“Oh! I won’t cry any more, my dear. If it pleases you, I will see a great deal of company.”
“Oh! I don’t say that; we will see if my plans succeed. Dufresne tells me that it would not be a bad idea for me to give evening parties, punches, with a violin and an écarté table. But don’t mention this yet to your mother,—she is so peculiar!”
“I won’t say anything, my dear.”
Edouard went out to his business, and Adeline remained alone. Thereupon, she gave free vent to her tears, for she could not conceal the fact from herself, that her husband was not the same. Still he loved her tenderly, he was not unfaithful; why then should she be disturbed by a change which was only natural and which nothing could prevent? Eight months of wedded life had not diminished Adeline’s affection. Her love was still as ardent, as exclusive, her caresses as warm and passionate; but a man’s heart needs a respite in its affections; it is unable to love a long while with the same passion; it beats violently and then stops; it blazes and then grows cold; it is a fire which does not burn with equal intensity; a trifle is sufficient to extinguish or rekindle it.
The young wife said all this to herself to console herself; above all, she determined to conceal her grief from her mother; but she could not change with respect to Dufresne; that man aroused in her a feeling of repulsion, which her heart could not explain. And yet he was agreeable, courteous to her; he had never ceased to be respectful in his attentions: at what then could she take offence? She had no idea, but she did not like him, and her glance caused him an embarrassment and confusion which were not natural; she fancied that she detected in him a sort of constraint which she could not define. When she appeared, Dufresne seemed ill at ease, and he left the room if Madame Dolban were present; if chance caused him to be left alone with his friend’s wife, he had nothing to say; but at such times, his eyes followed Adeline’s every movement, and they wore an expression which she could not endure.
Several days after the conversation he had had with his wife, Edouard returned home with a triumphant air; his face was radiant, his eyes gleamed with pleasure.
“What’s the matter, son-in-law, what has happened to you?” said Mamma Germeuil; “you seem very happy.”
“In truth, I am, and I have good reason to be.”
“Of course you will let us share your joy, my dear.”
“Yes, mesdames, you will cease now, I hope, to say that I delude myself with chimeras; by the luckiest chance I have recently become acquainted with a rich foreigner, who proposes to settle in France. He was looking for a large, pleasant house, all furnished, in one of the best quarters of the city; I found one for him; he looked at it, was delighted with it, bought it, and gives me six thousand francs for my trouble; and the seller gives me as much more for my commission. Well! isn’t that rather pleasant? Twelve thousand francs earned in a moment.”