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Frederick, who felt himself constrained by necessity, ended by taking the four thousand francs from him. And so they had no more disquietude so far as the Vatnaz was concerned.
But it was not long ere Rosanette was defeated in her action against Arnoux; and through sheer obstinacy she wished to appeal.
Deslauriers exhausted his energies in trying to make her understand that Arnoux's promise const.i.tuted neither a gift nor a regular transfer. She did not even pay the slightest attention to him, her notion being that the law was unjust--it was because she was a woman; men backed up each other amongst themselves. In the end, however, she followed his advice.
He made himself so much at home in the house, that on several occasions he brought Senecal to dine there. Frederick, who had advanced him money, and even got his own tailor to supply him with clothes, did not like this unceremoniousness; and the advocate gave his old clothes to the Socialist, whose means of existence were now of an exceedingly uncertain character.
He was, however, anxious to be of service to Rosanette. One day, when she showed him a dozen shares in the Kaolin Company (that enterprise which led to Arnoux being cast in damages to the extent of thirty thousand francs), he said to her:
"But this is a shady transaction, and you have now a grand chance!"
She had the right to call on him to pay her debts. In the first place, she could prove that he was jointly bound to pay all the company's liabilities, since he had certified personal debts as collective debts--in short, he had embezzled sums which were payable only to the company.
"All this renders him guilty of fraudulent bankruptcy under articles 586 and 587 of the Commercial Code, and you may be sure, my pet, we'll send him packing."
Rosanette threw herself on his neck. He entrusted her case next day to his former master, not having time to devote attention to it himself, as he had business at Nogent. In case of any urgency, Senecal could write to him.
His negotiations for the purchase of an office were a mere pretext. He spent his time at M. Roque's house, where he had begun not only by sounding the praises of their friend, but by imitating his manners and language as much as possible; and in this way he had gained Louise's confidence, while he won over that of her father by making an attack on Ledru-Rollin.
If Frederick did not return, it was because he mingled in aristocratic society, and gradually Deslauriers gave them to understand that he was in love with somebody, that he had a child, and that he was keeping a fallen creature.
The despair of Louise was intense. The indignation of Madame Moreau was not less strong. She saw her son whirling towards the bottom of a gulf the depth of which could not be determined, was wounded in her religious ideas as to propriety, and as it were, experienced a sense of personal dishonour; then all of a sudden her physiognomy underwent a change. To the questions which people put to her with regard to Frederick, she replied in a sly fashion:
"He is well, quite well."'
She was aware that he was about to be married to Madame Dambreuse.
The date of the event had been fixed, and he was even trying to think of some way of making Rosanette swallow the thing.
About the middle of autumn she won her action with reference to the kaolin shares. Frederick was informed about it by Senecal, whom he met at his own door, on his way back from the courts.
It had been held that M. Arnoux was privy to all the frauds, and the ex-tutor had such an air of making merry over it that Frederick prevented him from coming further, a.s.suring Senecal that he would convey the intelligence to Rosanette. He presented himself before her with a look of irritation on his face.
"Well, now you are satisfied!"
But, without minding what he had said:
"Look here!"
And she pointed towards her child, which was lying in a cradle close to the fire. She had found it so sick at the house of the wet-nurse that morning that she had brought it back with her to Paris.
All the infant's limbs were exceedingly thin, and the lips were covered with white specks, which in the interior of the mouth became, so to speak, clots of blood-stained milk.
"What did the doctor say?"
"Oh! the doctor! He pretends that the journey has increased his--I don't know what it is, some name in 'ite'--in short, that he has the thrush.[L] Do you know what that is?"
Frederick replied without hesitation: "Certainly," adding that it was nothing.
But in the evening he was alarmed by the child's debilitated look and by the progress of these whitish spots, resembling mould, as if life, already abandoning this little frame, had left now nothing but matter from which vegetation was sprouting. His hands were cold; he was no longer able to drink anything; and the nurse, another woman, whom the porter had gone and taken on chance at an office, kept repeating:
"It seems to me he's very low, very low!"
[L] This disease, consisting of ulceration of the tongue and palate, is also called _aphthae_--TRANSLATOR.
Rosanette was up all night with the child.
In the morning she went to look for Frederick.
"Just come and look at him. He doesn't move any longer."
In fact, he was dead. She took him up, shook him, clasped him in her arms, calling him most tender names, covered him with kisses, broke into sobs, turned herself from one side to the other in a state of distraction, tore her hair, uttered a number of shrieks, and then let herself sink on the edge of the divan, where she lay with her mouth open and a flood of tears rushing from her wildly-glaring eyes.
Then a torpor fell upon her, and all became still in the apartment. The furniture was overturned. Two or three napkins were lying on the floor.
It struck six. The night-light had gone out.
Frederick, as he gazed at the scene, could almost believe that he was dreaming. His heart was oppressed with anguish. It seemed to him that this death was only a beginning, and that behind it was a worse calamity, which was just about to come on.
Suddenly, Rosanette said in an appealing tone:
"We'll preserve the body--shall we not?"
She wished to have the dead child embalmed. There were many objections to this. The princ.i.p.al one, in Frederick's opinion, was that the thing was impracticable in the case of children so young. A portrait would be better. She adopted this idea. He wrote a line to Pellerin, and Delphine hastened to deliver it.
Pellerin arrived speedily, anxious by this display of zeal to efface all recollection of his former conduct. The first thing he said was:
"Poor little angel! Ah, my G.o.d, what a misfortune!"
But gradually (the artist in him getting the upper hand) he declared that nothing could be made out of those yellowish eyes, that livid face, that it was a real case of still-life, and would, therefore, require very great talent to treat it effectively; and so he murmured:
"Oh, 'tisn't easy--'tisn't easy!"
"No matter, as long as it is life-like," urged Rosanette.
"Pooh! what do I care about a thing being life-like? Down with Realism!
'Tis the spirit that must be portrayed by the painter! Let me alone! I am going to try to conjure up what it ought to be!"
He reflected, with his left hand clasping his brow, and with his right hand clutching his elbow; then, all of a sudden:
"Ha, I have an idea! a pastel! With coloured mezzotints, almost spread out flat, a lovely model could be obtained with the outer surface alone!"
He sent the chambermaid to look for his box of colours; then, having a chair under his feet and another by his side, he began to throw out great touches with as much complacency as if he had drawn them in accordance with the bust. He praised the little Saint John of Correggio, the Infanta Rosa of Velasquez, the milk-white flesh-tints of Reynolds, the distinction of Lawrence, and especially the child with long hair that sits in Lady Gower's lap.
"Besides, could you find anything more charming than these little toads?
The type of the sublime (Raphael has proved it by his Madonnas) is probably a mother with her child?"
Rosanette, who felt herself stifling, went away; and presently Pellerin said: