XVI
During the remainder of the winter the Du Roys often visited theWalters. George even dined there by himself continually, Madeleinesaying she was tired, and preferring to remain at home. He had adoptedFriday as a fixed day, and Madame Walter never invited anyone thatevening; it belonged to Pretty-boy, to him alone. After dinner theyplayed cards, and fed the goldfish, amusing themselves like a familycircle. Several times behind a door or a clump of shrubs in theconservatory, Madame Walter had suddenly clasped George in her arms, andpressing him with all her strength to her breast, had whispered in hisear, "I love you, I love you till it is killing me." But he had alwayscoldly repulsed her, replying, in a dry tone: "If you begin thatbusiness once again, I shall not come here any more."
Towards the end of March the marriage of the two sisters was all at oncespoken about. Rose, it was said, was to marry the Count deLatour-Yvelin, and Susan the Marquis de Cazolles. These two gentlemenhad become familiars of the household, those familiars to whom specialfavors and marked privileges are granted. George and Susan continued tolive in a species of free and fraternal intimacy, romping for hours,making fun of everyone, and seeming greatly to enjoy one another'scompany. They had never spoken again of the possible marriage of theyoung girl, nor of the suitors who offered themselves.
The governor had brought George home to lunch one morning. Madame Walterwas called away immediately after the repast to see one of thetradesmen, and the young fellow said to Susan: "Let us go and feed thegoldfish."
They each took a piece of crumb of bread from the table and went intothe conservatory. All along the marble brim cushions were left lying onthe ground, so that one could kneel down round the basin, so as to benearer the fish. They each took one of these, side by side, and bendingover the water, began to throw in pellets of bread rolled between thefingers. The fish, as soon as they caught sight of them, flocked round,wagging their tails, waving their fins, rolling their great projectingeyes, turning round, diving to catch the bait as it sank, and coming upat once to ask for more. They had a funny action of the mouth, suddenand rapid movements, a strangely monstrous appearance, and against thesand of the bottom stood out a bright red, passing like flames throughthe transparent water, or showing, as soon as they halted, the blueedging to their scales. George and Susan saw their own faces looking upin the water, and smiled at them. All at once he said in a low voice:"It is not kind to hide things from me, Susan."
"What do you mean, Pretty-boy?" asked she.
"Don't you remember, what you promised me here on the evening of thefete?"
"No."
"To consult me every time your hand was asked for."
"Well?"
"Well, it has been asked for."
"By whom?"
"You know very well."
"No. I swear to you."
"Yes, you do. That great fop, the Marquis de Cazolles."
"He is not a fop, in the first place."
"It may be so, but he is stupid, ruined by play, and worn out bydissipation. It is really a nice match for you, so pretty, so fresh, andso intelligent."
She inquired, smiling: "What have you against him?"
"I, nothing."
"Yes, you have. He is not all that you say."
"Nonsense. He is a fool and an intriguer."
She turned round somewhat, leaving off looking into the water, and said:"Come, what is the matter with you?"
He said, as though a secret was being wrenched from the bottom of hisheart: "I--I--am jealous of him."
She was slightly astonished, saying: "You?"
"Yes, I."
"Why so?"
"Because I am in love with you, and you know it very well, you naughtygirl."
She said, in a severe tone: "You are mad, Pretty-boy."
He replied; "I know very well that I am mad. Ought I to have admittedthat--I, a married man, to you, a young girl? I am more than mad, I amguilty. I have no possible hope, and the thought of that drives me outof my senses. And when I hear it said that you are going to be married,I have fits of rage enough to kill someone. You must forgive me this,Susan."
He was silent. The whole of the fish, to whom bread was no longer beingthrown, were motionless, drawn up in line like English soldiers, andlooking at the bent heads of those two who were no longer troublingthemselves about them. The young girl murmured, half sadly, half gayly:"It is a pity that you are married. What would you? Nothing can be done.It is settled."
He turned suddenly towards her, and said right in her face: "If I werefree, would you marry me?"
She replied, in a tone of sincerity: "Yes, Pretty-boy, I would marryyou, for you please me far better than any of the others."
He rose, and stammered: "Thanks, thanks; do not say 'yes' to anyone yet,I beg of you; wait a little longer, I entreat you. Will you promise methis much?"
She murmured, somewhat uneasily, and without understanding what hewanted: "Yes, I promise you."
Du Roy threw the lump of bread he still held in his hand into the water,and fled as though he had lost his head, without wishing her good-bye.All the fish rushed eagerly at this lump of crumb, which floated, nothaving been kneaded in the fingers, and nibbled it with greedy mouths.They dragged it away to the other end of the basin, and forming a movingcluster, a kind of animated and twisting flower, a live flower falleninto the water head downwards.
Susan, surprised and uneasy, got up and returned slowly to thedining-room. The journalist had left.
He came home very calm, and as Madeleine was writing letters, said toher: "Are you going to dine at the Walters' on Friday? I am going."
She hesitated, and replied: "No. I do not feel very well. I would ratherstay at home."
He remarked: "Just as you like."
Then he took his hat and went out again at once. For some time past hehad been keeping watch over her, following her about, knowing all hermovements. The hour he had been awaiting was at length at hand. He hadnot been deceived by the tone in which she had said: "I would ratherstay at home."
He was very amiable towards her during the next few days. He evenappeared lively, which was not usual, and she said: "You are growingquite nice again."
He dressed early on the Friday, in order to make some calls before goingto the governor's, he said. He started just before six, after kissinghis wife, and went and took a cab at the Place Notre Dame de Lorette. Hesaid to the driver: "Pull up in front of No. 17, Rue Fontaine, and staythere till I tell you to go on again. Then drive to the Cock Pheasantrestaurant in the Rue Lafayette."
The cab started at a slow trot, and Du Roy drew down the blinds. As soonas he was opposite the door he did not take his eyes off it. Afterwaiting ten minutes he saw Madeleine come out and go in the direction ofthe outer boulevards. As soon as she had got far enough off he put hishead through the window, and said to the driver: "Go on." The cabstarted again, and landed him in front of the Cock Pheasant, awell-known middle-class restaurant. George went into the maindining-room and ate slowly, looking at his watch from time to time. Athalf-past seven, when he had finished his coffee, drank two liqueurs ofbrandy, and slowly smoked a good cigar, he went out, hailed another cabthat was going by empty, and was driven to the Rue La Rochefoucauld. Heascended without making any inquiry of the doorkeeper, to the thirdstory of the house he had told the man to drive to, and when a servantopened the door to him, said: "Monsieur Guibert de Lorme is at home, ishe not?"
"Yes sir."
He was ushered into the drawing-room, where he waited for a few minutes.Then a gentleman came in, tall, and with a military bearing, gray-hairedthough still young, and wearing the ribbon of the Legion of Honor. DuRoy bowed, and said: "As I foresaw, Mr. Commissionary, my wife is nowdining with her lover in the furnished rooms they have hired in the Ruedes Martyrs."
The commissary of police bowed, saying: "I am at your service, sir."
George continued: "You have until nine o'clock, have you not? That limitof time passed, you can no longer enter a private dwelling to prove
adultery."
"No, sir; seven o'clock in winter, nine o'clock from the 31st March. Itis the 5th of April, so we have till nine o'clock.
"Very well, Mr. Commissionary, I have a cab downstairs; we can take theofficers who will accompany you, and wait a little before the door. Thelater we arrive the best chance we have of catching them in the act."
"As you like, sir."
The commissary left the room, and then returned with an overcoat, hidinghis tri-colored sash. He drew back to let Du Roy pass out first. But thejournalist, who was preoccupied, declined to do so, and kept saying:"After you, sir, after you."
The commissary said: "Go first, sir, I am at home."
George bowed, and passed out. They went first to the police office topick up three officers in plain clothes who were awaiting them, forGeorge had given notice during the day that the surprise would takeplace that evening. One of the men got on the box beside the driver. Theother two entered the cab, which reached the Rue des Martyrs. Du Roysaid: "I have a plan of the rooms. They are on the second floor. Weshall first find a little ante-room, then a dining-room, then thebedroom. The three rooms open into one another. There is no way out tofacilitate flight. There is a locksmith a little further on. He isholding himself in readiness to be called upon by you."
When they arrived opposite the house it was only a quarter past eight,and they waited in silence for more than twenty minutes. But when hesaw the three quarters about to strike, George said: "Let us start now."
They went up the stairs without troubling themselves about thedoorkeeper, who, indeed, did not notice them. One of the officersremained in the street to keep watch on the front door. The four menstopped at the second floor, and George put his ear to the door and thenlooked through the keyhole. He neither heard nor saw anything. He rangthe bell.
The commissary said to the officers: "You will remain in readiness tillcalled on."
And they waited. At the end of two or three minutes George again pulledthe bell several times in succession. They noted a noise from thefurther end of the rooms, and then a slight step approached. Someone wascoming to spy who was there. The journalist then rapped smartly on thepanel of the door. A voice, a woman's voice, that an attempt wasevidently being made to disguise asked: "Who is there?"
The commissary replied: "Open, in the name of the law."
The voice repeated: "Who are you?"
"I am the commissary of police. Open the door, or I will have it brokenin."
The voice went on: "What do you want?"
Du Roy said: "It is I. It is useless to seek to escape."
The light steps, the tread of bare feet, was heard to withdraw, and thenin a few seconds to return.
George said: "If you won't open, we will break in the door."
He grasped the handle, and pushed slowly with his shoulder. As therewas no longer any reply, he suddenly gave such a violent and vigorousshock that the old lock gave way. The screws were torn out of the wood,and he almost fell over Madeleine, who was standing in the ante-room,clad in a chemise and petticoat, her hair down, her legs bare, and acandle in her hand.
He exclaimed: "It is she, we have them," and darted forward into therooms. The commissary, having taken off his hat, followed him, and thestartled woman came after, lighting the way. They crossed adrawing-room, the uncleaned table of which displayed the remnants of arepast--empty champagne bottles, an open pot of fatted goose liver, thebody of a fowl, and some half-eaten bits of bread. Two plates piled onthe sideboard were piled with oyster shells.
The bedroom seemed disordered, as though by a struggle. A dress wasthrown over a chair, a pair of trousers hung astride the arm of another.Four boots, two large and two small, lay on their sides at the foot ofthe bed. It was the room of a house let out in furnished lodgings, withcommonplace furniture, filled with that hateful and sickening smell ofall such places, the odor of all the people who had slept or lived therea day or six months. A plate of cakes, a bottle of chartreuse, and twoliqueur glasses, still half full, encumbered the mantel-shelf. The upperpart of the bronze clock was hidden by a man's hat.
The commissary turned round sharply, and looking Madeleine straight inthe face, said: "You are Madame Claire Madeleine Du Roy, wife ofMonsieur Prosper George Du Roy, journalist, here present?"
She uttered in a choking voice: "Yes, sir."
"What are you doing here?" She did not answer.
The commissary went on: "What are you doing here? I find you away fromhome, almost undressed, in furnished apartments. What did you come herefor?" He waited for a few moments. Then, as she still remained silent,he continued: "Since you will not confess, madame, I shall be obliged toverify the state of things."
In the bed could be seen the outline of a form hidden beneath theclothes. The commissary approached and said: "Sir."
The man in bed did not stir. He seemed to have his back turned, and hishead buried under a pillow. The commissary touched what seemed to be hisshoulder, and said: "Sir, do not, I beg of you, force me to takeaction."
But the form still remained as motionless as a corpse. Du Roy, who hadadvanced quickly, seized the bed-clothes, pulled them down, and tearingaway the pillow, revealed the pale face of Monsieur Laroche-Mathieu. Hebent over him, and, quivering with the desire to seize him by the throatand strangle him, said, between his clenched teeth: "Have at least thecourage of your infamy."
The commissary again asked: "Who are you?"
The bewildered lover not replying, he continued: "I am a commissary ofpolice, and I summon you to tell me your name."
George, who was quivering with brutal wrath, shouted: "Answer, youcoward, or I will tell your name myself."
Then the man in the bed stammered: "Mr. Commissary, you ought not toallow me to be insulted by this person. Is it with you or with him thatI have to do? Is it to you or to him that I have to answer?"
His mouth seemed to be dried up as he spoke.
The commissary replied: "With me, sir; with me alone. I ask you who youare?"
The other was silent. He held the sheet close up to his neck, and rolledhis startled eyes. His little, curled-up moustache showed up black uponhis blanched face.
The commissary continued: "You will not answer, eh? Then I shall beforced to arrest you. In any case, get up. I will question you when youare dressed."
The body wriggled in the bed, and the head murmured: "But I cannot,before you."
The commissary asked: "Why not?"
The other stammered: "Because I am--I am--quite naked."
Du Roy began to chuckle sneeringly, and picking up a shirt that hadfallen onto the floor, threw it onto the bed, exclaiming: "Come, get up.Since you have undressed in my wife's presence, you can very well dressin mine."
Then he turned his back, and returned towards the fireplace. Madeleinehad recovered all her coolness, and seeing that all was lost, was readyto dare anything. Her eyes glittered with bravado, and twisting up apiece of paper she lit, as though for a reception, the ten candles inthe ugly candelabra, placed at the corners of the mantel-shelf. Then,leaning against this, and holding out backwards to the dying fire one ofher bare feet which she lifted up behind the petticoat, scarcelysticking to her hips, she took a cigarette from a pink paper case, litit, and began to smoke. The commissary had returned towards her, pendingthat her accomplice got up.
She inquired insolently: "Do you often have such jobs as these, sir?"
He replied gravely: "As seldom as possible, madame."
She smiled in his face, saying: "I congratulate you; it is dirty work."
She affected not to look at or even to see her husband.
But the gentleman in the bed was dressing. He had put on his trousers,pulled on his boots, and now approached putting on his waistcoat. Thecommissary turned towards him, saying: "Now, sir, will you tell me whoyou are?"
He made no reply, and the official said: "I find myself obliged toarrest you."
Then the man exclaimed suddenly: "Do not lay hands on me. My person isinviolable.
"
Du Roy darted towards him as though to throw him down, and growled inhis face: "Caught in the act, in the act. I can have you arrested if Ichoose; yes, I can." Then, in a ringing tone, he added: "This man isLaroche-Mathieu, Minister of Foreign Affairs."
The commissary drew back, stupefied, and stammered: "Really, sir, willyou tell me who you are?"
The other had made up his mind, and said in forcible tones: "For oncethat scoundrel has not lied. I am, indeed, Laroche-Mathieu, theminister." Then, holding out his hand towards George's chest, in which alittle bit of red ribbon showed itself, he added: "And that rascal wearson his coat the cross of honor which I gave him."
Du Roy had become livid. With a rapid movement he tore the bit of ribbonfrom his buttonhole, and, throwing it into the fireplace, exclaimed:
"That is all that is fit for a decoration coming from a swine likeyou."
They were quite close, face to face, exasperated, their fists clenched,the one lean, with a flowing moustache, the other stout, with a twistedone. The commissary stepped rapidly between the pair, and pushing themapart with his hands, observed: "Gentlemen, you are forgettingyourselves; you are lacking in self-respect."
They became quiet and turned on their heels. Madeleine, motionless, wasstill smoking in silence.
The police official resumed: "Sir, I have found you alone with Madame DuRoy here, you in bed, she almost naked, with your clothes scatteredabout the room. This is legal evidence of adultery. You cannot deny thisevidence. What have you to say for yourself?"
Laroche-Mathieu murmured: "I have nothing to say; do your duty."
The commissary addressed himself to Madeleine: "Do you admit, madame,that this gentleman is your lover?"
She said with a certain swagger: "I do not deny it; he is my lover."
"That is enough."
The commissary made some notes as to the condition and arrangement ofthe rooms. As he was finishing writing, the minister, who had finisheddressing, and was waiting with his greatcoat over his arm and his hat inhis hand, said: "Have you still need of me, sir? What am I to do? Can Iwithdraw?"
Du Roy turned towards him, and smiling insolently, said: "Why so? Wehave finished. You can go to bed again, sir; we will leave you alone."And placing a finger on the official's arm, he continued: "Let usretire, Mr. Commissary, we have nothing more to do in this place."
Somewhat surprised, the commissary followed, but on the threshold of theroom George stopped to allow him to pass. The other declined, out ofpoliteness. Du Roy persisted, saying: "Pass first, sir."
"After you, sir," replied the commissary.
The journalist bowed, and in a tone of ironical politeness, said: "It isyour turn, sir; I am almost at home here."
Then he softly reclosed the door with an air of discretion.
An hour later George Du Roy entered the offices of the _Vie Francaise_.Monsieur Walter was already there, for he continued to manage andsupervise with solicitude his paper, which had enormously increased incirculation, and greatly helped the schemes of his bank. The managerraised his head and said: "Ah! here you are. You look very strange. Whydid you not come to dinner with us? What have you been up to?"
The young fellow, sure of his effect, said, emphasizing every word: "I
have just upset the Minister of Foreign Affairs."
The other thought he was joking, and said: "Upset what?"
"I am going to turn out the Cabinet. That is all. It is quite time toget rid of that rubbish."
The old man thought that his leader-writer must be drunk. He murmured:"Come, you are talking nonsense."
"Not at all. I have just caught Monsieur Laroche-Mathieu committingadultery with my wife. The commissary of police has verified the fact.The minister is done for."
Walter, amazed, pushed his spectacles right back on his forehead, andsaid: "You are not joking?"
"Not at all. I am even going to write an article on it."
"But what do you want to do?"
"To upset that scoundrel, that wretch, that open evil-doer." Georgeplaced his hat on an armchair, and added: "Woe to those who cross mypath. I never forgive."
The manager still hesitated at understanding matters. He murmured:"But--your wife?"
"My application for a divorce will be lodged to-morrow morning. I shallsend her back to the departed Forestier."
"You mean to get a divorce?"
"Yes. I was ridiculous. But I had to play the idiot in order to catchthem. That's done. I am master of the situation."
Monsieur Walter could not get over it, and watched Du Roy with startlingeyes, thinking: "Hang it, here is a fellow to be looked after."
George went on: "I am now free. I have some money. I shall offer myselfas a candidate at the October elections for my native place, where I amwell known. I could not take a position or make myself respected withthat woman, who was suspected by every one. She had caught me like afool, humbugged and ensnared me. But since I became alive to her littlegame I kept watch on her, the slut." He began to laugh, and added: "Itwas poor Forestier who was cuckold, a cuckold without imagining it,confiding and tranquil. Now I am free from the leprosy he left me. Myhands are free. Now I shall get on." He had seated himself astride achair, and repeated, as though thinking aloud, "I shall get on."
And Daddy Walter, still looking at him with unveiled eyes, hisspectacles remaining pushed up on his forehead, said to himself: "Yes,he will get on, the rascal."
George rose. "I am going to write the article. It must be donediscreetly. But you know it will be terrible for the minister. He hasgone to smash. He cannot be picked up again. The _Vie Francaise_ has nolonger any interest to spare him."
The old fellow hesitated for a few moments, and then made up his mind."Do so," said he; "so much the worse for those who get into suchmesses."