old French tramp whom I found last year in America, and I brought him back. It seems that he has some relatives in Havre, but that he doesn’t wish to return to them because he owes them money. His name is Jules—Jules Darmanche or Darvanche or something like that. It seems that he was once rich over there, but you can see what’s left of him now.’
“My father turned ashy pale and muttered, his throat contracted, his eyes haggard:
“ ‘Ah! ah! very well, very well. I’m not in the least surprised. Thank you very much, captain.’
“He went away, and the astonished sailor watched him disappear. He returned to my mother so upset that she said to him:
“ ‘Sit down; someone will notice that something is the matter.’
“He sank down on a bench and stammered:
“ ‘It’s he! It’s he!’
“Then he asked:
“ ‘What are we going to do?’
“She answered quickly:
“ ‘We must get the children out of the way. Since Joseph knows everything, he can go and get them. We must take good care that our son-in-law doesn’t find out.’
“My father seemed absolutely bewildered. He murmured:
“ ‘What a catastrophe!’
“Suddenly growing furious, my mother exclaimed:
“ ‘I always thought that that thief never would do anything, and that he would drop down on us again! As if one could expect anything from a Davranche!’
“My father passed his hand over his forehead, as he always did when his wife reproached him. She added:
“ ‘Give Joseph some money so that he can pay for the oysters. All that it needed to cap the climax would be to be recognized by that beggar. That would be very pleasant! Let’s go down to the other end of the boat, and take care that that man doesn’t come near us!’
“They gave me five francs and walked away.
“Astonished, my sisters were awaiting their father. I said that mamma had felt a sudden attack of seasickness, and I asked the shell opener:
“ ‘How much do we owe you, monsieur?’
“I felt like laughing: he was my uncle! He answered:
“ ‘Two francs fifty.’
“I held out my five francs and he returned the change. I looked at his hand; it was a poor, wrinkled, sailor’s hand, and I looked at his face, an unhappy old face. I said to myself:
“ ‘That is my uncle, the brother of my father, my uncle!’
“I gave him a tip of one franc. He thanked me:
“ ‘God bless you, my young sir!’
“He spoke like a poor man receiving alms. I couldn’t help thinking that he must have begged over there! My sisters looked at me, surprised at my generosity. When I returned the two francs to my father, my mother asked me in surprise:
“ ‘Was there three francs’ worth? That is impossible.’
“I answered in a firm voice:
“ ‘I gave ten sous as a tip.’
“My mother started, and, staring at me, she exclaimed:
“ ‘You must be crazy! Give ten sous to that man, to that vagabond—’
“She stopped at a look from my father, who was pointing at his son-in-law. Then everybody was silent.
“Before us, on the distant horizon, a purple shadow seemed to rise out of the sea. It was Jersey.
“As we approached the breakwater a violent desire seized me once more to see my Uncle Jules, to be near him, to say to him something consoling, something tender. But as no one was eating any more oysters, he had disappeared, having probably gone below to the dirty hold which was the home of the poor wretch.”
Hydrophobia?
My dear Geneviève, you ask me to tell you about my honeymoon. How do you think I dare? Sly wretch that you are, never to tell me anything, upon my word, not even the least hint. Just think, you’ve been married for eighteen months, you pretend to be my best friend, you never kept anything from me before, and you hadn’t the kindness to warn me. If you’d only given me a hint, if you’d put me on my guard about it, if you’d let the least suspicion penetrate to my mind, the very least, you would have saved me from making such a fool of myself that I still blush about it, and my husband will laugh about it till the day he dies, and no one but you is to blame for it.
I have made myself frightfully ridiculous forever, I have made one of those mistakes one never forgets, through your fault, your fault, you bad girl. … Oh, if I’d only known!
Well, I’m growing bolder as I write and I think I’ll tell you the whole story. But promise me you won’t laugh too much.
Don’t expect a comedy. It’s a drama.
You remember my wedding. I had to leave the same evening for my honeymoon. I was certainly not much like Paulette, whose story Gyp has so amusingly related in her witty novel, Autour du Mariage. And if my mother had said to me, as Madame d’Hautretan said to her daughter: “Your husband will take you in his arms … and …” I should assuredly not have replied as Paulette did, shouting with laughter: “Don’t go too far, mamma … I know all that as well as you do. …”
I knew nothing at all, and mamma, poor mamma who is frightened of the least thing, had not even dared to approach this delicate subject.
Well, at five o’clock in the evening, after the luncheon, they announced that the carriage was waiting for me. The guests had gone, I was ready. I can remember still the sound of the trunks being brought down the staircase, and the nasal voice of papa, who did not want to show that he was crying. As he embraced me, the poor man said: “Be brave,” as though I were going to have a tooth out. As for mamma, she was a fountain. My husband was hurrying me away to escape these difficult farewells; I was in tears myself although I was very happy. I can’t explain that, but it’s none the less true. Suddenly I felt something tugging at my gown. It was Bijou, quite forgotten since the morning. The poor
