Camille by fils Alexandre Dumas (thriller novels to read txt) đź“•
One day the girl's face was transfigured. In the midst of all the debauches mapped out by her mother, it seemed to her as if God had left over for her one happiness. And why indeed should God, who had made her without strength, have left her without consolation, under the sorrowful burden of her life? One day, then, she realized that she was to have a child, and all that re
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In the midst of these thoughts I fell asleep; I was awakened by a letter from Marguerite containing these words:
“Here are my orders: Tonight at the Vaudeville.
“Come during the third entr’acte.”
I put the letter into a drawer, so that I might always have it at band in case I doubted its reality, as I did from time to time.
She did not tell me to come to see her during the day, and I dared not go; but I had so great a desire to see her before the evening that I went to the Champs-Elysees, where I again saw her pass and repass, as I had on the previous day.
At seven o’clock I was at the Vaudeville. Never had I gone to a theatre so early. The boxes filled one after another. Only one remained empty, the stage box. At the beginning of the third act I heard the door of the box, on which my eyes had been almost constantly fixed, open, and Marguerite appeared. She came to the front at once, looked around the stalls, saw me, and thanked me with a look.
That night she was marvellously beautiful. Was I the cause of this coquetry? Did she love me enough to believe that the more beautiful she looked the happier I should be? I did not know, but if that had been her intention she certainly succeeded, for when she appeared all heads turned, and the actor who was then on the stage looked to see who had produced such an effect on the audience by her mere presence there.
And I had the key of this woman’s room, and in three or four hours she would again be mine!
People blame those who let themselves be ruined by actresses and kept women; what astonishes me is that twenty times greater follies are not committed for them. One must have lived that life, as I have, to know how much the little vanities which they afford their lovers every day help to fasten deeper into the heart, since we have no other word for it, the love which he has for them.
Prudence next took her place in the box, and a man, whom I recognised as the Comte de G., seated himself at the back. As I saw him, a cold shiver went through my heart.
Doubtless Marguerite perceived the impression made on me by the presence of this man, for she smiled to me again, and, turning her back to the count, appeared to be very attentive to the play. At the third entr’acte she turned and said two words: the count left the box, and Marguerite beckoned to me to come to her.
“Good-evening,” she said as I entered, holding out her hand.
“Good-evening,” I replied to both Marguerite and Prudence.
“Sit down.”
“But I am taking some one’s place. Isn’t the Comte de G. coming back?”
“Yes; I sent him to fetch some sweets, so that we could talk by ourselves for a moment. Mme. Duvernoy is in the secret.”
“Yes, my children,” said she; “have no fear. I shall say nothing.”
“What is the matter with you tonight?” said Marguerite, rising and coming to the back of the box and kissing me on the forehead.
“I am not very well.”
“You should go to bed,” she replied, with that ironical air which went so well with her delicate and witty face.
“Where?”
“At home.”
“You know that I shouldn’t be able to sleep there.”
“Well, then, it won’t do for you to come and be pettish here because you have seen a man in my box.”
“It is not for that reason.”
“Yes, it is. I know; and you are wrong, so let us say no more about it. You will go back with Prudence after the theatre, and you will stay there till I call. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
How could I disobey?
“You still love me?”
“Can you ask?”
“You have thought of me?”
“All day long.”
“Do you know that I am really afraid that I shall get very fond of you? Ask Prudence.”
“Ah,” said she, “it is amazing!”
“Now, you must go back to your seat. The count will be coming back, and there is nothing to be gained by his finding you here.”
“Because you don’t like seeing him.”
“No; only if you had told me that you wanted to come to the Vaudeville tonight I could have got this box for you as well as he.”
“Unfortunately, he got it for me without my asking him, and he asked me to go with him; you know well enough that I couldn’t refuse. All I could do was to write and tell you where I was going, so that you could see me, and because I wanted to see you myself; but since this is the way you thank me, I shall profit by the lesson.”
“I was wrong; forgive me.”
“Well and good; and now go back nicely to your place, and, above all, no more jealousy.”
She kissed me again, and I left the box. In the passage I met the count coming back. I returned to my seat.
After all, the presence of M. de G. in Marguerite’s box was the most natural thing in the world. He had been her lover, he sent her a box, he accompanied her to the theatre; it was all quite natural, and if I was to have a mistress like Marguerite I should have to get used to her ways.
Nonetheless, I was very unhappy all the rest of the evening, and went away very sadly after having seen Prudence, the count, and Marguerite get into the carriage, which was waiting for them at the door.
However, a quarter of an hour later I was at Prudence’s. She had only just got in.
“You have come almost as quickly as we,” said Prudence.
“Yes,” I answered mechanically. “Where is Marguerite?”
“At home.”
“Alone?”
“With M. de G.”
I walked to and fro in the room.
“Well, what is the matter?”
“Do you think it amuses me to wait here till M. de G. leaves Marguerite’s?”
“How unreasonable you are! Don’t you see that Marguerite can’t turn the count out of doors? M. de G. has been with her for a long time; he has always given her a lot of money; he still does. Marguerite spends more than a hundred thousand francs a year; she has heaps of debts. The duke gives her all that she asks for, but she does not always venture to ask him for all that she is in want of. It would never do for her to quarrel with the count, who is worth to her at least ten thousand francs a year. Marguerite is very fond of you, my dear fellow, but your liaison with her, in her interests and in yours, ought not to be serious. You with your seven or eight thousand francs a year, what could you do toward supplying all the luxuries which a girl like that is in need of? It would not be enough to keep her carriage. Take Marguerite for what she is, for a good, bright, pretty girl; be her lover for a month, two months; give her flowers, sweets, boxes at the theatre; but don’t get any other ideas into your head, and don’t make absurd scenes of jealousy. You know whom you have to do with; Marguerite isn’t a saint. She likes you, you are very fond of her; let the rest alone. You amaze me when I see you so touchy; you have the most charming mistress in Paris. She receives you in the greatest style, she is covered with diamonds, she needn’t cost you a penny, unless you like, and you are not satisfied. My dear fellow, you ask too much!”
“You are right, but I can’t help it; the idea that that man is her lover hurts me horribly.”
“In the first place,” replied Prudence; “is he still her lover? He is a man who is useful to her, nothing more. She has closed her doors to him for two days; he came this morning—she could not but accept the box and let him accompany her. He saw her home; he has gone in for a moment, he is not staying, because you are waiting here. All that, it seems to me, is quite natural. Besides, you don’t mind the duke.”
“Yes; but he is an old man, and I am sure that Marguerite is not his mistress. Then, it is all very well to accept one liaison, but not two. Such easiness in the matter is very like calculation, and puts the man who consents to it, even out of love, very much in the category of those who, in a lower stage of society, make a trade of their connivance, and a profit of their trade.”
“Ah, my dear fellow, how old-fashioned you are! How many of the richest and most fashionable men of the best families I have seen quite ready to do what I advise you to do, and without an effort, without shame, without remorse, Why, one sees it every day. How do you suppose the kept women in Paris could live in the style they do, if they had not three or four lovers at once? No single fortune, however large, could suffice for the expenses of a woman like Marguerite. A fortune of five hundred thousand francs a year is, in France, an enormous fortune; well, my dear friend, five hundred thousand francs a year would still be too little, and for this reason: a man with such an income has a large house, horses, servants, carriages; he shoots, has friends, often he is married, he has children, he races, gambles, travels, and what not. All these habits are so much a part of his position that he can not forego them without appearing to have lost all his money, and without causing scandal. Taking it all round, with five hundred thousand francs a year he can not give a woman more than forty or fifty thousand francs in the year, and that is already a good deal. Well, other lovers make up for the rest of her expenses. With Marguerite, it is still more convenient; she has chanced by a miracle on an old man worth ten millions, whose wife and daughter are dead; who has only some nephews, themselves rich, and who gives her all she wants without asking anything in return. But she can not ask him for more than seventy thousand francs a year; and I am sure that if she did ask for more, despite his health and the affection he has for her he would not give it to her.
“All the young men of twenty or thirty thousand francs a year at Paris, that is to say, men who have only just enough to live on in the society in which they mix, know perfectly well, when they are the lovers of a woman like Marguerite, that she could not so much as pay for the rooms she lives in and the servants who wait upon her with what they give her. They do not say to her that they know it; they pretend not to see anything, and when they have had enough of it they go their way. If they have the vanity to wish to pay for everything they get ruined, like the fools they are, and go and get killed in Africa, after leaving a hundred thousand francs of debt in Paris. Do you think a woman is grateful to them for it? Far from it. She declares that she has sacrificed her position for them, and that while she was with them she was losing money. These details seem to you shocking? Well, they are true.
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