The stars were paling. It was the cool hour that
precedes the dawn. The moon was sinking on the
horizon and turning the sea to mother of pearl.
The recollection of the night she passed at the window
when she first came to the “Poplars” came
to Jeanne’s mind. How far away it seemed,
how everything was changed, how different the future
now seemed!
The sky was becoming pink, a joyous, love-inspiring,
enchanting pink. She looked at it in surprise,
as at some phenomenon, this radiant break of day,
and asked herself if it were possible that, on a planet
where such dawns were found, there should be neither
joy nor happiness.
A noise at the door made her start. It was Julien.
“Well,” he said, “are you not very
tired?”
She murmured, “No,” happy at being no
longer alone. “Go and rest now,”
he said. She kissed her mother a long, sad kiss;
then she went to her room.
The next day passed in the usual attentions to the
dead. The baron arrived toward evening.
He wept for some time.
The funeral took place the following day. After
pressing a last kiss on her mother’s icy forehead
and seeing the coffin nailed down, Jeanne left the
room. The invited guests would soon arrive.
Gilberte was the first to come, and she threw herself
sobbing on her friend’s shoulder. Women
in black presently entered the room one after another,
people whom Jeanne did not know. The Marquise
de Coutelier and the Vicomtesse de Briseville embraced
her. She suddenly saw Aunt Lison gliding in behind
her. She turned round and kissed her tenderly.
Julien came in, dressed all in black, elegant, very
important, pleased at seeing so many people.
He asked his wife some question in a low tone and
added confidentially: “All the nobility
are here; it will be a fine affair.” And
he walked away, gravely bowing to the ladies.
Aunt Lison and Comtesse Gilberte alone remained with
Jeanne during the service for the dead. The comtesse
kissed her repeatedly, exclaiming: “My
poor dear, my poor dear!”
When Comte de Fourville came to fetch his wife he
was also crying as though it were for his own mother.
* * * *
*
RETRIBUTION
The following days were very sad and dreary, as they
always are when there has been a death in the house.
And, in addition, Jeanne was crushed at the thought
of what she had discovered; her last shred of confidence
had been destroyed with the destruction of her faith.
Little father, after a short stay, went away to try
and distract his thoughts from his grief, and the
large house, whose former masters were leaving it
from time to time, resumed its usual calm and monotonous
course.
Then Paul fell ill, and Jeanne was almost beside herself,
not sleeping for ten days, and scarcely tasting food.
He recovered, but she was haunted by the idea that
he might die. Then what should she do? What
would become of her? And there gradually stole
into her heart the hope that she might have another
child. She dreamed of it, became obsessed with
the idea. She longed to realize her old dream
of seeing two little children around her; a boy and
a girl.
