Monsieur Cherami Part 71

"How could you forget a thing of such importance? For, if it suits you, we must rent it at once."

"Oh! my dear friend, I am not anxious to stand here in the street any longer. What do we look like--talking like this on a doorstep?"

"Then let me come up a moment."

"No; I tell you that I am going to bed!"

"There's something wrong, f.a.n.n.y. This isn't natural. You're not the same with me that you were two days ago."

"You can tell me all that to-morrow. Good-night!"

"Very well, until to-morrow, then, madame! I trust that you will be visible?"

"Mon Dieu! monsieur, I am always visible when I am not sick. But don't come too early; for I don't rise with the dawn."

f.a.n.n.y knocked, and the door opened. She hurried in and closed the door on Gustave, who remained in the street, poor fellow, unable to make up his mind to leave his fair one's abode. He did not know what to believe.

He asked himself if he had not done wrong to reproach f.a.n.n.y; she had been to see one of her friends, and had returned alone: there was no great harm in that. And yet, he was ill at ease, he suffered; his heart told him that something was wrong, and that his love was not the same to him as before.

At last, after pacing back and forth in front of f.a.n.n.y's door for nearly an hour, gazing at those of her windows which were lighted, he decided to go away when the lights went out.

"I wish to-morrow were here," he thought.

Gustave did not close his eyes that night; where is the lover who could sleep, in his position? Only a lover who is not in love. At eight o'clock, the young man went down to the office, where there were as yet no clerks; but he found his uncle, who was always at his desk early.

"The deuce!" said Monsieur Grandcourt; "you're on hand in good season!

Was it love of work that woke you?"

"Yes, uncle; I have some accounts to look over."

"How pale you look, and exhausted! One would say that you had been up all night."

"I am just out of bed."

"I'll wager that you didn't sleep. Is there anything new in your love affair?"

"Why--no, uncle."

"Your dear f.a.n.n.y hasn't played you some new trick?"

"Ah! uncle, at the point we have reached----"

"It wouldn't surprise me at all."

"You have a very bad opinion of her."

"When a woman has made a fool of a man once, she will make a fool of him again--she will always do it! However, it would be better before marriage than after. Come and breakfast with me."

"It's too early, uncle; I am not hungry. By the way, have you thought about Arthur?"

"Who's Arthur?"

"Arthur Cherami; a good, honest fellow who is looking for a place."

"Ah! your tall swashbuckler, who has such a scampish look--always ready to fly at you? Upon my word, you are not fortunate in your friends.h.i.+ps!

What sort of a place do you suppose anyone would give to that fellow? He doesn't inspire the slightest confidence in me. He was rich once, and he squandered his whole property: a fine recommendation!"

"I believe that you judge him too harshly. A man may have done foolish things, and have turned over a new leaf. With you, uncle, repentance counts for nothing."

"Repentance has one great defect in my eyes: it never comes till after the wrong-doing. If a man could repent before he went wrong, that is to say, stop before he fell, then I should have a much higher opinion of repentance. Well, where are you going? leaving the office already?"

Gustave could not keep still. He left the office, and ran all the way to f.a.n.n.y's house; then stopped and looked at his watch. It was barely nine o'clock; impossible to call upon her so early. The young man walked up Faubourg Poissonniere and kept on past the barrier; little he cared where he went, so long as the time pa.s.sed. Suddenly he ran into a tree, which his complete absorption in his thoughts had prevented his seeing.

At that, he halted and looked about him, and was surprised to find that he was in the open country. But he felt that the air was keener and purer there, that it refreshed the mind and calmed the beating of the heart; and he sat down at the foot of the tree. He breathed more freely, he felt sensibly relieved. Ah! what a skilful physician the air is, and what marvellous cures we owe to it!

Gustave sat for a long while at the foot of the tree, which was bare of leaves; for it was late in October. He reviewed in his mind the whole of f.a.n.n.y's conduct during the last two days, and wondered if his uncle were right after all. At last he rose and returned to Paris. It was nearly eleven o'clock when he reached the young widow's door. But he could wait no longer; he rang the bell violently, and the maid ushered him into her mistress's presence.

XLIX

THE SECOND TIME

f.a.n.n.y was sitting by the fire, in a dainty morning gown; for she was a woman who never allowed herself to be surprised in deshabille; but her expression was cold and stern, as of a person who had made up her mind and was prepared for a rupture.

"I have come a little early, I fear," said Gustave, taking a seat, and seeking in vain an affable smile on the widow's features; "but you will surely forgive my impatience, I was so anxious to see you. I had almost no chance to speak to you last night, and I had so many things to say!"

"I, too, wished to speak with you, monsieur. I, too, have several things to say to you."

"_Monsieur!_ What! you call me _monsieur?_ What does that mean?"

"In heaven's name, let us not quibble over words. If I call you _monsieur_ now, I do so in consequence of certain reflections I have made since yesterday. Do you know that I don't like to be followed, spied upon; that a jealous man is an unendurable creature to me?"

"Ah! you are trying to quarrel with me, madame?"

"No, I am not; but I am telling you frankly the subject of my reflections; and the result of those reflections is----"

"Is what? go on, madame."

"Is that I am afraid that I shall not make you happy, Gustave. I am naturally giddy, frivolous,--but I cannot change,--and my temperament would not harmonize at all with yours. Consequently we shall do much better not to marry. Oh! I have come to this decision solely in my solicitude for your happiness."

Gustave sprang to his feet so suddenly that the little widow could not restrain a gesture of terror. He took his stand in front of her, with folded arms, and gazed sternly at her, saying:

"So this is what you were aiming at--a rupture! And you dare to accuse me of spying, to try to put me in the wrong! to accuse me, when my conduct was simply the consequence of your own! Oh! don't think to deceive me again. Some other motive is behind your action. You have formed other plans."

"That does not concern you, monsieur! I believe that I am entirely free!

I trust that you will spare me your reproaches. Well-bred people simply part--they don't quarrel over it."