Madame Juzeur, who was the last to leave, enveloped them both in a tender and discreet smile. And when Octave, highly excited, had reached his cold chamber, he looked at himself for an instant in the glass, and he thought it worth while to make the attempt!
Meanwhile, Madame Josserand was wandering about the deserted room, without saying a word, and as though carried away by some gale of wind. She had violently closed the piano and turned out the last lamp; then, passing into the diningroom, she began to blow out the candles so vigorously that the chandelier quite shook. The sight of the despoiled table covered with dirty plates and empty cups, increased her rage; and she turned round it, casting terrible glances at her daughter Hortense, who, quietly sitting down, was devouring the piece of burnt cake.
“You are putting yourself in a fine state again, mamma,” said the latter. “Is it not going on all right, then? For myself, I am satisfied. He is purchasing some chemises for her to enable her to leave.”
The mother shrugged her shoulders.
“Eh? you say that this proves nothing. Very good, only steer your ship as well as I steer mine. Here now is a cake which may flatter itself it is a precious bad one! They must be a wretched lot to swallow such stuff.”
Monsieur Josserand, who was always worn out by his wife’s parties, was reposing on a chair; but he was in dread of an encounter, he feared that Madame Josserand might drive him before her in her furious promenade; and he drew close to Bachelard and Gueulin, who were seated at the table in front of Hortense. The uncle, on awaking, had discovered a decanter of rum. He was emptying it, and bitterly alluding to the twenty francs.
“It is not for the money,” he kept repeating to his nephew, “it is the way the thing was done. You know how I behave to women: I would give them the shirt off my back, but I do not like them to ask me for anything. The moment they begin to ask, it annoys me, and I don’t even chuck them a radish.”
And, as his sister was about to remind him of his promises: “Be quiet, Eléonore! I know what I have to do for the child. But, you see, when a woman asks, it is more than I can stand. I have never been able to keep friends with one, have I now, Gueulin? And besides, there is really such little respect shown me! Léon has not even deigned to wish me many happy returns of the day.”
Madame Josserand resumed her walk, clinching her fists. It was true, there was Léon too, who promised and then disappointed her like the others. There was one who would not sacrifice an evening to help to marry off his sisters! She had just discovered a sweet biscuit, fallen behind one of the flower vases, and was locking it up in a drawer when Berthe, who had gone to release Saturnin, brought him back with her. She was quieting him, whilst he, haggard and with a mistrustful look in his eyes, was searching the corners, with the feverish excitement of a dog that has been long shut up.
“How stupid he is!” said Berthe, “he thinks that I have just been married. And he is seeking for the husband! Ah! my poor Saturnin, you may seek. I tell you that it has come to nothing! You know very well that it never comes to anything.”