Part 13 (1/2)
”By the way, madame, Monsieur Blemont is a lawyer; he knows all about the laws, and what rights people have. My husband isn't very well posted in such matters; his forte is marriages. Consult Monsieur Blemont about your business; he will tell you whether you are in the right or not.”
”I should not dare to annoy monsieur,” replied the mother, ”or presume to take his time.”
I eagerly offered my services and asked what the business was; but she could not explain it to me at the theatre; it was necessary for me to look over doc.u.ments and t.i.tle deeds. That was just what I hoped. Madame Dumeillan gave me her address, and, while renewing her apologies for the trouble I was about to take, thanked me in advance for calling upon her some morning. She thanked me for something which I would eagerly have asked as a favor! How happy I was! But I succeeded in concealing my delight. I did not again put my hand near Mademoiselle Dumeillan's; it was especially essential then that I should be careful not to act like a man in love. A novice throws himself at people's heads, but a clever man knows how to husband his privileges.
Acting upon this principle, when Giraud arrived I paid my respects to the ladies and left the theatre. Had I remained I should have seemed to be looking for an opportunity to escort them home.
VI
I GO TO THE HOUSE
The next day arrived and I hesitated about calling upon the two ladies.
Would it not be showing too much eagerness? No, it would be no more than polite; since they chose to have confidence in my talent, I ought not to keep them waiting.
I waited until the clock struck two; then I went to Madame Dumeillan's.
The condition of affairs there was not the same as at Giraud's. The maid had finished sweeping the rooms. The one who admitted me ushered me into a room decorated without display, but with taste; there was a good fire and I found the young lady of the house practising upon the piano.
Mademoiselle Eugenie left her music to inform her mother of my arrival; I dared not tell her that it was on her account alone that I had come; that would have been going too fast. What a pity it is that one cannot go straight to one's goal. How much time we waste!
The mother appeared. After the first salutations she explained her business to me and showed me her papers. Eugenie left the salon while her mother was talking to me; and it was well that she did, for I was listening distractedly, and I think that I answered incoherently. After she had gone I was all attention. The mother's business concerned a small farm which had descended to her husband, and her possession of which was disputed by his brother-in-law. Her right seemed to me incontestable; but I could not read all the papers at once. She thought it quite natural for me to take them away in order to study them at home.
Eugenie returned and we talked of less serious things. The mother was very agreeable; Eugenie was bright and well informed, and although I had not yet become intimate with them, I was already on very good terms with them. After an hour's visit, I took my leave; I did not need to ask permission to call again, for I had a foothold in the house.
I did not go to Madame Dumeillan's again for two days. I am a peculiar man; I was determined to conceal my sentiments, and I should have been distressed to have Mademoiselle Eugenie suspect the impression that she had produced upon me. At last I made my second call. I had made a thorough study of the case in which the widow was threatened with a suit. I was persuaded that she was in the right; I so a.s.sured her and I offered my services to look after the matter, which I considered as already won. Madame Dumeillan was overjoyed; she thanked me and accepted my offer. I was no longer a stranger in the house; they seemed to look upon me as a friend.
The mother and daughter received much company; but they had one special reception day during the week. On that day there were cards and music and sometimes dancing. Their guests were more select than those one met at Giraud's; they were an entirely different set. And yet there were some whom I should have been glad not to see there; they were the young men, very attractive young men, who were attentive and devoted to Eugenie. How absurd I was! I had no objection to young women coming there, but as to men, I would have liked to have none but bewigged heads. Those I found extremely agreeable.
For my own part, I think that I was not often agreeable. No one ever is when he is really in love. I liked to see the ladies in private; then I was much happier. If Eugenie played, there was no young man leaning over the piano, ready to turn the leaves for her. If I talked with her, we were not interrupted by some dandy coming to pay her a compliment; and yet I realized that they could not receive me and no one else.
I did not neglect the business that was entrusted to me; the prospect of winning the suit was doubly agreeable to me: I should oblige the ladies and I should give them a favorable opinion of my ability. It did not require much eloquence to succeed; madame triumphed over an adversary who had sued her because he had a mania for litigation. Only two months from the time of my first call, I had the pleasure of bringing the affair to a successful termination.
Although the property at stake was of no great value, Madame Dumeillan thanked me effusively; mothers think a great deal of money. Eugenie thanked me courteously, but that was all. As a general rule our relations were rather cool. Why did she not treat me as she did other men? Had she noticed that I was annoyed when men paid court to her, that I moved away when others approached? Did she not like my disposition? In truth she must have found me far from amiable. I was much less so than any of the other men who visited her mother. I never made any flattering remarks to her, I made no pretence of being devoted or gallant to her.
Was that the way for me to succeed in making myself agreeable to her?
Yes, I preferred that she should love me as I was! I wanted her to prove to me that she had read my heart, and I did my utmost to conceal from her what was taking place in it! Love sometimes makes us very eccentric.
Sometimes I promised myself to change my manner toward Eugenie; I tried to do as the other young men did who came to her house: to be agreeable and gallant, to laugh and joke when others were about her; but I did not play my part well, my gayety was forced; Eugenie seemed to notice it, and that made me still more awkward.
The young men who were received at Madame Dumeillan's were all men of breeding; there was nothing in their attentions to Mademoiselle Eugenie which could offend the greatest stickler for propriety. Why then should I take offense? Because I could not be agreeable to her, was it any reason that others should not be? I realized that I was wrong; but I was determined to study and become thoroughly acquainted with Eugenie's character. I thought her a little inclined to flirt. In a girl of her age, and so pretty, that is very excusable; and besides, are not all women flirts? Yes, all, a little more or a little less; but it is a failing inherent in their nature. But is it a failing? Innocent coquetry is nothing more than a desire to please; that desire leads them to take more care with their dress, with the arrangement of their hair, with their whole personal appearance. What should we say of a woman who neglected all such things? We should blame her, or we should think that she had no taste. Why then should we call that a failing which is done to charm and fascinate us? By their education, by the place they fill in society, women are debarred from occupations in which they would be more successful perhaps than we are; from important negotiations, which they would untangle more quickly than many diplomatists; and from political discussions, in which so many men do not know what they are saying. We have left to women the simple and less arduous occupations of the household; but those occupations, even if they suffice to employ the time, can not furnish sufficient occupation for the mind and the imagination, to prevent them from seeking other employment. Some men think that a needle, an embroidery frame, or a piano ought to be enough to keep a woman busy. I do not think, like Cato, that wisdom and common sense are incompatible with the female mind; I believe that their intellects, their imaginations require other resources than a needle and a piano. They are forced to become coquettes because the desire to please is an employment which occupies the mind and gives it food for dreams; they would be much less coquettish if they were employed upon the same tasks that we are. And then there are so many degrees in coquetry! The sort of which I speak is perfectly natural, and perfectly legitimate for women. Eugenie had no other. She was fond of amus.e.m.e.nt, that was natural; and yet she never showed any disappointment when her mother declined an invitation to a ball. I was sure that she had an affectionate heart; her eyes sometimes had such a tender expression, and I had seen her shed tears at the performance of a sad play. But that was not sufficient proof that she would ever love pa.s.sionately.
I was inclined to believe that she took no interest at all in me; she was most cold and reserved with me. She noticed doubtless that I followed her with my eyes, that I constantly watched her. I did not see the sense of going to a house to be dismal when others are merry, and perhaps to make oneself ridiculous. That thought made me blush for my weakness; self-esteem has so much influence on our hearts! I determined to think no more of Eugenie, and in order to forget her more quickly I determined not to call at her mother's for a fortnight.
It was very hard for me to adhere to that resolution, for I had never pa.s.sed more than two days without seeing her! However, a week pa.s.sed, and I had kept my word; on the ninth day I reflected that Madame Dumeillan, who always was very friendly to me and always seemed to be very glad to see me, would think it strange that I had allowed so long a time to pa.s.s without calling. After all, if her daughter was cool to me, it was not that excellent lady's fault, and it should not make me discourteous to her. On the tenth day I decided to call there in the evening.
I did not select a reception day; however, I found some old acquaintances of Madame Dumeillan there who had come to play boston; two ladies and an old gentleman were playing with the mother, and Eugenie was alone, in a corner of the salon, embroidering.
Madame Dumeillan inquired with interest for my health; she had been afraid that I was ill and was intending to send to my apartment the next day. I thanked her, and apologized on the plea of a press of business; then I left the mother to her game and took a seat beside Eugenie.