Part 56 (2/2)

”It is a nervous attack!” people exclaimed on all sides; ”she is very ill; we must take her to her room.”

Several of the gentlemen offered their a.s.sistance; Eugenie was taken from the room, and Caroline followed. I remained there, and walked to the window. That sight, that groan which I seemed still to hear, had rent my very soul. I felt that I desired no more revenge at that price.

I would leave that very night. I did not wish to kill her. If it depended only upon me, she would speedily be cured. People went and came in the salon. Some discussed that second swoon; others went to inquire about the invalid's condition. The old gentleman alone had returned to his corner, with an ill-humored scowl, and had put his paper in his pocket.

Caroline returned at last and everybody crowded about her. ”The lady is a little better,” she said, ”but really I am afraid that all the waters of Mont-d'Or will not restore her health.”

”I say, I can guess what caused that second fainting fit,” said the young man who had mentioned Eugenie before. ”Poor Madame Blemont! That is the lady's name----”

”Yes, I remember that the landlady called her so. Well! you were saying that the lady----”

”She was very unfortunate in her marriage; her husband left her, deserted her; she probably thought of all that, when she heard something about a husband bringing a suit against his wife.”

”What, monsieur!” said Caroline; ”that lady has been deserted by her husband?”

”Yes, mademoiselle; I have seen her several times at parties in Paris. I recognized her at once, although she is greatly changed.”

”And her husband?”

”I did not know him; it seems that he was a monster! a gambler, dissipated and jealous--all the vices, in short; he left his poor little wife with two children on her hands, a boy and a girl.”

”Oh! mon Dieu! There are some shameless men! That young woman has such a sweet and amiable manner! Certainly she is well adapted to make any man happy who is able to appreciate her! and perhaps she still loves him; for we are so soft-hearted, we cannot hate you, even when you most deserve it! Uncle, I certainly shall never marry.”

Having said this, Caroline looked at me as if to read in my eyes what I thought about it. But I looked away and did not say a word.

Everybody prepared to retire. We bowed to one another and said good-night. Suddenly I felt a hand on my arm; it was Caroline, who said to me with an offended air:

”So it seems that I must wish you good-night this evening, monsieur! You can certainly flatter yourself that you have made yourself very unpleasant!”

That reproach brought me to my senses; I reflected that I proposed to go away before dawn, and that perhaps this was the last time that I should see Mademoiselle Derbin; so I stepped forward to take her hand; but she drew it back, saying in an offhand tone:

”I do not forgive so quickly; to-morrow we will see whether you deserve that I should make peace with you.”

She left me, and I returned to my room. I felt that I must go away, that I must leave that house, that town. I felt that I could not endure to be in Eugenie's presence; moreover, she was ill and I must have compa.s.sion for her. But why had she come to disturb the happiness which I was enjoying in that spot? I had almost forgotten the past, Mademoiselle Derbin was so attractive! But after all, I should have had to leave her a little sooner or a little later. Suppose that she should find out that I was that Blemont, that man who was called a monster in society!--How they abused me! But that did not offend me in the least; on the contrary, I was overjoyed that people were deceived; I would rather be looked upon as a scoundrel than to air my grievances before the courts, like Belan. Poor Belan! I suspected that he would come to that.--But Caroline believed that I was a bachelor; an additional reason for going away. What could I hope for from that acquaintance? To have a friend?

Oh, no! at Caroline's age, a husband is what is wanted; love is the essential sentiment; friends.h.i.+p is not enough for a heart of twenty-four years. She would eventually fall in with the man whom she was looking for, and she would forget me as quickly as she had made my acquaintance. And I--oh! as soon as I had my daughter in my arms, I was quite certain that I should forget the whole world.

”I will call Pettermann,” I thought, ”and send him to the post-house to order horses, and tell him to pack our trunks.”

I called my faithful companion several times, but I received no reply.

He was not in the habit of going to bed before I did. I went up to his room, but he was not there. I asked the people in the hotel if they had seen him; a maid-servant remembered that about noon he had gone into a small cabinet adjoining a building at the end of the garden, and that he had had brought to him there, with an abundant luncheon, several bottles of Burgundy. She a.s.sured me that he had not come out since morning. I remembered then that it was the first of the month, the day which Pettermann ordinarily selected to divert himself; so I guessed what he was doing in the cabinet. I requested the maid to show me the way. We went with a light toward the building which the ex-tailor had selected for his celebration.

We saw no light through the window, so we went in. Pettermann, who evidently was as conscientious about getting completely drunk once a month, as in keeping sober the rest of the time, was stretched out, dead drunk, by the table, at the foot of a bench upon which he was probably sitting when he was able to sit erect.

”Mon Dieu! is he dead?” cried the servant; ”he doesn't move!”

”No, don't be alarmed, he is only drunk; and as that happens only once a month now, he doesn't get drunk by halves. What an unfortunate chance, when I wanted to go away to-night.”

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