she added, somewhat rea.s.sured when she found that it was not a frog which she had been warming in her bosom, "do you carry goldfish in your handkerchief?"
Chamoureau, as the explanation of the incident began to dawn upon him, turned as red as his fish, and did not know what to say. But Thelenie at once spoke up and told the story of the accident which had happened to her husband, and which explained the presence of an inhabitant of the pond in his coat pocket, unsuspected by him. Thereupon they ended by laughing at the episode, and to obtain full forgiveness for the fish, Thelenie invited the Droguet family to dinner on the Thursday following.
The invitation was accepted with profuse thanks and compliments, and Monsieur and Madame de Belleville took their leave; the Droguets escorted them to their caleche, and they parted well pleased with one another.
"Please examine your pockets, monsieur," said Thelenie, "and make sure that there are no more goldfish in them, for I have no desire that you should throw any more of them in the faces of the people we are going to call upon."
"I have no more in my pockets, madame."
"I am not surprised that you have such a horrible smell of fish about you; why didn"t you change your coat?"
"Because I haven"t any other black one that fits me, madame."
"Then you must have another one made, monsieur; I believe that you are rich enough to have more than one coat."
On leaving Madame Droguet"s, Thelenie drove to the Remplumes, then to the Jarnouillards, then to the mayor"s, and to all the leading people of the place, who were extremely flattered by the courtesies and the invitations they received from Monsieur and Madame de Belleville.
Thelenie overlooked neither Monsieur Luminot nor the doctor; she left at their houses invitations to dine with her on the Thursday following.
Then they returned to Goldfish Villa, and Chamoureau said to himself:
"I propose to stay quietly in my room, for fear some other unpleasant accident may happen to me."
Thelenie, for her part, was well content with her day. She had begun a campaign of calumny against the persons whom Edmond visited, and she was persuaded that her spiteful words would soon be repeated and exaggerated, for calumny is the most agreeable pastime of fools. They would be of so little account in the world, if they did not speak ill of their neighbors.
X
AMI BRINGS CERTAIN PERSONS TOGETHER
When the lovelorn Edmond returned from Paris, his first thought always was to go to Madame Dalmont"s to pay his respects to the two friends and to indulge himself in the pleasure of reading Agathe"s thoughts in her eyes.
They did not fail to tell him the story of the sale, although Honorine attempted to pa.s.s over in silence the circ.u.mstances that redounded to her credit; but Agathe told everything.
"Why shouldn"t you tell of your own good deeds?" she said; "as they say so much ill of us in the neighborhood, that will be some little compensation."
"Say ill of you! who has the presumption to do anything of the sort, when you deserve nothing but praise?" exclaimed Edmond with great heat.
"I have known you only a short time, mesdames, but, thank heaven! I soon learned to appreciate you! You are not of those persons whose hearts are a mystery; yours are so kind, so humane!--What Madame Dalmont did for those people doesn"t surprise me in the least; if she were wealthy, I am sure that there would be no unfortunates in her neighborhood! I confess, too, that I feel strongly drawn toward that strange man, the owner of the Tower, concerning whom the people hereabout spread such absurd reports. When calumny is rife concerning a person whom I do not know, it always serves to commend that person to me. What he did for the farmer"s family was grand, n.o.ble, touching! it was like a gust of wind which swept away in an instant all the petty slanders that were current concerning him!--But I beg you to answer my question: who has spoken ill of you?"
The two friends were silent for some time; Agathe blushed and looked at the floor. At last Honorine decided to speak.
"Agathe thinks that we ought to tell you everything, bad as well as good; so we will speak frankly, once and for all; I believe, in truth, that that is the best course to follow.
"First of all, Monsieur Edmond, I must begin by rea.s.suring you, by begging you to believe that the remarks which are made about us do not affect us in the least. You have heard of a certain Madame Droguet----"
"That inquisitive woman, who hid a whole day in the bushes, watching for Monsieur Paul to pa.s.s," added Agathe.
"And who received Freluchon so ill because he called at her house to ask for me?"
"That is the woman; the specimens of her social circle who came to see us gave us no desire to know it in its entirety, so we have not called on Madame Droguet, or her friends Mesdames Jarnouillard and Remplume.
That was our first offence, but it was a very grave one! to fail to show to those ladies the consideration that was their due, and thereby to announce that we did not care for their society--that was an insult which they could not forgive. They began thereupon to discover that we were suspicious characters. Then, as you know, chance willed that we should, on two occasions, accept the escort of the proprietor of the Tower; he walked home with us one evening when a cow had frightened me almost to death, and another time when we were surprised by a violent storm in the country. In a small place like this, it rarely happens that one returns home without being seen by someone. We were noticed in the company of that gentleman, who has shown no desire for their company,--indeed, I believe that I was leaning on his arm, which necessarily intensified the wrath of those ladies,--and he who, during the nine years, more or less, that he has lived in this part of the country, has steadfastly refused all relations with the local notabilities, actually offers his arm to us--the newest of newcomers!
That incident was the source of a thousand and one absurd remarks. I come now to another fact which has furnished a subject of calumny to all these people: you hired a house at Ch.e.l.les shortly after we came here to live; you hired a whole house for your single self."
"What business is that of theirs? I paid six months" rent in advance."
"What business is it of theirs? why, monsieur, everything is the business of those who have nothing to do but to try to find out what is going on among their neighbors. Well, you come to see us--often; you call upon no one else in the place; therefore people are bound to think that you--that you take pleasure in our society."
"Ah! madame, do you tell me this to make me come less often? Would you forbid my coming to see you?"
"I do not say that; but----"
Honorine seemed embarra.s.sed; Agathe was trembling from head to foot; and Edmond hesitated no longer.
"Madame!" he said, "I like to believe that, seeing me come to your house so persistently, you have never supposed that I was led to come by a blameworthy desire, a frivolous sentiment. But I realize, nevertheless, that it is better that I should explain myself, that I should speak to you frankly, that I should follow your example in everything. I must not leave any basis for hateful suspicions. Madame, if I tell you that I love, that I adore Mademoiselle Agathe, I shall tell you nothing that you do not know; for you must have divined that love, which it would have been very difficult for me to conceal! But, when I avow my pa.s.sion for her, is not that equivalent to saying that my sole desire is to call her my wife, and that that will be my greatest joy? If I have not told you earlier, it was because I wanted to know--I wanted to be sure if Mademoiselle----"
"He wanted to be sure that I loved him, you see, my dear!" cried Agathe, unable longer to restrain her joy. "And now he is very sure of it; that is what he was waiting for before speaking."
"Why, Agathe! what are you saying?" exclaimed Honorine; while the girl, confused by what had escaped her lips, relapsed into speechless agitation.
But Edmond impetuously threw himself at Honorine"s feet, saying:
"In pity"s name, madame, do not reprove her, and do not force her to unsay those words which have made me so happy!"
Honorine gazed at the lovers for a few moments, then smiled and took a hand of each.
"Be calm, my children!" said she; "I do not look very stern, I imagine.
Come, sit here beside me, and let us talk.--You love Agathe--yes, I do not doubt it; I had guessed as much; and it is because I have faith in your honor that I have allowed your visits. She loves you, too; why should I blame her for it, if this exchange of sentiments is to result in your happiness? You wish to be her husband, but first of all it is essential that you should know the whole story of her to whom you wish to give your name.
"Agathe bears only her mother"s name--Montoni. Julia, her unfortunate mother, was loved by a young man of n.o.ble birth, Comte Adhemar de Hautmont. He did not abandon the woman who had given herself to him; he loved her dearly and intended to make her his wife; but, in order to avoid a rupture with his family, he was waiting until circ.u.mstances should favor his projected marriage. Alas! the young man suddenly disappeared; Julia never saw him again, never heard from him in any way; and when he left her, it was with a promise to see her soon, and he covered his daughter, then six years old, with kisses."
"Why, that is most extraordinary! Did he not return to his family?"
"No; Julia caused inquiries to be made; she was unable to learn anything concerning her child"s father, and six years later the poor mother placed her daughter in my care, saying:
""I am dying; take care of my Agathe, who has no one but you to love her."
"That, monsieur, is all that there is to tell concerning her whom you desire to call your wife; and that it was absolutely necessary to tell you."
"Oh! madame, you do not think, I trust, that that can in any degree lessen my love for her or my desire to make her the companion of my life."
"You see, my dear, it doesn"t change his sentiments at all; I was sure that it would not!"
"Dear Agathe, your mother"s misfortunes can but make you the more interesting in my eyes. But your father"s sudden disappearance seems to me most extraordinary; it must be connected with some mysterious occurrence--with some crime, perhaps; who knows?"
"Ah! we have very often thought that."
"And there has never been any clue, any circ.u.mstance to put you on the track of what happened to him?"