Bel Ami; Or, The History of a Scoundrel: A Novel

by Guy de Maupassant

  CHAPTER XV.

  SUZANNE

  Morocco had been conquered; France, the mistress of Tangiers, hadguaranteed the debt of the annexed country. It was rumored that twoministers, Laroche-Mathieu being one of them, had made twenty millions.

  As for Walter, in a few days he had become one of the masters of theworld--a financier more omnipotent than a king. He was no longer theJew, Walter, the director of a bank, the proprietor of a yellownewspaper; he was M. Walter the wealthy Israelite, and he wished toprove it.

  Knowing the straitened circumstances of the Prince de Carlsbourg whoowned one of the fairest mansions on Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore, heproposed to buy it. He offered three million francs for it. The prince,tempted by the sum, accepted his offer; the next day, Walter tookpossession of his new dwelling. Then another idea occurred to him--anidea of conquering all Paris--an idea a la Bonaparte.

  At that time everyone was raving over a painting by the Hungarian, KarlMarcovitch, exhibited by Jacques Lenoble and representing "ChristWalking on the Water." Art critics enthusiastically declared it to bethe most magnificent painting of the age. Walter bought it, therebycausing entire Paris to talk of him, to envy him, to censure or approvehis action. He issued an announcement in the papers that everyone wasinvited to come on a certain evening to see it.

  Du Roy was jealous of M. Walter's success. He had thought himselfwealthy with the five hundred thousand francs extorted from his wife,and now he felt poor as he compared his paltry fortune with the showerof millions around him. His envious rage increased daily. He cherishedill will toward everyone--toward the Walters, even toward his wife, andabove all toward the man who had deceived him, made use of him, and whodined twice a week at his house. Georges acted as his secretary, agent,mouthpiece, and when he wrote at his dictation, he felt a mad desire tostrangle him. Laroche reigned supreme in the Du Roy household, havingtaken the place of Count de Vaudrec; he spoke to the servants as if hewere their master. Georges submitted to it all, like a dog which wishesto bite and dares not. But he was often harsh and brutal to Madeleine,who merely shrugged her shoulders and treated him as one would afretful child. She was surprised, too, at his constant ill humor, andsaid: "I do not understand you. You are always complaining. Yourposition is excellent."

  His only reply was to turn his back upon her. He declared that he wouldnot attend M. Walter's fete--that he would not cross the miserableJew's threshold. For two months Mme. Walter had written to him daily,beseeching him to come to see her, to appoint a meeting where he would,in order that she might give him the seventy thousand francs she hadmade for him. He did not reply and threw her letters into the fire. Notthat he would have refused to accept his share of the profits, but heenjoyed treating her scornfully, trampling her under foot; she was toowealthy; he would be inflexible.

  The day of the exhibition of the picture, as Madeleine chided him fornot going, he replied: "Leave me in peace. I shall remain at home."

  After they had dined, he said suddenly, "I suppose I shall have to gothrough with it. Get ready quickly."

  "I shall be ready in fifteen minutes," she said.

  As they entered the courtyard of the Hotel de Carlsbourg it was oneblaze of light. A magnificent carpet was spread upon the steps leadingto the entrance, and upon each one stood a man in livery, as rigid asmarble.

  Du Roy's heart was torn with jealousy. He and his wife ascended thesteps and gave their wraps to the footmen who approached them.

  At the entrance to the drawing-room, two children, one in pink, theother in blue, handed bouquets to the ladies.

  The rooms were already well filled. The majority of the ladies were instreet costumes, a proof that they came thither as they would go to anyexhibition. The few who intended to remain to the ball which was tofollow wore evening dress.

  Mme. Walter, surrounded by friends, stood in the second salon andreceived the visitors. Many did not know her, and walked through therooms as if in a museum--without paying any heed to the host andhostess.

  When Virginie perceived Du Roy, she grew livid and made a movementtoward him; then she paused and waited for him to advance. He bowedceremoniously, while Madeleine greeted her effusively. Georges left hiswife near Mme. Walter and mingled with the guests. Five drawing-roomsopened one into the other; they were carpeted with rich, oriental rugs,and upon their walls hung paintings by the old masters. As he made hisway through the throng, some one seized his arm, and a fresh, youthfulvoice whispered in his ear: "Ah, here you are at last, naughty Bel-Ami!Why do we never see you any more?"

  It was Suzanne Walter, with her azure eyes and wealth of golden hair.He was delighted to see her, and apologized as they shook hands.

  "I have been so busy for two months that I have been nowhere."

  She replied gravely: "That is too bad. You have grieved us deeply, formamma and I adore you. As for myself, I cannot do without you. If youare not here, I am bored to death. You see I tell you so frankly, thatyou will not remain away like that any more. Give me your arm; I willshow you 'Christ Walking on the Water' myself; it is at the very end,behind the conservatory. Papa put it back there so that everyone wouldbe obliged to go through the rooms. It is astonishing how proud papa isof this house."

  As they walked through the rooms, all turned to look at that handsomeman and that bewitching girl. A well-known painter said: "There is afine couple." Georges thought: "If my position had been made, I wouldhave married her. Why did I never think of it? How could I have takenthe other one? What folly! One always acts too hastily--one neverreflects sufficiently." And longing, bitter longing possessed him,corrupting all his pleasure, rendering life odious.

  Suzanne said: "You must come often, Bel-Ami; we can do anything we likenow papa is rich."

  He replied: "Oh, you will soon marry--some prince, perhaps, and weshall never meet any more."

  She cried frankly: "Oh, oh, I shall not! I shall choose some one I lovevery dearly. I am rich enough for two."

  He smiled ironically and said: "I give you six months. By that time youwill be Madame la Marquise, Madame la Duchesse, or Madame la Princesse,and you will look down upon me, Mademoiselle."

  She pretended to be angry, patted his arm with her fan, and vowed thatshe would marry according to the dictates of her heart.

  He replied: "We shall see; you are too wealthy."

  "You, too, have inherited some money."

  "Barely twenty thousand livres a year. It is a mere pittance nowadays."

  "But your wife has the same."

  "Yes, we have a million together; forty thousand a year. We cannot evenkeep a carriage on that."

  They had, in the meantime, reached the last drawing-room, and beforethem lay the conservatory with its rare shrubs and plants. To theirleft, under a dome of palms, was a marble basin, on the edges of whichfour large swans of delftware emitted the water from their beaks.

  The journalist stopped and said to himself: "This is luxury; this isthe kind of house in which to live. Why can I not have one?"

  His companion did not speak. He looked at her and thought once more:"If I only had taken her!"

  Suddenly Suzanne seemed to awaken from her reverie. "Come," said she,dragging Georges through a group which barred their way, and turninghim to the right. Before him, surrounded by verdure on all sides, wasthe picture. One had to look closely at it in order to understand it.It was a grand work--the work of a master--one of those triumphs of artwhich furnishes one for years with food for thought.

  Du Roy gazed at it for some time, and then turned away, to make roomfor others. Suzanne's tiny hand still rested upon his arm. She asked:

  "Would you like a glass of champagne? We will go to the buffet; weshall find papa there."

  Slowly they traversed the crowded rooms. Suddenly Georges heard a voicesay: "That is Laroche and Mme. du Roy."

  He turned and saw his wife passing upon the minister's arm. They weretalking in low tones and smiling into each other's eyes. He fancied hesaw some people whisper, as they gazed at them,
and he felt a desire tofall upon those two beings and smite them to the earth. His wife wasmaking a laughing-stock of him. Who was she? A shrewd little parvenue,that was all. He could never make his way with a wife who compromisedhim. She would be a stumbling-block in his path. Ah, if he hadforeseen, if he had known. He would have played for higher stakes. Whata brilliant match he might have made with little Suzanne! How could hehave been so blind?

  They reached the dining-room with its marble columns and walls hungwith old Gobelins tapestry. Walter spied his editor, and hastened toshake hands. He was beside himself with joy. "Have you seen everything?Say, Suzanne, have you shown him everything? What a lot of people, eh?Have you seen Prince de Guerche? he just drank a glass of punch." Thenhe pounced upon Senator Rissolin and his wife.

  A gentleman greeted Suzanne--a tall, slender man with fair whiskers anda worldly air. Georges heard her call him Marquis de Cazolles, and hewas suddenly inspired with jealousy. How long had she known him? Sinceshe had become wealthy no doubt. He saw in him a possible suitor. Someone seized his arm. It was Norbert de Varenne. The old poet said: "Thisis what they call amusing themselves. After a while they will dance,then they will retire, and the young girls will be satisfied. Take somechampagne; it is excellent."

  Georges scarcely heard his words. He was looking for Suzanne, who hadgone off with the Marquis de Cazolles; he left Norbert de Varenneabruptly and went in pursuit of the young girl. The thirsty crowdstopped him; when he had made his way through it, he found himself faceto face with M. and Mme. de Marelle. He had often met the wife, but hehad not met the husband for some time; the latter grasped both of hishands and thanked him for the message he had sent him by Clotilderelative to the stocks.

  Du Roy replied: "In exchange for that service I shall take your wife,or rather offer her my arm. Husband and wife should always beseparated."

  M. de Marelle bowed. "Very well. If I lose you we can meet here againin an hour."

  The two young people disappeared in the crowd, followed by the husband.Mme. de Marelle said: "There are two girls who will have twenty orthirty millions each, and Suzanne is pretty in the bargain."

  He made no reply; his own thought coming from the lips of anotherirritated him. He took Clotilde to see the painting. As they crossedthe conservatory he saw his wife seated near Laroche-Mathieu, both ofthem almost hidden behind a group of plants. They seemed to say: "Weare having a meeting in public, for we do not care for the world'sopinion."

  Mme. de Marelle admired Karl Marcovitch's painting, and they turned torepair to the other rooms. They were separated from M. de Marelle. Heasked: "Is Laurine still vexed with me?"

  "Yes. She refuses to see you and goes away when you are mentioned."

  He did not reply. The child's sudden enmity grieved and annoyed him.

  Suzanne met them at a door and cried: "Oh, here you are! Now, Bel-Ami,you are going to be left alone, for I shall take Clotilde to see myroom." And the two women glided through the throng. At that moment avoice at his side murmured: "Georges!"

  It was Mme. Walter. She continued in a low voice: "How cruel you are!How needlessly you inflict suffering upon me. I bade Suzanne take thatwoman away that I might have a word with you. Listen: I must speak toyou this evening--or--or--you do not know what I shall do. Go into theconservatory. You will find a door to the left through which you canreach the garden. Follow the walk directly in front of you. At the endof it you will see an arbor. Expect me in ten minutes. If you do notmeet me, I swear I will cause a scandal here at once!"

  He replied haughtily: "Very well, I shall be at the place you named inten minutes."

  But Jacques Rival detained him. When he reached the alley, he saw Mme.Walter in front of him; she cried: "Ah, here you are! Do you wish tokill me?"

  He replied calmly: "I beseech you, none of that, or I shall leave youat once."

  Throwing her arms around his neck, she exclaimed: "What have I done toyou that you should treat me so?"

  He tried to push her away: "You twisted your hair around my coatbuttons the last time we met, and it caused trouble between my wife andmyself."

  She shook her head: "Ah, your wife would not care. It was one of yourmistresses who made a scene."

  "I have none."

  "Indeed! Why do you never come to see me? Why do you refuse to dinewith me even once a week? I have no other thoughts than of you. Isuffer terribly. You cannot understand that your image, always present,closes my throat, stifles me, and leaves me scarcely strength enough tomove my limbs in order to walk. So I remain all day in my chairthinking of you."

  He looked at her in astonishment. These were the words of a desperatewoman, capable of anything. He, however, cherished a vague project andreplied: "My dear, love is not eternal. One loves and one ceases tolove. When it lasts it becomes a drawback. I want none of it! However,if you will be reasonable, and will receive and treat me as a friend, Iwill come to see you as formerly. Can you do that?"

  She murmured: "I can do anything in order to see you."

  "Then it is agreed that we are to be friends, nothing more."

  She gasped: "It is agreed"; offering him her lips she cried in herdespair: "One more kiss--one last kiss!"

  He gently drew back. "No, we must adhere to our rules."

  She turned her head and wiped away two tears, then drawing from herbosom a package of notes tied with pink ribbon, she held it toward DuRoy: "Here is your share of the profits in that Moroccan affair. I wasso glad to make it for you. Here, take it."

  He refused: "No, I cannot accept that money."

  She became excited: "Oh, you will not refuse it now! It is yours, yoursalone. If you do not take it, I will throw it in the sewer. You willnot refuse it, Georges!"

  He took the package and slipped it into his pocket "We must return tothe house; you will take cold."

  "So much the better; if I could but die!"

  She seized his hand, kissed it passionately, and fled toward the house.He returned more leisurely, and entered the conservatory with headerect and smiling lips. His wife and Laroche were no longer there. Thecrowd had grown thinner. Suzanne, leaning on her sister's arm, advancedtoward him. In a few moments, Rose, whom they teased about a certainCount, turned upon her heel and left them.

  Du Roy, finding himself alone with Suzanne, said in a caressing voice:"Listen, my dear little one; do you really consider me a friend?"

  "Why, yes, Bel-Ami."

  "You have faith in me?"

  "Perfect faith."

  "Do you remember what I said to you a while since?"

  "About what?"

  "About your marriage, or rather the man you would marry."

  "Yes."

  "Well, will you promise me one thing?"

  "Yes; what is it?"

  "To consult me when you receive a proposal and to accept no one withoutasking my advice."

  "Yes, I will gladly."

  "And it is to be a secret between us--not a word to your father ormother."

  "Not a word."

  Rival approached them saying: "Mademoiselle, your father wants you inthe ballroom."

  She said: "Come, Bel-Ami," but he refused, for he had decided to leaveat once, wishing to be alone with his thoughts. He went in search ofhis wife, and found her drinking chocolate at the buffet with twostrange men. She introduced her husband without naming them.

  In a short while, he asked: "Shall we go?"

  "Whenever you like."

  She took his arm and they passed through the almost deserted rooms.

  Madeleine asked: "Where is Mme. Walter; I should like to bid hergood-bye."

  "It is unnecessary. She would try to keep us in the ballroom, and Ihave had enough."

  "You are right."

  On the way home they did not speak. But when they had entered theirroom, Madeleine, without even taking off her veil, said to him with asmile: "I have a surprise for you."

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

  "Guess."

  "I cannot make the ef
fort."

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

  "Yes."

  "It is the season for New Year's gifts."

  "Yes."

  "Here is yours, which Laroche handed me just now." She gave him a smallblack box which resembled a jewel-casket.

  He opened it indifferently and saw the cross of the Legion of Honor. Heturned a trifle pale, then smiled, and said: "I should have preferredten millions. That did not cost him much."

  She had expected a transport of delight and was irritated by hisindifference.

  "You are incomprehensible. Nothing seems to satisfy you."

  He replied calmly: "That man is only paying his debts; he owes me agreat deal more."

  She was astonished at his tone, and said: "It is very nice, however, atyour age."

  He replied: "I should have much more."

  He took the casket, placed it on the mantelpiece, and looked for someminutes at the brilliant star within it, then he closed it with a shrugof his shoulders and began to prepare to retire.

  "L'Officiel" of January 1 announced that M. Prosper Georges du Roy hadbeen decorated with the Legion of Honor for exceptional services. Thename was written in two words, and that afforded Georges more pleasurethan the decoration itself.

  An hour after having read that notice, he received a note from Mme.Walter, inviting him to come and bring his wife to dine with them thatevening, to celebrate his distinction.

  At first he hesitated, then throwing the letter in the fire, he said toMadeleine: "We shall dine at the Walters' this evening."

  In her surprise she exclaimed: "Why, I thought you would never set yourfoot in their house again."

  His sole reply was: "I have changed my mind."

  When they arrived at Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore, they found Mme.Walter alone in the dainty boudoir in which she received her intimatefriends. She was dressed in black and her hair was powdered. At adistance she appeared like an old lady, in proximity, like a youthfulone.

  "Are you in mourning?" asked, Madeleine.

  She replied sadly: "Yes and no. I have lost none of my relatives, but Ihave arrived at an age when one should wear somber colors. I wear itto-day to inaugurate it; hitherto I have worn it in my heart."

  The dinner was somewhat tedious. Suzanne alone talked incessantly. Roseseemed preoccupied. The journalist was overwhelmed withcongratulations, after the meal, when all repaired to thedrawing-rooms. Mme. Walter detained him as they were about to enter thesalon, saying: "I will never speak of anything to you again, only cometo see me, Georges. It is impossible for me to live without you. I seeyou, I feel you, in my heart all day and all night. It is as if I haddrunk a poison which preyed upon me. I cannot bear it. I would ratherbe as an old woman to you. I powdered my hair for that reason to-night;but come here--come from time to time as a friend."

  He replied calmly: "Very well. It is unnecessary to speak of it again.You see I came to-day on receipt of your letter."

  Walter, who had preceded them, with his two daughters and Madeleine,awaited Du Roy near the picture of "Christ Walking on the Water."

  "Only think," said he, "I found my wife yesterday kneeling before thatpainting as if in a chapel. She was praying!"

  Mme. Walter replied in a firm voice, in a voice in which vibrated asecret exaltation: "That Christ will save my soul. He gives me freshcourage and strength every time that I look at Him." And pausing beforethe picture, she murmured: "How beautiful He is! How frightened thosemen are, and how they love Him! Look at His head, His eyes, how simpleand supernatural He is at the same time!"

  Suzanne cried: "Why, He looks like you, Bel-Ami! I am sure He lookslike you. The resemblance is striking."

  She made him stand beside the painting and everyone recognized thelikeness. Du Roy was embarrassed. Walter thought it very singular;Madeleine, with a smile, remarked that Jesus looked more manly. Mme.Walter stood by motionless, staring fixedly at her lover's face, hercheeks as white as her hair.