“Oh, as for their poetry, telling what marvelous creatures they thought us, they were all over the place with it. That was trying enough in the daytime: but when it came to being waked up long before dawn, and prevented from getting a wink of beauty-sleep at night, by their aubades and serenas about how wonderful you were, I do assure you, it was really very tiresome—”
“I can see that.” Logic compelled the admission, however repulsive it was to find a woman blundering into logic. “But, still, madame—”
“Yes, you can see that, Florian, now, because you now comprehend you have been as foolishly exaggerative as any of them. Florian, you are a romantic: and from the first that has been the trouble, because it was that which made you fall in love with your notion of Melior. That was just what you did, without even having talked with me—”
“Parbleu, but certainly it was without having heard you talk—”
“And as far as it went, it was quite nice of you, Florian, for you appear even to have imperilled your soul—which, to be sure, must have been in a rather dangerous way already,—through your desire to have me for your wife. Nobody thinks of denying that was a very pretty compliment, but, if you ask me, it was a mistake—”
This seemed to Florian such a masterpiece in the art of understatement that he said almost sullenly, “We needs must love the highest—”
“Nonsense, Florian, I am far from being the highest. And so, let me tell you, is any other woman. After a month or two of sleeping with and mooning around me,—who, you must do me the justice to admit, never laughed at you once, though I do not deny that I was tempted, for, Florian, my dear, it seems only fair to tell you that at times you are simply—! But then, it is not as if other men were very different—”
“Let us,” said Florian,—who was reflecting that he had never really detested anybody before he met this woman,—“let us turn to more profitable topics than masculine romanticism—”
“So you made the appalling discovery that I did not belong upon a pedestal. That was inevitable, though I must say it was not as if I had endeavored to hide it from you. And you resented it fiercely. That too, I suppose, was only you romantic men all over, though it was just as foolish as the mooning. And from what I can gather, you appear to have been equally rash and—if you do not mind my saying so, dear,—equally inconsiderate, in your treatment of your other wives. Though, to be sure, whatever you could see in those women, even at the first—!”
“I am a Puysange. We are ardent—”
“In any event, it is not as if anything could be done about them now. So, really, Florian, taking one consideration with another, I do not see why, now that we have talked it over amicably, and you have more or less explained yourself,—and, I am willing to believe, are quite properly sorry,—we should not get on tolerably well. And about men I say nothing, because one does want to be kind, but I doubt if any woman anywhere really hopes for more than that when she marries.”
Melior had stopped talking. Now that fact alone had roused Florian to chill amazement. He said, “You plan, madame—?”
“Why, first of all, I plan for both of us to appeal, in a suitably religious and polite manner, to your patron saint. That is the plain duty of a Christian. For if this Janicot has any real claim upon the little darling, you surely must see how much nicer it would be, in every way, for Hoprig to be working miracles against him instead of smiting you with something unpleasant. And besides, I do not see how he can have any real claim—”
Florian resolutely thrust aside the suspicion that this obstinate and shiny and gross-minded woman was now planning, among other enormities, to return to living with him. He said only:
“I am astounded. I am grieved. You would have me meanly crawl out of my bargain by invoking the high powers of Heaven to help me in a swindle, very much as one hears of dishonest persons repudiating fair debts through the chicanery of a death-bed repentance. Pardieu, madame! since you suggest such infamies, and since you will not hear reason, I can but leave you, to defy this Hoprig to his ugly nose, and to perish, if necessary, upon his woodpile with untarnished faith.”
He turned sadly from this woman who appeared to have no sense of logic or honor, not even any elementary notion of fair-dealing. And as Florian turned, he saw the door open, and through the doorway came first an armful of faggots and behind it the flushed but still benevolent face of Hoprig.
27. The Forethought of Hoprig
“COME now,” said St. Hoprig, as he laid down the wood, “but here is that abominable ward of mine! and upon the point of defying me too!” Whereon he shook hands cordially with Florian. “Ah, but, monsieur,” said Florian, “be logical! We meet as enemies.”
“Frequently,” observed the saint, “that is the speediest way of reaching a thorough understanding. I suppose that you have come about your foolish bargain with Janicot.”
“Upon my word,” replied Florian, “but all my business affairs appear to be well known to everybody upon Morven!”
The saint had turned to Melior, with a wise nod. “So, you perceive, madame, our precautions were justified. Now, my dear son, do not worry any more about your contract with the powers of evil, but off with your things, and have some supper with us. For I have excellent news for you. You were to sacrifice to Janicot the first child that you and Madame Melior might have, and she was then to vanish. Your bargain is void, or, rather, the terms have not yet been fulfilled.”
Florian looked forlornly at his wife, then toward the cradle, and he said, “I fail to perceive the omission, Monsieur Hoprig.”
“Luckily for human society, my son, a great many persons are similarly obtuse.”
“Ah,” said Florian, “but let us have no daring coruscations of wit where plain talking is needed.”
“I must tell you, then,” the saint continued, “that, when my suspicions were aroused at Brunbelois, I communicated with higher powers, and the Recording Angel obliged me with a fair copy of your first interview with Janicot. He objected to giving it: but I stood up for my rights as a saint, and in the end, after some little unpleasantness, he did give it. One really has to be firm with these angels, I find, in order to get the least bit of service. After that, at all events, the way to foil your wicked scheme was clear enough: in fact, it was the one possible way to prevent, without open scandal, your begetting of a child upon your wife for deplorable purposes. I advised the Princess to follow this way, and to make sure before marrying you that you should win to her embraces a bit too late to be the father of her child.”
“That seems to be unprecedented advice,” said Florian, sternly, “to have come from a saint of the Calendar.”
He tried, at least, to speak sternly: but a dreadful thought had smitten him, and Florian knew that he, who had wondered what people meant when they talked about fear, had done with wondering.
“It was for your own good and eternal salvation,” observed Melior, “though, to be sure, all men are like that, and, as I often think, the more you do for them the less they seem to appreciate your trouble—”
Florian said only, “May I inquire, madame, without appearing unduly intrusive, who was your collaborator in arranging this infant’s, debut?”
“Why, but of course she received all the necessary assistance,” replied St. Hoprig, “from me. I never grudge the efforts necessary to a good action of this sort: and all night long, my son, I labored cheerfully for your salvation. For it was my plain duty as your celestial patron to save you, at any cost, from falling into grave sin: and, besides, it was a matter hardly to be entrusted to any other gentleman without considerable possibilities of scandal.”