Part 43 (1/2)
”Now I can cry at my ease, for he said that he should not come here any more!”
x.x.x
THE SECOND MEETING
On leaving Monsieur Gerbault's house, Gustave did not return at once to his uncle's office; he felt that he must be by himself, in the open air, and, although it was winter, he had no fear of the cold; on the contrary, it seemed to him that the keen north wind would cool his blood and tranquillize his mind, which the sight of f.a.n.n.y had overturned anew.
Having her before his eyes, more bewitching than ever, Gustave had realized how dearly he still loved her who had refused to be his wife.
And he had already found, in the depths of his heart, innumerable reasons to excuse her conduct; in his eyes, she was rather frivolous than guilty.
Now that he had seen f.a.n.n.y again, that she had talked with him as pleasantly as before her marriage, and had urged him to call upon her, Gustave did not know what to believe, what to think, what to conjecture, from it all. He asked himself why she wanted to see him. Whether it was because she still felt some affection for him, whether she derived any pleasure from his presence, whether she sympathized secretly with his grief; or was it simply for the purpose of flaunting in his face her brilliant social position, her superb gowns, and the homage that was paid to her?
Gustave walked a long time at random on the boulevard, where he met very few people, on account of the cold.
”No,” he said to himself; ”I will not go to her house! Have I courage to be a witness of her husband's happiness? Moreover, her husband hasn't invited me; it seems to me that he is sure to receive me very coldly.
That's what I would do in his place. But f.a.n.n.y didn't think of what she was saying; she invited me thoughtlessly--or else from simple courtesy.
Ah! she is very pretty still; she's a hundred times more fascinating than ever! I did very wrong to go to Monsieur Gerbault's!”
Suddenly the melancholy lover was roused from his reflections by someone who threw his arms about him, embraced him, and kissed him on the cheek, crying:
”Ah! here he is! it is he! At last I have found him--my dear, good Gustave! Victory! Castor has found Pollux! I have my cue!
”'And since I've found my faithful friend, My luck will take a different trend!'”
Gustave struggled to free himself, in order to see the face of the individual who was so lavish of tokens of affection, and he finally recognized his impromptu friend of f.a.n.n.y's wedding day, the man with whom he had dined at Deffieux's.
Cherami was the same as always. But his costume seemed even shabbier in the cold weather then prevailing than in summer; for his frock-coat, more threadbare than ever, was drawn so tightly across his shoulders that one could see that there was nothing under it; his plaid trousers, worn thinner than ever, evidently afforded his legs very little protection against the sharp north wind; and the Courb.i.+.c.hon hat, by dint of being planted on the side of his head, was beginning to resemble the one it had replaced. But all this did not prevent the ci-devant Beau Arthur from holding himself erect and eying everybody he met from top to toe.
”Why, it is Monsieur----”
”Arthur Cherami. Yes, my dear fellow; it is I, your faithful friend, your Pylades, who has been seeking you over hill and dale, and who even called to inquire for you at your uncle's,--Grandcourt, the banker,--who, I am bound to say, did not receive me with all the consideration I deserve! But uncles are not very amiable, as a general rule. He told me that you were in Spain.”
”He told the truth; I returned only last night.”
”And I have been scouring the four quarters of Paris every day, saying to myself: 'If Gustave has returned, I cannot help meeting him.'--And here you are, my dear friend, whose absence seemed so long! Well! don't we propose to shake hands with our intimate friend, on whose bosom we poured out our woes?”
But Gustave hesitated to give his hand to Cherami, and replied in a serious tone:
”Before shaking hands with you, monsieur, I must have an explanation with you. You fought a duel with Monsieur Auguste Monleard, and you made that duel inevitable by addressing an insulting remark to his bride. By what right did you take that step? Why did you do it? for what object?
Come, answer me.”
”Ah! par la sambleu! this is a cross-examination which I was far from expecting! I fight in a friend's cause, I wound his fortunate rival--I didn't kill him, to be sure; but still, I might have killed him. Then, your charmer would have been a widow, and you would have married her!”
”Ah! I thank heaven that Monsieur Monleard got off with a wound in the arm! If you had killed him, I should have been accused of the murder!”
”What's that? you? Everybody knows that it wasn't you who fought with him. I see a young man, miserable, desperate, because the woman he loves marries another. That young man interests me. I dine with him, and he pours his sorrows into my bosom. Every instant, he complains of the perfidy of the woman who has deceived him; and, that same day, when I chance to meet that faithless creature on her conqueror's arm, you would not have me try to avenge my friend's wrongs? d.a.m.nation! what the devil do you understand by friends.h.i.+p, I wonder? If that's your idea of it, why, adieu, bonjour, let's say no more about it! Go and look elsewhere for friends; but you won't find my sort lying around by the dozen!”