Marcel was deceived by appearances. Seeing that she was so placid mentally, and mistaking that sudden disappearance of the will for the symptom of a struggle between a mighty will-power and nature itself, he sought the remedy where it was not. He turned his attention to her physical health. He hired a small country house at Nanterre, and, giving Julie to understand that he had purchased it for her, carried her thither; then, having made sure of Camille's discretion and devotion to her mistress, he sent for her. He supplied her with enough money to enable her to hire a peasant woman who could cook, and he made arrangements that the countess's table should be daintier and more substantial than that at the convent. The little house was located in an airy spot, with a garden of considerable size surrounded by walls, and with not sufficient shade to keep the sun from doing its healthful work. He supplied the salon with books, little articles to provide occupation or amusement, and Julie's harp—every woman in those days performed on that instrument more or less. Marcel having taught her her lesson, Camille deceived her mistress as to what had happened at the hôtel D'Estrelle, and as to the means at her disposal. She made her believe that everything was extremely cheap at Nanterre, and that she could afford to live comfortably without exceeding the limits of her small income. Julie wished to be poor and to owe nothing to Monsieur Antoine. That was the only point on which Marcel had found her resistance invincible. He had been forced to lie, and to let her believe that Monsieur Antoine had taken possession of her house, her diamonds and everything that belonged to her.
The diamonds were in Marcel's custody, the house was kept in excellent condition. The horses were in the stable, well cared for, and the carriages in the carriage-house. The servants had been paid off and discharged, under orders to return, upon advantageous terms, as soon as Madame d'Estrelle should return. The concierge took care of the house, groomed and exercised the horses. His wife dusted the rooms, opened and closed the windows. Monsieur Antoine's head gardener attended to the flowers and lawns. Monsieur Antoine himself visited the place every morning. The pavilion, after Madame Thierry had gone away, was closed and silent. But nothing was changed in Julie's abode. Every piece of furniture was in its place, and the sun shone through the windows of her empty salon.
Two months had passed since the day that Julie left the hôtel. Uncle Antoine was simply the caretaker and painstaking administrator of the property. He had retained his privilege of being admitted there, pending the time when it should please Julie to resume possession. He desired to return it to her intact, and to reëmploy such of her servants as she might wish to have about her. The concierge was ordered to inform visitors that madame continued to own her house for the present, and that she had gone to inspect her estate in the Beauvoisis and to make some definite plans for the future; that is to say, Monsieur Antoine, in concert with Marcel, having in view the what will people say? represented Madame d'Estrelle's situation as the continuation of an armistice with her creditors; and as she had been in that situation for more than two years already, that was really the most plausible explanation. They would see about inventing a perfectly convincing one when Julie should consent to return.
It is true none the less that Julie's friends, the old Duc de Quesnoy, madame la présidente, Madame Desmorges, Abbé de Nivières and the rest, began to be much surprised that they did not hear from her. Her sudden departure had been accepted with reasonably good grace, thanks to the hints adroitly strewn about by the solicitor; but why did she not write? She must be very lazy; or perhaps she was ill? Was she really in the Beauvoisis?—But the old duke had to go to take the waters of Vichy; madame la présidente was engrossed by the marriage of her daughter; the abbé was like the household cat—he forgot everything when the fire on the hearth died out. Madame Desmorges was indolence personified. The Marquise d'Estrelle alone would have been likely to investigate the subject seriously, but her malice was suddenly paralyzed by a sharp threat from Monsieur Antoine to disclose her conduct and demand his money, if she ventured to make the slightest investigation or the faintest derogatory remark concerning Julie.
As will be seen, Monsieur Antoine behaved with extraordinary fairness, prudence and loyalty, in everything that concerned the reputation, the comfort and the pecuniary interests of his victim. He listened to Marcel's advice, discussed it with him as if the question at issue were what it was best to do for his own daughter, and followed it exactly. Touching the fundamental question as to which Marcel did his utmost to bend him, the union of the two lovers, he was inflexible; and as he lost his temper when Marcel pressed him too hard on that subject, sulked and shut the door in his face, Marcel was compelled, in his client's interest, to submit to delays of which he could see no end.
Madame Thierry and Julien were luxuriously established in their pretty cottage, for the best part of the furniture had been left there, as well as divers artistic objects of considerable value which Uncle Antoine had disdained to notice because he had no idea of their value. Julien had no confidence in this unexpected generosity, for which he had been warned not to thank Monsieur Antoine, and which was surrounded with inexplicable circumstances. He was so disturbed about it that, except for the duty of sacrificing his own pride to his mother's repose, he would have refused everything. Their position was excellent from a material standpoint. The income of five thousand francs enabled them to live modestly without awaiting anxiously the avails of Julien's feverish labor at the end of each week. Madame Thierry could not help feeling the most heartfelt delight in being restored to her house, her most cherished memories, her former habits and connections. The latter were less numerous than in the days when her table was always laid, but they were more reliable. Her only true friends came forward once more. Knowing that she had no more than was absolutely necessary, they exerted themselves to provide an advantageous market for Julien's pictures. Not until one has ceased to suffer from poverty can one make the most of his talent. Julien no longer needed to hurry; his customers came unsolicited, through the intervention of enlightened and kindly friends. He consoled his mother for the secret dissatisfaction she still felt in being Monsieur Antoine's debtor, by saying to her:
"Never fear, I will pay your debt to him, against his will, if need be; it is simply a question of time. Be happy; you see that I am not disturbed by Julie's silence, but that I am waiting confidently and calmly."
Julien had changed neither in bearing, nor manner, nor feature, since the fatal day of Julie's disappearance. At first he had believed what Marcel said; but, as no letter arrived from his mistress, and as he knew beyond doubt, as the result of inquiries he had made secretly, that she was not in the Beauvoisis, he had gradually detected a part of the horrible truth. Julie was free, for Marcel had sworn it on his honor, again and again; but as to certain other points he did not swear. He asserted nothing; he simply left them to their presumptions. He refused with shrewd persistence to listen to any confidential communication, which made it easier for him to evade many questions. Monsieur Antoine's machiavelian plan was too eccentric to be fathomed by Julien's straightforward mind. He did not suppose that jealousy was possible without love, and he would have considered that he insulted Julie's image by admitting that the old man was in love with her. The old man was not in love, that is certain; but he was as jealous as a tiger of Julien, and jealousy without love is the most implacable form of jealousy. Julien believed that he was mad. Can anyone divine the schemes of a madman?
But might not those schemes, whatever they were, affect Julie's determination?
"No!" said Julien to himself, "pecuniary consideration cannot have influenced that noble heart. Julie wishes to break with me; she chooses to bring about the rupture in silence. It is painful to her, but she considers it necessary. She trembled for her reputation; the marchioness threatened to ruin her, and her friends must have succeeded in convincing her that she could never rehabilitate herself after marrying a plebeian. Such is the opinion of society. Julie fancied for a moment that she was superior to such prejudices; her love for me led her to presume too far on her strength. She has a noble nature, but her mind is a little weak perhaps, and now the force of her character is being exerted to bring about the triumph of the prejudice which kills love. Poor dear Julie! She must suffer, because she is kind-hearted—because she understands my suffering. So far as she is concerned, I feel certain that she desires to forget me."