"That would be impossible for me," the old man replied. "I have not a trace of the initiative spirit; my indolence is invincible, and I have never, in my whole life, been able to exert any influence upon others. I should be less fitted for it now than ever, especially as it would not be merely a matter of devising a simple plan of organization applicable to the present time, but we must have moral and religious formulas, an exposition of principles and sentiment. I recognize the necessity of sentiment to convince men's minds; but it is not in my line. I have not the faculty of laying my heart bare, and my heart has not enough vitality to impart eloquence to my words. Nor do I think the time has come—you do not think that it has, do you? Very well, I do not propose to disturb your conviction; you are built for difficult enterprises, may you find the opportunity to act! As for myself, I have projects for the future—after my death. Some day, perhaps I will tell you what they are. Look at this beautiful garden that I have created—I have not done it without a purpose—but I want to know you better before explaining my plans; will you forgive me?"
"I bow to your wish, and I am certain beforehand that your predilection for this earthly paradise is not simply the mania of an idle landowner."
"I began in that way, however. My house had become distasteful to me; nothing gratifies indolence and disgust like immutable order, and that is why the house is so carefully kept and orderly. But I care for nothing that it contains, and I may tell you in confidence that I have not slept in it for fifteen years. The chalet where we took our coffee is my real home. There is a bedroom there and a study, which I did not show you and which no one has entered since they were built, not even Martin. Please not mention this to anybody, for perhaps public inquisitiveness would follow me there. It already besieges the park persistently enough on Sundays. All the idlers of the neighborhood stay here until eleven o'clock at night, and I stay away until the closing of the gates compels them to leave. On Monday I rise very late so that the workmen may have time to remove all traces of the invasion before I have seen them. Martin looks out for that. Don't accuse me of misanthropy, although perhaps I deserve the charge to some extent. Try rather to explain the anomaly of a man thoroughly imbued with the necessity of life in common, and yet compelled by his instincts to shun the presence of his fellow-men. I belong to this generation of individual egotists, and that which is a vice in others is a disease in me. There are reasons for this. But I prefer not to discuss them in order that I may not have to recall them."
Emile dared not ask any direct questions, although he resolved that he would discover one by one all Monsieur de Boisguilbault's secrets, or at least all those in which the Châteaubrun family was interested. But he considered that he had won enough victories for one day, and that he must win the marquis's esteem and affection, if possible, before obtaining his full confidence.
He desired simply to obtain access to the library, and the marquis promised to throw it open to him at their next interview, for which, however, they appointed no time. Monsieur de Boisguilbault, perhaps because of a return of his former distrust, wished to see if Emile would come again soon of his own motion.
XVIII
STORM
From that day Emile no longer lived at his parents' house. He was there in the body at night, to be sure, and during some hours of the day; but his mind was more frequently at Boisguilbault and his heart almost always at Châteaubrun.
He went frequently to Boisguilbault, more frequently than he would have done, perhaps, had it not been for the proximity of Châteaubrun and the pretexts afforded by his first visit.
In the first place there were books to carry to Gilberte, and although the marquis gave him permission to draw upon the library at his discretion, he was careful to carry them one by one, so that he might always have an excuse for calling upon her.