sighs the poor woman, moved by the sound of her own lament; and while
the notes fly away through the courtyard of the mansion, tranquil as
usual, where the fountain is playing in the midst of a clump of
rhododendrons, the singer interrupts herself, her hands prolonging the
chord, her eyes fixed on the music, but her glance far, far away. The
doctor is absent. The interests of his business and his health have
banished him from Paris for a few days, and, as frequently happens in
solitude, the fair Madame Jenkins' thoughts have assumed that serious
cast, that analytical tendency which sometimes makes a brief separation
fatal to the most united households. United they had not been for a long
time. They met only at table, before the servants, hardly spoke to each
other, unless he, the man of oleaginous manners, chose to indulge in
some brutal, uncivil remark concerning her son, her years which were
beginning to tell upon her at last, or a dress which was not becoming to
her. Always gentle and serene, she forced back her tears, submitted to
everything, pretended not to understand; not that she loved him still,
after so much cruel and contemptuous treatment, but it was the old
story, as Joe the coachman said, of "an old incubus who wants to be
married." Heretofore a terrible obstacle, the life of the legitimate
spouse, had prolonged a shameful situation. Now that the obstacle no
longer existed, she wanted to put an end to the comedy, because of
Andre, who might any day be forced to despise his mother, because of the
world which they had been deceiving for ten years, so that she never
went into society without a sinking at the heart, dreading the welcome
that would be accorded her on the morrow of a disclosure. To her hints,
her entreaties, Jenkins had replied at first with vague phrases, with
grandiloquent gestures: "Do you doubt me? Isn't our engagement sacred?"
FOOTNOTES:
[7] "How swift flies the hour
We pass in love's pleasures!
'Tis less than a moment,
Scarce more than a dream."
[8] "Time tears from our grasp
Our blissful enchantment."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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