A Life (22 page)

Then, for his adornment, she insisted on personally embroidering the finest linen with intricately elegant patterns. He  was swathed in clouds of lace, and magnificent bonnets were set upon his head. It was all she talked about, interrupting conversations to show off a napkin or a bib or the especially fine work on some ribbon; and, quite oblivious to anything anyone else might be saying, she would go into ecstasies as she endlessly fingered pieces of cloth and held them aloft to see them better. Whereupon she would suddenly enquire:

'Do you think this will suit him?'

The Baron and Mama smiled at this frenzy of maternal affection; but Julien, aware of his routine being disrupted and his own overriding importance being diminished by the advent of this wailing and omnipotent tyrant, and also unconsciously jealous of the little male specimen that was usurping his position in the household, kept remarking in angry frustration:

'She's such a bore, it's always her and her little baby.'

Soon she was so obsessed by her devotion that she spent entire nights sitting next to the cradle watching the child sleep. Since she was wearing herself out with these avid and unnatural vigils, no longer taking any rest herself and growing gradually weaker and thinner and beginning to cough, the doctor gave orders that she should be separated from her son.

She became angry, and wept, and pleaded; but her entreaties fell on deaf ears. Each evening he was placed in the care of his nurse; and each night his mother would get up and go in her bare feet to press her ear to the keyhole to make sure that he was sleeping peacefully, that he had not woken up, that there was nothing he needed.

On one occasion Julien caught her doing this, having come home late after dining at the Fourvilles'; and thenceforward she was locked in her bedroom to oblige her to go to bed.

The christening took place towards the end of August. The Baron was godfather, and Aunt Lison godmother. The child was given the names Pierre-Simon-Paul, but Paul for short.

Early in September Aunt Lison quietly took her leave; and her absence went as unnoticed as formerly her presence had been.

One evening after dinner, the priest appeared. He looked awkward, as though he were the bearer of mysterious, tidings, and  after a series of inconsequential remarks he requested the Baroness and her husband to grant him a few moments in private.

The three of them departed and slowly made their way down to the far end of the main avenue, deep in animated conversation, while Julien, left alone with Jeanne, felt at once surprised, disconcerted, and irritated by this secrecy.

He insisted on accompanying the priest when the latter took his leave, and they disappeared together in the direction of the church, where the angelus was being rung.

The air was cool, almost chilly, and the others soon returned indoors to the drawing-room. They were beginning to doze off when suddenly Julien returned, red in the face and looking furious.

Standing in the doorway, and not caring that Jeanne was present, he screamed at his parents-in-law:

'Have you gone mad, for God's sake, throwing away twenty thousand francs on that girl!'

Everyone was so surprised that nobody said anything. He continued, bellowing with rage:

'How can anyone be so stupid? Do you want to leave us without a penny to our name?'

Then the Baron recovered himself and tried to interrupt:

'Be silent! Remember that your wife is present.'

But Julien was beside himself with anger and frustration:

'I'm damned if I care. Anyway, she can see perfectly well what's going on. This is money stolen from her.'

Shocked, Jeanne looked at him blankly and mumbled:

'What is this all about?'

Then Julien turned to her, calling her to witness as though she were some business partner being similarly denied some anticipated profit. He quickly told her about the plan to marry Rosalie, and about the gift of the land at Barville, which was worth at least twenty thousand francs.

'But your parents are mad, my dear,' he repeated, 'stark, raving mad! Twenty thousand francs! They're quite simply off their heads! Twenty thousand francs on a bastard?

Jeanne listened, unmoved, without anger, astonished at her  own calm, and now indifferent to anything that did not concern her own child.

The Baron was choking with rage, and could think of no reply. Eventually he let fly, stamping his foot and shouting:

'You mind your tongue! Really, this is quite outrageous. Whose fault is it that we've had to provide a dowry for the maid now that she's a mother? And whose child is it? Yet now you say you'd rather have abandoned it.'

Astonished by the violence of the Baron's reaction, Julien stared at him. Then he resumed in a more measured tone:

''But fifteen hundred francs would have been quite enough. These girls all have children before they get married. And whose child it is doesn't really matter one way or the other. Whereas by giving away one of your farms worth twenty thousand francs, not only are you acting against our financial interests, you're also telling the whole, world what happened. You might at least have spared a thought for
our
name, for
our
position.'

And he spoke sternly, as a man who knows the law and is confident of the strength of his own case. Confounded by this unexpected argument, the Baron stood there gaping. So Julien, sensing his advantage, proceeded to his summing-up:

'Fortunately nothing has been settled yet. I know the lad who's to marry her. He's a decent fellow, he'll not cause any trouble over this. I'll see to matters.'

And with that he left the room, no doubt afraid of prolonging the discussion and glad that everyone had remained silent, which he took to be a sign of their consent.

As soon as he had gone, the Baron, thoroughly nonplussed and shaking all over, exclaimed:

'Really, this is too much, too much.'

But as Jeanne looked up at her father's flustered expression, she suddenly burst out laughing, with that bright, cheerful laugh she used to have whenever she noticed something amusing.

'But Papa, Papa,' she said, 'did you hear how he said it: "twenty thousand francs!"?'

And Mama, as much given to mirth as she was to weeping, now remembered the furious expression on her son-in-law's face, his  indignant outbursts, and his vehement refusal to allow a girl he had seduced to be offered money that was not even his; and, in her happiness also at finding Jeanne in such good humour, she began to shake with that wheezy laugh of hers, which brought tears to her eyes. The mirth proved infectious and set the Baron off in his turn; with the result that, as in happier days, they all three laughed and laughed until they hurt.

When they had recovered themselves a little, Jeanne said with surprise:

'It's odd, it doesn't affect me any more. He seems just like a stranger to me now. I cannot believe I am actually his wife. As you see, I can laugh at his . . . at his . . . want of delicacy.'

And without knowing quite why, they all kissed each other, still smiling fondly.

But two days later, after lunch, when Julien had just gone out riding, a tall lad somewhere between twenty-two and twenty-five and wearing a brand-new blue smock, with sharp creases and puffed sleeves buttoned at the wrist, sneaked in through the front gate, as if he had been lying in wait there since morning; he stole along the edge of the ditch next to the Couillards' farm, came round the corner of the house, and warily approached the Baron and the two women, who were still sitting under the plane-tree.

He had removed his cap on seeing them, and he now came forward, bowing and looking rather embarrassed.

As soon as he was close enough to be heard, he mumbled:

'Your 'umble servant, milord, ma'am, and company.'

Then, as no one spoke, he announced:

'Me name's Désiré Lecoq.'

Since this name meant nothing, the Baron asked him:

'What do you want?'

Whereupon the lad became completely unnerved at the prospect of having to explain himself. Continually looking down and up again, from the cap in his hands to the top of the chateau roof, he stammered:

'It's Father, like. 'e 'ad a word wi' me, 'e did, about this 'ere business . . .', and then he paused for fear of giving too much away and compromising his interests.

The Baron, at a loss, replied:

'What business? I've no idea what you're talking about.'

Making up his mind, the fellow then lowered his voice and said:

'This 'ere business wi' your maid, Rosalie.'

Having realized what he meant, Jeanne stood up and left, carrying her baby in her arms.

'Come and sit down,' said the Baron, indicating the chair which his daughter had just vacated.

The peasant sat down at once, muttering:

'Much obliged.'

Then he waited as though he had nothing more to say. Finally, after a rather long silence, he steeled himself, looked up at the blue sky, and said:

'Very fine weather, eh, for the time of year. Good for the land, like, for the seeds, as 'ave already been planted.'

And he fell silent again.

The Baron was growing impatient. He broached the matter abruptly, in a curt tone:

'So you're the, one who's going to marry Rosalie?'

The fellow became nervous at once, as this went against the grain of his usual Norman caution. Having been put on his guard, he replied with more spirit:

'It all depends. Mebbe yes, mebbe no. It all depends.'

But the Baron was becoming irritated by these evasions:

'For God's sake, answer me straight. Is that why you've come or isn't it? Will you have her or won't you?'

Bewildered, the young lad now kept his eyes firmly on his feet:

'If it's as Father says, I'll 'ave 'er, but if it's as Monsieur Julien says, I won't.'

'And what did Monsieur Julien say?'

'Monsieur Julien says as how I'd get fifteen 'undred francs; Father says as how I'd get twenty thousand. I'll 'ave her for twenty thousand, but not for fifteen 'undred, I won't.'

At this the Baroness, ensconced in her chair and observing the worried expression on the face of this yokel, began to laugh in little short bursts. The peasant watched her out of the corner of  his eye, not at all pleased and wondering what was so funny. He waited.

The Baron, embarrassed by this haggling, cut it short:

'I told the priest that you would have the farm at Barville, during your lifetime, after which it would pass to the child. It's worth twenty thousand francs. I am a man of my word. Is it a deal, yes or no?'

The young fellow smiled with an air of humble satisfaction, and his tongue was suddenly loosened:

'Oh, well, if that's 'ow it lies, I won't say no! That's all as was 'olding me back. When Father talked to me, I wanted to say yes straightaway like, honest I did, and then I thought, well, I'd be glad to 'elp his lordship out coz 'e'll see me right for it. It's true, ain't it? When people 'elp each other out, there always come a time, later on, when they see each other right. But Mister Julien, 'e came to see me, and then it were only fifteen 'undred. I said to myself: "Better find out, I 'ad," and 'ere I am. Not as I 'ad any doubt, mind, but I thought I'd better find out. 'onest dealings makes 'onest friends. Ain't that so, y'r lordship?'

This could not go on.

'When do you wish the marriage to take place?' the Baron enquired.

Then the lad at once became his timid self again, thoroughly ill at ease. At length he said hesitantly:

'But, well, shouldn't we like sign a bit o' paper or som'ing first?'

This time the Baron lost his temper:

'But damn it, you'll have the marriage contract. That's the best bit of paper you could possibly sign.'

The farmhand insisted:

'But till then, like, couldn't we just sign a bit o' paper? Never did anyone any 'arm, you know.'

The Baron stood up to bring matters to a close.

'Answer me yes or no. Now, this minute. If you've changed your mind, say so. I have someone else who's interested.'

Whereupon the fear of a rival panicked the wily Norman. He made up his mind and held out his hand as though he had just bought a cow:

'Shake on it, your lordship, it's a deal. And 'e be the bugger that breaks it.'

The Baron shook on it, and then shouted:

'Ludivine!'

The cook's head appeared at the window.

'Bring us a bottle of wine!'

They drank to the conclusion of the deal. And the lad departed with a lighter step.

Julien was told nothing of this visit. The contract was drawn up in great secrecy, and then, after the banns had been published, the wedding took place one Monday morning.

A neighbour's wife carried the baby to church, behind the bridal couple, like an earnest of future good fortune. And nobody in the district thought anything of it; they simply envied Désiré Lecoq. He'd been born under a lucky star, they would say as they smiled knowingly but without the slightest trace of disapproval.

Julien made a terrible scene, which caused his parents-in-law to cut short their stay at Les Peuples. Jeanne watched them leave without undue sadness, for Paul had now become an inexhaustible source of happiness to her.

IX

Now that Jeanne was fully recovered after her confinement, it was decided to return the Fourvilles' visit and to call also on the Marquis de Coutelier.

Julien had recently bought a new carriage at auction, a phaeton requiring only one horse,
*
so that they could go out twice a month.

One clear December day it was harnessed, and after a two-hour journey across the Norman plains they began to descend between the wooded slopes of a small valley, at the bottom of which lay fields ploughed and sown for crops.

This cultivated land was soon replaced by meadows, and the meadows in turn gave way to a marsh full of tall reeds, now dry at this season, whose long leaves looked like yellow ribbons and rustled in the breeze.

All at once, after a sudden bend in the valley, the chateau of La Vrillette came into view. It had been built against the tree-covered slope on one side, while on the other the whole length of its wall rose from a large lake, which extended across to a wood of tall firs that stretched up the opposite side of the valley.