"Come in," said the voice of the aged lady. "The night is stormy; you will have nightmare."
That night, Julien could not sleep. He imagined that Therese had guessed him to be the musician, had seen him perhaps. Yet, he decided that he would not show himself. He was in front of his window, at six o'clock the next morning, putting his flute into its case, when the blinds of Therese's window were suddenly thrown open.
The young girl, who never arose before eight o'clock, leaned upon the railing. Julien did not move; he looked her in the face, unable to turn away. Therese, in her turn, examined him with a steady and haughty regard. She seemed to study him in his large bones, in his enormous and badly formed body, in all the ugliness of this timid giant. When she had judged him, with the tranquil air with which she would have asked herself whether a dog in the street pleased her or not, she condemned him with a slight pout. Then turning her back, she closed the window with deliberation.
Julien, his legs giving way under him, fell into his armchair.
"Ah! mon Dieu!" he exclaimed, brokenly. "I am displeasing to her! And I love her, and I shall die!"
He bowed his head upon his hands and sobbed. Why had he shown himself? When one was so ugly, he should hide himself and not shock young girls. He cursed himself, furious with his looks. He should have remained for her a sweet music,—nothing but ancient airs descriptive of a mysterious love.
In effect, he vainly breathed forth the liquid tender melodies: Therese no longer listened. She came and went in her room, leaned out of the window, as if he had not been opposite, declaring his love in humble little notes. One day, even, she exclaimed: "Mon Dieu! How annoying that flute is, with its false notes!"
So, in despair, he threw the flute into a drawer, and played no more.
Little Colombel, too, scoffed at Julien. One day, on his way to the office, he had seen Julien at his window practising, and, each time that he passed, he laughed his mean little laugh. Julien knew that the notary's clerk was received at the Marsanne's, and it broke his heart,—not that he was jealous of that shrimp, but because he would have given his life to be for one hour in his place.
Françoise, the mother of the young man, had been for years one of the Marsanne household, and now she took care of Therese. Long ago, the aristocratic young lady and the little peasant had grown up together, and it seemed natural that they should preserve some of their former comradeship. Julien suffered none the less when he met Colombel in the streets with his lips puckered into a thin smile. His repulsion increased when he realized that the shrimp was not bad looking. He had a round cat-like head, but very delicate, pretty, and diabolical, with green eyes and a light curly beard on his soft chin.