Le Cocu Part 19

I submitted to be led away; I did whatever anyone wanted that night. I saw a tall, yellow woman who resembled a piece of old tapestry, and who looked as if she had never laughed since she came into the world. I made haste to bow and to run away. It seemed to me that one must necessarily catch the _spleen_ in Madame de Beausire's company.

The supper hour arrived; at last the ball was drawing to a close; and although I was not exactly bored, still I should have been very glad to be at home with my wife.

The ladies were conducted to their seats. I looked after the comfort of everybody; I saw that the tables, large and small alike, were properly waited upon.

"Pray rest a moment and eat something," people said to me.

Much I thought about eating! I preferred to hurry the supper of that mult.i.tude.

I found Giraud and his two children sitting at a small table with three young men. Giraud had a currant cake on his knees, and he had slipped a bowl of jelly under the table, not choosing to pa.s.s it, for fear it would not come back to him. I called for fish, chickens, and pate; I covered his children's plates with cakes. Giraud was in ecstasy; he shook my hand, murmuring:

"This is one of the finest weddings I have ever seen, and G.o.d knows that I have seen a tremendous number of them!"

Madame Giraud, who had been obliged to leave the large table when the other ladies rose, walked behind her husband and children at that moment, with an enormous reticule hanging on her arm. While pretending to pa.s.s the gentlemen what they wanted, I saw that she kept opening the bag and thrusting cakes, biscuit, and even pie crust into it. Giraud, seeing that I had noticed his wife's manuvring, said to her angrily, as she was trying to force some macaroons into her bag:

"What on earth are you doing, Madame Giraud? What sort of manners are these? You are putting macaroons into your bag!"

"Just for Azor, my dear, the poor beast. He is so fond of macaroons, you know. They would be wasted, so what harm does it do? I want poor Azor to have a little of the pleasure of this party."

"You know very well that I don't like such things, Madame Giraud."

I appeased Giraud, who pretended to be very angry; then I walked away, in order to leave his wife at full liberty; and she ended by making a perfect balloon of her bag.

Meanwhile, the tables were gradually deserted; many people returned to the ballroom, but many others entered their carriages, and I considered that the latter acted wisely.

The ball was more agreeable perhaps, because it was more comfortable to dance. Eugenie continued to be invited, and I must needs content myself with dancing opposite her; but there were figures in which we took each other's hands, and then how many things we said by a soft pressure! it seems that the heart, that the very soul, pa.s.ses into the beloved hand which presses ours lovingly.

The ranks became thinner. My mother had gone, and Madame Dumeillan was only awaiting our departure to follow her example. It was five o'clock.

The daylight was beginning to show through the windows, and to lessen the brilliancy of the candles. The number of ladies diminished every moment. I went to Eugenie's side.

"I am tired of dancing," she said, "and yet I am afraid to refuse."

"Why, it seems to me that we might venture to go now."

She lowered her eyes and made no answer. I concluded that I had done enough for others and that I might think of myself at last. I took my wife's hand and led her from the room; Madame Dumeillan followed us; we entered a carriage and drove away. We had to take Madame Dumeillan home first. It was a short distance, but it seemed very long to me. The nearer one's happiness approaches, the more intense one's impatience becomes.

We spoke but little in the mother's presence. At last we reached her house, and I alighted. Madame Dumeillan embraced her daughter; it seemed to me that their embrace was interminable. Selfish creatures that we are! it did not occur to me that that was the last embrace in which a mother would hold her daughter, still a virgin, in her arms, and that I should have all the rest of my life to enjoy my privileges as a husband.

Madame Dumeillan entered her house. I returned to the carriage, and we drove on. At last I was alone with Eugenie, with my wife. I believe that that was the sweetest moment that I have ever known; it had seemed to me that it would never arrive. I put my arms about Eugenie; she wept when she embraced her mother; but I embraced her, and she ceased to weep, for I overwhelmed her with caresses, and unfamiliar sensations made her heart beat fast.

At last we reached my apartment, our apartment. The servant who was to live with us, and who had been in her mother's service, was waiting for us in the concierge's room, with a light; but it was broad day; we needed no service. My wife and I entered our home. I led her by the hand, I felt that she was trembling and I believe that I trembled too.

It is a strange effect of happiness that it suffocates one, that it almost makes one ill.

I closed the doors and shot the bolts. I was alone with my wife! At last there was no third person with us! We were at liberty to love each other, to tell each other of our love, and to prove it!

IX

THE HONEYMOON.--BeLAN'S WEDDING

How happiness makes the time fly! A fortnight after I became Eugenie's husband it seemed to both of us that we had been married only the day before. That fortnight had pa.s.sed so rapidly! It would be very difficult for me to say how we employed the time; we had no leisure to do anything. In the first place, we rose late, we breakfasted _tete-a-tete_, and then we talked; often I held Eugenie on my knees; people can understand each other better when they are close together.

We made a mult.i.tude of plans, our conversation being often interrupted by the kisses which I stole, or which she gave me. We were much surprised, when we glanced at the clock, to find that it was almost noon and that we had been talking for two hours. Then we had to think about dressing to go to see Madame Dumeillan, and sometimes to take a walk or drive. We continued to talk while we dressed. I would ask Eugenie to sing me a song, or to play something on the piano. If I chanced to have a visitor, or a client who kept me in my office fifteen minutes, when I came out I would find my wife already impatient at my long absence, and we would talk a few minutes more to make up to ourselves for the annoyance caused by my visitor. At last we would go out; but we always acted like school children and chose the longest way, so that it was almost dinner time when we reached my mother-in-law's. We had been to the theatre twice since we were married; we preferred that to going to parties. At the theatre we were still alone and could talk when the play was dull; but in society one is never free to do whatever one pleases.

We always returned home early, and we were always glad to get home. But, I say again, the time pa.s.sed like a flash.

My wife found my apartment much to her liking; she told me that it was a pleasure to her to live where I had lived as a bachelor. She often questioned me about that period of my life, and listened to my answers with interest and curiosity; but I did not tell her everything; I slurred over many episodes; for I had discovered that Eugenie was jealous. Her brow darkened when there were women in my adventures, and she often interrupted me, saying angrily:

"That's enough, hus.h.!.+ I don't want to know any more!"

Then I would kiss her and say:

"My dear love, I didn't know you then."

But, despite my caresses, her ill humor always lasted some minutes.

However, it was necessary that we should do something else than talk and embrace. Eugenie agreed to teach me to play on the piano, and I to give her lessons in painting. But first of all, I began her portrait. That was an occupation which took an endless time, for we were constantly distraught; when I looked at my model, and she fastened her lovely eyes upon me and smiled affectionately at me, how could I always resist the desire to kiss her? And she would pout so prettily when I failed to lay aside my brush for a long while! At that I would rise and rush to my model and embrace her. Such episodes led me to think that painters must be very self-restrained, to resist the temptations they must experience when they are painting the portrait of a young and pretty woman. A woman whom we are painting looks at us as we wish her to look; we request a very sweet glance and smile, and she exerts herself to make her expression as pleasing and amiable as possible; for a woman always desires her picture to be fascinating.

For my own part, I had never needed to resist my desires, for I had painted none but my mistresses; but when one must needs scrutinize in detail innumerable charms, and stand quietly by one's easel--ah! then, I repeat, one must be most virtuous, and that particular sort of virtue is not the characteristic quality of painters.

Despite our frequent distractions, I worked a.s.siduously at my wife's portrait; in ten sittings it was finished, and I was delighted with my work; the likeness was striking. Eugenie herself uttered a cry of surprise when she saw herself; but she feared that I had flattered her.

No; I had not painted her, to be sure, as she was in company, when she looked at everybody indifferently, but as she was when she looked at me while I was painting her, with eyes overflowing with love. It seemed to me that I had done wisely to select that expression; for it was for myself and not for others that I had painted her portrait.

Next, I must needs paint my own; Eugenie insisted upon it. That was a much less amusing task, and I feared that it would be a long one. I had already given myself several sittings, and it seemed to me that it did not progress satisfactorily. Eugenie was not satisfied; she said:

"You have given yourself a sulky, sober look; that isn't the way you look at me."

"My dear love, it is because it is a bore to me to look at myself."

"Oh! wait a moment, I have an idea. I will sit beside you; then, when you look in the gla.s.s, you will see me too, and I trust, monsieur, that you will not make faces at me."

Eugenie's idea impressed me as a charming one. Thanks to her invention, I was no longer bored when I sat for myself; for she was always there beside me, and when I looked in the mirror she was the first thing I saw; my portrait gained enormously thereby; I was able to paint myself as she wished, and she was as well pleased as I had been with hers.

I had her portrait set in a locket which I always wore; she had mine set in a bracelet which she always had on her arm. We were not content to have each other in reality, we must needs have each other's image as well; if we could have possessed each other in any other way, we would have done it. But is it a mistake to love too dearly? Her mother and mine both declared that we were unreasonable, that we were worse than lovers; but Eugenie and I were determined never to change; we liked each other well enough as we were.

My wife insisted that I should begin to learn the piano; and I showed her how to use a brush. Those lessons were most delicious to us; and they occupied a large part of the day. I realized however that piano playing and painting would not make me eminent at the bar. Since my marriage I had neglected the Palais, and paid almost no attention to business; but when I would propose to study, to shut myself up in my office, Eugenie would detain me, saying:

"What is the use of worrying yourself, of tiring your brain over your Code and your Pandects? Are we not rich enough? Are we not happy? What is the need of your trying cases, of your tormenting yourself for other people? Stay with me, give me a lesson in painting, and don't go to the Palais."

I could not resist my wife. My mother scolded me sometimes for what she called my laziness. Love is not laziness, but a happy love makes us unfit for anything except making love.

Three months pa.s.sed almost as rapidly as the first fortnight of our married life. But I had learned to play _On Dit qu'a Quinze Ans_ on the piano, and Eugenie was making rapid progress in painting. A new subject of rejoicing added to our happiness: my wife was enceinte. We leaped for joy, we danced about the room, thinking that we were to have a child. We talked of nothing else, we made no plans for the future in which our son or daughter had not a share. Good Madame Dumeillan shared our delight; my mother complimented me, but without enthusiasm, and as if it were a very trifling matter; whereas it seemed to me that it ought to mark an epoch in the world's history.

We went into society very rarely, and we had been to but two b.a.l.l.s since our wedding. But one morning we received cards and an invitation to the wedding party of Monsieur Ferdinand de Belan and Mademoiselle Armide de Beausire. Eugenie was not far enough advanced to fear that dancing would injure her; moreover, she promised to dance only a little; so we determined to go to Belan's wedding, where I had an idea that we should find something to laugh at. My wife agreed with me. Belan had been to see us twice since we were married, and Eugenie considered that he made himself rather ridiculous by his chatter and his affectations. As for the Beausire family, the little that I had seen of them seemed to me rather amusing.

The invitation included, upon a separate sheet, an intimation that we were expected to attend the breakfast also.