An Artifice
The old doctor and his young patient were talking by the side of the fire. There was nothing really the matter with her, except that she had one of those little feminine ailments from which pretty women frequently suffer—slight anaemia, an attack of nerves, and a suspicion of fatigue, probably of that fatigue from which newly-married people often suffer at the end of the first month of their married life, when they have made a love match.
She was lying on the chaise longue and talking. “No, doctor,” she said; “I shall never be able to understand a woman deceiving her husband. Even allowing that she does not love him, that she pays no heed to her vows and promises, how can she give herself to another man? How can she conceal the intrigue from other people’s eyes? How can it be possible to love amid lies and treason?”
The doctor smiled, and replied: “It is perfectly easy, and I can assure you that a woman does not think of all those little subtle details, when she has made up her mind to go astray. I even feel certain that no woman is ripe for true love until she has passed through all the promiscuousness and all the irksomeness of married life, which, according to a celebrated man, is nothing but an exchange of ill tempered words by day and bad smells at night. Nothing is more true, for no woman can love passionately until after she has married.
“As for dissimulation, all women have plenty of it on hand for such occasions. The simplest of them are wonderful tacticians, and extricate themselves from the greatest dilemmas in an extraordinary way.”
The young woman, however, seemed incredulous. “No, doctor,” she said; “one never thinks, until after it has happened, of what one ought to have done in a dangerous affair, and women are certainly more liable than men to lose their head on such occasions.”
The doctor raised his hands: “After it has happened, you say! Now I will tell you something that happened to one of my female patients, in whose mouth, I thought butter would not melt, as the saying is.
“It happened in a provincial town. One night when I was sleeping profoundly, in that deep, first sleep from which it is so difficult to rouse oneself, it seemed to me in my dreams as if the bells in the town were sounding a fire alarm and I woke up with a start. It was my own bell which was ringing wildly, and as my servant did not seem to be answering the door, I in turn pulled the bell at the head of my bed. Soon I heard banging and steps in the silent house, and then Jean came into my room and handed me a letter which said: ‘Madame Lelièvre begs Dr. Siméon to come to her immediately.’
“I thought for a few moments, and then I said to myself: ‘A nervous attack, vapours, nonsense; I am too tired.’
“And so I replied: ‘As Doctor Siméon is not at all well, he must beg Madame Lelièvre to be kind enough to call in his colleague, Monsieur Bonnet.’
“I put the note into an envelope, and went to sleep again, but about half an hour later, the street bell rang again, and Jean came to me and said: ‘There is somebody downstairs—I do not quite know whether it is a man or a woman, as the person is so wrapped up—who wishes to speak to you immediately. He says it is a matter of life and death for two people.’ Whereupon, I sat up in bed and told him to show the person in.
“A kind of black phantom appeared, who raised her veil as soon as Jean had left the room. It was Madame Bertha Lelièvre, quite a young woman, who had been married for three years to a big merchant in the town, who was said to have married the prettiest girl in the neighbourhood.
“She was terribly pale, her face was contracted like the faces of excited people occasionally are, and her hands trembled violently. Twice she tried to speak without being able to utter a sound, but at last she stammered out:
“ ‘Come—quick—quick, doctor—Come—my—my lover has just died in my bedroom.’ She stopped, half suffocated with emotion, and then went on: ‘My husband will—be coming home from the club very soon.’
“I jumped out of bed, without even considering that I was only in my nightshirt, and dressed myself in a few moments. Then I said: ‘Did you come a short time ago?’
“ ‘No,’ she said, standing like a statue petrified with horror. ‘It was my servant—she knows.’ And then, after a short silence, she went on: ‘I was there—by his side.’ And she uttered a sort of cry of horror, and after a fit of choking, which made her gasp, she wept violently, shaking with spasmodic sobs for a minute or two. Then her tears suddenly ceased, as if dried by an internal fire, and with an air of tragic calmness, she said: ‘Let us make haste.’
“I was ready, but I exclaimed: ‘I quite forgot to order my carriage.’
“ ‘I have one,’ she said; ‘it is his, which was waiting for him!’ She wrapped herself up, so as to completely conceal her face, and we started.
“When she was by my side in the darkness of the carriage, she suddenly seized my hand, and crushing it in her delicate fingers she said, with a shaking voice, that proceeded from a distracted heart: ‘Oh! If you only knew, if you only knew what I am suffering! I loved him, I have loved him distractedly, like a mad woman, for the last six months.’
“ ‘Is anyone up in your house?’ I asked.
“ ‘No, nobody except Rose, who knows everything.’
“We stopped at the door. Evidently everybody was asleep, and we went in without making any noise, by means of her latchkey, and walked upstairs on tiptoe. The frightened servant was sitting at the top of the stairs, with a lighted candle by her side, as she was afraid to stop by the dead man. I went into the room, which was turned upside down, as if there had been a struggle in it. The bed, which was tumbled and open, seemed to be waiting for somebody; one of the sheets was thrown on to the floor, and wet napkins, with which they had bathed the young man’s temples, were lying by the side of a wash-hand basin and a glass, while a strong smell of vinegar mingled with Lubin water pervaded the room.
“The dead man, was lying at full length, on his back, in the middle of the room, and I went up to him, looked at him, and touched him. I opened his eyes, and felt his hands, and then, turning to the two women, who were shaking as if they were frozen, I said to them: ‘Help me to lift him on to the bed.’ When we had laid him gently on to it, I listened to his heart, put a looking-glass to his lips, and then said: ‘It is all over; let us make haste and dress him.’ It was a terrible sight!
“I took his limbs one by one, as if they had belonged to some enormous doll, and held them out to the clothes which the women brought, and they put on his socks, drawers, trousers, waistcoat, and lastly the coat; but it was a difficult matter to get the arms into the sleeves.
“When it came to buttoning his boots, the two women kneeled down, while I held the light. As his feet were rather swollen, it was very difficult, and as they could not find a button hook, they had to use their hairpins. When the terrible toilette was over, I looked at our work and said: ‘You ought to arrange his hair a little.’ The girl went and brought her mistress’s large-toothed comb and brush, but as she was trembling, and pulling out his long, tangled hair in doing it, Madame Lelièvre took the comb out of her hand, and arranged his hair as if she were caressing him. She parted it, brushed his beard, rolled his moustaches gently round her fingers, as she had no doubt been in the habit of doing, in the familiarities of their intrigue.
“Suddenly, however, letting go of what she held, she took her dead lover’s inert head in her hands, and looked for a long time in despair at the dead face, which no longer could smile at her. Then, throwing herself on to him, she took him into her arms and kissed him ardently. Her kisses fell like blows on to his closed mouth and eyes, on to his forehead and temples, and then, putting her lips to his ear, as if he could still hear her, and as if she were about to whisper something to him, to make their embraces still more ardent, she said several times, in a heartrending voice: ‘Adieu, my darling!’
“Just then the clock struck twelve, and I started up. ‘Twelve o’clock!’ I exclaimed. ‘That is the time when the club closes. Come, Madame, we have not a moment to lose!’
“She started up, and I said: ‘We must carry him into the drawing room.’ When we had done this, I placed him on a sofa, and lit the chandeliers, and just then the front door was opened and shut noisily. The husband had come back, and I said: ‘Rose, bring me the basin and the towels, and make the room look tidy. Make haste, for heaven’s sake! Monsieur Lelièvre is coming in.’
“I heard his steps on the stairs, and then his hands feeling along the walls. ‘Come here, my dear fellow,’ I said; ‘we have had an accident.’
“And the astonished husband appeared in the door with a cigar in his mouth, and said: ‘What is the matter? What is the meaning of this?’
“ ‘My dear friend,’ I said, going up to him; ‘you find us in a nice fix. I had remained late, chatting with your wife and our friend, who had brought me in his carriage, when he suddenly fainted, and in spite of all we have done, he has remained unconscious for two hours. I did not like to call in strangers, and if you will now help me downstairs with him, I shall be able to attend to him better at his own house.’
“The husband, who was surprised, but quite unsuspicious, took off his hat. Then he took his now inoffensive rival, under the arms. I got between his two legs, as if I had been a horse between the shafts, and we went downstairs, while his wife lit the way for us. When we got outside, I held the body up, so as to deceive the coachman, and said: ‘Come, my friend; it is nothing; you feel better already, I expect. Pluck up your courage, and make an effort. It will soon be over.’ But as I felt that he was slipping out of my hands, I gave him a slap on the shoulder, which sent him forward and made him fall into the carriage; then I got in after him.
“Monsieur Lelièvre, who was rather alarmed, said to me: ‘Do you think it is anything serious?’ To which I replied, ‘No,’ with a smile, as I looked at his wife, who had put her arm into that of her legitimate husband, and was trying to see into the dark carriage.
“I shook hands with them, and told my coachman to start, and during the whole drive the dead man kept falling against me. When we got to his house, I said that he had become unconscious on the way home, and helped to carry him upstairs, where I certified that he was dead, and acted another comedy to his distracted family. At last I got back to bed, not without swearing at lovers.”
The doctor ceased, though he was still smiling, and the young woman, who was in a very nervous state, said: “Why have you told me that terrible story?”
He gave her a gallant bow, and replied:
“So that I may offer you my services, if necessary.”