Monsieur Cherami Part 53

"Then show him into the salon; I will go down."

She hastily finished her toilet, saying to herself:

"Monsieur Vauflers has probably sent some friend of his to tell me what he has done on the Bourse. It's after four o'clock; yes, it must be that."

Cherami, being ushered into the salon, scrutinized the furniture, muttering:

"It's not bad, it's very _chic!_ I used to have such quarters myself.

It's more comfortable than the Widow Louchard's lodgings. But one has his ups and downs all the same, even in such surroundings."

f.a.n.n.y appeared at last; she bowed to her visitor, who seemed to her to have "a funny look"; for such is the fashionable method of describing what one does not know how to describe; then she pointed to a chair, and said:

"You wish to speak to me, monsieur? about some business at the Bourse, I presume?"

Cherami was embarra.s.sed at the sight of the young woman. He realized that his mission was more difficult to execute than he had thought; however, he sat down, stammering:

"Madame--it is--it is on the subject----"

"Of to-day's market, is it not?"

"No, not to-day's, madame; but it was the Bourse which caused--which brought about the event--the calamity----"

"Be kind enough, monsieur, to explain yourself more clearly, for I do not understand you at all."

Cherami bit his lips, seeking the best method of preparing the young woman for what he had to tell her; and after reflecting for a considerable time, he cried:

"Madame, I came to tell you that your husband is dead!"

f.a.n.n.y started from her seat, gazed at the man before her, and rejoined, with a shrug of her shoulders:

"If this is a joke, monsieur, allow me to inform you that it is in execrable taste."

"Therefore I should not have the hardihood to indulge in it, madame. I did not come here with any purpose of joking; what I say to you, I say in all seriousness."

"But I saw my husband at breakfast this forenoon, monsieur. He was not ill, not even indisposed. What, in heaven's name, can have happened to him?"

"Nothing has happened to him; he himself thought it best to put an end to his own life; and he blew out his brains in the Bois de Boulogne, about half-past two o'clock."

f.a.n.n.y changed color, but did not lose courage.

"No, monsieur; it's not possible," she rejoined; "there is some mistake, it cannot be my husband. Why should Auguste kill himself--young, rich, and happy as he was?"

"It would seem, madame, that he was much less happy than you like to think. And as to being rich, he was so no longer, for he had ruined himself utterly on the Bourse; he was penniless, and he lacked the courage to endure these hard blows of fortune."

"Ruined!" cried the young woman, springing to her feet. "What do you say, monsieur? Ruined! why, then I am ruined, too! Then I have nothing!

Why, that would be too terrible; it would be ghastly!"

"Poor Auguste was right," thought Cherami, observing f.a.n.n.y's despair; "it isn't his death that grieves his wife most."

"But, monsieur, how do you know--how did you learn of this event? And even if my husband is dead, how do you know that he was ruined?"

"Be good enough to listen a moment, madame. This noon, after breakfasting at Pa.s.sy with some worthy people,--who must be expecting me to dinner at this moment, by the way, but I shall not go,--I had gone to smoke a cigar in the Bois de Boulogne, where there were very few people, the cold being so intense. There I met your husband; we were acquainted, he had seen me on a certain occasion--in short, he knew what sort of man I am. He came to me and asked me if I would do him an important service; as you may imagine, madame, I placed myself at his disposal. We went to a cafe, where he wrote two letters. One was for me, which he made me promise not to open until half an hour after he had left me; then he went away. I waited the half-hour, then opened the letter. He told me therein of his deplorable determination, and of the reasons which had led him to it; then he requested me to take the other letter--to its address."

"For whom was that other letter?"

"For you, madame. Here it is."

f.a.n.n.y took in a trembling hand the letter which Cherami handed her, and read in an altered voice:

"'I thought, madame, that by marrying you I ensured the happiness of both; I was mistaken; I needed a loving wife to calm and allay the vivacity of my pa.s.sions; I found in you simply a woman who adored money and pleasure above all else.'"

At that, f.a.n.n.y paused, and read the remainder of the letter to herself:

"I make no reproaches, madame; a woman cannot recast her nature, especially at your age. Feeling is a gift of nature, as selfishness is a vice of the heart; I judged you ill; it was my fault, not yours. Being unable to enjoy the domestic happiness of which I had dreamed, I tried to replace it by all the enjoyments arising from vanity; I have failed, and I have lost all that I possessed. You, too, are interested in the Bourse; take my advice, madame, and do not speculate."

Again f.a.n.n.y paused, to heave a tremendous sigh, then read on:

"But, madame, do not fear that I leave you burdened with debts; I have met all my obligations; I have paid everything, and my name will remain without blemish, at all events. You can bear it without a blush."

The young woman made a slight movement of the shoulders, which seemed to indicate that she was not overjoyed because her husband had paid all his debts; she even muttered between her teeth:

"That's a valuable thing for him to leave me--his name! and nothing with it! Ah! there's something more written here."

"I have not touched your _dot_; you will find it intact in the notary's hands. With what you obtain from the sale of our furniture, which is very handsome, and our horses and carriages, you will have enough to live in a modest way. Adieu, f.a.n.n.y; be happy! I cannot be happy again in this world, and that is why I leave it; adieu!"

The last paragraph seemed to have soothed f.a.n.n.y's despair in some measure; however, she covered her eyes with her handkerchief, and held it so for some time. Cherami, who had watched her closely while she read her husband's letter, said to himself at that proceeding:

"Oh! it's of no use for you to put your handkerchief to your eyes; I'll bet that you're not crying; and yet--a young husband--to lose him like that, and after hardly six months of married life! There are some women who would have fainted; but she's a strong one!"

Thereupon he rose and took up his hat, saying:

"Madame, I have carried out the melancholy commission which your husband intrusted to me. As I imagine that my presence is no longer necessary, I will retire."

x.x.xVII

A WEAK WOMAN

f.a.n.n.y hastily uncovered her face.

"Pardon me, monsieur," she said; "but as you were kind enough to carry out Monsieur Monleard's last wishes, may I hope that you will show yourself equally obliging to his widow?"

"I will do whatever you bid me, madame, too happy to be able to be of some service to you as well as to him."

"Thanks a thousand times, monsieur! You know now the position in which I stand. It seems to you, perhaps, that I have taken very coolly the calamity which has come upon me?"