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On two or three occasions his friends had obtained for him a chance to earn his living as manager of a club or a cafe as an inspector in great warehouses, at the 'Phares de la Bastille' or the 'Colosse de Rhodes. All that was necessary was to have good manners. Delobelle was not lacking in that respect, God knows!
A childlike shyness, and the Germanisms of speech which he never had laid aside in his life of absorbing toil, embarrassed him much in giving expression to his ideas. Moreover, his friends overawed him. They had in respect to him the tremendous superiority of the man who does nothing over the man who works; and M. Chebe, less generous than Delobelle, did not hesitate to make him feel it.
When he had composed his prospectus and made his estimates, he went to the factory to see Risler, who, being very busy, made an appointment to meet him in the Rue Blondel; and that same evening, Delobelle, being the first to arrive at the brewery, established himself at their old table, ordered a pitcher of beer and two glasses, and waited.
It was a memorable evening. In Madame Chebe's bedroom, littered with pieces of cloth and pins and small toilet articles, Desiree Delobelle superintended Sidonie's toilet. The child, appearing taller because of her short skirt of red flannel with black stripes, stood before the mirror, erect and motionless, in the glittering splendor of her costume. She was charming.
Desiree would have liked to be strong enough to rise and kiss that lovely, placid brow, furrowed by wrinkles which did not mar its beauty. In striking contrast to that picture, the illustrious Delobelle appeared to his daughter through the open door in one of his favorite attitudes.
Desiree would have liked to be strong enough to rise and kiss that lovely, placid brow, furrowed by wrinkles which did not mar its beauty. In striking contrast to that picture, the illustrious Delobelle appeared to his daughter through the open door in one of his favorite attitudes.
During the whole evening they had done nothing but talk of Frantz, of his success, of the future that lay before him. "Now," said Mamma Delobelle, "the only thing he needs is to find a good little wife." That was Desiree's opinion, too. That was all that was lacking now to Frantz's happiness, a good little wife, active and brave and accustomed to work, who would forget everything for him.
"Do not be alarmed, it is nothing," she tried to say, then sank to the floor. Mamma Delobelle would never have believed that she was so strong. To lift her daughter, take her into the room, and put her to bed was a matter of a moment; and she talked to her and kissed her. "Here you are at last. Where have you come from, you bad child? Tell me, is it true that you tried to kill yourself?
While the financier enthusiastically pulled up the collar of his invisible shirt, while the comique exclaimed "gnouf! gnouf!" with a gesture forgotten by Parisians for ten years, Desiree thought with dismay of the enormous hole that impromptu banquet would make in the paltry earnings of the week, and Mamma Delobelle, full of business, upset the whole buffet in order to find a sufficient number of plates.
Why did she seek to destroy herself? Come, woman Delobelle, answer, why was it? But the woman Delobelle obstinately declined to answer. It seemed to her that it would put a stigma upon her love to avow it in such a place. "I don't know I don't know," she whispered, shivering.
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