第 34 页

are answering you, as if from the everlasting dungeon into which his love

of liberty has thrown him!"

However, Guillaume had already regained possession of himself, and coming

back in a transport of his faith, he once more took Pierre in his loving,

saving arms, like an elder brother who gives himself without restraint.

"No, no, I'm wrong, I'm blaspheming," he exclaimed; "I wish you to be

with me, full of hope and full of certainty. You must work, you must

love, you must revive to life. Life alone can give you back peace and

health."

Tears returned to the eyes of Pierre, who was penetrated to the heart by

this ardent affection. "Ah! how I should like to believe you," he

faltered, "and try to cure myself. True, I have already felt, as it were,

a vague revival within me. And yet to live again, no, I cannot; the

priest that I am is dead--a lifeless, an empty tomb."

He was shaken by so frightful a sob, that Guillaume could not restrain

his own tears. And clasped in one another's arms the brothers wept on,

their hearts full of the softest emotion in that home of their youth,

whither the dear shadows of their parents ever returned, hovering around

until they should be reconciled and restored to the peace of the earth.

And all the darkness and mildness of the garden streamed in through the

open window, while yonder, on the horizon, Paris had fallen asleep in the

mysterious gloom, beneath a very peaceful sky which was studded with

stars.

BOOK III.

I. THE RIVALS

ON the Wednesday preceding the mid-Lent Thursday, a great charity bazaar

was held at the Duvillard mansion, for the benefit of the Asylum of the

Invalids of Labour. The ground-floor reception rooms, three spacious

Louis Seize _salons_, whose windows overlooked the bare and solemn

courtyard, were given up to the swarm of purchasers, five thousand

admission cards having been distributed among all sections of Parisian

society. And the opening of the bombarded mansion in this wise to

thousands of visitors was regarded as quite an event, a real

manifestation, although some people whispered that the Rue

Godot-de-Mauroy and the adjacent streets were guarded by quite an army of

police agents.

The idea of the bazaar had come from Duvillard himself, and at his

bidding his wife had resigned herself to all this worry for the benefit

of the enterprise over which she presided with such distinguished

nonchalance. On the previous day the "Globe" newspaper, inspired by its

director Fonsegue, who was also the general manager of the asylum, had

published a very fine article, announcing the bazaar, and pointing out

how noble, and touching, and generous was the initiative of the Baroness,

who still gave her time, her money, and even her home to charity, in

spite of the abominable crime which had almost reduced that home to

ashes. Was not this the magnanimous answer of the spheres above to the

hateful passions of the spheres below? And was it not also a peremptory

answer to those who accused the capitalists of doing nothing for the

wage-earners, the disabled and broken-down sons of toil?

The drawing-room doors were to be opened at two o'clock, and would only

close at seven, so that there would be five full hours for the sales. And

at noon, when nothing was as yet ready downstairs, when workmen and women

were still decorating the stalls, and sorting the goods amidst a final

scramble, there was, as usual, a little friendly _dejeuner_, to which a

few guests had been invited, in the private rooms on the first floor.

However, a scarcely expected incident had given a finishing touch to the

general excitement of the house: that very morning Sagnier had resumed

his campaign of denunciation in the matter of the African Railway Lines.

In a virulent article in the "Voix du Peuple," he had inquired if it were

the intention of the authorities to beguile the public much longer with

the story of that bomb and that Anarchist whom the police did not arrest.

And this time, while undertaking to publish the names of the thirty-two

corrupt senators and deputies in a very early issue, he had boldly named

Minister Barroux as one who had pocketed a sum of 200,000 francs. Mege

would therefore certainly revive his interpellation, which might become

dangerous, now that Paris had been thrown into such a distracted state by

terror of the Anarchists. At the same time it was said that Vignon and

his party had resolved to turn circumstances to account, with the object

of overthrowing the ministry. Thus a redoubtable crisis was inevitably at

hand. Fortunately, the Chamber did not meet that Wednesday; in fact, it

had adjourned until the Friday, with the view of making mid-Lent a

holiday. And so forty-eight hours were left one to prepare for the

onslaught.

Eve, that morning, seemed more gentle and languid than ever, rather pale

too, with an expression of sorrowful anxiety in the depths of her

beautiful eyes. She set it all down to the very great fatigue which the

preparations for the bazaar had entailed on her. But the truth was that

Gerard de Quinsac, after shunning any further assignation, had for five

days past avoided her in an embarrassed way. Still she was convinced that

she would see him that morning, and so she had again ventured to wear the

white silk gown which made her look so much younger than she really was.

At the same time, beautiful as she had remained, with her delicate skin,

superb figure and noble and charming countenance, her six and forty years

were asserting themselves in her blotchy complexion and the little

creases which were appearing about her lips, eyelids and temples.

Camille, for her part, though her position as daughter of the house made

it certain that she would attract much custom as a saleswoman, had

obstinately persisted in wearing one of her usual dresses, a dark

"carmelite" gown, an old woman's frock, as she herself called it with a

cutting laugh. However, her long and wicked-looking face beamed with some

secret delight; such an expression of wit and intelligence wreathing her

thin lips and shining in her big eyes that one lost sight of her

deformity and thought her almost pretty.

Eve experienced a first deception in the little blue and silver

sitting-room, where, accompanied by her daughter, she awaited the arrival

of her guests. General de Bozonnet, whom Gerard was to have brought with

him, came in alone, explaining that Madame de Quinsac had felt rather

poorly that morning, and that Gerard, like a good and dutiful son, had

wished to remain with her. Still he would come to the bazaar directly

after _dejeuner_. While the Baroness listened to the General, striving to

hide her disappointment and her fear that she would now be unable to

obtain any explanation from Gerard that day, Camille looked at her with

eager, devouring eyes. And a certain covert instinct of the misfortune

threatening her must at that moment have come to Eve, for in her turn she

glanced at her daughter and turned pale as if with anxiety.

Then Princess Rosemonde de Harn swept in like a whirlwind. She also was

to be one of the saleswomen at the stall chosen by the Baroness, who

liked her for her very turbulence, the sudden gaiety which she generally

brought with her. Gowned in fire-hued satin (red shot with yellow),

looking very eccentric with her curly hair and thin boyish figure, she

laughed and talked of an accident by which her carriage had almost been

cut in halves. Then, as Baron Duvillard and Hyacinthe came in from their

rooms, late as usual, she took possession of the young man and scolded

him, for on the previous evening she had vainly waited for him till ten

o'clock in the expectation that he would keep his promise to escort her

to a tavern at Montmartre, where some horrible things were said to occur.

Hyacinthe, looking very bored, quietly replied that he had been detained

at a seance given by some adepts in the New Magic, in the course of which

the soul of St. Theresa had descended from heaven to recite a love

sonnet.

However, Fonsegue was now coming in with his wife, a tall, thin, silent

and generally insignificant woman, whom he seldom took about with him. On

this occasion he had been obliged to bring her, as she was one of the

lady-patronesses of the asylum, and he himself was coming to lunch with

the Duvillards in his capacity as general manager. To the superficial

observer he looked quite as gay as usual; but he blinked nervously, and

his first glance was a questioning one in the direction of Duvillard, as

if he wished to know how the latter bore the fresh thrust directed at him

by Sagnier. And when he saw the banker looking perfectly composed, as

superb, as rubicund as usual, and chatting in a bantering way with

Rosemonde, he also put on an easy air, like a gamester who had never lost

but had always known how to compel good luck, even in hours of treachery.

And by way of showing his unconstraint of mind he at once addressed the

Baroness on managerial matters: "Have you now succeeded in seeing M.

l'Abbe Froment for the affair of that old man Laveuve, whom he so warmly

recommended to us? All the formalities have been gone through, you know,

and he can be brought to us at once, as we have had a bed vacant for

three days past."

"Yes, I know," replied Eve; "but I can't imagine what has become of Abbe

Froment, for he hasn't given us a sign of life for a month past. However,

I made up my mind to write to him yesterday, and beg him to come to the

bazaar to-day. In this manner I shall be able to acquaint him with the

good news myself."

"It was to leave you the pleasure of doing so," said Fonsegue, "that I

refrained from sending him any official communication. He's a charming

priest, is he not?"

"Oh! charming, we are very fond of him."

However, Duvillard now intervened to say that they need not wait for

Duthil, as he had received a telegram from him stating that he was

detained by sudden business. At this Fonsegue's anxiety returned, and he

once more questioned the Baron with his eyes. Duvillard smiled, however,

and reassured him in an undertone: "It's nothing serious. Merely a

commission for me, about which he'll only be able to bring me an answer

by-and-by." Then, taking Fonsegue on one side, he added: "By the way,

don't forget to insert the paragraph I told you of."

"What paragraph? Oh! yes, the one about that _soiree_ at which Silviane

recited a piece of verse. Well, I wanted to speak to you about it. It

worries me a little, on account of the excessive praise it contains."

Duvillard, but a moment before so full of serenity, with his lofty,

conquering, disdainful mien, now suddenly became pale and agitated. "But

I absolutely want it to be inserted, my dear fellow! You would place me

in the greatest embarrassment if it were not to appear, for I promised

Silviane that it should."

As he spoke his lips trembled, and a scared look came into his eyes,

plainly revealing his dismay.

"All right, all right," said Fonsegue, secretly amused, and well pleased

at this complicity. "As it's so serious the paragraph shall go in, I

promise you."

The whole company was now present, since neither Gerard nor Duthil was to

be expected. So they went into the dining-room amidst a final noise of

hammering in the sale-rooms below. The meal proved somewhat of a

scramble, and was on three occasions disturbed by female attendants, who

came to explain difficulties and ask for orders. Doors were constantly

slamming, and the very walls seemed to shake with the unusual bustle

which filled the house. And feverish as they all were in the dining-room,

they talked in desultory, haphazard fashion on all sorts of subjects,

passing from a ball given at the Ministry of the Interior on the previous

night, to the popular mid-Lent festival which would take place on the

morrow, and ever reverting to the bazaar, the prices that had been given

for the goods which would be on sale, the prices at which they might be

sold, and the probable figure of the full receipts, all this being

interspersed with strange anecdotes, witticisms and bursts of laughter.

On the General mentioning magistrate Amadieu, Eve declared that she no

longer dared to invite him to _dejeuner_, knowing how busy he was at the

Palace of Justice. Still, she certainly hoped that he would come to the

bazaar and contribute something. Then Fonsegue amused himself with

teasing Princess Rosemonde about her fire-hued gown, in which, said he,

she must already feel roasted by the flames of hell; a suggestion which

secretly delighted her, as Satanism had now become her momentary passion.

Meantime, Duvillard lavished the most gallant politeness on that silent

creature, Madame Fonsegue, while Hyacinthe, in order to astonish even the

Princess, explained in a few words how the New Magic could transform a

chaste young man into a real angel. And Camille, who seemed very happy

and very excited, from time to time darted a hot glance at her mother,

whose anxiety and sadness increased as she found the other more and more

aggressive, and apparently resolved upon open and merciless warfare.

At last, just as the dessert was coming to an end, the Baroness heard her

daughter exclaim in a piercing, defiant voice: "Oh! don't talk to me of

the old ladies who still seem to be playing with dolls, and paint

themselves, and dress as if they were about to be confirmed! All such

ogresses ought to retire from the scene! I hold them in horror!"

At this, Eve nervously rose from her seat, and exclaimed apologetically:

"You must forgive me for hurrying you like this. But I'm afraid that we

shan't have time to drink our coffee in peace."

The coffee was served in the little blue and silver sitting-room, where

bloomed some lovely yellow roses, testifying to the Baroness's keen

passion for flowers, which made the house an abode of perpetual spring.

Duvillard and Fonsegue, however, carrying their cups of steaming coffee