The month went by, and Herr von Gartlauben had occasion to render a few more little services. The Prussian authorities had reorganised the various governmental departments and a German sub-prefect had been installed at Sedan, though this did not prevent the vexatious measures from continuing, albeit the new functionary showed himself comparatively reasonable. Among the many difficulties which constantly arose between the Commandature and the Municipal Council, a frequent cause of trouble was the requisition of vehicles; and quite a to-do arose one morning when Delaherche was unable to send his calash and pair to the Sub-Prefecture. The mayor was momentarily arrested, and the manufacturer would have been sent to keep him company in the citadel, had it not been for Captain von Gartlauben, whose intervention at once appeased the wrath of the authorities. On another occasion, at his intercession, the town was granted a delay for the payment of a fine of thirty thousand francs imposed upon it as a punishment for its alleged dilatoriness in rebuilding the Villette bridge, a bridge destroyed by the Prussians themselves—altogether a deplorable business, which half ruined Sedan and turned it topsy-turvy. It was, however, more particularly after the fall of Metz that Delaherche contracted a debt of gratitude towards the captain. The frightful tidings fell like a thunderbolt upon the inhabitants, annihilating their last hopes; and the very next week the town was again burdened with passing troops, all the torrent of men that streamed down from Metz—Prince Frederick Charles's army directing its course towards the Loire, General von Manteuffel's army marching on Amiens and Rouen, and other corps on their way to reinforce the besiegers around Paris. For several days the houses were full of soldiers, the bakers' and butchers' shops were swept bare to the last crumb, the last bone, whilst the paving of the streets exhaled a greasy stench such as might have followed the passage of vast migrating flocks and herds. The factory in the Rue Maqua alone did not suffer from this irruption of human cattle, protected as it was by a friendly hand, and required to shelter merely a few well-bred officers.
It thus happened that Delaherche ended by departing from his frosty demeanour. The middle-class families of the town had shut themselves up in their most remote rooms, avoiding all intercourse with the officers quartered upon them. But with his irrepressible longing to talk, please, and enjoy life, this part of the antagonist sulking after defeat caused the manufacturer intense suffering. His large bleak, silent, house, whose inmates lived apart from one another, swayed by unbending rancour, made him feel quite miserable. And so one day he began by stopping Herr von Gartlauben on the stairs to thank him for the services he had rendered. Then, little by little, they fell into the habit of exchanging a few words whenever they met; and at last the Prussian captain found himself one evening in the manufacturer's private room, smoking a cigar and chatting in friendly fashion, whilst comfortably seated beside the fireplace, where some large oak logs were burning. Gilberte did not show herself during the first fortnight, and the captain pretended to be ignorant of her very existence, although at the slightest sound he would at once glance towards the door of the adjoining room. He seemed desirous of making his host forget that he was one of the conquerors, showed himself unprejudiced and liberal-minded, and was always ready to laugh and jest whenever the conversation turned on any ridiculous requisitions. One day, for instance, when a demand had been made for a coffin and a bandage, this bandage and coffin vastly amused him. With regard to other things, coal, oil, milk, sugar, butter, bread, meat, to say nothing of clothing, stoves, and lamps—in a word all the necessaries of daily life, he simply shrugged his shoulders: What would you have? These demands were vexatious, no doubt, and he even admitted that they were excessive; but then this was wartime and the troops must needs live in the occupied territory. Delaherche, whom the incessant requisitions exasperated, spoke out frankly concerning them, passing them in review every evening, in much the same way as he might have gone through his household accounts. Still they only had one lively discussion together, which was in reference to a fine of a million francs which the Prussian prefect of Rethel had levied upon the department of the Ardennes under pretence of compensating Germany for the losses she was alleged to have sustained by the operations of the French fleet and the expulsion of the German subjects resident in France. Of this amount Sedan was required to contribute 42,000 francs, and Delaherche did his utmost to make his lodger understand that this was an iniquitous demand, the town being differently circumstanced to others, since it had already undergone such excessive suffering. The result of all these discussions was to increase the intimacy of the two men; the manufacturer, on his side, was delighted at having been able to shake off his thoughts by pouring forth a flood of words, whilst the Prussian was pleased with himself for having given proof of a truly Parisian urbanity.
One evening Gilberte came into the room with her gay giddy air, and at sight of the captain stopped short, affecting surprise. Herr von Gartlauben rose from his chair, and with commendable tact withdrew almost immediately. But on the following day he found Gilberte already installed in the room, and thereupon settled himself in his usual seat by the fireside. Some delightful evenings followed, invariably spent in this private room instead of in the drawing-room, wherein lay a nice distinction with regard to the character of the intercourse. Later on even, when the young woman had consented to play the piano to gratify the captain, who was extremely fond of music, she alone would step into the adjoining salon, leaving the door open. During those bitter winter evenings the old oaks of the Ardennes crackled and blazed in the lofty fireplace, and about ten o'clock they would drink a cup of tea, whilst chatting together in the warm atmosphere of that cosy room. And, plainly enough, Herr von Gartlauben had fallen head over heels in love with that sprightly young woman, who flirted with him just as in days gone by she had flirted with Captain Beaudoin's friends at Charleville. He now took additional care of his person, displayed exaggerated gallantry, and contented himself with the slightest favour, above all things anxious that he might not be taken for a barbarian—one of those gross-minded soldiers who cannot treat a woman with respect.
Thus life had, so to say, a double aspect in that vast, black house of the Rue Maqua. Whilst Edmond, the wounded Chérubin with the pretty face, returned monosyllabic answers to Delaherche's ceaseless chatter at meal-time, and blushed like a hobbledehoy if Gilberte merely asked him to pass the salt; whilst Herr von Gartlauben, with enraptured eyes, sat in the study of an evening listening to one of Mozart's sonatas, which the young woman was playing for his especial benefit in the drawing-room, the adjacent apartment, where Colonel de Vineuil and Madame Delaherche senior spent their time, remained quite silent, with the shutters always closed, the lamp always burning, as though it were a tomb lighted by a taper. December had buried Sedan under the snow, and the despair-fraught tidings from the scene of war were as though stifled by the bitter cold. After General Ducrot's defeat at Champigny, after the loss of Orleans, there remained but one sombre hope, that the soil of France might become an avenging soil, an exterminating soil to devour and swallow up the victors. Ah! that the snow might fall in thicker and thicker flakes, that the ground might rend and open under the biting frost, so that the whole of Germany might be entombed within it! And now a fresh sorrow was wringing old Madame Delaherche's heart. Whilst passing Gilberte's door one night when her son was from home, called away to Belgium by some business matter or other, she had heard a low murmur of voices, mingled with suppressed laughter. She staggered back into her own room, quite aghast, overcome by the horror of the abominable thing which she suspected. The voice she had heard could have been none other than the Prussian's; she had already fancied that she had detected glances of intelligence passing between him and Gilberte, and the thought of this supreme shame utterly overwhelmed her. Ah! that woman whom her son had brought into the house despite all her remonstrances, that abandoned woman whom she had already pardoned once by not speaking out after Captain Beaudoin's death! Yet it was all certainly beginning again, and this time the infamy was unparalleled! What should she do? Such monstrous behaviour could not be allowed to continue. The seclusion in which the old lady lived now became fraught with more poignant sorrow, and she spent long days in waging a frightful combat with herself. She would enter the colonel's room looking yet more gloomy than had been her wont, and sit there for hours in silence, with tears in her eyes; and he would gaze at her and interpret her increased sadness as signifying that France had sustained yet another defeat.
It was in the midst of this crisis that Henriette arrived one morning at the house in the Rue Maqua with the view of enlisting the Delaherches' sympathies in favour of uncle Fouchard. She had heard people speak smilingly of Gilberte's all-powerful influence over Captain von Gartlauben, and consequently felt somewhat embarrassed when on ascending the stairs she encountered Madame Delaherche senior, who was returning to the colonel's room. However, she deemed it advisable to acquaint the old lady with the object of her visit.
'Oh! madame,' said she, 'if you would only be kind enough to assist me! My uncle is in a terrible position; they talk of sending him to Germany.'
Much as the old lady liked Henriette, she could not restrain an angry gesture: 'But I am powerless to help you, my dear child. It is of no use applying to me.' And then, despite the young woman's evident distress, she added: 'Your visit is very ill-timed; my son is going to Brussels this evening. Besides, he has no more influence than I have. Apply to my daughter-in-law, she can do everything.'
Then off she went, leaving Henriette thunderstruck, fully convinced that she was falling into the midst of a family drama. On the previous evening, indeed, Madame Delaherche senior had resolved to communicate her suspicions to her son before his departure for Belgium, whither he was going to negotiate a large purchase of coal, in the hope of being able to start his power-looms again. She would never allow that abominable intrigue to be carried on during his absence, under the same roof as herself. And before speaking out she only wished to make quite certain that he would not again defer his departure as he had been doing, day after day, during an entire week. The course she proposed to take meant, she realised it, the downfall of the entire house, the Prussian driven away, the young woman also thrown into the street and her name ignominiously placarded on the walls, as had been threatened would be done with regard to every Frenchwoman who might yield to the advances of a German.
When Gilberte perceived Henriette she gave a cry of delight. 'Ah! how glad I am to see you! It seems so long since you went away, and all these dreadful things make one feel so old!'