第 52 页

likewise moved, again kissed her, murmuring: "Dear Marie! How happy it

makes me to find you as beautiful and as affectionate as ever."

Pierre, who was looking at them, deemed them cold. He had doubtless

expected more tears, and a more passionate embrace on the part of an

affianced pair, whom so grievous an accident had separated almost on the

eve of their wedding. Moreover, his feelings were hurt by the

disproportion of their respective ages. No doubt his brother still seemed

to him very sturdy and young, and his feeling of repulsion must have come

from that young woman whom, most decidedly, he did not like. Ever since

her arrival he had experienced increasing discomfort, a keener and keener

desire to go off and never return.

So acute became his suffering at feeling like a stranger in his brother's

home, that he at last rose and sought to take his leave, under the

pretext that he had some urgent matters to attend to in town.

"What! you won't stay to _dejeuner_ with us!" exclaimed Guillaume in

perfect stupefaction. "Why, it was agreed! You surely won't distress me

like that! This house is your own, remember!"

Then, as with genuine affection they all protested and pressed him to

stay, he was obliged to do so. However, he soon relapsed into silence and

embarrassment, seated on the same chair as before, and listening moodily

to those people who, although they were his relatives, seemed to be far

removed from him.

As it was barely eleven o'clock they resumed work, but every now and

again there was some merry talk. On one of the servants coming for the

provisions, Marie told the girl to call her as soon as it should be time

to boil the eggs, for she prided herself on boiling them to a nicety, in

such wise as to leave the whites like creamy milk. This gave an

opportunity for a few jests from Francois, who occasionally teased her

about all the fine things she had learnt at the Lycee Fenelon, where her

father had placed her when she was twelve years old. However, she was not

afraid of him, but gave him tit for tat by chaffing him about all the

hours which he lost at the Ecole Normale over a mass of pedagogic trash.

"Ah! you big children!" she exclaimed, while still working at her

embroidery. "You are all very intelligent, and you all claim to have

broad minds, and yet--confess it now--it worries you a little that a girl

like me should have studied at college in the same way as yourselves.

It's a sexual quarrel, a question of rivalry and competition, isn't it?"

They protested the contrary, declaring that they were in favour of girls

receiving as complete an education as possible. She was well aware of

this; however, she liked to tease them in return for the manner in which

they themselves plagued her.

"But do you know," said she, "you are a great deal behind the times? I am

well aware of the reproaches which are levelled at girls' colleges by

so-called right-minded people. To begin, there is no religious element

whatever in the education one receives there, and this alarms many

families which consider religious education to be absolutely necessary

for girls, if only as a moral weapon of defence. Then, too, the education

at our Lycees is being democratised--girls of all positions come to them.

Thanks to the scholarships which are so liberally offered, the daughter

of the lady who rents a first floor flat often finds the daughter of her

door-keeper among her school-fellows, and some think this objectionable.

It is said also that the pupils free themselves too much from home

influence, and that too much opportunity is left for personal initiative.

As a matter of fact the extensiveness of the many courses of study, all

the learning that is required of pupils at the examinations, certainly

does tend to their emancipation, to the coming of the future woman and

future society, which you young men are all longing for, are you not?"

"Of course we are!" exclaimed Francois; "we all agree on that point."

She waved her hand in a pretty way, and then quietly continued: "I'm

jesting. My views are simple enough, as you well know, and I don't ask

for nearly as much as you do. As for woman's claims and rights, well, the

question is clear enough; woman is man's equal so far as nature allows

it. And the only point is to agree and love one another. At the same time

I'm well pleased to know what I do--oh! not from any spirit of pedantry

but simply because I think it has all done me good, and given me some

moral as well as physical health."

It delighted her to recall the days she had spent at the Lycee Fenelon,

which of the five State colleges for girls opened in Paris was the only

one counting a large number of pupils. Most of these were the daughters

of officials or professors, who purposed entering the teaching

profession. In this case, they had to win their last diploma at the Ecole

Normale of Sevres, after leaving the Lycee. Marie, for her part, though

her studies had been brilliant, had felt no taste whatever for the

calling of teacher. Moreover, when Guillaume had taken charge of her

after her father's death, he had refused to let her run about giving

lessons. To provide herself with a little money, for she would accept

none as a gift, she worked at embroidery, an art in which she was most

accomplished.

While she was talking to the young men Guillaume had listened to her

without interfering. If he had fallen in love with her it was largely on

account of her frankness and uprightness, the even balance of her nature,

which gave her so forcible a charm. She knew all; but if she lacked the

poetry of the shrinking, lamb-like girl who has been brought up in

ignorance, she had gained absolute rectitude of heart and mind, exempt

from all hypocrisy, all secret perversity such as is stimulated by what

may seem mysterious in life. And whatever she might know, she had

retained such child-like purity that in spite of her six-and-twenty

summers all the blood in her veins would occasionally rush to her cheeks

in fiery blushes, which drove her to despair.

"My dear Marie," Guillaume now exclaimed, "you know very well that the

youngsters were simply joking. You are in the right, of course.... And

your boiled eggs cannot be matched in the whole world."

He said this in so soft and affectionate a tone that the young woman

flushed purple. Then, becoming conscious of it, she coloured yet more

deeply, and as the three young men glanced at her maliciously she grew

angry with herself. "Isn't it ridiculous, Monsieur l'Abbe," she said,

turning towards Pierre, "for an old maid like myself to blush in that

fashion? People might think that I had committed a crime. It's simply to

make me blush, you know, that those children tease me. I do all I can to

prevent it, but it's stronger than my will."

At this Mere-Grand raised her eyes from the shirt she was mending, and

remarked: "Oh! it's natural enough, my dear. It is your heart rising to

your cheeks in order that we may see it."

The _dejeuner_ hour was now at hand; and they decided to lay the table in

the work-shop, as was occasionally done when they had a guest. The

simple, cordial meal proved very enjoyable in the bright sunlight.

Marie's boiled eggs, which she herself brought from the kitchen covered

with a napkin, were found delicious. Due honour was also done to the

butter and the radishes. The only dessert that followed the cutlets was

the cream cheese, but it was a cheese such as nobody else had ever

partaken of. And, meantime, while they ate and chatted all Paris lay

below them, stretching away to the horizon with its mighty rumbling.

Pierre had made an effort to become cheerful, but he soon relapsed into

silence. Guillaume, however, was very talkative. Having noticed the three

bicycles in the garden, he inquired of Marie how far she had gone that

morning. She answered that Francois and Antoine had accompanied her in

the direction of Orgemont. The worry of their excursions was that each

time they returned to Montmartre they had to push their machines up the

height. From the general point of view, however, the young woman was

delighted with bicycling, which had many virtues, said she. Then, seeing

Pierre glance at her in amazement, she promised that she would some day

explain her opinions on the subject to him. After this bicycling became

the one topic of conversation until the end of the meal. Thomas gave an

account of the latest improvements introduced into Grandidier's machines;

and the others talked of the excursions they had made or meant to make,

with all the exuberant delight of school children eager for the open air.

In the midst of the chatter, Mere-Grand, who presided at table with the

serene dignity of a queen-mother, leant towards Guillaume, who sat next

to her, and spoke to him in an undertone. Pierre understood that she was

referring to his marriage, which was to have taken place in April, but

must now necessarily be deferred. This sensible marriage, which seemed

likely to ensure the happiness of the entire household, was largely the

work of Mere-Grand and the three young men, for Guillaume would never

have yielded to his heart if she whom he proposed to make his wife had

not already been a well-loved member of the family. At the present time

the last week in June seemed, for all sorts of reasons, to be a

favourable date for the wedding.

Marie, who heard the suggestion, turned gaily towards Mere-Grand.

"The end of June will suit very well, will it not, my dear?" said the

latter.

Pierre expected to see a deep flush rise to the young woman's cheeks, but

she remained very calm. She felt deep affection, blended with the most

tender gratitude, for Guillaume, and was convinced that in marrying him

she would be acting wisely and well both for herself and the others.

"Certainly, the end of June," she repeated, "that will suit very well

indeed."

Then the sons, who likewise had heard the proposal, nodded their heads by

way of assenting also.

When they rose from table Pierre was absolutely determined to go off. The

cordial and simple meal, the sight of that family, which had been

rendered so happy by Guillaume's return, and of that young woman who

smiled so placidly at life, had brought him keen suffering, though why he

could not tell. However, it all irritated him beyond endurance; and he

therefore again pretended that he had a number of things to see to in

Paris. He shook hands in turn with the young men, Mere-Grand and Marie;

both of the women evincing great friendliness but also some surprise at

his haste to leave the house. Guillaume, who seemed saddened and anxious,

sought to detain him, and failing in this endeavour followed him into the

little garden, where he stopped him in order to have an explanation.

"Come," said he, "what is the matter with you, Pierre? Why are you

running off like this?"

"Oh! there's nothing the matter I assure you; but I have to attend to a

few urgent affairs."

"Oh, Pierre, pray put all pretence aside. Nobody here has displeased you

or hurt your feelings, I hope. They also will soon love you as I do."

"I have no doubt of it, and I complain of nobody excepting perhaps

myself."

Guillaume's sorrow was increasing. "Ah! brother, little brother," he

resumed, "you distress me, for I can detect that you are hiding something

from me. Remember that new ties have linked us together and that we love

one another as in the old days when you were in your cradle and I used to

come to play with you. I know you well, remember. I know all your

tortures, since you have confessed them to me; and I won't have you

suffer, I want to cure you, I do!"

Pierre's heart was full, and as he heard those words he could not

restrain his tears. "Oh! you must leave me to my sufferings," he

responded. "They are incurable. You can do nothing for me, I am beyond

the pale of nature, I am a monster."

"What do you say! Can you not return within nature's pale even if you

_have_ gone beyond it? One thing that I will not allow is that you should

go and shut yourself up in that solitary little house of yours, where you

madden yourself by brooding over the fall of your faith. Come and spend

your time with us, so that we may again give you some taste for life."

Ah! the empty little house which awaited him! Pierre shivered at the

thought of it, at the idea that he would now find himself all alone

there, bereft of the brother with whom he had lately spent so many happy

days. Into what solitude and torment must he not now relapse after that

companionship to which he had become accustomed? However, the very

thought of the latter increased his grief, and confession suddenly gushed

from his lips: "To spend my time here, live with you, oh! no, that is an

impossibility. Why do you compel me to speak out, and tell you things

that I am ashamed of and do not even understand. Ever since this morning

you must have seen that I have been suffering here. No doubt it is

because you and your people work, whereas I do nothing, because you love

one another and believe in your efforts, whereas I no longer know how to

love or believe. I feel out of my element. I'm embarrassed here, and I

embarrass you. In fact you all irritate me, and I might end by hating

you. There remains nothing healthy in me, all natural feelings have been

spoilt and destroyed, and only envy and hatred could sprout up from such

ruins. So let me go back to my accursed hole, where death will some day

come for me. Farewell, brother!"

But Guillaume, full of affection and compassion, caught hold of his arms

and detained him. "You shall not go, I will not allow you to go, without

a positive promise that you will come back. I don't wish to lose you

again, especially now that I know all you are worth and how dreadfully