813. Leblanc Maurice
form a covered walk, was a little gate.
The old lady asked Prince Sernine to come in and led the way to a little drawing-room or parlor. Geneviève asked leave to withdraw for a moment, to go and see her pupils, whose supper-time it was. The prince and Mme. Ernemont remained alone.
The old lady had a sad and a pale face, under her white hair, which ended in two long, loose curls. She was too stout, her walk was heavy and, notwithstanding her appearance and her dress, which was that of a lady, she had something a little vulgar about her; but her eyes were immensely kind.
Prince Sernine went up to her, took her head in his two hands and kissed her on both cheeks:
"Well, old one, and how are you?"
She stood dumfounded, wild-eyed, open-mouthed. The prince kissed her again, laughing.
She spluttered:
"You! It's you! O mother of God!.. O mother of God!.. Is it possible!.. O mother of God!."
"My dear old Victoire!"
"Don't call me that," she cried, shuddering. "Victoire is dead.. your old servant no longer exists.3 I belong entirely to Geneviève." And, lowering her voice, "O mother of God!.. I saw your name in the papers: then it's true that you have taken to your wicked life again?"
"As you see."
"And yet you swore to me that it was finished, that you were going away for good, that you wanted to become an honest man."
"I tried. I have been trying for four years… You can't say that I have got myself talked about during those four years!"
"Well?"
"Well, it bores me."
She gave a sigh and asked:
"Always the same… You haven't changed… Oh, it's settled, you never will change… So you are in the Kesselbach case?"
"Why, of course! But for that, would I have taken the trouble to arrange for an attack on Mrs. Kesselbach at six o'clock, so that I might have the opportunity of delivering her from the clutches of my own men at five minutes past? Looking upon me as her rescuer, she is obliged to receive me. I am now in the heart of the citadel and, while protecting the widow, can keep a lookout all round. Ah, you see, the sort of life which I lead does not permit me to lounge about and waste my time on little questions of politeness and such outside matters. I have to go straight to the point, violently, brutally, dramatically.."
She looked at him in dismay and gasped:
"I see.. I see.. it's all lies about the attack… But then.. Geneviève."
"Why, I'm killing two birds with one stone! It was as easy to rescue two as one. Think of the time it would have taken, the efforts – useless efforts, perhaps – to worm myself into that child's friendship! What was I to her? What should I be now? An unknown person.. a stranger. Whereas now I am the rescuer. In an hour I shall be.. the friend."
She began to tremble:
"So.. so you did not rescue Geneviève… So you are going to mix us up in your affairs.." And, suddenly, in a fit of rebellion, seizing him by the shoulders, "No, I won't have it, do you understand? You brought the child to me one day, saying, 'Here, I entrust her to you.. her father and mother are dead.. take her under your protection.' Well, she's under my protection now and I shall know how to defend her against you and all your manœuvers!"
Standing straight upright, in a very determined attitude, Mme. Ernemont seemed ready for all emergencies.
Slowly and deliberately Sernine loosened the two hands, one after the other, that held him, and in his turn, took the old lady by the shoulders, forced her into an arm-chair, stooped over and, in a very calm voice, said:
"Rot!"
She began to cry and, clasping her hands together, implored him:
"I beseech you, leave us in peace. We were so happy! I thought that you had forgotten us and I blessed Heaven every time a day had passed. Why, yes .. I love you just the same. But, Geneviève.. you see, there's nothing that I wouldn't do for that child. She has taken your place in my heart."
"So I perceive," said he, laughing. "You would send me to the devil with pleasure. Come, enough of this nonsense! I have no time to waste. I must talk to Geneviève."
"You're going to talk to her?"
"Well, is that a crime?"
"And what have you to tell her?"
"A secret.. a very grave secret.. and a very touching one.."
The old lady took fright:
"And one that will cause her sorrow, perhaps? Oh, I fear everything, I fear everything, where she's concerned!."
"She is coming," he said.
"No, not yet."
"Yes, yes, I hear her… Wipe your eyes and be sensible."
"Listen," said she, eagerly, "listen. I don't know what you are going to say, what secret you mean to reveal to this child whom you don't know. But I, who do know her, tell you this: Geneviève has a very plucky, very spirited, but very sensitive nature. Be careful how you choose your words… You might wound feelings.. the existence of which you cannot even suspect.."
"Lord bless me! And why not?"
"Because she belongs to another race than you, to a different world… I mean, a different moral world… There are things which you are forbidden to understand nowadays. Between you and her, the obstacle is insurmountable… Geneviève has the most unblemished and upright conscience.. and you."
"And I?"
"And you are not an honest man!"
Geneviève entered, bright and charming:
"All my babies have gone to bed; I have ten minutes to spare… Why, grandmother, what's the matter? You look quite upset… Is it still that business with the."
"No, mademoiselle," said Sernine, "I believe I have had the good fortune to reassure your grandmother. Only, we were talking of you, of your childhood; and that is a subject, it seems, which your grandmother cannot touch upon without emotion."
"Of my childhood?" said Geneviève, reddening. "Oh, grandmother!"
"Don't scold her, mademoiselle. The conversation turned in that direction by accident. It so happens that I have often passed through the little village where you were brought up."
"Aspremont?"
"Yes, Aspremont, near Nice. You used to live in a new house, white all over.."
"Yes," she said, "white all over, with a touch of blue paint round the windows… I was only seven years old when I left Aspremont; but I remember the least things of that period. And I have not forgotten the glare of the sun on the white front of the house, nor the shade of the eucalyptus-tree at the bottom of the garden."
"At the bottom of the garden, mademoiselle, was a field of olive-trees; and under one of those olive-trees stood a table at which your mother used to work on hot days.."
"That's true, that's true," she said, quite excitedly, "I used to play by her side.."
"And it was there," said he, "that I saw your mother several times… I recognized her image the moment I set eyes on you.. but it was a brighter, happier image."
"Yes, my poor mother was not happy. My father died on the very day of my birth, and nothing was ever able to console her. She used to cry a great deal. I still possess a little handkerchief with which I used to dry her tears at that time."
"A little handkerchief with a pink pattern."
"What!" she exclaimed, seized with surprise. "You know."
"I was there one day when you were comforting her… And you comforted her so prettily that the scene remained impressed on my memory."
She gave him a penetrating glance and murmured, almost to herself:
"Yes, yes… I seem to.. The expression of your eyes.. and then the sound of your voice.."
She
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