Part 37 (1/2)

”Oh! you always flatter me, Monsieur Dulac.”

”No, madame; on my honor, you are a remarkable musician.”

I walked about the salon several times; then I asked Eugenie:

”Why is not Henriette here?”

”Because she is playing in my room, I presume. Do you suppose, monsieur, that I can always attend to her? A girl who will soon be four years old can play alone.”

I sat down to listen to the music, but in five minutes my wife said that she was tired and left the piano. Monsieur Dulac talked a few minutes, then took his leave. My wife returned to her room, and I to my study, saying to myself that I must have seemed like a donkey to that man.

When I was alone I blushed at the suspicions that had pa.s.sed through my head. In spite of that I became more constant in my attendance on my wife. I did not leave to others the duty of escorting her to parties; I went with her myself. But, as the time of her delivery drew near, Eugenie went about less. b.a.l.l.s were abandoned, receptions less frequented, and even music was somewhat neglected. At last the moment arrived, and I became the father of a boy.

Nothing can describe my joy, my intoxication; I had a boy! I myself ran about to announce it everywhere; and among my visits I did not forget Ernest and his wife, for I knew that they would share my delight. They embraced me and congratulated me; they adored their children, so that they understood my feeling.

My mother was my son's G.o.dmother, with a distant kinsman of my wife. I gave him the name of Eugene and we put him out to nurse at Livry with the same peasant woman who had taken our daughter, and whose trade it was always to have a supply of milk.

Eugenie seemed pleased to have a son, although her joy was less expansive than mine. Our acquaintances came to see us; Monsieur Dulac was not one of the last. That young man seemed to share my pleasure so heartily that I was touched. I had totally forgotten the ideas that had pa.s.sed through my mind a few months before; I could not understand how I had been able to doubt my Eugenie's fidelity for an instant.

Belan also came to see me. He was satisfied now concerning his Armide's virtue. She had demonstrated to him that she had arranged to meet the marquis on the new boulevards to go begging for the benefit of the poor; and her reason for doing it secretly was that her modesty would have suffered too much if people had known of all that she did for the relief of her fellow-creatures. Belan had humbled himself before his charitable better half; he went about everywhere extolling his wife's n.o.ble deeds; he was no longer afraid of being betrayed. So much the better for him. I congratulated him and bowed him out just when he seemed to be on the point of mentioning Monsieur Dulac again. I gave him to understand that I did not like evil tongues and that I should take it very ill of anybody who tried to disturb the peace of my household.

No, I certainly would not be jealous again. I blushed to think that I had been for a single instant. If Eugenie was no longer the same with me as in the first months of our wedded life, it was doubtless because we are not permitted to enjoy such happiness forever. Enjoyment, if it does not entirely extinguish love, certainly diminishes its piquancy; when one can gratify one's desires as soon as they are formed, one does not form so many. And yet Ernest and Marguerite were still like lovers! To be sure, they were not married. Could it be that the idea that they could leave each other at any minute was the consideration that kept their love from growing old?

When she had entirely recovered her health, Eugenie's taste for society revived; she paid little attention to her daughter, and that distressed me. For our Henriette was fascinating. I pa.s.sed hours talking with her, and those hours pa.s.sed much more rapidly than those which I was obliged to spend at evening parties.

I suggested going to see my son at Livry. My wife declared that he was too small, that we must wait until his features had become more formed.

But I did not choose to wait any longer; I longed to embrace my little Eugene, so I hired a horse one morning, and went to the nurse's house.

My son seemed to me a fascinating little fellow; I recognized his mother's features in his. I embraced him, but I sighed; something was lacking to my happiness. I felt that it was wrong of Eugenie not to have desired to embrace her son.

The nurse asked me if my wife was sick. The good people thought that she must be sick because she had failed to accompany me.

”Yes, she is not feeling very well,” I said to the nurse.

”Oh well! as soon as she's all right again, I'm sure that madame will want to come too.”

”Yes, we will come together the next time.”

I pa.s.sed several hours beside my son's cradle. As I drove back to Paris, I indulged in reflections which were not cheerful. In vain did I try to excuse Eugenie, I felt that her conduct was not what it should be, and it distressed me to feel that she was in the wrong.

I reached home at six o'clock. Madame was not there; she had gone to dine with Madame Dorcelles. She was one of her school friends whom she had met again in society; one of those dissipated, coquettish women, who consider it perfectly natural to see their husbands only by chance, when they dine with him. I did not like that woman, and I had told Eugenie so and had requested her not to see too much of her; and she went to dine at her house!

She had not taken her daughter. My little Henriette ran out to embrace me, with outstretched arms! How could Eugenie take any pleasure, away from her daughter? I could not understand it.

”Didn't your mamma take you?” I asked the child, taking her on my knee.

”No, papa.”

”Did you cry when she went away?”

”Yes, papa, I cried.”