The old engraver would not consent to live with his daughter in M. de Brévannes' house during her husband's absence, and Bertha had, therefore, taken up her abode with her father in the Ile Saint Louis, and resumed, in the Rue Poultier, the room she occupied before she was married.
Since his journey to Italy, where he had formed Madame de Hansfeld's acquaintance (as we shall see hereafter), M. de Brévannes' temper had become much soured, and his disposition had grown sombre, irascible, and was often brutal; and Bertha had very frequently suffered acutely from it. These points enumerated, we will now follow M. de Brévannes to his residence after his return from the Opera-ball, where he had been so completely mystified by Madame Beauvoisis, the domino of the chest.
CHAPTER VII
[MADAME DE BRÉVANNES]
The house in which M. de Brévannes occupied the first floor was situated in the Rue Saint Florentin. Utterly indifferent to the enjoyments or little comforts of a well-arranged home, he had simply commanded the upholsterer who furnished them to see no expense spared; and with this unrestricted permission before him, the tradesman employed had done his best to produce the very beau idéal of a furnished lodging, that is to say, he had given to the residence of M. de Brévannes the most chill, comfortless, and commonplace aspect imaginable. Nothing that marked a taste, pursuit, or personal convenience, was to be seen in the dreary chambers; not a portrait, a picture,—not a vestige of the fine arts embellished the spacious rooms. The only one exempted from the triste vulgarity that predominated over the others was a small drawing-room especially appropriated to Bertha, and in which she passed her entire days.
Spite of the advanced hour of the night, or rather morning, for it was now four o'clock, it is into this very chamber we are about to introduce the reader.
Although the continual absences of M. de Brévannes might well have accustomed his gentle partner to them, yet Madame de Brévannes still experienced too much anxiety on his account ever to retire to rest until well assured of his safe return.
It was then four o'clock in the morning, and Bertha, seated in an arm-chair, her clasped hands reposing on her lap, was mechanically gazing on the expiring embers which flickered on the hearth. A lamp placed on a small table beside her, on which lay a half open book, shone full on the delicate features of the pensive wife, and cast a soft glow upon the glossy bands of her rich chestnut hair, which, braided so as merely to display the finely formed ear, with its roseate tip, was plaited in with the luxuriant masses, ornamenting the back of her small and classically shaped head.
The most striking characteristic of the lovely countenance of Bertha was its look of almost angelic sweetness, and when she raised her beautiful, large, blue eyes, it was impossible to resist their gentle influence. Her somewhat serious mouth seemed rather intended to express the smile of affection and universal benevolence than the noisy laugh of extreme gaiety, while the meditative attitude in which she sat displayed to advantage the graceful roundness of her long white throat.
Bertha wore a dress of light grey silk, whose subdued shade harmonised admirably with the delicacy of her transparent complexion. On one side of the fire-place stood a pianoforte loaded with music, and over the mantel-piece were suspended two portraits of unequal sizes, representing the father and mother of Bertha. A considerable number of plain black frames, containing copper-plate engravings, the works of Pierre Raimond, were hung around the small chamber, the walls of which were covered with embossed red paper, that gave it an air of lightness and cheerfulness very different from the rest of the apartments; and on the chimney-piece stood an old enamelled clock and two small blue and white candlesticks of Limoges enamel, which had once belonged to Bertha's mother, who had received them from her husband as a wedding present.