"Of what use are my strength and my common sense," she said, "when my
heart rushes outside of me thus, to grasp an affection which eludes me?
Upon my word, it is only the indifference with which I am regarded which
preserves me, and yet the shame of that thought does not cure me. Am I
guided by a spirit of contradiction? It seemed to me at first that any
advance on that young man's part would have disgusted me and that I
should have repelled him proudly; and lo and behold! his resignation
irritates me, his silence distresses me, and I am angry with him for
thinking no more of me! Evidently my mind is badly diseased."
One day when she was at her perfumer's, she met Julien going out. He had
no right to bow to her in public, and he pretended not to see her. She
found on the counter a very pretty fan which he had painted for his
mother, and had just brought to the shop to be made up. She imagined
that it was intended for her, and made up her mind to refuse it;
however, she awaited the little gift with intense impatience.
"He will send it to me mysteriously," she thought; "it will be an
anonymous offering, and in that case----"
But the gift did not arrive; so it was not for her after all. What folly
to think that he intended it for her! Julien was in love with some other
woman--some petty bourgeoise or some society woman of easy
morals--perhaps an actress! She did not sleep for two nights; then she
happened to see the fan in Madame Thierry's hand, and she breathed
again.
In spite of her determination, she could not avoid speaking of Julien to
his mother, and she resorted to every sort of detour to bring him into
the conversation. She wished to know about the sort of life led by a
young painter, of which she had no idea; and, although she dreaded to
learn some unpleasant or painful details, she continued to ask
questions, at first concerning the tastes and habits of artists, in
general; then of a sudden she asked:
"Your son, for example; did he not lead a brilliant, dissipated, or at
least an enjoyable life before the death of his father and your
subsequent troubles?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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