XV
The conquest of Morocco had been accomplished two months back. France,mistress of Tangiers, held the whole of the African shore of theMediterranean as far as Tripoli, and had guaranteed the debt of thenewly annexed territory. It was said that two ministers had gained ascore of millions over the business, and Laroche-Mathieu was almostopenly named. As to Walter, no one in Paris was ignorant of the factthat he had brought down two birds with one stone, and made thirty orforty millions out of the loan and eight to ten millions out of thecopper and iron mines, as well as out of a large stretch of territorybought for almost nothing prior to the conquest, and sold after theFrench occupation to companies formed to promote colonization. He hadbecome in a few days one of the lords of creation, one of thoseomnipotent financiers more powerful than monarchs who cause heads tobow, mouths to stammer, and all that is base, cowardly, and envious, towell up from the depths of the human heart. He was no longer the JewWalter, head of a shady bank, manager of a fishy paper, deputy suspectedof illicit jobbery. He was Monsieur Walter, the wealthy Israelite.
He wished to show himself off. Aware of the monetary embarrassments ofthe Prince de Carlsbourg, who owned one of the finest mansions in theRue de Faubourg, Saint Honore, with a garden giving onto the ChampsElysees, he proposed to him to buy house and furniture, without shiftinga stick, within twenty-four hours. He offered three millions, and theprince, tempted by the amount, accepted. The following day Walterinstalled himself in his new domicile. Then he had another idea, theidea of a conqueror who wishes to conquer Paris, the idea of aBonaparte. The whole city was flocking at that moment to see a greatpainting by the Hungarian artist, Karl Marcowitch, exhibited at adealer's named Jacques Lenoble, and representing Christ walking on thewater. The art critics, filled with enthusiasm, declared the picture themost superb masterpiece of the century. Walter bought it for fourhundred thousand francs, and took it away, thus cutting suddenly short aflow of public curiosity, and forcing the whole of Paris to speak of himin terms of envy, blame, or approbation. Then he had it announced in thepapers that he would invite everyone known in Parisian society to viewat his house some evening this triumph of the foreign master, in orderthat it might not be said that he had hidden away a work of art. Hishouse would be open; let those who would, come. It would be enough toshow at the door the letter of invitation.
This ran as follows: "Monsieur and Madame Walter beg of you to honorthem with your company on December 30th, between 9 and 12 p. m., to viewthe picture by Karl Marcowitch, 'Jesus Walking on the Waters,' lit up byelectric light." Then, as a postscript, in small letters: "Dancing aftermidnight." So those who wished to stay could, and out of these the
Walters would recruit their future acquaintances. The others would viewthe picture, the mansion, and their owners with worldly curiosity,insolent and indifferent, and would then go away as they came. But DaddyWalter knew very well that they would return later on, as they had cometo his Israelite brethren grown rich like himself. The first thing wasthat they should enter his house, all these titled paupers who werementioned in the papers, and they would enter it to see the face of aman who had gained fifty millions in six weeks; they would enter it tosee and note who else came there; they would also enter it because hehad had the good taste and dexterity to summon them to admire aChristian picture at the home of a child of Israel. He seemed to say tothem: "You see I have given five hundred thousand francs for thereligious masterpiece of Marcowitch, 'Jesus Walking on the Waters.' Andthis masterpiece will always remain before my eyes in the house of theJew, Walter."
In society there had been a great deal of talk over these invitations,which, after all, did not pledge one in any way. One could go there asone went to see watercolors at Monsieur Petit's. The Walters owned amasterpiece, and threw open their doors one evening so that everyonecould admire it. Nothing could be better. The _Vie Francaise_ for afortnight past had published every morning a note on this coming eventof the 30th December, and had striven to kindle public curiosity.
Du Roy was furious at the governor's triumph. He had thought himselfrich with the five hundred thousand francs extorted from his wife, andnow he held himself to be poor, fearfully poor, when comparing hismodest fortune with the shower of millions that had fallen around him,without his being able to pick any of it up. His envious hatred waxeddaily. He was angry with everyone--with the Walters, whom he had notbeen to see at their new home; with his wife, who, deceived byLaroche-Mathieu, had persuaded him not to invest in the Morocco loan;and, above all, with the minister who had tricked him, who had made useof him, and who dined at his table twice a week. George was his agent,his secretary, his mouthpiece, and when he was writing from hisdictation felt wild longings to strangle this triumphant foe. As aminister, Laroche-Mathieu had shown modesty in mien, and in order toretain his portfolio, did not let it be seen that he was gorged withgold. But Du Roy felt the presence of this gold in the haughtier tone ofthe parvenu barrister, in his more insolent gestures, his more daringaffirmation, his perfect self-confidence. Laroche-Mathieu now reigned inthe Du Roy household, having taken the place and the days of the Countde Vaudrec, and spoke to the servants like a second master. Georgetolerated him with a quiver running through him like a dog who wants tobite, and dares not. But he was often harsh and brutal towardsMadeleine, who shrugged her shoulders and treated him like a clumsychild. She was, besides, astonished at his continual ill-humor, andrepeated: "I cannot make you out. You are always grumbling, and yet yourposition is a splendid one."
He would turn his back without replying.
He had declared at first that he would not go to the governor'sentertainment, and that he would never more set foot in the house ofthat dirty Jew. For two months Madame Walter had been writing to himdaily, begging him to come, to make an appointment with her whenever heliked, in order, she said, that she might hand over the seventy thousandfrancs she had gained for him. He did not reply, and threw thesedespairing letters into the fire. Not that he had renounced receivinghis share of their profits, but he wanted to madden her, to treat herwith contempt, to trample her under feet. She was too rich. He wanted toshow his pride. The very day of the exhibition of the picture, asMadeleine pointed out to him that he was very wrong not to go, hereplied: "Hold your tongue. I shall stay at home."
Then after dinner he suddenly said: "It will be better after all toundergo this affliction. Get dressed at once."
She was expecting this, and said: "I will be ready in a quarter of anhour." He dressed growling, and even in the cab he continued to spit outhis spleen.
The court-yard of the Carlsbourg mansion was lit up by four electriclights, looking like four small bluish moons, one at each corner. Asplendid carpet was laid down the high flight of steps, on each of whicha footman in livery stood motionless as a statue.
Du Roy muttered: "Here's a fine show-off for you," and shrugged hisshoulders, his heart contracted by jealousy.
His wife said: "Be quiet and do likewise."
They went in and handed their heavy outer garments to the footmen whoadvanced to meet them. Several ladies were also there with theirhusbands, freeing themselves from their furs. Murmurs of: "It is verybeautiful, very beautiful," could be heard. The immense entrance hallwas hung with tapestry, representing the adventures of Mars and Venus.To the right and left were the two branches of a colossal doublestaircase, which met on the first floor. The banisters were a marvel ofwrought-iron work, the dull old gilding of which glittered with discreetluster beside the steps of pink marble. At the entrance to thereception-rooms two little girls, one in a pink folly costume, and theother in a blue one, offered a bouquet of flowers to each lady. This washeld to be charming.
The reception-rooms were already crowded. Most of the ladies were inoutdoor dress, showing that they came there as to any other exhibition.Those who intended remaining for the ball were bare armed and barenecked. Madame Walter, surrounded by her friends, was in the second roomacknowledging the greetings of the visitors. Many of these did not knowher, and
walked about as though in a museum, without troublingthemselves about the masters of the house.
When she perceived Du Roy she grew livid, and made a movement as thoughto advance towards him. Then she remained motionless, awaiting him. Hegreeted her ceremoniously, while Madeleine overwhelmed her withaffection and compliments. Then George left his wife with her and losthimself in the crowd, to listen to the spiteful things that assuredlymust be said.
Five reception-rooms opened one into the other, hung with costly stuffs,Italian embroideries, or oriental rugs of varying shades and styles, andbearing on their walls pictures by old masters. People stopped, aboveall, to admire a small room in the Louis XVI style, a kind of boudoir,lined with silk, with bouquets of roses on a pale blue ground. Thefurniture, of gilt wood, upholstered in the same material, was admirablyfinished.
George recognized some well-known people--the Duchess de Ferracine, theCount and Countess de Ravenal, General Prince d'Andremont, the beautifulMarchioness des Dunes, and all those folk who are seen at firstperformances. He was suddenly seized by the arm, and a young and pleasedvoice murmured in his ear: "Ah! here you are at last, you naughtyPretty-boy. How is it one no longer sees you?"
It was Susan Walter, scanning him with her enamel-like eyes from beneaththe curly cloud of her fair hair. He was delighted to see her again, andfrankly pressed her hand. Then, excusing himself, he said: "I have notbeen able to come. I have had so much to do during the past two monthsthat I have not been out at all."
She said, with her serious air: "That is wrong, very wrong. You havecaused us a great deal of pain, for we adore you, mamma and I. As tomyself, I cannot get on without you. When you are not here I am boredto death. You see I tell you so plainly, so that you may no longer havethe right of disappearing like that. Give me your arm, I will show you'Jesus Walking on the Waters' myself; it is right away at the end,beyond the conservatory. Papa had it put there so that they should beobliged to see everything before they could get to it. It is astonishinghow he is showing off this place."
They went on quietly among the crowd. People turned round to look atthis good-looking fellow and this charming little doll. A well-knownpainter said: "What a pretty pair. They go capitally together."
George thought: "If I had been really clever, this is the girl I shouldhave married. It was possible. How is it I did not think of it? How didI come to take that other one? What a piece of stupidity. We always acttoo impetuously, and never reflect sufficiently."
And envy, bitter envy, sank drop by drop into his mind like a gall,embittering all his pleasures, and rendering existence hateful.
Susan was saying: "Oh! do come often, Pretty-boy; we will go in for allmanner of things now, papa is so rich. We will amuse ourselves likemadcaps."
He answered, still following up his idea: "Oh! you will marry now. Youwill marry some prince, a ruined one, and we shall scarcely see oneanother."
She exclaimed, frankly: "Oh! no, not yet. I want someone who pleases me,who pleases me a great deal, who pleases me altogether. I am rich enoughfor two."
He smiled with a haughty and ironical smile, and began to point out toher people that were passing, very noble folk who had sold their rustytitles to the daughters of financiers like herself, and who now livedwith or away from their wives, but free, impudent, known, and respected.He concluded with: "I will not give you six months before you are caughtwith that same bait. You will be a marchioness, a duchess or a princess,and will look down on me from a very great height, miss."
She grew indignant, tapped him on the arm with her fan, and vowed thatshe would marry according to the dictates of her heart.
He sneered: "We shall see about all that, you are too rich."
She remarked: "But you, too, have come in for an inheritance."
He uttered in a tone of contempt: "Oh! not worth speaking about.Scarcely twenty thousand francs a year, not much in these days."
"But your wife has also inherited."
"Yes. A million between us. Forty thousand francs' income. We cannoteven keep a carriage on it."
They had reached the last of the reception-rooms, and before them laythe conservatory--a huge winter garden full of tall, tropical trees,sheltering clumps of rare flowers. Penetrating beneath this sombergreenery, through which the light streamed like a flood of silver, theybreathed the warm odor of damp earth, and an air heavy with perfumes. Itwas a strange sensation, at once sweet, unwholesome, and pleasant, of anature that was artificial, soft, and enervating. They walked on carpetsexactly like moss, between two thick clumps of shrubs. All at once DuRoy noticed on his left, under a wide dome of palms, a broad basin ofwhite marble, large enough to bathe in, and on the edge of which fourlarge Delft swans poured forth water through their open beaks. Thebottom of the basin was strewn with golden sand, and swimming about init were some enormous goldfish, quaint Chinese monsters, with projectingeyes and scales edged with blue, mandarins of the waters, who recalled,thus suspended above this gold-colored ground, the embroideries of theFlowery Land. The journalist halted with beating heart. He said tohimself: "Here is luxury. These are the houses in which one ought tolive. Others have arrived at it. Why should not I?"
He thought of means of doing so; did not find them at once, and grewirritated at his powerlessness. His companion, somewhat thoughtful, didnot speak. He looked at her in sidelong fashion, and again thought: "Tomarry this little puppet would suffice."
But Susan all at once seemed to wake up. "Attention!" said she; andpushing George through a group which barred their way, she made him turnsharply to the right.
In the midst of a thicket of strange plants, which extended in the airtheir quivering leaves, opening like hands with slender fingers, wasseen the motionless figure of a man standing on the sea. The effect wassurprising. The picture, the sides of which were hidden in the movingfoliage, seemed a black spot upon a fantastic and striking horizon. Ithad to be carefully looked at in order to understand it. The frame cutthe center of the ship in which were the apostles, scarcely lit up bythe oblique rays from a lantern, the full light of which one of them,seated on the bulwarks, was casting upon the approaching Savior. Jesuswas advancing with his foot upon a wave, which flattened itselfsubmissively and caressingly beneath the divine tread. All was darkabout him. Only the stars shone in the sky. The faces of the apostles,in the vague light of the lantern, seemed convulsed with surprise. Itwas a wonderful and unexpected work of a master; one of those workswhich agitate the mind and give you something to dream of for years.People who look at such things at the outset remain silent, and then gothoughtfully away, and only speak later on of the worth of the painting.Du Roy, having contemplated it for some time, said: "It is nice to be
able to afford such trifles."
But as he was pushed against by others coming to see it, he went away,still keeping on his arm Susan's little hand, which he squeezedslightly. She said: "Would you like a glass of champagne? Come to therefreshment buffet. We shall find papa there."
And they slowly passed back through the saloons, in which the crowd wasincreasing, noisy and at home, the fashionable crowd of a public fete.George all at once thought he heard a voice say: "It is Laroche-Mathieuand Madame Du Roy." These words flitted past his ear like those distantsounds borne by the wind. Whence came they? He looked about on allsides, and indeed saw his wife passing by on the minister's arm. Theywere chatting intimately in a low tone, smiling, and with their eyesfixed on one another's. He fancied he noticed that people whispered asthey looked at them, and he felt within him a stupid and brutal desireto spring upon them, these two creatures, and smite them down. She wasmaking him ridiculous. He thought of Forestier. Perhaps they weresaying: "That cuckold Du Roy." Who was she? A little parvenu sharpenough, but really not over-gifted with parts. People visited himbecause they feared him, because they felt his strength, but they mustspeak in unrestrained fashion of this little journalistic household. Hewould never make any great way with this woman, who would always renderhis home a suspected one, who would al
ways compromise herself, whosevery bearing betrayed the woman of intrigue. She would now be a cannonball riveted to his ankle. Ah! if he had only known, if he had onlyguessed. What a bigger game he would have played. What a fine match hemight have won with this little Susan for stakes. How was it he had beenblind enough not to understand that?
They reached the dining-room--an immense apartment, with marble columns,and walls hung with old tapestry. Walter perceived his descriptivewriter, and darted forward to take him by the hands. He was intoxicatedwith joy. "Have you seen everything? Have you shown him everything,Susan? What a lot of people, eh, Pretty-boy! Did you see the Prince deGuerche? He came and drank a glass of punch here just now," heexclaimed.
Then he darted towards the Senator Rissolin, who was towing along hiswife, bewildered, and bedecked like a stall at a fair. A gentleman bowedto Susan, a tall, thin fellow, slightly bald, with yellow whiskers, andthat air of good breeding which is everywhere recognizable. George heardhis name mentioned, the Marquis de Cazolles, and became suddenly jealousof him. How long had she known him? Since her accession to wealth, nodoubt. He divined a suitor.
He was taken by the arm. It was Norbert de Varenne. The old poet wasairing his long hair and worn dress-coat with a weary and indifferentair. "This is what they call amusing themselves," said he. "By and bythey will dance, and then they will go bed, and the little girls will bedelighted. Have some champagne. It is capital."
He had a glass filled for himself, and bowing to Du Roy, who had takenanother, said: "I drink to the triumph of wit over wealth." Then headded softly: "Not that wealth on the part of others hurts me; or that Iam angry at it. But I protest on principle."
George no longer listened to him. He was looking for Susan, who had justdisappeared with the Marquis de Cazolles, and abruptly quitting Norbertde Varenne, set out in pursuit of the young girl. A dense crowd in questof refreshments checked him. When he at length made his way through it,he found himself face to face with the de Marelles. He was still in thehabit of meeting the wife, but he had not for some time past met thehusband, who seized both his hands, saying: "How can I thank you, mydear fellow, for the advice you gave me through Clotilde. I have gainedclose on a hundred thousand francs over the Morocco loan. It is to you Iowe them. You are a valuable friend."
Several men turned round to look at the pretty and elegant brunette. DuRoy replied: "In exchange for that service, my dear fellow, I am goingto take your wife, or rather to offer her my arm. Husband and wife arebest apart, you know."
Monsieur de Marelle bowed, saying: "You are quite right. If I lose you,we will meet here in an hour."
"Exactly."
The pair plunged into the crowd, followed by the husband. Clotilde keptsaying: "How lucky these Walters are! That is what it is to havebusiness intelligence."
George replied: "Bah! Clever men always make a position one way oranother."
She said: "Here are two girls who will have from twenty to thirtymillions apiece. Without reckoning that Susan is pretty."
He said nothing. His own idea, coming from another's mouth, irritatedhim. She had not yet seen the picture of "Jesus Walking on the Water,"and he proposed to take her to it. They amused themselves by talkingscandal of the people they recognized, and making fun of those they didnot. Saint-Potin passed by, bearing on the lapel of his coat a number of
decorations, which greatly amused them. An ex-ambassador following himshowed far fewer.
Du Roy remarked: "What a mixed salad of society."
Boisrenard, who shook hands with him, had also adorned his buttonholewith the green and yellow ribbon worn on the day of the duel. TheViscountess de Percemur, fat and bedecked, was chatting with a duke inthe little Louis XVI boudoir.
George whispered: "An amorous _tete-a-tete_."
But on passing through the greenhouse, he noticed his wife seated besideLaroche-Mathieu, both almost hidden behind a clump of plants. Theyseemed to be asserting: "We have appointed a meeting here, a meeting inpublic. For we do not care a rap what people think."
Madame de Marelle agreed that the Jesus of Karl Marcowitch wasastounding, and they retraced their steps. They had lost her husband.George inquired: "And Laurine, is she still angry with me?"
"Yes, still so as much as ever. She refuses to see you, and walks awaywhen you are spoken of."
He did not reply. The sudden enmity of this little girl vexed andoppressed him. Susan seized on them as they passed through a doorway,exclaiming: "Ah! here you are. Well, Pretty-boy, you must remain alone.I am going to take away Clotilde to show her my room."
The two moved rapidly away, gliding through the throng with thatundulating snake-like motion women know how to adopt in a crowd. Almostimmediately a voice murmured: "George."
It was Madame Walter, who went on in a low tone: "Oh! how ferociouslycruel you are. How you do make me suffer without reason. I told Susan toget your companion away in order to be able to say a word to you.Listen, I must speak to you this evening, I must, or you don't know whatI will do. Go into the conservatory. You will find a door on the leftleading into the garden. Follow the path in front of it. At the end ofit you will find an arbor. Wait for me there in ten minutes' time. Ifyou won't, I declare to you that I will create a scene here at once."
He replied loftily: "Very well. I will be at the spot you mention withinten minutes."
And they separated. But Jacques Rival almost made him behindhand. He hadtaken him by the arm and was telling him a lot of things in a veryexcited manner. He had no doubt come from the refreshment buffet. Atlength Du Roy left him in the hands of Monsieur de Marelle, whom he hadcome across, and bolted. He still had to take precautions not to be seenby his wife or Laroche-Mathieu. He succeeded, for they seemed deeplyinterested in something, and found himself in the garden. The cold airstruck him like an ice bath. He thought: "Confound it, I shall catchcold," and tied his pocket-handkerchief round his neck. Then he slowlywent along the walk, seeing his way with difficulty after coming out ofthe bright light of the reception-rooms. He could distinguish to theright and left leafless shrubs, the branches of which were quivering.Light filtered through their branches, coming from the windows of themansion. He saw something white in the middle of the path in front ofhim, and Madame Walter, with bare arms and bosom, said in a quiveringvoice; "Ah here you are; you want to kill me, then?"
He answered quickly: "No melodramatics, I beg of you, or I shall bolt atonce."
She had seized him round the neck, and with her lips close to his, said:"But what have I done to you? You are behaving towards me like a wretch.What have I done to you?"
He tried to repulse her. "You wound your hair round every one of mybuttons the last time I saw you, and it almost brought about a rupturebetween my wife and myself."
She was surprised for a moment, and then, shaking her head, said: "Oh!your wife would not mind. It was one of your mistresses who had made ascene over it."
"I have no mistresses."
"Nonsense. But why do you no longer ever come to see me? Why do yourefuse to come to dinner, even once a week, with me? What I suffer isfearful. I love you to that degree that I no longer have a thought thatis not for you; that I see you continually before my eyes; that I can nolonger say a word without being afraid of uttering your name. You cannotunderstand that, I know. It seems to me that I am seized in some one'sclutches, tied up in a sack, I don't know what. Your remembrance, alwayswith me, clutches my throat, tears my chest, breaks my legs so as to nolonger leave me strength to walk. And I remain like an animal sittingall day on a chair thinking of you."
He looked at her with astonishment. She was no longer the big frolicsometomboy he had known, but a bewildered despairing woman, capable ofanything. A vague project, however, arose in his mind. He replied: "Mydear, love is not eternal. We take and we leave one another. But when itdrags on, as between us two, it becomes a terrible drag. I will have nomore of it. That is the truth. However, if you can be reasonable, andreceive and treat me as a friend, I will come as I used to. Do
you feelcapable of that?"
She placed her two bare arms on George's coat, and murmured: "I amcapable of anything in order to see you."
"Then it is agreed on," said he; "we are friends, and nothing more."
She stammered: "It is agreed on;" and then, holding out her lips to him:"One more kiss; the last."
He refused gently, saying: "No, we must keep to our agreement."
She turned aside, wiping away a couple of tears, and then, drawing fromher bosom a bundle of papers tied with pink silk ribbon, offered it toDu Roy, saying: "Here; it is your share of the profit in the Moroccoaffair. I was so pleased to have gained it for you. Here, take it."
He wanted to refuse, observing: "No, I will not take that money."
Then she grew indignant. "Ah! so you won't take it now. It is yours,yours, only. If you do not take it, I will throw it into the gutter. Youwon't act like that, George?"
He received the little bundle, and slipped it into his pocket.
"We must go in," said he, "you will catch cold."
She murmured: "So much the better, if I could die."
She took one of his hands, kissed it passionately, with rage anddespair, and fled towards the mansion. He returned, quietly reflecting.Then he re-entered the conservatory with haughty forehead and smilinglip. His wife and Laroche-Mathieu were no longer there. The crowd wasthinning. It was becoming evident that they would not stay for thedance. He perceived Susan arm-in-arm with her sister. They both cametowards him to ask him to dance the first quadrille with the Count deLatour Yvelin.
He was astonished, and asked: "Who is he, too?"
Susan answered maliciously: "A new friend of my sister's." Rose blushed,and murmured: "You are very spiteful, Susan; he is no more my friendthan yours."
Susan smiled, saying: "Oh! I know all about it."
Rose annoyed, turned her back on them and went away. Du Roy familiarlytook the elbow of the young girl left standing beside him, and said inhis caressing voice: "Listen, my dear, you believe me to be yourfriend?"
"Yes, Pretty-boy."
"You have confidence in me?" "Quite."
"You remember what I said to you just now?"
"What about?"
"About your marriage, or rather about the man you are going to marry.""Yes."
"Well, then, you will promise me one thing?"
"Yes; but what is it?"
"To consult me every time that your hand is asked for, and not to acceptanyone without taking my advice."
"Very well."
"And to keep this a secret between us two. Not a word of it to yourfather or your mother."
"Not a word."
"It is a promise, then?" "It is a promise."
Rival came up with a bustling air. "Mademoiselle, your papa wants youfor the dance."
She said: "Come along, Pretty-boy."
But he refused, having made up his mind to leave at once, wishing to bealone in order to think. Too many new ideas had entered his mind, and hebegan to look for his wife. In a short time he saw her drinkingchocolate at the buffet with two gentlemen unknown to him. Sheintroduced her husband without mentioning their names to him. After afew moments, he said, "Shall we go?"
"When you like."
She took his arm, and they walked back through the reception-rooms, inwhich the public were growing few. She said: "Where is Madame Walter, Ishould like to wish her good-bye?"
"It is better not to. She would try to keep us for the ball, and I havehad enough of this."
"That is so, you are quite right."
All the way home they were silent. But as soon as they were in theirroom Madeleine said smilingly, before even taking off her veil. "I havea surprise for you."
He growled ill-temperedly: "What is it?"
"Guess." "I will make no such effort."
"Well, the day after to-morrow is the first of January."
"Yes."
"The time for New Year's gifts."
"Yes."
"Here's one for you that Laroche-Mathieu gave me just now."
She gave him a little black box resembling a jewel-case. He opened itindifferently, and saw the cross of the Legion of Honor. He grewsomewhat pale, then smiled, and said: "I should have preferred tenmillions. That did not cost him much."
She had expected an outburst of joy, and was irritated at this coolness."You are really incredible. Nothing satisfies you now," said she.
He replied, tranquilly: "That man is only paying his debt, and he stillowes me a great deal."
She was astonished at his tone, and resumed: "It is though, a big thingat your age."
He remarked: "All things are relative. I could have something biggernow."
He had taken the case, and placing it on the mantel-shelf, looked forsome moments at the glittering star it contained. Then he closed it andwent to bed, shrugging his shoulders.
The _Journal Officiel_ of the first of January announced the nominationof Monsieur Prosper George Du Roy, journalist, to the dignity ofchevalier of the Legion of Honor, for special services. The name waswritten in two words, which gave George more pleasure than thederivation itself.
An hour after having read this piece of news he received a note fromMadame Walter begging him to come and dine with her that evening withhis wife, to celebrate his new honors. He hesitated for a few moments,and then throwing this note, written in ambiguous terms, into the fire,said to Madeleine:
"We are going to dinner at the Walter's this evening."
She was astonished. "Why, I thought you never wanted to set foot in thehouse again."
He only remarked: "I have changed my mind."
When they arrived Madame Walter was alone in the little Louis XVI.boudoir she had adopted for the reception of personal friends. Dressedin black, she had powdered her hair, which rendered her charming. Shehad the air at a distance of an old woman, and close at hand, of a youngone, and when one looked at her well, of a pretty snare for the eyes.
"You are in mourning?" inquired Madeleine.
She replied, sadly: "Yes, and no. I have not lost any relative. But Ihave reached the age when one wears the mourning of one's life. I wearit to-day to inaugurate it. In future I shall wear it in my heart."
Du Roy thought: "Will this resolution hold good?"
The dinner was somewhat dull. Susan alone chattered incessantly. Roseseemed preoccupied. The journalist was warmly congratulated. During theevening they strolled chatting through the saloons and the conservatory.As Du Roy was walking in the rear with Madame Walter, she checked him bythe arm.
"Listen," said she, in a low voice, "I will never speak to you ofanything again, never. But come and see me, George. It is impossible forme to live without you, impossible. It is indescribable torture. I feelyou, I cherish you before my eyes, in my heart, all day and all night.It is as though you had caused me to drink a poison which was eating meaway within. I cannot bear it, no, I cannot bear it. I am willing to benothing but an old woman for you. I have made my hair white to show youso, but come here, only come here from time to time as a friend."
She had taken his hand and was squeezing it, crushing it, burying hernails in his flesh.
He answered, quietly: "It is understood, then. It is useless to speak ofall that again. You see I came to-day at once on receiving your letter."
Walter, who had walked on in advance with his two daughters andMadeleine, was waiting for Du Roy beside the picture of "Jesus Walkingon the Waters."
"Fancy," said he, laughing, "I found my wife yesterday on her kneesbefore this picture, as if in a chapel. She was paying her devotions.How I did laugh."
Madame Walter replied in a firm voice--a voice thrilling with secretexultation: "It is that Christ who will save my soul. He gives mestrength and courage every time I look at Him." And pausing in front ofthe Divinity standing amidst the waters, she murmured: "How handsome heis. How afraid of Him those men are, and yet how they love Him. Look atHis head, His eyes--how simple yet how supernatural at the same time."
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p; Susan exclaimed, "But He resembles you, Pretty-boy. I am sure Heresembles you. If you had a beard, or if He was clean shaven, you wouldbe both alike. Oh, but it is striking!"
She insisted on his standing beside the picture, and they all, indeed,recognized that the two faces resembled one another. Everyone wasastonished. Walter thought it very singular. Madeleine, smiling,declared that Jesus had a more manly air. Madame Walter stoodmotionless, gazing fixedly at the face of her lover beside the face ofChrist, and had become as white as her hair.