September passed away in this manner, in the great calm of the house emptied of its occupants by the summer months. The people of the second floor had gone to the seaside in Spain, which caused Monsieur Gourd, full of pity, to shrug his shoulders: what a fuss! as though the most distinguished people were not satisfied with Trouville! The Duveyriers, since the beginning of Gustave’s holidays, had been at their country house at Villeneuve-Saint-Georges. Even the Josserands went and spent a fortnight at a friend’s, near Pontoise, spreading a rumor beforehand that they were going to some watering-place.
This clearance, these deserted apartments, the staircase slumbering in a greater silence than ever, seemed to Octave to offer less danger; and he argued and so wearied Berthe that she at last received him in her room one evening whilst Auguste was away at Lyons. But this meeting also nearly took a bad turn. Madame Josserand, who had returned home two days before, was seized with such an attack of indigestion after dining out, that Hortense, filled with anxiety, went down-stairs for her sister. Fortunately, Rachel was just finishing scouring her saucepans, and she was able to let the young man out by the servants’ staircase. On the following days, Berthe availed herself of that alarm to again refuse him everything.
Besides, they were so foolish as not to reward the servant. She attended to them in her cold way, and with her superior respect of a girl who hears and sees nothing; only, as madame was forever crying after money, and as Monsieur Octave already spent too much in presents, she curled her lip more and more in that wretched establishment, where the mistress’ lover did not even present her with ten sous when he stayed there.
Meanwhile, Madame Juzeur wept with that lovesick darling who could only gaze on his mistress from a distance; and she gave him the very best advice. Octave’s passion reached such a pitch that he thought one day of imploring her to lend him her apartment; no doubt she would not have refused, but he feared rousing Berthe’s indignation by his indiscretion. He also had the idea of utilizing Saturnin; perhaps the madman would watch over them like a faithful dog in some out-of-the-way room; only, he displayed such a fantastical humor, at one time overwhelming his sister’s lover with the most awkward caresses, at another, sulking with him and casting suspicious glances gleaming with a sudden hatred. One could almost have thought him jealous, with the nervous and violent jealousy of a woman.
Just as September was drawing to a close, and the lodgers were on the point of returning home, a wild idea came to Octave in the midst of his torment. Rachel had asked her permission to sleep out on one of the Tuesdays that her master would be at Lyons, in order to enable her to attend the wedding of one of her sisters in the country; and it was merely a question of passing the night in the servant’s room, where no one in the world would think of seeking them. Berthe, feeling deeply hurt at the suggestion, at first displayed the greatest repugnance; but he implored her with tears in his eyes; he talked of leaving Paris, where he suffered too much; he confused and wearied her with such a number of arguments, that, scarcely knowing what she did, she ended by consenting. All was settled. The Tuesday evening, after dinner, they took a cup of tea at the Josserands’, so as to dispel any suspicions. Trublot, Gueulin, and uncle Bachelard were there; and, very late in the evening, Duveyrier, who occasionally came to sleep at the Rue de Choiseul, on account of business which he pretended he had to attend to early in the morning, even put in an appearance. Octave made a show of joining freely in the conversation of these gentlemen; then, when midnight struck, he withdrew, and went and locked himself in Rachel’s room, where Berthe was to join him an hour later when all the house was asleep.
Upstairs, the arrangement of the room occupied him during the first half-hour. He had provided himself with clean bed linen, and he proceeded to remake the bed, awkwardly, and occupying a long while over it, through fear of being overheard. Then, like Trublot, he sat down on a box and tried to wait patiently. The servants came up to bed, one by one; and through the thin partitions the sounds of women undressing themselves could be heard. One o’clock struck, then the quarter, then the half hour past. He began to feel anxious; why was Berthe so long in coming? She must have left the Josserands’ about one o’clock at the latest; and it could not take her more than ten minutes to go to her rooms and come out again by the servants’ staircase. When two o’clock struck, he imagined all sorts of catastrophes. At length, he heaved a sigh of relief, on fancying he recognized her footstep. And he opened the door, in order to light her. But surprise rooted him to the spot. Opposite Adèle’s door, Trublot, bent almost double, was looking through the key-hole, and jumped up, frightened by that sudden light.
“What! it’s you again!” murmured Octave, with annoyance.
Trublot began to laugh, without appearing the least surprised at finding him there at such a time of night.
“Just fancy,” explained he, very softly, “that fool Adèle hasn’t given me her key, and she has gone and joined Duveyrier in his room. Eh? what’s the matter with you? Ah! you didn’t know Duveyrier slept with her. It is so, my dear fellow. He really is reconciled with his wife, who, however, only resigns herself to him now and then; so he falls back upon Adèle. It’s convenient, whenever he comes to Paris.”
He interrupted himself, and stooped down again, then added, between his clenched teeth.