Volume 14 / Part 2 — XIV THE PATH

“Well, monsieur,” said Thélénie to her husband, as he entered her chamber, “I gave you several commissions two or three days ago; I asked you to find out who that small boy was who threw stones at me, and who was the owner of an enormous dog that jumped at me; what have you found out?”

Chamoureau began by looking at himself in a mirror which happened to be in front of him—a habit common to many people, who, while they are talking to you, do not cease to ogle themselves; and those who do it are not the most comely!

“My dear love,” replied Chamoureau, after smiling at his image, “as for the small boy, I know nothing as yet. The peasants are not always inclined to give you information when you question them; they imagine that you’re making fun of them.—As for the dog, that’s a different matter; I haven’t found him yet—those that I’ve seen don’t correspond with the description you gave me.”

“I might have known that you wouldn’t be capable of discovering anything. Luckily, my friend the baron is here; I will place the matter in his hands, and he will be more skilful than you.”

“I don’t know whether Monsieur de Schtapelmerg will be more skilful than I—in fact, I doubt it. Still, it’s no wonder that I am preoccupied,—I have such an interesting question in my head.”

“For heaven’s sake, what have you in your head, monsieur?”

“The age of trees, madame, the age of trees, which I mean to succeed in determining exactly.”

“What good will it do, monsieur? what’s the use of knowing the exact age of a tree?”

“Why, madame, it will be a wonderful discovery, of the very greatest utility—for wood-choppers and dealers in wood! To be able to say the instant you see a tree: ‘It is so old—it was born under such a reign;’—why, it will be magnificent! and I shall succeed in doing it!—Ah! here’s our dear friend the Baron von Schtapelmerg.”

Croque entered the room; he was pale and haggard, and he did not walk with his usual swagger. He nodded to the husband and wife.

“Good-morning, noble baron,” said Chamoureau, offering him his hand. “You’re not ill, are you? You have rather a tired look this morning.”

“I slept badly; it doesn’t amount to anything; it will disappear after a few puffs of smoke.”

“What a fellow! he prefers a pipe to a cigar!”

“We old soldiers are used to a pipe.”

“Have you served, baron?”

“Yes, I made the campaign of—of—the war against the Turks.”

“Ah! you have fought against the Turks; no doubt that was when you received that wound on the left cheek, which left you that noble scar?”

“Exactly; it was a lance thrust.”

“Do the Turks fight with lances?”

“Always—unless they use some other weapon.”

“Give me your arm, baron,” said Thélénie, “and let us go for a walk while monsieur reflects concerning the age of trees.”

“I am at your service, belle dame.”

“What is there new?” inquired Thélénie, when she and Croque had left the room. “Your appearance is quite agitated.”

“Sacredié! there’s reason enough! I had a scare last night, and I’m all of a tremble still.”

“What was the cause of this scare?”

“About ten o’clock I walked in the direction of our ladies’ house. I wanted to examine the locality, take a look at the walls, in short, find out where there was a good chance to get inside; because, of course, I don’t expect to fascinate the girl—I’m not good-looking enough, I do myself justice; if I want to arrive at my end, I’ve got to do it by surprise—by force.”

“Well—what then? what then?”

“I was prowling round the garden wall, and before long I heard a dog growling. I didn’t pay any attention to it at first, but as I was running my hands over a place where the wall is rather rickety, the barking got louder and fiercer; I discovered that the dog was close to me, that there was nothing but the wall between us. They called him from the house and tried to quiet him; time thrown away. I says to myself: ‘That’s a dangerous beast; let’s stand off shore!’—So I turned tail. In another minute what did I have at my heels but the infernal dog, who had leaped the wall, no doubt, and started after me. Fear gave me wings; I flew—and so did the damned dog! However, he only succeeded in getting hold of the tail of my coat, and it remained in his jaws; I managed to escape. But, bigre! it was high time! Look, see this big piece gone out of my coat—the cloth was very stout and new, so the beast must have pulled hard.”

“Upon my word! I didn’t expect to hear anything like this; I thought you were brave and strong, one of those men, in short, whom nothing terrifies, who recoil before no danger! And here you are all upset and cowed because a dog ran after you! You make me blush! Didn’t you have your cane to beat the dog off with?”

“Oh! my girl! one minute! let’s not put on airs; let’s not act as if we wanted to make Bibi angry!—To be sure, I am bold; with men I don’t retreat, and I am not afraid; but with a dog—that’s another matter!—Besides, I have a good reason to be afraid of them; didn’t I come near being strangled by Monsieur Duronceray’s dog? Didn’t he make this wound on my face, that I’ve still got the scar of? And it’s deep, too! I don’t know why, but it seemed to me last night as if it was that same dog that chased me.”

“What nonsense! he must be dead long ago!”

“Why dead? he was very young then—not more than a year and a half; so he’d be ten or eleven now; dogs live much longer than that.”

“Well, after what you have told me, I see that it’s of no use to rely on you to undertake anything against the girl.”

“If those women always have that dog to guard them, it will be rather hard.”

“They have no dog in the house; their gardener, whom I took care to employ a few days ago, told me so. It was a mere chance that there was one in their house last night.—But this young man coming this way—it is Edmond! At last I have an opportunity to speak to him. Leave me, Croque—go away.”

“All right; I will join your estimable husband and breakfast with him.”

“Be careful not to get tipsy as you did the other day; for, when you do, you entirely forget your rôle.”

“Don’t worry, belle dame, I will retain my self-respect.”

Edmond was walking slowly along the road; he was thinking of Agathe, whose husband he ardently desired to be; but he was thinking also of the future.

On his last trip to Paris, he had made up his accounts and tried to bring some semblance of order out of the chaos of his affairs; he had paid all his creditors and had found that he possessed only sixteen thousand francs. With that amount a tradesman may start in business on a small scale; but that was not the lot in life which Edmond desired to offer to Agathe.

“To have a pleasant voice and be able to sing decently—that isn’t enough to marry on,” he was saying to himself; “I should have done better to think of getting rich.”

Absorbed in his thoughts as he was, the young man had not seen Thélénie, who was close beside him when he raised his eyes. He started back as if to retrace his steps; but it was too late, the young woman with the great black eyes had already taken his arm, saying:

“What! you propose to turn back because you find me here? Am I so very odious to you then? Does the sight of me produce such an intensely disagreeable effect on you?”

“Not at all, madame; but it occurred to me that we had nothing to say to each other, and in that case——”

“You are mistaken, monsieur—I have many things to say to you; I am not like you! Oh! don’t be alarmed; look in all directions—we are alone, quite alone; no one will see you talking with me, and your mistress will not make a scene!”

“I have no mistress, madame; I love an honorable, virtuous young lady, and I expect to make her my wife when I am in a position to assure her a happy and tranquil future at least, if not a brilliant one. So you see that there is no question of a mistress.”

Thélénie seemed to reflect for a few moments; then she replied, assuming an air of good-fellowship:

“Oh! that makes a difference; in that case, forgive me, Edmond; people have spoken about these ladies to me in rather a sneering way; I know that the world is very cruel, that slander is its sweetest recreation. But if you propose to marry this young lady, I have no doubt that she deserves all your love; and I will not venture to criticise your choice.”

This was said with an air of sincerity which instantly changed Edmond’s sentiments; his expression became trustful once more, and he offered his hand to Thélénie.

“Good!” he said; “I like to hear you talk so; I have never been willing to believe, myself, in the spitefulness of women; I am not like Freluchon, who always thinks that he is being deceived.”

“Oh! but Freluchon always deserves to be.”

“Then you are no longer angry with me?”

“Angry with you? of course not. Why should I bear you a grudge? our liaison came to an end, because everything must come to an end. Besides, I am married; I have married thirty thousand francs a year; do you suppose that I am not content with my lot?”

“I am overjoyed to find you like this.”

“Frankly, you must have a large supply of self-esteem, to think that you would find me otherwise, and that I still sighed for you!”

“I did not think that; but you made so many threats——”

“Ha! ha! ha! I thought that you were better acquainted with the human heart. But you are reassured now, aren’t you? You are no longer afraid of my stabbing you?”

“It never went so far as that!”

“You will no longer avoid me as soon as you see me?”

“Of course not!”

“Because one is no longer a lover is no reason for not being a friend, is it? I have always thought not. You will come to see me; I insist upon it; otherwise I shall think that you still hate me.”

“I do not go into society here; I go only to Madame Dalmont’s.”

“But we are not new acquaintances; was not my husband your friend? If you should refuse to come to see us, it might suggest strange ideas to him, knowing—and he does know it—that you are living in this neighborhood.”

“I thought that Chamoureau had no ideas that were not agreeable to you.”

“Mon Dieu! that man loves me; it is his greatest pleasure to gratify my wishes; don’t charge that to him as a crime! And because a woman has led rather an agitated life, do you suppose that when she is once married, she can’t behave herself and make her husband happy?”

“I think that one can always behave oneself when one has firmly determined to do so, and that it is never too late to atone for one’s errors.”

“Ah! it’s very lucky that you are willing to admit that. When will you dine with us?”

“I tell you again, I don’t go into society; I give all my time to the person to whom I am paying court; that is natural certainly.”

“I fancy that she does not demand that you should break with all your acquaintances.”

“She demands nothing; in this matter I simply follow my own inclinations; but I will call to see you—I promise.”

“I told my husband to write to Freluchon. I am going to give very soon a grand dinner party and ball; I propose to dazzle all the good people of this region, which, by the way, is not very difficult. I love to believe that Monsieur Freluchon will be one of us; I shall have also a few devotees of lansquenet and baccarat—fine players. They will come from Paris, by the way; for here they don’t play to lose or win more than fifteen sous!—it’s pitiful! I, you know, have always liked to play for high stakes, and thank heaven! I am able now to gratify all my tastes. Adieu, monsieur l’amoureux, monsieur l’ermite. I shall send you an invitation to my ball, and if you will condescend to spare us an hour, we shall be most grateful.”

And Thélénie, with a friendly nod to Edmond, walked away.

“Decidedly, I was foolish to be alarmed,” he said to himself, as he bent his steps toward Agathe’s abode; “Thélénie no longer thinks of me; she is rich, she has reached the position to which she aspired—what more can she want?—Besides, do such women ever know real love? She thinks of nothing but making a sensation and playing the grande dame. She kept her eyes fixed on Agathe a long while; but that was because she did not expect to find such perfect beauty here. That she may have felt some vexation, I can understand. Thélénie is not accustomed to having anyone dispute the sceptre of beauty with her; and I’ll wager that that was her only reason for not including those two ladies among her guests. She doesn’t propose to have a woman at her parties who is prettier than herself.”

On her side Madame de Belleville went away from the interview well pleased with herself, and thinking that she would attain her object much more surely by banishing all suspicion from Edmond’s mind.

She had taken a path that skirted a thinly settled part of the village, to shorten the distance to her house. This path was quite narrow and lined with wild blackberry bushes. A small boy was busily engaged looking for blackberries where the bushes were densest, heedless of the risk of tearing his clothes, which were already in a wretched state. When he caught sight of Thélénie, he cried:

“Aha! she ain’t on horseback to-day! that woman won’t ride me down again!”

Thélénie heard these words and recognized the urchin to whom she had administered divers blows with her crop. She stopped in front of him, gazing at him with a stern expression; but little Emile sustained her glance without lowering his eyes for an instant.

“Ah! it’s you, is it, little good-for-nothing! Are you going to throw stones at me to-day?”

“I say! you ain’t on horseback!”

“And if I were, would you throw stones at my horse again, to frighten him and make him rear? You would have been very glad if I had fallen, wouldn’t you?”

“It would have made me laugh.”

“What a little rascal! What is your name?”

“I dunno.”

“You don’t know your name?”

“I won’t tell you.”

“And your parents—what are their names? what is their business? where do they live?”

“Catch me telling you, so you can go and complain and get me a scolding! I ain’t such a fool!”

Thélénie examined the little fellow and could not help admiring the beauty of his eyes, whose bold and mocking expression gave strong indications of an extremely self-willed nature.

“You won’t tell me your name?”

“I ain’t got any.”

“And the dog that came to your assistance the other day—he is yours, of course?”

“No, he ain’t mine.”

“But you know him, don’t you?”

“Oh! I guess I do.”

“Whom does he belong to?”

“To the man that owns the Tower.”

“Who is the man that owns the Tower?”

“Why, he’s the bear, as they call him round here; but for all that he ain’t so ugly as folks thought, the bear ain’t, for he bought Guillot’s house and gave him money too. Would you do that?”

“I don’t know what you mean.—Is the dog with you often? does he know you—as he came to your defence?”

“Oh! he don’t like me much; it wasn’t me that he wanted to help; he wanted to bite you!”

“Oho! do you think so? Then I must find out why the beast should show so much bad feeling against me. You say his master lives at the Tower? Where is that?”

“A fine big place over on the other side of the Marne, near Gournay. I say! there’s a great old park there—bigger’n yours.”

“Really! I must see that; and the owner of the dog is probably that boor whom no one about here will receive except Madame Dalmont.”

“Ah! she’s a kind lady, she is! she gives me cherries and sous; she wouldn’t beat me with her whip—I’ve still got the marks of it!”

“If you had been beaten more, you wouldn’t be such a little vagabond. But I’ll find out your name and your parents’ in spite of you.”

“You’ll be smarter’n other folks then! Good-day, madame!”

The little boy ran away with a mocking expression and Thélénie walked on, saying to herself:

“How can it be that a peasant’s child has such lovely eyes?”