Part 55 (1/2)

”I will unearth him, never fear; I have my cue!”

x.x.xVIII

THE TWO SISTERS

A fortnight after her husband's death, f.a.n.n.y was installed in small and unpretentious apartments in the upper part of Faubourg Poissonniere.

With her dowry of twenty thousand francs, the proceeds of the sale of her furniture, horses, and carriages, and the sum which she had made by speculating in railway and other shares, the young widow had an income of about twenty-five hundred francs. That was very little, when compared with the handsome fortune she had enjoyed for a moment, but it was enough to enable a woman who was a skilful manager to live comfortably.

Monsieur Gerbault had suggested to the young widow that she should come to live with him and her sister, as she had done before her marriage, but f.a.n.n.y had refused; she preferred to remain free; and then, too, in all probability, she cherished some hopes for the future, and as she looked at her reflection in her mirror,--for she had retained enough of her furniture to furnish her new abode handsomely,--the pretty creature said to herself that plenty of aspirants to the honor of putting an end to her widowhood would surely come forward; and that, by living alone, she would be more at liberty and better able to choose.

As for the deceased, his suicide had been the sensation of the Bourse and of society for a week; a fortnight later, it was rarely mentioned, and at the end of a month everybody had forgotten it.

But, no: there was one person who often thought of him, to deplore his melancholy end, to regret that fortune had been so cruel to that young man, who, for his part, had treated fortune too cavalierly when she smiled on him. That person was not his widow, but her sister Adolphine.

The poor child had at first felt terribly ashamed because she had betrayed the deep interest she felt in Gustave; but she was unable to control the emotion which had seized her when she thought that Cherami had come to inform her of his death. Later, when she knew the truth, she had wept a long while over Auguste's death; then she had hurried to her sister, to comfort her, to mingle her own tears with hers; but she had found f.a.n.n.y much more engrossed by her pecuniary affairs than by the loss of her husband. Finally, as the young widow found that her sister came to see her every day, and that she persisted in talking about Auguste and shedding abundant tears to his memory, she said to her one day:

”My dear girl, if your purpose in coming here is to divert my thoughts, you go about it very awkwardly. Monsieur Monleard is dead, because he preferred it so; he left me, because he chose to, without troubling himself overmuch as to what was to become of me; frankly, it was hardly worth while to marry me, just to act like this after only six months. He was responsible for my refusing a young man who, as it turns out, would have made me much happier--that poor Gustave, who loved me so dearly!

For he really did love me, did Gustave, and, according to what you told me the other day, he is doing very well indeed now. Ten thousand francs a year, he earns, I believe?”

Adolphine wiped her eyes and swallowed her tears, as she replied in a faltering voice:

”Yes--I think so.”

”What! you think so? So you're not sure of it now?”

”Why, yes; he told me so himself.”

”Very good! with ten thousand francs one can live comfortably enough.

One can't have such a stable as I had with Monsieur Monleard; but it's better never to have a carriage than to have to give it up. In fact, I don't see why I should cry my eyes out for the dead man. In the first place, I despise men who kill themselves; everyone is ent.i.tled to his own opinion, but that's mine. A man should be able to endure the blows of destiny. Do you know where Gustave is now?”

”No, I don't; he intended to leave Paris again.”

”That's strange. Formerly, he always told you where he was going; and now that I ask you, you don't know anything about him.”

”He said something about Germany, that's all I know.”

”On his uncle's business, I suppose?”

”I think so.”

”Well, people don't travel forever; he'll return some time, poor Gustave! and we shall meet again. Ah! he had changed tremendously for the better when he came back from Spain; he had acquired ease of manner and refinement, hadn't he?”

”I didn't notice.”

”Oh! how angry you make me!--It seems to me, however, that it's more interesting to talk about the living than the dead.”

”Everybody isn't consoled as quickly as you.”