It was in the summer of 1867 that Juliette received from her lawyer, M. Matthieu, a letter asking her to come and see him on a certain evening about a communication he had received from her husband.[96] M. Lamessine, in return for 15,000 francs, consented to relinquish his claim to the royalties on his wife’s books published before their separation. Distressed by the exorbitance of this demand, Juliette and Alice, who had accompanied her, on leaving the lawyer, tried to divert themselves by watching the crowds of merry-makers in the Champs Elysées. All Paris seemed en fête, for it was the summer of the Great Exhibition. But these gay sights afforded Juliette no solace. Tired and sad, she and Alice returned home. On the table lay a letter marked urgent. “Never mind,” said Juliette to herself, “I have enough worries for one evening. I will not open the letter till morning.” It was late. Her father and mother had gone to bed. She wished her daughter a sad good-night and followed her parents’ example. But she could not sleep, neither could she forget that letter marked urgent. The writing seemed familiar. She rose and read it. The letter was from her lawyer.
“Dear Madam,” it ran, “among the papers which I had set aside to finish examining to-night is a letter from Algeria, which tells me that your husband, M. Lamessine, died six weeks ago.... Thus the question of your royalties is decided.[97]—Yours, etc....”
Juliette has never been one of those who feign sentiments they do not feel. About her first husband’s death she is in her Souvenirs perfectly frank: she makes no attempt to conceal the feeling of intense relief which the news brought to her. Dr. Lambert, when he heard it, exclaimed: “I know some one who will be glad to have me for a father-in-law.”
That “some one” was Edmond Adam. One of the pious founders of Juliette’s salon, he had also been a member of Mme. d’Agoult’s circle. Originally a journalist on the staff of the famous National, he had made a considerable fortune and had become one of the mainstays of the Comptoir d’Escompte, a republican bank founded by his friend Alessandro Bixio and others. But that which had above all things attracted Juliette to the man who was to be her second husband—for he was considerably Juliette’s senior—was his uncompromising republicanism, dating back to the Revolution of 1848, in which he had played a prominent part. Edmond Adam united to high principles and fervent idealism a distinguished appearance and ingratiating manners. Among his friends he passed for a pleasant fellow. “A fine old Senator” he appeared some years later to a foreigner who visited Mine. Adam’s salon. “The chivalrous Adam,” she herself used to call him.
She noticed him first at a Wagner concert, standing opposite to her by a mirror in which their eyes met. “Who is that tall gentleman?” she inquired of Mme. d’Agoult, who sat next to her.
“Edmond Adam,” replied the Countess. “We are great friends. You don’t see him at my receptions because of Girardin, whom he is always wishing to fight. He will fight for anything or nothing. After Carrel’s death,[98] when Adam was editor of an Angers newspaper, Armand Marrast invited him to join the staff of the National. His friends are Duclerc,[99] Grévy,[100] Carnot,[101] all abstentionistes, and so is Adam, though he is essentially a man of action.... On the 2nd of December[102] he was a Councillor of State. But he refused to serve the Empire.... I don’t know any man who is more highly esteemed, and I like him very much.... He is fidelity and devotion itself.”
During the insurrection of June 1848, Adam with his friend Bixio,[103] both of them unarmed, had gone up on to the Paris barricades to endeavour to restore order. Afterwards, when the National Assembly wished to decorate the hero with the Cross of the Legion of Honour, Adam refused it on the ground that he could not wear a decoration won in a civil war, and, moreover, that he had merely done his duty. “Ronchaud,” added the Countess, “has just told me that he [Adam] has read your book,[104] and that he would like me to introduce him to you.”
But Juliette, moved by a sentiment not uncommon in women of deep feelings, a kind of subconscious fear of a man who has profoundly impressed them, refused that evening to make her new admirer’s acquaintance. Later, on the publication of her book Mon Village, he wrote his congratulations. She replied somewhat curtly. But her correspondent was not discouraged. Some time afterwards, when she was at the theatre with her friend, Mme. Fauvety,[105] whom he knew, he joined their party. Mme. Fauvety admired him no less than Mme. d’Agoult. Dr. Lambert, too, had a high opinion of his daughter’s new acquaintance. “He is pure gold,” said Juliette’s father, “and when you see him next you can tell him your father would like to shake hands with him; for he is one of those—and they are few—of whom an old republican may be proud.”[106]
Juliette’s betrothal to Edmond Adam took place on the day after she received her lawyer’s letter. Congratulations poured in from all her friends, with the one exception of Mme. d’Agoult. Yet she was aware of her young friend’s happiness. Ronchaud had told her. Since Mme. de Pierreclos’ warning letter,[107] Juliette and her old friend had not met. Now, with some misgiving, Juliette determined to go and see her. She received her kindly. But in a few minutes the discordant note was struck.[108] “The misfortune of being a widow,” said the Countess, “is that one is seized by a foolish desire to remarry. But I don’t think you capable of such folly. An intelligent woman should remain free and mistress of her own thoughts.”
“I have greater need of happiness than of freedom,” replied Juliette.