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He made no reply; his own thought coming from the lips of another irritated him. He took Clotilde to see the painting. As they crossed the conservatory he saw his wife seated near Laroche-Mathieu, both of them almost hidden behind a group of plants. They seemed to say: "We are having a meeting in public, for we do not care for the world's opinion."
Mme. de Marelle admired Karl Marcovitch's painting, and they turned to repair to the other rooms. They were separated from M. de Marelle. He asked: "Is Laurine still vexed with me?"
"Yes. She refuses to see you and goes away when you are mentioned."
He did not reply. The child's sudden enmity grieved and annoyed him.
Suzanne met them at a door and cried: "Oh, here you are! Now, Bel- Ami, you are going to be left alone, for I shall take Clotilde to see my room." And the two women glided through the throng. At that moment a voice at his side murmured: "Georges!"
It was Mme. Walter. She continued in a low voice: "How cruel you are! How needlessly you inflict suffering upon me. I bade Suzanne take that woman away that I might have a word with you. Listen: I must speak to you this evening--or--or--you do not know what I shall do. Go into the conservatory. You will find a door to the left through which you can reach the garden. Follow the walk directly in front of you. At the end of it you will see an arbor. Expect me in ten minutes. If you do not meet me, I swear I will cause a scandal here at once!"
He replied haughtily: "Very well, I shall be at the place you named in ten minutes."
But Jacques Rival detained him. When he reached the alley, he saw Mme. Walter in front of him; she cried: "Ah, here you are! Do you wish to kill me?"
He replied calmly: "I beseech you, none of that, or I shall leave you at once."
Throwing her arms around his neck, she exclaimed: "What have I done to you that you should treat me so?"
He tried to push her away: "You twisted your hair around my coat buttons the last time we met, and it caused trouble between my wife and myself."
She shook her head: "Ah, your wife would not care. It was one of your mistresses who made a scene."
"I have none."
"Indeed! Why do you never come to see me? Why do you refuse to dine with me even once a week? I have no other thoughts than of you. I suffer terribly. You cannot understand that your image, always present, closes my throat, stifles me, and leaves me scarcely strength enough to move my limbs in order to walk. So I remain all day in my chair thinking of you."
He looked at her in astonishment. These were the words of a desperate woman, capable of anything. He, however, cherished a vague project and replied: "My dear, love is not eternal. One loves and one ceases to love. When it lasts it becomes a drawback. I want none of it! However, if you will be reasonable, and will receive and treat me as a friend, I will come to see you as formerly. Can you do that?"
She murmured: "I can do anything in order to see you."
"Then it is agreed that we are to be friends, nothing more."
She gasped: "It is agreed"; offering him her lips she cried in her despair: "One more kiss--one last kiss!"
He gently drew back. "No, we must adhere to our rules."
She turned her head and wiped away two tears, then drawing from her bosom a package of notes tied with pink ribbon, she held it toward Du Roy: "Here is your share of the profits in that Moroccan affair. I was so glad to make it for you. Here, take it."
He refused: "No, I cannot accept that money."
She became excited: "Oh, you will not refuse it now! It is yours, yours alone. If you do not take it, I will throw it in the sewer. You will not refuse it, Georges!"
He took the package and slipped it into his pocket "We must return to the house; you will take cold."
"So much the better; if I could but die!"
She seized his hand, kissed it passionately, and fled toward the house. He returned more leisurely, and entered the conservatory with head erect and smiling lips. His wife and Laroche were no longer there. The crowd had grown thinner. Suzanne, leaning on her sister's arm, advanced toward him. In a few moments, Rose, whom they teased about a certain Count, turned upon her heel and left them.
Du Roy, finding himself alone with Suzanne, said in a caressing voice: "Listen, my dear little one; do you really consider me a friend?"
"Why, yes, Bel-Ami."
"You have faith in me?"
"Perfect faith."
"Do you remember what I said to you a while since?"
"About what?"
"About your, marriage, or rather the man you would marry."
"Yes."
"Well, will you promise me one thing?"
"Yes; what is it?"
"To consult me when you receive a proposal and to accept no one without asking my advice."
"Yes, I will gladly."
"And it is to be a secret between us--not a word to your father or mother."
"Not a word."
Rival approached them saying: "Mademoiselle, your father wants you in the ballroom."
She said: "Come, Bel-Ami," but he refused, for he had decided to leave at once, wishing to be alone with his thoughts. He went in search of his wife, and found her drinking chocolate at the buffet with two strange men. She introduced her husband without naming them.
In a short while, he asked: "Shall we go?"
"Whenever you like."
She took his arm and they passed through the almost deserted rooms.
Madeleine asked: "Where is Mme. Walter; I should like to bid her good-bye."
"It is unnecessary. She would try to keep us in the ballroom, and I have had enough."
"You are right."
On the way home they did not speak. But when they had entered their room, Madeleine, without even taking off her veil, said to him with a smile: "I have a surprise for you."
He growled ill-naturedly: "What is it?"
"Guess."
"I cannot make the effort."
"The day after to-morrow is the first of January."
"Yes."
"It is the season for New Year's gifts."
"Yes."
"Here is yours, which Laroche handed me just now." She gave him a small black box which resembled a jewel-casket.
He opened it indifferently and saw the cross of the Legion of Honor. He turned a trifle pale, then smiled, and said: "I should have preferred ten millions. That did not cost him much."
She had expected a transport of delight and was irritated by his indifference.
"You are incomprehensible. Nothing seems to satisfy you."
He replied calmly: "That man is only paying his debts; he owes me a great deal more."
She was astonished at his tone, and said: "It is very nice, however, at your age."
He replied: "I should have much more."
He took the casket, placed it on the mantelpiece, and looked for some minutes at the brilliant star within it, then he closed it with a shrug of his shoulders and began to prepare to retire.
"L'Officiel" of January 1