“You see he hasn’t changed,” said the poor mother, smiling at these witticisms.
I was so terribly afraid that he would begin to talk about Laura that I cut short my visit and went downstairs as fast as I could to find Rachel.
She had turned up her sleeves to help in the arrangement of the classroom; but she hastily pulled them down again as she saw me come up.
“It is extremely painful to me to have recourse to you,” she began, drawing me into a small room adjoining, which is used for private lessons. “I meant to apply to Felix Douviers—he asked me to; but now that I have seen Laura, I understand it’s impossible. …”
She was very pale, and as she said these last words, her chin and lips quivered so convulsively that for some moments she was unable to speak. I looked away from her, in the fear of adding to her discomfort. She had shut the door and was leaning against it. I tried to take her hand, but she tore it away from between mine. At last she went on again in a voice that seemed strangled by the immensity of her effort:
“Can you lend me ten thousand francs? The term promises to be fairly good and I hope to be able to pay you back soon.”
“When do you want it?”
She made no answer.
“I happen to have a little over a thousand francs on me,” I went on. “I can complete the sum tomorrow morning—this evening, if necessary.”
“No; tomorrow will do. But if you can let me have a thousand francs at once without inconvenience. …”
I took out my pocketbook and handed them to her.
“Would you like fourteen hundred?”
She lowered her head and uttered a “yes” so faint that I could hardly hear it, then she tottered to a school bench, dropped down on it, and with her elbows leaning on the desk in front of her, stayed for a few moments, her face hidden in her hands. I thought she was crying, but when I put my hand on her shoulder, she raised her head and I saw that her eyes were dry.
“Rachel,” I said, “don’t mind having had to ask me this; I am glad to be able to oblige you.”
She looked at me gravely:
“What is painful to me is to have to ask you not to mention it either to Grandfather or to Mamma. Since they gave the accounts of the school over to me, I have let them think that … well, they don’t know. Don’t say anything, I beg you. Grandfather is old and Mamma takes so much trouble.”
“Rachel, it’s not your mother who takes trouble. … It’s you.”
“She has taken trouble. She’s tired now. It’s my turn. I have nothing else to do.”
It was quite simply that she said these simple words. I felt no bitterness in her resignation—on the contrary, a kind of serenity.
“But don’t imagine that things are worse than they are. It’s just a difficult moment to tide over, because some of the creditors are getting impatient.”
“I heard the maid just now mention a tutor who was asking to be paid.”
“Yes; he came and had a very painful scene with Grandfather, which unfortunately I was unable to prevent. He’s a brutal, vulgar man. I must go and pay him.”
“Would you like me to do it for you?”
She hesitated a moment, trying in vain to force a smile.
“Thank you. No; I had better do it myself. … But come with me, will you? I’m rather frightened of him. If he sees you, he won’t dare say anything.”
The school courtyard is separated from the garden by two or three steps and a balustrade, against which the tutor was leaning with his elbows thrust behind him. He had on an enormous soft felt hat and was smoking a pipe. While Rachel was engaging him, Armand came up to me.
“Rachel has been bleeding you,” he said cynically. “You have come in the nick of time to save her from a horrid anxiety. It’s Alexander—my beast of a brother, who has been getting into debt again in the colonies. She wants to hide it from my parents. She has already given up half her ‘dot’ to make Laura’s a little larger; but this time all the rest of it has gone. She didn’t tell you anything about that, I bet. Her modesty exasperates me. It’s one of the most sinister jokes in this world below that every time anyone sacrifices himself for others, one may be perfectly certain he is worth more than they. … Just look at all she has done for Laura! And how she has rewarded her! The slut! …”
“Armand!” I cried indignantly. “You have no right to judge your sister.”
But he continued in a jerky, hissing voice:
“On the contrary, it’s because I am no better than she that I am able to judge her. I know all about it. Rachel doesn’t judge us. Rachel never judges anyone. … Yes, the slut! the slut! … I didn’t beat about the bush to tell her what I thought of her, I promise you. And you! To have covered it all up, to have protected it! You who knew! … Grandfather is as blind as a bat. Mamma tries all she can to understand nothing. As for Papa, he trusts in the Lord; it’s the most convenient thing to do. Whenever there’s a difficulty, he falls to praying and leaves Rachel to get out of it. All he asks is to remain in the dark. He rushes about like a lunatic; he’s hardly ever at home. I’m not surprised he finds it stifling here. As for me, it’s smothering me to death. He tries to stupefy himself, by Jove. In the meantime Mamma writes verses. Oh! I’m not blaming her; I write them myself. But at any rate, I know I’m nothing but a blackguard; and I’ve never pretended
