The Seven Cardinal Sins: Envy and Indolence Part 65

"If I am not mistaken, the object of this letter is to make some one suppose that we have spent several days together recently."

"Yes, yes, that is it exactly. Well, what of it?"

"In that case, I think it advisable to tell you that my husband is unfortunately endowed with such a prodigious amount of energy and activity that, though he is almost always out of the house, he nevertheless finds a way to be almost always in my room; in fact, he rushes in and out about a dozen times a day, so if his testimony should be invoked, he would be sure to say that he had never seen you here."

"I foresaw this difficulty, but of two dangers, one must choose the least. Send this letter without delay, I beg of you, by one of your servants; but no, he might talk. You had better entrust it to the post.

It will arrive in time, even then."

Madame de Luceval rang the bell.

A footman answered the summons.

His mistress was about to give him the letter, but she changed her mind and asked instead:

"Is Baptiste here?"

"Yes, madame la marquise."

"Send him to me at once."

"Why this servant instead of the other, Florence?" inquired Madame d'Infreville.

"The other man knows how to read. He is rather inquisitive, too, and he might think it singular that I wrote to you while you were here. The man I sent for cannot read, and is very stupid besides, so there is very little danger to apprehend from him."

"You are right, a thousand times right, Florence. In my excitement, I did not think of all this."

"Did madame la marquise send for me?" inquired Baptiste, appearing in the doorway.

"Do you know the flower girl that has a shop near the Chinese bath-house?" inquired Florence.

"Yes, madame la marquise."

"Go there at once, and buy me two large bunches of Parma violets."

"Yes, madame."

The man turned to go.

"Oh, I forgot," exclaimed Madame de Luceval, calling him back. "I want you to post this letter on your way."

"Has madame any other commissions?"

"No."

So Baptiste departed.

Madame d'Infreville understood and appreciated her friend's generosity in thus making herself an accessory to the deed.

"Thank you, thank you, my dearest Florence," she exclaimed, gratefully.

"Heaven grant that your kindness may not prove unavailing."

"I hope it may not, indeed, but--"

"Florence, listen to me. The only way I can prove my grat.i.tude for the great service you have just rendered me is to place myself at your mercy,--in other words, to conceal nothing from you. I ought to have done that at first, and then explained the object of this letter, instead of exacting this proof of your devotion and friends.h.i.+p; but I admit that I was afraid you would refuse my request and blame me when you learned that--"

Then, after a moment's hesitation, Valentine said, resolutely, though she blushed deeply up to her very eyes:

"Florence, I have a lover."

"I suspected as much, Valentine."

"Do not condemn me without a hearing, I beseech you."

"My poor Valentine, I remember only one thing,--the confidence you have shown in me."

"Ah, but for my mother, I would not have stooped to this trickery and falsehood. I would have borne all the consequences of my wrong-doing, for I, at least, have the courage of my actions, but in my mother's present precarious condition of health, a scandal would kill her. Oh, Florence, though I am culpable, I am also very miserable," exclaimed Madame d'Infreville, bursting into tears, and throwing herself in her friend's arms.

"Calm yourself, I beseech you, Valentine," said the young marquise, though she shared her companion's emotion. "Trust to my sincere affection, and open your heart to your friend. It will at least be some consolation to you."

"My only hope is in your affection. Yes, Florence, I feel and know that you love me; that conviction alone gives me courage to make this painful confession. But, stay, there is another confession which I wish to have off my mind first. If I have come, after a long estrangement, to ask this great favour of you, it is not only because I counted blindly upon your friends.h.i.+p, but because, of all the women of my acquaintance, you are the only one my husband never visits. Now, listen to me: When I married M. d'Infreville, you were still in the convent. You were still a young girl, and my natural reserve prevented me from telling you many things,--among them, the fact that I married without love."

"Like myself," murmured Florence.

"The marriage pleased my mother, and a.s.sured me a large fortune, consequently I unfortunately yielded to my mother's persuasions all the more readily as I, too, was dazzled by the advantages of such a position; so I married M. d'Infreville, without realising, alas! what grievous obligations I was incurring, and at what a price I was selling my liberty. Though I have abundant cause to complain of my husband, my own wrong-doing prevents any recrimination on my part. Without trying to excuse my own weakness, I will endeavour to state the facts of the case, clearly and impartially. M. d'Infreville, though he should be in his prime, is a valetudinarian, because, in his youth, he plunged into all sorts of excesses. He is morose, because he regrets the past; imperious and stern, because he has no heart. In his eyes, I have never been anything but a penniless young girl, whom he condescended to marry in order to make a sort of nurse out of me, and for a long time I accepted this role, and performed the duties it involved religiously,--this role which was not only so trying but also so humiliating and disgraceful, because the attentions I paid my husband were not from the heart; and too late, alas! I realised how vile my conduct had been."

"Valentine--"

"No, Florence, no, the term is none too severe. I married M.

d'Infreville without love. I married him because he was rich. I sold myself to him, body and soul, and such conduct is vile and disgraceful, I tell you."

"You blame yourself too much, Valentine. You were not thinking as much about yourself as you were about your mother, I am sure."

"And my mother was less solicitous about herself than about me. M.

d'Infreville's wealth made filial deference on my part only too easy. At first, I was resigned to my fate, at least in a measure. After our marriage, my husband's health was so poor as to confine him to the house most of the time; but after a few months had elapsed, a marked change for the better became apparent in his condition, thanks to my nursing, perhaps; but from that time his habits, too, underwent an entire change.

I saw him but seldom; he was scarcely ever at home, and I soon heard that he had a mistress."

"Poor Valentine!"

"A woman known to all Paris. My husband gave her a magnificent establishment, and made so little effort to conceal his relations with her that I learned all the particulars of the scandalous affair through public hearsay. I ventured to remonstrate with M. d'Infreville, not from any feeling of jealousy, Heaven knows! but I begged him, out of consideration for me, to have a little more regard for appearances. Even these very temperate reproaches irritated my husband, and he asked me, in the most insolent and disdainful manner, what right I had to meddle in this matter. He reminded me that I was indebted to him for a lot to which I could not otherwise have aspired, and that, as he had married me without a dowry, I had no right to make the slightest complaint."

"Why, this conduct was shameful, infamous!"

"'But, as you so flagrantly fail in your duty, monsieur, what would you say if I should forget mine?' I asked."

"'There is no comparison to be made between you and me,' he replied. 'I am the master; it is your duty to obey. You owe everything to me; I owe you nothing. Fail in your duty, and I will turn you out into the street,--you and your mother, who lives upon my charity.'"

"Such insolence and cruelty are inconceivable!"

"A wise and commendable inspiration seized me. I went to my mother, resolved to separate from my husband, and never to return to his house.