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Updated: August 24, 2024
As he walked along he recapitulated what he knew of the woman. She was married, blonde, in easy circumstances because she had her own sleeping quarters and a maid. She lived in the neighbourhood, because she went to the rue Littré post-office for her mail. Her name, supposing she had prefixed her own initial to the name of Maubel, was Henriette, Hortense, Honorine, Hubertine, or Hélène. What else?
It is simply that I am tired of having that young man here. I do not wish to see him again." Then Hubertine added: "Very well; you will not see him again. But nothing should ever prevent one from being polite." Angelique, making some trivial excuse, hurried up to her room as quickly as possible. Then she gave free course to her tears. Ah, how intensely happy she was, yet how she suffered!
The cold, hard mother was deaf to all their entreaties, and left them under the inexorable punishment of the death of their firstborn, whom she had taken and carried away, and whom she refused to restore to them. "I prayed there for a long time," repeated Hubertine. "I listened eagerly to know if there would not be some slight movement." Hubert questioned her with an anxious look.
Moreover, no allusion was made to the past; she no longer looked from time to time out of the window into the garden, and gradually losing her paleness, the natural colour came back to her cheeks. The sacrifice appeared to have been accomplished. Hubert himself thought it was so, and, convinced of the wisdom of Hubertine, did all in his power to keep Felicien at a distance.
And there, near the Cathedral, Angelique saw Hubertine, who waited for her in the night, seated upon the stone bench, which was surrounded by a small cluster of lilac-bushes. Awakened, warned by some inexpressible feeling, she had gone upstairs, then down again, and on finding all the doors open, that of the chamber as well as that of the house, she had understood what had happened.
"You could not do any more than you have done were it your wedding-day, my dear. Is it, then, that you are really to be married now?" "But yes! oh, yes! Why not?" she answered gaily. Hubertine smiled in her turn. "While waiting, my daughter, since the house is so satisfactorily arranged, the best thing for us to do is to go upstairs and dress." "In a minute, mother. Look at my full basket."
So at last they came back to the point from which they started, lifting up their heads as if they breathed more freely from the heights of the nave, which the growing shades at night drove farther away, and enlarged the old walls, on which were faint remains of paintings and of gold. "I know perfectly well that we are altogether too early," said Hubertine.
"But do you not like the work which you do so well?" "I? I do not like anything in the world." Hubertine was obliged to speak to her sternly, and tell her to be quiet. She then begged Felicien to be so good as to pardon her nervous child, who was a little weary from her long-continued application. She added that the mitre would be at his disposal at an early hour on the following morning.
And their decision was soon made. "Would you like it, my dear?" Hubert asked. Hubertine replied quietly, in her calm voice: "I would indeed." Immediately they occupied themselves with the necessary formalities.
It must be a customer; no doubt an order for some article, as Hubertine and Angelique heard the hum of voices which came through the doorway at the head of the stairs, which remained open. Then they looked up in great astonishment; for steps were mounting, and the embroiderer was bringing someone with him to the workroom, a most unusual occurrence.
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