'Whenever you like.'
She took his arm and they passed through the almost deserted rooms.
Madeleine asked: 'Where is Mme. Walter; I should like to bid her good-bye.'
'It is unnecessary. She would try to keep us in the ballroom, and I have had enough.'
'You are right.'
On the way home they did not speak. But when they had entered their room, Madeleine, without even taking off her veil, said to him with a smile: 'I have a surprise for you.'
He growled ill-naturedly: 'What is it?'
'Guess.'
'I cannot make the effort.'
'The day after to-morrow is the first of January.'
'Yes.'
'It is the season for New Year's gifts.'
'Yes.'
'Here is yours, which Laroche handed me just now.' She gave him a small black box which resembled a jewel-casket.
He opened it indifferently and saw the cross of the Legion of Honor. He turned a trifle pale, then smiled, and said: 'I should have preferred ten millions. That did not cost him much.'
She had expected a transport of delight and was irritated by his indifference.
'You are incomprehensible. Nothing seems to satisfy you.'
He replied calmly: 'That man is only paying his debts; he owes me a great deal more.'
She was astonished at his tone, and said: 'It is very nice, however, at your age.'
He replied: 'I should have much more.'
He took the casket, placed it on the mantelpiece, and looked for some minutes at the brilliant star within it, then he closed it with a shrug of his shoulders and began to prepare to retire.
'L'Officiel' of January 1 announced that M. Prosper Georges du Roy had been decorated with the Legion of Honor for exceptional services. The name was written in two words, and that afforded Georges more pleasure than the decoration itself.
An hour after having read that notice, he received a note from Mme. Walter, inviting him to come and bring his wife to dine with them that evening, to celebrate his distinction.
At first he hesitated, then throwing the letter in the fire, he said to Madeleine: 'We shall dine at the Walters' this evening.'
In her surprise she exclaimed: 'Why, I thought you would never set your foot in their house again.'
His sole reply was: 'I have changed my mind.'
When they arrived at Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore, they found Mme. Walter alone in the dainty boudoir in which she received her intimate friends. She was dressed in black and her hair was powdered. At a distance she appeared like an old lady, in proximity, like a youthful one.
'Are you in mourning?' asked, Madeleine.
She replied sadly: 'Yes and no. I have lost none of my relatives, but I have arrived at an age when one should wear somber colors. I wear it to-day to inaugurate it; hitherto I have worn it in my heart.'
The dinner was somewhat tedious. Suzanne alone talked incessantly. Rose seemed preoccupied. The journalist was overwhelmed with congratulations, after the meal, when all repaired to the drawing- rooms. Mme. Walter detained him as they were about to enter the salon, saying: 'I will never speak of anything to you again, only come to see me, Georges. It is impossible for me to live without you. I see you, I feel you, in my heart all day and all night. It is as if I had drunk a poison which preyed upon me. I cannot bear it. I would rather be as an old woman to you. I powdered my hair for that reason to-night; but come here--come from time to time as a friend.'
He replied calmly: 'Very well. It is unnecessary to speak of it again. You see I came to-day on receipt of your letter.'
Walter, who had preceded them, with his two daughters and Madeleine, awaited Du Roy near the picture of 'Christ Walking on the Water.'
'Only think,' said he, 'I found my wife yesterday kneeling before that painting as if in a chapel. She was praying!'
Mme. Walter replied in a firm voice, in a voice in which vibrated a secret exaltation: 'That Christ will save my soul. He gives me fresh courage and strength every time that I look at Him.' And pausing before the picture, she murmured: 'How beautiful He is! How frightened those men are, and how they love Him! Look at His head, His eyes, how simple and supernatural He is at the same time!'
Suzanne cried: 'Why, He looks like you, Bel-Ami! I am sure He looks like you. The resemblance is striking.'
She made him stand beside the painting and everyone recognized the likeness. Du Roy was embarrassed. Walter thought it very singular; Madeleine, with a smile, remarked that Jesus looked more manly. Mme. Walter stood by motionless, staring fixedly at her lover's face, her cheeks as white as her hair.
CHAPTER XVI.
DIVORCE
During the remainder of the winter, the Du Roys often visited the Walters. Georges, too, frequently dined there alone, Madeleine pleading fatigue and preferring to remain at home. He had chosen Friday as his day, and Mme. Walter never invited anyone else on that evening; it belonged to Bel-Ami. Often in a dark corner or behind a tree in the conservatory, Mme. Walter embraced the young man and whispered in his ear: 'I love you, I love you! I love you desperately!'
But he always repulsed her coldly, saying: 'If you persist in that, I will not come again.'
Toward the end of March people talked of the marriage of the two sisters: Rose was to marry, Dame Rumor said, Count de Latour-Ivelin and Suzanne, the Marquis de Cazolles. The subject of Suzanne's possible marriage had not been broached again between her and Georges until one morning, the latter having been brought home by M. Walter to lunch, he whispered to Suzanne: 'Come, let us give the fish some bread.'
They proceeded to the conservatory in which was the marble basin containing the fish. As Georges and Suzanne leaned over its edge, they saw their reflections in the water and smiled at them. Suddenly, he said in a low voice: 'It is not right of you to keep secrets from me, Suzanne.'
She asked:
'What secrets, Bel-Ami?'
'Do you remember what you promised me here the night of the fete?'
'No.'
'To consult me every time you received a proposal.'
'Well?'
'Well, you have received one!'
'From whom?'
'You know very well.'
'No, I swear I do not.'
'Yes, you do. It is from that fop of a Marquis de Cazolles.'
'He is not a fop.'
'That may be, but he is stupid. He is no match for you who are so pretty, so fresh, so bright!'
She asked with a smile: 'What have you against him?'
'I? Nothing!'
'Yes, you have. He is not all that you say he is.'
'He is a fool, and an intriguer.'
