Part 30 (1/2)

Madame d'Argy's long tortoise-sh.e.l.l knitting-needles stopped.

”I am glad to hear it, my dear,” she said, coldly, ”I am glad anybody can be happy. There are so many of us who are sad.”

”But why are you pleased?” asked Fred, looking at her, as if by some instinct he understood that he had something to do with it.

”Our prodigal has returned,” answered Giselle, with a little air of satisfaction, very artificial, however, for she could hardly breathe, so great was her fear and her emotion. ”My house is in the garb of rejoicing.”

”The prodigal? Do you mean your husband?” said Madame d'Argy, maliciously.

”Oh! I despair of him,” replied Giselle, lightly. ”No, I speak of a prodigal who did not go far, and who made haste to repent. I am speaking of Jacqueline.”

There was complete silence. The knitting-needles ticked rapidly, a slight flush rose on the dark cheeks of Fred.

”All I beg,” said Madame d'Argy, ”is that you will not ask me to eat the fatted calf in her honor. The comings and going of Mademoiselle de Nailles have long ceased to have the slightest interest for me.”

”They have for Fred at any rate; he has just proved it, I should say,”

replied Giselle.

By this time the others were as much embarra.s.sed as Giselle. She saw it, and went on quickly:

”Their names are together in everybody's mouth; you can not hinder it.”

”I regret it deeply-and allow me to make one remark: it seems to me you show a want of tact such as I should never have imagined in telling us--”

Giselle read in Fred's eyes, which were steadily fixed on her, that he was, on that point, of his mother's opinion. She went on, however, still pretending to blunder.

”Forgive me--but I have been so anxious about you ever since I heard there was to be a second meeting--”

”A second meeting!” screamed Madame d'Argy, who, as she read no paper but the Gazette de France, or occasionally the Debats, knew nothing of all the rumors that find their echo in the daily papers.

”Oh, 'mon Dieu'! I thought you knew--”

”You need not frighten my mother,” said Fred, almost angrily; ”Monsieur de Cymier has written a letter which puts an end to our quarrel. It is the letter of a man of honor apologizing for having spoken lightly, for having repeated false rumors without verifying them--in short, retracting all that he had said that reflected in any way on Mademoiselle de Nailles, and authorizing me, if I think best, to make public his retraction. After that we can have nothing more to say to each other.”

”He who makes himself the champion to defend a young girl's character,”

said Madame d'Argy, sententiously, ”injures her as much as those who have spoken evil of her.”

”That is exactly what I think,” said Giselle. ”The self-const.i.tuted champion has given the evil rumor circulation.”

There was again a painful silence. Then the intrepid little woman resumed: ”This step on the part of Monsieur de Cymier seems to have rendered my errand unnecessary. I had thought of a way to end this sad affair; a very simple way, much better, most certainly, than men cutting their own throats or those of other people. But since peace has been made over the ruins of Jacqueline's reputation, I had better say nothing and go away.”

”No--no! Let us hear what you had to propose,” said Fred, getting up from his couch so quickly that he jarred his bandaged arm, and uttered a cry of pain, which seemed very much like an oath, too.

Giselle was silent. Standing before the hearth, she was warming her small feet, watching, as she did so, Madame d'Argy's profile, which was reflected in the mirror. It was severe--impenetrable. It was Fred who spoke first.

”In the first place,” he said, hesitating, ”are you sure that Mademoiselle de Nailles has not just arrived from Monaco?”

”I am certain that for a week she has been living quietly with Modeste, and that, though she pa.s.sed through Monaco, she did not stay there--twenty-four hours, finding that the air of that place did not agree with her.”

”But what do you say to what Monsieur Martel saw with his own eyes, and which is confirmed by public rumor?” cried Madame d'Argy, as if she were giving a challenge.