the purse-第7章

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positionfor　he　had　had　more　than　one　proof　of　her　extreme

povertyan　importunate　thought　would　haunt　him。　Several　times　he

had　said　to　himself　as　he　went　home；　〃Strange！　twenty　francs

every　evening？〃　and　he　dared　not　confess　to　himself　his　odious

suspicions。



He　spent　two　months　over　the　portrait；　and　when　it　was　finished；

varnished；　and　framed；　he　looked　upon　it　as　one　of　his　best

works。　Madame　la　Baronne　de　Rouville　had　never　spoken　of　it

again。　Was　this　from　indifference　or　pride？　The　painter　would　not

allow　himself　to　account　for　this　silence。　He　joyfully　plotted

with　Adelaide　to　hang　the　picture　in　its　place　when　Madame　de

Rouville　should　be　out。　So　one　day；　during　the　walk　her　mother

usually　took　in　the　Tuileries；　Adelaide　for　the　first　time　went

up　to　Hippolyte's　studio；　on　the　pretext　of　seeing　the　portrait

in　the　good　light　in　which　it　had　been　painted。　She　stood

speechless　and　motionless；　but　in　ecstatic　contemplation；　in

which　all　a　woman's　feelings　were　merged。　For　are　they　not　all

comprehended　in　boundless　admiration　for　the　man　she　loves？　When

the　painter；　uneasy　at　her　silence；　leaned　forward　to　look　at

her；　she　held　out　her　hand；　unable　to　speak　a　word；　but　two　tears

fell　from　her　eyes。　Hippolyte　took　her　hand　and　covered　it　with

kisses；　for　a　minute　they　looked　at　each　other　in　silence；　both

longing　to　confess　their　love；　and　not　daring。　The　painter　kept

her　hand　in　his；　and　the　same　glow；　the　same　throb；　told　them

that　their　hearts　were　both　beating　wildly。　The　young　girl；　too

greatly　agitated；　gently　drew　away　from　Hippolyte；　and　said；　with

a　look　of　the　utmost　simplicity：



〃You　will　make　my　mother　very　happy。〃



〃What；　only　your　mother？〃　he　asked。



〃Oh；　I　am　too　happy。〃



The　painter　bent　his　head　and　remained　silent；　frightened　at　the

vehemence　of　the　feelings　which　her　tones　stirred　in　his　heart。

Then；　both　understanding　the　perils　of　the　situation；　they　went

downstairs　and　hung　up　the　picture　in　its　place。　Hippolyte　dined

for　the　first　time　with　the　Baroness；　who；　greatly　overcome；　and

drowned　in　tears；　must　needs　embrace　him。



In　the　evening　the　old　emigre；　the　Baron　de　Rouville's　old

comrade；　paid　the　ladies　a　visit　to　announce　that　he　had　just

been　promoted　to　the　rank　of　vice…admiral。　His　voyages　by　land

over　Germany　and　Russia　had　been　counted　as　naval　campaigns。　On

seeing　the　portrait　he　cordially　shook　the　painter's　hand；　and

exclaimed；　〃By　Gad！　though　my　old　hulk　does　not　deserve　to　be

perpetuated；　I　would　gladly　give　five　hundred　pistoles　to　see

myself　as　like　as　that　is　to　my　dear　old　Rouville。〃



At　this　hint　the　Baroness　looked　at　her　young　friend　and　smiled；

while　her　face　lighted　up　with　an　expression　of　sudden　gratitude。

Hippolyte　suspected　that　the　old　admiral　wished　to　offer　him　the

price　of　both　portraits　while　paying　for　his　own。　His　pride　as　an

artist；　no　less　than　his　jealousy　perhaps；　took　offence　at　the

thought；　and　he　replied：



〃Monsieur；　if　I　were　a　portrait…painter　I　should　not　have　done

this　one。〃



The　admiral　bit　his　lip；　and　sat　down　to　cards。



The　painter　remained　near　Adelaide；　who　proposed　a　dozen　hands　of

piquet；　to　which　he　agreed。　As　he　played　he　observed　in　Madame　de

Rouville　an　excitement　over　her　game　which　surprised　him。　Never

before　had　the　old　Baroness　manifested　so　ardent　a　desire　to　win；

or　so　keen　a　joy　in　fingering　the　old　gentleman's　gold　pieces。

During　the　evening　evil　suspicions　troubled　Hippolyte's

happiness；　and　filled　him　with　distrust。　Could　it　be　that　Madame

de　Rouville　lived　by　gambling？　Was　she　playing　at　this　moment　to

pay　off　some　debt；　or　under　the　pressure　of　necessity？　Perhaps

she　had　not　paid　her　rent。　The　old　man　seemed　shrewd　enough　not

to　allow　his　money　to　be　taken　with　impunity。　What　interest

attracted　him　to　this　poverty…stricken　house；　he　who　was　rich？

Why；　when　he　had　formerly　been　so　familiar　with　Adelaide；　had　he

given　up　the　rights　he　had　acquired；　and　which　were　perhaps　his

due？



These　involuntary　reflections　prompted　him　to　watch　the　old　man

and　the　Baroness；　whose　meaning　looks　and　certain　sidelong

glances　cast　at　Adelaide　displeased　him。　〃Am　I　being　duped？〃　was

Hippolyte's　last　ideahorrible；　scathing；　for　he　believed　it

just　enough　to　be　tortured　by　it。　He　determined　to　stay　after　the

departure　of　the　two　old　men；　to　confirm　or　dissipate　his

suspicions。　He　drew　out　his　purse　to　pay　Adelaide；　but　carried

away　by　his　poignant　thoughts；　he　laid　it　on　the　table；　falling

into　a　reverie　of　brief　duration；　then；　ashamed　of　his　silence；

he　rose；　answered　some　commonplace　question　from　Madame　de

Rouville；　and　went　close　up　to　her　to　examine　the　withered

features　while　he　was　talking　to　her。



He　went　away；　racked　by　a　thousand　doubts。　He　had　gone　down　but　a

few　steps　when　he　turned　back　to　fetch　the　forgotten　purse。



〃I　left　my　purse　here！〃　he　said　to　the　young　girl。



〃No；〃　she　said；　reddening。



〃I　thought　it　was　there；〃　and　he　pointed　to　the　card…table。　Not

finding　it；　in　his　shame　for　Adelaide　and　the　Baroness；　he　looked

at　them　with　a　blank　amazement　that　made　them　laugh；　turned　pale；

felt　his　waistcoat；　and　said；　〃I　must　have　made　a　mistake。　I　have

it　somewhere　no　doubt。〃　



In　one　end　of　the　purse　there　were　fifteen　louis　d'or；　and　in　the

other　some　small　change。　The　theft　was　so　flagrant；　and　denied

with　such　effrontery；　that　Hippolyte　no　longer　felt　a　doubt　as　to

his　neighbors'　morals。　He　stood　still　on　the　stairs；　and　got　down

with　some　difficulty；　his　knees　shook；　he　felt　dizzy；　he　was　in　a

cold　sweat；　he　shivered；　and　found　himself　unable　to　walk；

struggling；　as　he　was；　with　the　agonizing　shock　caused　by　the

destruction　of　all　his　hopes。　And　at　this　moment　he　found　lurking

in　his　memory　a　number　of　observations；　trifling　in　themselves；

but　which　corroborated　his　frightful　suspicions；　and　which；　by

proving　the　certainty　of　this　last　incident；　opened　his　eyes　as

to　the　character　and　life　of　these　two　women。



Had　they　really　waited　till　the　portrait　was　given　them　before

robbing　him　of　his　purse？　In　such　a　combination　the　theft　was

even　more　odious。　The　painter　recollected　that　for　the　last　two

or　three　evenings　Adelaide；　while　seeming　to　examine　with　a

girl's　curiosity　the　particular　stitch　of　the　worn　silk　netting；

was　probably　counting　the　coins　in　the　purse；　while　making　some

light　jests；　quite　innocent　in　appearance；　but　no　doubt　with　the

object　of　watching　for　a　moment　when　the　sum　was　worth　stealing。



〃The　old　admiral　has　perhaps　good　reasons　for　not　marrying

Adelaide；　and　so　the　Baroness　has　tried〃



But　at　this　hypothesis　he　checked　himself；　not　finishing　his

thought；　which　was　contradicted　by　a　very　just　reflection；　〃If

the　Baroness　hopes　to　get　me　to　marry　her　daughter；〃　thought　he；

〃they　would　not　have　robbed　me。〃



Then；　clinging　to　his　illusions；　to　the　love　that　already　had

taken　such　deep　root；　he　tried　to　find　a　justification　in　some

accident。　〃The　purse　must　have　fallen　on　the　floor；〃　said　he　to

himself；　〃or　I　left　it　lying　on　my　chair。　Or　perhaps　I　have　it

about　meI　am　so　absent…minded！〃　He　searched　himself　with

hurried　movements；　but　did　not　find　the　ill…starred　purse。　His

memory　cruelly　retraced　the　fatal　truth；　minute　by　minute。　He

distinctly　saw　the　purse　lying　on　the　green　cloth；　but　then；

doubtful　no　longer；　he　excused　Adelaide；　telling　himself　that

persons　in　misfortune　should　not　be　so　hastily　condemned。　There

was；　of　course；　some　secret　behind　this　apparently　degrading

action。　He　would　not　admit　that　that　proud　and　noble　face　was　a

lie。



At　the　same　time　the　wretched　rooms　rose　before　him；　denuded　of

the　poetry　of　love　which　beautifies　everything；　he　saw　them　dirty

and　faded；　regarding　them　as　emblematic　of　an　inner　life　devoid

of　honor；　idle　and　vicious。　Are　not　our　feelings　written；　as　it

were；　on　the　things　about　us？



Next　morning　he　rose；　not　having　slept。　T