The Complete Works: Short Stories, Novels, Plays, Poetry, Memoirs and more. Guy de Maupassant

me, my dear boy! — a word or two on another matter. I may not appear to understand, but I understand very well the allusions with which you sting me incessantly, and I don’t want any more of them. You reproach me with being a Jew — that is to say, with making money, with being avaricious, with being a speculator, so as to come close to sheer swindling. Now, my friend, I spend my life in lending you this money that I make — not without trouble —— or rather in giving it to you. However, let that be! But there is one point that I don’t admit! No, I am not avaricious. The proof of it is that I have made presents to your sister, presents of twenty thousand francs at a time, that I gave your father a Theodore Rousseau worth ten thousand francs, to which he took a fancy, and that I presented you, when you were coming here, with the horse on which you rode a little while ago to Royat. In what then am I avaricious? In not letting myself be robbed. And we are all like that among my race, and we are right, Monsieur. I want to say it to you once for all. We are regarded as misers because we know the exact value of things. For you a piano is a piano, a chair is a chair, a pair of trousers is a pair of trousers. For us also, but it represents, at the same time, a value, a mercantile value appreciable and precise, which a practical man should estimate with a single glance, not through stinginess, but in order not to countenance fraud. What would you say if a tobacconist asked you four sous for a postage-stamp or for a box of wax-matches? You would go to look for a policeman, Monsieur, for one sou, yes, for one sou — so indignant would you be! And that because you knew, by chance, the value of these two articles. Well, as for me, I know the value of all salable articles; and that indignation which would take possession of you, if you were asked four sous for a postage-stamp, I experience when I am asked twenty francs for an umbrella which is worth fifteen! I protest against the established theft, ceaseless and abominable, of merchants, servants, and coachmen. I protest against the commercial dishonesty of all your race which despises us. I give the price of a drink which I am bound to give for a service rendered, and not that which as the result of a whim you fling away without knowing why, and which ranges from five to a hundred sous according to the caprice of your temper! Do you understand?” Gontran had risen by this time, and smiling with that refined irony which came happily from his lips: “Yes, my dear fellow, I understand, and you are perfectly right, and so much the more right because my grandfather, the old Marquis de Ravenel, scarcely left anything to my poor father in consequence of the bad habit which he had of never picking up the change handed to him by the shopkeepers when he was paying for any article whatsoever. He thought that unworthy of a gentleman, and always gave the round sum and the entire coin.”

      And Gontran went out with a self-satisfied air.

       French

XI

      Table of Contents

      THEY were just ready to go in to dinner, on the following day, in the Private diningroom of the Andermatt and Ravenel families, when Gontran opened the door announcing the “Mesdemoiselles Oriol.”

      They entered, with an air of constraint, pushed forward by Gontran, who laughed while he explained:

      “Here they are! I have carried them both off through the middle of the street. Moreover, it excited public attention. I brought them here by force to you because I want to explain myself to Madame Louise, and could not do so in the open air.”

      He took from them their hats and their parasols, which they were still carrying, as they had been on their way back from a promenade, made them sit down, embraced his sister, pressed the hands of his father, of his brother-in-law, and of Paul, and then, approaching Louise Oriol once more, said:

      “Here now, Mademoiselle, kindly tell me what you have against me for some time past?”

      She seemed scared, like a bird caught in a net, and carried away by the hunter.

      “Why, nothing, Monsieur, nothing at all! What has made you believe that?”

      “Oh! everything, Mademoiselle, everything at all! You no longer come here — you no longer come in the Noah’s Ark [so he had baptized the big landau]. You assume a harsh tone whenever I meet you and when I speak to you.”

      “Why, no, Monsieur, I assure you!”

      “Why, yes, Mam’zelle, I declare to you! In any case, I don’t want this to continue, and I am going to make peace with you this very day. Oh! you know I am obstinate. There’s no use in your looking black at me. I’ll know easily how to get the better of your hoity-toity airs, and make you be nice toward your sister, who is an angel of grace.”

      It was announced that dinner was ready; and they made their way to the diningroom. Gontran took Louise’s arm in his. He was exceedingly attentive to her and to her sister, dividing his compliments between them with admirable tact, and remarking to the younger girl: “As for you, you are a comrade of ours — I am going to neglect you for a few days. One goes to less expense for friends than for strangers, you are aware.”

      And he said to the elder: “As for you, I want to bewitch you, Mademoiselle, and I warn you as a loyal foe! I will even make love to you. Ha! you are blushing — that’s a good sign. You’ll see that I am very nice, when I take pains about it. Isn’t that so, Mademoiselle Charlotte?”

      And they were both, indeed, blushing, and Louise stammered with her serious air: “Oh! Monsieur, how foolish you are!”

      He replied: “Bah! you will hear many things said by others by and by in society, when you are married, which will not be long. ’Tis then they will really pay you compliments.”

      Christiane and Paul Bretigny expressed their approval of his action in having brought back Louise Oriol; the Marquis smiled, amused by these childish affectations. Andermatt was thinking: “He’s no fool, the sly dog.” And Gontran, irritated by the part which he was compelled to play, drawn by his senses toward Charlotte and by his interests toward Louise, muttered between his teeth with a sly smile in her direction: “Ah! your rascal of a father thought to play a trick fupon me; but I am going to carry it with a high hand over you, my lassie, and you will see whether I won’t go about it the right way!”

      And he compared the two, inspecting them one after the other. Certainly, he liked the younger more; she was more amusing, more lively, with her nose tilted slightly, her bright eyes, her straight forehead, and her beautiful teeth a little too prominent in a mouth which was somewhat too wide.

      However, the other was pretty, too, colder, less gay. She would never be lively or charming in the intimate relations of life; but when at the opening of a ball “the Comtesse de Ravenel” would be announced, she could carry her title well — better perhaps than her younger sister, when she got a little accustomed to it, and had mingled with persons of high birth. No matter; he was annoyed. He was full of spite against the father and the brother also, and he promised himself that he would pay them off afterward for his mischance when he was the master. When they returned to the drawingroom, he got Louise to read the cards, as she was skilled in foretelling the future. The Marquis, Andermatt, and Charlotte listened attentively, attracted, in spite of themselves, by the mystery of the unknown, by the possibility of the improbable, by that invincible credulity with reference to the marvelous which haunts man, and often disturbs the strongest minds in the presence of the silly inventions of charlatans.

      Paul and Christiane chatted in the recess of an open window. For some time past she had been miserable, feeling that she was no longer loved in the same fashion; and their misunderstanding as lovers was every day accentuated by their mutual error. She had suspected this unfortunate state of things for the first time on the evening of the fete when she brought Paul along the road. But while she understood that he had no longer the same tenderness in his look, the same caress in his voice, the same passionate anxiety about her as in the days of their early love, she had not been able to divine the cause of this change.

      It had existed for a long time now, ever since the day when she had said to him with a look of happiness on reaching their daily meeting-place: