as a brother and whom he continued to see on the sly, since his wife, he did not know why, had grown angry at the charming fellow.
He stopped to think, looking over the past with anxious eyes. Then he grew angry at himself for harboring this shameful insinuation of the defiant, jealous, bad ego which lives in all of us. He blamed and accused himself when he remembered the visits and the demeanor of this friend whom his wife had dismissed for no apparent reason. But, suddenly, other memories returned to him, similar ruptures due to the vindictive character of Madame Bondel, who never pardoned a slight. Then he laughed frankly at himself for the doubts which he had nursed; and he remembered the angry looks of his wife as he would tell her, when he returned at night: “I saw good old Tancret, and he wished to be remembered to you,” and he reassured himself.
She would invariably answer: “When you see that gentleman you can tell him that I can very well dispense with his remembrances.” With what an irritated, angry look she would say these words! How well one could feel that she did not and would not forgive – and he had suspected her even for a second? Such foolishness!
But why did she grow so angry? She never had given the exact reason for this quarrel. She still bore him that grudge! Was it? – But no – no – and Bondel declared that he was lowering himself by even thinking of such things.
Yes, he was undoubtedly lowering himself, but he could not help thinking of it, and he asked himself with terror if this thought which had entered into his mind had not come to stop, if he did not carry in his heart the seed of fearful torment. He knew himself; he was a man to think over his doubts, as formerly he would ruminate over his commercial operations, for days and nights, endlessly weighing the pros and the cons.
He was already becoming excited; he was walking fast and losing his calmness. A thought cannot be downed. It is intangible, cannot be caught, cannot be killed.
Suddenly a plan occurred to him; it was bold, so bold that at first he doubted whether he would carry it out.
Each time that he met Tancret, his friend would ask for news of Madame Bondel, and Bondel would answer: “She is still a little angry.” Nothing more. Good Lord! What a fool he had been! Perhaps!
Well, he would take the train to Paris, go to Tancret, and bring him back with him that very evening, assuring him that his wife’s mysterious anger had disappeared. But how would Madame Bondel act? What a scene there would be! What anger! what scandal! What of it? – that would be revenge! When she should come face to face with him, unexpectedly, he certainly ought to be able to read the truth in their expressions.
He immediately went to the station, bought his ticket, got into the car, and as soon as he felt him self being carried away by the train, he felt a fear, a kind of dizziness, at what he was going to do. In order not to weaken, back down, and return alone, he tried not to think of the matter any longer, to bring his mind to bear on other affairs, to do what he had decided to do with a blind resolution; and he began to hum tunes from operettas and music halls until he reached Paris.
As soon as he found himself walking along the streets that led to Tancret’s, he felt like stopping, He paused in front of several shops, noticed the prices of certain objects, was interested in new things, felt like taking a glass of beer, which was not his usual custom; and as he approached his friend’s dwelling he ardently hoped not meet him. But Tancret was at home, alone, reading. He jumped up in surprise, crying: “Ah! Bondel! what luck!”
Bondel, embarrassed, answered: “Yes, my dear fellow, I happened to be in Paris, and I thought I’d drop in and shake hands with you.”
“That’s very nice, very nice! The more so that for some time you have not favored me with your presence very often.”
“Well, you see – even against one’s will, one is often influenced by surrounding conditions, and as my wife seemed to bear you some ill-will – ”
“Jove! ‘seemed’ – she did better than that, since she showed me the door.”
“What was the reason? I never heard it.”
“Oh! nothing at all – a bit of foolishness – a discussion in which we did not both agree.”
“But what was the subject of this discussion?”
“A lady of my acquaintance, whom you may perhaps know by name, Madame Boutin.”
“Ah! really. Well, I think that my wife has forgotten her grudge, for this very morning she spoke to me of you in very pleasant terms.”
Tancret started and seemed so dumfounded that for a few minutes he could find nothing to say. Then he asked: “She spoke of me – in pleasant terms?”
“Yes.”
“You are sure?”
“Of course I am. I am not dreaming.”
“And then?”
“And then – as I was coming to Paris I thought that I would please you by coming to tell you the good news.”
“Why, yes – why, yes – ”
Bondel appeared to hesitate; then, after a short pause, he added: “I even had an idea.”
“What is it?”
“To take you back home with me to dinner.”
Tancret, who was naturally prudent, seemed a little worried by this proposition, and he asked: “Oh! really – is it possible? Are we not exposing ourselves to – to – a scene?”
“No, no, indeed!”
“Because, you know, Madame Bendel bears malice for a long time.”
“Yes, but I can assure you that she no longer bears you any ill – will. I am even convinced that it will be a great pleasure for her to see you thus, unexpectedly.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really!”
“Well, then! let us go along. I am delighted. You see, this misunderstanding was very unpleasant for me.”
They set out together toward the Saint-Lazare station, arm in arm. They made the trip in silence. Both seemed absorbed in deep meditation. Seated in the car, one opposite the other, they looked at each other without speaking, each observing that the other was pale.
Then they left the train and once more linked arms as if to unite against some common danger. After a walk of a few minutes they stopped, a little out of breath, before Bondel’s house. Bondel ushered his friend into the parlor, called the servant, and asked: “Is madame at home?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Please ask her to come down at once.”
They dropped into two armchairs and waited. Both were filled with the same longing to escape before the appearance of the much-feared person.
A well-known, heavy tread could be heard descending the stairs. A hand moved the knob, and both men watched the brass handle turn. Then the door opened wide, and Madame Bondel stopped and looked to see who was there before she entered. She looked, blushed, trembled, retreated a step, then stood motionless, her cheeks aflame and her hands resting against the sides of the door frame.
Tancret, as pale as if about to faint, had
