A Mummers Tale | Page 8

broken with him.
Of course he would never have allowed himself to question a mother as to her daughter's lovers. But it was permissible to speak of Girmandel to Madame Nanteuil, who saw nothing that was other than respectable in the relations of her household with the Government official, who was well-to-do, married, and the father of two charming daughters. To bring Girmandel's name into the conversation he had only to resort to a stratagem. Chevalier hit upon one which he thought was ingenious.
"By the way," he remarked, "I saw Girmandel just now in a carriage."
Madame Nanteuil made no comment.
"He was driving down the Boulevard Saint-Michel in a cab. I certainly thought I recognized him. I should be greatly surprised if it wasn't he."
Madame Nanteuil made no comment.
"His fair beard, his high colour--he's an easy man to recognize, Girmandel."
Madame Nanteuil made no comment.
"You were very friendly with him at one time, you and Félicie. Do you still see him?"
"Monsieur Girmandel? Oh yes, we still see him," replied Madame Nanteuil softly.
These words made Chevalier feel almost happy. But she had deceived him; she had not spoken the truth. She had lied out of self-respect, and in order not to reveal a domestic secret which she regarded as derogatory to the honour of her family. The truth was that, being carried away by her passion for Ligny, Félicie had given Girmandel the go-by, and he, being a man of the world, had promptly cut off supplies. Madame Nanteuil, despite her years, had resumed an old lover, out of her love for her child, that she might not want for anything. She had renewed her former liaison with Tony Meyer, the picture-dealer in the Rue de Clichy. Tony Meyer was a poor substitute for Girmandel; he was none too free with his money. Madame Nanteuil, who was wise and knew the value of things, did not complain on that account, and she was rewarded for her devotion, for, in the six weeks during which she had been loved anew, she had grown young again.
Chevalier, following up his idea, inquired:
"You would hardly say that Girmandel was still a young man, would you?"
"He is not old," said Madame Nanteuil. "A man is not old at forty."
"A bit used up, isn't he?"
"Oh, dear no," replied Madame Nanteuil, quite calmly.
Chevalier became thoughtful and was silent. Madame Nanteuil began to nod. Then, being aroused from her somnolence by the servant, who brought in the salt-cellar and the water-bottle, she inquired:
"And you, Monsieur Chevalier, is all well with you?"
No, all was not well with him. The critics were out to "down" him. And the proof that they had combined against him was that they all said the same thing; they said his face lacked expression.
"My face lacking in expression!" he cried indignantly. "They should have called it a predestined face. Madame Nanteuil, I aim high, and it is that which does me harm. For example, in La Nuit du 23 octobre, which is being rehearsed now, I am Florentin: I have only six lines; it's a washout. But I have increased the importance of the character enormously. Durville is furious. He deliberately crabs all my effects."
Madame Nanteuil, placid and kindly, found words to comfort him. Obstacles there were, no doubt, but in the end one overcame them. Her own daughter had fallen foul of the ill-will of certain critics.
"Half-past twelve!" said Chevalier gloomily. "Félicie is late."
Madame Nanteuil supposed that she had been detained by Madame Doulce.
"Madame Doulce as a rule undertakes to see her home, and you know she never hurries herself."
Chevalier rose, as if to take his leave, to show that he remembered his manners. Madame Nanteuil begged him to stay.
"Don't go; Félicie won't be long now. She will be pleased to find you here. You will have supper with her."
Madame Nanteuil dozed off again in her chair. Chevalier sat gazing in silence at the clock hanging on the wall, and as the hand travelled across the dial he felt a burning wound in his heart, which grew bigger and bigger, and each little stroke of the pendulum touched him to the quick, lending a keener eye to his jealousy, by recording the moments which Félicie was passing with Ligny. For he was now convinced that they were together. The stillness of the night, interrupted only by the muffled sound of the cabs bowling along the boulevard, gave reality to the thoughts and images which tortured him. He could see them.
Awakened with a start by the sound of singing on the pavement below, Madame Nanteuil returned to the thought with which she had fallen asleep.
"That's what I am always telling Félicie; one mustn't be discouraged. One should not lose heart. We all have our ups and downs in life."
Chevalier nodded acquiescence.
"But those who suffer," he said, "only get what