But when we listen to some attractive person, who has the power to describe what she feels, whose eyes and voice are equally eloquent, who charms us by her thoughts and attracts us by her conversation, do we pay any heed to her ugliness? No, we forget it; more than that, it actually disappears, and the face that repelled us at first becomes agreeable to us.

"Are men of great minds ever ugly?"

Doubtless beauty combined with wit aids materially in seducing us; but if we can have only one of the two, I am sure that in marrying we should not set great store by externals. That one should take a pretty mistress, without bothering one's head as to her mental powers, is perfectly natural; one can leave her as soon as she becomes a bore. But a wife! a companion for the rest of one's life! what a difference! I know there are many husbands who spend less time with their wives than with their mistresses; but I am not speaking for their benefit. When I married, I intended to have a happy home, not to leave my wife and run after other women; and yet, as you will see, that was what I was obliged to do.

Deneterre had been away twelve days, and still he did not return. Madame de Pontchartrain, who knew that I proposed to take my wife to Paris, was more savage than ever; she tried every day to play some fresh trick on me; she watched for her niece as the cat watches for the mouse; and whenever she saw her, she inflamed her against me. All my time was occupied in defeating her little plots; we played _Guerre ouverte_ in the house, and that afforded me a little distraction.

By dint of slandering me, the old lady had come to believe a portion of her slanders; and if by chance I went to some reception, which very rarely happened, I was conscious that a confused, incessant muttering and whispering began as soon as I appeared. Some looked at me, others turned their heads away; the old dowagers and the mothers, who were hot partisans of Madame de Pontchartrain, lost no time in moving away from me; there were some who even made a gesture of alarm at my approach, as if I were plague-stricken.

I laughed at all this with the sensible, reasonable people; but they were not in the majority; besides, it is much easier to speak unkindly than kindly of a person; it would seem that faults are apparent to every eye, and that good qualities keep out of sight.

At last Deneterre returned. My apartment was waiting for me on Boulevard Montmartre; I could occupy it at once; everything was ready for my wife and myself, and our servants were engaged.

I did not propose to delay. I urged Pelagie to hurry with her trunks and boxes and bundles. She seconded me warmly enough; I believe that at heart she was not sorry to escape from her aunt's authority, and to see new places. And such places! Paris! the paradise of womankind! and the h.e.l.l of---- Great heaven! I forgot that I was one myself!

It was all over; I had bid my sister, her husband, and my nephews adieu.

Pelagie went to take leave of her aunt, for I would not have her fail in courtesy toward her. Madame de Pontchartrain refused to allow her niece to go; I was obliged to go after her. She declared that I had no right to take her away, and tried to detain her by force. I was compelled to abduct my wife; the old aunt pursued us to the front door and threatened to come to Paris after us. But I knew that she would not; people do not play boston in the morning there.

We started; and in my delight I kissed my wife! It was just six weeks since my wedding, and five months since I had left Paris.

At last I saw it again, that splendid city, and I exclaimed:

"Hail! city of uproar, and of mud and smoke!"

I prefer thy uproar to the gossip and scandal and petty malignity of the provinces; thy mud to the gra.s.s that grows in the untrodden streets of a small provincial town; and thy smoke to those solid pleasures--which I have failed to find elsewhere.

x.x.xIII

RAYMOND REAPPEARS

The new apartment, in which we installed ourselves at once, was large, convenient, and well arranged. I noticed that there was a room adjoining my study, where I could easily have a bed placed in case my wife should be indisposed and should prefer to sleep alone; for it is well to antic.i.p.ate everything.

We had two servants, a maid and a cook; those were all that we needed. I had neither horses nor intrigues, consequently I had no occasion for the services of a Frontin or a Lafleur, who, having nothing to do, would be driven to emptying my wine cellar, seducing my maid-servants, and robbing me, to pa.s.s the time away.

During the first fortnight after our arrival in Paris, my wife did not give me a moment's rest; I had to take her everywhere: to drive, to the theatre, to concerts, to the monuments and curiosities of every sort.

She compelled me to go all over the city with her in the mornings, being determined to become acquainted with every quarter. She was never weary of gazing in admiration at the Palais-Royal, and she would stand by the half-hour in front of milliners' and dry goods shops; she was in ecstasies, in the seventh heaven!--All the people, the noise, the vehicles, the beautiful dresses, the young men who, on the fashionable promenades and at the theatres, ogle women so respectfully and make such pretty grimaces to those who meet their approval--all these fascinated Madame Dorsan, who began to lift her eyes and even to flash some very innocent little glances therefrom. Oh! as for that, I was sure it would come.

I knew Paris by heart; I got a little tired of parading through the streets every day; still, a husband should be obliging. Thank heaven!

the time came when there was nothing more to see unless we began over again; which my wife would not have been sorry to do; but I needed rest.

Moreover, she discovered that a young wife could without impropriety go out alone in the morning; she knew our quarter very well, and I saw that she would make the most of the liberty I gave her.

At last I could breathe freely. I was tired to death of plays, driving, and questions; I was delighted to be alone. I had as yet had no time to visit my little apartment on Rue Saint-Florentin. If my wife had known that I had a bachelor apartment, if her aunt had learned of it, I should have been adjudged guilty of carrying on secret intrigues. But I had no desire for anything of the sort; never again would I take any woman to my former lodgings. I wished that I had never taken one there.

There was one spot which I longed yet dreaded to pa.s.s. While escorting my wife about Paris, I had always managed to avoid taking her there.

Why? I had no very clear idea; but I wanted to go there first alone; I should be more at liberty to stop; I should find my friend the messenger there, and perhaps I might---- But, no; I would not question him; what need had I to do it now?

My wife was asleep; it was only eight o'clock, and we did not breakfast until ten; I had time to go out for a moment. I proposed to visit my former lodgings; I walked in that direction, but it was also the direction in which Nicette lived. Pa.s.sing through Rue Saint-Honore, I had not the strength to resist the secret longing that impelled me toward the flower shop. I walked very fast at first, but the nearer I approached it, the more I slackened my pace. I did not intend to go in, nor did I intend to speak to her; but I felt that I would like to see her.

I saw the shrubs standing in front of the shop; I crossed the street in order not to be on the same side. If I should pa.s.s close to her, she might speak to me, and I knew that at the sound of her voice I should stop in spite of myself.

I made up my mind at last to pa.s.s, and I walked very quickly, just glancing across. But I did not see her; I saw a woman with an ordinary face--oh! not in the least like Nicette. Thereupon I crossed over and walked by the shop; she was not there. I turned, walked back, and stopped, pretending to examine the flowers. The woman came to me and asked:

"Does monsieur wish to buy something?"

"No, no!" I said, and walked away toward my messenger's stand; I was impatient to question him. But he was not there; I waited nearly an hour, and at last he came; he recognized me at once.

"Your servant, monsieur; if I'd known you was here---- It's a long time since I saw you, monsieur."

"That is true; and during that time?"

"Bless me! there's been lots of changes; the pretty flower girl ain't there any more."

"She isn't?"

"No, monsieur; she sold her stock to Mere Thomas, who you see yonder in her place."

"She sold her stock?"

"Yes, monsieur, and sold it well, too; for it's a good shop. But they say Mamzelle Nicette didn't need it, because she'd made her fortune--come into money."

"And where is she now?"

"Bless my soul! monsieur, I don't know; she didn't say where she was going, and we don't never see her now."

"And that man who used to come to see her every day?"

"Why! he kep' on coming, but not so often toward the end."

"Did he take her away?"

"I don't know nothing about it, monsieur; but I'm inclined to think she sold her stock of her own accord."

"When was that?"

"Why, near six weeks ago."

"And you don't know where she's gone?"

"No, monsieur."

I paid the messenger and walked away; it was useless to question him any further. Nicette had left her shop; what had become of her? what was she doing? was she living with Raymond? That seemed impossible. Could he have hired an apartment for her? I did not know what to think, but I hastened to Rue Saint-Florentin.

My concierge uttered a cry of surprise when she saw me.

"Ah! there you are, monsieur! We really thought you must be dead! Do you know you've been away almost six months?"