And the three relatives went away, too bewildered to think of anything.
Side by side they walked home, without speaking, ashamed and furious, as though they had robbed each other. All of Cora’s grief, even, had suddenly disappeared, the ingratitude of her aunt driving away all disposition to weep.
At last Lesable, whose pale lips were drawn with rage, said to his father-in-law:
“Pass me that paper, that I may read it with my own eyes.” Cachelin handed him the document and the young man began to read. He had stopped on the footpath and, jostled by the passersby, he stood there scanning the words with his piercing and practical eye. The two others waited a few steps in front, still silent.
Then he handed back the paper, saying:
“There is nothing to be done. She has tricked us beautifully.”
Cachelin, who was irritated by the failure of his hopes, replied:
“It was for you to have a child, damn it! You knew well enough that she wanted it long ago.”
Lesable shrugged his shoulders without answering.
On entering they found a crowd of people awaiting them, those whose calling brings them where a corpse is. Lesable went to his room, not wishing to be bothered, and César spoke roughly to all of them, crying out to them to leave him in peace, demanding that they get through with it as quickly as possible, thinking that they were very long in relieving him of the dead.
Cora, shut up in her room, made no sound, but after an hour Cachelin came and rapped on the door of his son-in-law.
“I come, my dear Léopold,” said he, “to submit some reflections to you, for it is necessary to come to some understanding. My opinion is that we should give her a befitting funeral in order to give no hint at the Ministry of what has happened. We will arrange about the expense. Besides, nothing is lost. You have not been married very long, and it would be too great a misfortune if you had no children. You must set about it, that’s all. And now to business. Will you drop in at the Ministry after a while? I am going to address the envelopes for the death announcements.”
Lesable grudgingly agreed that his father-in-law was right, and they sat down face to face, each at an end of a long table, to fill in the black-bordered cards.
Then they lunched. Cora reappeared, indifferent as though nothing of what had passed concerned her, and she ate a good deal, having fasted the evening before.
As soon as the meal was finished she returned to her room. Lesable left to go to the Ministry, and Cachelin installed himself on the balcony, his chair tilted back, in order to enjoy a pipe.
The broad sun of a summer day fell perpendicularly upon the multitude of roofs, some of which were pierced with windows which blazed as with fire and threw back the dazzling rays which the sight could not sustain.
And Cachelin, in his shirtsleeves, looked, with his eyes blinking under this stream of light, upon the green hillocks far, far away beyond the great city, beyond the dusty suburbs. He thought of how the Seine flowed there, broad, calm, and fresh, at the foot of hills which had trees on their slopes, and how much better it would be to be lying on one’s stomach in that greenery on the bank of the river, gazing into the water, than to be sitting on the burning lead of his balcony. And an uneasiness oppressed him, the tormenting thought, the grievous sensation of their disaster, of that unfortunate, unexpected thing, so much more bitter and brutal because the hope had been so ardent and so long-lived; and he said aloud, as people do in time of great trouble of mind, in the uprooting of a fixed idea: “Damned old witch!”
Behind him in the bedroom he heard the movements of those who were busying themselves with the preparations for the funeral, and the continuous noise of the hammer which nailed up the coffin. He had not looked at his sister since his visit to the lawyer.
But little by little the warmth, the gaiety, the clear charm of this beautiful day penetrated to his mind and his soul, and he thought that things were not so desperate. Why should his daughter not have a child? She had not been married two years yet! His son-in-law appeared vigorous, well built, and in good health, although small. They would have a child, and then besides, by Jupiter, they had to!
Lesable furtively entered the Ministry and slunk to his room. He found on the table a paper bearing these words: “The chief wants you.” He made a gesture of impatience. He felt a revolt against this yoke which had again fallen on his back; then a sudden and violent desire to succeed seized him. He would be chief in his turn, and soon; he would then go higher still. Without removing his frock-coat he went at once to M. Torchebeuf. He presented himself with one of those solemn faces which one assumes on sad occasions. But there was something more—an expression of sincere and profound sorrow, that involuntary dejection which a deep disappointment leaves upon the features.
The head of the chief was bent over his papers. He raised it suddenly, and said in a sharp tone: “I have needed you all morning. Why have you not come?”
Lesable replied: “Dear master, we have had the misfortune to lose my aunt, Mademoiselle Cachelin, and I have just come to ask you to attend the funeral, which will
