"Well, what did she ask you to-day?"
"First of all, how monsieur was; then as I had a package under my arm, she said: "Where are you going with that?"--"To Saint-Mande, mademoiselle."--"Does Monsieur Dalbreuse live at Saint-Mande?"--"Yes, mademoiselle."--"And is that bundle for him?"--"Yes, mademoiselle."--At that she began to laugh, with a queer expression, and I noticed that the head of a jack-in-the-box was sticking out of the bundle. The uncle asked me: "Is Monsieur Dalbreuse running a marionette theatre?"--"No, monsieur; there are some books in the bundle for my master, but the toys are for the children."--"What! has he children with him?" cried the young woman.--"Prout!" I said to myself at that; "there seems to be no end to these questions."--So I took off my hat and saluted them, and told them that I was in a hurry."
"Is that all, Pettermann?"
"Yes, monsieur."
So Caroline had not forgotten me, although we had not parted on very good terms. But that was no reason why we should cease to think of each other; so many people part on most excellent terms and forget each other at once! That reminder of Mademoiselle Derbin caused me a pleasant emotion; she had such a strange temperament, a way of thinking that was not like other people"s; and in spite of that, she had all the charm of affability of her s.e.x.
If Pettermann had still been there, I would have asked him whether Mademoiselle Derbin had changed, whether she seemed as bright and cheerful as formerly. I would have asked him--I don"t know what else.
But he had gone. He had done well too. What occasion was there for me to think of Caroline? I had determined thenceforth not to love anybody except my children. It was a pity, however, for love is such a pleasant occupation!
It was three days after Pettermann had told me of that meeting. I was walking in Vincennes forest with my children. Eugene had become less timid with me; he smiled at me and kissed me, although he was not yet so unreserved as his sister, who made me do whatever she wished. I held a hand of each of them. I was listening to the chatter of Henriette and her brother"s lisping replies, when my daughter mentioned her mother, and my brow darkened.
"Papa, why doesn"t mamma come back?"
"She is ever so far away, my child. It may be that you won"t see her for a very long time."
"But I don"t like that. Why don"t we go to fetch her?"
"That is impossible."
"Why?"
"I don"t know where she is now."
"Oh dear! suppose she was lost!"
Henriette"s eyes were full of tears; she looked at me as she asked that question. Poor child! if she had known how she hurt me! I did not know how to comfort her. If Eugenie had returned, I felt sure that she would have asked to see her child; and I should never have denied her that satisfaction. But I heard nothing of her. Ernest and his wife never mentioned her to me, and although their silence was beginning to vex me, I did not choose to be the first to speak of Eugenie; besides, it was quite possible that they had heard no more from her than I had.
Henriette was still looking at me; impatient at my failure to answer, she exclaimed at last:
"Why, papa, what are you thinking about?"
"About you, my child."
"I asked you if my poor mamma was lost, and you didn"t say anything. And Monsieur Eugene never asks about his mamma! That is naughty! He"s a hardhearted little wretch!"
Eugene looked at his sister with a shamefaced air, then began to call out to me as if he were reciting complimentary verses:
"Papa, tell me about mamma, please."
I kissed Eugene, and he was content with that reply; but my daughter caused me more and more embarra.s.sment every day. However, she was capable of listening to reason, for her intelligence was in advance of her age. I stopped and sat down at the foot of a tree; then I drew my children to my side, and I said to Henriette:
"My dear love, you are no longer a child; I can talk reasonably to you."
"Oh, yes, papa, I am more than seven years old, and I know how to read!"
"Listen to me: your mamma has gone away, to a very distant country; I do not know myself when she will come back; you must see that it makes me feel grieved not to see her, and whenever you mention her to me you increase my grief. Do you understand, my dear love?"
"Yes, papa. So I must never speak to you about mamma, eh?"
"At all events, do not ask me questions that I can"t answer."
"But I can still think about mamma, can"t I?"
"Yes, my dear Henriette; and be very sure that as soon as she returns to Paris, her first thought will be to come to embrace you."
My daughter said no more. That conversation seemed to have saddened both the poor children. They said nothing more, and I myself sat beside them, lost in thought.
A few moments later a gentleman and lady came toward us. I had not raised my eyes to look at them, but I had heard my own name. It was Monsieur Roquencourt and his niece.
They stopped in front of us.
"Yes, my niece was right, it is our dear friend Monsieur Dalbreuse!"
I rose and bowed to the uncle and niece. Caroline"s manner was cold but polite.
I did not recognize that animated and playful countenance which attached so many people to her chariot at Mont-d"Or; she had a.s.sumed a much more serious expression. Her glance was almost melancholy; but how well that new manner became her! How great a charm that change gave her in my eyes!
"My niece said a long way off: "There is Monsieur Dalbreuse;" but I admit that I didn"t recognize you; and yet my sight is very good, I have never used spectacles. But who are these lovely children?"
"They are mine."
"Yours? Oh yes! I remember now--my niece told me that you were married.
They are charming; the little girl has magnificent eyes, and quite a little manner of her own. We shall make many conquests with those eyes.--And you, my fine fellow. Oh! you will play the handsome Leander with great success some day; you would be amazing with a club-wig."
While Monsieur Roquencourt was looking at my children, his niece drew near to me and said in an undertone:
"So you have your children with you now?"
"Yes, mademoiselle."
Then she stooped over Henriette and said:
"Will you give me a kiss, my dear love?"
My daughter made a dignified curtsy, then allowed herself to be embraced. Mademoiselle next took Eugene in her arms and kissed him. I do not know why I took pleasure in watching her do it.
"So you live at Saint-Mande? We learned that from your servant, whom we happened to meet."
"Yes, monsieur, I am pa.s.sing the summer here; I am staying with a friend who was kind enough, with his wife, to take charge of my children while I was travelling."
"There is one thing that you don"t know, and that is that we have been neighbors of yours since yesterday."
"What?"
"Yes, I mean it. We have hired a little house, all furnished, at Saint-Mande and we have installed ourselves there for the rest of the summer. It was an idea that came into my niece"s head. After we met your servant, she said to me: "I am not feeling very well, uncle."--It is true that she has been out of sorts ever since we returned from Mont-d"Or."