Delaherche was not at all stuck-up; with a garrulous taste for popularity he was fond of chatting with the poor and the humble. 'Weiss's address?' said he. 'That's funny—send the soldier here!'
Jean entered, so worn-out that he was fairly staggering. He started with surprise on perceiving his captain seated at table between two ladies, and drew back his hand, which he had already thrust forward in a mechanical way so that he might support himself by grasping a chair. Then he briefly answered the questions put to him by the manufacturer, who began playing the good-natured fellow, the soldier's friend. In a few words Jean explained his intimacy with Maurice, and the reason why he wished to find him.
'This is a corporal of my company,' at last said the captain by way of curtailing the explanations, and in his turn he began to question Jean, wishing to ascertain what had become of the regiment. And when Jean related that the colonel, and such men as remained with him, had just been seen crossing the town for the purpose of camping on the northern side, Gilberte again spoke over hastily, with the vivacity of a pretty woman who seldom takes the trouble to reflect: 'My uncle? Oh! why didn't he come to breakfast here? We would have had a room got ready for him. Suppose we send for him?'
But Madame Delaherche, senior, waved her hand with a gesture of sovereign authority. The blood of the old burgesses of the frontier cities coursed in her veins; she was endowed with all the masculine virtues of rigid patriotism; and she only broke her uncompromising silence to exclaim: 'Let Monsieur de Vineuil remain where he is; he is doing his duty.'
This made the others feel uncomfortable, and Delaherche carried the captain away into his study that he might rest, as arranged, upon the sofa there; whilst Gilberte, on her side, without heeding her mother-in-law's lesson, went off like a bird shaking its wings, as blithe and as gay as ever, despite the storm. Meanwhile, the servant to whose care Jean had been committed conducted him across the yard of the factory, and through a maze of passages and staircases.
Weiss lived in the Rue des Voyards, but the house, which belonged to Delaherche, communicated in the rear with the monumental edifice in the Rue Maqua. The Rue des Voyards was then one of the most confined streets in Sedan, being, in fact, simply a narrow, damp lane, darkened by the high rampart which it skirted. The eaves of the lofty frontages almost touched one another, and the passages were as black as vaults, especially at the end where rose the high college wall. Weiss, however, occupying a third floor, rent and firing free, found himself quite comfortable there, especially as he was so near his office, whither he could betake himself in his slippers without having to appear in the streets. He was a happy man since he had married Henriette, whom he had long desired to make his wife at the time when he had known her at Le Chêne, at the house of her father, the tax collector, whose housewife she had been since she was six years old, having had to take the place of the mother who had died in giving her birth. Weiss, meantime, had obtained a situation at the local refinery, almost in a menial capacity, but he had gradually educated himself, and raised himself, by dint of hard work, to the position of accountant. Yet he only succeeded in realising his dream through the death of Henriette's father and the folly of her brother Maurice, whose servant she had in some measure become, sacrificing herself in the hope of making a gentleman of him. Brought up like a little Cinderella, knowing how to read and write, but nothing more, she had just sold the old house and the furniture, without, however, realising sufficient to defray the cost of Maurice's folly, when Weiss, the worthy fellow, came forward and offered her all he possessed, including his strong arms and his heart, and she had consented to marry him, touched to tears by his affection and—calm, virtuous, reasoning little woman that she was—penetrated with tender esteem for him, in default of passionate love. And now fortune was smiling on them, for Delaherche had talked of giving Weiss an interest in the business, and their happiness would be complete as soon as children were born to them.
'Take care,' said the servant to Jean; 'the stairs are very steep.'
The corporal, indeed, was stumbling up the flights in profound darkness, but all at once a door was hastily flung open, and a ray of light streamed over the steps. Then he heard a gentle voice exclaiming, 'It is he.'
'Madame Weiss,' called the servant, 'here's a soldier asking for you.'