"That's enough, monsieur, and I have only one other word to say; and that is that in case the girl should suit me, and I should suit her too, I should be too poor at this moment to go to housekeeping."
"We have already anticipated that contingency. I would assist you to make a position for yourself. For example, you undertake to work for me for a certain time, and I make you an advance of five thousand francs on your salary, and a bonus of five thousand francs in addition, if necessary."
"This is no longer a jest, a conjecture, I suppose?" said Galuchet, scratching his head harder than ever.
"I don't often jest, as you know, and this time I am not jesting at all."
"Very good, monsieur; you are too kind to me. I will plant myself beside Monsieur Emile, and he will be very shrewd if I lose sight of him!"
"He will be shrewder than you, and that will not be difficult," thought Monsieur Cardonnet as soon as Galuchet had retired; "but a rival of your sort will be enough to make him feel humiliated by his choice, very soon; and if she prefers a dull lout like you for a husband to a handsome chance suitor like him, he will have received a useful lesson. In that event a trifling sacrifice for Monsieur Galuchet's establishment would not be draining the sea dry, especially as that would keep him in my service and cut short his ambition to leave me. But that is the worst possible result of my plan, and Galuchet has twenty chances to one of being shown the door sooner or later. Meanwhile I shall have had time to think of something better, and I shall at all events have succeeded in worrying Emile, in disenchanting him, in fastening to his sides an enemy whom he will hardly know how to combat—ennui in the shape of Constant Galuchet."
Cardonnet's idea did not lack depth, and if it had not been too soon or too late for Emile to renounce his illusions, it might have been successful. Any sort of competition stimulates vulgar minds, but a refined mind suffers from an unworthy rivalry. An exalted nature will infallibly be disgusted with the being who takes pleasure in the homage of stupidity; the mere fact that the object of his adoration tolerates such homage too patiently may be enough to cause him to blush and take himself away. But Cardonnet reckoned without Gilberte's pride.
Emile returned from his excursion more inflamed with passion than ever, and in such a state of blissful enthusiasm that it seemed to him impossible that he should not triumph over everything. The generous Gilberte had powerfully assisted his illusion by sharing it, and therein she had shown herself, by her lack of prudence and her openness of heart, the worthy child of Antoine. Emile might well have reproached himself, however, for having gone so far with her without having first made sure of Monsieur Cardonnet's consent. That was a terrible imprudence; indeed it was culpable rashness; for, unless a miracle should happen, he could reckon on his father's refusal. But Emile was in that state of delirious excitement in which one reckons on miracles and deems himself almost a god because he is loved.
However, he returned to Gargilesse without having made up his mind at what moment he would announce his sentiments to his family; for Gilberte had insisted that he should do nothing suddenly, and had received his promise to begin by gradually appealing to the affection of his parents, by governing his conduct in accordance with their wishes. Thus Emile was to make amends for an absence which had doubtless caused them some anxiety, by staying with them all the rest of the week and working zealously at whatever his father chose to give him to do. "You must not come to see us until next Sunday," Gilberte had said when they parted, "and then we will arrange our plans for the following week." The poor child felt that she must live from day to day, and, like Emile, she derived infinite pleasure from caressing in her thoughts the mystery of a love of which they alone realized the charm and the depth.
Emile kept his word. He did not absent himself from home during the week, and contented himself with writing Monsieur de Boisguilbault an affectionate letter to set his mind at rest concerning his sentiments, in case the suspicious old man should take alarm because he did not see him. He followed his father like a shadow; he even asked him for employment, and devoted himself to the construction of the factory like one who took the deepest interest in the success of the undertaking. But, as it is not natural to do violence to one's own heart for long, it was impossible for him to push the indolent workmen. Monsieur Cardonnet derived no sort of benefit from the employment of men of that description. They lacked energy, and the rivalry of the more active produced discouragement in them instead of emulation. They were well paid, but, as they saw, from the master's dissatisfaction, that they would not be retained long, they determined to make the most of the present, and consequently economized in their food. When Emile saw them sitting on the damp stones, with their feet in the mud, eating a piece of black bread and raw onions, like the Hebrew slaves employed in building the Pyramids, he had such a feeling of compassion for them that he would have preferred giving them his own blood to drink, to abandoning them to that slow death of toil and starvation.