard the noise of the night, the occasional barkings of a dog, the short cry of the frogs, thealmost imperceptible rustling of the leaves. 

She took the bottle again, and saturated once more the little pieceof wadding; then she began to breathe in the fumes again. For a fewmoments she felt nothing; then that soft and soothing feeling ofcomfort which she had experienced before enveloped her. 

Twice she poured more chloroform upon the cotton, eager now for thatphysical and mental sensation, that dreamy torpor, which bewilderedher soul. 

It seemed to her that she had no more bones, flesh, legs, or arms. The drug had gently taken all these away from her, without herperceiving it. The chloroform had drawn away her body, leaving heronly her mind, more awakened, more active, larger, and more freethan she had ever felt it. 

She recalled a thousand forgotten things, little details of herchildhood, trifles which had given her pleasure. Endowed suddenlywith an awakened agility, her mind leaped to the most diverse ideas, ran through a thousand adventures, wandered in the past, and lostitself in the hoped-for events of the future. And her lively andcareless thoughts had a sensuous charm: she experienced a divinepleasure in dreaming thus. 

She still heard the voices, but she could no longer distinguish thewords, which to her seemed to have a different meaning. She was in akind of strange and changing fairyland. 

She was on a great boat which floated through a beautiful country, all covered with flowers. She saw people on the shore, and thesepeople spoke very loudly; then she was again on land, without askinghow, and Servigny, clad as a prince, came to seek her, to take herto a bull-fight. 

The streets were filled with passers-by, who were talking, and sheheard conversations which did not astonish her, as if she had knownthe people, for through her dreamy intoxication, she still heard hermother's friends laughing and talking on the terrace. 

Then everything became vague. Then she awakened, deliciouslybenumbed, and she could hardly remember what had happened. 

So, she was not yet dead. But she felt so calm, in such a state ofphysical comfort, that she was not in haste to finish with it--shewanted to make this exquisite drowsiness last forever. 

She breathed slowly and looked at the moon, opposite her, above thetrees. Something had changed in her spirit. She no longer thought asshe had done just now. The chloroform quieting her body and her soulhad calmed her grief and lulled her desire to die. 

Why should she not live? Why should she not be loved? Why should shenot lead a happy life? Everything appeared possible to her now, andeasy and certain. Everything in life was sweet, everything wascharming. But as she wished to dream on still, she poured more ofthe dream-water on the cotton and began to breathe it in again, stopping at times, so as not to absorb too much of it and die. 

She looked at the moon and saw in it a face, a woman's face. Shebegan to scorn the country in the fanciful intoxication of the drug. That face swung in the sky; then it sang, it sang with a well-knownvoice the alleluia of love. 

It was the Marquise, who had come in and seated herself at thepiano. 

Yvette had wings now. She was flying through a clear night, abovethe wood and streams. She was flying with delight, opening andclosing her wings, borne by the wind as by a caress. She moved inthe air, which kissed her skin, and she went so fast, so fast, thatshe had no time to see anything beneath her, and she found herselfseated on the bank of a pond with a line in her hand; she wasfishing. 

Something pulled on the cord, and when she drew it out of the water, it bore a magnificent pearl necklace, which she had longed for sometime ago. She was not at all astonished at this deed, and she lookedat Servigny, who had come to her side--she knew not how. He wasfishing also, and drew out of the river a wooden horse. 

Then she had anew the feeling of awaking, and she heard some onecalling down stairs. Her mother had said:

"Put out the candle. " Then Servigny's voice rose, clear and jesting:

"Put out your candle, Mam'zelle Yvette. "

And all took up the chorus: "Mam'zelle Yvette, put out your candle. "

She again poured chloroform on the cotton, but, as she did not wantto die, she placed it far enough from her face to breathe the freshair, while nevertheless her room was filled with the asphyxiatingodor of the narcotic, for she knew that some one was coming, andtaking a suitable posture, a pose of the dead, she waited. 

The Marquise said: "I am a little uneasy! That foolish child hasgone to sleep leaving the light on her table. I will send Clemenceto put it out, and to shut the balcony window, which is wide open. "

And soon the maid rapped on the door calling: "Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle!" After a moment's silence, she repeated: "Mademoiselle, Madame the Marquise begs you to put out your candle and shut the window. "

Clemence waited a little, then knocked louder, and cried:

"Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle!"

As Yvette did not reply, the servant went away and reported to theMarquise:

"Mademoiselle must have gone to sleep, her door is bolted, and Icould not awaken her. "

Madame Obardi murmured:

"But she must not stay like that, "

Then, at the suggestion of Servigny, they all gathered under thewindow, shouting in chorus:

"Hip! hip! hurrah! Mam'zelle Yvette. "

Their clamor rose in the calm night, through the transparent airbeneath the moon, over the sleeping country; and they heard it dieaway in the distance like the sound of a disappearing train. 

As Yvette did not answer the Marquise said: "I only hope thatnothing has happened. I am beginning to be afraid. "

Then Servigny, plucking red roses from a big rosebush trained alongthe wall and buds not yet opened, began to throw them into the roomthrough the window. 

At the first rose that fell at her side, Yvette started and almostcried out. Others fell upon her dress, others upon her hair, whileothers going over her head fell upon the bed, covering it with arain of flowers. 

The Marquise, in a choking voice, cried: "Come, Yvette, answer. "

Then Servigny declared: "Truly this is not natural; I am going toclimb up by the balcony. "

But the Chevalier grew indignant. 

"Now, let me do it, " he said. "It is a great favor I ask; it is toogood a means, and too good a time to obtain a rendezvous. "

All the rest, who thought the young girl was joking, cried: "Weprotest! He shall not climb up. "

But the Marquise, disturbed, repeated: "And yet some one must go andsee. "

The Prince exclaimed with a dramatic gesture:

"She favors the Duke, we are betrayed. "

"Let us toss a coin to see who shall go up, " said the Chevalier. Hetook a five-franc piece from his pocket, and began with the Prince. 

"Tail, " said he. It was head. 

The Prince tossed the coin in his turn saying to Saval: "Call, Monsieur. "

Saval called "Head. " It was tail. 

The Prince then gave all the others a chance, and they all lost. 

Servigny, who was standing opposite him, exclaimed in his insolentway: "PARBLEU! he is cheating!"

The Russian put his hand on his heart and held out the gold piece tohis rival, saying: "Toss it yourself, my dear Duke. "

Servigny took it and spinning it up, said: "Head. " It was tail. 

He bowed and pointing to the pillar of the balcony said: "Climb up, Prince. " But the Prince looked about him with a disturbed air. 

"What are you looking for?" asked the Chevalier. 

"Well, --I--would--like--a ladder. " A general laugh followed. 

Saval, advancing, said: "We will help you. "

He lifted him in his arms, as strong as those of Hercules, tellinghim:

"Now climb to that balcony. "

The Prince immediately clung to it, and, Saval letting him go, heswung there, suspended in the air, moving his legs in empty space. 

Then Servigny, seeing his struggling legs which sought a restingplace, pulled them downward with all his strength; the hands losttheir grip and the Prince fell in a heap on Monsieur de Belvigne, who was coming to aid him. "Whose turn next?" asked Servigny. No oneclaimed the privilege. 

"Come, Belvigne, courage!"

"Thank you, my dear boy, I am thinking of my bones. "

"Come, Chevalier, you must be used to scaling walls. "

"I give my place to you, my dear Duke. "

"Ha, ha, that is just what I expected. "

Servigny, with a keen eye, turned to the pillar. Then with a leap, clinging to the balcony, he drew himself up like a gymnast andclimbed over the balustrade. 

All the spectators, gazing at him, applauded. But he immediatelyreappeared, calling:

"Come, quick! Come, quick! Yvette is unconscious. " The Marquiseuttered a loud cry, and rushed for the stairs. 

The young girl, her eyes closed, pretended to be dead. Her motherentered distracted, and threw her self upon her. 

"Tell me what is the matter with her, what is the matter with her?"

Servigny picked up the bottle of chloroform which had fallen uponthe floor. 

"She has drugged herself, " said he. 

He placed his ear to her heart; then he added:

"But she is not dead; we can resuscitate her. Have you any ammonia?"

The maid, bewildered, repeated: "Any what, Monsieur?"

"Any smelling-salts. "

"Yes, Monsieur. " "Bring them at once, and leave the door open tomake a draft of air. "

The Marquise, on her knees, was sobbing: "Yvette! Yvette, mydaughter, my daughter, listen, answer me, Yvette, my child. Oh, myGod! my God! what has she done?"

The men, frightened, moved about without speaking, bringing water, towels, glasses, and vinegar. Some one said: "She ought to beundressed. " And the Marquise, who had lost her head, tried toundress her daughter; but did not know what she was doing. Her handstrembled and faltered, and she groaned:

"I cannot, --I cannot--"

The maid had come back bringing a druggist's bottle which Servignyopened and from which he poured out half upon a handkerchief. Thenhe applied it to Yvette's nose, causing her to choke. 

"Good, she breathes, " said he. "It will be nothing. "

And he bathed her temples, cheeks, and neck with the pungent liquid. 

Then he made a sign to the maid to unlace the girl, and when she hadnothing more on than a skirt over her chemise, he raised her in hisarms and carried her to the bed, quivering, moved by the odor andcontact of her flesh. Then she was placed in bed. He arose verypale. 

"She will come to herself, " he said, "it is nothing. " For he hadheard her breathe in a continuous and regular way. But seeing allthe men with their eyes fixed on Yvette in bed, he was seized with ajealous irritation, and advanced toward them. "Gentlemen, " he said, "there are too many of us in this room; be kind enough to leave usalone, --Monsieur Saval and me--with the Marquise. "

He spoke in a tone which was dry and full of authority. 

Madame Obardi had grasped her lover, and with her head upliftedtoward him she cried to him:

"Save her, oh, save her!"

But Servigny turning around saw a letter on the table. He seized itwith a rapid movement, and read the address. He understood andthought: "Perhaps it would be better if the Marquise should not knowof this, " and tearing open the envelope, he devoured at a glance thetwo lines it contained:

 "I die so that I may not become a kept woman. " "Yvette. "

 "Adieu, my dear mother, pardon. "

"The devil!" he thought, "this calls for reflection. " And he hid theletter in his pocket. 

Then he approached the bed, and immediately the thought came to himthat the young girl had regained consciousness but that she darednot show it, from shame, from humiliation, and from fear ofquestioning. The Marquise had fallen on her knees now, and wasweeping, her head on the foot of the bed. Suddenly she exclaimed:

"A doctor, we must have a doctor!"

But Servigny, who had just said something in a low tone to Saval, replied to her: "No, it is all over. Come, go out a minute, just aminute, and I promise you that she will kiss you when you comeback. " And the Baron, taking Madame Obardi by the arm, led her fromthe room. 

Then Servigny, sitting-by the bed, took Yvette's hand and said:"Mam'zelle, listen to me. "

She did not answer. She felt so well, so soft and warm in bed, thatshe would have liked never to move, never to speak, and to live likethat forever. An infinite comfort had encompassed her, a comfort thelike of which she had never experienced. 

The mild night air coming in by velvety breaths touched her templesin an exquisite almost imperceptible way. It was a caress like akiss of the wind, like the soft and refreshing breath of a fan madeof all the leaves of the trees and of all the shadows of the night, of the mist of rivers, and of all the flowers too, for the rosestossed up from below into her room and upon her bed, and the rosesclimbing at her balcony, mingled their heavy perfume with thehealthful savor of the evening breeze. 

She drank in this air which was so good, her eyes closed, her heartreposing in the yet pervading intoxication of the drug, and she hadno longer at all the desire to die, but a strong, imperious wish tolive, to be happy--no matter how--to be loved, yes, to be loved. 

Servigny repeated: "Mam'zelle Yvette, listen to me. "

And she decided to open her eyes. 

He continued, as he saw her reviving: "Come! Come! what does thisnonsense mean?"

She murmured: "My poor Muscade, I was so unhappy. "

He squeezed her hand: "And that led you into a pretty scrape! Come, you must promise me not to try it again. "

She did not reply, but nodded her head slightly with an almostimperceptible smile. He drew from his pocket the letter which he hadfound on the table:

"Had I better show this to your mother?"

She shook her head, no. He knew not what more to say for thesituation seemed to him without an outlet. So he murmured:

"My dear child, everyone has hard things to bear. I understand yoursorrow and I promise you--"

She stammered: "You are good. "

They were silent. He looked at her. She had in her glance somethingof tenderness, of weakness; and suddenly she raised both her arms, as if she would draw him to her; he bent over her, feeling that shecalled him, and their lips met. 

For a long time they remained thus, their eyes closed. 

But, knowing that he would lose his head, he drew away. She smiledat him now, most tenderly; and, with both her hands clinging to hisshoulders, she held him. 

"I am going to call your mother, " he said. 

She murmured: "Just a second more. I am so happy. "

Then after a silence, she said in a tone so low that it couldscarcely be heard: "Will you love me very much? Tell me!"

He kneeled beside her bed, and kissing the hand she had given him, said: "I adore you. " But some one was walking near the door. Hearose with a bound, and called in his ordinary voice, which seemednevertheless a little ironical: "You may come in. It is all rightnow. "

The Marquise threw herself on her daughter, with both arms open, andclasped her frantically, covering her countenance with tears, whileServigny with radiant soul and quivering body went out upon thebalcony to breathe the fresh air of the night, humming to himselfthe old couplet:

 "A woman changeth oft her mind: Yet fools still trust in womankind. "