But how should he speak to her? He returned a fifth time, and when he was again face to face with her she dropped her parasol. He rushed forward, picked it up and presented it to her, saying:
“Permit me, Madame—”
She responded: “Oh, you are very kind!”
And then they looked at each other. They had nothing more to say. But she blushed. Then becoming courageous, he said:
“We are having beautiful weather here.”
And she answered: “Oh, delicious!”
And then they again faced each other, embarrassed, neither thinking of going away. It was she who finally had the audacity to ask: “Are you going to be here long?”
He answered, laughing: “Oh! yes, about as long as I care to.” Then suddenly he proposed: “Would you like to go down to the pier? It is pretty there on a day like this.”
She simply said: “I should be much pleased.”
And they walked along side by side, she with her stiff, rigid movements, he with the rolling swagger of a gander showing off in a farmyard.
Three months later the leading merchants of Caen received one morning a square white card which said:
“M. and Mme. Prosper Bombard have the honour to announce the marriage of their son, M. Simon Bombard, to Mme. Kate Robertson.”
and on the other side:
“Mme. Kate Robertson has the honour of announcing her marriage to M. Simon Bombard.”
They settled in Paris. The fortune of the wife amounted to fifteen thousand francs a year free of incumbrances. Simon wished to have four hundred francs a month for his personal expenses. He had to prove that his tenderness merited this amount; he did prove it easily and obtained what he asked for.
At first everything went well. Young Mme. Bombard was no longer young, assuredly, and her freshness had undergone some wear; but she had a way of exacting things which made it impossible for anyone to refuse her. She would say, with her grave, wilful, English accent: “Oh! Simon, now we must go to bed,” which made Simon start toward the bed like a dog that had been ordered, “To your kennel.” And she knew how to have her way by day and night, in a manner there was no resisting.
She did not get angry; she made no scenes; she never raised her voice; she never had the appearance of being irritated or hurt, or even disturbed. She knew how to talk, that was all; and she spoke to the point, and in a tone that admitted no contradiction.
More than once Simon was on the point of rebelling; but against the brief and imperious desires of this singular woman he found himself unable to stand out. Nevertheless, when the conjugal kisses began to be meagre and monotonous, and he had in his pocket what would bring to him something greater, he paid for satiety, but with a thousand precautions.
Mme. Bombard perceived all this, without his knowing how; and one evening she announced to him that she had rented a house at Mantes where they would live in the future.
Then existence became harder. He tried various kinds of pastimes which did not at all compensate for the feminine conquests for which he longed.
He fished, learned how to tell the places which the gudgeon liked, which the roach and carp preferred, the favourite spots of the bream and the kinds of bait that the different fish will take.
But in watching his floater as it trembled on the surface of the water, other visions haunted his mind. Then he became the friend of the chief of the office of the Subprefect and the captain of the police; and they played whist in the evening at the Café du Commerce, but his sorrowful eye would disrobe the queen of clubs or of diamonds, while the problem of the absent legs on these two-headed figures would confuse the images awakened in his mind.
Then he conceived a plan, a typical specimen of Norman cunning. He would have his wife take a maid who suited him; not a beautiful girl, a coquette, fond of clothes, but a gawky woman, rough and strong-backed, who would not arouse suspicions and whom he had carefully coached in his plans.
She was recommended to them by the collector of tolls, his accomplice and obliging friend, who guaranteed her in every way. And Madame Bombard accepted with confidence the treasure they brought to her.
Simon was happy, happy with precaution, with fear, and with unbelievable difficulties. He could never escape the watchful eye of his wife, except for a few short moments from time to time, and then without security. He sought some plan, some stratagem, and he ended by finding one that succeeded perfectly.
Madame Bombard, who had nothing to do, retired early, while Bombard, who played whist at the Café du Commerce, returned each evening at half past nine, exactly. He got Victorine to wait for him in the passageway of his house, under the vestibule steps, in the darkness.
He only had five minutes or more for he was always in fear of a surprise; but five minutes from time to time sufficed for his ardour, and he slipped a louis into the servant’s hand, for he was generous in his pleasures, and she would quickly remount to her garret.
And he laughed, he triumphed all alone, and repeated aloud, like King Midas’s barber fishing for whitebait from the reeds on the river bank: “Fooled, old girl!”
And the happiness of having fooled Madame Bombard made up to him in great part for the imperfection and incompleteness of his salaried conquest.
One evening he found Victorine waiting for him as was her custom, but she appeared to him more lively, more animated than usual, and he remained perhaps ten minutes at the rendezvous in the corridor.
When he entered the conjugal chamber, Madame Bombard was not there. He felt a cold chill run down his back and sank into a chair, tortured with fear.
She appeared with a candlestick in her hand. He asked trembling:
“You have been out?”
She answered quietly: “I
