The sight of tipsy shopkeepers in a frenzy of foolish ardour,half drink, half patriotism, sickened him, and this playing atsoldiers, tramping through the mud on an empty stomach, struckhim as after all an odious, ugly business.
Luckily Garneret was his comrade in the ranks, and Servien feltthe salutary effect of that well-stored, well-ordered mind, theservant of duty and stern reality. Only this saved him from apassion, as futile in the past as it was hopeless in the future,which was assuming the dangerous character of a mental disease.
He had not seen Gabrielle again for a long time. The theatreswere shut; all he knew, from the newspapers, was that she wasnursing the wounded in the theatre ambulance. He had no wishnow to meet her.
When he was not on duty, he used to lie in bed and read (it was ahard winter and wood was scarce), or else scour the boulevards andmix with the throng of idlers in search of news. One evening, earlyin January, as he was passing the corner of the _Rue Drouot_, hisattention was attracted by the clamour of voices, and he sawMonsieur Bargemont being roughly handled by an ill-looking gangof National Guards.
"I am a better Republican than any of you," the big man wasvociferating; "I have always protested against the infamies ofthe Empire. But when you shout: Vive Blanqui!... excuse me...
I have a right to shout: Vive Jules Favre! excuse me, I have aperfect right----" But his voice was drowned in a chorus of yells.
Men in _képis_ shook their fists at him, shouting: "Traitor! nosurrender! down with Badinguet!" His broad face, distraught withterror, still bore traces of its erstwhile look of smug effrontery.
A girl in the crowd shrieked: "Throw him in the river!" and ahundred voices took up the cry. But just at that moment the crowdswayed back violently and Monsieur Bargemont darted into theforecourt of the _Mairie_. A squad of police officers receivedhim in their ranks and closed in round him. He was saved!
Little by little the crowd melted away, and Jean heard a dozendifferent versions of the incident as it travelled withever-increasing exaggeration from mouth to mouth. The last comerslearned the startling news that they had just arrested a Germangeneral officer, who had sneaked into Paris as a spy to betraythe city to the enemy with the connivance of the Bonapartists.
The streets being once more passable, Jean saw Monsieur Bargemontcome out of the _Mairie_. He was very red and a sleeve of hisovercoat was torn away.
Jean made up his mind to follow him.
Along the boulevards he kept him in view at a distance, and notmuch caring whether he lost track of him or no; but when theFunctionary turned up a cross street, the young man closed inon his quarry. He had no particular suspicion even now; a mereinstinct urged him to dog the man's heels. Monsieur Bargemontwheeled to the right, into a fairly broad street, empty and badlylighted by petroleum flares that supplied the place of the gaslamps. It was the one street Jean knew better than another. Hehad been there so often and often! The shape of the doors, thecolour of the shop-fronts, the lettering on the sign-boards,everything about it was familiar; not a thing in it, down tothe night-bell at the chemist's and druggist's, but called upmemories, associations, to touch him. The footsteps of the two menechoed in the silence. Monsieur Bargemont looked round, advanceda few paces more and rang at a door. Jean Servien had now come upwith him and stood beside him under the archway. It was the samedoor he had kissed one night of desperation, Gabrielle's door. Itopened; Jean took a step forward and Monsieur Bargemont, goingin first, left it open, thinking the National Guard there wasa tenant going home to his lodging. Jean slipped in and climbedtwo flights of the dark staircase. Monsieur Bargemont ascendedto the third floor and rang at a door on the landing, which wasopened. Jean could hear Gabrielle's voice saying:
"How late you are coming home, dear; I have sent Rosalie to bed;I was waiting up for you, you see."The man replied, still puffing and panting with his exertions:
"Just fancy, they wanted to pitch me into the river, thosescoundrels! But never you mind, I've brought you something mightyrare and precious--a pot of butter.""Like Little Red Ridinghood," laughed Gabrielle's voice. "Comein and you shall tell me all about it.... Hark! do you hear?""What, the guns? Oh! that never stops.""No, the noise of a fall on the stairs.""You're dreaming!""Give me the candle, I'm going to look."Monsieur Bargemont went down two or three steps and saw Jeanstretched motionless on the landing.
"A drunkard," he said; "there's so many of them! They were drunkards,those chaps who wanted to drown me."He was holding his light to Jean's ashy face, while Gabrielle,leaning over the rail, looked on:
"It's not a drunken man," she said; "he is too white. Perhapsit is a poor young fellow dying of hunger. When you're broughtdown to rations of bread and horseflesh----"Then she looked more carefully under frowning brows, and muttered:
"It's very queer, it's really very queer!""Do you know him?" asked Bargemont.
"I am trying to remember----"But there was no need to try; already she had recalled it all--howher hand had been kissed at the gate of the little house at Bellevue.
Running to her rooms, she returned with water and a bottle ofether, knelt beside the fainting man, and slipping her arm, whichwas encircled by the white band of a nursing sister, under hisshoulders, raised Jean's head. He opened his eyes, saw her, heavedthe deepest sigh of love ever expelled from a human breast andfelt his lids fall softly to again. He remembered nothing; onlyshe was bending over him; and her breath had caressed his cheek.
Now she was bathing his temples, and he felt a delicious senseof returning life. Monsieur Bargemont with the candle leant overJean Servien, who, opening his eyes for the second time, saw theman's coarse red cheek within an inch of the actress's delicateear. He gave a great cry and a convulsive spasm shook his body.
"Perhaps it is an epileptic fit," said Monsieur Bargemont, coughing;he was catching cold standing on the staircase.
She protested:
"We cannot leave a sick man without doing something for him. Goand wake Rosalie."He remounted the stairs, grumbling. Meantime Jean had got to hisfeet and was standing with averted head.
She said to him in a low tone:
"So you love me still?"He looked at her with an indescribable sadness:
"No, I don't love you any longer"--and he staggered down the stairs.
Monsieur Bargemont reappeared:
"It's very curious," he said, "but I can't make Rosalie hear."The actress shrugged her shoulders.
"Look here, go away, will you? I have a horrid headache. Go away,Bargemont."