"Yes, yes, I love her, I adore her, I am mad over her! And these troubles?—in pity's name, my friend, tell me all you know!"
"Madame Dermont, as you know, is a widow; but her husband had a brother,—a sad scamp, by the way,—who would never do anything but drink, gamble, smoke, and haunt low resorts. When Monsieur Dermont died, Alexandre—that was the brother's name—Alexandre was frantic with rage when he found that he was not his heir, but that the whole fortune—rather a modest one, by the way—which his brother had left went to the widow. He called on his sister-in-law, made an unpleasant scene, and went so far as to threaten her; but she has a clear head and a strong character, and she turned him out of the house. Thereupon, Alexandre saw that he had gone to work in the wrong way, and that he would not obtain anything from Madame Dermont by threats; so he called on her again, and that time he did not play the swashbuckler, but wept and whined over his sad plight. The young widow did not turn him out again, but gave him five hundred francs and advised him to enlist; that was the only profession in which he could hope to make anything of himself. Alexandre promised to follow that advice; but, after a few months, he came back to his sister-in-law and told her he was dying of hunger, that he had eaten nothing since the day before; and he smelt horribly of brandy and tobacco!"
"And tobacco? He smoked, did he? Ah! now I understand. Poor woman! But why didn't she tell me all this?"
"Why? Because it is a painful thing to say that a man who is closely allied to you, who bears your name,—for Alexandre's name is Dermont,—in fact, you don't like to confess that such a ne'er-do-well, such a blackguard, is your brother, or that he has, at all events, the right to call you his sister."
"And the wretch has come again to torment Nathalie, I suppose?"
"Mon Dieu! yes; she doesn't know how to get rid of him! And yet, it is very hard to continue giving money away when it serves only to encourage vice and debauchery."
"Oh! I'll rid her of her miserable brother-in-law! Dear Nathalie! But why didn't she confide in me? No matter! I am a wretch; I am unworthy to be loved by such a sweet, dear woman!—Lucien, give me your hand. Ah! my friend, if you knew how much good you have done me! You have brought me back to life, to happiness, to love—that is to say, to her! Adieu, Lucien, adieu! I hasten—I fly to beg for forgiveness. She will grant it, won't she? she will grant it?"
Without waiting for a reply, Adhémar walked hurriedly away in the direction of Madame Dermont's; but when he drew near, and could see the house in which she lived, he slackened his pace; he began to wonder how she, whom he had left so cavalierly in consequence of his unjust suspicions, would receive him. And when he reached the door, he stopped; he dared not go in, but cudgelled his brain to find some pretext, some excuse, for calling.
He had been standing for some minutes, irresolute, before the porte cochère, when he was abruptly pushed aside by a person who said to him in a hoarse voice as he entered the house:
"Stand aside there! Don't you see that you're blocking up the door?"