The Guy de Maupassant MEGAPACK ®. Guy de Maupassant
Читать онлайн книгу.
old servant, who was nearly choked with surprise, turned and went out, slamming the door so violently after her that the lustres on the chandelier rattled, and for some seconds it sounded as if a number of little invisible bells were ringing in the drawing-room.
Eight o’clock struck, the door opened, and Julie came in again. She had lost her look of exasperation, but now she put on an air of cold and determined resolution, which was still more formidable.
“Monsieur,” she said, “I served your mother until the day of her death, and I have attended to you from your birth until now, and I think it may be said that I am devoted to the family.” She waited for a reply, and Parent stammered:
“Why, yes, certainly, my good Julie.”
“You know quite well,” she continued, “that I have never done anything for the sake of money, but always for your sake; that I have never deceived you nor lied to you, that you have never had to find fault with me—”
“Certainly, my good Julie.”
“Very well, then, monsieur; it cannot go on any longer like this. I have said nothing, and left you in your ignorance, out of respect and liking for you, but it is too much, and every one in the neighborhood is laughing at you. Everybody knows about it, and so I must tell you also, although I do not like to repeat it. The reason why madame comes in at any time she chooses is that she is doing abominable things.”
He seemed stupefied and not to understand, and could only stammer out:
“Hold your tongue; you know I have forbidden you—”
But she interrupted him with irresistible resolution. “No, monsieur, I must tell you everything now. For a long time madame has been carrying on with Monsieur Limousin. I have seen them kiss scores of times behind the door. Ah! you may be sure that if Monsieur Limousin had been rich, madame would never have married Monsieur Parent. If you remember how the marriage was brought about, you would understand the matter from beginning to end.”
Parent had risen, and stammered out, his face livid: “Hold your tongue—hold your tongue, or—”
She went on, however: “No, I mean to tell you everything. She married you from interest, and she deceived you from the very first day. It was all settled between them beforehand. You need only reflect for a few moments to understand it, and then, as she was not satisfied with having married you, as she did not love you, she has made your life miserable, so miserable that it has almost broken my heart when I have seen it.”
He walked up and down the room with hands clenched, repeating: “Hold your tongue—hold your tongue—” For he could find nothing else to say. The old servant, however, would not yield; she seemed resolved on everything.
George, who had been at first astonished and then frightened at those angry voices, began to utter shrill screams, and remained behind his father, with his face puckered up and his mouth open, roaring.
His son’s screams exasperated Parent, and filled him with rage and courage. He rushed at Julie with both arms raised, ready to strike her, exclaiming: “Ah! you wretch. You will drive the child out of his senses.” He already had his hand on her, when she screamed in his face:
“Monsieur, you may beat me if you like, me who reared you, but that will not prevent your wife from deceiving you, or alter the fact that your child is not yours—”
He stopped suddenly, let his arms fall, and remained standing opposite to her, so overwhelmed that he could understand nothing more.
“You need only to look at the child,” she added, “to know who is its father! He is the very image of Monsieur Limousin. You need only look at his eyes and forehead. Why, a blind man could not be mistaken in him.”
He had taken her by the shoulders, and was now shaking her with all his might. “Viper, viper!” he said. “Go out the room, viper! Go out, or I shall kill you! Go out! Go out!”
And with a desperate effort he threw her into the next room. She fell across the table, which was laid for dinner, breaking the glasses. Then, rising to her feet, she put the table between her master and herself. While he was pursuing her, in order to take hold of her again, she flung terrible words at him.
“You need only go out this evening after dinner, and come in again immediately, and you will see! You will see whether I have been lying! Just try it, and you will see.” She had reached the kitchen door and escaped, but he ran after her, up the back stairs to her bedroom, into which she had locked herself, and knocking at the door, he said:
“You will leave my house this very instant!”
“You may be certain of that, monsieur,” was her reply. “In an hour’s time I shall not be here any longer.”
He then went slowly downstairs again, holding on to the banister so as not to fall, and went back to the drawing-room, where little George was sitting on the floor, crying. He fell into a chair, and looked at the child with dull eyes. He understood nothing, knew nothing more; he felt dazed, stupefied, mad, as if he had just fallen on his head, and he scarcely even remembered the dreadful things the servant had told him. Then, by degrees, his mind, like muddy water, became calmer and clearer, and the abominable revelations began to work in his heart.
He was no longer thinking of George. The child was quiet now and sitting on the carpet; but, seeing that no notice was being taken of him, he began to cry. His father ran to him, took him in his arms, and covered him with kisses. His child remained to him, at any rate! What did the rest matter? He held him in his arms and pressed his lips to his light hair, and, relieved and composed, he whispered:
“George—my little George—my dear little George—” But he suddenly remembered what Julie had said! Yes, she had said that he was Limousin’s child. Oh! it could not be possible, surely. He could not believe it, could not doubt, even for a moment, that he was his own child. It was one of those low scandals which spring from servants’ brains! And he repeated: “George—my dear little George.” The youngster was quiet again, now that his father was fondling him.
Parent felt the warmth of the little chest penetrate through his clothes, and it filled him with love, courage, and happiness; that gentle warmth soothed him, fortified him and saved him. Then he put the small, curly head away from him a little, and looked at it affectionately, still repeating: “George! Oh, my little George!” But suddenly he thought:
“Suppose he were to resemble Limousin, after all!” He looked at him with haggard, troubled eyes, and tried to discover whether there was any likeness in his forehead, in his nose, mouth, or cheeks. His thoughts wandered as they do when a person is going mad, and his child’s face changed in his eyes, and assumed a strange look and improbable resemblances.
The hall bell rang. Parent gave a bound as if a bullet had gone through him. “There she is,” he said. “What shall I do?” And he ran and locked himself up in his room, to have time to bathe his eyes. But in a few moments another ring at the bell made him jump again, and then he remembered that Julie had left, without the housemaid knowing it, and so nobody would go to open the door. What was he to do? He went himself, and suddenly he felt brave, resolute, ready for dissimulation and the struggle. The terrible blow had matured him in a few moments. He wished to know the truth, he desired it with the rage of a timid man, and with the tenacity of an easy-going man who has been exasperated.
Nevertheless, he trembled. Does one know how much excited cowardice there often is in boldness? He went to the door with furtive steps, and stopped to listen; his heart beat furiously. Suddenly, however, the noise of the bell over his head startled him like an explosion. He seized the lock, turned the key, and opening the door, saw his wife and Limousin standing before him on the stairs.
With an air of astonishment, which also betrayed a little irritation, she said:
“So you open the door now? Where is Julie?”
His throat felt tight and his breathing was labored as he tried to. reply, without being able to utter a word.
“Are you