Fromont and Risler -- Volume 3

eft his room on Rue de Braque, the illustrious Delobelle returned home, with downcast fac

ntly inquired Madame Delobelle, whom twenty years of

th some facial play, learned long before for stage purposes, dropped his lower lip,

the corner of his eye, making sport of me? Well, Frantz Risler has gone! He left the house a short time ago, and has left Paris perhaps ere this, without so much as coming to shake my hand, to thank me fo

e and grief. Desiree, on the contrary, did not say a word

ntrated on some object visible to them alone. Cause that poor suffering heart to open itself to you. Question your child. Make her speak, above all things make her weep, to rid

them rather. But, why had he returned? Why had he so heedlessly given her false hopes? How many tears had she devoured in silence since those hours! How many tales of woe had she told her little birds! For once mor

tless step, and sometimes, through the half-open door, see his loved shadow hurry across the landing. He did not seem happy. Indeed, what happiness could be in store for hi

s she would see him come in some day, wounded and dying, that he would sit down on the little low chair,

alive for three weeks. Sh

a glance for her, without a parting word. The lover's desertio

ith darkness, into which she plunged swiftly, helplessly, well knowing that she would never retur

he power to sustain her

ng that is c

arters where the working class live, the houses are too high,

hich the little cripple

mined upon at once:

nk either of poison to be purchased at the druggist's, a little package of white powder to be buried in the depths of the pocket, with the needle-case and the thimble. There was the phosphorus on the matches, too, the verdigris on old sous, the open window with

er carries you away somewhere, so that nobody f

terrified her. The girls of Paris laugh at that. You throw your apron over your head so that you can't

r had gone to bed, pull the cord of the gate, and make her way across Paris, where you meet men who stare impertinently into your face, a

child; are you going

child" replied that she was.

t being unable to endure the light longer. "I have put fathe

he shop in the morning; and really, to see that tranquil little head bending forward in the white li

sly lovely little bird whose wings seem to have been dipped

piece of brass wire, in the charming attitud

desperate flight into space! How certain one feels that this time it is

tear? No, nothing! With the terrible clearness of vision of those who are about to die, she suddenly realizes that her childhood and youth have been sacrificed to a vast self-love. She fe

s never without a rebellious feeling, and poor D

rted already. Desiree walks rapidly, wrapped in her little shawl, h

oes over the same ground. There is always something between her and the river. And to think that, at that very hour, almost in the same quarter, some one else is wa

Monsieur. How can

ecognize h

Zizi? What are you doing out-o

z. You have taken away al

eize her, press her to his heart an

o comfort me, to cure all the wou

ream, one of the meetings t

at last. The mist of that damp, soft autumn evening causes all of this huge Paris, entirely strange to her as it is, to appear to

ittle

which she breathed that day for the first time, falls to her lot again at the moment of her

the quay, which was bedecked as for a holiday, the furtive

e are shouts and excite

licemen come running from all sides. A boat pu

a yawn what is happening, the woman who keeps the cafe t

t jumped int

saved! It was a sand-hauler who fished her out. Policemen are carrying her, surrounded by boatmen and lightermen, and in the darkness a hoarse voice is heard saying with a sneer: "That water-hen gave me a lot of trou

y to the oblivion you sought, the river would drive you back to all the shame, to all the ignominy of unsuccessful suicide. First of all, the station, the hid

ch they had wrapped her, and despite fatigue and fever tried to stand, in order to regain full possession of her faculties and her will. She had but one thought-

e said, trembling from head to

t. She must go before the commissioner first. That was absolutely necessary. They called a cab from compassion for her; but she must go from the station to the cab, and there was a crowd at the door to stare at the little

man rose from the shadow and came

ward, her hideous rescue

laugh, and in a voice that made one think of fogg

es, a buzzing in her ears. At last she was ushered into a smaller room, into the presence of a pompous individual, wearing the insigni

s eyes from his paper, as he dipped a piece of bread in his cup; and

old, flower-maker, living with her parents on Rue de Braque, tried to commit suicide by throwing herself int

th a pompous affectation of virtue at the woman Delobelle, and lectured her in the most approved fashion. It was very wicked, it was cowardly, this th

to her that it would put a stigma upon her love to avow it in su

he should be taken back to her parents, but only on

do you

es, Mo

never tr

ed I will not

ieur le Commissaire de Police shook his

ay to her home, to a place of refuge;

ve curiosity of the neighbors must be endured. Early in the morning the whole quarter had been informed of her disappearance. It was rumored that she had gone away with Frantz Risler. The illustrious Delobelle had gone forth very early, intensely agitated, with his hat awry and rumpled wristband

front of the door. Voices and f

ere she is! Your da

, pale and fainting, without hat or shawl, and wrapped in a great brown cape.

lle would never have believed that she was so strong. To lift her daughter, take her into

ld? Tell me, is it true that you tried to kill yourself? Wer

Desiree felt a terrible burden of remorse. She remembered that she had gone away without say

oving

w that your bed hadn't been slept in and that you weren't in the workroom either!-I just turned round a

lothes, rubbed her feet, an

ed in returning from death to life. In the fever, which rapidly increased, in the intense drowsiness which began to overpower her, her mad j

she could not find in th

re that oppressed her, the poor child, powerless to escape the obsession of