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The behavior of Dumay made the whole scene terrifying to Butscha, to the Latournelles, and above all to Madame Dumay, who knew her husband to be capable of firing a pistol at Modeste's lover as coolly as though he were a mad dog.
When, early in the month of December, Madame de La Bastie, operated upon by Desplein, recovered her sight and saw Ernest de La Briere for the first time, she pressed Modeste's hand and whispered in her ear, "I should have chosen him myself."
She had seen him in one moment turn against herself. No! no one was left her!.... If she could only lay her head in Modeste's lap and be soothed while she crooned her old songs as in the nursery! But, whatever Marien or any one else might choose to say, she was no longer a baby. The bitter sense of her isolation arose in her. She could hardly breathe.
"But how came the idea of that unworthy masquerade ever to arise?" she said, with a sort of impatience. La Briere related truthfully the scene in the poet's study which Modeste's first letter had occasioned, and the sort of challenge that resulted from his expressing a favorable opinion of a young girl thus led toward a poet's fame, as a plant seeks its share of the sun.
"Is it from an unknown woman?" "Unknown? yes! a D'Este, in Havre; evidently a feigned name." Canalis passed the letter to La Briere. The little poem, with all its hidden enthusiasms, in short, poor Modeste's heart, was disdainfully handed over, with the gesture of a spoiled dandy.
Modeste took note of the strained efforts of the man of real talent, seeking some witticism that should raise a laugh, some clever speech, some compliment with which to flatter these grand personages, whom it was his interest to please. In a word, to Modeste's eyes the peacock plucked out his tail-feathers.
The pure, fresh voice, with accents like that of Mademoiselle Mars, charmed the poor secretary, already dazzled by Modeste's beauty, and in his sudden surprise he answered by a phrase that would have been sublime, had it been true. "He is my friend," he said. "Ah, then you do pardon me," she replied.
Truce was tacitly established between father, mother, and child as to the so-called mysterious love which had paled Modeste's cheeks, for this was the first day she had left her bed since Dumay's departure for Paris.
Canalis, who had been busy during the last three months with serious matters of his own, and was trying to get himself made commander of the Legion of honor and minister to a German court, had completely forgotten Modeste's letter." "I!" he exclaimed. "You!" repeated Dumay. "Monsieur," answered Canalis, smiling; "I know no more of what you are talking about than if you had said it in Hebrew.
This is indeed punishment too much punishment for me!" So saying, she ran down the many stairs that led up to Modeste's little lodging in the roof, her feet hardly touching them as she ran, while Modeste followed her more slowly, crying: "Wait for me! Wait for me, Mademoiselle!"
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