The Complete Works: Short Stories, Novels, Plays, Poetry, Memoirs and more. Guy de Maupassant
had been awaiting her, made him sit down close to her, but lower down, so that she might have her hand constantly in his hair; and she talked in a serious strain, like a thoughtful, ardent, and resolute woman, who loves, who has already provided against everything, who instinctively knows what must be done, who has made up her mind for everything.
“Listen, my darling. I am very free at Paris. William never bothers himself about me. His business concerns are enough for him. Therefore, as you are not married, I will go to see you. I will go to see you every day, sometimes in the morning before breakfast, sometimes in the evening, on account of the servants, who might chatter if I went out at the same hour. We can meet as often as here, even more than here, for we shall not have to fear inquisitive persons.”
But he repeated with his head on her knees, and her waist tightly clasped: “Liane, Liane, I am going to lose you!”
She became impatient at this unreasonable grief, at this childish grief in this vigorous frame, while she, so fragile compared with him, was yet so sure of herself, so sure that nothing could part them.
He murmured: “If you wished it, Liane, we might fly off together, we might go far away, into a beautiful country full of flowers where we could love one another. Say, do you wish that we should go off together this evening — are you willing?”
But she shrugged her shoulders, a little nervous, a little dissatisfied, at his not having listened to her, for this was not the time for dreams and soft puerilities. It was necessary now for them to show themselves energetic and prudent, and to find out a way in which they could continue to love one another without rousing suspicion.
She said in reply: “Listen, darling! we must thoroughly understand our position, and commit no mistakes or imprudences. First of all, are you sure about your servants? The thing to be most feared is lest some one should give information or write an anonymous letter to my husband. Of his own accord, he will guess nothing. I know William well.’’ This name, twice repeated, all at once had an irritating effect on Paul’s nerves. He said: “Oh! don’t speak to me about him this evening.”
She was astonished: “Why? It is quite necessary, however. Oh! I assure you that he has scarcely anything to do with me.”
She had divined his thoughts. An obscure jealousy, as yet unconscious, was awakened within him. And suddenly, sinking on his knees and seizing her hands:
“Listen, Liane! What terms are you on with him?”
“Why — why — very good!”
“Yes, I know. But listen — understand me clearly. He is — he is your husband, in fact — and — and — you don’t know how much I have been brooding over this for some time past — how much it torments, tortures me. You know what I mean. Tell me!”
She hesitated a few seconds, then in a flash she realized his entire meaning, and with an outburst of indignant candor:
“Oh! my darling! — can you — can you think such a thing? Oh! I am yours — do you understand? — yours alone — since I love you — oh! Paul!”
He let his head sink on the young woman’s lap, and in a very soft voices, said:
“But! — after all, Liane, you know he is your husband. What will you do? Have you thought of that? Tell me! What will you do this evening or tomorrow? For you cannot — always, always say ‘No’ to him!”
She murmured, speaking also in a very low tone: “I have pretended to be enceinte, and — and that is enough for him. Oh! there is scarcely anything between us — Come! say no more about this, my darling. You don’t know how this” wounds me. Trust me, since I love you!”
He did not move, breathing hard and kissing her dress, while she caressed his face with her amorous, dainty fingers.
But, all of a sudden, she said: “We must go back, for they will notice that we are both absent.” They embraced each other, clinging for a long time to one another in a clasp that might well have crushed their bones.
Then she rushed away so as to be back first and to enter the hotel quickly, while he watched her departing and vanishing from his sight, oppressed with sadness, as if all his happiness and all his hopes had taken flight along with her.
French
IX
THE station of Enval could hardly be recognized on the first of July of the following year. On the summit of the knoll, standing between the two outlets of the valley, rose a building in the Moorish style of architecture, bearing on its front the word “Casino” in letters of gold.
A little wood had been utilized for the purpose of creating a small park on the slope facing the Limagne. Lower down, among the vines, six chalets here and there showed their façades of polished wood.
On the slope facing the south, an immense structure was visible at a distance to travelers, who perceived it on their way from Riom.
This was the Grand Hotel of Mont Oriol. And exactly below it, at the very foot of the hill, a square house, simpler and more spacious, surrounded by a garden, through which ran the rivulet which flowed down from the gorges, offered to invalids the miraculous cure promised by a pamphlet of Doctor Latonne.
On the façade could be read: “Thermal baths of Mont Oriol.” Then, on the right wing, in smaller letters: “ Hydropathy. — Stomach-washing. — Piscina with running water.” And, on the left wing: “Medical institute of automatic gymnastics.”
All this was white, with a fresh whiteness, shining and crude. Workmen were still occupied in completing it — house-painters, plumbers, and laborers employed in digging, although the establishment had already been a month open.
Its success, moreover, had since the start, surpassed the hopes of its founders. Three great physicians, three celebrities, Professor Mas-Roussel, Professor Cloche, and Professor Remusot, had taken the new station under their patronage, and consented to sojourn for sometime in the villas of the Bernese “Chalets Mobiles” Company, placed at their disposal by the Board intrusted with the management of the waters.
Under their influence a crowd of invalids flocked to the place. The Grand Hotel of Mont Oriol was full.
Although the baths had commenced working since the first days of June, the official opening of the station had been postponed till the first of July, in order to attract a great number of people. The fête was to commence at three o’clock with the ceremony of blessing the springs; and in the evening, a magnificent performance, followed by fireworks and a ball, would bring together all the bathers of the place, as well as those of the adjoining stations, and the principal inhabitants of Clermont-Ferrand and Riom.
The Casino on the summit of the hill was hidden from view by the flags. Nothing could be seen any longer but blue, red, white, yellow, a kind of dense and palpitating cloud; while from the tops of the gigantic masts planted along the walks in the park, huge oriflammes curled themselves in the blue sky with serpentine windings.
M. Petrus Martel, who had been appointed conductor of this new Casino, seemed to think that under this cloud of flags he had become the allpowerful captain of some fantastic ship; and he gave orders to the white-aproned waiters with the resounding and terrible voice which admirals need in order to exercise command under fire. His vibrating words, borne on by the wind, were heard even in the village.
Andermatt, out of breath already, appeared on the terrace. Petrus Martel advanced to meet him and bowed to him in a lordly fashion.
“Everything is going on well?” inquired the banker.
“Everything is going on well, my dear President.”
“If anyone wants me, I am to be found in the medical inspector’s