Short Fiction

foolish; there was no knowing what might happen. Supposing I were to love this little mite, this small being who owed his life to me! my son!

“My hat was on my head, and my gloves were in my hands. I threw the gloves on my desk, and my hat on a chair: ‘No, I will certainly not go, it is wiser not.’

“The door opened and my brother entered the room, holding out an anonymous letter received that morning.

“ ‘Warn your brother, the Count of L⁠⸺, that the little woman of the Rue Cassette is making game of him in the most shameless manner. Tell him to make inquiries about her.’

“I had never said a word to anybody about this long-standing intrigue. I was surprised, and told my brother the whole story from beginning to end. I added: ‘Personally, I don’t want to be bothered, but it would be kind of you to find out what you can.’

“When my brother had gone, I said to myself: ‘How can she be deceiving me? She has other lovers? What do I care? She is young, fresh and pretty: I ask no more. She seems to love me and, after all, does not cost me much. Really, I don’t understand what it’s all about.’

“My brother soon returned. The police had given him accurate information about the husband: ‘A clerk at the Home Office, correct and well reported upon, with the correct official views, but married to a very pretty woman whose expenses seemed rather high for her modest position.’ That was all.

“Now, my brother having sought for her at her house and having learned that she had gone out, succeeded in making the concierge gossip, with the assistance of a large tip.

“ ‘Madame D. is an excellent woman, and her husband a most worthy man; they are neither rich nor proud, but they are generous.’

“For the sake of saying something, my brother asked: ‘How old is the little boy now?’

“ ‘But she has no little boy, sir.’

“ ‘What? Little Léon?’

“ ‘No, sir, you are making a mistake.’

“ ‘I mean the child she had when she was in Italy, about two years ago.’

“ ‘She has never been to Italy, sir, she has never once left this house during the five years she has been living here.’

“Surprised, my brother continued his questions, carrying his investigations as far as possible. No child! No journey! I was astounded, but was far from understanding what would come of it.

“ ‘I want,’ said I, ‘to have a clear conscience on the subject. I will beg her to come and see me tomorrow. You must see her for me. If she has played a trick upon me, you will hand over to her this ten thousand francs and I will never see her again. In fact I am beginning to have enough of her.’

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“Would you believe it? The night before, I was distressed because I had a child by that woman, and now I was ashamed, hurt and irritable because there was no child. I found myself free from all obligations and from all anxiety, and yet I felt indignant. The next day my brother awaited her in my study. She came in quickly, as usual, rushing towards him with arms outstretched, and stopped dead when she saw who it was.

“He bowed and apologised.

“ ‘I beg your pardon, Madame, for being here instead of my brother; but he has authorised me to ask you for an explanation, which it would have been painful for him to do himself.’

“Then, looking her straight in the face, he said abruptly: ‘We know you have not had a child by him.’

“After the first moment of surprise, she recovered her composure, took a seat, and gazed smilingly at the man who was sitting in judgment on her.

“ ‘No; I have no child.’

“ ‘We also know that you have never been to Italy.’

“This time she laughed outright:

“ ‘No, I have never been in Italy.’

“Aghast, my brother continued:

“ ‘The Count has requested me to hand you this money and to tell you that the affair is ended.’

“At that she became serious, calmly put the money into her pocket, and said ingenuously: ‘So⁠—I shall never see the Count again?’

“ ‘No, Madame.’

“She seemed upset and added quietly: ‘It can’t be helped, I was very fond of him.’

“Seeing that she had decided to make the best of things as they were, my brother smilingly asked her:

“ ‘Now, tell me why you invented this long and complicated falsehood of the journey and the child.’

“She looked at my brother, amazed, as if he had asked a very stupid question, and replied:

“ ‘Well, you are queer! Do you think a poor little insignificant bourgeoise like me could have kept the Count of L⁠⸺, a minister, a great nobleman, a popular man in society, wealthy and attractive, for three years if she had not given him something to think about? Now it’s over. It can’t be helped, it could not last forever. Nevertheless I have been successful for three years. Do not forget to remember me kindly to him.’

“She got up to go. My brother went on with his questions:

“ ‘But⁠—the child? You had one to show him?’

“ ‘Certainly, my sister’s child. She lent it to me. I bet it was she who warned you.’

“ ‘Good! And the letters from Italy?’

“She sat down again to laugh with comfort.

“ ‘Oh! the letters, well, that’s a real poem. The Count was not at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs for nothing.’

“ ‘But⁠—the rest.’

“ ‘The rest is my secret. I am not going to compromise anyone.’ And bowing to him with a slightly mocking smile, she made her exit, like an actress whose part is ended, without showing any feeling.”

And the Count of L⁠⸺ added by way of moral: “Don’t put your trust in birds of that feather.”

The Legend of Mont Saint-Michel

I had first seen it from Cancale, this fairy castle planted in the sea. I had seen it dimly, like a gray shadow rising in the foggy sky. I saw it again from Avranches at sunset. The immense stretch of sand was red,