She gave a little laugh, and he looked up and caught her eyes.
“Do you know, Jean? Have you found out yet that there is one very funny thing about our poor Louis? Perhaps it is even more pathetic than funny. He has one great—one very great vanity—he believes that he is superlatively clever, and he would far rather be thought guilty of a crime than of a mistake. I think that it is the fault of his having been, as we were saying, badly brought up. Gentlemen are never afraid of being thought stupid, it is in fact their prerogative—but when a man doubts his social value, he at once becomes sensitive as to his intellectual powers; he falls back, as it were, upon a new line of defence, and he will not admit being mistaken! It is the vanity of ignorance, the worst type of vanity there is, I fancy, because it cannot be cured. It may make a man a Napoleon or an apâche, but there is one thing, it will never let him be for long—himself! I have seen Louis, who is naturally the most honest of men, lie and invent scandal of himself, rather than admit a bêtise which would have made Torialli smile. You have, perhaps, come upon this little weakness and it has shocked you?”
Jean started. Was it then after all only stupidity of which Flaubert was guilty? Madame had known him for a long time. Then he remembered the deadly terror in Flaubert’s face and his broken word.
“The motive may be as you say, Madame; but there are some things that a man does not allow himself to do if he wishes to be considered—” Jean paused.
“Yes, Jean,” said Madame very gently.
“A man of honour, Madame,” said Jean.
Madame moved a little restlessly against the green curtain.
“Women are so ignorant about such things,” she murmured. “But, Jean, when we do not understand we nevertheless sometimes arrive. I have arrived at this: I believe that Louis has shown himself at his worst to you. He has made some foolish mistake, and because he respects and admires you, more than you think perhaps (what he has said in confidence to me about you I cannot, of course, repeat, but it has touched me), he has tried to cover up his folly by a falseness which has disgusted you; and you are judging him harshly because it is one of your code sins. Have you ever thought that it is not quite fair to use a gentleman’s code for a man who is, perhaps more by the fault of others than his own, not quite a gentleman?”
Jean flushed; he felt ashamed of himself, after all. Hadn’t he been rather hasty? He was touched too, also, to hear of Flaubert’s feeling for himself. He had not guessed it; indeed, he had been conscious of a certain mutual antagonism between himself and the other man—and all this time Louis had been praising him to Madame!
“Well, Madame,” he said, smiling a little uncertainly. “I will try to be less intolerant. I cannot promise to like Flaubert, because I’m afraid I don’t; but I will try not to show it, and perhaps I shall understand him better after what you have said.”