The Works of Guy de Maupassant Volume VI Part 46

He wanted to refuse, observing: "No, I will not take that money."

Then she grew indignant. "Ah! so you won't take it now. It is yours, yours, only. If you do not take it, I will throw it into the gutter. You won't act like that, George?"

He received the little bundle, and slipped it into his pocket.

"We must go in," said he, "you will catch cold."

She murmured: "So much the better, if I could die."

She took one of his hands, kissed it pa.s.sionately, with rage and despair, and fled towards the mansion. He returned, quietly reflecting.

Then he re-entered the conservatory with haughty forehead and smiling lip. His wife and Laroche-Mathieu were no longer there. The crowd was thinning. It was becoming evident that they would not stay for the dance. He perceived Susan arm-in-arm with her sister. They both came towards him to ask him to dance the first quadrille with the Count de Latour Yvelin.

He was astonished, and asked: "Who is he, too?"

Susan answered maliciously: "A new friend of my sister's." Rose blushed, and murmured: "You are very spiteful, Susan; he is no more my friend than yours."

Susan smiled, saying: "Oh! I know all about it."

Rose annoyed, turned her back on them and went away. Du Roy familiarly took the elbow of the young girl left standing beside him, and said in his caressing voice: "Listen, my dear, you believe me to be your friend?"

"Yes, Pretty-boy."

"You have confidence in me?" "Quite."

"You remember what I said to you just now?"

"What about?"

"About your marriage, or rather about the man you are going to marry."

"Yes."

"Well, then, you will promise me one thing?"

"Yes; but what is it?"

"To consult me every time that your hand is asked for, and not to accept anyone without taking my advice."

"Very well."

"And to keep this a secret between us two. Not a word of it to your father or your mother."

"Not a word."

"It is a promise, then?" "It is a promise."

Rival came up with a bustling air. "Mademoiselle, your papa wants you for the dance."

She said: "Come along, Pretty-boy."

But he refused, having made up his mind to leave at once, wis.h.i.+ng to be alone in order to think. Too many new ideas had entered his mind, and he began to look for his wife. In a short time he saw her drinking chocolate at the buffet with two gentlemen unknown to him. She introduced her husband without mentioning their names to him. After a few moments, he said, "Shall we go?"

"When you like."

She took his arm, and they walked back through the reception-rooms, in which the public were growing few. She said: "Where is Madame Walter, I should like to wish her good-bye?"

"It is better not to. She would try to keep us for the ball, and I have had enough of this."

"That is so, you are quite right."

All the way home they were silent. But as soon as they were in their room Madeleine said smilingly, before even taking off her veil. "I have a surprise for you."

He growled ill-temperedly: "What is it?"

"Guess." "I will make no such effort."

"Well, the day after to-morrow is the first of January."

"Yes."

"The time for New Year's gifts."

"Yes."

"Here's one for you that Laroche-Mathieu gave me just now."

She gave him a little black box resembling a jewel-case. He opened it indifferently, and saw the cross of the Legion of Honor. He grew somewhat pale, then smiled, and said: "I should have preferred ten millions. That did not cost him much."

She had expected an outburst of joy, and was irritated at this coolness.

"You are really incredible. Nothing satisfies you now," said she.

He replied, tranquilly: "That man is only paying his debt, and he still owes me a great deal."

She was astonished at his tone, and resumed: "It is though, a big thing at your age."

He remarked: "All things are relative. I could have something bigger now."

He had taken the case, and placing it on the mantel-shelf, looked for some moments at the glittering star it contained. Then he closed it and went to bed, shrugging his shoulders.

The _Journal Officiel_ of the first of January announced the nomination of Monsieur Prosper George Du Roy, journalist, to the dignity of chevalier of the Legion of Honor, for special services. The name was written in two words, which gave George more pleasure than the derivation itself.

An hour after having read this piece of news he received a note from Madame Walter begging him to come and dine with her that evening with his wife, to celebrate his new honors. He hesitated for a few moments, and then throwing this note, written in ambiguous terms, into the fire, said to Madeleine:

"We are going to dinner at the Walter's this evening."

She was astonished. "Why, I thought you never wanted to set foot in the house again."

He only remarked: "I have changed my mind."