“You know that my father was a colonel in a cavalry regiment. This boy—a farmer’s son and now an old man—was his orderly. When my father retired he took the soldier, then about forty years old, with him as valet. I was thirty at the time, and we lived in our castle de Varenne, near Caudebec-en-Cour.
“My mother’s chambermaid was one of the prettiest girls imaginable, alert, gay, fair and slight: a real soubrette, of the kind no longer with us. Now they are all no better than they should be. There is a railway to Paris, the city beckons to them. As soon as they grow up, Paris takes all these sluts who in the old days were simple serving-maids. Every man passing by—like the recruiting-sergeant looking for conscripts—entices them away and then seduces them, so that now we have only the fag-end of the female race left as servants: thickset, hideous, common, deformed, too ugly for love.
“As I was saying, this young girl was charming, and I occasionally kissed her in the dark passages. No more than that; oh! nothing more, I swear. She was a good girl, and I respected my mother’s house, which is more than can be said for the scamp of today.
“My father’s valet—the former soldier, the old farmer you have just seen—fell madly in love with the girl, impossibly in love. At first we noticed that he forgot everything, that he did not seem to be able to think about anything, and my father was always saying: ‘Come, come, John, what is the matter? Are you ill?’ To which he replied: ‘No, no, sir. I am all right.’
“He got thinner and thinner, then he began to break the glasses and drop the plates when he was waiting at table. We thought he had some nervous complaint, and sent for the doctor, who thought the spinal cord was affected, so my father, anxious for the welfare of his servant, decided to send him to a hospital, but when told about the plan, he confessed.
“He chose a morning when his master was shaving, to make his confession. He began timidly:
“ ‘Sir.’
“ ‘Well, my boy?’
“ ‘You see, it is not medicine I want.’
“ ‘Well, what is it then?’
“ ‘To be married.’
“My father turned, very surprised, and said:
“ ‘What’s that? What’s that? … eh?’
“ ‘To be married.’
“ ‘To be married? Well, then, you must be … in love … you?’
“ ‘That’s what’s the matter, sir.’
“My father burst into such a fit of uncontrollable laughter that my mother called out:
“ ‘What is the matter with you, Gontran?’
“He replied: ‘Come here, Catherine.’
“When she came he told her with tears in his eyes that his idiot of a valet was simply ill with love.
“My mother’s feelings were roused at once; instead of laughing she asked: ‘Who is it you love so madly, my boy?’
“Without hesitating he replied: ‘Louise, my lady,’ and my mother said very seriously: ‘We must try and arrange things for the best.’
“So Louise was called and when questioned by my mother said that she knew of John’s love, that he had proposed several times, but that she did not want him, and refused to say why.
“Two months passed by, during which Father and Mother were always urging the girl to marry John. As she swore she loved no one else, she could give no good reason for her refusal. At last her resistance was overcome by a substantial gift of money and they settled down here as farmers. They left the castle and I saw nothing of them for three years. After three years I learnt that Louise had died of consumption, but, my father and mother dying soon after, another two years had gone by before I saw John again.
“At last one autumn towards the end of October, I thought I would come down for the shooting season, for the estate had been very carefully looked after and my farmer declared there was plenty of game about.
“I arrived one wet evening and was amazed to find that my father’s former orderly was quite white although he could not be more than forty-five or six.
“I made him join me at dinner, at this very table. It was raining in torrents and the rain could be heard beating on the roof, the walls, the windows, and flooding the courtyard; my dog was howling in the stable just as our dogs are howling this evening.
“Suddenly, after the servant-maid had gone to bed, the peasant murmured:
“ ‘Sir …’
“ ‘What is it, Master John?’
“ ‘I have something to tell you.’
“ ‘Tell away, John.’
“ ‘Well, but it worries me.’
“ ‘Go ahead all the same.’
“ ‘You remember Louise, my wife?’
“ ‘Of course I remember her.’
“ ‘Well, she begged me to deliver something to you.’
“ ‘What sort of thing?’
“ ‘A … a … you might call it a confession. …’
“ ‘Ah! … what is it?’
“ ‘It is … it is … I would be very glad not to tell you … but I must, I must. … Well, then, she did not die of consumption … it was … it was … grief. … I will just tell you all about it.
“ ‘As soon as she came here she got thinner and thinner and changed so much that you would not have known her after six months; not have known her, sir. Just like me before I was married to her, only the other way about, just the other way about.
“ ‘I sent for the doctor, who said her liver was affected, that she had a—a torpid liver, so I bought all kinds of drugs, which cost over three hundred francs. But she would not take them, she would not; she said:
“ ‘ “Not worth while, my poor John, it will be all right.”
“ ‘But I knew there was something wrong. Then once I found her crying; I didn’t know what to do, no, I didn’t. I bought her caps, dresses, pomade for the hair, earrings, but it was no use, and I saw that she would not live long.
“ ‘One snowy evening at the end of November—she had been in bed the whole day—she told me to go and fetch the priest, and I went.
“ ‘As soon as he came she said: “John, I
