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When he returned the servant said to him: "Monsieur has asked for you two or three times. Will you go upstairs?" He ascended the stairs. Forestier appeared to be in a chair; his wife, reclining upon a couch, was reading. The invalid raised his head. Duroy asked: "Well, how are you? You look better this morning." Forestier murmured: "Yes, I am better and stronger.
Duroy tried to appear self-possessed, but he was haunted continually by the fear of showing his feelings or of losing his self-possession. Rival addressed him, saying: "I took the pistols to Gastine Renette. He loaded them. The box is sealed." Duroy replied mechanically: "Thank you." Then Rival proceeded to give him minute directions, that he might make no mistakes.
He returned home saying to himself: "Very well, I will write it alone and they shall see." Scarcely had he entered than he began to write, anger spurring him on. In an hour he had finished an article, which was a chaos of absurd matter, and took it boldly to the office. Duroy handed Forestier his manuscript. "Here is the rest of Algeria." "Very well, I will hand it to the manager. That will do."
She smiled with amiable indifference as she replied: "M. Walter had a great deal of trouble in producing the kind of journal which was required." They talked of Paris, the suburbs, the Seine, the delights of summer, of everything they could think of. Finally M. Norbert de Varenne advanced, a glass of liqueur in his hand, and Duroy discreetly withdrew.
Rival said: "Dr. Le Brument." Duroy shook hands with him and stammered: "Thank you," as he entered the carriage. Jacques Rival and Boisrenard followed him, and the coachman drove off. He knew where to go. The conversation flagged, although the doctor related a number of anecdotes. Rival alone replied to him.
Then she added with an air of conviction: "You will see how easily it will be accepted by everyone! After to-morrow, sign your articles 'D. de Cantel, and your 'Echoes' simply 'Duroy. That is done on the press every day and no one will be surprised to see you take a nom de plume. What is your father's name?" "Alexandre."
He paused, and Duroy said with a smile: "You are gloomy to-night, sir!" The poet replied: "I always am, my child; you will be too in a few years. While one is climbing the ladder, one sees the top and feels hopeful; but when one has reached that summit, one sees the descent and the end which is death. It is slow work ascending, but one descends rapidly.
Norbert de Varenne and Jacques Rival came together. A door opened at the end of the room, and M. Walter entered with two tall young girls of sixteen and seventeen; one plain, the other pretty. Duroy knew that the manager was a paterfamilias, but he was astonished. He had thought of the manager's daughters as one thinks of a distant country one will never see.
The cabman asked: "Where shall I drive to?" Duroy replied: "Where you will!" Clotilde sobbed hysterically. Duroy did not know what to say or do. At length he stammered: "Listen Clo my dearest Clo, let me explain. It is not my fault. I knew that woman long ago " She raised her head and with the fury of a betrayed woman, she cried disconnectedly: "Ah, you miserable fellow what a rascal you are!
As the train glided along, Duroy seated in front of his wife, took her hand, kissed it, and said: "When we return we will dine at Chatou sometimes." She murmured: "We shall have a great many things to do!" in a tone which seemed to say: "We must sacrifice pleasure to duty." He retained her hand wondering anxiously how he could manage to caress her.
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