My Neighbor Raymond (Novels of Paul de Kock Volume XI)

by Paul de Kock

Whether we are sad or merry, happy or wretched, rich or poor, the Fates spin the web of our days none the less. Mine was no longer of silk and gold; but still the days passed; they seemed longer to me than if I had been happy; that was all the difference, and therein people who are fond of life should find some compensation; for years of sorrow count double.

I had been married only a year, and I had already acquired all the ways of an old married man. I did not go out with my wife in the morning; she knew Paris as well as I did, and no longer needed my company; she went out to pay visits, to make purchases, or to walk; I either worked at home or went my own way. We almost always had someone to dinner, very frequently Raymond, who had become the friend of the family. It was not that I liked him any better than formerly; no, I did not look upon him as a friend in the least degree; but he had become necessary to me, he diverted my thoughts, he went about with my wife; he was always at our service if we needed him to take part in a game or to do an errand; he was really extremely obliging. Lastly, he had known Nicette, he was the only person with whom I could talk of her now and then; that reason alone was sufficient to lead me to seek his society. And yet, it was to him that I owed a part of my sorrow; but he had rendered me a service by showing Nicette to me as she really was. If she had listened to him, she must have listened to many others! In a word, his presence was often painful to me, and yet I constantly sought it—I always hoped that he would contradict what he had told me about her.

As for my wife, she could not do without Raymond; he was with her almost every evening, while I went to my little bachelor apartment. They played together; Raymond played the flute a little, and my wife the piano; they both sang also. Raymond was an inferior musician, and my wife was never in time; together, they considered themselves very fine. And then, Raymond had a supply of compliments and gallant phrases which delighted my wife, who had plenty of self-esteem and coquetry, and loved to be told that she turned all the men’s heads and that she was as witty as a demon.

I confess that I had never been able to tell my wife that she had overmuch wit. Indeed, I had long since ceased to tell her that she was pretty; it seemed superfluous to me; I had told her so when I was courting her, and I could not keep saying the same thing forever. Such talk seems to me most futile; a husband and wife ought to prove their love to each other without having to pay each other compliments. But Pélagie, who did not know what to reply when you talked to her on a subject of real interest, knew enough to smile at flattery; and Raymond declared that her smile said many things. If I attempted to talk sensibly with her, she yawned; thereupon I left her, only too glad when Raymond was there to take my place.

I was wrong, perhaps, in allowing my wife to do whatever she chose; but how would it have served me to put restraint upon her, to restrict her in the gratification of her tastes? It would have made us both unhappy. We married without love, and we were not made to live together. My wife was bored when alone with me, and I did not enjoy being with her. When I tried to talk sensibly to her, to urge her to give a little more time to her housekeeping instead of thinking solely of gewgaws and dress and pleasure, then Pélagie would weep and say that her aunt was justified in calling me a tyrant! What reply could I make to that?—none at all! I cannot bear to see a woman weep. If I had no love for my wife, I did not choose that she should have cause to complain of my treatment; so I allowed her to buy whatever gave her pleasure, and to go to all the balls and festivities to which she was invited. Pélagie spent on dresses, jewels, cabs, and trifles much more than she brought me; but I held my tongue, to avoid little discussions. I was determined to do my best to keep the peace, at all events.

Perhaps I should not have left her so often to listen to the whispering of dandies and the soft speeches of salon seducers; but, in truth, it was impossible for me to be jealous. Moreover, my mind was at ease on that score; Pélagie had been brought up very strictly; she was high-principled, and her manners were so modest and bashful! To be sure, she no longer kept her eyes on the floor, and even played the coquette a bit; but I was none the less confident of her fidelity. And then, too, the young men who paid court to her in society never came to my house; I seldom had any male guest except Raymond; and faith! if a man must torment himself in anticipation, his mind would never be at rest.

I hoped to have children; I would have loved them dearly; I would have looked after their education, and it would have been a great joy to me. But I had not had that satisfaction, and the greatest pleasure I knew was to go to my little apartment on Rue Saint-Florentin. There I seemed to be a different man; I fancied myself still a bachelor. In that house nobody knew that I was married; but I never slept there, and my concierge must have thought that I was leading a strange life; I paid her generously, however, and she indulged in no comments. Indeed, who in the house had any reason to complain of me? I took nobody there, I made no noise, I spoke to nobody, and I did not even know who occupied Raymond’s apartment on my landing.

For some time past, my wife had been going more frequently than ever to balls and parties which lasted far into the night. I am no foe to gayeties, but I was afraid that her excessive indulgence in them would injure her health. I reproved her mildly, and she answered sharply; a dispute arose, and madame, who had taken a tone which was entirely new to her, and which surprised me in a woman who had always seemed so timid,—in the modest Pélagie,—put an end to the discussion by announcing that she proposed to have a separate room, so that she might be more at liberty.

I asked nothing better. I had a bed put in the room adjoining my study, which was separated from my wife’s bedroom by the salon, the reception room, and a small music room. I took possession of my new quarters that same evening. Raymond, being informed of the new arrangement, said that it was an excellent idea, and that it was all that we needed to make a most charming household.

Pélagie spent money freely; with the purpose of trying to put a curb on the follies she was beginning to commit, I began to go into society with her. It would still have been easy for me to form intrigues, to make conquests; for a young husband is as warmly greeted in Paris as a bachelor in the provinces; but I had no inclination for those liaisons of a moment, for those amourettes which do not touch the heart; I was faithful, but not amorous.