Deeply agitated, yet thinking he understood, he interrupted her, and seizing hold of her hands, he repeated:
“Oh, madame! oh, madame!”
But she rose from her seat and released herself. Then she turned down the gas.
“No, that’s enough for to-day. You have some very good ideas, and it is natural I should think of you to put them into execution. Only there will be a deal of worry; we must thoroughly study the project. I know that at heart you are very serious. Think the matter over on your side, and I will think it over on mine. That is why I have named it to you. We can talk about it again later on.”
And things remained thus for weeks. The establishment continued just the same as usual. As Madame Hédouin always maintained her smiling serenity when in Octave’s company, without an allusion to the slightest tender feeling, he affected on his side a similar peace of mind, and he ended by becoming like her, healthfully happy, placing his confidence in the logic of things. She often repeated that sensible things always happened of themselves. Therefore she was never in a hurry. The gossip which commenced to circulate respecting her intimacy with the young man did not in the least affect her. They waited.
In the Rue de Choiseul, therefore, the entire house vowed that the marriage was as good as accomplished. Octave had given up his room to lodge in the Rue Neuve-Saint-Augustin, near “The Ladies’ Paradise.” He no longer visited any one—neither the Campardons nor the Duveyriers, who were quite shocked at the scandal of his amours. Monsieur Gourd himself, whenever he saw him, pretended not to recognize him, so as to avoid having to bow. Only Marie and Madame Juzuer, on the mornings when they met him in the neighborhood, went and stood a moment in some doorway to have a chat with him. Madame Juzeur, who passionately questioned him respecting Madame Hédouin, tried to persuade him to call upon her, so as to be able to talk the matter over nicely; and Marie, who was greatly distressed, complaining of again being in the family way, and who told him of Jules’ amazement and of her parents’ terrible anger. Then, when the rumor of his marriage became more persistent, Octave was surprised to receive a low bow from Monsieur Gourd. Campardon, without exactly making friends again, gave him a cordial nod across the street, whilst Duveyrier, calling one evening to buy some gloves, showed himself most amiable. The entire house was beginning to pardon him.
However, the uneasiness caused by the adulterous act was still there, imperceptible to uneducated people, but most disagreeable to those of refined morals. Auguste obstinately persisted in not taking his wife back, and, so long as Berthe lived with her parents, the scandal would not be effaced—there would ever linger a material vestige of it.
It was Duveyrier especially who, as landlord, carried the burden of this persistent and unmerited misfortune. For some time past Clarisse had been torturing him to such a pitch that he would at times come home to his wife to weep. But the scandal of the adultery had struck him to the heart; he saw, said he, the passer-by look at his house from top to bottom—that house which his father-in-law and he had striven to decorate with every domestic virtue; and, as this sort of thing could not be allowed to last, he talked of purifying the building for his personal honor. Therefore he urged Auguste, in the name of public decency, to become reconciled with his wife. Unfortunately, Auguste resisted, backed up in his rage by Théophile and Valérie, who had definitely installed themselves at the pay-desk, and who were delighted with the existing discord. Then, as matters were going badly at Lyons, and the silk warehouse was in jeopardy for want of capital, Duveyrier conceived a practical idea. The Josserands were probably longing to get rid of their daughter; the thing to do was to offer to take her back, but only on condition that they paid the dowry of fifty thousand francs. Perhaps uncle Bachelard would yield to their entreaties and give the money. At first, Auguste violently refused to be a party to any such arrangement; even were the sum a hundred thousand francs, he would not think it sufficient. Then, becoming very anxious as his April payments drew near, he had given in to the counselor’s arguments, as the latter pleaded the cause of morality and spoke merely of a good action to be done.
When they were agreed, Clotilde selected the Abbé Mauduit for negotiator. It was a delicate matter; only a priest could interfere in it without compromising himself. It so happened that the reverend man was deeply grieved by the deplorable catastrophes which had befallen one of the most interesting households of his parish; and he had already offered his advice, his experience and his authority to put an end to a scandal at which the enemies of religion might take delight. However, when Clotilde spoke to him of the dowry, asking him to be the bearer of Auguste’s conditions to the Josserands, he bowed his head, and maintained a painful silence.
“It is money due that my brother asks for,” repeated she. “It is no bargain, understand. Moreover, my brother insists upon it.”