But a crushing thought came to her mind; she remembered Dufresne’s last words: Edouard loved another woman. It was in the arms of a woman that he had passed that wretched night; he had come home and had not thought of seeking her; it was all over; he had forgotten her, he was unfaithful. That certainty filled the cup of poor Adeline’s despair; it took away her last hope of happiness.
Still bewildered by the day and night that he had passed, Edouard had left Madame de Géran’s house to return home; but a sense of shame, a secret feeling of remorse prevented him from going to his wife. In vain does a man make excuses for himself, unless he has long been addicted to all forms of excess, and accustomed to defy public opinion—he does not commit a culpable act without feeling an inward dissatisfaction, without hearing the reproofs of his conscience. Edouard was still too unused to the paths of vice not to feel the remorse which follows a first sin. A night passed away from home, his wife neglected, a large sum of money lost at play in two days! What fruitful subjects for reflections! Edouard did as most men do who have just committed some foolish act; instead of determining to be more prudent and more orderly in the future, he sought to forget himself, and abandoned himself more ardently than ever to his passions; like those poor wretches who drown themselves for fear the world’s end is at hand.
With Dufresne, Edouard was sure of finding distraction. So it was to his lodgings that he betook himself. Dufresne was alone, absorbed in deep thought. For the first time Murville began to use the familiar form of address; he felt more at his ease with him since he had ceased to be happy in his own family. He shared Dufresne’s principles and his way of looking at things to the full, so that all ceremony was naturally banished between two friends so closely united. Edouard threw himself into a chair and looked at Dufresne, who waited for him to speak first.
“Here I am, my dear fellow; I expected to find you at my house.”
“I went there last evening; but as you didn’t return and I was tired of waiting, I came away.”
“Faith! it is quite as well that you did. You would have waited in vain. I passed the night at Madame de Géran’s. You understand me?”
“Yes, perfectly. I congratulate you; you could not be more fortunate. That woman adores you!”
“Oh! she is mad over me!—that’s the word; she didn’t want me to leave her this morning; I had difficulty in tearing myself from her arms.”
“Be careful; Madame de Géran has intense passions, a fiery brain, an exalted imagination! She is capable of dogging your steps all the time.”
“You enchant me! I like such women!”