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Updated: May 14, 2025
She leaned over, and whispered tremblingly in his ear: "I am Clement's sole heiress; perhaps he'll die; I might be a widow to-morrow." Hector was petrified. "But Sauvresy, thank God! is getting well fast." Bertha fixed her large, clear eyes upon him, and with frightful calmness said: "What do you know about it?" Tremorel dared not ask what these strange words meant.
"He's a big child," said he, "a foolish fellow, whose brain is weak but we'll take care of him and cure him." Bertha never listened to her husband so attentively before. She seemed to agree with him, but she really admired Tremorel. Like Jenny, she was struck with the heroism which could squander a fortune and then commit suicide. "Ah!" sighed she, "Sauvresy would not have done it!"
The servants retired, grieved at this distressing scene, and Bertha muttered: "Oh, 'tis infamous, 'tis horrible!" "Infamous yes," returned Sauvresy, "but not more so than your caresses, Bertha, or than your hand-pressures, Hector; not more horrible than your plans, than your hopes " His voice sank into a rattle. Soon the agony commenced.
The count told half a truth when he spoke to Jenny of his marriage. Sauvresy and he had discussed the subject, and if the matter was not as ripe as he had represented, there was at least some prospect of such an event. Sauvresy had proposed it in his anxiety to complete his work of restoring Hector to fortune and society.
This anxiety prevented his making the slightest movement, and he opened his eyes softly and cautiously. It was eleven at night, and all the servants had gone to bed. Hector and Bertha alone were keeping watch; he was reading a paper, she was crocheting. Sauvresy saw by their placid countenances that he had betrayed nothing. He moved slightly; Bertha at once arose and came to him.
The shadow of a man of Hector rested on the muslin curtains; the shape was distinct. He was near the window, and his forehead was pressed against the panes. Sauvresy instinctively stopped to look at his friend, who was so at home in his house, and who, in exchange for the most brotherly hospitality, had brought dishonor, despair and death.
Hector was obstinate, and Bertha was roused little by little; she must be angry. She recoiled, holding out her arms, her head thrown back; she was threatening him. At last he was conquered; he nodded, "Yes." Then she flung herself upon him, and the two shadows were confounded in a long embrace. Sauvresy could not repress an agonized cry, which was lost amid the noises of the night.
The first hours of their mutual understanding were spent in angry words, rather than the cooings of love. They perceived too clearly the disgrace of their conduct not to try to reassure each other against their remorse. They tried to prove to each other that Sauvresy was ridiculous and odious; as if they were absolved by his deficiencies, if deficiencies he had.
Jenny was one of those women who do not reason, but who feel; with whom it is folly to argue, for their fixed idea is impregnable to the most victorious arguments. Sauvresy asked himself why she had asked him to come, and said to himself that the part he had intended to play would be a difficult one. But he was patient.
Sauvresy, turning his back to the house, opened it and read: "SIR You will do a great favor to a poor and unhappy girl, if you will come to-morrow to the Belle Image, at Corbeil, where you will be awaited all day. "Your humble servant, "JENNY F ." There was also a postscript. "Please, sir, don't say a word of this to the Count de Tremorel."
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