"Little Marguerite--ah, yes! I recognize you now. You were my neighbor's lover."

"Oh, no! I was only her friend; but I used to go there often, and we used to hear you come in. Ah! how happy I was in those days!"

"You were happy when I broke the window? Did that amuse you?"

"It seems that I must always happen on something to remind me of that time, although I try to avoid it. However, I am glad to see you."

"You are very good, monsieur. That must be at least five years ago, more than five years, in fact, and I wasn't married then."

"Ah! have you been married since?"

"Mon Dieu! don't mention it! I don't know what crazy idea came into my head, I who never gave a thought to love, when one day--prout, prout!--it took me like a longing to sneeze; I fancied that I was in love with a young cook who had sometimes asked me the time, then for a light; in short, trifling things which indicated a purpose to sc.r.a.pe an acquaintance. Suzanne was very pretty; yes, she was a superb creature, well put together; I will do justice to her physical charms. She had saved twelve hundred francs by cheating her employers a little in vegetables and b.u.t.ter. I said to myself: 'That will be enough to set up a nice little tailor's shop, after the style of the Palais-Royal.' I offered my hand which she accepted, and we were married; I hired a shop on Boulevard du Pont-aux-Choux, all went well for----"

"For several months?"

"Prout! you are very polite! For a few days, a week at most. After that my wife complained that I was slow, that I talked too much, that I drank. For my part, I claimed that she ought to do nothing but make b.u.t.tonholes. She refused to take hold of the b.u.t.tonholes, and that made me mad; I persisted, she was obstinate, and to make a long story short, we fought! oh! we fought like prize fighters! and once we had got into the habit of it, it was all over, we never missed a single day. Prout!

prout! morning and night! you should have seen how we hammered each other!"

"Wouldn't it have been better to leave your wife?"

"To be sure it would, and that is what I said to myself; one night when my wife had almost torn off my left ear, I packed up my clothes and I left her."

"Have you seen her since?"

"I'm not such a fool. I have no desire to see her again, and for her part I fancy that she isn't anxious to see me. It's all over now! To the devil with love! Whether my wife dies or not, it's all one to me; I shall never marry again."

"You have no children?"

"What do you suppose? As if we had time for that when we were always fighting! And faith, I am glad that we hadn't any; they would have been left on my hands and I should have had to support the brats; and that would be hard for a man who cannot feed himself every day."

"But your wife was faithful to you, at all events?"

"Faithful? the devil! as if I paid any attention to that! In fact we only lived together four months, and that didn't make me rich! For some time past I haven't had any work at all, and a man's fingers get stiff doing nothing. But for all that, there's no reason why you should come here with your purse in your hand!"

"Look you, Monsieur Pettermann, I have not made myself understood; I had no intention of insulting you."

"I am not insulted, but----"

"I was told that you were without work, and I simply proposed to give you my custom."

"Oh! that makes a difference! your custom, that's all right."

"I can't show you to-night what I want you to do; but I thought that there would be no harm in offering you a little money in advance on what you do for me. We have lived under the same roof before, and we know each other; I should be very sorry to fall out with you."

"Monsieur, if you offer me that in advance for the clothes I may make for you, that's a very different thing. Give me what you choose; I will take it and I will not charge you any more on account of it."

"All right; here is forty francs; we will settle up later."

"Forty francs; I will make you a nice coat and waistcoat and trousers for that. And as for singing, if it disturbs you----"

"No, sing on, Pettermann, sing on; now that I know that it's you, it won't annoy me any more; I shall imagine that I am still living in my old apartment."

I left the tailor, who could not make up his mind which pocket to put his forty francs in, and I returned to my room. But neither that night, nor during the next week, did I hear Pettermann sing, because he did not come home until midnight, and because he was always drunk and went to sleep as soon as he was in bed.

XVIII

A MEETING.--DEPARTURE

My conversation with the tailor had quieted my thoughts; they were a little less black, and I slept better; when we become depressed, we shun all sorts of diversion, we avoid our friends, whose presence would eventually allay our suffering. At such times we ought to be treated like those invalids who are forced to take decoctions which they refuse to take, but which are essential to their cure.

One morning I went to see Ernest, who had been to my rooms at least ten times without finding me.

His wife scolded me warmly for my behavior.

"You avoid your true friends," she said to me; "you live like a wolf!

that is perfectly absurd. Ought you to punish us for other people's faults? Your wife has chosen to keep her daughter--is that any reason for you to despair? Can you not go to see her?"

"Go to see her! oh! I have longed to do it a thousand times; but she is with her mother; and I could not bear the sight of her."

"Her mother is not always with her," said Ernest; "when she comes to Paris, and that has happened quite often lately, she rarely brings her daughter with her."

"What! Eugenie has come to Paris already? I did not believe that she would dare to show herself here."

"You must remember that in society you are the one who is blamed. It is you who have abandoned a lovely wife, whom you made wretched. I report exactly what people say; it does not make you angry, does it?"

"On the contrary, I am very glad to hear it. Go on, Ernest; tell me what you have learned."

"After pa.s.sing only a fortnight in the country, your wife returned to Paris. She hired a handsome apartment on Rue d'Antin. She has been going into society and has indulged in amus.e.m.e.nts of all sorts. She dresses with the greatest elegance; she is seen at the theatre, at b.a.l.l.s, and at concerts. However, she returns often to the country, pa.s.ses a few days there, and then comes back here. The night before last I saw her at Madame de Saint-Albin's reception."

"You saw her?"

"Yes; there were a great many people there. When I arrived, she was at a card table. She was talking very loud, and laughing; attracted by her loud voice, I walked in that direction. When she caught sight of me, my eyes were fixed upon her; she turned hers away, and a great change came over her face; her brow darkened, she stopped talking, and soon left the table."

"Did you speak to her?"

"No, I had no wish to; and for her part I think that she was no more anxious than I, for she carefully avoided meeting my eyes. She went away while I was still looking for her in the salon; I believe that my presence was the cause of her going."

"Were not you at this reception, madame?" I asked Madame Ernest.

"Oh, no, Monsieur Henri! you know that people do not invite me; I am not married."

It seemed to me that as she said this the little woman sighed and glanced furtively at Ernest. After a moment she continued:

"However, if I were married, I should not care any more about going into society! The little that I have seen of it has not made me love it."