"No, I have not."

"Well, then, why do you ask me all these questions? I do not imagine that it is your purpose to make sport of me."

"Is it yours to pick a quarrel with me?"

"No, no! sapristi! I am not picking a quarrel with you--Gustave's uncle, and he my best friend! Oh! if you weren't his uncle, I don't say that--but you are his uncle.--Let us come to the point; I came to ask you where your nephew is at this moment."

"My nephew is travelling: he is in one place to-day, in another to-morrow."

"Oh! I see that we are going to have the same old song over again! You will not give me his address?--But if I want to write to him, to tell him something which will give him great pleasure, which will make him happy?"

"Tell me, and I'll write it to him."

"That isn't the same thing. But, no matter, I will tell you. You know, I suppose, that his _pa.s.sion_, whom he thought he was surely going to marry this time, has thrown him over again, in favor of a very rich old count?"

"I know all that, monsieur."

"Good! but what you don't know is that I don't propose that my friend shall be played with with impunity. That is why I hunted up this Comte de la Beriniere; I insulted him; we fought a duel, and he is now in his bed with a famous sword-thrust in his right side."

Monsieur Grandcourt jumped from his chair and struck his desk a violent blow, crying:

"Is it possible? You have done that?"

"As I have the honor to tell you. Do you wish to embrace me?"

"On the contrary, monsieur, I am much more inclined to throw you out of the window!"

"Indeed! well, as we are on the ground floor, if that will give you pleasure----"

"Why, monsieur, this is a horrible thing that you've done! And you call yourself Gustave's friend! You seem to be trying to wreck his life.

Can't you see that this f.a.n.n.y is an infernal coquette, who cares for nothing but money and pleasure, and who never had the slightest feeling of love for my nephew?"

"As far as that goes, I am entirely of your opinion."

"Very well! do you think, then, that marriage with such a woman would make Gustave happy?"

"_Dame!_ since he adores her----"

"Why, monsieur, do I need to tell you that love doesn't last forever?

Besides, what purpose does that sentiment serve in a household when it's not reciprocated? Gustave is kind-hearted, sensitive, affectionate--much too affectionate. What he needs is a sweet, modest, loving helpmeet."

"That is true!" murmured Cherami; "and I know one of that sort."

"And you would have him marry a woman who has spurned him twice? Why, to miss being this f.a.n.n.y's husband was the most fortunate thing that could happen to him! All his true friends ought to congratulate him on it. And you, monsieur, you set about removing the obstacle which had risen between my nephew and that widow! You fight with the man she preferred to Gustave! Ah! monsieur, cease to call yourself his friend; for his bitterest enemy would not have acted otherwise!"

Cherami paced the floor of the office with long strides, and bit his lips, muttering:

"Sacrebleu! that is all true. There is good sense in what you say. On the impulse of the moment, I didn't reflect. I saw but one thing to do--and that was to prevent the little widow's making a fool of Gustave."

"Oh! monsieur, she would do it much more effectively if he should marry her."

"After all, I didn't kill the count--a sword-thrust in the side is nothing; he will get well; the doctor said so."

"That is possible; but who can say that this duel will not change his plans, his ideas? At the count's age, a wound, an illness, sometimes ages a man ten years; and then love takes flight, and with it all thought of marriage."

"Oh! the count was dead in love, and when a fire gets started in an old house it burns faster than a new one."

"Do you still consider, monsieur, that it's very important to tell my nephew of your fine exploit? Have you any wish to see him rush to that wretched f.a.n.n.y's side again?"

"You have changed my ideas entirely, dear uncle. I'm a hot-headed creature; but I am not pig-headed. When I feel that I've done a foolish thing, I admit it."

"That's something."

"But, I tell you again, the count's wound is not dangerous; he will recover."

"I trust so, monsieur; and above all things that he will marry this f.a.n.n.y."

"In that case, you will no longer feel inclined to throw me out of the window?"

"In that case, I will forgive you for this last escapade."

"Adieu, dear uncle! Look you: you are hard with me; but in my heart I don't lay it up against you, because I see that you love your nephew."

"Ah! have you just discovered that?"

"I shall take pains to keep you informed as to the health of our venerable lover. As soon as he is on his legs again, I will come to tell you. And then, if he should try to back out of marrying the little widow, why, par la sambleu! he will have to draw his sword again."

"I beg you, monsieur, don't interfere any more; that's the only way to have the thing end satisfactorily."

"You haven't much confidence in me, dear uncle; but I will compel you to do me justice."--And Cherami took leave of the banker, saying to himself: "That devil of a man is right. I made an a.s.s of myself; but I'll go to work differently now."

LVI

IMPATIENCE WITHOUT LOVE

While these things were taking place, Madame Monleard was in a state of feverish unrest.

Since the Comte de la Beriniere had definitely offered her his hand, which she had not refused, he came every day to pay his respects to her.

The ten months of widowhood, which the conventionalities demand, had pa.s.sed. The count, who was in haste to witness the coronation of his flame, was already arranging the preliminaries of his marriage. Among them were gifts,--jewels and cashmere shawls,--and, on the day preceding that on which he had received Cherami's visit, he had pa.s.sed the whole day taking f.a.n.n.y about to see the latest styles in gowns and shawls, so that he might understand her tastes and govern his purchases accordingly. And the pretty widow had shown no embarra.s.sment about riding in the carriage which was soon to belong to her.

During the day following Cherami's challenge, the count, having to seek seconds for his duel, had had no time to call on f.a.n.n.y. He did not see her until evening, and, like the well-bred man he was, had taken care not to mention the affair which he had on his hands because of her. The next day, his seconds had called on his adversary, and had then reported to Monsieur de la Beriniere that the time and place and all the details of the duel had been agreed upon. That had given the count further food for thought. He was no coward, and yet the duel was exceedingly disagreeable to him; his interviews with the pretty widow had shown the effects of it; he had been less amorous, less affable, and less cheerful in her presence.

When the following day came and went without a call from the count, f.a.n.n.y was first surprised, then vexed, then alarmed. Twenty times she went to her mirror, which told her that she was as pretty as ever, and that her elderly adorer ought to be only too happy that she condescended to pretend to love him. Meanwhile, the day pa.s.sed, and the evening, and the count did not appear.

"He means to make me some beautiful present," said f.a.n.n.y to herself; "and he wants to bring it himself; but all these shopkeepers are so little to be depended on! He probably waited in vain, and didn't want to come without his present. I shall have it to-morrow."