Part 41 (2/2)

The waiter looked at me, uncertain whether he should reply. I put twenty francs in his hand and repeated my question, describing the two persons.

”Oh! I know who you mean, monsieur. In fact we don't usually have anybody but them at this time of day. They're there--on the front.”

”Give us a room next to theirs.”

The waiter opened the door of a large room. How was I to see them? If there were only a part.i.tion between us! but it was a solid wall. No matter! I would at least see her go out. The waiter received orders to notify me when they sent for a cab.

What a situation! to be so near one's wife when she is in the arms of a lover! I was tempted to break down the door. But no, no, I determined to control myself, for my children's sake. But suppose it were not she? I went close to the wall and listened. I heard sounds, but could distinguish nothing. Lucile softly opened the door leading into the hall, and said, pointing to the next door:

”You can hear better there.”

I walked to the door with the greatest caution and put my ear against it. Yes, I could hear very distinctly; they were kissing. And I made out these words:

”I must go now. I want to be in my room before monsieur leaves his study.”

It was she, it was certainly she in that room! that voice went to my heart, it caused a revolution in my whole being.

I returned to Lucile. I do not know what had taken place within me, or what expression my face wore; but Lucile threw herself at my feet, weeping, and faltered:

”Forgive me! oh! forgive me! Great heaven! if I had only known! How sorry I am for what I've done!”

I made no reply; I could not speak. The bell rang in the next room and I listened.

The waiter answered the bell and they sent for a cab. I recognized Dulac's voice then. I tore my hair, but I restrained myself. The waiter came to me and told me when the cab was at the door; whereupon I left the room and waited at the foot of the stairs.

She came down at last; I heard the rustling of her dress. She had reached the last stair when I abruptly stepped in front of her and grasped her arm. Eugenie raised her eyes, and, terror-stricken, fell without a sound on the stairs.

I lifted her up, and put her, or rather, threw her into the cab; I gave the address to the driver, then I walked rapidly away as if I could not fly fast enough from that house where I had acquired proofs of my shame.

XVI

THE INEVITABLE RESULT

I walked a long time; thoroughly tired out, I stopped at last. I was in the country, in a lane bordered by hedges. I saw no houses; I had no idea where I was; but what did it matter? I sat down on the ground at the foot of a leafless tree; for nature was still dead, and there was no greenery about me.

I was alone; I rested my head on my hands and abandoned myself to my grief, to my despair. Why not confess? I shed tears, yes, I wept; but no one could see me, and it seemed to me that weeping afforded me some relief.

It was not her love alone that I regretted; it was the destruction of all my happiness, of all my future. My happiness! for some time past, it had ceased to exist; but I still flattered myself that it might live again; I still hoped for those pleasant days of confidence and love which had followed our wedding. But all was lost, and it was impossible that happiness should ever be born again for me. Impossible! ah! that is a cruel word; I could not believe that Eugenie had meant to condemn me to everlasting sorrow.

And yet there are many husbands who forgive or close their eyes to the infidelity of their wives. They themselves deceive their wives, and they think it quite natural that they should do likewise.

Ah! even if I had deceived Eugenie a thousand times, I could never have borne the thought of being deceived. If only, on yielding to their weakness, they did not cease to love us! But the new sentiment kills the old one. In proportion as they grow to love another, we become less lovable in their eyes, and ere long their hearts are entirely absorbed by their new pa.s.sion.

I was resolved never to see her again; we must part, but without scandal, without noise. I had children, and it was for their sake that I determined to dissemble my unhappiness; it was for their sake that I had controlled myself that morning.

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