Part 56 (1/2)

While these ideas flitted through my mind, Caroline pushed me toward the chair in which Eugenie was sitting, saying:

”Well! for heaven's sake, monsieur, do you propose to stand there without budging? Oh! how awkward men are under some circ.u.mstances!”

We carried the chair to the window, and someone brought salts.

”Hold the lady's head,” said Caroline to me. ”Come this way. Upon my word, I don't know what you can be thinking about to-night, but you act as if you did not hear me.--Poor woman! how pale she is! But she is pretty, for all that, isn't she? Tell me, don't you think her pretty?”

”Yes, mademoiselle.”

”I am very lucky to be able to get that out of you. Ah! she is coming to herself.”

Eugenie opened her eyes. She seemed to be trying to collect her thoughts. At last she looked slowly about her, and I was the first person whom she saw. She instantly lowered her eyes and put her hand to her forehead.

”You frightened me terribly, madame,” said Caroline. ”How do you feel now?”

”Thank you, mademoiselle, it was an attack of vertigo; I am better. But I would like to go back to my room.”

As she spoke, she tried to rise, but fell back in her chair, faltering:

”I feel quite helpless!”

”Pray stay with us; this will pa.s.s away; it comes from the nerves. You will be comfortable by the window. Solitude causes ennui, and ennui increases one's suffering. Isn't that so, Monsieur Dalbreuse?--Well! he isn't listening to me; I can't imagine what is the matter with him to-night.”

While Caroline was speaking, I had walked away from Eugenie's chair. She remained seated there, with her face turned toward the window; she did not look into the salon again.

”I never had an ill turn but once in my life,” said Monsieur Roquencourt, ”and that was caused by the heat. I had agreed to play the part of Arlequin in _Colombine Mannequin_; I was not very anxious to do it, for I dreaded the mask; but the company begged so hard that I had to yield. It was Madame la Marquise de Crezieux who played Colombine. A fascinating woman, on my word! I had a weakness for her. When I saw her as Colombine, she looked so pretty, that I made it a point of honor to do my best, and I played Arlequin magnificently. I performed a thousand capers and tricks; I was a regular cat! At the end of the play they threw flowers to me; the audience was in transports, in delirium! But I, bless my soul! I could stand it no longer! I fell when I reached the wings; and if they hadn't torn my mask off at once, it would have been all over with me; I should have suffocated!”

Several persons went to Eugenie to ask her how she felt. I did not hear her replies, but she did not move.

She was afraid of meeting my eyes again, no doubt, if she turned her head. She had not brought her daughter with her. What a pity! And yet, if she had brought her, should I have been able to conceal my affection?

Ah! I felt that I had remained there too long! I should have returned to Paris to see my daughter long before.

For several moments the conversation had lagged; some persons were talking together in undertones, but there was no animation. The old gentleman who had remained in a corner, with his newspaper in his hand, deemed the moment favorable, and drew his chair toward the centre of the room, saying:

”Gentlemen and ladies, I believe that we were talking just now of the trial which is reported in the Gazette des Tribunaux, which I have in my hand; in fact, I was about to read what the paper says, when someone went to bring madame here. I imagine that you will not be sorry to hear the report now, and I will begin. Hum! hum!”

”It is very hard to read well,” said Monsieur Roquencourt; ”we have many authors who don't know how to read their works. Larive was the one who could read well; yes, he read perfectly! For my part, when I had a letter to read on the stage, I would not have the prompter give me a single word! But once a very amusing thing happened to me. It was in _L'Etourdi_, I believe.”

”Monsieur,” said the old gentleman angrily, coming forward with his newspaper, ”do you or do you not wish me to read you the Gazette?”

”Oh! beg pardon! Read on, I pray you. I will tell you my story afterward; it will make you laugh.”

I was on thorns. Was I to be compelled to listen to the report of that trial? And yet, was it not the beginning of my revenge? Eugenie would suffer terribly on listening to all those details. But it seemed to me that I should suffer as much as she. The pitiless reader had unfolded the journal and put on his spectacles; we could not escape him.

”'A case, of common enough occurrence in its general character, but very interesting in its details, and in the course of the trial----'”

”You have read us that, monsieur.”

”That is so; let us come to the trial. 'Monsieur Belan seeks to obtain a divorce from his wife Armide de Beausire, for infidelity. The facts which led Monsieur----'”

At the first words that he read, I watched Eugenie; she tried to rise and leave the room; but she had taken only a few steps when a low groan escaped from her lips, her limbs stiffened, and she fell at Mademoiselle Derbin's feet.