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Updated: May 14, 2025
He sought for imperfections, and finding none, was almost terrified by this lovely, motionless face, these clear, cold eyes. Little by little, however, he accustomed himself to pass the greater part of the afternoon with Bertha, while Sauvresy was away arranging his affairs selling, negotiating, using his time in cutting down interests and discussing with agents and attorneys.
Delirium had completely disappeared, and the sick man retained perfectly the clearness of his mind. Sauvresy bore up wonderfully under his pains, and seemed to take a new interest in the business of his estates. He was constantly in consultation with bailiffs and agents, and shut himself up for days together with notaries and attorneys.
"She had gone to secrete the manuscript in some safe place; and when her new husband asked her to give it up to him, she replied, 'Look for it." "Sauvresy had enjoined on me to give it only into her hands." "Oh, he knew how to work his revenge. He had it given to his wife so that she might hold a terrible arm against Tremorel, all ready to crush him.
"Ah, my friend," cried he, "you give me my honor, after saving my life! How can I ever repay you?" "By committing no imprudences or foolishnesses, except reasonable ones. Such as this," added Sauvresy, leaning toward Bertha and embracing her. "And there is nothing more to fear?" "Nothing! Why I could have borrowed the two millions in an hour, and they knew it. But that's not all.
She knew how to show to her husband, in place of the love she did not feel, the appearance of a passion at once burning and modest, betraying furtive glances and a flush as of pleasure, when he entered the room. All the world said: "Bertha is foolishly fond of her husband." Sauvresy was sure of it, and he was the first to say, not caring to conceal his joy: "My wife adores me."
"Let me speak," she continued, "and explain yourself afterward. You have broken your word you are deceiving my confidence! But I tell you, you shall not marry her!" Then, without awaiting his reply, she overwhelmed him with reproaches. Why had he come here at all? She was happy in her home before she knew him. She did not love Sauvresy, it was true; but she esteemed him, and he was good to her.
Every time that Sauvresy had a moment of reason, the scene at the window recurred to him, and drove him to madness again. On that terrible night when he had gone out into the snow, he had not been mistaken; Bertha was really begging something of Hector. This was it: M. Courtois, the mayor, had invited Hector to accompany himself and his family on an excursion to Fontainebleau on the following day.
A man, however, never permits an opinion deliberately and carefully formed to be refuted by one whom he looks on as an inferior, without a secret chagrin. But in this case the evidence was too abundant, and too positive to be resisted. "I am convinced," said he, "that a crime was committed on Monsieur Sauvresy with the dearly paid assistance of this Robelot.
I burnt up all my papers yesterday." Sauvresy jumped up from his chair in astonishment; such a method of doing business seemed to him monstrous; he could not suppose that Hector was lying. Yet he was lying, and this affectation of ignorance was a conceit of the aristocratic man of the world. It was very noble, very distingue, to ruin one's self without knowing how!
Hector and Bertha looked at Sauvresy with a dull, fixed gaze. They forced themselves to understand him, but could scarcely do so. "Let's finish," resumed the dying man, "my strength is waning.
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