“Yes.”
“And did you stay with your mamma while she was playing music?”
“No, because mamma said that I was making too much noise; she sent me to play in the hall with my doll.”
I felt a weight at my heart; and for a long time I was silent. Evidently my little Henriette divined that I was unhappy, for she looked timidly at me and said nothing. I kissed her lovingly, and then she smiled again.
Where could Eugénie be? That Madame Dorcelles did not receive that evening; at least, I thought that it was not her day. At all events, I did not choose to go to her house; I suspected that woman of giving Eugénie very bad advice, and I might let my ill humor appear. It was much better not to go there.
But why should I always hold myself in check? Why should I not tell my wife frankly what my feelings were? In order to have peace, to avoid quarrels. But in order to have peace, should a man let his wife make a fool of herself and do rash things, if nothing worse? No, I determined to tell Eugénie all that I had on my mind.
Perhaps those ladies had gone to the play. I went out, after kissing Henriette again and handing her over to her nurse. Where should I go? At what theatre should I look for them? I went into the Variétés, the Gymnase, and the Porte-Saint-Martin. And I remembered that I had met Eugénie there on the day following Giraud’s ball, at which I saw her for the first time. My eyes turned toward the box in which she sat that evening. Ah! how glad I would have been to go back to that time! How madly in love I was! I still loved her as dearly! but she——
The time passes quickly when one is engrossed by souvenirs of the past. The play came to an end unnoticed by me. I was aroused from my reflections by seeing that everybody had gone; whereupon I understood that I must do likewise. I returned home. As I approached the house, I saw a gentleman and lady standing at the door, and I thought that I recognized my wife. I stepped behind one of the trees on the boulevard, where I could see them better. Yes, it was my wife and Monsieur Dulac. He had brought her home. But they talked together a very long time! He took her hand and did not release it. Why did he hold her hand like that? When a man holds a woman’s hand so long, it means that he is making love to her. I remembered very clearly that that was what I used to do; and that I used to bestow a loving pressure upon the hand that I held in mine. He was pressing my wife’s hand, no doubt, and she did not withdraw it! That idea maddened me, I could no longer restrain myself, and I walked rapidly toward them. They dropped each other’s hands; Dulac bowed ceremoniously, then exclaimed:
“Ah! here is Monsieur Blémont! I have brought madame home; she deigned to accept my arm. Good-night, madame; pray receive my respects.”
He bowed and walked away; I do not know whether I made any answer to him. I pushed my wife into the house and we went upstairs without exchanging a word. When we reached our apartment, madame entered her bedroom, and I followed her. I paced the floor a long while without speaking. I wanted to see whether she would ask me about my son, for she must have guessed that I had been to Livry. But she did not say a word; she simply began to arrange her hair in curl papers.