Then they were bold enough to walk a little way together, talking of various things; but already their eyes were saying a thousand more intimate things, delightful secret things that are reflected in soft tender glances and quicken the heart’s wild beating, revealing the hidden desires more plainly than any protestations.
Then he must have taken her hand, and stammered those words that a woman understands and pretends not to hear.
And they told each other that they loved without proving their love by any gross and sensual act.
The woman would have stayed indefinitely in this halfway house of affection but the man wanted to go further. He pressed her each day more fiercely to yield herself to his violent desire.
She resisted, she would not, seemed determined not to give in.
However, one evening she said to him casually: “My husband has just gone to Marseilles. He will be away for four days.”
Jean de Carmelin threw himself at her feet, and entreated her to open her door that very evening, about eleven o’clock. But she did not listen and went home in seeming anger.
The major was in an ill humour all evening; and that day at dawn he stalked furiously up and down the ramparts, from the band school to the squad drill, flinging punishments at officers and men, like a man flinging stones in a crowd.
But when he returned from breakfast, he found under his napkin an envelope containing these four words:
“Tonight at ten o’clock.”
And he gave the orderly who was serving him five francs for no reason at all.
The day seemed far too long for him. He spent part of it in curling and scenting himself.
Just as he sat down to dinner, another envelope was handed to him. Inside he found this telegram:
“Darling, business finished. I return this evening nine o’clock train. Parisse.”
The commandant let fly an oath so heartfelt that the orderly dropped the soup tureen on the floor.
What was to be done? He wanted her that evening, at all costs; and he would have her. He would have her by hook or by crook, even if he had to arrest and imprison the husband. Suddenly a wild idea came into his head. He sent for paper and wrote:
“Madame,
“He will not come home this evening, I swear it, and at ten o’clock I will be at the appointed place. Don’t be afraid of anything. I promise you it will be all right, on my honour as an officer.
He sent off the letter, and placidly finished his dinner.
Towards eight o’clock, he sent for Captain Gribois, his second in command; and crushing M. Parisse’s crumpled telegram between his fingers, he said:
“Captain Gribois, I have received a strange telegram, the contents of which I cannot possibly tell you. You will shut the town gates at once and set a guard, so that no one—no one, you understand—can come in or go out before six o’clock in the morning. You will also send patrols through the streets and compel the townspeople to be in their houses at nine o’clock. Any person found outside after that hour will be conducted to his house manu militari. If your men meet me tonight they will walk in the opposite direction, without making any sign of recognition.
“You have that quite clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I make you responsible for the carrying out of these orders, Gribois.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Will you have a Chartreuse?”
“Delighted, sir.”
They touched glasses, drank the tawny liqueur, and Captain Gribois went off.
III
The Marseilles train came into the station to the minute of nine o’clock, deposited two travellers on the platform and continued its journey to Nice.
One was tall and thin, M. Saribe, oil merchant, the other fat and short, M. Parisse.
They set off side by side, carrying their suitcases, towards the town, which was a mile away.
But when they reached the harbour gate, the sentries fixed bayonets and ordered them to keep out.
Startled, stupefied, quite dazed with surprise, they drew off and deliberated; then after taking counsel together, they returned cautiously to parley and gave their names.
But the soldiers must have had the strictest orders, for they threatened to shoot; and the two terrified travellers fled with all possible agility, leaving behind the suitcases that weighed them down.
Then they walked round the ramparts and presented themselves at the Cannes gate. It was as closely shut, and it too was guarded by menacing sentries. MM. Saribe and Parisse, being prudent men, pursued the matter no further, but returned to the station in search of shelter, for the road round the fortifications was not very safe after sundown.
A surprised and sleepy porter allowed them to spend the night in the waiting-room.
They spent it side by side, without a light, on the green velvet sofa, too terrified to think of sleeping.
They found it a long night.
Towards half past six they learned that the gates were open, and that they could at last get into Antibes. They set out, but they did not find their abandoned suitcases on the road.
When, a little uneasy, they stepped through the town gate, the commanding officer himself, with the ends of his moustache twisted up and veiled impenetrable glance, came up to identify and question them.
Then he saluted them politely and apologised for having made them spend an unpleasant night. But he had been compelled to carry out his orders.
The citizens of Antibes were utterly bewildered. Some people said that the Italians had been planning a surprise attack, others said that the Prince had gone away by boat, and yet others believed there had been an Orléanist plot. The truth was not suspected until later when it came out that the battalion had been posted to a distant station and M. de Carmelin severely punished.
IV
M. Martini had finished speaking. Mme. Parisse, her walk over, was returning. She passed near me, gravely, her eyes turned to the Alps whose peaks were rosy now in the last rays of
