All this was said gravely but with nothing comminatory in the tone. In the meantime Bernard had recovered his self-possession.
“I did in fact come for that. You are not wrong. And I am beginning to think that I was not wrong either.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“That you really are the person I hoped you would be.”
Edouard was trying in vain to look severe. He was immensely entertained. He made a kind of slight mocking bow:
“Much obliged. It remains to be seen whether I shall be able to return the compliment. I suppose, since you are here, that you have read my papers?”
Bernard, who had endured without flinching the brunt of Edouard’s gaze, smiled in his turn with boldness, amusement, impertinence; and bowing low, “Don’t doubt it,” he said. “I am here to serve you.”
Then, quick as an elf, he darted downstairs.
When Edouard went back into the room, Laura was sobbing. He went up to her. She put her forehead down on his shoulder. Any manifestation of emotion embarrassed him almost unbearably. He found himself gently patting her on the back as one does a choking child:
“My poor Laura,” said he; “come, come, be sensible.”
“Oh, let me cry a little; it does me good.”
“All the same we’ve got to consider what you are to do.”
“What is there I can do? Where can I go? To whom can I speak?”
“Your parents. …”
“You know what they are. It would plunge them in despair. And they did everything they could to make me happy.”
“Douviers? …”
“I shall never dare face him again. He is so good. You mustn’t think I don’t love him. … If you only knew. … If you only knew. … Oh, say you don’t despise me too much.”
“On the contrary, my dear; on the contrary. How can you imagine such a thing?” And he began patting her on the back again.
“Yes; I don’t feel ashamed any more, when I am with you.”
“How long have you been here?”
“I can’t remember. I have only been living in the hopes that you would come. There were times when I thought I couldn’t bear it. I feel now as if I couldn’t stay here another day.”
Her sobs redoubled and she almost screamed out, though in a choking voice:
“Take me away! Take me away!”
Edouard felt more and more uncomfortable.
“Now Laura. … You must be calm. That … that … I don’t even know his name. …”
“Bernard,” murmured Laura.
“Bernard will be back in a moment. Come now; pull yourself together. He mustn’t see you in this state. Courage! We’ll think of something, I promise you. Come, come! Dry your eyes. Crying does no good. Look at yourself in the glass. Your face is all swollen. You must bathe it. When I see you crying I can’t think of anything. … There! Here he is! I can hear him.”
He went to the door and opened it to let in Bernard, while Laura, with her back turned at the dressing-table, set about restoring a semblance of calm to her features.
“And now, sir, may I ask when I shall be allowed to get possession of my belongings again?”
He looked Bernard full in the face as he spoke, with the same ironical smile on his lips as before.
“As soon as you please, sir; but at the same time, I feel obliged to confess that I shall certainly feel the loss of your belongings a good deal more than you do. I am sure you would understand if you only knew my story. But I’ll just say this, that since this morning I am without a roof, without a family and with nothing better to do than throw myself into the river, if I hadn’t met you. I followed you this morning for a long time while you were talking to my friend Olivier. He has spoken to me about you such a lot! I should have liked to go up to you. I was casting about for some excuse to do so, by hook or by crook. … When you threw your luggage ticket away, I blessed my stars. Oh, don’t take me for a thief. If I lifted your suitcase, it was more than anything so as to get into touch with you.”
Bernard brought all this out almost in a single breath. An extraordinary animation fired his words and features—as though they were aflame with kindness. Edouard, to judge by his smile, thought him charming.
“And now … ?” asked he.
Bernard understood that he was gaining ground.
“And now, weren’t you in need of a secretary? I can’t believe I should fill the post badly—it would be with such joy.”
This time Edouard laughed outright. Laura watched them both with amusement.
“Ho! Ho! … We must think about that. Come and see me tomorrow at the same time, and here—if Madame Douviers will allow it—for I have a great many things to settle with her too. You’re staying at a hotel, I suppose? Oh, I don’t want to know where. It doesn’t matter in the least. Till tomorrow.”
He held out his hand.
“Sir, before I leave you,” said Bernard, “will you allow me to remind you that there is a poor old music-master, called La Pérouse, I think, who is living in the Faubourg St. Honoré, and who would be made very happy by a visit from you?”
“Upon my word, that’s not a bad beginning. You have a very fair notion of your future duties.”
“Then. … Really? You consent?”
“We’ll see about it tomorrow. Goodbye.”
Edouard, after having stayed a few moments longer with Laura, went to the Moliniers’. He hoped to see Olivier again; he wanted to speak to him about Bernard. He saw only Pauline, though he stayed on and on in desperation.
Olivier, that very afternoon, yielding to the pressing invitation passed on to him by his brother, had gone to visit the author of The Horizontal Bar,
