the nabob-第52章

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a　rabbit；　and；　careless　of　his　protestations　and　his　terrified　stammerings：

〃Yes；　yes；　I　will　give　you　satisfaction；　you　blackguard！　But；　first；　I　intend　to　do　to　you　what　is　done　to　dirty　beasts　to　prevent　them　from　repeating　the　same　offence。〃

And　roughly　he　set　to　work　rubbing　his　nose　and　face　all　over　with　his　newspaper；　which　he　had　rolled　into　a　ball；　stifling　him；　blinding　him　with　it；　and　making　scratches　from　which　the　blood　trickled　over　his　skin。　The　man　was　dragged　from　his　hands；　crimson；　suffocated。　A　little　more　and　he　would　have　killed　him。

The　struggle　over；　pulling　down　his　sleeves；　adjusting　his　crumpled　linen；　picking　up　his　portfolio　out　of　which　the　papers　of　the　Sarigue　election　were　flying　scattered　even　to　the　gutter；　the　Nabob　answered　the　policemen　who　were　asking　him　for　his　name　in　order　to　draw　up　a　summons：

〃Bernard　Jansoulet；　Deputy　for　Corsica。〃

A　public　man！

Only　then　did　he　remember　that　he　was　one。　Who　would　have　suspected　it；　seeing　him　breathless　and　bare…headed；　like　a　porter　after　a　street　fight；　under　the　eager；　coldly　mocking　glances　of　the　crowd？



THE　APPARITION

If　you　want　simple　and　sincere　feeling；　if　you　would　see　overflowing　affection；　tenderness；　laughterthe　laughter　born　of　great　happiness　which；　at　a　tiny　movement　of　the　lips；　is　brought　to　the　verge　of　tearsand　the　beautiful　wild　joy　of　youth　illumined　by　bright　eyes　transparent　to　the　very　depths　of　the　souls　behind　themall　these　things　you　may　find　this　Sunday　morning　in　a　house　that　you　know　of；　a　new　house；　down　yonder；　right　at　the　end　of　the　old　faubourg。　The　glass　door　on　the　ground　floor　shines　more　brightly　than　usual。　More　gaily　than　ever　dance　the　letters　over　the　door；　and　from　the　open　windows　comes　the　sound　of　glad　cries；　flowing　from　a　stream　of　happiness。

〃Accepted！　it　is　accepted！　Oh；　what　good　luck！　Henriette；　Elise；　do　come　here！　M。　Maranne's　play　is　accepted！〃

Andre　heard　the　news　yesterday。　Cardailhac；　the　manager　of　the　/Nouveautes/；　sent　for　him　to　inform　him　that　his　play　was　to　be　produced　immediatelythat　it　would　be　put　on　next　month。　They　passed　the　evening　discussing　scenic　arrangements　and　the　distribution　of　parts；　and；　as　it　was　too　late　to　knock　at　his　neighbour's　door　when　he　got　home　from　the　theatre；　the　happy　author　waited　for　the　morning　in　feverish　impatience；　and　then；　as　soon　as　he　heard　people　stirring　below　and　the　shutters　open　with　a　click　against　the　house…front；　he　made　haste　to　go　down　to　announce　the　good　news　to　his　friends。　Just　now　they　are　all　assembled　together；　the　young　ladies　in　pretty　/deshabille/；　their　hair　hastily　twisted　up；　and　M。　Joyeuse；　whom　the　announcement　had　surprised　in　the　midst　of　shaving；　presenting　under　his　embroidered　night…cap　a　strange　face　divided　into　two　parts；　one　side　shaved；　the　other　not。　But　Andre　Maranne　is　the　most　excited；　for　you　know　what　the　acceptance　of　/Revolt/　means　for　him；　what　was　agreed　between　them　and　Bonne　Maman。　The　poor　fellow　looks　at　her　as　if　to　find　an　encouragement　in　her　eyes；　and　the　rather　mischievous；　kind　eyes　seem　to　say；　〃Make　the　experiment；　in　any　case。　What　is　the　risk？〃　To　give　himself　courage　he　looks　also　at　Mlle。　Elise；　pretty　as　a　flower；　with　her　long　eyelashes　drooped。　At　last；　making　up　his　mind：

〃M。　Joyeuse；〃　said　he　thickly；　〃I　have　a　very　serious　communication　to　make　to　you。〃

M。　Joyeuse　expresses　astonishment。

〃A　communication？　Ah；　/mon　Dieu/；　you　alarm　me！〃

And　lowering　his　voice：

〃Are　the　girls　in　the　way？〃

〃No。　Bonne　Maman　knows　what　I　mean。　Mlle。　Elise　also　must　have　some　suspicion　of　it。　It　is　only　the　children。〃

Mlle。　Henriette　and　her　sister　are　asked　to　retire；　which　they　immediately　do；　the　one　with　a　dignified　and　annoyed　air；　like　a　true　daughter　of　the　Saint…Amands；　the　other；　the　young　Chinese　Yaia；　hardly　hiding　a　wild　desire　to　laugh。

Thereupon　a　great　silence；　after　which；　the　lover　begins　his　little　story。

I　quite　believe　that　Mlle。　Elise　has　some　suspicion　in　her　mind；　for　as　soon　as　their　young　neighbour　spoke　of　a　communication；　she　drew　her　/Ansart　et　Rendu/　from　her　pocket　and　plunged　precipitately　into　the　adventures　of　somebody　surnamed　the　Hutin；　thrilling　reading　which　makes　the　book　tremble　in　her　hands。　There　is　reason　for　trembling；　certainly；　before　the　bewilderment；　the　indignant　stupefaction　into　which　M。　Joyeuse　receives　this　request　for　his　daughter's　hand。

〃Is　it　possible？　How　has　it　happened？　What　an　extraordinary　event！　Who　could　ever　have　suspected　such　a　thing？〃

And　suddenly　the　good　old　man　burst　into　a　great　roar　of　laughter。　Well；　no；　it　is　not　true。　He　had　heard　of　the　affair；　knew　about　it；　a　long　time　ago。

Her　father　knew　all　about　it！　Bonne　Maman　had　betrayed　them　then！　And　before　the　reproachful　glances　cast　in　her　direction；　the　culprit　comes　forward　smiling：

〃Yes；　my　dears；　it　is　I。　The　secret　was　too　much　for　me。　I　found　I　could　not　keep　it　to　myself　alone。　And　then；　father　is　so　kindone　cannot　hide　anything　from　him。〃

As　she　says　this　she　throws　her　arms　round　the　little　man's　neck；　but　there　is　room　enough　for　two；　and　when　Mlle。　Elise　in　her　turn　takes　refuge　there；　there　is　still　an　affectionate；　fatherly　hand　stretched　out　towards　him　whom　M。　Joyeuse　considers　thenceforward　as　his　son。　Silent　embraces；　long　looks　meeting　each　other　full　of　emotion；　blessed　moments　that　one　would　like　to　hold　forever　by　the　fragile　tips　of　their　wings。　There　is　chat；　and　gentle　laughter　when　certain　details　are　recalled。　M。　Joyeuse　tells　how　the　secret　was　revealed　to　him　in　the　first　instance　by　tapping　spirits；　one　day　when　he　was　alone　in　Andre's　apartment。　〃How　is　business　going；　M。　Maranne？〃　the　spirits　had　inquired；　and　he　himself　had　replied　in　Maranne's　absence：　〃Fairly　well；　for　the　season；　Sir　Spirit。〃　The　little　man　repeats；　〃Fairly　well　for　the　season；〃　in　a　mischievous　way；　while　Mlle。　Elise；　quite　confused　at　the　thought　that　it　was　with　her　father　that　she　talked　that　day；　disappears　under　her　fair　curls。

After　the　first　stress　of　emotion　they　talk　more　seriously。　It　is　certain　that　Mme。　Joyeuse；　/nee/　de　Saint…Amand；　would　never　have　consented　to　this　marriage。　Andre　Maranne　is　not　rich；　still　less　noble；　but　the　old　accountant；　luckily；　has　not　the　same　ideas　of　grandeur　that　his　wife　possessed。　They　love　each　other；　they　are　young；　healthy；　and　good…lookingqualities　that　in　themselves　constitute　fine　dowries；　without　involving　any　heavy　registration　fees　at　the　notary's。　The　new　household　will　be　installed　on　the　floor　above。　The　photography　will　be　continued；　unless　/Revolt/　should　produce　enormous　receipts。　（The　Visionary　may　be　trusted　to　see　to　that。）　In　any　case；　the　father　will　still　remain　near　them；　he　has　a　good　place　at　his　stockbroker's　office；　some　expert　business　in　the　courts；　provided　that　the　little　ship　continue　to　sail　in　deep　enough　water；　all　will　go　well；　with　the　aid　of　wave；　wind；　and　star。

Only　one　question　preoccupies　M。　Joyeuse：　〃Will　Andre's　parents　consent　to　this　marriage？　How　will　Dr。　Jenkins；　so　rich；　so　celebrated；　take　it？〃

〃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