VII
A Sad Story
To recover from the fatigues of the celebration, Monsieur Patissot conceived the plan of passing the following Sunday tranquilly ensconced somewhere in communication with nature.
Desiring a fine view, he chose the terrace of Saint-Germain. He set out after breakfast and, when he had visited the museum of prehistoric curiosities—as a matter of duty, for he understood nothing about them—he stood struck with admiration before that great promenade, from which in the distance are seen Paris, the surrounding region, all the plains, villages, woods, ponds, towns even, and that great bluish serpent with innumerable undulations, that gentle and adorable river which touches the heel of France—the Seine!
In the background, made blue by light mists, he distinguished, at an incredible distance, little places like white spots, on the slopes of the green hills. And musing that on these almost invisible points men like himself lived, suffered, and toiled, he reflected for the first time on the smallness of the world. He said to himself that, in space, other points still more imperceptible, systems greater than our world, perhaps, bear races more nearly perfect. But a vertigo seized him at the extent of the possibility, and he stopped thinking of these things, as they bothered his head. Then he followed the terrace at a slow pace, through its whole breadth, a little wearied, as if fatigued by too heavy reflections.
When he reached the end, he sat down on a bench. A gentleman happened to be there with his hands crossed over his cane and his chin resting on his hands, in an attitude of profound meditation. But Patissot belonged to the race of those who cannot pass three seconds at the side of a fellow-being without speaking to him. He first looked at his neighbor, hemmed, then suddenly said:
“Could you tell me, Monsieur, the name of the village that I see down there?”
The gentleman raised his head and in a sad voice replied:
“It is Sartrouville.”
Then he was silent. Patissot, contemplating the immense perspective of the terrace, shaded with trees a century old, feeling in his lungs the great breath of the forest which rustled behind him, rejoiced by the springtime odors of the woods and great fields, gave an abrupt little laugh and, with a keen eye, remarked:
“There are some fine nooks for lovers here.”
His neighbor turned toward him with a disconsolate air, and replied:
“If I were in love, Monsieur, I would throw myself into the river.”
Patissot not being of the same mind, protested.
“Hey! hey! you speak of it with great unconcern; and why so?”
“Because it has already cost me too dear for me to wish to begin it again.”
Patissot gave a grin of joy as he replied:
“Well, if you have been guilty of follies, they always cost dear.”
But the other sighed in a melancholy way, and said sadly:
“No, Monsieur, I have not perpetrated any follies; I have been betrayed by events, that is all.”
Patissot, who scented a good story, continued:
“For all that, we cannot dislike the curés; it is not in nature.”
Then the man lifted his eyes sorrowfully to heaven.
“That is true, Monsieur, but if the priests were men like others, my misfortune would not have happened. I am an enemy to ecclesiastical celibacy, Monsieur, and I have my reasons for it.”
“Would it be indiscreet to ask you?”
“Not at all. This is my story: I am a Norman, Monsieur. My father was a miller at Darnétal, near Rouen; and when he died we were left mere children, my brother and I, in the charge of our uncle, a good stout curé of Caux.
“He brought us up, gave us our education; and then sent us both to Paris to find suitable situations.
“My brother was twenty-one years old and I was twenty-two.
“We lodged together from economy, and we were living quietly when the adventure occurred which I am going to tell you.
“One evening as I was going home, I happened to meet on the sidewalk a young lady who pleased me very much. She answered to all my tastes; she was rather tall, Monsieur, and had a pleasant air. I dared not speak to her, of course, but I gave her a penetrating glance. The next morning I found her at the same place; then, as I was timid, I only bowed. She replied with a little smile, and the day after I approached her and spoke to her.
“Her name was Victorine, and she worked at sewing in a dressmaker’s establishment. I felt very soon that my heart was taken.
“I said to her: ‘Mademoiselle, it seems to me that I cannot live away from you.’ She lowered her eyes without answering. Then I seized her hand and I felt her press mine in return. I was captured, Monsieur: but I did not know what to do on account of my brother. My faith! I was just deciding to tell him everything when he opened his mouth first: He also was in love. Then it was agreed that we should take another lodging, but that we should not breathe a word of it to our good uncle, who should keep on addressing his letters in care of my domestic. So it was done; and a week later Victorine joined me in my home. We gave a little dinner, to which my brother brought his sweetheart, and in the evening, when everything was put in order, we definitely took possession of our lodging.
“We had been asleep for an hour, perhaps, when a violent ringing of the bell awaked me. I looked at the clock, it was three in the morning. I slipped on my trousers and hurried toward the door, saying to myself, ‘it is some misfortune, surely—’
“It was my uncle, Monsieur, he had on his traveling coat, and carried his valise in his hand.
“ ‘Yes, it is I, my boy, I have come to surprise you, and to spend several days in Paris. Monseigneur has given me leave of absence.’
“He kissed me on both cheeks, entered, and shut the door. I was more dead than alive, Monsieur. But as he was about to penetrate into my bedroom, I almost grasped him by the collar.
“ ‘No, not that way, uncle, this way, this way.’
“And I made him go into the dining room. You see my situation—what was I to do? He said to me:
“ ‘And your brother, is he asleep? Go and wake him up.’
“I stammered:
“ ‘No, uncle, he has been obliged to pass the night at the office for an urgent order.’
“My uncle rubbed his hands.
“ ‘Business is all right, then?’
“An idea occurred to me.
“ ‘You must be hungry, uncle, after your journey.’
“ ‘My faith! that’s true, I could nibble a little crust.’
“I rushed to the cupboard, where I had put the remains of the dinner. He was a great eater, my uncle, a true Norman curé, capable of eating twelve hours at a sitting. I brought out a bit of beef, to make the time longer, for I knew that he did not care for it; then after he had eaten enough of it, I presented the remnant of a chicken, a paté almost whole, a potato salad, three pots of cream, and some good wine that I had laid aside for the next day.
“Ah, Monsieur, how he did gorge!
“ ‘For heaven’s sake!’ said I to myself, ‘what a storeroom!’ And I stuffed him, Monsieur, I stuffed him. He did not resist, either.
“When he had devoured everything, it was five in the morning. I was on pins and needles. I drew him along another hour still, with the coffee and all the rinsings; but finally he rose.
“ ‘Let me see your lodging,’ said he.
“I was lost, and I followed, thinking of throwing myself out of the window. As I entered the bedroom ready to faint, waiting for something to occur, a last hope made my heart leap.
“The brave girl had closed the bed-curtains. Ah, if he only should not open them! But alas! Monsieut, he approached the bed immediately, with a candle in his hand, and suddenly he raised the curtains of the bed. It was warm, we had drawn down the bedclothes, and there was left only the sheet, which she had pulled up over her head; but her outlines, Monsieur, her outlines could be seen! I trembled in all my limbs, with my throat compressed, choking. Then my uncle turned toward me, laughing heartily, so that I almost jumped to the ceiling from astonishment.
“ ‘Ah! you joker, you did not want to wake up your brother. Well, you’ll see how I shall awake him.’
“And I saw his peasant’s hand rising; and while he was choking with laughter, his hand fell like a thunderbolt on—on—well—on the outlines that could be seen, Monsieur.
“There was a terrible cry in the bed; and then something like a tempest under the sheet. The form moved. She could not disentangle herself. Finally, almost at one jump, she appeared, with eyes like lanterns, and she stared at my uncle, who backed out, his mouth gaping, and puffing, Monsieur, as if he were going to be ill!
“Then I lost my head and fled. I wandered about for six days not daring to go back to my quarters. Finally, when I did pluck up courage to return, nobody was there.”
Patissot, shaking with laughter, said: “I should think not!” which made his neighbor stop talking.
But in a second, the man resumed:
“I never saw my uncle again. He disinherited me, persuaded that I took advantage of the absence of my brother to play my tricks.
“I never saw Victorine again, either. All my family turned their backs upon me; and my brother himself, who had profited by the situation, as he inherited one hundred thousand francs at the death of my uncle, seems to consider me an old libertine. And yet, Monsieur, I swear to you that never since that moment, never, never!—There are, you see, minutes that a man never forgets.”
“And what are you doing here?” asked Patissot.
The other swept the horizon with a glance, as if he feared to be overheard by some unseen ear; then he murmured, with a sound of terror in his voice:
“I am flying from the women, Monsieur!”