She played her part badly, after all; for she grew serious, and even before going to bed always ex hibited a little melancholy, just as there are cypress trees at the door of a tavern.
He found out the cause of it; she was dreaming of marriage—she, too! Frederick was exasperated at this. Besides, he recalled to mind her appearance at Madame Arnoux’s house, and then he cherished a certain spite against her for having held out against him so long.
He made enquiries none the less as to who her lovers had been. She denied having had any relations with any of the persons he mentioned. A sort of jealous feeling took possession of him. He irritated her by asking questions about presents that had been made to her, and were still being made to her; and in proportion to the exciting effect which the lower portion of her nature produced upon him, he was drawn towards her by momentary illusions which ended in hate.
Her words, her voice, her smile, all had an unpleasant effect on him, and especially her glances with that woman’s eye forever limpid and foolish. Sometimes he felt so tired of her that he would have seen her die without being moved at it. But how could he get into a passion with her? She was so mild that there was no hope of picking a quarrel with her.
Deslauriers reappeared, and explained his sojourn at Nogent by saying that he was making arrangements to buy a lawyer’s office. Frederick was glad to see him again. It was somebody! and as a third person in the house, he helped to break the monotony.
The advocate dined with them from time to time, and whenever any little disputes arose, always took Rosanette’s part, so that Frederick, on one occasion, said to him:
“Ah! you can have with her, if it amuses you!” so much did he long for some chance of getting rid of her.
About the middle of the month of June, she was served with an order made by the law courts by which Maître Athanase Gautherot, sheriff’s officer, called on her to pay him four thousand francs due to Mademoiselle Clemence Vatnaz; if not, he would come to make a seizure on her.
In fact, of the four bills which she had at various times signed, only one had been paid; the money which she happened to get since then having been spent on other things that she required.
She rushed off at once to see Arnoux. He lived now in the Faubourg Saint-Germain, and the porter was unable to tell her the name of the street. She made her way next to the houses of several friends of hers, could not find one of them at home, and came back in a state of utter despair.
She did not wish to tell Frederick anything about it, fearing lest this new occurrence might prejudice the chance of a marriage between them.
On the following morning, M. Athanase Gautherot presented himself with two assistants close behind him, one of them sallow with a mean-looking face and an expression of devouring envy in his glance, the other wearing a collar and straps drawn very tightly, with a sort of thimble of black taffeta on his index-finger—and both ignobly dirty, with greasy necks, and the sleeves of their coats too short.
Their employer, a very good-looking man, on the contrary, began by apologising for the disagreeable duty he had to perform, while at the same time he threw a look round the room, “full of pretty things, upon my word of honour!” He added, “Not to speak of the things that can’t be seized.” At a gesture the two bailiff’s men disappeared.
Then he became twice as polite as before. Could anyone believe that a lady so charming would not have a genuine friend! A sale of her goods under an order of the courts would be a real misfortune. One never gets over a thing like that. He tried to excite her fears; then, seeing that she was very much agitated, suddenly assumed a paternal tone. He knew the world. He had been brought into business relations with all these ladies—and as he mentioned their names, he examined the frames of the pictures on the walls. They were old pictures of the worthy Arnoux, sketches by Sombary, watercolours by Burieu, and three landscapes by Dittmer. It was evident that Rosanette was ignorant of their value, Maître Gautherot turned round to her:
“Look here! to show that I am a decent fellow, do one thing: give me up those Dittmers here—and I am ready to pay all. Do you agree?”
At that moment Frederick, who had been informed about the matter by Delphine in the anteroom, and who had just seen the two assistants, came in with his hat on his head, in a rude fashion. Maître Gautherot resumed his dignity; and, as the door had been left open:
“Come on, gentlemen—write down! In the second room, let us say—an oak table with its two leaves, two sideboards—”
Frederick here stopped him, asking whether there was not some way of preventing the seizure.
“Oh! certainly! Who paid for the furniture?”
“I did.”
“Well, draw up a claim—you have still time to do it.”
Maître Gautherot did not take long in writing out his official report, wherein he directed that Mademoiselle Bron should attend at an enquiry in chambers with reference to the ownership of the furniture, and having done this he withdrew.
Frederick uttered no reproach. He gazed at the traces of mud left on the floor by the bailiff’s shoes, and, speaking to himself:
“It will soon be necessary to look about for
