Madame Baudu still remained motionless. After a short time, she declared with her meditative air: “This marriage with Colomban, I think it would be better to get it over.”
He looked at her, then began walking about again. Certain things came back to his mind. Was it possible that his daughter was falling ill over the shopman? Did she love him so much that she could not wait? Here was another misfortune! It worried him all the more from the fact that he himself had fixed ideas about this marriage. He could never consent to it in the present state of affairs. However, his anxiety softened him.
“Very good,” said he at last, “I'll speak to Colomban.” And without saying another word he continued his walk. Soon afterwards his wife fell off to sleep, quite white, as if dead; but he still kept on walking about. Before getting into bed he drew aside the curtains and glanced outside; on the other side of the street, the gaping windows of the old Hôtel Duvillard showed the workmen moving about in the dazzling glare of the electric light.
The next morning Baudu took Colomban to the further end of the store, on the upper floor, having made up his mind over night what he should say to him. “My boy,” said he “you know I've sold my property at Rambouillet. That will enable us to show good fight. But I should like beforehand to have a talk with you.”
The young man, who seemed to dread the interview, waited with an awkward air. His small eyes twinkled in his large face, and he stood there with his mouth open—a sign with him of profound agitation.
“Just listen to me,” resumed the draper. “When old Hauchecorne left me The Old Elbeuf, the house was prosperous; he himself had received it from old Finet in a satisfactory state. You know my ideas; I should consider it wrong if I passed this family trust to my children in a diminished state; and that's why I've always postponed your marriage with Geneviève. Yes, I was obstinate; I hoped to bring back our former prosperity; I wanted to hand you the books, saying: 'Look here! the year I commenced we sold so much cloth, and this year, the year I retire, we have sold ten thousand or twenty thousand francs' worth more.' In short, you understand, it was a vow I had made to myself, the very natural desire I had to prove that the house had not lost anything in my hands. Otherwise it would seem to me I was robbing you.” His voice was stifled with emotion. He blew his nose to recover a bit, and asked, “You don't say anything?”
But Colomban had nothing to say. He shook his head, and waited, more and more troubled, thinking he could guess what, the governor was aiming at. It was the marriage without further delay. How could he refuse? He would never have the strength. And the other girl, of whom he dreamed at night, devoured by such a flame that he frequently threw himself quite naked on the floor, in the fear of dying of it.
“Now,” continued Baudu, “there's a sum of money that may save us. The situation becomes worse every day, and perhaps by making a supreme effort——In short, I thought it right to warn you. We are going to venture our last stake. If we are beaten, why that will entirely ruin us! But, my poor boy, your marriage must be again postponed, for I don't wish to throw you two all alone into the struggle. That would be too cowardly, wouldn't it?”
Colomban, greatly relieved, had seated himself on a pile of swan-skin flannel. His legs were still trembling. He was afraid of showing his joy, he held down his head, rolling his fingers on his knees.
“You don't say anything?” repeated Baudu.