December 20.
I passed eight days without hearing anything further in regard to thePrefere establishment. Then, feeling myself unable to remain any longerwithout some news of Clementine's daughter, and feeling furthermore thatI owed it as a duty to myself not to cease my visits with the schoolwithout more serious cause, I took my way to Les Ternes.
The parlour seemed to me more cold, more damp, more inhospitable, andmore insidious than ever before; and the servant much more silent andmuch more scared. I asked to see Mademoiselle Jeanne; but, after a veryconsiderable time, it was Mademoiselle Prefere who made her appearanceinstead--severe and pale, with lips compressed and a hard look in hereyes.
"Monsieur," she said, folding her arms over her pelerine, "I regret verymuch that I cannot allow you to see Mademoiselle Alexandre to-day; but Icannot possibly do it."
"Why not?" I asked in astonishment.
"Monsieur," she replied, "the reasons which compel me to request thatyour visits shall be less frequent hereafter are of an excessivelydelicate nature; and I must beg you to spare me the unpleasantness ofmentioning them."
"Madame," I replied, "I have been authorized by Jeanne's guardian tosee his ward every day. Will you please to inform me of your reasons foropposing the will of Monsieur Mouche?"
"The guardian of Mademoiselle Alexandre," she replied (and she dweltupon that word "guardian" as upon a solid support), "desires, quite asstrongly as I myself do, that your assiduities may come to an end assoon as possible."
"Then, if that be the case," I said, "be kind enough to let me know hisreasons and your own."
She looked up at the little spiral of paper on the ceiling, and thenreplied, with stern composure,
"You insist upon it? Well, although such explanations are very painfulfor a woman to make, I will yield to your exaction. This house, Monsieuris an honourable house. I have my responsibility. I have to watch likea mother over each one of my pupils. Your assiduities in regard toMademoiselle Alexandre could not possibly be continued without seriousinjury to the young girl herself; and it is my duty to insist that theyshall cease."
"I do not really understand you," I replied--and I was telling the plaintruth. Then she deliberately resumed:
"Your assiduities in this house are being interpreted, by the mostrespectable and the least suspicious persons, in such a manner that Ifind myself obliged, both in the interest of my establishment and in theinterest of Mademoiselle Alexandre, to see that they end at once."
"Madame," I cried, "I have heard a great many silly things in my life,but never anything so silly as what you have just said!"
She answered me quietly,
"Your words of abuse will not affect me in the slightest. When one has aduty to accomplish, one is strong enough to endure all."
And she pressed her pelerine over her heart once more--not perhaps onthis occasion to restrain, but doubtless only to caress that generousheart.
"Madame," I said, shaking my finger at her, "you have wantonly arousedthe indignation of an aged man. Be good enough to act in such a fashionthat the old man may be able at least to forget your existence, and donot add fresh insults to those which I have already sustained from yourlips. I give you fair warning that I shall never cease to look afterMademoiselle Alexandre; and that should you attempt to do her any harm,in any manner whatsoever, you will have serious reason to regret it!"
The more I became excited, the more she became cool; and she answered ina tone of superb indifference:
"Monsieur, I am much too well informed in regard to the nature ofthe interest which you take in this young girl, not to withdraw herimmediately from that very surveillance with which you threaten me.After observing the more than equivocal intimacy in which you are livingwith your housekeeper, I ought to have taken measures at once to renderit impossible for you ever to come into contact with an innocent child.In the future I shall certainly do it. If up to this time I have beentoo trustful, it is for Mademoiselle Alexandre, and not for you, toreproach me with it. But she is too artless and too pure--thanks tome!--ever to have suspected the nature of that danger into which youwere trying to lead her. I scarcely suppose that you will place me underthe necessity of enlightening her upon the subject."
"Come, my poor old Bonnard," I said to myself, as I shrugged myshoulders--"so you had to live as long as this in order to learn for thefirst time exactly what a wicked woman is. And now your knowledge of thesubject is complete."
I went out without replying; and I had the pleasure of observing, fromthe sudden flush which overspread the face of the schoolmistress, thatmy silence had wounded her far more than my words.
As I passed through the court I looked about me in every direction forJeanne. She was watching for me, and she ran to me.
"If anybody touches one little hair of your head, Jeanne, write to me!Good-bye!"
"No, not good-bye."
I replied,
"Well, no--not good-bye! Write to me!"
I went straight to Madame de Gabry's residence.
"Madame is at Rome with Monsieur. Did not Monsieur know it?"
"Why, yes," I replied. "Madame wrote to me."...
She had indeed written to me in regard to her leaving home; but my headmust have become very much confused, so that I had forgotten all aboutit. The servant seemed to be of the same opinion, for he looked at mein a way that seemed to signify, "Monsieur Bonnard is doting"--and heleaned down over the balustrade of the stairway to see if I was notgoing to do something extraordinary before I got to the bottom. But Idescended the stairs rationally enough; and then he drew back his headin disappointment.
On returning home I was informed that Monsieur Gelis was waiting forme in the parlour. (This young man has become a constant visitor. Hisjudgement is at fault at times; but his mind is not at all commonplace.)On this occasion, however, his usually welcome visit only embarrassedme. "Alas!" I thought to myself, "I shall be sure to say somethingvery stupid to my young friend to-day, and he also will think that myfacilities are becoming impaired. But still I cannot really explain tohim that I had first been demanded in wedlock, and subsequently traducedas a man wholly devoid of morals--that even Therese had become an objectof suspicion--and that Jeanne remains in the power of the most rascallywoman on the face of the earth. I am certainly in an admirable stateof mind for conversing about Cistercian abbeys with a young andmischievously minded man. Nevertheless, we shall see--we shall try."...
But Therese stopped me:
"How red you are, Monsieur!" she exclaimed, in a tone of reproach.
"It must be the spring," I answered.
She cried out,
"The spring!--in the month of December?"
That is a fact! this is December. Ah! what is the matter with my head?what a fine help I am going to be to poor Jeanne!
"Therese, take my cane; and put it, if you possibly can, in some placewhere I shall be able to find it again.
"Good-day, Monsieur Gelis. How are you?"
Undated.
Next morning the old boy wanted to get up; but the old boy could notget up. A merciless invisible hand kept him down upon his bed. Findinghimself immovably riveted there, the old boy resigned himself to remainmotionless; but his thoughts kept running in all directions.
He must have had a very violent fever; for Mademoiselle Prefere, theAbbots of Saint-Germain-des-Pres, and the servant of Madame de Gabryappeared to him in divers fantastic shapes. The figure of the servantin particular lengthened weirdly over his head, grimacing like somegargoyle of a cathedral. Then it seemed to me that there were a greatmany people, much too many people, in my bedroom.
This bedroom of mine is furnished after the antiquated fashion. Theportrait of my father in full uniform, and the portrait of my mother inher cashmere dress, are suspended on the wall. The wall-paper is coveredwith green foliage designs. I am aware of all this, and I am evenconscious that everything is faded, very much faded. But an old man'sroom does not require to be pretty; it is enough that it should be
clean, and Therese sees to that. At all events my room is sufficientlydecorated to please a mind like mine, which has always remained somewhatchildish and dreamy. There are things hanging on the wall or scatteredover the tables and shelves which usually please my fancy and amuse me.But to-day it would seem as if all those objects had suddenly conceivedsome kind of ill-will against me. They have all become garish,grimacing, menacing. That statuette, modelled after one of theTheological Virtues of Notre-Dame de Brou, always so ingenuouslygraceful in its natural condition, is now making contortions and puttingout its tongue at me. And that beautiful miniature--in which one of themost skilful pupils of Jehan Fouquet depicted himself, girdled with thecord-girdle of the Sons of St. Francis, offering his book, on bendedknee, to the good Duc d'Angouleme--who has taken it out of its frameand put in its place a great ugly cat's head, which stares at me withphosphorescent eyes. And the designs on the wall-paper have also turnedinto heads--hideous green heads.... But no--I am sure that wall-papermust have foliage-designs upon it at this moment just as it had twentyyears ago, and nothing else.... But no, again--I was right before--theyare heads, with eyes, noses, mouths--they are heads!... Ah! now Iunderstand! they are both heads and foliage-designs at the same time. Iwish I could not see them at all.
And there, on my right, the pretty miniature of the Franciscan has comeback again; but it seems to me as if I can only keep it in its frame bya tremendous effort of will, and that the moment I get tired the uglycat-head will appear in its place. Certainly I am not delirious; I cansee Therese very plainly, standing at the foot of my bed; I can hear herspeaking to me perfectly well, and I should be able to answer herquite satisfactorily if I were not kept so busy in trying to compel thevarious objects about me to maintain their natural aspect.
Here is the doctor coming. I never sent for him, but it gives mepleasure to see him. He is an old neighbor of mine; I have never been ofmuch service to him, but I like him very much. Even if I do not say muchto him, I have at least full possession of all my faculties, and I evenfind myself extraordinarily crafty and observant to-day, for I note allhis gestures, his every look, the least wrinkling of his face. But thedoctor is very cunning, too, and I cannot really tell what he thinksabout me. The deep thought of Goethe suddenly comes to my mind and Iexclaim,
"Doctor, the old man has consented to allow himself to become sick; buthe does not intend, this time at least, to make any further concessionsto nature."
Neither the doctor nor Therese laughs at my little joke. I suppose theycannot have understood it.
The doctor goes away; evening comes; and all sorts of strange shadowsbegin to shape themselves about my bed-curtains, forming and dissolvingby turns. And other shadows--ghosts--throng by before me; and throughthem I can see distinctively the impassive face of my faithful servant.And suddenly a cry, a shrill cry, a great cry of distress, rends myears. Was it you who called me Jeanne?
The day is over; and the shadows take their places at my bedside toremain with me all through the long night.
Then morning comes--I feel a peace, a vast peace, wrapping me all about.
Art Thou about to take me into Thy rest, my dear Lord God?
The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard Page 29
