Married Part 12

As for him, he felt a man. Instead of talking of the Baron's horses and the Count's cricket matches, he now talked, too much almost, of his son.

And when occasionally he was obliged to be out of an evening, he always longed for his own fireside; not because his wife sat there waiting for him, like an evil conscience, but because he knew that she was not alone.

And when he came home, both mother and child were asleep. He was almost jealous of the baby, for there had been a certain charm in the thought that while he was out, somebody was sitting alone at home, eagerly awaiting his return.

Now he was allowed his afternoon nap. And as soon as he had gone back to town, the piano was opened and the favourite song of the _Rose in the Wood_ was sung, for it was quite new to Harold, and had regained all its freshness for poor little Laura who hadn't heard it for so many days.

She had no time now for crochet work, but there were plenty of antimaca.s.sars in the house. He, on his part, could not spare the time for his dissertation.

"Harold shall write it," said the father, for he knew now that his life would not be over when he came to die.

Many an evening they sat together, as before, and gossiped, but now both took a share in the conversation, for now she understood what they were talking about.

She confessed that she was a silly girl who knew nothing about religion and the drama; but she said that she had always told him so, and that he had refused to believe it.

But now he believed it less than ever.

They sang the old favourite song, and Harold crowed, they danced to the tune and rocked the baby's cradle to it, and the song always retained its freshness and charm.

FRICTIONS

His eyes had been opened. He realised the perversity of the world, but he lacked the power to penetrate the darkness and discover the cause of this perversity; therefore he gave himself up to despair, a disillusioned man. Then he fell in love with a girl who married somebody else. He complained of her conduct to his friends, male and female, but they only laughed at him. For a little while longer he trod his solitary path alone and misunderstood. He belonged to "society,"

and joined in its pursuits, because it distracted him; but at the bottom of his heart he had nothing but contempt for its amus.e.m.e.nts, which he took no pains to conceal.

One evening he was present at a ball. He danced with a young woman of unusual beauty and animation. When the band ceased playing, he remained standing by her side. He knew he ought to talk to her but he did not know what to say. After a while the girl broke the silence.

"You are fond of dancing, Baron?" she said with a cold, smile.

"Oh no! not at all," he answered. "Are you?"

"I can't imagine anything more foolish," she replied.

He had met his man, or rather his woman.

"Why do you dance, then?" he asked.

"For the same reason that you do."

"Can you read my mind?"

"Easily enough; if two people think alike, the other always knows."

"H'm! You're a strange woman! Do you believe in love?"

"No!"

"Nor do I! You and I ought to get married."

"I'm beginning to think so myself."

"Would you marry me?"

"Why not? At any rate, we shouldn't fight."

"Horrible idea! But how can you be so sure?"

"Because we think alike."

"Yes, but that might become monotonous. We should have nothing to talk about, because the one would always know what the other is thinking."

"True; but wouldn't it be even more monotonous if we remained unmarried and misunderstood?"

"You are right! Would you like to think it over?"

"Yes, until the cotillon."

"No longer?"

"Why any longer?"

He took her back to the drawing-room and left her there, drank several gla.s.ses of champagne and watched her during supper. She allowed two young members of the Diplomatic Corps to wait on her, but made fun of them all the time and treated them as if they were footmen.

As soon as the cotillon began, he went to her and offered her a bouquet.

"Do you accept me?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied.

And so they were engaged.

It's a splendid match, said the world. They are made for one another.

They are equals as far as social position and money are concerned.

They hold the same blase views of life. By blase the world meant that they cared very little for dances, theatres, bazaars, and other n.o.ble sports without which life is not really worth living.

They were like carefully wiped twin slates, exactly alike; but utterly unable to surmise whether or not life would write the same legend on both. They never asked one another during the tender moments of their engagement: Do you love me? They knew quite well that it was impossible, because they did not believe in love. They talked little, but they understood one another perfectly.

And they married.

He was always attentive, always polite, and they were good friends.

When the baby was born, it had but one effect on their relations.h.i.+p; they had something to talk about now.

But by-and-by the husband began to reveal a certain energy. He had a sense of duty, and moreover, he was sick of being idle. He had a private income, but was in no way connected with politics or the Government. Now he looked round for some occupation which would fill the void in his life. He had heard the first morning call of the awakening spirits and felt it his duty to do his share of the great work of research into the causes of human misery. He read much, made a careful study of politics and eventually wrote an article and sent it to a paper. The consequence was that he was elected a member of the Board of Education. This necessitated hard reading in future, for all questions were to be threshed out thoroughly.

The Baroness lay on the sofa and read Chateaubriand and Musset. She had no faith in the improvement of humanity, and this stirring up of the dust and mould which the centuries had deposited on human inst.i.tutions irritated her. Yet she noticed that she did not keep pace with her husband. They were like two horses at a race. They had been weighed before the start and been found to be of the same weight; they had promised to keep side by side during the run; everything was calculated to make them finish the race and leave the course at the same time. But already the husband had gained by the length of a neck.