Little by little, however, she ceased to regret far-off lands. The
force of habit was covering her life with a layer of resignation
similar to the lime-stone formation deposited on objects by certain
springs. And a kind of interest for the thousand-and-one little
insignificant things of daily life, a care for the simple, ordinary
everyday occupations, awakened in her heart. A sort of pensive
melancholy, a vague disenchantment with life was growing up in her
mind. What did she lack? What did she want? She did not know. She had
no worldly desires, no thirst for amusement, no longing for
permissible pleasures. What then? Just as old furniture tarnishes in
time, so everything was slowly becoming faded to her eyes, everything
seemed to be fading, to be taking on pale, dreary shades.
Her relations with Julien had completely changed. He seemed to be
quite different since they came back from their honeymoon, like an
actor who has played his part and resumes his ordinary manner. He
scarcely paid any attention to her or even spoke to her. All trace of
love had suddenly disappeared, and he seldom came into her room at
night.
He had taken charge of the money and of the house, changed the leases,
worried the peasants, cut down expenses, and having adopted the
costume of a gentleman farmer, he had lost his polish and elegance as
a fiancé.
He always wore the same suit, although it was covered with spots. It
was an old velveteen shooting jacket with brass buttons, that he had
found among his former wardrobe, and with the carelessness that is
frequent with those who no longer seek to please, he had given up
shaving, and his long beard, badly cut, made an incredible change for
the worse in his appearance. His hands were never cared for, and after
each meal he drank four or five glasses of brandy.
Jeanne tried to remonstrate with him gently, but he had answered her
so abruptly: "Won't you let me alone!" that she never ventured to give
him any more advice.
She had adapted herself to these changes in a manner that surprised
herself. He had become a stranger to her, a stranger whose mind and
heart were closed to her. She constantly thought about it, asking
herself how it was that after having met, loved, married in an impulse
of affection, they should all at once find themselves almost as much
strangers as though they had never shared the same room.
And how was it that she did not feel this neglect more deeply? Was
this life? Had they deceived themselves? Did the future hold nothing
further for her?
If Julien had remained handsome, carefully dressed, elegant, she might
possibly have suffered more deeply.
It had been agreed that after the new year the young couple should
remain alone and that the father and mother should go back to spend a
few months at their house in Rouen. The young people were not to leave
the "Poplars" that winter, so as to get thoroughly settled and to
become accustomed to each other and to the place where all their life
would be passed. They had a few neighbors to whom Julien would
introduce his wife. These were the Brisevilles, the Colteliers and the
Fourvilles.
But the young people could not begin to pay calls because they had not
as yet been able to get a painter to alter the armorial bearings on
the carriage.