indulged in shrugs of the shoulders. Finally, the moment was reached when it was necessary to be examined on Procedure. The professor, displeased at listening to theories opposed to his own, asked him in a churlish tone:
“And so this is your view, monsieur? How do you reconcile the principle of article 1351 of the Civil Code with this application by a third party to set aside a judgment by default?”
Frederick had a great headache from not having slept the night before. A ray of sunlight, penetrating through one of the slits in a Venetian blind, fell on his face. Standing behind the seat, he kept wriggling about and tugging at his moustache.
“I am still awaiting your answer,” the man with the gold-edged cap observed.
And as Frederick’s movements, no doubt, irritated him:
“You won’t find it in that moustache of yours!”
This sarcasm made the spectators laugh. The professor, feeling flattered, adopted a wheedling tone. He put two more questions with reference to adjournment and summary jurisdiction, then nodded his head by way of approval. The examination was over. Frederick retired into the vestibule.
While an usher was taking off his gown, to draw it over some other person immediately afterwards, his friends gathered around him, and succeeded in fairly bothering him with their conflicting opinions as to the result of his examination. Presently the announcement was made in a sonorous voice at the entrance of the hall: “The third was — put off!”
“Sent packing!” said Hussonnet. “Let us go away!”
In front of the doorkeeper’s lodge they met Martinon, flushed, excited, with a smile on his face and the halo of victory around his brow. He had just passed his final examination without any impediment. All he had now to do was the thesis. Before a fortnight he would be a licentiate. His family enjoyed the acquaintance of a Minister; “a beautiful career” was opening before him.
“All the same, this puts you into a mess,” said Deslauriers.
There is nothing so humiliating as to see blockheads succeed in undertakings in which we fail. Frederick, filled with vexation, replied that he did not care a straw about the matter. He had higher pretensions; and as Hussonnet made a show of leaving, Frederick took him aside, and said to him:
“Not a word about this to them, mind!”
It was easy to keep it secret, since Arnoux was starting the next morning for Germany.
When he came back in the evening the clerk found his friend singularly altered: he danced about and whistled; and the other was astonished at this capricious change of mood. Frederick declared that he did not intend to go home to his mother, as he meant to spend his holidays working.
At the news of Arnoux’s departure, a feeling of delight had taken possession of him. He might present himself at the house whenever he liked without any fear of having his visits broken in upon. The consciousness of absolute security would make him self-confident. At last he would not stand aloof, he would not be separated from her! Something more powerful than an iron chain attached him to Paris; a voice from the depths of his heart called out to him to remain.
There were certain obstacles in his path. These he got over by writing to his mother: he first of all admitted that he had failed to pass, owing to alterations made in the course — a mere mischance — an unfair thing; besides, all the great advocates (he referred to them by name) had been rejected at their examinations. But he calculated on presenting himself again in the month of November. Now, having no time to lose, he would not go home this year; and he asked, in addition to the quarterly allowance, for two hundred and fifty francs, to get coached in law by a private tutor, which would be of great assistance to him; and he threw around the entire epistle a garland of regrets, condolences, expressions of endearment, and protestations of filial love.
Madame Moreau, who had been expecting him the following day, was doubly grieved. She threw a veil over her son’s misadventure, and in answer told him to “come all the same.” Frederick would not give way, and the result was a falling out between them. However, at the end of the week, he received the amount of the quarter’s allowance together with the sum required for the payment of the private tutor, which helped to pay for a pair of pearl-grey trousers, a white felt hat, and a gold-headed switch. When he had procured all these things he thought:
“Perhaps this is only a hairdresser’s fancy on my part!”
And a feeling of considerable hesitation took possession of him.
In order to make sure as to whether he ought to call on Madame Arnoux, he tossed three coins into the air in succession. On each occasion luck was in his favour. So then Fate must have ordained it. He hailed a cab and drove to the Rue de Choiseul.
He quickly ascended the staircase and drew the bell-pull, but without effect. He felt as if he were about to faint.
Then, with fierce energy, he shook the heavy silk tassel. There was a resounding peal which gradually died away till no further sound was heard. Frederick got rather frightened.
He pasted his ear to the door — not a breath! He looked in through the keyhole, and only saw two reed-points on the wallpaper in the midst of designs of flowers. At last, he was on the point of going away when he changed his mind. This time, he gave a timid little ring. The door flew open, and Arnoux himself appeared on the threshold, with his hair all in disorder, his face crimson, and his features distorted by an expression of sullen embarrassment.
“Hallo! What the deuce brings you here? Come in!”
He led Frederick, not into the boudoir or into the bedroom, but into the dining-room, where on the table could be seen a bottle of champagne and two glasses; and, in an abrupt tone:
“There is something you want to ask me, my dear friend?”
“No! nothing! nothing!” stammered the young man, trying to think of some excuse for his visit. At length, he said to Arnoux that he had called to know whether they had heard from him, as Hussonnet had announced that he had gone to Germany.
“Not at all!” returned Arnoux. “What a feather-headed fellow that is to take everything in the wrong way!”
In order to conceal his agitation, Frederick kept walking from right to left in the dining-room. Happening to come into contact with a chair, he knocked down a parasol which had been laid across it, and the ivory handle got broken.
“Good heavens!” he exclaimed. “How sorry I am for having broken Madame Arnoux’s parasol!”
At this remark, the picture-dealer raised his head and smiled in a very peculiar fashion. Frederick, taking advantage of the opportunity thus offered to talk about her, added shyly:
“Could I not see her?”
No. She had gone to the country to see her mother, who was ill.
He did not venture to ask any questions as to the length of time that she would be away. He merely enquired what was Madame Arnoux’s native place.
“Chartres. Does this astonish you?”
“Astonish me? Oh, no! Why should it! Not in the least!”
After that, they could find absolutely nothing to talk about. Arnoux, having made a cigarette for himself, kept walking
