Part 65 (1/2)

”It's a great mistake to laugh at us poor husbands; for, upon my word, anyone else in our place would do just as we do.”

I went home and to bed. I slept about three hours; then something, I know not what, awoke me; doubtless it was written that I should wake. I pressed the repeater of my watch: three o'clock. I thought that I would like to know if my wife was at home; ordinarily, I did not disturb myself about it, but she had a cold which made me anxious about her health; if she was not more careful of herself, it might become serious; and, although I did not love her, although she did not make me very happy, as I was more prudent than she, it was my duty to look after her health.

That idea prevented me from going to sleep again; it seemed to me that I should be more at ease if I were sure that she had come home. Why should I not go to her room to make sure? I had never done such a thing since we had slept apart; but my solicitude ought not to offend her; and besides, I could go there without waking her, and she would not even know that I had been to see her. I had a duplicate key to her bedroom, which I had had made when we slept together, so that I could go in without rousing her; for, in the early days of our marriage, she used to go to bed before I came home, and always locked herself in because she was afraid. I had forgotten to give her that key, which lay in my desk; and she had probably forgotten that I had it.

I rose and felt my way to the desk, for I kept no light in my room at night. I found the key, and stole softly from my room to go to my wife.

I walked noiselessly through the intervening rooms, I was careful not to make a sound; one would have thought that I was on my way to an a.s.signation, but it was something very different. When I reached my wife's door I saw a light through the keyhole.--”Good!” I said to myself; ”she's at home;” and I was about to creep away, when I fancied that I heard voices. With whom could she be talking? The servants were always in bed when we came home, as we had our own keys. I listened; I could not hear very distinctly; but it seemed to me that that voice--”Parbleu!” I thought; ”that would be a strange thing!” A thousand ideas crowded into my mind. I slipped the key in the lock very softly, turned it quickly, entered the room, and--saw Raymond in bed with my wife!

Surprise held me motionless for an instant. Raymond jumped out of bed and ran about the room like a madman; he could not find the door, although there were two. I came to myself and could not resist the temptation to give him a kick that sent him to the floor. But I soon regretted my imprudence. To make an uproar--a scandal--to let the whole household know that I was--I lacked only that!--I put Raymond on his feet, pushed him out of the room, threw his coat in his face, and even gave him a light, so that he might not break his neck on the stairs; it was impossible to be more polite than I was.

”Until to-morrow!” I said.

I imagined that he did not hear me; but, no matter; he had gone, and I returned to my wife.

She had remained in bed; she did not stir.

”As you may imagine,” I said to her, ”I do not propose to publish this abroad; however, madame, I am not in the humor to continue to live with you; I may be willing to conceal your misconduct, but I do not choose to witness any more of it. Henceforth we will live apart, as divorces are no longer granted, and as we must remain united all our lives by the laws when we have ceased to be united by any sentiment. It is probable that the blame will be laid on me; people will say that I have deserted you after making you unhappy, for so they often judge the acts of others; but it matters little to me; I leave you everything here; you have your property, and I have mine; henceforth let there be nothing in common between us.”

Pelagie did not say a single word in reply; indeed, I am inclined to think that she fell asleep during my speech. I took a candle, closed her door, and returned to my own room. I intended to go to bed again; but I felt that I should not be able to sleep. No matter if a man be not in love or jealous, he cannot see such things as that and remain cool.

Still, I was well content with the coolness I had displayed; except for the kick administered to Raymond, I had borne myself like a genuine philosopher; but I felt in the bottom of my heart that one is never a philosopher in respect to those things which concern self-esteem and honor. Honor! Ah! Figaro is right when he asks:

”Where in the devil has honor hidden itself?”

I decided to pack up my belongings; that would keep me busy, and I should be able to carry everything away at daybreak, and to leave forever that woman, to whom I had been married about eighteen months, and who had already made of me a--but one does not care to speak that word concerning one's self, although ready enough to apply it to others.

This, then, is the result of that happy marriage!--Ah! my dear sister, why did I hearken to you? Why did I marry a woman who did not love me--a woman who was not suited to me in any one respect! If we had been happy together, if I had enjoyed being with her, if I had not left her so much to her own resources, perhaps it would not have happened!

So that young innocent, that Agnes, that little simpleton, had betrayed me after only eighteen months! Perhaps it had been going on a long while already; and once more it was Raymond who---- But, in truth, I should have foreseen it; it was certain to happen.

”But,” I said to myself, ”this will be your last escapade, Monsieur Raymond; to-morrow I will call upon you with a pair of pistols, which I will load myself.”

The day was beginning to break; I went down into the street, ordered a messenger to go to my room with me, gave him all my goods and chattels to carry, and bade adieu to my home. Thenceforth I would resume my bachelor life.

I had my bundles carried to my old apartment. Ah! how rejoiced I was that I had kept it! It was as if I had divined that I should return to it some day. Madame Dupont stared at my bundles.

”Does this mean that monsieur is going to sleep in his room now?” she asked slyly.

”Yes, Madame Dupont; after this I am going to live as I used to.”

That business completed, I took my weapons and went to Raymond's apartment.

”Where are you going, monsieur?” inquired the concierge, when she saw me hurrying upstairs.

”To Monsieur Raymond's.”

”Why, monsieur, didn't you know that he'd gone away?”