They chatted first about the view in front of them, then about scenery in general; and they were beginning to plunge into discussions when Arnoux, at half-past nine o"clock, ordered the horse to be put to the carriage.
"Would you like me to go back with you?" said Madame Arnoux.
"Why, certainly!" and, making her a graceful bow: "You know well, madame, that it is impossible to live without you!"
Everyone congratulated her on having so good a husband.
"Ah! it is because I am not the only one," she replied quietly, pointing towards her little daughter.
Then, the conversation having turned once more on painting, there was some talk about a Ruysdael, for which Arnoux expected a big sum, and Pellerin asked him if it were true that the celebrated Saul Mathias from London had come over during the past month to make him an offer of twenty-three thousand francs for it.
""Tis a positive fact!" and turning towards Frederick: "That was the very same gentleman I brought with me a few days ago to the Alhambra, much against my will, I a.s.sure you, for these English are by no means amusing companions."
Frederick, who suspected that Mademoiselle Vatnaz"s letter contained some reference to an intrigue, was amazed at the facility with which my lord Arnoux found a way of pa.s.sing it off as a perfectly honourable transaction; but his new lie, which was quite needless, made the young man open his eyes in speechless astonishment.
The picture-dealer added, with an air of simplicity:
"What"s the name, by-the-by, of that young fellow, your friend?"
"Deslauriers," said Frederick quickly.
And, in order to repair the injustice which he felt he had done to his comrade, he praised him as one who possessed remarkable ability.
"Ah! indeed? But he doesn"t look such a fine fellow as the other--the clerk in the wagon-office."
Frederick bestowed a mental imprecation on Dussardier. She would now be taking it for granted that he a.s.sociated with the common herd.
Then they began to talk about the ornamentation of the capital--the new districts of the city--and the worthy Oudry happened to refer to M.
Dambreuse as one of the big speculators.
Frederick, taking advantage of the opportunity to make a good figure, said he was acquainted with that gentleman. But Pellerin launched into a harangue against shopkeepers--he saw no difference between them, whether they were sellers of candles or of money. Then Rosenwald and Burieu talked about old china; Arnoux chatted with Madame Oudry about gardening; Sombary, a comical character of the old school, amused himself by chaffing her husband, referring to him sometimes as "Odry,"
as if he were the actor of that name, and remarking that he must be descended from Oudry, the dog-painter, seeing that the b.u.mp of the animals was visible on his forehead. He even wanted to feel M. Oudry"s skull; but the latter excused himself on account of his wig; and the dessert ended with loud bursts of laughter.
When they had taken their coffee, while they smoked, under the linden-trees, and strolled about the garden for some time, they went out for a walk along the river.
The party stopped in front of a fishmonger"s shop, where a man was washing eels. Mademoiselle Marthe wanted to look at them. He emptied the box in which he had them out on the gra.s.s; and the little girl threw herself on her knees in order to catch them, laughed with delight, and then began to scream with terror. They all got spoiled, and Arnoux paid for them.
He next took it into his head to go out for a sail in the cutter.
One side of the horizon was beginning to a.s.sume a pale aspect, while on the other side a wide strip of orange colour showed itself in the sky, deepening into purple at the summits of the hills, which were steeped in shadow. Madame Arnoux seated herself on a big stone with this glittering splendour at her back. The other ladies sauntered about here and there.
Hussonnet, at the lower end of the river"s bank, went making ducks and drakes over the water.
Arnoux presently returned, followed by a weather-beaten long boat, into which, in spite of the most prudent remonstrances, he packed his guests. The boat got upset, and they had to go ash.o.r.e again.
By this time wax-tapers were burning in the drawing-room, all hung with chintz, and with branched candlesticks of crystal fixed close to the walls. Mere Oudry was sleeping comfortably in an armchair, and the others were listening to M. Lefaucheux expatiating on the glories of the Bar. Madame Arnoux was sitting by herself near the window. Frederick came over to her.
They chatted about the remarks which were being made in their vicinity.
She admired oratory; he preferred the renown gained by authors. But, she ventured to suggest, it must give a man greater pleasure to move crowds directly by addressing them in person, face to face, than it does to infuse into their souls by his pen all the sentiments that animate his own. Such triumphs as these did not tempt Frederick much, as he had no ambition.
Then he broached the subject of sentimental adventures. She spoke pityingly of the havoc wrought by pa.s.sion, but expressed indignation at hypocritical vileness, and this rect.i.tude of spirit harmonised so well with the regular beauty of her face that it seemed indeed as if her physical attractions were the outcome of her moral nature.
She smiled, every now and then, letting her eyes rest on him for a minute. Then he felt her glances penetrating his soul like those great rays of sunlight which descend into the depths of the water. He loved her without mental reservation, without any hope of his love being returned, unconditionally; and in those silent transports, which were like outbursts of grat.i.tude, he would fain have covered her forehead with a rain of kisses. However, an inspiration from within carried him beyond himself--he felt moved by a longing for self-sacrifice, an imperative impulse towards immediate self-devotion, and all the stronger from the fact that he could not gratify it.
He did not leave along with the rest. Neither did Hussonnet. They were to go back in the carriage; and the vehicle was waiting just in front of the steps when Arnoux rushed down and hurried into the garden to gather some flowers there. Then the bouquet having been tied round with a thread, as the stems fell down unevenly, he searched in his pocket, which was full of papers, took out a piece at random, wrapped them up, completed his handiwork with the aid of a strong pin, and then offered it to his wife with a certain amount of tenderness.
"Look here, my darling! Excuse me for having forgotten you!"
But she uttered a little scream: the pin, having been awkwardly fixed, had cut her, and she hastened up to her room. They waited nearly a quarter of an hour for her. At last, she reappeared, carried off Marthe, and threw herself into the carriage.
"And your bouquet?" said Arnoux.
"No! no--it is not worth while!" Frederick was running off to fetch it for her; she called out to him:
"I don"t want it!"
But he speedily brought it to her, saying that he had just put it into an envelope again, as he had found the flowers lying on the floor. She thrust them behind the leathern ap.r.o.n of the carriage close to the seat, and off they started.
Frederick, seated by her side, noticed that she was trembling frightfully. Then, when they had pa.s.sed the bridge, as Arnoux was turning to the left:
"Why, no! you are making a mistake!--that way, to the right!"
She seemed irritated; everything annoyed her. At length, Marthe having closed her eyes, Madame Arnoux drew forth the bouquet, and flung it out through the carriage-door, then caught Frederick"s arm, making a sign to him with the other hand to say nothing about it.
After this, she pressed her handkerchief against her lips, and sat quite motionless.
The two others, on the d.i.c.key, kept talking about printing and about subscribers. Arnoux, who was driving recklessly, lost his way in the middle of the Bois de Boulogne. Then they plunged into narrow paths. The horse proceeded along at a walking pace; the branches of the trees grazed the hood. Frederick could see nothing of Madame Arnoux save her two eyes in the shade. Marthe lay stretched across her lap while he supported the child"s head.
"She is tiring you!" said her mother.
He replied:
"No! Oh, no!"
Whirlwinds of dust rose up slowly. They pa.s.sed through Auteuil. All the houses were closed up; a gas-lamp here and there lighted up the angle of a wall; then once more they were surrounded by darkness. At one time he noticed that she was shedding tears.
Was this remorse or pa.s.sion? What in the world was it? This grief, of whose exact nature he was ignorant, interested him like a personal matter. There was now a new bond between them, as if, in a sense, they were accomplices; and he said to her in the most caressing voice he could a.s.sume:
"You are ill?"
"Yes, a little," she returned.
The carriage rolled on, and the honeysuckles and the syringas trailed over the garden fences, sending forth puffs of enervating odour into the night air. Her gown fell around her feet in numerous folds. It seemed to him as if he were in communication with her entire person through the medium of this child"s body which lay stretched between them. He stooped over the little girl, and spreading out her pretty brown tresses, kissed her softly on the forehead.
"You are good!" said Madame Arnoux.
"Why?"
"Because you are fond of children."