Several of them had been already paid, but their receipts could not be found, and they were clamorous.Others, whose demands had been refused as exorbitant, threatened to go to law, hoping to frighten Sauvresy into paying.Sauvresy wearied his friend by his incessant activity.Every two or three days he went to Paris, and he attended the sales of the property in Burgundy and Orleans.The count at last detested and hated him; Sauvresy's happy, cheerful air annoyed him; jealousy stung him.One thought - that a wretched one -consoled him a little." Sauvresy's happiness," said he to himself, "is owing to his imbecility.He thinks his wife dead in love with him, whereas she can't bear him."Bertha had, indeed, permitted Hector to perceive her aversion to her husband.She no longer studied the emotions of her heart; she loved Tremorel, and confessed it to herself.In her eyes he realized the ideal of her dreams.At the same time she was exasperated to see in him no signs of love for her.Her beauty was not, then, irresistible, as she had often been told.He was gallant and courteous to her - nothing more.
"If he loved me," thought she, "he would tell me so, for he is bold with women and fears no one."Then she began to hate the girl, her rival, whom Hector went to meet at Corbeil every week.She wished to see her, to know her.
Who could she be? Was she handsome? Hector had been very reticent about Jenny.He evaded all questions about her, not sorry to let Bertha's imagination work on his mysterious visits.
The day at last came when she could no longer resist the intensity of her curiosity.She put on the ******st of her toilets, in black, threw a thick veil over her head, and hastened to the Corbeil station at the hour that she thought the unknown girl would present herself there.She took a seat on a bench in the rear of the waiting-room.
She had not long to wait.She soon perceived the count and a young girl coming along the avenue, which she could see from where she sat.
They were arm in arm, and seemed to be in a very happy mood.They passed within a few steps of her, and as they walked very slowly, she was able to scrutinize Jenny at her ease.She saw that she was pretty, but that was all.Having seen that which she wished, and become satisfied that Jenny was not to be feared (which showed her inexperience) Bertha directed her steps homeward.But she chose her time of departure awkwardly; for as she was passing along behind the cabs, which concealed her, Hector came out of the station.They crossed each other's paths at the gate, and their eyes met.Did he recognize her? His face expressed great surprise, yet he did not bow to her."Yes, be recognized me," thought Bertha, as she returned home by the river-road; and surprised, almost terrified by her boldness, she asked herself whether she ought to rejoice or mourn over this meeting.What would be its result? Hector cautiously followed her at a little distance.He was greatly astonished.His vanity, always on the watch, had already apprised him of what was passing in Bertha's heart, but, though modesty was no fault of his, he was far from guessing that she was so much enamoured of him as to take such a step.
"She loves me'!" he repeated to himself, as he went along."She loves me!"He did not yet know what to do.Should he fly? Should he still appear the same in his conduct toward her, pretending not to have seen her? He ought to fly that very evening, without hesitation, without turning his head; to fly as if the house were about to tumble about his head.This was his first thought.It was quickly stifled under the explosion of the base passions which fermented in him.Ah, Sauvresy had saved him when he was dying! Sauvresy, after saving him, had welcomed him, opened to him his heart, purse, house;at this very moment he was ****** untiring efforts to restore his fortunes.Men like Tremorel can only receive such services as outrages.Had not his sojourn at Valfeuillu been a continual suffering? Was not his self-conceit tortured from morning till night? He might count the days by their humiliations.What! Must he always submit to - if he was not grateful for - the superiority of a man whom he had always been wont to treat as his inferior?
"Besides," thought he, judging his friend by himself, "he only acts thus from pride and ostentation.What am I at his house, but a living witness of his generosity and devotion? He seems to live for me - it's Tremorel here and Tremorel there! He triumphs over my misfortunes, and makes his conduct a glory and title to the public admiration."He could not forgive his friend for being so rich, so happy, so highly respected, for having known how to regulate his life, while he had exhausted his own fortune at thirty.And should he not seize so good an opportunity to avenge himself for the favors which overwhelmed him?
