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for my sake. If the article isn't inserted, Duvillard will think that it

is my fault. And you know that I really need his help. My eldest

daughter's marriage has again been postponed, and I hardly know where to

turn." Then perceiving that his own misfortunes in no wise touched

Fonsegue, he added: "And do it for your own sake, my dear colleague, your

own sake. For when all is said Duvillard knows what is in the article,

and it is precisely because it is so favourable a one that he wishes to

see it in the 'Globe.' Think it over; if the article isn't published, he

will certainly turn his back on you."

For a moment Fonsegue remained silent. Was he thinking of the colossal

Trans-Saharan enterprise? Was he reflecting that it would be hard to

quarrel at such a moment and miss his own share in the coming

distribution of millions among faithful friends? Perhaps so; however, the

idea that it would be more prudent to await developments gained the day

with him. "No, no," he said, "I can't, it's a matter of conscience."

In the mean time congratulations were still being tendered to the newly

wedded couple. It seemed as if all Paris were passing through the

sacristy; there were ever the same smiles and the same hand shakes.

Gerard, Camille and their relatives, however weary they might feel, were

forced to retain an air of delight while they stood there against the

wall, pent up by the crowd. The heat was now becoming unbearable, and a

cloud of dust arose as when some big flock goes by.

All at once little Princess de Harn, who had hitherto lingered nobody

knew where, sprang out of the throng, flung her arms around Camille,

kissed even Eve, and then kept Gerard's hand in her own while paying him

extraordinary compliments. Then, on perceiving Hyacinthe, she took

possession of him and carried him off into a corner. "I say," she

exclaimed, "I have a favour to ask you."

The young man was wonderfully silent that day. His sister's wedding

seemed to him a contemptible ceremony, the most vulgar that one could

imagine. So here, thought he, was another pair accepting the horrid

sexual law by which the absurdity of the world was perpetuated! For his

part, he had decided that he would witness the proceedings in rigid

silence, with a haughty air of disapproval. When Rosemonde spoke to him,

he looked at her rather nervously, for he was glad that she had forsaken

him for Duthil, and feared some fresh caprice on her part. At last,

opening his mouth for the first time that day, he replied: "Oh, as a

friend, you know, I will grant you whatever favour you like."

Forthwith the Princess explained that she would surely die if she did not

witness the _debut_ of her dear friend Silviane, of whom she had become

such a passionate admirer. So she begged the young man to prevail on his

father to give her a seat in his box, as she knew that one was left

there.

Hyacinthe smiled. "Oh, willingly, my dear," said he; "I'll warn papa,

there will be a seat for you."

Then, as the procession of guests at last drew to an end and the vestry

began to empty, the bridal pair and their relatives were able to go off

through the chattering throng, which still lingered about to bow to them

and scrutinise them once more.

Gerard and Camille were to leave for an estate which Duvillard possessed

in Normandy, directly after lunch. This repast, served at the princely

mansion of the Rue Godot-de-Mauroy, provided an opportunity for fresh

display. The dining-room on the first floor had been transformed into a

buffet, where reigned the greatest abundance and the most wonderful

sumptuousness. Quite a reception too was held in the drawing-rooms, the

large red _salon_, the little blue and silver _salon_ and all the others,

whose doors stood wide open. Although it had been arranged that only

family friends should be invited, there were quite three hundred people

present. The ministers had excused themselves, alleging that the weighty

cares of public business required their presence elsewhere. But the

magistrates, the deputies and the leading journalists who had attended

the wedding were again assembled together. And in that throng of hungry

folks, longing for some of the spoils of Duvillard's new venture, the

people who felt most out of their element were Madame de Quinsac's few

guests, whom General de Bozonnet and the Marquis de Morigny had seated on

a sofa in the large red _salon_, which they did not quit.

Eve, who for her part felt quite overcome, both her moral and physical

strength being exhausted, had seated herself in the little blue and

silver drawing-room, which, with her passion for flowers, she had

transformed into an arbour of roses. She would have fallen had she

remained standing, the very floor had seemed to sink beneath her feet.

Nevertheless, whenever a guest approached her she managed to force a

smile, and appear beautiful and charming. Unlooked-for help at last came

to her in the person of Monseigneur Martha, who had graciously honoured

the lunch with his presence. He took an armchair near her, and began to

talk to her in his amiable, caressing way. He was doubtless well aware of

the frightful anguish which wrung the poor woman's heart, for he showed

himself quite fatherly, eager to comfort her. She, however, talked on

like some inconsolable widow bent on renouncing the world for God, who

alone could bring her peace. Then, as the conversation turned on the

Asylum for the Invalids of Labour, she declared that she was resolved to

take her presidency very seriously, and, in fact, would exclusively

devote herself to it, in the future.

"And as we are speaking of this, Monseigneur," said she, "I would even

ask you to give me some advice.... I shall need somebody to help me,

and I thought of securing the services of a priest whom I much admire,

Monsieur l'Abbe Pierre Froment."

At this the Bishop became grave and embarrassed; but Princess Rosemonde,

who was passing by with Duthil, had overheard the Baroness, and drawing

near with her wonted impetuosity, she exclaimed: "Abbe Pierre Froment!

Oh! I forgot to tell you, my dear, that I met him going about in jacket

and trousers! And I've been told too that he cycles in the Bois with some

creature or other. Isn't it true, Duthil, that we met him?"

The deputy bowed and smiled, whilst Eve clasped her hands in amazement.

"Is it possible! A priest who was all charitable fervour, who had the

faith and passion of an apostle!"

Thereupon Monseigneur intervened: "Yes, yes, great sorrows occasionally

fall upon the Church. I heard of the madness of the unhappy man you speak

of. I even thought it my duty to write to him, but he left my letter

unanswered. I should so much have liked to stifle such a scandal! But

there are abominable forces which we cannot always overcome; and so a day

or two ago the archbishop was obliged to put him under interdict....

You must choose somebody else, madame."

It was quite a disaster. Eve gazed at Rosemonde and Duthil, without

daring to ask them for particulars, but wondering what creature could

have been so audacious as to turn a priest from the path of duty. She

must assuredly be some shameless demented woman! And it seemed to Eve as

if this crime gave a finishing touch to her own misfortune. With a wave

of the arm, which took in all the luxury around her, the roses steeping

her in perfume, and the crush of guests around the buffet, she murmured:

"Ah! decidedly there's nothing but corruption left; one can no longer

rely on anybody!"

Whilst this was going on, Camille happened to be alone in her own room

getting ready to leave the house with Gerard. And all at once her brother

Hyacinthe joined her there. "Ah! it's you, youngster!" she exclaimed.

"Well, make haste if you want to kiss me, for I'm off now, thank

goodness!"

He kissed her as she suggested, and then in a doctoral way replied: "I

thought you had more self-command. The delight you have been showing all

this morning quite disgusts me."

A quiet glance of contempt was her only answer. However, he continued:

"You know very well that she'll take your Gerard from you again, directly

you come back to Paris."

At this Camille's cheeks turned white and her eyes flared. She stepped

towards her brother with clenched fists: "She! you say that she will take

him from me!"

The "she" they referred to was their own mother.

"Listen, my boy! I'll kill her first!" continued Camille. "Ah, no! she

needn't hope for that. I shall know how to keep the man that belongs to

me.... And as for you, keep your spite to yourself, for I know you,

remember; you are a mere child and a fool!"

He recoiled as if a viper were rearing its sharp, slender black head

before him; and having always feared her, he thought it best to beat a

retreat.

While the last guests were rushing upon the buffet and finishing the

pillage there, the bridal pair took their leave, before driving off to

the railway station. General de Bozonnet had joined a group in order to

vent his usual complaints about compulsory military service, and the

Marquis de Morigny was obliged to fetch him at the moment when the

Countess de Quinsac was kissing her son and daughter-in-law. The old lady

trembled with so much emotion that the Marquis respectfully ventured to

sustain her. Meantime, Hyacinthe had started in search of his father, and

at last found him near a window with the tottering Chaigneux, whom he was

violently upbraiding, for Fonsegue's conscientious scruples had put him

in a fury. Indeed, if Massot's article should not be inserted in the

"Globe," Silviane might lay all the blame upon him, the Baron, and wreak

further punishment upon him. However, upon being summoned by his son he

had to don his triumphal air once more, kiss his daughter on the

forehead, shake hands with his son-in-law, jest and wish them both a

pleasant journey. Then Eve, near whom Monseigneur Martha had remained,

smiling, in her turn had to say farewell. In this she evinced touching

bravery; her determination to remain beautiful and charming until the

very end lent her sufficient strength to show herself both gay and

motherly.

She took hold of the slightly quivering hand which Gerard proffered with

some embarrassment, and ventured to retain it for a moment in her own, in

a good-hearted, affectionate way, instinct with all the heroism of

renunciation. "Good by, Gerard," she said, "keep in good health, be

happy." Then turning to Camille she kissed her on both cheeks, while

Monseigneur Martha sat looking at them with an air of indulgent sympathy.

They wished each other "Au revoir," but their voices trembled, and their

eyes in meeting gleamed like swords; in the same way as beneath the

kisses they had exchanged they had felt each other's teeth. Ah! how it

enraged Camille to see her mother still so beautiful and fascinating in

spite of age and grief! And for Eve how great the torture of beholding

her daughter's youth, that youth which had overcome her, and was for ever

wresting love from within her reach! No forgiveness was possible between

them; they would still hate one another even in the family tomb, where

some day they would sleep side by side.

All the same, that evening Baroness Duvillard excused herself from

attending the performance of "Polyeucte" at the Comedie Francaise. She

felt very tired and wished to go to bed early, said she. As a matter of

fact she wept on her pillow all night long. Thus the Baron's stage-box on

the first balcony tier contained only himself, Hyacinthe, Duthil, and

little Princess de Harn.

At nine o'clock there was a full house, one of the brilliant chattering

houses peculiar to great dramatic solemnities. All the society people who

had marched through the sacristy of the Madeleine that morning were now

assembled at the theatre, again feverish with curiosity, and on the

lookout for the unexpected. One recognised the same faces and the sane

smiles; the women acknowledged one another's presence with little signs

of intelligence, the men understood each other at a word, a gesture. One

and all had kept the appointment, the ladies with bared shoulders, the

gentlemen with flowers in their button-holes. Fonsegue occupied the

"Globe's" box, with two friendly families. Little Massot had his

customary seat in the stalls. Amadieu, who was a faithful patron of the

Comedie, was also to be seen there, as well as General de Bozonnet and

Public Prosecutor Lehmann. The man who was most looked at, however, on

account of his scandalous article that morning, was Sagnier, the terrible

Sagnier, looking bloated and apoplectical. Then there was Chaigneux, who

had kept merely a modest bracket-seat for himself, and who scoured the

passages, and climbed to every tier, for the last time preaching

enthusiasm. Finally, the two ministers Monferrand and Dauvergne appeared

in the box facing Duvillard's; whereupon many knowing smiles were

exchanged, for everybody was aware that these personages had come to help

on the success of the _debutante_.

On the latter point there had still been unfavourable rumours only the

previous day. Sagnier had declared that the _debut_ of such a notorious

harlot as Silviane at the Comedie Francaise, in such a part too as that

of "Pauline," which was one of so much moral loftiness, could only be

regarded as an impudent insult to public decency. The whole press,

moreover, had long been up in arms against the young woman's

extraordinary caprice. But then the affair had been talked of for six

months past, so that Paris had grown used to the idea of seeing Silviane

at the Comedie. And now it flocked thither with the one idea of being

entertained. Before the curtain rose one could tell by the very

atmosphere of the house that the audience was a jovial, good-humoured