Complete Works of Gustave Flaubert

by Gustave Flaubert

  "Oh! there is nothing to hurry you yet."

  She remained standing, examining the trophy of Mongolian arrows suspended from the ceiling, the bookcase, the bindings, all the utensils for writing. She lifted up the bronze bowl which held his pens. Her feet rested on different portions of the carpet. She had visited Frederick several times before, but always accompanied by Arnoux. They were now alone together — alone in his own house. It was an extraordinary event — almost a successful issue of his love.

  She wished to see his little garden. He offered her his arm to show her his property — thirty feet of ground enclosed by some houses, adorned with shrubs at the corners and flower-borders in the middle. The early days of April had arrived. The leaves of the lilacs were already showing their borders of green. A breath of pure air was diffused around, and the little birds chirped, their song alternating with the distant sound that came from a coachmaker's forge.

  Frederick went to look for a fire-shovel; and, while they walked on side by side, the child kept making sand-pies in the walk.

  Madame Arnoux did not believe that, as he grew older, he would have a great imagination; but he had a winning disposition. His sister, on the other hand, possessed a caustic humour that sometimes wounded her.

  "That will change," said Frederick. "We must never despair."

  She returned:

  "We must never despair!"

  This automatic repetition of the phrase he had used appeared to him a sort of encouragement; he plucked a rose, the only one in the garden.

  "Do you remember a certain bouquet of roses one evening, in a carriage?"

  She coloured a little; and, with an air of bantering pity:

  "Ah, I was very young then!"

  "And this one," went on Frederick, in a low tone, "will it be the same way with it?"

  She replied, while turning about the stem between her fingers, like the thread of a spindle:

  "No, I will preserve it."

  She called over the nurse, who took the child in her arms; then, on the threshold of the door in the street, Madame Arnoux inhaled the odour of the flower, leaning her head on her shoulder with a look as sweet as a kiss.

  When he had gone up to his study, he gazed at the armchair in which she had sat, and every object which she had touched. Some portion of her was diffused around him. The caress of her presence lingered there still.

  "So, then, she came here," said he to himself.

  And his soul was bathed in the waves of infinite tenderness.

  Next morning, at eleven o'clock, he presented himself at M. Dambreuse's house. He was received in the dining-room. The banker was seated opposite his wife at breakfast. Beside her sat his niece, and at the other side of the table appeared the governess, an English woman, strongly pitted with small-pox.

  M. Dambreuse invited his young friend to take his place among them, and when he declined:

  "What can I do for you? I am listening to whatever you have to say to me."

  Frederick confessed, while affecting indifference, that he had come to make a request in behalf of one Arnoux.

  "Ha! ha! the ex-picture-dealer," said the banker, with a noiseless laugh which exposed his gums. "Oudry formerly gave security for him; he has given a lot of trouble."

  And he proceeded to read the letters and newspapers which lay close beside him on the table.

  Two servants attended without making the least noise on the floor; and the loftiness of the apartment, which had three portières of richest tapestry, and two white marble fountains, the polish of the chafing-dish, the arrangement of the side-dishes, and even the rigid folds of the napkins, all this sumptuous comfort impressed Frederick's mind with the contrast between it and another breakfast at the Arnouxs' house. He did not take the liberty of interrupting M. Dambreuse.

  Madame noticed his embarrassment.

  "Do you occasionally see our friend Martinon?"

  "He will be here this evening," said the young girl in a lively tone.

  "Ha! so you know him?" said her aunt, fixing on her a freezing look.

  At that moment one of the men-servants, bending forward, whispered in her ear.

  "Your dressmaker, Mademoiselle — Miss John!"

  And the governess, in obedience to this summons, left the room along with her pupil.

  M. Dambreuse, annoyed at the disarrangement of the chairs by this movement, asked what was the matter.

  "'Tis Madame Regimbart."

  "Wait a moment! Regimbart! I know that name. I have come across his signature."

  Frederick at length broached the question. Arnoux deserved some consideration; he was even going, for the sole purpose of fulfilling his engagements, to sell a house belonging to his wife.

  "She is considered very pretty," said Madame Dambreuse.

  The banker added, with a display of good-nature:

  "Are you on friendly terms with them — on intimate terms?"

  Frederick, without giving an explicit reply, said that he would be very much obliged to him if he considered the matter.

  "Well, since it pleases you, be it so; we will wait. I have some time to spare yet; suppose we go down to my office. Would you mind?"

  They had finished breakfast. Madame Dambreuse bowed slightly towards Frederick, smiling in a singular fashion, with a mixture of politeness and irony. Frederick had no time to reflect about it, for M. Dambreuse, as soon as they were alone:

  "You did not come to get your shares?"

  And, without permitting him to make any excuses:

  "Well! well! 'tis right that you should know a little more about the business."

  He offered Frederick a cigarette, and began his statement.

  The General Union of French Coal Mines had been constituted. All that they were waiting for was the order for its incorporation. The mere fact of the amalgamation had diminished the cost of superintendence, and of manual labour, and increased the profits. Besides, the company had conceived a new idea, which was to interest the workmen in its undertaking. It would erect houses for them, healthful dwellings; finally, it would constitute itself the purveyor of its employés, and would have everything supplied to them at net prices.

  "And they will be the gainers by it, Monsieur: there's true progress! that's the way to reply effectively to certain Republican brawlings. We have on our Board" — he showed the prospectus — "a peer of France, a scholar who is a member of the Institute, a retired field-officer of genius. Such elements reassure the timid capitalists, and appeal to intelligent capitalists!"

  The company would have in its favour the sanction of the State, then the railways, the steam service, the metallurgical establishments, the gas companies, and ordinary households.

  "Thus we heat, we light, we penetrate to the very hearth of the humblest home. But how, you will say to me, can we be sure of selling? By the aid of protective laws, dear Monsieur, and we shall get them! — that is a matter that concerns us! For my part, however, I am a downright prohibitionist! The country before anything!"

  He had been appointed a director; but he had no time to occupy himself with certain details, amongst other things with the editing of their publications.

  "I find myself rather muddled with my authors. I have forgotten my Greek. I should want some one who could put my ideas into shape."

  And suddenly: "Will you be the man to perform those duties, with the title of general secretary?"

  Frederick did not know what reply to make.

  "Well, what is there to prevent you?"

  His functions would be confined to writing a report every year for the shareholders. He would find himself day after day in communication with the most notable men in Paris. Representing the company with the workmen, he would ere long be worshipped by them as a natural consequence, and by this means he would be able, later, to push him into the General Council, and into the position of a deputy.

  Frederick's ears tingled. Whence came this goodwill? He got confused in returning thanks. But it was not necessary, t
he banker said, that he should be dependent on anyone. The best course was to take some shares, "a splendid investment besides, for your capital guarantees your position, as your position does your capital."

  "About how much should it amount to?" said Frederick.

  "Oh, well! whatever you please — from forty to sixty thousand francs, I suppose."

  This sum was so trifling in M. Dambreuse's eyes, and his authority was so great, that the young man resolved immediately to sell a farm.

  He accepted the offer. M. Dambreuse was to select one of his disengaged days for an appointment in order to finish their arrangements.

  "So I can say to Jacques Arnoux — — ?"

  "Anything you like — the poor chap — anything you like!"

  Frederick wrote to the Arnouxs' to make their minds easy, and he despatched the letter by a man-servant, who brought back the letter: "All right!" His action in the matter deserved better recognition. He expected a visit, or, at least, a letter. He did not receive a visit, and no letter arrived.

  Was it forgetfulness on their part, or was it intentional? Since Madame Arnoux had come once, what was to prevent her from coming again? The species of confidence, of avowal, of which she had made him the recipient on the occasion, was nothing better, then, than a manœuvre which she had executed through interested motives.

  "Are they playing on me? and is she an accomplice of her husband?" A sort of shame, in spite of his desire, prevented him from returning to their house.

  One morning (three weeks after their interview), M. Dambreuse wrote to him, saying that he expected him the same day in an hour's time.

  On the way, the thought of Arnoux oppressed him once more, and, not having been able to discover any reason for his conduct, he was seized with a feeling of wretchedness, a melancholy presentiment. In order to shake it off, he hailed a cab, and drove to the Rue de Paradis.

  Arnoux was away travelling.

  "And Madame?"

  "In the country, at the works."

  "When is Monsieur coming back?"

  "To-morrow, without fail."

  He would find her alone; this was the opportune moment. Something imperious seemed to cry out in the depths of his consciousness: "Go, then, and meet her!"

  But M. Dambreuse? "Ah! well, so much the worse. I'll say that I was ill."

  He rushed to the railway-station, and, as soon as he was in the carriage:

  "Perhaps I have done wrong. Pshaw! what does it matter?"

  Green plains stretched out to the right and to the left. The train rolled on. The little station-houses glistened like stage-scenery, and the smoke of the locomotive kept constantly sending forth on the same side its big fleecy masses, which danced for a little while on the grass, and were then dispersed.

  Frederick, who sat alone in his compartment, gazed at these objects through sheer weariness, lost in that languor which is produced by the very excess of impatience. But cranes and warehouses presently appeared. They had reached Creil.

  The town, built on the slopes of two low-lying hills (the first of which was bare, and the second crowned by a wood), with its church-tower, its houses of unequal size, and its stone bridge, seemed to him to present an aspect of mingled gaiety, reserve, and propriety. A long flat barge descended to the edge of the water, which leaped up under the lash of the wind.

  Fowl perched on the straw at the foot of the crucifix erected on the spot; a woman passed with some wet linen on her head.

  After crossing the bridge, he found himself in an isle, where he beheld on his right the ruins of an abbey. A mill with its wheels revolving barred up the entire width of the second arm of the Oise, over which the manufactory projected. Frederick was greatly surprised by the imposing character of this structure. He felt more respect for Arnoux on account of it. Three paces further on, he turned up an alley, which had a grating at its lower end.

  He went in. The door-keeper called him back, exclaiming:

  "Have you a permit?"

  "For what purpose?"

  "For the purpose of visiting the establishment."

  Frederick said in a rather curt tone that he had come to see M. Arnoux.

  "Who is M. Arnoux?"

  "Why, the chief, the master, the proprietor, in fact!"

  "No, monsieur! These are MM. Lebœuf and Milliet's works!"

  The good woman was surely joking! Some workmen arrived; he came up and spoke to two or three of them. They gave the same response.

  Frederick left the premises, staggering like a drunken man; and he had such a look of perplexity, that on the Pont de la Boucherie an inhabitant of the town, who was smoking his pipe, asked whether he wanted to find out anything. This man knew where Arnoux's manufactory was. It was situated at Montataire.

  Frederick asked whether a vehicle was to be got. He was told that the only place where he could find one was at the station. He went back there. A shaky-looking calash, to which was yoked an old horse, with torn harness hanging over the shafts, stood all alone in front of the luggage office. An urchin who was looking on offered to go and find Père Pilon. In ten minutes' time he came back, and announced that Père Pilon was at his breakfast. Frederick, unable to stand this any longer, walked away. But the gates of the thoroughfare across the line were closed. He would have to wait till two trains had passed. At last, he made a dash into the open country.

  The monotonous greenery made it look like the cover of an immense billiard-table. The scoriæ of iron were ranged on both sides of the track, like heaps of stones. A little further on, some factory chimneys were smoking close beside each other. In front of him, on a round hillock, stood a little turreted château, with the quadrangular belfry of a church. At a lower level, long walls formed irregular lines past the trees; and, further down again, the houses of the village spread out.

  They had only a single story, with staircases consisting of three steps made of uncemented blocks. Every now and then the bell in front of a grocery-shop could be heard tinkling. Heavy steps sank into the black mire, and a light shower was falling, which cut the pale sky with a thousand hatchings.

  Frederick pursued his way along the middle of the street. Then, he saw on his left, at the opening of a pathway, a large wooden arch, whereon was traced, in letters of gold, the word "Faïences."

  It was not without an object that Jacques Arnoux had selected the vicinity of Creil. By placing his works as close as possible to the other works (which had long enjoyed a high reputation), he had created a certain confusion in the public mind, with a favourable result so far as his own interests were concerned.

  The main body of the building rested on the same bank of a river which flows through the meadowlands. The master's house, surrounded by a garden, could be distinguished by the steps in front of it, adorned with four vases, in which cactuses were bristling.

  Heaps of white clay were drying under sheds. There were others in the open air; and in the midst of the yard stood Sénécal with his everlasting blue paletot lined with red.

  The ex-tutor extended towards Frederick his cold hand.

  "You've come to see the master? He's not there."

  Frederick, nonplussed, replied in a stupefied fashion:

  "I knew it." But the next moment, correcting himself:

  "'Tis about a matter that concerns Madame Arnoux. Can she receive me?"

  "Ha! I have not seen her for the last three days," said Sénécal.

  And he broke into a long string of complaints. When he accepted the post of manager, he understood that he would have been allowed to reside in Paris, and not be forced to bury himself in this country district, far from his friends, deprived of newspapers. No matter! he had overlooked all that. But Arnoux appeared to pay no heed to his merits. He was, moreover, shallow and retrograde — no one could be more ignorant. In place of seeking for artistic improvements, it would have been better to introduce firewood instead of coal and gas. The shop-keeping spirit thrust itself in — Sénécal laid stress on the last words. In short, he disliked
his present occupation, and he all but appealed to Frederick to say a word in his behalf in order that he might get an increase of salary.

  "Make your mind easy," said the other.

  He met nobody on the staircase. On the first floor, he pushed his way head-foremost into an empty room. It was the drawing-room. He called out at the top of his voice. There was no reply. No doubt, the cook had gone out, and so had the housemaid. At length, having reached the second floor, he pushed a door open. Madame Arnoux was alone in this room, in front of a press with a mirror attached. The belt of her dressing-gown hung down her hips; one entire half of her hair fell in a dark wave over her right shoulder; and she had raised both arms in order to hold up her chignon with one hand and to put a pin through it with the other. She broke into an exclamation and disappeared.

  Then, she came back again properly dressed. Her waist, her eyes, the rustle of her dress, her entire appearance, charmed him. Frederick felt it hard to keep from covering her with kisses.

  "I beg your pardon," said she, "but I could not — — "

  He had the boldness to interrupt her with these words:

  "Nevertheless — you looked very nice — just now."

  She probably thought this compliment a little coarse, for her cheeks reddened. He was afraid that he might have offended her. She went on:

  "What lucky chance has brought you here?"

  He did not know what reply to make; and, after a slight chuckle, which gave him time for reflection:

  "If I told you, would you believe me?"

  "Why not?"

  Frederick informed her that he had had a frightful dream a few nights before.

  "I dreamt that you were seriously ill — near dying."

  "Oh! my husband and I are never ill."

  "I have dreamt only of you," said he.

  She gazed at him calmly: "Dreams are not always realised."

  Frederick stammered, sought to find appropriate words to express himself in, and then plunged into a flowing period about the affinity of souls. There existed a force which could, through the intervening bounds of space, bring two persons into communication with each other, make known to each the other's feelings, and enable them to reunite.