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Then a hall, which led to the study, where books and papers were piled on the shelves of a book-case that enclosed three quarters of the big black desk. Two panels were entirely hidden under pen-and-ink sketches, Gouache landscapes and Audran engravings, relics of better times and vanished luxury. On the second floor, a garret-window lighted Félicité's room, which looked out upon the meadows.
A crowd of people followed, jammed between the walls of the houses hung with white sheets; at last the procession arrived at the foot of the hill. A cold sweat broke out on Félicité's forehead. Mother Simon wiped it away with a cloth, saying inwardly that some day she would have to go through the same thing herself.
During this conversation, the marquis had whispered a few words in Felicite's ear with a knowing look. He complimented her, no doubt, on her theatrical display. The old woman could not repress a faint smile. But, as Sicardot shook hands with Rougon and prepared to go, she again asked him with an air of fright: "Are you really determined to leave us?"
Morin had done with Madame Tibault's money, he feared the tongue of slander would not be stilled. Sometimes in fact, very often in affairs of the kind there was er as the saying goes er a lady in the case. In absolute confidence, now if perhaps Sister Félicité's large eyes regarded him solemnly. "There was one woman," she said, slowly, "to whom he bowed to whom he gave his heart."
A crowd of people followed, jammed between the walls of the houses hung with white sheets; at last the procession arrived at the foot of the hill. A cold sweat broke out on Felicite's forehead. Mother Simon wiped it away with a cloth, saying inwardly that some day she would have to go through the same thing herself.
Her husband fell into the trap, and smiled with complacent superiority. "Patience," said he. And with an air of shrewdness he looked into his wife's eyes and added: "Would you be glad to be the wife of a receiver of taxes?" Felicite's face flushed with a joyous glow. She sat up in bed and clapped her old withered little hands like a child. "Really?" she stammered. "At Plassans?"
You must be gentle with her, my man." He stared. "Gentle? But she is a demon when she is angry. Tell me to be gentle with an enraged lioness." Félicité's smile was good to see. "She is not an enraged lioness, Victor. She is very unhappy, and we must help her." He went to the dressing-table and put down his brushes. "I am tired, wife," he said quietly; "let us talk of something else.
The time for the altars in the street drew near. The first one was always erected at the foot of the hill, the second in front of the post-office, and the third in the middle of the street. This position occasioned some rivalry among the women and they finally decided upon Madame Aubain's yard. Félicité's fever grew worse. She was sorry that she could not do anything for the altar.
Could a person, in case of need, return by land? How far was it from Pont-l'Evêque? In order to learn these things she questioned Monsieur Bourais. He reached for his map and began some explanations concerning longitudes, and smiled with superiority at Félicité's bewilderment.
He took from Felicite's hair a pink satin bow, which she had placed over her right ear in honour of the occasion, cut off a strip of the satin with his dessert knife, and then solemnly fastened it to Rougon's button-hole. The latter feigned modesty, and pretended to resist. But his face beamed with joy, as he murmured: "No, I beg you, it is too soon. We must wait until the decree is published."
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