A Meeting
It was nothing but an accident, an accident pure and simple. On thatparticular evening the princess' rooms were open, and as they appeareddark after the brilliantly lighted parlors, Baron d'Etraille, who wastired of standing, inadvertently wandered into an empty bedroom.He looked round for a chair in which to have a doze, as he was sure hiswife would not leave before daylight. As soon as he became accustomed tothe light of the room he distinguished the big bed with its azure-and-gold hangings, in the middle of the great room, looking like a catafalquein which love was buried, for the princess was no longer young. Behindit, a large bright surface looked like a lake seen at a distance. It wasa large mirror, discreetly covered with dark drapery, that was veryrarely let down, and seemed to look at the bed, which was its accomplice.One might almost fancy that it had reminiscences, and that one might seein it charming female forms and the gentle movement of loving arms.The baron stood still for a moment, smiling, almost experiencing anemotion on the threshold of this chamber dedicated to love. But suddenlysomething appeared in the looking-glass, as if the phantoms which he hadevoked had risen up before him. A man and a woman who had been sittingon a low couch concealed in the shadow had arisen, and the polishedsurface, reflecting their figures, showed that they were kissing eachother before separating.Baron d'Etraille recognized his wife and the Marquis de Cervigne. Heturned and went away like a man who is fully master of himself, andwaited till it was day before taking away the baroness; but he had nolonger any thoughts of sleeping.As soon as they were alone he said:"Madame, I saw you just now in Princesse de Raynes' room; I need say nomore, and I am not fond either of reproaches, acts of violence, or ofridicule. As I wish to avoid all such things, we shall separate withoutany scandal. Our lawyers will settle your position according to myorders. You will be free to live as you please when you are no longerunder my roof; but, as you will continue to bear my name, I must warn youthat should any scandal arise I shall show myself inflexible."She tried to speak, but he stopped her, bowed, and left the room.He was more astonished and sad than unhappy. He had loved her dearlyduring the first period of their married life; but his ardor had cooled,and now he often amused himself elsewhere, either in a theatre or insociety, though he always preserved a certain liking for the baroness.She was very young, hardly four-and-twenty, small, slight--too slight--and very fair. She was a true Parisian doll: clever, spoiled, elegant,coquettish, witty, with more charm than real beauty. He used to sayfamiliarly to his brother, when speaking of her:"My wife is charming, attractive, but--there is nothing to lay hold of.She is like a glass of champagne that is all froth; when you get to thewine it is very good, but there is too little of it, unfortunately."He walked up and down the room in great agitation, thinking of a thousandthings. At one moment he was furious, and felt inclined to give themarquis a good thrashing, or to slap his face publicly, in the club.But he decided that would not do, it would not be good form; he would belaughed at, and not his rival, and this thought wounded his vanity.So he went to bed, but could not sleep. Paris knew in a few days thatthe Baron and Baroness d'Etraille had agreed to an amicable separation onaccount of incompatibility of temper. No one suspected anything, no onelaughed, and no one was astonished.The baron, however, to avoid meeting his wife, travelled for a year, thenspent the summer at the seaside, and the autumn in shooting, returning toParis for the winter. He did not meet the baroness once.He did not even know what people said about her. In any case, she tookcare to respect appearances, and that was all he asked for.He became dreadfully bored, travelled again, restored his old castle ofVillebosc, which took him two years; then for over a year he entertainedfriends there, till at last, tired of all these so-called pleasures, hereturned to his mansion in the Rue de Lille, just six years after theseparation.He was now forty-five, with a good crop of gray hair, rather stout, andwith that melancholy look characteristic of those who have been handsome,sought after, and liked, but who are deteriorating, daily.A month after his return to Paris, he took cold on coming out of hisclub, and had such a bad cough that his medical man ordered him to Nicefor the rest of the winter.He reached the station only a few minutes before the departure of thetrain on Monday evening, and had barely time to get into a carriage, withonly one other occupant, who was sitting in a corner so wrapped in fursand cloaks that he could not even make out whether it was a man or awoman, as nothing of the figure could be seen. When he perceived that hecould not find out, he put on his travelling cap, rolled himself up inhis rugs, and stretched out comfortably to sleep.He did not wake until the day was breaking, and looked at once at hisfellow-traveller, who had not stirred all night, and seemed still to besound asleep.M. d'Etraille made use of the opportunity to brush his hair and hisbeard, and to try to freshen himself up a little generally, for a night'stravel does not improve one's appearance when one has attained a certainage.A great poet has said:"When we are young, our mornings are triumphant!"Then we wake up with a cool skin, a bright eye, and glossy hair.As one grows older one wakes up in a very different condition. Dulleyes, red, swollen cheeks, dry lips, hair and beard disarranged, impartan old, fatigued, worn-out look to the face.The baron opened his travelling case, and improved his looks as much aspossible.The engine whistled, the train stopped, and his neighbor moved. No doubthe was awake. They started off again, and then a slanting ray ofsunlight shone into the carriage and on the sleeper, who moved again,shook himself, and then his face could be seen.It was a young, fair, pretty, plump woman, and the baron looked at her inamazement. He did not know what to think. He could really have swornthat it was his wife, but wonderfully changed for the better: stouter--why she had grown as stout as he was, only it suited her much better thanit did him.She looked at him calmly, did not seem to recognize him, and then slowlylaid aside her wraps. She had that quiet assurance of a woman who issure of herself, who feels that on awaking she is in her full beauty andfreshness.The baron was really bewildered. Was it his wife, or else as like her asany sister could be? Not having seen her for six years, he might bemistaken.She yawned, and this gesture betrayed her. She turned and looked at himagain, calmly, indifferently, as if she scarcely saw him, and then lookedout of the window again.He was upset and dreadfully perplexed, and kept looking at her sideways.Yes; it was surely his wife. How could he possibly have doubted it?There could certainly not be two noses like that, and a thousandrecollections flashed through his mind. He felt the old feeling of theintoxication of love stealing over him, and he called to mind the sweetodor of her skin, her smile when she put her arms on to his shoulders,the soft intonations of her voice, all her graceful, coaxing ways.But how she had changed and improved! It was she and yet not she. Sheseemed riper, more developed, more of a woman, more seductive, moredesirable, adorably desirable.And this strange, unknown woman, whom he had accidentally met in arailway carriage, belonged to him; he had only to say to her:"I insist upon it."He had formerly slept in her arms, existed only in her love, and now hehad found her again certainly, but so changed that he scarcely knew her.It was another, and yet it was she herself. It was some one who had beenborn and had formed and grown since he had left her. It was she, indeed;she whom he had loved, but who was now altered, with a more assured smileand greater self-possession. There were two women in one, mingling agreat part of what was new and unknown with many sweet recollections ofthe past. There was something singular, disturbing, exciting about it--a kind of mystery of love in which there floated a delicious confusion.It was his wife in a new body and in new flesh which lips had neverpressed.And he thought that in a few years nearly every thing changes in us; onlythe outline can be recognized, and sometimes even that disappears.The blood, the hair, the skin, all changes and is renewed, and whenpeople have not seen each other for a long time, when they meet they findeach other totally different beings, although they are the same and bearthe same name.And the heart also can change. Ideas may be modified and renewed, sothat in forty years of life we may, by gradual and constanttransformations, become four or five totally new and different beings.He dwelt on this thought till it troubled him; it had first takenpossession of him when he surprised her in the princess' room. He wasnot the least angry; it was not the same woman that he was looking at--that thin, excitable little doll of those days.What was he to do? How should he address her? and what could he say toher? Had she recognized him?The train stopped again. He got up, bowed, and ,said: "Bertha, do youwant anything I could bring you?"She looked at him from head to foot, and answered, without showing theslightest surprise, or confusion, or anger, but with the most perfectindifference:"I do not want anything---thank you."He got out and walked up and down the platform a little in order torecover himself, and, as it were, to recover his senses after a fall.What should he do now? If he got into another carriage it would look asif he were running away. Should he be polite or importunate? That wouldlook as if he were asking for forgiveness. Should he speak as if he wereher master? He would look like a fool, and, besides, he really had noright to do so.He got in again and took his place.During his absence she had hastily arranged her dress and hair, and wasnow lying stretched out on the seat, radiant, and without showing anyemotion.He turned to her, and said: "My dear Bertha, since this singular chancehas brought up together after a separation of six years--a quite friendlyseparation--are we to continue to look upon each other as irreconcilableenemies? We are shut up together, tete-d-tete, which is so much thebetter or so much the worse. I am not going to get into anothercarriage, so don't you think it is preferable to talk as friends till theend of our journey?"She answered, quite calmly again:"Just as you please."Then he suddenly stopped, really not knowing what to say; but as he hadplenty of assurance, he sat down on the middle seat, and said:"Well, I see I must pay my court to you; so much the better. It is,however, really a pleasure, for you are charming. You cannot imagine howyou have improved in the last six years. I do not know any woman whocould give me that delightful sensation which I experienced just now whenyou emerged from your wraps. I really could not have thought such achange possible."Without moving her head or looking at him, she said: "I cannot say thesame with regard to you; you have certainly deteriorated a great deal."He got red and confused, and then, with a smile of resignation, he said:"You are rather hard.""Why?" was her reply. "I am only stating facts. I don't suppose youintend to offer me your love? It must, therefore, be a matter of perfectindifference to you what I think about you. But I see it is a painfulsubject, so let us talk of something else. What have you been doingsince I last saw you?"He felt rather out of countenance, and stammered:"I? I have travelled, done some shooting, and grown old, as you see.And you?"She said, quite calmly: "I have taken care of appearances, as you orderedme."He was very nearly saying something brutal, but he checked himself; andkissed his wife's hand:"And I thank you," he said.She was surprised. He was indeed diplomatic, and always master ofhimself.He went on: "As you have acceded to my first request, shall we now talkwithout any bitterness?"She made a little movement of surprise."Bitterness? I don't feel any; you are a complete stranger to me; I amonly trying to keep up a difficult conversation."He was still looking at her, fascinated in spite of her harshness, and hefelt seized with a brutal Beside, the desire of the master.Perceiving that she had hurt his feelings, she said:"How old are you now? I thought you were younger than you look.""I am forty-five"; and then he added: "I forgot to ask after Princesse deRaynes. Are you still intimate with her?"She looked at him as if she hated him:"Yes, I certainly am. She is very well, thank you."They remained sitting side by side, agitated and irritated. Suddenly hesaid:"My dear Bertha, I have changed my mind. You are my wife, and I expectyou to come with me to-day. You have, I think, improved both morally andphysically, and I am going to take you back again. I am your husband,and it is my right to do so."She was stupefied, and looked at him, trying to divine his thoughts; buthis face was resolute and impenetrable."I am very sorry," she said, "but I have made other engagements.""So much the worse for you," was his reply. "The law gives me the power,and I mean to use it."They were nearing Marseilles, and the train whistled and slackened speed.The baroness rose, carefully rolled up her wraps, and then, turning toher husband, said:"My dear Raymond, do not make a bad use of this tete-a tete which I hadcarefully prepared. I wished to take precautions, according to youradvice, so that I might have nothing to fear from you or from otherpeople, whatever might happen. You are going to Nice, are you not?""I shall go wherever you go.""Not at all; just listen to me, and I am sure that you will leave me inpeace. In a few moments, when we get to the station, you will see thePrincesse de Raynes and Comtesse Henriot waiting for me with theirhusbands. I wished them to see as, and to know that we had spent thenight together in the railway carriage. Don't be alarmed; they will tellit everywhere as a most surprising fact."I told you just now that I had most carefully followed your advice andsaved appearances. Anything else does not matter, does it? Well, inorder to do so, I wished to be seen with you. You told me carefully toavoid any scandal, and I am avoiding it, for, I am afraid--I am afraid--"She waited till the train had quite stopped, and as her friends ran up toopen the carriage door, she said:"I am afraid"--hesitating--"that there is another reason--je suisenceinte."The princess stretched out her arms to embrace her,--and the baronesssaid, painting to the baron, who was dumb with astonishment, and wastrying to get at the truth:"You do not recognize Raymond? He has certainly changed a good deal, andhe agreed to come with me so that I might not travel alone. We takelittle trips like this occasionally, like good friends who cannot livetogether. We are going to separate here; he has had enough of mealready."She put out her hand, which he took mechanically, and then she jumped outon to the platform among her friends, who were waiting for her.The baron hastily shut the carriage door, for he was too much disturbedto say a word or come to any determination. He heard his wife's voiceand their merry laughter as they went away.He never saw her again, nor did he ever discover whether she had told hima lie or was speaking the truth.