The spinster held out her right hand to her, and keeping it raised in front of her:
“But there are friends of yours who find it convenient for them.”
“Andalusians, I suppose? as castanets?”
“You beggar!”
The Maréchale made her a low bow.
“There’s nobody so charming!”
Mademoiselle Vatnaz made no reply. Beads of perspiration appeared on her temples. Her eyes fixed themselves on the carpet. She panted for breath. At last she reached the door, and slamming it vigorously: “Good night! You’ll hear from me!”
“Much I care!” said Rosanette. The effort of self-suppression had shattered her nerves. She sank down on the divan, shaking all over, stammering forth words of abuse, shedding tears. Was it this threat on the part of the Vatnaz that had caused so much agitation in her mind? Oh, no! what did she care, indeed, about that one? It was the golden sheep, a present, and in the midst of her tears the name of Delmar escaped her lips. So, then, she was in love with the mummer?
“In that case, why did she take on with me?” Frederick asked himself. “How is it that he has come back again? Who compels her to keep me? Where is the sense of this sort of thing?”
Rosanette was still sobbing. She remained all the time stretched at the edge of the divan, with her right cheek resting on her two hands, and she seemed a being so dainty, so free from self-consciousness, and so sorely troubled, that he drew closer to her and softly kissed her on the forehead.
Thereupon she gave him assurances of her affection for him; the Prince had just left her, they would be free. But she was for the time being short of money. “You saw yourself that this was so, the other day, when I was trying to turn my old linings to use.” No more equipages now! And this was not all; the upholsterer was threatening to resume possession of the bedroom and the large drawing-room furniture. She did not know what to do.
Frederick had a mind to answer:
“Don’t annoy yourself about it. I will pay.”
But the lady knew how to lie. Experience had enlightened her. He confined himself to mere expressions of sympathy.
Rosanette’s fears were not vain. It was necessary to give up the furniture and to quit the handsome apartment in the Rue Drouot. She took another on the Boulevard Poissonnière, on the fourth floor.
The curiosities of her old boudoir were quite sufficient to give to the three rooms a coquettish air. There were Chinese blinds, a tent on the terrace, and in the drawing-room a secondhand carpet still perfectly new, with ottomans covered with pink silk. Frederick had contributed largely to these purchases. He had felt the joy of a newly-married man who possesses at last a house of his own, a wife of his own—and, being much pleased with the place, he used to sleep there nearly every evening.
One morning, as he was passing out through the anteroom, he saw, on the third floor, on the staircase, the shako of a National Guard who was ascending it. Where in the world was he going?
Frederick waited. The man continued his progress up the stairs, with his head slightly bent down. He raised his eyes. It was my lord Arnoux!
The situation was clear. They both reddened simultaneously, overcome by a feeling of embarrassment common to both.
Arnoux was the first to find a way out of the difficulty.
“She is better—isn’t that so?” as if Rosanette were ill, and he had come to learn how she was.
Frederick took advantage of this opening.
“Yes, certainly! at least, so I was told by her maid,” wishing to convey that he had not been allowed to see her.
Then they stood facing each other, both undecided as to what they would do next, and eyeing one another intently. The question now was, which of the two was going to remain. Arnoux once more solved the problem.
“Pshaw! I’ll come back by-and-by. Where are you going? I go with you!”
And, when they were in the street, he chatted as naturally as usual. Unquestionably he was not a man of jealous disposition, or else he was too good-natured to get angry. Besides, his time was devoted to serving his country. He never left off his uniform now. On the twenty-ninth of March he had defended the offices of the Presse. When the Chamber was invaded, he distinguished himself by his courage, and he was at the banquet given to the National Guard at Amiens.
Hussonnet, who was still on duty with him, availed himself of his flask and his cigars; but, irreverent by nature, he delighted in contradicting him, disparaging the somewhat inaccurate style of the decrees; and decrying the conferences at the Luxembourg, the women known as the “Vésuviennes,” the political section bearing the name of “Tyroliens”; everything, in fact, down to the Car of Agriculture, drawn by horses to the ox-market, and escorted by ill-favoured young girls. Arnoux, on the other hand, was the upholder of authority, and dreamed of uniting the different parties. However, his own affairs had taken an unfavourable turn, and he was more or less anxious about them.
He was not much troubled about Frederick’s relations with the Maréchale; for this discovery made him feel justified (in his conscience) in withdrawing the allowance which he had renewed since the Prince had left her. He pleaded by way of excuse for this step the embarrassed condition in which he found himself, uttered many lamentations—and Rosanette was generous. The result was that M. Arnoux regarded himself as the lover who appealed entirely to the heart, an idea that raised him in his own estimation and made him feel young again. Having no doubt that Frederick was paying the Maréchale, he fancied that he was “playing a nice trick” on the young man, even called at the house in such a stealthy fashion as to keep the other in ignorance of the fact, and when they happened to meet,
