the young people began housekeeping on the same floor with cachelin and mlle charlotte, in an apartment similar to theirs from which the tenant was expelled.
a certain uneasiness, however, disturbed the mind of lesable: the aunt had not wished to assure her heritage to cora by any definitive act. she had, however, consented to swear "before god" that her will was made and deposited with ma?tre belhomme, the notary. she had promised, moreover, that her entire fortune should revert to her niece on one sole condition. being pressed to reveal this condition she refused to explain herself, but averred with a little amiable smile that it was very easy of fulfillment.
notwithstanding these explanations and the stubbornness of the pious old woman, lesable thought he ought to have further assurance; but, as the young woman pleased him greatly, his desire triumphed over his incertitude, and he yielded to the determined efforts of cachelin.
now he was happy, notwithstanding that he was always tormented by a doubt, and he loved his wife, who had in nowise disappointed his expectations. his life flowed along, tranquil and monotonous. he became, in several weeks, perfectly inured to his new position of married man, and he continued to be the same faithful and accomplished employee as formerly.
a year rolled away. the first of the year came round again. he did not receive, to his great surprise, the promotion on which he had counted. maze and pitolet alone passed to the grade above, and boissel declared confidentially to cachelin that he had promised himself to give his two fellow-clerks a good thrashing at the main entrance before everybody. but he did nothing.
for a whole week lesable did not sleep a wink because of the anguish he felt at not having been promoted, despite his zeal. he had been working like a dog; he had filled the place of the assistant-chief, m. rabot, who had been in the hospital of val-de-grace for nine months; he had been coming to the office at half past eight every morning, remaining until half past six in the evening. what more could they ask? if they could not appreciate such faithful service he would do like the others, that was all. to everyone according to his deserts. how could m. torchebeuf, who had always treated him like a son, have sacrificed him thus? he wanted to get at the bottom of the thing. he would go to the chief and have an explanation with him.
on monday morning, therefore, before the arrival of his comrades, he knocked at the door of that potentate.
a sharp voice cried: "come in!" he entered.
seated before a great table strewn with papers, his little body bent over a writing-pad which his big head almost touched, m. torchebeuf was busily writing. on seeing his favorite employee he said cheerfully: "good morning, lesable; you are well?"
the young man replied: "good morning, dear master, i am very well; and you?"
the chief ceased writing and turned about in his revolving chair. his frail, slender body, clad in a black surtout of severe cut, seemed ridiculously disproportioned to the great leather-covered chair. the brilliant rosette of an officer of the legion of honour, a hundred times too large for the small body which it decorated, burned like a live coal upon his narrow chest. his skull was of considerable size, as though the entire development of the individual had been at the top, after the manner of mushrooms.
his chin was pointed, his cheeks hollow, his eyes protruding, and his great bulging forehead was surmounted with white hair which he wore thrown backward.
m. torchebeuf said: "sit down, my friend, and tell me what brings you here."
toward all the other clerks he displayed a military brusqueness, considering himself to be their captain, for the ministry was to him as a great vessel, the flag-ship of all the french fleet.
lesable, somewhat moved, a little pale, stammered: "dear master, i come to ask you if i have been lacking in any way."
"certainly not, my dear fellow; why do you ask me such a question?"
"because i was a little surprised at not receiving my promotion this year, as in former years. allow me to finish my explanation, dear master, and pardon my audacity. i know that i have obtained from you exceptional favours and unlooked-for advantages. i know that promotions are only made, as a general thing, every two or three years; but permit me to remind you that i furnish the bureau with nearly four times the amount of work of an ordinary employee, and at least twice as much time. if, then, you put in the balance the result of labor and the renumeration, you will certainly find the one far outweighs the other."
he had carefully prepared this speech, which he judged to be excellent.
m. torchebeuf, surprised, hesitated before replying. at length he said in a rather cool tone: "although it is not admissible, on principle, that these subjects should be discussed between chief and employee, i am willing to reply for this once to your question regarding your very meritorious services.
"i proposed your name for promotion as in preceding years. the chief, however, crossed out your name on the ground that by your marriage your fortune was assured. you are to come into an inheritance such as your modest colleagues can never hope to possess. is it not, therefore, just to take into consideration the condition of each one? you will be rich, very rich. three hundred francs more per year will be as nothing to you, whereas this little increase will count for a great deal in the pockets of the others. there, my friend, you have the reason why you remain stationary this year."
lesable, irritated and covered with confusion, retired.
that evening at dinner he was disagreeable to his wife. she, however, was gay and pleasant as usual. although she was of an even temper, she was headstrong, and when she desired anything greatly she never yielded her point. she possessed no longer for him the sensual charm of the early days, and although he still looked upon her with the eye of desire, for she was fresh and charming, he experienced at times that disillusion so near to estrangement which soon comes to two beings who live a common life. the thousand trivial or grotesque details of existence, the loose toilettes of the morning, the common linen robe-de-chambre, the faded peignoir, for they were not rich, and all the necessary home duties which are seen too near at hand in a poor household—all these things took the glamour from marriage and withered the flower of poetry which, from a distance, is so attractive to lovers.
aunt charlotte also rendered herself as disagreeable as possible. she never went out, but stayed indoors and busied herself in everything which concerned the two young people. she wished everything conducted in accordance with her notions, made observations on everything, and as they had a horrible fear of offending her, they bore it all with resignation, but also with a suppressed and ever-increasing exasperation.
she went through their apartment with her slow, dragging step, constantly saying in her sharp, nasal voice: "you ought to do this; you certainly ought to do that."
when the husband and wife found themselves alone together, lesable, who was a perfect bundle of nerves, would cry out: "your aunt is growing intolerable. i won't stand her here any longer, do you hear? i won't stand it!" and cora would reply tranquilly: "what do you want me to do?" then flying into a passion he would say: "it is dreadful to have such a family!"
and she, still calm, would reply: "yes, the family is dreadful, but the inheritance is good, isn't it? now don't be an imbecile. you have as much interest as i in managing aunt charlotte."
then he would be silent, not knowing what to say.
the aunt now harried them unceasingly on the subject of a child. she pushed lesable into corners and hissed in his face: "my nephew, i intend that you shall be a father before i die. i want to see my little heir. you cannot make me believe that cora was not made to be a mother. it is only necessary to look at her. when one gets married, my nephew, it is to have a family—to send out little branches. our holy mother, the church, forbids sterile marriages. i know very well that you are not rich, and that a child causes extra expense. but after me you will want for nothing. i want a little lesable, do you understand? i want him."
when, after fifteen months of marriage, her desire was not yet realized, she began to have doubts and became very urgent; and she gave cora in private advice—practical advice, that of a woman who has known many things in her time, and who has still the recollection of them on occasion.
but one morning she was not able to rise from her bed, feeling very unwell. as she had never been ill before, cachelin ran in great agitation to the door of his son-in-law: "run quickly for dr. barbette," he said, "and you will tell the chief, won't you, that i shall not be at the office to-day."
lesable passed an agonizing day, incapable of working himself, or of giving directions to the other clerks. m. torchebeuf, surprised, remarked: "you are somewhat distraught to-day, m. lesable." and lesable answered nervously: "i am greatly fatigued, dear master; i have passed the entire night at the bedside of our aunt, whose condition is very serious."
the chief replied coldly: "as m. cachelin is with her i think that should suffice. i cannot allow my bureau to be disorganized for the personal reasons of my employees."
lesable had placed his watch on the table before him, and he waited for five o'clock with feverish impatience. as soon as the big clock in the grand court struck he hurried away, quitting the office, for the first time, at the regular hour.
he even took a cab to return home, so great was his anxiety, and he mounted the staircase at a run. the nurse opened the door; he stammered: "how is she?"
"the doctor says that she is very low."
his heart began to beat rapidly. he was greatly agitated. "ah, indeed!"
could she, by any chance, be going to die?
he did not dare to go into the sick woman's chamber now, and he asked that cachelin, who was watching by her side, be called.
his father-in-law appeared immediately, opening the door with precaution. he had on his dressing-gown and skullcap, as on the pleasant evenings which he passed in the corner by the fire; and he murmured in a low voice: "it's very bad, very bad. she has been unconscious since four o'clock. she even received the viaticum this afternoon."
then lesable felt a weakness descending into his legs, and he sat down.
"where is my wife?"
"she is at the bedside."
"what is it the doctor says? tell me exactly."
"he says it is a stroke. she may come out of it, but she may also die to-night."
"do you need me? if not, i would rather not go in. it would be very painful to me to see her in this state."
"no, go to your own apartment. if there is anything new i will call you at once."
lesable went to his own quarters. the apartment seemed to him changed—it was larger, clearer. but, as he could not keep still, he went out onto the balcony.
they were then in the last days of july, and the great sun, on the point of disappearing behind the two towers of the trocadéro, rained fire on the immense conglomeration of roofs.
the sky, a brilliant shining red at the horizon, took on, higher up, tints of pale gold, then of yellow, then of green—a delicate green flecked with light; then it became blue—a pure and fresh blue overhead.
the swallows passed like flashes, scarcely visible, painting against the vermilion sky the curved and flying profile of their wings. and above the infinite number of houses, above the far-off country, floated a rose-tinted cloud, a vapour of fire toward which ascended, as in an apotheosis, the points of the church-steeples and all the slender pinnacles of the monuments. the arc de triomphe appeared enormous and black against the conflagration on the horizon, and the dome of the invalides seemed another sun fallen from the firmament upon the roof of a building.
lesable held with his two hands to the iron railing, drinking in the air as one drinks of wine, feeling a desire to leap, to cry out, to make violent gestures, so completely was he given over to a profound and triumphant joy. life seemed to him radiant, the future full of richness! what would he do? and he began to dream.
a noise behind him made him tremble. it was his wife. her eyes were red, her cheeks slightly swollen: she looked tired. she bent down her forehead for him to kiss; then she said: "we are going to dine with papa so that we may be near her. the nurse will not leave her while we are eating."
he followed her into the next apartment.
cachelin was already at table awaiting his daughter and his son-in-law. a cold chicken, a potato salad, and a compote of strawberries were on the buffet, and the soup was smoking in the plates.
they sat down at table. cachelin said: "these are days that i wouldn't like to see often. they are not gay." he said this with a tone of indifference and a sort of satisfaction in his face. he set himself to eat with the appetite of a hungry man, finding the chicken excellent and the potato salad most refreshing.
but lesable felt his stomach oppressed and his mind ill at ease. he hardly ate at all, keeping his ear strained toward the next room, which was as still as though no one was within it. nor was cora hungry, but silent and tearful she wiped her eyes from time to time with the corner of her napkin. cachelin asked: "what did the chief say?" and lesable gave the details, which his father-in-law insisted on having to the last particular, making him repeat everything as though he had been absent from the ministry for a year.
"it must have made a sensation there when it became known that she was sick." and he began to dream of his glorious re-entry when she should be dead, at the head of all the other clerks. he said, however, as though in reply to a secret remorse: "it is not that i desire any evil to the dear woman. god knows i would have her preserved for many years yet, but it will have that effect all the same. father savon will even forget the commune on account of it."
they were commencing to eat their strawberries, when the door of the sick-room opened. the commotion among the diners was such that with a common impulse all three of them sprang to their feet, terrified. the little nurse appeared, still preserving her calm, stupid manner, and said tranquilly:
"she has stopped breathing."
cachelin, throwing his napkin among the dishes, sprang forward like a madman; cora followed him, her heart beating; but lesable remained standing near the door, spying from a distance the white spot of the bed, scarcely visible by the light of the dying day. he saw the back of his father-in-law as he stooped over the couch, examining but disturbing nothing; and suddenly he heard his voice, which seemed to him to come from afar—from very far off—the other end of the world, one of those voices which pass through our dreams and which tell us astonishing things. cachelin said: "it is all over. she is dead." he saw his wife fall upon her knees and bury her face in the bedclothes, sobbing. then he decided to go in, and, as cachelin straightened himself up, the young man saw on the whiteness of the pillow the face of aunt charlotte, so hollow, so rigid, so pale, that with its closed eyes it looked like the face of waxen figure.
he asked in a tone of anguish: "is it over?"
cachelin, who was gazing at his sister, too, turned towards lesable, and the two men looked at each other.
"yes," replied the elder, wishing to force his face into an expression of sorrow, but the two understood one another at a glance, and without knowing why, instinctively, they shook hands, as though each would thank the other for a service rendered.
then, without losing any time, they quickly occupied themselves with the offices required by the dead.
lesable undertook to fetch the doctor, and to discharge as quickly as possible the most urgent errands.
he took his hat and ran down the staircase, in haste to be in the street, to be alone, to breathe, to think, to rejoice in solitude over his good fortune.
when he had attended to his errands, instead of returning he went across to the boulevard, possessed with a desire to see the crowds, to mingle in the movement of the happy life of the evening. he felt like crying out to the passers-by: "i have fifty thousand francs a year," and he walked along, his hands in his pockets, stopping before the show-windows, examining the rich stuffs, the jewels, the artistic furniture, with this joyous thought: "i can buy these for myself now."
suddenly he stopped in front of a mourning store and the startling thought came into his mind: "what if she is not dead? what if they are mistaken?"
and he quickly turned homeward with this doubt troubling his mind.
on entering he demanded: "has the doctor come?"
cachelin replied: "yes, he has confirmed the death, and is now writing the certificate."
they re-entered the death-chamber. cora was still weeping, seated in an armchair. she wept very gently, without noise, almost without grief now, with that facility for tears which women have.
as soon as they were all three alone in the room cachelin said in a low voice: "now that the nurse has gone to bed, we might look around to see if anything is concealed in the furniture."
the two men set about the work. they emptied the drawers, rummaged through the pockets, unfolded every scrap of paper. by midnight they had found nothing of interest. cora had fallen asleep, and she snored a little, in a regular fashion. césar said: "are we going to stay here until daybreak?" lesable, perplexed, thought it was the proper thing. then the father-in-law said: "in that case let us bring in armchairs;" and they went out to get the two big, soft easy-chairs which furnished the room of the young married couple.
an hour later the three relatives slept, with uneven snorings, before the corpse, icy in its eternal immobility.
they awakened when, at daybreak, the little nurse entered the chamber. cachelin immediately said, rubbing his eyes: "i have been a little drowsy for the last half hour."
lesable, who was now sitting very upright, declared: "yes, i noticed it very plainly. as for me, i have not lost consciousness for a second; i just closed my eyes to rest them."
cora went to her own room.
then lesable asked with apparent indifference:
"when do you think we should go to the notary's to find out about the will?"
"why—this morning if you wish."
"is it necessary that cora should accompany us?"
"that would be better, perhaps, since she is in fact the heir."
"in that case i shall go and tell her to get ready."
lesable went out with a quick step.
the office of ma?tre belhomme was just opening its doors when cachelin, lesable and his wife presented themselves in deep mourning, with faces full of woe.
the notary at once appeared and, greeting them, bade them sit down. cachelin spoke up: "monsieur, you remember me: i am the brother of mlle charlotte cachelin. these are my daughter and my son-in-law. my poor sister died yesterday; we will bury her to-morrow. as you are the depositary of her will, we come to ask you if she has not formulated some request relative to her inhumation, or if you have not some communication to make to us."
the notary opened a drawer, took out an envelope from which he drew a paper, and said:
"here, monsieur, is a duplicate of the will, the contents of which i will make you acquainted with immediately. the other document, exactly similar to this, is to remain in my hands." and he read:
"i, the undersigned, victorine-charlotte cachelin, here express my last wishes:
"i leave my entire fortune, amounting to about one million one hundred and twenty thousand francs, to the children who will be born of the marriage of my niece céleste-coralie cachelin, the possession of the income to go to the parents until the majority of the eldest of their descendants.
"the provisions which follow regulate the share which shall fall to each child, and the share remaining to the parents until their death.
"in the event of my death before my niece has an heir, all my fortune is to remain in the hands of my notary, for the term of three years, for my wish above expressed to be complied with if a child is born during that time.
"but in the case of coralie's not obtaining from heaven a descendant during the three years following my death, my fortune is to be distributed, by the hands of my notary, among the poor and the benevolent institutions contained in the following list."
there followed an interminable series of names of communities, of societies, of orders, and of instructions.
then ma?tre belhomme politely placed the paper in the hands of cachelin, who stood speechless with astonishment.
the notary thought he ought to add something by way of explanation to his visitors.
"mlle cachelin," said he, "when she did me the honour to speak to me for the first time of her project of making her will according to this plan, expressed to me the great desire which she had to see an heir of her race. she replied to all my reasoning by a more and more positive expression of her wishes, which were based, moreover, on a religious sentiment, she holding every sterile union to be the sign of divine malediction. i have not been able to modify her intentions in the least. believe me, i regret this fact exceedingly." then he added, smiling at coralie: "but i do not doubt that the desideratum of the deceased will be quickly realized."
and the three relatives went away, too bewildered to think of anything.
side by side they walked home, without speaking, ashamed and furious, as though they had robbed each other. all of cora's grief, even, had suddenly disappeared, the ingratitude of her aunt driving away all disposition to weep.
at last lesable, whose pale lips were drawn with rage, said to his father-in-law:
"pass me that paper, that i may read it with my own eyes." cachelin handed him the document and the young man began to read. he had stopped on the footpath and, jostled by the passers-by, he stood there scanning the words with his piercing and practical eye. the two others waited a few steps in front, still silent.
then he handed back the paper, saying:
"there is nothing to be done. she has tricked us beautifully."
cachelin, who was irritated by the failure of his hopes, replied:
"it was for you to have a child, damn it! you knew well enough that she wanted it long ago."
lesable shrugged his shoulders without answering.
on entering they found a crowd of people awaiting them, those whose calling brings them where a corpse is. lesable went to his room, not wishing to be bothered, and césar spoke roughly to all of them, crying out to them to leave him in peace, demanding that they get through with it as quickly as possible, thinking that they were very long in relieving him of the dead.
cora, shut up in her room, made no sound, but after an hour cachelin came and rapped on the door of his son-in-law.
"i come, my dear léopold," said he, "to submit some reflections to you, for it is necessary to come to some understanding. my opinion is that we should give her a befitting funeral in order to give no hint at the ministry of what has happened. we will arrange about the expense. besides, nothing is lost. you have not been married very long, and it would be too great a misfortune if you had no children. you must set about it, that's all. and now to business. will you drop in at the ministry after a while? i am going to address the envelopes for the death announcements."
lesable grudgingly agreed that his father-in-law was right, and they sat down face to face, each at an end of a long table, to fill in the black-bordered cards.
then they lunched. cora reappeared, indifferent as though nothing of what had passed concerned her, and she ate a good deal, having fasted the evening before.
as soon as the meal was finished she returned to her room. lesable left to go to the ministry, and cachelin installed himself on the balcony, his chair tilted back, in order to enjoy a pipe.
the broad sun of a summer day fell perpendicularly upon the multitude of roofs, some of which were pierced with windows which blazed as with fire and threw back the dazzling rays which the sight could not sustain.
and cachelin, in his shirt-sleeves, looked, with his eyes blinking under this stream of light, upon the green hillocks far, far away beyond the great city, beyond the dusty suburbs. he thought of how the seine flowed there, broad, calm, and fresh, at the foot of hills which had trees on their slopes, and how much better it would be to be lying on one's stomach in that greenery on the bank of the river, gazing into the water, than to be sitting on the burning lead of his balcony. and an uneasiness oppressed him, the tormenting thought, the grievous sensation of their disaster, of that unfortunate, unexpected thing, so much more bitter and brutal because the hope had been so ardent and so long-lived; and he said aloud, as people do in time of great trouble of mind, in the uprooting of a fixed idea: "damned old witch!"
behind him in the bedroom he heard the movements of those who were busying themselves with the preparations for the funeral, and the continuous noise of the hammer which nailed up the coffin. he had not looked at his sister since his visit to the lawyer.
but little by little the warmth, the gaiety, the clear charm of this beautiful day penetrated to his mind and his soul, and he thought that things were not so desperate. why should his daughter not have a child? she had not been married two years yet! his son-in-law appeared vigorous, well built, and in good health, although small. they would have a child, and then besides, by jupiter, they had to!
lesable furtively entered the ministry and slunk to his room. he found on the table a paper bearing these words: "the chief wants you." he made a gesture of impatience. he felt a revolt against this yoke which had again fallen on his back; then a sudden and violent desire to succeed seized him. he would be chief in his turn, and soon; he would then go higher still. without removing his frock-coat he went at once to m. torchebeuf. he presented himself with one of those solemn faces which one assumes on sad occasions. but there was something more—an expression of sincere and profound sorrow, that involuntary dejection which a deep disappointment leaves upon the features.
the head of the chief was bent over his papers. he raised it suddenly, and said in a sharp tone: "i have needed you all morning. why have you not come?"
lesable replied: "dear master, we have had the misfortune to lose my aunt. mademoiselle cachelin, and i have just come to ask you to attend the funeral, which will take place to-morrow."
the frown on the brow of m. torchebeuf immediately disappeared, and he replied with a touch of consideration: "that alters the case, my dear friend. i thank you and give you the day, for you must have a great deal to attend to."
but lesable, desiring to show his zeal, said:
"thanks, dear master, everything is finished, and i expected to remain here until the regular hour for closing."
and he returned to his desk.
the news soon spread, and his fellows came from all the departments to bring him their congratulation rather than their condolences, and also to see how he bore himself. he endured their speeches and their looks with the resigned appearance of an actor, and also with a tact which astonished them.
"he conducts himself very well," said some.
"well he may," added others; "he ought to be content—lucky dog!"
maze, more audacious than any of them, asked with the careless air of a man of the world: "do you know exactly the amount of the fortune?"
lesable replied in a perfectly disinterested tone: "no, not precisely. the will says about twelve hundred thousand francs. i know that, as the notary was obliged to make us acquainted immediately with certain clauses relative to the funeral."
it was the general opinion that lesable would not remain in the ministry. with an income of sixty thousand francs one does not remain a quill-driver. one is somebody and can be something according to one's inclination.
some thought that he was aiming at the cabinet; others believed that he thought of the chamber of deputies. the chief was expecting to receive his resignation to transmit to the head of the department.
the entire ministry came to the funeral, which was thought to be very meagre. but the word was around: "it is mlle cachelin herself who wished it so. it was in the will."
on the very next day cachelin was at his post, and lesable, after a week of indisposition, also returned, a little pale but assiduous and zealous as formerly. one would have said that nothing unlooked-for had happened to them. it was only remarked that they ostentatiously smoked very large cigars, that they talked of consols, railways, of stocks and shares, like men who have scrip in their pockets, and it became known, in a short time, that they had rented a country-house in the neighbourhood of paris, in which to spend the summer season.
"they are miserly like the old woman," they said. "it runs in the family. birds of a feather flock together. but it doesn't look well to retain a clerkship with such a fortune."
in a short time the matter was forgotten. they were rated and judged.
