French fiction -- Translations into English; Paris (France) -- Fiction
It was he who three weeks before, in the name of Panine, had made
overtures to Madame Desvarennes. The errand had been difficult, and the
banker had turned his tongue several times in his mouth before speaking.
Still, Cayrol could overcome all difficulties. He was able to explain the
object of his mission without Madame flying into a passion. But, the
explanation over, there was a terrible scene. He witnessed one of the
most awful bursts of rage that it was possible to expect from a violent
woman. The mistress treated the friend of the family as one would not
have dared to treat a petty commercial traveller who came to a private
house to offer his wares. She showed him the door, and desired him not
to darken the threshold again.
But if Cayrol was resolute he was equally patient. He listened without
saying a word to the reproaches of Madame Desvarennes, who was
exasperated that a candidate should be set up in opposition to the son-
in-law of her choosing. He did not go, and when Madame Desvarennes was a
little calmed by the letting out of her indignation, he argued with her.
The mistress was too hasty about the business; it was no use deciding
without reflecting. Certainly, nobody esteemed Pierre Delarue more than
he did; but it was necessary to know whether Micheline loved him. A
childish affection was not love, and Prince Panine thought he might hope
that Mademoiselle Desvarennes----
The mistress did not allow Cayrol to finish his sentence; she rang the
bell and asked for her daughter. This time, Cayrol prudently took the
opportunity of disappearing. He had opened fire; it was for Micheline to
decide the result of the battle. The banker awaited the issue of the
interview between mother and daughter in the next room. Through the door
he heard the irritated tones of Madame Desvarennes, to which Micheline
answered softly and slowly. The mother threatened and stormed. Coldly
and quietly the daughter received the attack. The tussle lasted about an
hour, when the door reopened and Madame Desvarennes appeared, pale and
still trembling, but calmed. Micheline, wiping her beautiful eyes, still
wet with tears, regained her apartment.
"Well," said Cayrol timidly, seeing the mistress standing silent and
absorbed before him; "I see with pleasure that you are less agitated.
Did Mademoiselle Micheline give you good reasons?"
"Good reasons!" cried Madame Desvarennes with a violent gesture, last
flash of the late storm. "She cried, that's all. And you know when she
cries I no longer know what I do or say! She breaks my heart with her
tears. And she knows it. Ah! it is a great misfortune to love children
too much!"
This energetic woman was conquered, and yet understood that she was wrong
to allow herself to be conquered. She fell into a deep reverie, and
forgot that Cayrol was present. She thought of the future which she had
planned for Micheline, and which the latter carelessly destroyed in an
instant.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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