Jacqueline, vol 3 | Page 9

has never before been absent, since our
marriage. But you see my ambition has become limited; I am satisfied
if he lets me alone." Giselle spoke these words with emphasis, and then
she added: "and lets me bring up his son my own way. That is all I
ask."
Jacqueline thought in her heart that it was wrong to ask so little, that
poor Giselle did not know how to make the best of her husband, and,
curious to find out what line of conduct would serve best to subjugate
M. de Talbrun, she became herself--that is to say, a born coquette--
venturing from one thing to another, like a child playing fearlessly with
a bulldog, who is gentle only with him, or a fly buzzing round a spider's
web, while the spider lies quietly within.
She would tease him, contradict him, and make him listen to long

pieces of scientific music as she played them on the piano, when she
knew he always said that music to him was nothing but a disagreeable
noise; she would laugh at his thanks when a final chord, struck with her
utmost force, roused him from a brief slumber; in short, it amused her
to prove that this coarse, rough man was to her alone no object of fear.
She would have done better had she been afraid.
Thus it came to pass that, as they rode together through some of the
prettiest roads in the most beautiful part of Normandy, M. de Talbrun
began to talk, with an ever-increasing vivacity, of the days when they
first met, at Treport, relating a thousand little incidents which
Jacqueline had forgotten, and from which it was easy to see that he had
watched her narrowly, though he was on the eve of his own marriage.
With unnecessary persistence, and stammering as he was apt to do
when moved by any emotion, he repeated over and over again, that
from the first moment he had seen her he had been struck by
her--devilishly struck by her-- he had been, indeed! And one day when
she answered, in order not to appear to attach any importance to this
declaration, that she was very glad of it, he took an opportunity, as their
horses stopped side by side before a beautiful sunset, to put his arm
suddenly round her waist, and give her a kiss, so abrupt, so violent, so
outrageous, that she screamed aloud. He did not remove his arm from
her, his coarse, red face drew near her own again with an expression
that filled her with horror. She struggled to free herself, her horse began
to rear, she screamed for help with all her might, but nothing answered
her save an echo. The situation seemed critical for Jacqueline. As to M.
de Talbrun, he was quite at his ease, as if he were accustomed to make
love like a centaur; while the girl felt herself in peril of being thrown at
any moment, and trampled under his horse's feet. At last she succeeded
in striking her aggressor a sharp blow across the face with her
riding-whip. Blinded for a moment, he let her go, and she took
advantage of her release to put her horse to its full speed. He galloped
after her, beside himself with wrath and agitation; it was a mad but
silent race, until they reached the gate of the Chateau de Fresne, which
they entered at the same moment, their horses covered with foam.
"How foolish!" cried Giselle, coming to meet them. "Just see in what a

state you have brought home your poor horses."
Jacqueline, pale and trembling, made no answer. M. de Talbrun, as he
helped her to dismount, whispered, savagely: "Not a word of this!"
At dinner, his wife remarked that some branch must have struck him on
the cheek, there was a red mark right across his face like a blow.
"We were riding through the woods," he answered, shortly.
Then Giselle began to suspect something, and remarked that nobody
was talking that evening, asking, with a half-smile, whether they had
been quarrelling.
"We did have a little difference," Oscar replied, quietly.
"Oh, it did not amount to anything," he said, lighting his cigar; "let us
make friends again, won't you?" he added, holding out his hand to
Jacqueline. She was obliged to give him the tips of her fingers, as she
said in her turn, with audacity equal to his own:
"Oh, it was less than nothing. Only, Giselle, I told your husband that I
had had some bad news, and shall have to go back to Paris, and he tried
to persuade me not to go."
"I beg you not to go," said Oscar, vehemently.
"Bad news?" repeated Giselle, "you did not say a word to me