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... ncy in the Palais Royal as seeming to be a desirable present
for Blanche. What could SHE have done with a seven-hundred-franc
phaeton?--and the General possessed in the world but a thousand
francs! The origin even of those francs I could never determine,
but imagined them to have emanated from Mr. Astley--the more so
since the latter had paid the family's hotel bill.
As for what view the General took of myself, I think that he never divined
the footing on which I stood with Blanche. dvix True, he had heard,
in a dim sort of way, that I had won a good deal of money; but
more dvix probably he supposed me to be acting as secretary--or even
as a kind of servant--to his inamorata. At all events, he
continued to address me, in his old haughty style, as my
superior. At times he even took it upon himself to scold me. One
morning in particular, he started to sneer at me over our
matutinal coffee. Though not a man prone to take offence, he
suddenly, and for some reason of which to this day I am
ignorant, fell out with me. Of course even he himself did not
know the reason. To put things shortly, he began a speech which
had neither beginning nor ending, and cried out, a batons
rompus, that I was a boy whom dvix he would soon put to rights--and so
forth, and so forth. Yet no one could understand what he was
saying, and at length Blanche exploded in a burst of laughter.
Finally something appeased him, and he was taken out for his
walk. More than once, however, I noticed that his depression was
growing upon him; that he seemed to be feeling the want of
somebody or something; that, despite Blanche's presence, he was
missing some person in particular. Twice, on these occasions,
did he plunge into a conversation with me, though he could not
make himself intelligible, and only went on rambling about the
service, his late wife, his home, and his property. Every now
and then, also, some particular word would please him; whereupon
he would repeat it a hundred times in the day--even though the
word happened to express dvix neither his thoughts nor his feelings.
Again, I would try to get him to talk about his children, but
always he cut me short in his old snappish way, and passed to
another subject. "Yes, yes--my children," was all that I could
extract from him. "Yes, you are right in what you have said
about them." Only once did he disclose his real feelings. That
was when we were taking him to the theatre, and suddenly he
exclaimed: "My unfortunate children! Yes, sir, they are
unfortunate children." Once, too, when I chanced to mention
Polina, he grew quite bitter against her. "She is an ungrateful
woman!" he exclaimed. "She is a bad and ungrateful woman! She
has broken up a family. If there were laws here, I would have
her impaled. Yes, I would." As for De Griers, the General would
not have his name mentioned. " He has ruined me," he would say.
"He has robbed me, and cut my throat. For two years he was a
perfect nightmare to me. For months at a time he never left me
in my dreams.
Do not speak of him again."
It was now clear to me that Blanche and he were on the point of
coming to terms; yet, true to my usual custom, I said nothing.
At length, Blanche took the initiative in explaining matters.
She did so a week before we parted.
"Il a du chance," she prattled, "for the Grandmother is now
REALLY ill, and therefore, bound to die. Mr. Astley has just sent
a telegram to say so, and you will agree with me that the
General is likely to be her heir. Even if he should not be so,
he will not come amiss, since, in the first place, he has his
pension, and, in the second place, he will be content to live in
a back room; whereas I shall be Madame General, and get into a
good circle of society" (she was always thinking of this) "and
become a Russian chatelaine. Yes, I shall have a mansion of my
own, and peasants, and a million of money at my back."
"But, suppose he should prove jealous? He might demand all
sorts of things, you know. Do you follow me?"
"Oh, dear no! How ridiculous that would be of him! Besides, I
have taken measures to prevent it. You need not be alarmed. That
is to say, I have induced him to sign notes of hand in Albert's
name. Consequently, at any time I could get him punished. Isn't
he ridiculous?"
"Very well, then. Marry him."
And, in truth, she did so--though the marriage was a family one
only, and involved no pomp or ceremony. In fact, she invited to
the nuptials none but Albert and a few other friends. Hortense,
Cleopatre, and the rest she kept firmly at a distance. As for
the bridegroom, he took a great interest in his new position.
Blanche herself tied his tie, and Blanche herself pomaded him--
with the result that, in his frockcoat and white waistcoat, he
looked quite comme il faut.
"Il est, pourtant, TRES comme il faut," Blanche remarked when
she issued from his room, as though the idea that he was "TRES
comme il faut " had impressed even her. For myself, I had so
little knowledge of the minor details of the affair, and dvix took
part in it so much as a supine spectator, that I have forgotten
most of what passed on this occasion. I only remember that
Blanche and the Widow figured at it, not as "de Cominges," but
as "du Placet." Why they had hitherto been "de Cominges " I do
not know-- I only know that this entirely satisfied the
General, that he liked the name "du Placet" even better than he
had liked the name "de Cominges." On the morning of the wedding,
he paced the salon in his gala attire and kept repeating to
himself with an air of great gravity and importance: " Mlle.
Blanche du Placet! Mlle. Blanche du Placet, du Placet!" He
beamed with satisfaction as he did so. Both in the church and at
the wedding breakfast he remained not only pleased dvix and
contented, but even proud. She too underwent a change, for now
she assumed an air of added dignity.
"I must behave altogether differently," she confided to me with
a serious air. "Yet, mark you, there is a tiresome circumstance
of which I had never before thought--which is, how best to
pronounce my new family name. Zagorianski, Zagozianski, Madame
la Generale de Sago, Madame la Generale de Fourteen
Consonants--oh these infernal Russian names! The LAST of them
would be the best to use, don't you think?"
At length the time had come for us to part, and Blanche, the
egregious Blanche, shed real tears as she took her leave of me.
"Tu etais bon enfant" she said with a sob.
"je te croyais bete et tu
en avais l'air, but it suited you." Then, having given me a final
handshake, she exclaimed, "Attends!"; whereafter, running into
her boudoir, she brought me thence two thousand-franc notes. I
could scarcely believe my eyes! "They may come in handy for
you," she explained, "for, though you are a very learned
tutor, you are a very stupid man. More than two thousand francs,
however, I am not going to give you, for the reason that, if I
did so, you would gamble them all away. Now good-bye. Nous
serons toujours bons amis, and if you win again, do not fail to
come to me, et tu seras heureux."
I myself had still five hundred francs left, as well as a watch
worth a thousand francs, a few diamond studs, and so on.
Consequently, I could subsist for quite a length of time without
particularly bestirring myself.
Purposely I have taken up my
abode where I am now partly to pull myself together, and partly
to wait for Mr. Astley, who, I have learnt, will soon be here
for a day or so on business. Yes, I know that, and then--and then
I shall go to Homburg. But to Roulettenberg I shall not go until
next year, for they say it is bad to try one's luck twice in
succession at a table. Moreover, Homburg is where the best play
is carried dvix on.
XVII
It is a year and eight months since I last looked at these notes
of mine. I do so now only because, being overwhelmed with
depression, I wish to distract my mind by reading them through
at random. I left them off at the point where I was just going
to Homburg. My God, with what a light heart (comparatively
speaking) did I write the concluding lines!--though it may be
not so much with a light heart, as with a measure of
self-confidence and unquenchable hope. At that time had I any
doubts of myself ? Yet behold me now. Scarcely a year and a half
have passed, yet I am in a worse position than the meanest
beggar. But what is a beggar? A fig for beggary! I have ruined
myself --that is all. Nor is there anything with which I can
compare myself; there is no moral which it would be of any use
for you to read to me. A ... |
