The Seven Cardinal Sins: Envy and Indolence

"But if they changed their names and declared themselves man and wife, how could there be any scandal? Who would discover the truth? Who would have any interest in ferreting it out?"

"Why, sooner or later, you or I, madame."

"All the more reason that they would have changed their names if they had felt that they had anything to fear, for so long as they kept their names, was it not comparatively easy to find out their whereabouts, as we have discovered for ourselves? Besides, monsieur, if they had wished to conceal themselves effectually, couldn't they have done it just as easily as they have managed to conceal the greater part of their existence, – for they spend most of the time away from home, you know."

"And it is that very thing that puzzles me so! Where do they spend this time? Where were they going this morning? Florence, who could seldom be induced to leave her bed by noon, has been getting up before four o'clock in the morning for four years. Think of it!"

"And Michel, too. It is certainly astonishing."

"To what can we attribute this change?"

"I do not know, but the change itself is a very favourable indication. It leads me to think that Michel has at last overcome the apathy and indolence which were so fatal to his welfare, and which have caused me so much suffering."

"You reason very sensibly, madame. If Florence is no longer the indolent creature who regarded a drive as entirely too fatiguing, and the slightest pleasure trip as positive martyrdom, if the life of privation which she has led for the last four years has transformed her, how gladly will I forget and ignore the past! How happy my life may still be! But, hold, madame, what I fear above all things now, is that I shall be such a fool as to hope at all."

"Why do you say that?"

"You have some reason to hope, madame; for you, at least, have been loved, while Florence has never known a spark of love for me."

"Because there was such an utter lack of congeniality between her character and yours; but if, as we have good reason to believe, her character has been transformed by the very exigencies of the life she has been leading for the last four years, perhaps what she most disliked in you prior to that time will please her most now. Did she not tell you, in the heat of your quarrel, that she considered you one of the most generous and honourable of men?"

"Nevertheless, I dare not cherish the slightest hope, madame. Disappointment would be too hard to bear."

"Hope on, hope ever, monsieur! Disappointment, if it comes at all, will come only too soon. But to change hope into certainty, we must first penetrate the veil of mystery in which Florence and Michel have enveloped themselves. The nature of the relations existing between them once fathomed, we shall know exactly where we stand."

"I agree with you perfectly, madame, but how are we to do that?"

"By resorting to the same expedient we employed this morning; by following them, though not without exercising much greater precautions. The hour at which they leave home makes this comparatively easy, but if this mode of procedure proves a failure, we shall have to devise some other."

"Possibly it would be less likely to excite their suspicions if I followed them alone."

"Very well, monsieur, and if you do not succeed, I will see what I can do."

Here an apologetic rap at the door interrupted the conversation.

"Come in," said Madame d'Infreville.

A servant entered with a letter in his hand.

"A messenger just left this for madame," he explained.

"From whom?"

"He did not say, madame. He left as soon as he handed me the letter."

"You may go," said Valentine; then, turning to M. de Luceval, "Will you permit me?" she asked.

He bowed his assent. Valentine broke the seal, glanced at the signature, and exclaimed:

"Florence? Why, it is a letter from Florence!"

"From my wife?" exclaimed M. de Luceval.

They gazed at each other in utter amazement.

"But how did she discover your address, madame?"

"I have no idea."

"Read it, madame, read it, in Heaven's name!"

Madame d'Infreville read as follows:

"MY DEAR VALENTINE: – I have learned that you are in Paris, and I can not tell you what happiness it would give me to embrace you, but it is absolutely necessary for me to defer that pleasure for nearly three months, that is, until early in June.

"If you care to see your old friend at that time, – and I have the assurance to believe that you will, – you must go to M. Duval, notary, at Number 17 Rue Montmartre, and tell him who you are. He will then give you a letter containing my address. He will not receive this letter until the last of May, however; and at this present time he does not even know me by name.

"I am so certain of your affection, my dear Valentine, that I shall count upon a visit from you. The journey may seem a little long to you, but you can remain with me and rest, and we shall have so much to say to each other.

"Your best friend, who loves you with all her heart,

    "FLORENCE DE L."

The intense surprise this letter excited can be readily understood. Valentine and her companion remained silent for a moment. M. de Luceval was the first to speak.

"They must have seen us following them this morning," he exclaimed.

"But how did Florence discover where I am?" said Valentine, thoughtfully. "I have met nobody I know in Paris except you, monsieur, and one of our old servants, with whose assistance I succeeded in ascertaining Michel's address. The man of whom I speak has a sister who was Michel's nurse and afterwards his housekeeper."

"But why did Florence write to you, madame, and not to me, if she suspected that I was following her?"

"You are mistaken in that supposition, perhaps, monsieur. She may have written to me without knowing that you are in Paris."

"But in that case, why does she postpone your visit to her, and why this indirect request that you make no attempt to discover her whereabouts before the last of May, as she warns you that the person who is to give you her address will not know it himself until that time."

"Yes, it is very evident that Florence does not wish to see me until after three months have elapsed, and that she has taken measures accordingly. Do you suppose that Michel can have had any hand in the sending of this letter?"

"It is my opinion that we haven't a minute to lose," said M. de Luceval. "Let us take a cab and go to the Rue de Vaugirard at once. If my wife's suspicions have been aroused, it is more than likely that she returned home during the day and gave some order that may enlighten us."

"You are right, monsieur; let us go at once."

An hour afterwards Valentine and M. de Luceval rejoined each other in the cab which had deposited them a short distance from the two adjoining houses where their search was to be conducted.

"Ah, well, monsieur, what news?" asked Madame d'Infreville, who, pale and agitated, had been the first to return to the vehicle.

"There can no longer be any doubt that my wife suspects the truth, madame. I told the porter that I wished to see Madame de Luceval on very important business. 'That lady no longer resides here, monsieur,' the man replied. 'She came in a carriage about eleven o'clock and took away several bundles and packages, at the same time informing me that she had no intention of returning again. Madame de Luceval has paid her rent six months in advance ever since she came here, and some time ago she gave notice of her intention to leave on the first of June. As for the few articles of furniture that she owns, she is to let us know what disposal we are to make of them.' It was impossible to get anything more out of the man. And you, madame, what did you find out?"

"Almost the very same thing that you did, monsieur," replied Valentine, despondently. "Michel returned home about eleven o'clock. He, too, informed the porter of his intention of leaving the house, and promised to let him know what disposition to make of his furniture. He, too, had notified the landlord of his intention of giving up his rooms on the first of June."