the nabob-第72章

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〃Let　us　not　speak　of　that　man；〃　said　Andre；　turning　pale；　〃he　is　a　wretch　to　whom　I　owe　nothingwho　is　nothing　to　me。〃

He　stops；　embarrassed　by　this　explosion　of　anger；　which　he　was　unable　to　restrain　and　cannot　explain；　and　goes　on　more　gently：

〃My　mother；　who　comes　to　see　me　sometimes　in　spite　of　the　prohibition　laid　upon　her；　was　the　first　to　be　told　of　our　plans。　She　already　loves　Mlle。　Elise　as　her　daughter。　You　will　see；　mademoiselle；　how　good　she　is；　and　how　beautiful　and　charming。　What　a　misfortune　that　she　belongs　to　such　a　wicked　man；　who　tyrannizes　over　her；　and　tortures　her　even　to　the　point　of　forbidding　her　to　utter　her　son's　name。〃

Poor　Maranne　heaves　a　sign　that　speaks　volumes　on　the　great　grief　which　he　hides　in　the　depths　of　his　heart。　But　what　sadness　would　not　have　been　vanquished　in　presence　of　that　dear　face　lighted　up　with　its　fair　curls　and　the　radiant　perspective　of　the　future？　These　serious　questions　having　been　settled；　they　are　able　to　open　the　door　and　recall　the　two　exiles。　In　order　to　avoid　filling　their　little　heads　with　thoughts　above　their　age；　it　has　been　agreed　to　say　nothing　about　the　prodigious　event；　to　tell　them　nothing　except　that　they　have　all　to　make　haste　and　dress；　breakfast　still　more　quickly；　so　as　to　be　able　to　spend　the　afternoon　in　the　Bois；　where　Maranne　will　read　his　play　to　them；　before　they　go　on　to　Suresnes　to　have　dinner　at　Kontzen's：　a　whole　programme　of　delights　in　honour　of　the　acceptance　of　/Revolt/；　and　of　another　piece　of　good　news　which　they　will　hear　later。

〃Ah；　reallywhat　is　it；　then？〃　ask　the　two　little　girls；　with　an　innocent　air。

But　if　you　fancy　they　don't　know　what　is　in　the　air；　if　you　think　that　when　Mlle。　Elise　used　to　give　three　raps　on　the　ceiling　they　imagined　that　it　was　for　information　on　business；　you　are　more　ingenuous　even　than　/le　pere/　Joyeuse。

〃That's　all　rightthat's　all　right；　children；　go　and　dress；　in　any　case。〃

Then　there　begins　another　refrain：

〃What　frock　must　I　put　on；　Bonne　Mamanthe　gray？〃

〃Bonne　Maman；　there　is　a　string　off　my　hat。〃

〃Bonne　Maman；　my　child；　have　I　no　more　starched　cravats　left？〃

For　ten　minutes　the　charming　grandmother　is　besieged　with　questions　and　entreaties。　Every　one　needs　her　help　in　some　way；　it　is　she　who　had　the　keys　of　everything；　she　who　gives　out　the　pretty；　white；　fine　goffered　linen；　the　embroidered　handkerchiefs；　the　best　gloves；　all　the　dainty　things　which；　taken　out　from　drawers　and　wardrobes；　spread　over　the　bed；　fill　a　house　with　a　bright　Sunday　gaiety。

The　workers；　the　people　with　tasks　to　fulfil；　alone　know　that　delight　which　returns　each　week　consecrated　by　the　customs　of　a　nation。　For　these　prisoners　of　the　week；　the　almanac　with　its　closed　prison…like　gratings　opens　at　regular　intervals　into　luminous　spaces；　with　breaths　of　refreshing　air。　It　is　Sunday；　the　day　that　seems　so　long　to　fashionable　folk；　to　the　Parisians　of　the　boulevard　whose　habits　it　disturbs；　so　gloomy　to　people　far　from　their　homes　and　relatives；　that　constitutes　for　a　multitude　of　human　beings　the　only　recompense；　the　one　aim　of　the　desperate　efforts　of　six　days　of　toil。　Neither　rain　nor　hail；　nothing　makes　any　difference；　nothing　will　prevent　them　from　going　out；　from　closing　behind　them　the　door　of　the　deserted　workshop；　of　the　stuffy　little　lodging。　But　when　the　springtime　is　come；　when　the　May　sunshine　glitters　on　it　as　this　morning；　and　it　can　deck　itself　out　in　gay　colours；　then　indeed　Sunday　is　the　holiday　of　holidays。

If　one　would　know　it　well；　it　must　be　seen　especially　in　the　working　quarters　of　the　town；　in　those　gloomy　streets　which　it　lights　up　and　enlarges　by　closing　the　shops；　keeping　in　their　sheds　the　heavy　drays　and　trucks；　leaving　the　space　free　for　wandering　bands　of　children　washed　and　in　their　Sunday　clothes；　and　for　games　of　battledore　and　shuttlecock　played　amid　the　great　circlings　of　the　swallows　beneath　some　porch　of　old　Paris。　It　must　be　seen　in　the　densely　populated；　feverishly　toiling　suburbs；　where；　as　soon　as　morning　is　come；　you　may　feel　it　hovering；　resposeful　and　sweet；　in　the　silence　of　the　factories；　passing　with　the　ringing　of　church…bells　and　that　sharp　whistle　of　the　railways；　and　filling　the　horizon；　all　around　the　outskirts　of　the　city；　with　an　immense　song；　as　it　were；　of　departure　and　of　deliverance。　Then　one　understands　it　and　loves　it。

O　Sunday　of　Paris；　Sunday　of　the　toilers　and　the　humble；　often　have　I　cursed　thee　without　reason；　I　have　poured　whole　streams　of　abusive　ink　over　thy　noisy　and　extravagant　joys；　over　the　dust　of　railway　stations　filled　by　thy　uproar　and　the　maddening　omnibuses　that　thou　takest　by　assault；　over　thy　tavern　songs　bawled　everywhere　from　carts　adorned　with　green　and　pink　dresses；　on　thy　barrel…organs　grinding　out　their　tunes　beneath　the　balconies　of　deserted　court…yards；　but　to…day；　abjuring　my　errors；　I　exalt　thee；　and　I　bless　thee　for　all　the　joy　and　relief　thou　givest　to　courageous　and　honest　labour；　for　the　laughter　of　the　children　who　greet　thee　with　acclamation；　the　pride　of　mothers　happy　to　dress　their　little　ones　in　their　best　clothes　in　thy　honour；　for　the　dignity　thou　dost　preserve　in　the　homes　of　the　poorest；　the　glorious　raiment　set　aside　for　thee　at　the　bottom　of　the　old　shaky　chest　of　drawers；　I　bless　thee　especially　by　reason　of　all　the　happiness　thou　hast　brought　that　morning　to　the　great　new　house　in　the　old　faubourg。

Toilettes　having　been　completed；　the　/dejeuner/　finished；　taken　on　the　thumb；　as　they　sayand　you　can　imagine　what　quantity　these　young　ladies'　thumbs　would　carrythey　came　to　put　on　their　hats　before　the　mirror　in　the　drawing…room。　Bonne　Maman　threw　around　her　supervising　glance；　inserted　a　pin　here；　retied　a　ribbon　there；　straightened　her　father's　cravat；　but　while　all　this　little　world　was　stamping　with　impatience；　beckoned　out　of　doors　by　the　beauty　of　the　day；　there　came　a　ring　at　the　bell；　echoing　through　the　apartment　and　disturbing　their　gay　proceedings。

〃Suppose　we　don't　open　the　door？〃　propose　the　children。

And　what　a　relief；　with　a　cry　of　delight；　they　see　their　friend　Paul　come　in！

〃Quick！　quick！　Come　and　let　us　tell　you　the　good　news。〃

He　knew　well；　before　any　of　them；　that　the　play　had　been　accepted。　He　had　had　a　good　deal　of　trouble　to　get　it　read　by　Cardailhac；　who；　the　moment　he　saw　its　〃short　lines；〃　as　he　called　verse；　wished　to　send　the　manuscript　to　the　Levantine　and　her　/masseur/；　as　he　was　wont　to　do　in　the　case　of　all　beginners　in　the　writing　of　drama。　But　Paul　was　careful　not　to　refer　to　his　own　intervention。　As　for　the　other　event；　the　one　of　which　nothing　was　said；　on　account　of　the　children；　he　guessed　it　easily　by　the　trembling　greeting　of　Maranne；　whose　fair　mane　was　standing　straight　up　over　his　forehead　by　reason　of　the　poet's　two　hands　having　been　pushed　through　it　so　many　times；　a　thing　he　always　did　in　his　moments　of　joy；　by　the　slightly　embarrassed　demeanour　of　Elise；　by　the　triumphant　airs　of　M。　Joyeuse；　who　was　standing　very　erect　in　his　new　summer　clothes；　with　all　the　happiness　of　his　children　written　on　his　face。

Bonne　Maman　alone　preserved　her　usual　peaceful　air；　but　one　noticed；　in　the　eager　alacrity　with　which　she　forestalled　her　sister's　wants；　a　certain　attention　still　more　tender　than　before；　an　anxiety　to　make　her　look　pretty。　And　it　was　delicious　to　watch　the　girl　of　twenty　as　she　busied　herself　about　the　adornment　of　others；　without　envy；　without　regret；　with　something　of　the　gentle　renunciation　of　a　mother　welcoming　the　young　love　of　her　daughter　in　memory　of　a　happiness　gone　by。　Paul　saw　this；　he　was　the　only　one　who　did　see　it；　but　while　admiring　Aline；　he　asked　himself　sadly　if　in　that　maternal　heart　there　would　ever　be　place　for　other　affections；　for　preoccupations　outside　the　tranquil　and　bright　circle　wherein　Bonne　Maman　presided　so　prettily　over　the　evening　work。

Love　is；　as　one　knows；　a　poor　blind　creature；　deprived　of　hearing　and　speech；　and　only　led　by　presentiments；　divinations；　the　nervous　faculties　of　a　sick　man。　It　is　pitiable　indeed　to　see　him　wandering；　feeling　his　way；　constantly　making　false　steps；　passing　his　hands　over　the　supports　by　which　he　guides　himself　with　the　distrustful　awkwardness　of　the　infirm。