CHAPTER XI

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      LORIN had been anxiously meditating during the past ten months whether he ought to marry Jeanne or not. It was in this way that this clever man committed his gross follies.

      He was not precisely in love, but the young girl had captivated him, and turned his head by her proud grace and amusing raillery. He believed that such a wife would do him honour, setting aside the fact that she would open wide the doors of good society to him. He pictured her on his arm, and his vanity was most deliciously tickled. Then, without his heart having any part in the matter, he began to have a selfish longing for her.

      However, he felt he would have to pay a high price to gratify that longing, and he had fought against it for some time. Little by little he came to calculating what expense he should be put to — how much he could get in return for such a purchase. He put down every detail in figures, he covered a whole sheet of paper with additions and multiplications, and the total horrified him.

      After that he pondered a little. He cut down the figures, and ended by convincing himself that Jeanne, dear as she must cost him, was yet within reach of his purse. He waited another full month, hesitating, and pondering as to whether he would not do better in seeking a wife who would enrich instead of impoverish, may be, his exchequer. Love born of vanity only is just as tenacious as that springing from the heart. Lorin, feeling that he was growing weaker in his resistance, made excuses on the ground that, after all, he had a sufficient fortune, and that he could very well afford to please his fancy. He argued with himself that he must be mad, yet all the time he was railing at himself he went off to find Monsieur de Rionne. He well knew that that gentleman was ruined, but the die was cast.

      “Monsieur,” he explained on arrival, “I am come to see you about an important matter. I trust you will be pleased to accede to my request.”

      Monsieur de Rionne thought he smelt a creditor. He brought forward an armchair, with a look of enquiry on his face.

      “This is the whole business,” said Lorin; “Madame Tellier is kind enough to receive me as a friend at her house, and I have had the opportunity of meeting Mademoiselle Jeanne de Rionne there. I have the honour of asking you for her hand in marriage.”

      The father, surprised that he had a daughter to give in marriage, could not find an answer ready at the moment, and Lorin took advantage of his silence to tell him who he was, and inform him of the amount of his fortune. While he was speaking Monsieur de Rionne’s face brightened and his manner became one of extreme politeness. It was not a question of being asked for money; very likely it was one of receiving some.

      They had a quiet talk.

      Monsieur de Rionne was on the verge of poverty. Julia had eaten up what play had spared him. His debts were becoming pressing, he could no longer get credit, and, age creeping on, he strove from shame to stop himself going further down the hill he was rolling. He was distracted with a hundred thoughts as to what would become of him and where he should go and lodge when obliged to leave his apartments. He did not dare to think of his sister, for he knew she would crush him under all her contempt as a practical woman of the world.

      He had still a little pride, however, left in him, when a fresh desertion took away the last vestige of it. Louis, his valet, always imperturbable, had remained faithful to him so long as he could rob him at his ease; but when he found there was nothing more left for him to plunder he went off one fine morning to enjoy his ill-gotten hoard en bourgeois. His mysterious smile was at last explained. This humble, precise human machine was laughing up his sleeve when the gold pieces which went astray found their way — by attraction — into his pocket. Moralists say that even in this world evil will find its own punishment. Louis, who had acquired the habit of stealing, was idiotic enough to steal Julia from his master. One day Monsieur de Rionne, when he came to pay his mistress a visit, had the door shut in his face by his valet.

      He had sunk to these depths when Lorin came to ask Jeanne of him in marriage. It had never yet entered his head that he could make any capital out of his daughter, and the young man’s petition was a revelation to him. He was seeking a refuge in every direction, and now the refuge was found. He was about to have a sure retreat, where he could grow old peacefully and in luxury. And, in a vague sort of way, he hoped he should be able to get a large enough allowance from the young couple, so that perhaps he need not spend such a very dull life after all. He played the part of the dignified father pretty well. His manner was neither too eager nor too frigid. Inwardly he was quaking lest the marriage should not come off. Lorin assured him that Jeanne loved him. That allayed his anxiety, and he became more outspoken. He talked of his daughter with an emotion truly paternal; all he wished for, he said, was her happiness. It was decided that they should both start the next day for Mesuil Rouge, in order that all the arrangements for the marriage might be made, and before Jeanne came back to Paris. Lorin was not sorry to hasten matters, for he had still some hesitation, and he argued that once the folly was committed he must needs put up with the consequences. Directly after their arrival the question of the wedding was raised, and the young girl was consulted.

      Daniel did not close an eye all night. His brain was in such a jumble that he did not know really what to believe. One moment he believed that Lorin was lying; that Jeanne would never marry him. Then a terrible fear seized him, and he was convinced that the marriage would take place. Uppermost in him was a burning sensation of pain in his heart When he depicted Jeanne and Lorin in his mind, side by side, he had furious bursts of rage. When daylight came he tried to calm himself. After all, he said, he only had Lorin’s word to cause him all this despair and irritation. Nothing, perhaps, was settled. He must wait and see; and having gone downstairs, he tried to find out the truth from the expression of the faces round him.

      Monsieur Tellier had his everyday look; nothing in the way of emotion could ever be seen on that massive face. Monsieur de Rionne was manifestly delighted; he paid all sorts of little attentions to his daughter, for he looked on her as a precious object is looked on that one is afraid to lose.

      Madame Tellier was laughing nervously. She, also, seemed to have passed a bad night The fact was that Lorin’s proposal had exasperated her, and she had to reason with herself for a long time, so as not to have an outbreak of passion. She knew that Jeanne was becoming a dangerous rival, and the best thing she could do would be to get rid of her as soon as possible. It would be at the cost of an admirer — she called Lorin her admirer — but it was better to sacrifice one of the number, she thought, than to keep this little girl near her with her clear, ringing, and dangerous laugh. She tried in this way to console herself, but she was really beside herself with anger.

      Lorin was paying his court to Jeanne. With his heart free he played the part of a lover to perfection. Moreover, he appreciated his full value, and had no ridiculous affectation of eagerness about him.

      But the face that Daniel studied with the greatest anxiety was that of Jeanne herself. The young girl had resumed her Parisian coquetry, and was happy in being courted. She willingly allowed it. If she did not show too lively a joy outwardly, yet she seemed charmed with Lorin’s attentions, and talked of Paris like a schoolgirl talks of a ball.

      Then Daniel, with terror, understood how cowardly he had been in forgetting himself in the sweet voluptuousness of Mesuil Rouge. During those long excursions he ought to have made known to her in what light he stood to her; whilst they were there, the young girl and himself, in the silence and freshness of the islets, far from the world, he ought to have opened his heart to her. And now the world stood between them once more.

      Jeanne, during that period, had simply amused herself in playing about like a big child. Now, Lorin’s presence was sufficient to bring back her evil spirit. He seemed to her to be a good enough fellow, rather foolish, but otherwise very well behaved.

      When she was made acquainted with his proposal — which she expected, by the way — she recklessly accepted it, seeing