Pauline was astonished. "What! you love him?" And, after a pause, she asked: "So it's all to make him marry you?"
But at this, the young girl sprang up, quite confused: "Marry me! Oh, no! Oh! I assure you that I have never wished for anything of the kind! No, never has such an idea entered my head; and you know what a horror I have of all falsehood!"
"Well, dear," resumed Pauline, kindly, "you couldn't have acted otherwise, if such had been your intention. All this must come to an end, and it is very certain that it can only finish by a marriage so far as you are concerned. I must tell you that everybody here has the same idea: yes, they are convinced that you are riding the high horse, in order to make him take you to church. Dear me! what a funny girl you are!"
And then she had to console Denise, who had again sunk down with her head on the bolster, sobbing and declaring that she would certainly go away, since they attributed to her all sorts of things that had never even crossed her mind. No doubt, when a man loved a woman he ought to marry her. But she asked for nothing, she had made no calculations, she simply begged that she might be allowed to live quietly, with her joys and sorrows, like other people. Yes, she would go away.
At the same moment Mouret was crossing the premises below, seeking to forget his thoughts by visiting the works once more. Several months had elapsed, the façade now reared its monumental proportions behind the vast hoarding which concealed it from the public. Quite an army of decorators, marble-cutters, mosaic-workers, and others, were at work. The central group above the door was being gilded, whilst the pedestals destined to support statues of the manufacturing cities of France, were being fixed on the acroteria. Along the Rue du Dix-Décembre, lately opened to the public, a crowd of idlers now stood from morning till night, looking up, seeing nothing, but nevertheless interested in the marvels related of this façade, the inauguration of which was expected to revolutionize Paris. And it was beside this new building full of the fever of work, amidst the artists putting the finishing touches to the realization of his dream as commenced by the masons, that Mouret more bitterly than ever realized the vanity of his fortune. The thought of Denise suddenly came upon him, that thought which incessantly pierced him with a flame, like the shooting of an incurable pain. And then he ran away, unable to find a word of satisfaction, fearful lest he should display his tears, and leaving behind him the disgust of triumph. That façade, which was at last erected, seemed but trifling in his eyes, very much like one of those walls of sand that children build, and it might have been prolonged from one end of the city to the other, elevated to the starry sky and yet would not have filled the void of his heart, which only the "yes" of a mere child could satisfy.
When Mouret returned to his office he was almost choking with sobs. What did she want? He dared not offer her money now; but the confused idea of marriage presented itself amidst his revolts. And, in the debility of his powerlessness, his tears began to flow. He was indeed very unhappy.
[CHAPTER XIII.]
One morning in November, Denise was giving her first orders in the department when the Baudus' servant came to tell her that Mademoiselle Geneviève had passed a very bad night, and wished to see her immediately. For some time the poor girl had been getting weaker and weaker, and had been obliged to take to her bed two days before.
"Say I am coming at once," replied Denise, feeling very anxious.