Brother Jacques Part 26

"I would like to be fascinating to you alone."

"Do you mean that I am unfaithful to you? I am really so good----"

"That some day you will be laughed at for it."

"Never fear, I love you only.--I am going to send a few more invitations; prepare for our party."

Edouard kissed his wife and left her. Adeline, in order to please him, inquired about what was to be done on the following day; she was alarmed at the magnitude of the expense, but it was too late to oppose it. After giving her orders, the young wife went to see her mother. It was on Madame Germeuil's bosom that she poured out her grief, though she concealed much of it, in order not to make her mother more bitter against her husband.

"Oh!" said Adeline, "so long as he is faithful to me, I shall have nothing to complain of. I can forgive him everything except indifference, which I absolutely could not endure."

The next day, at daybreak, everything was in confusion in the Murville establishment. The servants could not attend to the innumerable preparations which were under way on every side; workmen came to put carpets and chandeliers in place and vases of flowers along the stair-rails. The mirror-maker's apprentices, upholsterers, florists and decorators filled the salons, and got in the way of the footmen and other servants. Soon the caterers arrived, the pastry cooks and the ice dealer's men, who took possession of the servants' quarters and began the decoration of the sideboards, which were to be furnished in the evening in the most sumptuous way, and to offer everything which could fascinate the eyes, the nose and the palate at once. Adeline attempted to pa.s.s through several rooms to her husband's office; she was bewildered by the uproar, the shouts, the tumult; she could not recognize her own apartments. At last she spied Edouard walking about the salons, and watching with a self-satisfied air the preparations for the party.

"Well, my dear love," he said to his wife as soon as he caught sight of her, "what do you think of all this?"

"That I do not understand how anyone can take so much trouble to entertain people whom one does not know, and who feel no obligation for the pains which one takes to treat them so handsomely."

"But, my dear love, you must remember that a man does all this for his reputation's sake. Parbleu! I care nothing at all for the people whom I entertain; I am not at all anxious for their friendship, but I am anxious that people should say in society: 'Monsieur Murville's party was delightful, nothing was lacking; and everything was in the very best style. That function must have cost a tremendous sum!'--You will agree that that will do me credit; people will a.s.sume that I have a considerable fortune, and that I have more business than I desire.--Be sure to dress handsomely, and wear your diamonds; they are not so fine as I wish they were, but before long I hope to make you a present of a superb string of them."

"My dear, you know perfectly well that I do not want anything of that kind; your love alone----"

"It is getting late; go and dress."

The time fixed for the party arrived; between nine and ten o'clock, the carriages and the pedestrians--for some people always come on foot, even to the largest b.a.l.l.s--the courtyard of Murville's house in swarms. They crowded under the porte cochere; the coachmen insulted one another and disputed for precedence; the young women, wrapped in their pelisses or cloaks, jumped lightly to the landing, and waited, one for her mother, another for her husband, to take her up to the salons. The officious young man mounted the stairs gracefully, his body enveloped in an ample cloak lined with crimson velvet, which concealed almost the whole of his face, leaving only the end of his nose visible; he offered his hand to a young lady whose fear of the horses standing in the courtyard had separated her from her escort. The young gallant in the cloak saw only a pair of very expressive eyes and a few curls, for all the rest was concealed under the hood of a pelisse; but he saw enough to divine lovely features and the form of a nymph. He gently pressed the hand which she entrusted to him; he engaged his fair unknown for the first quadrille, and his hopes were aroused before he had even entered the reception room. That room was crowded; in one corner the ladies arranged their dresses, gave a last glance to their finery, which had become rumpled in the carriage; farther on, in a less brilliantly lighted spot, a number of economical bank clerks took slippers from their pockets and put them on in place of their shoes, which they carefully wrapped in large pieces of paper with their gaiters, and placed them under some heavy piece of furniture which was not likely to be moved. After effecting this slight change of costume, they carefully pulled their ruffs from their waistcoats, retied their cravats, pa.s.sed their hands through their hair, rumpling it or smoothing it according as their style of beauty required, and then, drawing themselves up proudly, entered the salon with an air of impertinence and conceit which was calculated to persuade all the other guests that they had come in a tilbury.

The salon was already filled with women of all ages; for by the face only, not by the dress, could the mother be distinguished from the daughter, the aunt from the niece. The men strolled about, eyegla.s.s in hand, and despite that little accessory, almost put their noses into the ladies' faces, as they stopped in front of them, making wry faces when one was not to their liking; while the ladies themselves smiled at them instead of spitting in their faces as their insolent manner of staring at them well deserved. Soon the crowd became so large that one could hardly move. That was the delightful moment; a young exquisite halted in front of a girl seated beside her mother, and made the most indecent gestures, which the poor child avoided only by keeping her own eyes constantly on the floor, which prevented her from enjoying the spectacle of the ball; but the young man was persistent; he did not stir from in front of her, and had the effrontery to interpret in his favor the blush which covered the brow of her whom he deigned to notice. A few steps away, another young exquisite pointed out to four or five of his friends a pretty woman whose husband stood nearby; he told them in confidence that she had been his mistress for a week; his friends congratulated him, and asked him for details concerning the lady's secret charms and her way of making love; he replied, laughing heartily, and gesticulating like one possessed, which could not fail to attract every eye, and to arouse the curiosity of those who did not hear him. Luckily the husband was of the latter number; but he desired to know what was being said, so he approached and enquired:

"What are you laughing at so loudly, gentlemen?"

"Oh! it was nothing, a joke he was telling us."

"Some rascality, I will wager; you are sad rakes!"

"You will find out later what it was."

And the young men dispersed, laughing louder than ever; the husband laughed with them; he did not know why, but he wanted to seem to be informed.

The signal to begin the dance was given, and an excellent orchestra, directed by Collinet, played several delightful quadrilles, which invited one to dance; fascinating tunes, selected from the masterpieces of the great masters, are now used as the theme and motif of a _poule_, _a trenis_, or a _pantalon_. How can one resist the temptation, when one has the opportunity to execute a pirouette, a _balance_, or an _entre-chat_ to pa.s.sages from Rossini, Mozart, or Boieldieu? The ear is no less charmed by the method of execution; modern quadrilles are little concerts for wind and stringed instruments; it requires talent to play them. We have left to the poor blind men such tunes as the Monaco, the Perigourdine and the Furstemberg; we need artistes to play the quadrilles of Weber, Collinet, Rubner, etc.

There was little room; the guests trod on one another's feet, and jostled one another; but they danced, and that was the essential thing; what joy for the young woman who desires to display her charms, and for the woman on the decline who flatters herself that she is still very light on her feet!

Those who were not attracted by the dancing and the music took their places at an ecarte table; there they abandoned themselves to their pa.s.sion for gambling, awaiting a favorable stroke of luck; they tried to fathom the play of their opponents, to read upon their faces what cards they had in their hands. They forgot their wives or their daughters; and very frequently those ladies in the salon forgot those who were at the ecarte table.

The bets opened and soon became very considerable; young men, who should have paid no heed to aught except the ladies and the dance, waited anxiously to see if their adversary would turn a king; their blood boiled; the sight of gold, the hope of winning, led them on; and more than one, who walked away from the tables with empty pockets, would refuse the next day to give money to his tailor or his bootmaker; while our economical friends of the shoes and the gaiters, who had allowed themselves to be led astray by example, observed to one another as they took off their slippers, that they would have done better to hire a cab than to bet or play ecarte.

Others had recourse to the sideboard for consolation and stuffed themselves with pastry and refreshments; the greatest glutton took the most delicate sweetmeats, on the pretext that he was taking them to the ladies. What horrible waste there is in such mobs! Plates overturned, one dish cast aside to take another, of which three-quarters is left; the creams that the guests s.n.a.t.c.h from one another; the bonbons that disappear before one has time to take one;--such is the ordinary course of collations at large parties; the sideboard is always being pillaged, and the young men who surround it act as if they had eaten nothing for a week. What an extraordinary way for people in good society to behave!

Adeline tried to discover some acquaintance amid the crowd and the tumult; but most of the faces were unknown to her. Weary of listening to insipid or exaggerated compliments, addressed to her by men whom she did not know, and disgusted at being stared at through the eyegla.s.ses of these men, the young woman seized a moment when everybody was busy according to his or her taste, to go to her room, to make sure that her daughter was asleep, and to enjoy, by embracing her, the only pleasure that that evening could afford her.

To reach the room where her little Ermance was in bed, Adeline was obliged to leave her guests altogether, for she had determined that her child should not be awakened by the noise; she pa.s.sed through several half-lighted rooms and finally reached her daughter's side; she paused by the cradle and gazed at Ermance, who was sleeping peacefully. With her mind more at ease, Adeline was going back to her guests; but, as she entered a dimly-lighted boudoir which adjoined her daughter's bedroom, she saw some one gliding along the wall. A feeling of alarm took possession of her.

"Who is there?" she said instantly.

"Don't be afraid, madame; I am distressed to have taken you so by surprise."

Adeline recovered herself, for she recognized Dufresne's voice, and asked: "What are you seeking here?"

"The noise and heat of the salon made me feel uncomfortable; I was very glad to be able to come away and rest for a moment."

Adeline went into the next room for a lamp, and brought it into the room where Dufresne had remained; he followed her every movement with his eyes, and seemed intensely agitated.

"If you are not feeling well, I will go and bring you something."

"Oh, no! stay, madame, I beg you; your presence is a hundred times more beneficial to me."

Dufresne had taken Adeline's hand; she, amazed by the extraordinary tone and by the fire with which he addressed her, did not know what reply to make, but stood before him sorely embarra.s.sed. Dufresne squeezed violently the hand that he held in his. Adeline withdrew it at once in dismay, and started to leave the room, but he stood in front of her and stopped her.

"What do you want of me?" she said to him, her voice trembling with a feeling of terror she could not explain.

"That you should listen to me, madame, that you should deign to listen to me."

"What have you to say to me, pray, that demands so much mystery? We might talk quite as well in the salon."

"No, madame, no,--here. Ah! for a long while I have been postponing this moment; but I feel that it is impossible for me to conceal longer the pa.s.sion which consumes me; no, I am no longer able to see you, to contemplate so many charms, without giving expression to the ardor which devours me."

"What are you saying to me, monsieur?"

"That I love you, that I adore you, lovely Adeline, and that you must be mine!"

"Merciful heaven! What do I hear?"

"Learn all at last; know that from the first moment that I saw you, you have been the object of all my thoughts, of all my desires, the goal of all my acts; I became intimate with Madame Dolban only to obtain an opportunity to be introduced at your house; that hope and the hope of winning your favor some day alone prevented me from committing some foolish extravagance between the day of your wedding and the day when I was introduced to you. But how I suffered then, concealing from everyone the flame which consumed me! and what torments have I not endured when I have seen you lavishing upon my fortunate rival all those caresses which he received with indifference, whereas a single one would have been the height of felicity to me."

"This is too much, monsieur; I have restrained my indignation, but I shall no longer be able to do so, if I listen to you any more."

"Your indignation! Wherein do I deserve it?"

"To call my husband your rival, and in return for his friendship to try to win his wife--such conduct is shocking!"

"Such conduct is very common, and it only seems shocking to you because you do not share my sentiments; for, if you loved me, instead of being a monster, I should be an unhappy wretch consumed by an insurmountable pa.s.sion, suffering for a long while and concealing his agony from every eye, even before her who is the cause of it. Such conduct then would not seem criminal to you; so much love and constancy would arouse your pity at least, and you would accord it to me, madame, you would listen to me without anger, and perhaps a gentler sentiment would plead my cause in your heart, and would help me to obtain the reward of all my attentions.

That, madame, is what you should consider. I adore you--that is my crime; it will cease to be a crime if you share my pa.s.sion; success insures forgiveness for the most audacious enterprises, and I shall be guilty only if you hate me."

"Your speeches, monsieur, will never justify you in my eyes. I might excuse your love, but not your hope of inducing me to share it. A person is not master of his heart, I believe, but he is master of his conduct, and yours is unworthy of a decent man----"

"Madame----"

"Never speak to me again of your love; only on that condition do I agree to forget this conversation and to refrain from repeating it to my husband."

"Your husband! He wouldn't believe you."