she was not quite in love with him, but she wished him to be in love with her. she was, moreover, very reserved with him, and that not solely from any want of inclination to be otherwise, since in affairs of love some things are due to indifference, to inattention, to a woman’s instinct, to traditional custom and feeling, to a desire to try one’s power, and to satisfaction at seeing its results. the reason of her prudence was that she knew him to be very much infatuated and capable of taking advantage of any familiarities she allowed as well as of reproaching her coarsely afterwards if she discontinued them.
as he was a professed anti-clerical and free-thinker, she thought it a good plan to affect an appearance of piety in his presence and to be seen with huge prayer-books bound in red morocco, such as queen marie leczinska’s or the dauphiness marie josephine’s “the last two weeks of lent.” she lost no opportunity either, of showing him the subscriptions that she collected for the endowment of the national cult of st. orberosia. eveline did not act in this way because she wished to tease him. nor did it spring from a young girl’s archness, or a spirit of constraint, or even from snobbishness, though there was more than a suspicion of this latter in her behaviour. it was but her way of asserting herself, of stamping herself with a definite character, of increasing her value. to rouse the deputy’s courage she wrapped herself up in religion, just as brunhild surrounded herself with flames so as to attract sigard. her audacity was successful. he thought her still more beautiful thus. clericalism was in his eyes a sign of good form.
ceres was re-elected by an enormous majority and returned to a house which showed itself more inclined to the left, more advanced, and, as it seemed, more eager for reform than its predecessor. perceiving at once that so much zeal was but intended to hide a fear of change, and a sincere desire to do nothing, he determined to adopt a policy that would satisfy these aspirations. at the beginning of the session he made a great speech, cleverly thought out and well arranged, dealing with the idea that all reform ought to be put off for a long time. he showed himself heated, even fervid; holding the principle that an orator should recommend moderation with extreme vehemence. he was applauded by the entire assembly. the clarences listened to him from the president’s box and eveline trembled in spite of herself at the solemn sound of the applause. on the same bench the fair madame pensee shivered at the intonations of his virile voice.
as soon as he descended from the tribune, ceres, even while the audience were still clapping, went without a moment’s delay to salute the clarences in their box. eveline saw in him the beauty of success, and as he leaned towards the ladies, wiping his neck with his handkerchief and receiving their congratulations with an air of modesty though not without a tinge of self-conceit, the young girl glanced towards madame pensee and saw her, palpitating and breathless, drinking in the hero’s applause with her head thrown backwards. it seemed as if she were on the point of fainting. eveline immediately smiled tenderly on m. ceres.
the alcan deputy’s speech had a great vogue. in political “spheres” it was regarded as extremely able. “we have at last heard an honest pronouncement,” said the chief moderate journal. “it is a regular programme!” they said in the house. it was agreed that he was a man of immense talent.
hippolyte ceres had now established himself as leader of the radicals, socialists, and anti-clericals, and they appointed him president of their group, which was then the most considerable in the house. he thus found himself marked out for office in the next ministerial combination.
after a long hesitation eveline clarence accepted the idea of marrying m. hippolyte ceres. the great man was a little common for her taste. nothing had yet proved that he would one day reach the point where politics bring in large sums of money. but she was entering her twenty-seventh year and knew enough of life to see that she must not be too fastidious or show herself too difficult to please.
hippolyte ceres was celebrated; hippolyte ceres was happy. he was no longer recognisable; the elegance of his clothes and deportment had increased tremendously. he wore an undue number of white gloves. now that he was too much of a society man, eveline began to doubt if it was not worse than being too little of one. madame clarence regarded the engagement with favour. she was reassured concerning her daughter’s future and pleased to have flowers given her every thursday for her drawing-room.
the celebration of the marriage raised some difficulties. eveline was pious and wished to receive the benediction of the church. hippolyte ceres, tolerant but a free-thinker, wanted only a civil marriage. there were many discussions and even some violent scenes upon the subject. the last took place in the young girl’s room at the moment when the invitations were being written. eveline declared that if she did not go to church she would not believe herself married. she spoke of breaking off the engagement, and of going abroad with her mother, or of retiring into a convent. then she became tender, weak, suppliant. she sighed, and everything in her virginal chamber sighed in chorus, the holy-water font, the palm-branch above her white bed, the books of devotion on their little shelves, and the blue and white statuette of st. orberosia chaining the dragon of cappadocia, that stood upon the marble mantelpiece. hippolyte ceres was moved, softened, melted.
beautiful in her grief, her eyes shining with tears, her wrists girt by a rosary of lapis lazuli and, so to speak, chained by her faith, she suddenly flung herself at hippolyte’s feet, and dishevelled, almost dying, she embraced his knees.
he nearly yielded.
“a religious marriage,” he muttered, “a marriage in church, i could make my constituents stand that, but my committee would not swallow the matter so easily. . . . still i’ll explain it to them . . . toleration, social necessities. . . . they all send their daughters to sunday school. . . . but as for office, my dear i am afraid we are going to drown all hope of that in your holy water.”
at these words she stood up grave, generous, resigned, conquered also in her turn.
“my dear, i insist no longer.”
“then we won’t have a religious marriage. it will be better, much better not.”
“very well, but be guided by me. i am going to try and arrange everything both to your satisfaction and mine.”
she sought the reverend father douillard and explained the situation. he showed himself even more accommodating and yielding than she had hoped.
“your husband is an intelligent man, a man of order and reason; he will come over to us. you will sanctify him. it is not in vain that god has granted him the blessing of a christian wife. the church needs no pomp and ceremonial display for her benedictions. now that she is persecuted, the shadow of the crypts and the recesses of the catacombs are in better accord with her festivals. mademoiselle, when you have performed the civil formalities come here to my private chapel in walking costume with m. ceres. i will marry you, and i will observe the most absolute discretion. i will obtain the necessary dispensations from the archbishop as well as all facilities regarding the banns, confession-tickets, etc.”
hippolyte, although he thought the combination a little dangerous, agreed to it, a good deal flattered at bottom.
“i will go in a short coat,” he said.
he went in a frock coat with white gloves and varnished shoes, and he genuflected.
“politeness demands . . . ”
