She had the politeness to accompany him to the gate, escorted by Marianne, who carried a lantern.
The two friends kept their love affairs hidden from each other.
Pecuchet counted on always cloaking his intrigue with the servant-maid.
If Bouvard made any opposition to it, he could carry her off to other places, even though it were to Algeria, where living is not so dear. But he rarely indulged in such speculations, full as he was of his pa.s.sion, without thinking of the consequences.
Bouvard conceived the idea of converting the museum into the bridal chamber, unless Pecuchet objected, in which case he might take up his residence at his wife"s house.
One afternoon in the following week--it was in her garden; the buds were just opening, and between the clouds there were great blue s.p.a.ces--she stopped to gather some violets, and said as she offered them to him:
"Salute Madame Bouvard!"
"What! Is it true?"
"Perfectly true."
He was about to clasp her in his arms. She kept him back. "What a man!"
Then, growing serious, she warned him that she would shortly be asking him for a favour.
""Tis granted."
They fixed the following Thursday for the formality of signing the marriage contract.
n.o.body should know anything about it up to the last moment.
"Agreed."
And off he went, looking up towards the sky, nimble as a roebuck.
Pecuchet on the morning of the same day said in his own mind that he would die if he did not obtain the favours of his little maid, and he followed her into the cellar, hoping the darkness would give him courage.
She tried to go away several times, but he detained her in order to count the bottles, to choose laths, or to look into the bottoms of casks--and this occupied a considerable time.
She stood facing him under the light that penetrated through an air-hole, with her eyes cast down, and the corner of her mouth slightly raised.
"Do you love me?" said Pecuchet abruptly.
"Yes, I do love you."
"Well, then prove it to me."
And throwing his left arm around her, he embraced her with ardour.
"You"re going to do me some harm."
"No, my little angel. Don"t be afraid."
"If Monsieur Bouvard----"
"I"ll tell him nothing. Make your mind easy."
There was a heap of f.a.ggots behind them. She sank upon them, and hid her face under one arm;--and another man would have understood that she was no novice.
Bouvard arrived soon for dinner.
The meal pa.s.sed in silence, each of them being afraid of betraying himself, while Melie attended them with her usual impa.s.siveness.
Pecuchet turned away his eyes to avoid hers; and Bouvard, his gaze resting on the walls, pondered meanwhile on his projected improvements.
Eight days after he came back in a towering rage.
"The d.a.m.ned traitress!"
"Who, pray?"
"Madame Bordin."
And he related how he had been so infatuated as to offer to make her his wife, but all had come to an end a quarter of an hour since at Marescot"s office. She wished to have for her marriage portion the Ecalles meadow, which he could not dispose of, having partly retained it, like the farm, with the money of another person.
"Exactly," said Pecuchet.
"I had had the folly to promise her any favour she asked--and this was what she was after! I attribute her obstinacy to this; for if she loved me she would have given way to me."
The widow, on the contrary, had attacked him in insulting language, and referred disparagingly to his physique, his big paunch.
"My paunch! Just imagine for a moment!"
Meanwhile Pecuchet had risen several times, and seemed to be in pain.
Bouvard asked him what was the matter, and thereupon Pecuchet, having first taken the precaution to shut the door, explained in a hesitating manner that he was affected with a certain disease.
"What! You?"
"I--myself."
"Oh, my poor fellow! And who is the cause of this?"
Pecuchet became redder than before, and said in a still lower tone:
"It can be only Melie."
Bouvard remained stupefied.
The first thing to do was to send the young woman away.
She protested with an air of candour.
Pecuchet"s case was, however, serious; but he was ashamed to consult a physician.