"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 Courbichon 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 friendship, 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!"

Gustave detained Cherami as he turned away, and offered him his hand, saying:

"Come, come, don't get excited, hot-head! I see that one cannot bear you a grudge; give me your hand!"

"This is very fortunate. He realizes at last that I am entirely devoted to him, and that his happiness alone is my object."

"My dear monsieur----"

"Don't call me _monsieur_, or it will be my turn to be angry!"

"Very well! my dear Arthur, that duel of yours annoyed me very much, because I was afraid that it would have set f.a.n.n.y against me altogether.

But, thank heaven! it did nothing of the kind."

"As if women were ever angry because a man fights for them! You evidently don't know them; on the contrary, it flatters their self-esteem--it serves to set them off a little."

"I have just seen f.a.n.n.y, I met her at her sister's. I didn't expect to see her there. Ah! if you knew--I am still all upset by that meeting."

"Do you mean that you still love that young woman?"

"Do I love her! Alas! yes, I love her still, and I feel that my pa.s.sion will make my whole life miserable."

"Did the little lady receive you coldly?"

"Why, no; on the contrary, she gave me a most delicious smile, and talked to me just as she used to before her marriage. In fact,--can you believe it?--she invited me to a large party that she gives next Thursday."

"And still you have a sad, woe-begone air! why, I should say that you have every reason to rejoice!"

"Why so?"

"Because when this lady, who knows that you once adored her, and who must have seen that you love her still--when, I say, she asks you to come and see her, it means that she proposes to reward you for your constancy--to crown your pa.s.sion. Pardieu! that's not hard to understand. Go to her party, my dear friend, and I'll stake my head that within six weeks the husband has rooms at the sign of the Stag or the Crescent, as long as you choose."

"Ah! what do you presume to imply? You imagine that f.a.n.n.y is capable of betraying her husband, of forgetting her duty? No, no! she may be fickle, coquettish, if you please, but she will never be guilty. And I myself--oh! that is not my conception of love. A woman who shares her favors--who pretends to feel for one man the love which she really feels for another--oh! I should soon cease to love such a woman!"

Cherami shook his head, as he muttered:

"You are young, my dear Gustave; you are very young! You don't know the world as I do. You say that you still adore your f.a.n.n.y, and that you wouldn't have her deceive her husband for you?"

"In the first place, she wouldn't do it!"

"I am strongly inclined to believe the contrary; but let us admit that you are right. I see but one means of making you happy, and that is to carry the young woman off. Do you want me to do that? I'll undertake it, if you do."

"No, my dear Arthur; I have never had such a thought. f.a.n.n.y has all that she wants--she is happy; I shall be very careful to avoid disturbing her happiness; I have neither the right nor the desire to do so. But, as I feel that the sight of her intensifies my suffering, by reviving the pa.s.sion which I am trying to extinguish; as I do not wish to expose myself--for some time, at least--to the chance of meeting her at the theatre or in society, why, I shall leave Paris, and travel once more.

My uncle always has business in other countries, and he will not be sorry to employ me in that way again."

"That's a crazy idea of yours! So, if your love happens to hang on, that little woman will make you do the tour of the world?"

"Let us hope that time will cure me."