She was shocked, and murmured: "Oh, George!"
He wore an insolent and chaffing air as he said: "Well, what? Did you not admit to me the other evening that Forestier was a cuckold?" And he added: "Poor devil!" in a tone of pity.
Madeleine turned her back on him, disdaining to answer; and then, after a moment"s silence, resumed: "We shall have visitors on Tuesday. Madame Laroche-Mathieu is coming to dinner with the Viscountess de Percemur.
Will you invite Rival and Norbert de Varenne? I will call to-morrow and ask Madame Walter and Madame de Marelle. Perhaps we shall have Madame Rissolin, too."
For some time past she had been strengthening her connections, making use of her husband"s political influence to attract to her house, w.i.l.l.y-nilly, the wives of the senators and deputies who had need of the support of the _Vie Francaise_.
George replied: "Very well. I will see about Rival and Norbert."
He was satisfied, and rubbed his hands, for he had found a good trick to annoy his wife and gratify the obscure rancor, the undefined and gnawing jealousy born in him since their drive in the Bois. He would never speak of Forestier again without calling him cuckold. He felt very well that this would end by enraging Madeleine. And half a score of times, in the course of the evening, he found means to mention with ironical good humor the name of "that cuckold of a Forestier." He was no longer angry with the dead! he was avenging him.
His wife pretended not to notice it, and remained smilingly indifferent.
The next day, as she was to go and invite Madame Walter, he resolved to forestall her, in order to catch the latter alone, and see if she really
cared for him. It amused and flattered him. And then--why not--if it were possible?
He arrived at the Boulevard Malesherbes about two, and was shown into the drawing-room, where he waited till Madame Walter made her appearance, her hand outstretched with pleased eagerness, saying: "What good wind brings you hither?"
"No good wind, but the wish to see you. Some power has brought me here, I do not know why, for I have nothing to say to you. I came, here I am; will you forgive me this early visit and the frankness of this explanation?"
He uttered this in a gallant and jesting tone, with a smile on his lips.
She was astonished, and colored somewhat, stammering: "But really--I do not understand--you surprise me."
He observed: "It is a declaration made to a lively tune, in order not to alarm you."
They had sat down in front of one another. She took the matter pleasantly, saying: "A serious declaration?"
"Yes. For a long time I have been wanting to utter it--for a very long time. But I dared not. They say you are so strict, so rigid."
She had recovered her a.s.surance, and observed: "Why to-day, then?"
"I do not know." Then lowering his voice he added: "Or rather, because I have been thinking of nothing but you since yesterday."
She stammered, growing suddenly pale: "Come, enough of nonsense; let us speak of something else."
But he had fallen at her feet so suddenly that she was frightened. She tried to rise, but he kept her seated by the strength of his arms pa.s.sed round her waist, and repeated in a voice of pa.s.sion: "Yes, it is true that I have loved you madly for a long time past. Do not answer me. What would you have? I am mad. I love you. Oh! if you knew how I love you!"
She was suffocating, gasping, and strove to speak, without being able to utter a word. She pushed him away with her two hands, having seized him by the hair to hinder the approach of the mouth that she felt coming towards her own. She kept turning her head from right to left and from left to right with a rapid motion, closing her eyes, in order no longer to see him. He touched her through her dress, handled her, pressed her, and she almost fainted under his strong and rude caress. He rose suddenly and sought to clasp her to him, but, free for a moment, she had managed to escape by throwing herself back, and she now fled from behind one chair to another. He felt that pursuit was ridiculous, and he fell into a chair, his face hidden by his hands, feigning convulsive sobs.
Then he got up, exclaimed "Farewell, farewell," and rushed away.
He quietly took his stick in the hall and gained the street, saying to himself: "By Jove, I believe it is all right there." And he went into a telegraph office to send a wire to Clotilde, making an appointment for the next day.
On returning home at his usual time, he said to his wife: "Well, have you secured all the people for your dinner?"
She answered: "Yes, there is only Madame Walter, who is not quite sure whether she will be free to come. She hesitated and talked about I don"t know what--an engagement, her conscience. In short, she seemed very strange. No matter, I hope she will come all the same."
He shrugged his shoulders, saying: "Oh, yes, she"ll come."
He was not certain, however, and remained anxious until the day of the dinner. That very morning Madeleine received a note from her: "I have managed to get free from my engagements with great difficulty, and shall be with you this evening. But my husband cannot accompany me."
Du Roy thought: "I did very well indeed not to go back. She has calmed down. Attention."
He, however, awaited her appearance with some slight uneasiness. She came, very calm, rather cool, and slightly haughty. He became humble, discreet, and submissive. Madame Laroche-Mathieu and Madame Rissolin accompanied their husbands. The Viscountess de Percemur talked society.
Madame de Marelle looked charming in a strangely fanciful toilet, a species of Spanish costume in black and yellow, which set off her neat figure, her bosom, her rounded arms, and her bird-like head.
Du Roy had Madame Walter on his right hand, and during dinner only spoke to her on serious topics, and with an exaggerated respect. From time to time he glanced at Clotilde. "She is really prettier and fresher looking than ever," he thought. Then his eyes returned to his wife, whom he found not bad-looking either, although he retained towards her a hidden, tenacious, and evil anger.
But Madame Walter excited him by the difficulty of victory and by that novelty always desired by man. She wanted to return home early. "I will escort you," said he.
She refused, but he persisted, saying: "Why will not you permit me? You will wound me keenly. Do not let me think that you have not forgiven me.
You see how quiet I am."
She answered: "But you cannot abandon your guests like that."
He smiled. "But I shall only be away twenty minutes. They will not even notice it. If you refuse you will cut me to the heart."
She murmured: "Well, then I agree."
But as soon as they were in the carriage he seized her hand, and, kissing it pa.s.sionately, exclaimed: "I love you, I love you. Let me tell you that much. I will not touch you. I only want to repeat to you that I love you."
She stammered: "Oh! after what you promised me! This is wrong, very wrong."
He appeared to make a great effort, and then resumed in a restrained tone: "There, you see how I master myself. And yet--But let me only tell you that I love you, and repeat it to you every day; yes, let me come to your house and kneel down for five minutes at your feet to utter those three words while gazing on your beloved face."
She had yielded her hand to him, and replied pantingly: "No, I cannot, I will not. Think of what would be said, of the servants, of my daughters.
No, no, it is impossible."
He went on: "I can no longer live without seeing you. Whether at your house or elsewhere, I must see you, if only for a moment, every day, to touch your hand, to breathe the air stirred by your dress, to gaze on the outline of your form, and on your great calm eyes that madden me."
She listened, quivering, to this commonplace love-song, and stammered: "No, it is out of the question."
He whispered in her ear, understanding that he must capture her by degrees, this simple woman, that he must get her to make appointments with him, where she would at first, where he wished afterwards. "Listen, I must see you; I shall wait for you at your door like a beggar; but I will see you, I will see you to-morrow."
She repeated: "No, do not come. I shall not receive you. Think of my daughters."
"Then tell me where I shall meet you--in the street, no matter where, at whatever hour you like, provided I see you. I will bow to you; I will say "I love you," and I will go away."
She hesitated, bewildered. And as the brougham entered the gateway of her residence she murmured hurriedly: "Well, then, I shall be at the Church of the Trinity to-morrow at half-past three." Then, having alighted, she said to her coachman: "Drive Monsieur Du Roy back to his house."
As he re-entered his home, his wife said: "Where did you get to?"
He replied, in a low tone: "I went to the telegraph office to send off a message."
Madame de Marelle approached them. "You will see me home, Pretty-boy?"
said she. "You know I only came such a distance to dinner on that condition." And turning to Madeleine, she added: "You are not jealous?"