Saved
I
The little Marquise de Rennedon burst into the room like a ball crashing through a window, and began to laugh before she had said a word; she laughed until she cried, just as she had laughed a month before when she came to tell her friend that she had deceived the marquis to revenge herself, for no reason but to revenge herself, and only once, because he really was too stupid and too jealous.
The little Baronne de Grangerie had thrown down on her vast couch the book she was reading, and she stared curiously at Annette, laughing already herself.
At last she asked:
“What have you done now?”
“Oh … my dear … my dear … it’s too funny … too funny … think of it … I’m saved … saved … saved.”
“What do you mean, saved?”
“Yes, saved.”
“From what?”
“From my husband, darling, saved! Delivered! Free! … free! … free!”
“How are you free? In what way?”
“In what way? Divorce! Yes, divorce! I can get a divorce.”
“You’re divorced?”
“No, not yet. How silly you are! You can’t get divorced in three hours! But I’ve got evidence … evidence … evidence that he is deceiving me … absolutely caught in the act … think! … in the act. … I can prove it. …”
“Oh, tell me about it. So he has deceived you?”
“Yes … that’s to say, no … yes and no. Oh, I’ve been clever, vastly clever. For the last three months he has been detestable, utterly detestable, brutal, coarse, tyrannical, too mean to live. I said to myself: This can’t go on, I must get a divorce! But how? It wasn’t easy. I tried to get him to beat me. He wouldn’t. He crossed me from morning to night, made me go out when I didn’t want to, and stay at home when I was longing to drive in town; he made my life unbearable from one week’s end to another, but he didn’t beat me.
“Then I tried to find out if he had a mistress. Yes, he had one, but he took every precaution when he went to visit her. It simply wasn’t possible to take them together. So, guess what I did.”
“I can’t guess.”
“Oh, you’d never guess. I begged my brother to get me a photograph of his girl.”
“Of your husband’s mistress?”
“Yes. It cost Jacques fifteen louis, the price of one evening, from seven o’clock to twelve, dinner included, three louis an hour. He got the photograph thrown in.”
“I should have thought he could have got it cheaper by any other method, and without—without—without being obliged to take the original as well.”
“Oh, but she’s pretty. Jacques didn’t mind it at all. And besides, I wanted to know all sorts of physical details about her figure, her breast, her skin, and all that.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will in a minute. When I had found out all I wanted to know, I went to a man … what shall I call him? … a very clever man … you know … one of those men who arrange things of all … of all kinds … one of those agents who can get you detectives and accomplices … one of those men … now do you understand?”
“Yes, I think so. And what did you say to him?”
“I showed him the photograph of Clarisse (she’s called Clarisse) and I said: ‘I want a lady’s maid like this photograph. She must be pretty, graceful, neat, clean. I’ll pay any price you like. If it costs me ten thousand francs, so much the worse for me. I shan’t need her for more than three months.’
“The man looked most surprised. ‘You want a girl with a good character, madam?’ he asked.
“I blushed and stammered: ‘Yes, certainly, so far as knowing her duties is concerned.’
“ ‘And as far as her morals?’ he added. I didn’t dare to answer. I could only shake my head to mean ‘No.’ And all at once I realised that he had a dreadful suspicion, and I lost my head and cried: ‘Oh, Monsieur, it’s for my husband … he is deceiving me … he’s deceiving me up in town … and I want … I want him to deceive me at home … you see … so that I can catch him at it.’
“Then the man burst out laughing. And I saw by his face that I had regained his opinion of me. He even thought me rather splendid. I’d have been ready to bet that he wanted to shake hands with me on the spot.
“ ‘I’ll arrange it for you within the week, madam,’ he said. ‘And if necessary we’ll change the attraction. I’ll guarantee success. You won’t pay me until we have been successful. … So this is the photograph of your husband’s mistress?’
“ ‘Yes.’
“ ‘She’s got a good figure, not so thin as she appears. And what scent?’
“I didn’t understand. ‘How do you mean, what scent?’ I repeated.
“He smiled. ‘Yes, madam, scent is of the first importance in seducing a man; because it stirs hidden memories that prepare his mind for the necessary impulse; scent works a subtle confusion in his mind, disturbs him and weakens his defence by reminding him of past pleasures. You should also try to find out what your husband usually eats when he dines with this lady. You could arrange to give him the same dishes the evening you put it over him. Ah, we’ll pull it off, madam, we’ll pull it off!’
“I went
