MADAME DE LA GUERNERIE SWAYED LIKE AN APPARITION. 
 
 Frontispiece Page
 
 THE DECISION 
 
 From the French of 
 LON DE TINSEAU 
 
 Translated by 
 FRANK ALVAH DEARBORN 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 JOSEPH CUMMINGS CHASE 
 
 AND 
 
 CAROLINE PEART 
 
 G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
 
 COPYRIGHT, ign, 1912, BY 
 THE TREND MAGAZINE PUBLISHING CO. 
 
 COPYRIGHT, igiz, BY 
 G. W. DILUNGHAM COMPANY 
 
 The Decision
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. PAUL CHOOSES A MILITARY CAREER ... 7 
 
 II. ON THE FRONTIER OF MOROCCO 21 
 
 III. SERGEANT WALTER 39 
 
 JV. THE COUP DE GRACE * . . 49 
 
 V. "!F You KNEW" 77 
 
 VI. COUNTESS DE LA GUERNERIE 92 
 
 VII. THE MEERSCHAUM PIPE 125 
 
 VIII. RUE DE L'YVETTE 146 
 
 IX. THE MEETING WITH DOCTOR TUCHEIM . . 163 
 
 X. THE BETROTHAL 180 
 
 XI. "Now You KNOW MY SECRET" 199 
 
 XII. THE REVELATION 217 
 
 XIII. THE DECISION 232 
 
 2135347
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Madame de la Guernerie swayed like an appari- 
 tion Frontispiece 120 
 
 " I should like to buy that pipe of yours. What 
 
 do you ask for it?" 186 
 
 This was all the ceremony of their betrothal . . 195
 
 THE DECISION 
 
 PAUL CHOOSES A MILITARY CAREER 
 
 Tarragnoz the painter was among Ms 
 colleagues a sort of favorite. His style, 
 although neither obscure nor inacces- 
 sible, brought him fame and fortune, 
 for the public of forty years ago had 
 never accepted the standard now re- 
 quired that art be difficult. He sold his 
 pictures at high prices, quickly became
 
 8 THE DECISION 
 
 ivell known, if not illustrious, and 
 saved money without being penurious. 
 [Finally, lie had the opportunity to 
 marry, not his model, as might be sup- 
 posed, but a poor orphan of the best so- 
 cial standing; a girl of splendid mind 
 with just enough Bohemian tint to 
 amuse the men of the world without 
 causing the comment "sale bourgeois" 
 from the painter's associates. 
 
 Their married life was brief, for the 
 young husband soon died and the wife 
 who adored him did not long survive. 
 As for their son, then six years of age, 
 it is impossible even with the best of in- 
 tentions to pretend that fortune fa- 
 vored him during the early years of his 
 life. His paternal uncle, who imagined 
 himself to be something of an invalid,
 
 THE DECISION 
 
 took charge of the orphan, who fortu- 
 nately was not poor, and placed him in 
 a first-class school. Here young Paul 
 worked just enough to keep up with 
 the average minds, except in the class 
 of design. There, from the first day, 
 he held and never left the foot of the 
 class. 
 
 Vainly his anxious master tried to 
 stimulate his pride by holding before 
 his eyes the moral obligation to be a 
 good painter which rested upon the son 
 of the famous Tarragnoz. 
 
 Pushed to the limit, this rebel against 
 atavism, who was then fourteen years 
 old, declared that he detested painting. 
 
 "First, the smell is too bad and, be- 
 sides, I do not wish to be like my father, 
 who arose with the servants and half
 
 10 THE DECISION 
 
 the time came to dinner only after we 
 had eaten a course or two." 
 
 "But, my friend, when one bears the 
 name Tarragnoz!" 
 
 "When one bears the name of Tar- 
 ragnoz one ought not to make bad pic- 
 tures. Rest assured, sir, I shall not do 
 it." 
 
 "Then," prophesied the master, 
 "you will be another example of idle- 
 ness dissipating a fortune acquired by 
 work." 
 
 Becoming more and more serious and 
 with a slight movement of the head 
 which indicated a firm decision, young 
 Paul responded: 
 
 "No, I shall enter Saint-Cyr. At 
 least if I am retired before having 
 passed the grade of captain no one will
 
 THE DECISION 11 
 
 refer to the military glories of my fam- 
 ily." 
 
 It was easy to see that, although he 
 might never become a painter, he prom- 
 ised to be a good logician and he al- 
 ready showed a tendency to personali- 
 ties which caused his comrades to apply 
 to him the unjust epithet of "Snob." 
 He was not a snob, but he possessed an 
 independence of mind which was car- 
 ried a little too far. Given a situation 
 in which another person would feel 
 himself obliged to do a certain thing by 
 commonplace conventionality, his first 
 thought would be not to do the obvious 
 thing. 
 
 Although he failed to appreciate it, 
 this love for unbeaten paths in a large 
 measure saved him from the danger of
 
 12 
 
 bad examples. Weak men very often 
 walk irregularly through fear of being 
 considered singular if they walk 
 straight. The opposite sentiment in 
 young Tarragnoz on many occasions 
 took the place of religious principles 
 that he lacked; for his only moral 
 equipment was what he had been able 
 to absorb in two hours of Ethics each 
 week. And he had neither father nor 
 mother to serve him as private teachers. 
 At eighteen he was admitted to Saint- 
 Cyr as he had announced. At the same 
 time his guardian, an old bachelor ab- 
 sorbed by his pills and powders and 
 fancied stomach trouble, gave him his 
 freedom and rendered his accounts. He 
 could only predict that the young man 
 was going to ruin himself, if not during
 
 THE DECISION 13 
 
 the sojourn at the school, at least soon 
 after leaving. 
 
 "Why?" asked Paul. 
 
 "Because," responded the prophet, 
 "a young man in your situation always 
 ruins himself." 
 
 "Oh! not always," said he with a lit- 
 tle mockery in his eyes. 
 
 Already skeptical, he divined that 
 prophets always count upon aiding the 
 accomplishment of their prophecy. 
 
 However, it is impossible to conceal 
 the fact that his thirty thousand pounds 
 of securities had been nearly reduced to 
 twenty when his second gold band was 
 sewed upon his sleeve. But, in fact, this 
 was not his ruin. Besides he had to his 
 credit a great capital of experience, for 
 "boosted" by the name of his father he
 
 14 THE DECISION 
 
 had obtained the city of Paris as his 
 first garrison. 
 
 After having believed that he had 
 known the world in the balls of the 
 Academy and other similar affairs dur- 
 ing the time at the Military School, Tar- 
 ragnoz was now able to understand it 
 fully. This young man was not hand- 
 some, thank heaven, but he was robust, 
 well proportioned, elegantly formed and 
 with one of those unusual physiog- 
 nomies which make one ask, "Who is 
 he?" If he did not possess, or did not 
 cultivate the journalistic mind which 
 many women prefer, he had that inde- 
 scribable personal perception generally 
 known as sense of humor. 
 
 This natural gift gave him acuteness 
 and penetration which was pleasing to
 
 THE DECISION 15 
 
 refined persons. He always avoided 
 making wounds wMch would take long 
 to heal. The process of healing seemed 
 to him tiresome as well as painful, be- 
 cause it was always the same. In fact, 
 everything was "always the same" in 
 the life of the Parisian world, and this 
 was a favorite theme of his conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 "In the year of the agricultural la- 
 borer," said he, "I do not find more mo- 
 notony or less of the unexpected than 
 in ours. He sows, he sees his grain 
 shoot up, making green the plains and 
 forming itself into heads of corn, he 
 watches the straw become yellow. He 
 cuts, he packs his harvest and takes it 
 to the market ; then he commences over 
 again. We ourselves have the season of
 
 16 THE DECISION 
 
 dinners, the season of collections for the 
 poor, the horse show where awaken the 
 great passions destined to ripen after 
 Easter. Then comes the Salon, then the 
 dog show, then Auteuil, then Long- 
 champ, then the springs or the seashore, 
 then the hunting, then the return to 
 Paris which does not even have the ad- 
 vantage of reuniting persons who have 
 been separated. The Parisian in his 
 horror of change decides to go to Switz- 
 erland, to the Pyrenees or to Trouville, 
 according as it is certain 'that every- 
 one will be there.' 
 
 "Where are you going?" he was 
 asked on a certain day when projects 
 for the summer were being considered. 
 
 "I shall go to Algeria, eight hundred 
 kilometres south of Oran."
 
 THE DECISION 17 
 
 The strangest thing was that he was 
 not joking. His orderly had already 
 packed his trunks. Promoted to a lieu- 
 tenancy, he received, by virtue of the 
 same "pull" which had secured for him 
 Paris for his debut, a place in the For- 
 eign Legion. 
 
 In this world, that is to say, in some 
 square centimetres of the " world" 
 which form the special enclosure of a 
 Parisian, this departure was the sub- 
 ject of much talk. Some declared that 
 he was insane, others that he was ruined, 
 others that he was hopelessly in love. 
 Among this number, one pretty woman, 
 who had resisted his somewhat mild at- 
 tacks, greatly wished to believe herself 
 responsible for the damage. In a few 
 written words, which might mean much
 
 18 THE DECISION 
 
 or nothing, she cast a ray of hope upon 
 the battlefield too quickly abandoned. 
 But Tarragnoz, who had not under- 
 stood, drew himself out of the affair by 
 a little confidence of two pages : 
 
 Can it be true, dear Madame, that on your 
 reception day, when it was impossible for me to 
 appear, they really wished to talk of me and, 
 after what you said, to search for the key to the 
 mystery? If, as I very much doubt, they men- 
 tion it again next Thursday, be good enough to 
 say to your friends that I am the least mysteri- 
 ous of men. I assure you that I greatly regret 
 it, for it would be worth more than to be what I 
 am, that is to say, an infant too advanced for 
 his years, bored by the frightful monotony which 
 is the result of civilization. For a society tires 
 itself more in proportion as it becomes more civ- 
 ilized an unavoidable thing since the end of 
 civilization is to suppress as much as possible the 
 unexpected. 
 
 Before the deluge, man, always exposed to 
 the. unlooked-for unpleasant meeting with two
 
 THE DECISION 19 
 
 rows of flesh-eaters, never found the hours too 
 long, be sure of that. 
 
 Ten or twenty thousand years later our ladies 
 of the manor were unacquainted with ennui. 
 Every morning on arising they might hear that 
 the invested dungeon was about to be assaulted 
 and that without mentioning pillage and fire 
 the most detestable surprise menaced their 
 charms. 
 
 The most trivial visit in the neighborhood 
 exposed them to the danger of being swallowed 
 up in the flood, held in ransom by the marauders 
 or abducted by some unscrupulous lover. "Were 
 they able to say if the husbands started for the 
 hunt that they would not be stifled by the bears 
 or disemboweled by the aurochs? If inclined to 
 be flirtatious, was there not always the chance 
 in sitting at table of hearing at dessert this indi- 
 gestible communication: "Madame, you have 
 eaten the heart of your lover!" 
 
 Civilization has suppressed all imagination, 
 particularly in the matter of conjugal reprisals. 
 
 I, dear Madame, shudder at the thought that 
 until my hair is white I shall say, hear said, do 
 and order the same things, with the difference 
 of a little more gold upon my sleeve.
 
 20 THE DECISION 
 
 The distractions of a war are less and less 
 probable in our civilized military system. 
 
 So, then, I am going into the desert to com- 
 mand soldiers who for the most part hide their 
 true name ; and I go to fight with the jovial fel- 
 lows who still cut off the heads of the wounded 
 when time lacks for something worse. In other 
 words, I am trying a cure of savagery; that is 
 the whole mystery. Some years of this regime 
 will probably suffice to make me find delightful 
 that which is monotonous and, more delightful 
 still, she who is adorable. You know, Madame, 
 of whom. I wish to speak. If you do not know, 
 your hands which I kiss for a long time will be 
 able to tell you. 
 
 TARRAGNOZ.
 
 II 
 
 ON THE FRONTIER OF MOROCCO 
 
 Two months later Paul opened his 
 eyes at the reveille in a small zinc house 
 in one of the most advanced posts of 
 of South Oranis. With regard to the 
 sought-for surprises, this garrison, in 
 the midst of the desert to which it had 
 arrived by dangerous marches of three 
 weeks' duration, left nothing for even 
 the most exacting to desire. But the 
 troupe which he had under his orders, 
 a company detached from a regiment 
 of the Foreign Legion, departed from 
 its usual routine more often than the 
 garrison. 
 
 21
 
 22 THE DECISION 
 
 In the first place, that which chiefly 
 distinguishes this troupe is its manner 
 of recruitment ; one knows of them only 
 after they are enlisted. By a deroga- 
 tion of the laws of all military organiza- 
 tion they require of the man presenting 
 himself the single condition that he be 
 able-bodied; no matter if his hair is 
 growing gray and he is unable to speak 
 a word of French. From where he 
 comes, or why he comes, or what decep- 
 tions or remorse fill his past life, no one 
 demands of him. He enlists under any 
 name whatever, true or false. The true 
 name sometimes has suddenly disap- 
 peared from the lists of our regular 
 army. 
 
 There, side by side with the Alsatian 
 deserter whom we ought to salute pro-
 
 23 
 
 f oundly, one finds the gay fellows who 
 have deserted morality in all countries, 
 even in ours. That concerns only them- 
 selves and their Creator. To change the 
 name was perhaps for them a necessity ; 
 perhaps, also, the greatest and last sign 
 of respect which they owed to their 
 family. 
 
 One may judge that there was no lack 
 of the unexpected among soldiers re- 
 cruited in this fashion. But that which 
 attracted the young lieutenant, in view 
 of his own natural bravery, was the evi- 
 dent contempt for life shown by his men 
 in the course of engagements, somewhat 
 rare in the neighborhood of such a fron- 
 tier. The astonishing thing was that 
 these expatriots, who seemed to have re- 
 nounced their country, remembered it
 
 24 THE DECISION 
 
 in the moments of effort and peril. 
 Sometimes in a charge one would hear 
 a soldier cry out to himself, "Vive 
 I'ltalie!" or "Vive la Belgique!" some- 
 times even "Vive I'Allemagne!" and in 
 the animation of their courage an ardent 
 national rivalry made them warriors in 
 the true sense of the word. 
 
 That their ignorance of discipline was 
 as complete as their ignorance of danger 
 was something the new lieutenant was 
 not long in perceiving. 
 
 "My dear fellow," said his captain to 
 him, "get it into your head that we are 
 not in the barracks of la Pepiniere here, 
 nor at the grand manoeuvres. Do not 
 have too sharp an eye or too fine ears, 
 or you will have an excellent chance of 
 not dying of old age. These devils have
 
 THE DECISION 25 
 
 not come here for their health nor for 
 yours, and sometimes their guns 'scat- 
 ter'." 
 
 "Thanks, captain, but neither have I 
 come to this paradise to improve my. 
 complexion." 
 
 " You may be sure the men know that. 
 The single fact that a young man of 
 family, with the appearance of pros- 
 perity and without a queer history has 
 exchanged Paris for the Legion has al- 
 ready gained their esteem. At the right 
 time you will see that they will cheer- 
 fully risk their skins one for the other, 
 chiefs or soldiers." 
 
 Captain Mataillet attached himself 
 very quickly to his lieutenant, whom he 
 overwhelmed with his confidences, even 
 with his confessions. He had come up
 
 26 THE DECISION 
 
 from the ranks, had always served in 
 [Algeria, and many times had got him- 
 self in a bad pickle "on account of that 
 damned rascal absinthe." He talked 
 of that fatal liquor about the same as he 
 would have spoken of a living creature, 
 full of artifice, persistently lying in wait 
 to do injury after the fashion of the Mo- 
 roccans. 
 
 Fortunately, in going south, the dan- 
 ger of the former diminished as much as 
 the latter increased, as there were no 
 cafes in that far off region. 
 
 "If only we could find the wells," 
 added he. 
 
 When he talked of the Moroccans, one 
 would have thought he was hearing a 
 City police officer speaking of the 
 Apaches. For him "ces ~bougres la"
 
 THE DECISION 27 
 
 were not citizens of a country jealous of 
 its independence, but detestable vaga- 
 bonds, thinking only of doing injury, 
 capable of every atrocity, and face to 
 face with whom extermination was the 
 only commendable proceeding. 
 
 "In fact/' concluded he, "if the 
 scoundrels are not obstructed, perhaps 
 I shall have my ear slit before my fourth 
 galloon." "Whenever they were to- 
 gether, Paul never heard him speak of 
 any other subject. 
 
 Among the lower officers, Tarragnoz 
 had from the first noticed his sergeant. 
 This man was a Swiss named "Walter, 
 who, unlike his captain, was able to talk 
 upon all subjects, although he displayed 
 a certain caution if one approached the 
 chapter of his personal recollections.
 
 28 THE DECISION 
 
 His age, as often happens to certain 
 women, seemed to vary under the in- 
 fluence of the hour, of his impressions, 
 or, more probably, of the return to his 
 thoughts of painful periods of his past 
 life. After a day of inaction, when the 
 evening arrived, he would have upon his 
 forehead and at the corners of his mouth 
 such wrinkles as would make him ap- 
 pear to be forty. The following day he 
 would seem to be not over twenty, if 
 they started him out early in the morn- 
 ing to search the neighboring gorges and 
 chase the sheep-stealers, who so quickly 
 could change to assassins. Under the 
 fire of the long guns, Walter shouldered 
 his carbine with the coolness of a man 
 shooting pigeons at Monte Carlo. His 
 chief at first believed him to be fond of
 
 THE DECISION 
 
 danger as of sport, but he soon had a 
 suspicion that this blond, with the blue 
 eyes, fine hands and caressing voice, 
 sought in battle some things besides the 
 agitation of his nerves. After a rather 
 bad skirmish he felt that it was his duty; 
 to admonish him. 
 
 "I don't know whether you are 
 tired of life, but you ought to think 
 of others who might look at the mat- 
 ter differently. In such a war as we 
 are carrying on, it happens that a 
 wounded man costs two or three times 
 as much as a dead one, because it 
 is impossible to leave him in the 
 hands of an enemy whose habits you 
 know." 
 
 " If I am wounded it will cost the gov- 
 ernment only a single cartridge. Many
 
 30 THE DECISION 
 
 of my comrades have promised to shoot 
 me if they see the Moroccans come to 
 take me." 
 
 "I," said Tarragnoz, " promise you 
 another thing. I will blow out the 
 brains of anyone who commits a crime 
 like that. You will do well to warn 
 your comrades." 
 
 "But, lieutenant, they have promised 
 to do this at my request. Your ideas 
 will change upon this subject and also 
 upon others." 
 
 "Decidedly," thought Paul, "the 
 brave Mataillet is right, we are not in 
 the barracks of la Pepiniere." 
 
 "Let us see," said some one in a loud 
 voice, "do you believe that a man has 
 the right to dispose coolly of his lif e in 
 advance, as a paper which one orders
 
 THE DECISION 31 
 
 destroyed, so it shall not fall into indis- 
 creet hands?" 
 
 "Hold on," said Walter, laughing, 
 "one would say it is the * parson' speak- 
 ing." 
 
 Contrary to what one might expect, 
 the personage thus designated did not 
 wear a gown (to see one you would have 
 to travel far), but the velvet-trimmed 
 uniform of a military doctor. It is nec- 
 essary to present with some care this 
 original of a type which one unfortun- 
 ately rarely meets. Rudolph Tucheim, 
 instead of waiting to become a hero of 
 romance, satisfied himself with being a 
 real hero all the time ; a hero with big 
 spectacles, with a back bent by study 
 and with a strong accent. Many acts of 
 bravery had gained for him the Cross.
 
 32 THE DECISION 
 
 Born at Strasbourg during the siege, 
 remaining French through his passion 
 for Alsace, he had joined the Legion in 
 order to care for "his dear Alsatians." 
 He was for them a sort of lay chaplain, 
 knowing their history, possessing their 
 secrets, hiding in his cantine their let- 
 ters to be sent off the day after a bat- 
 tle, letters which would sadden the old 
 mother who had given her milk to the 
 lost one, and the young woman who had 
 given him her heart. 
 
 The thing which rendered Tucheim 
 worthy of his ecclesiastical nickname 
 will be in the eyes of the readers a su- 
 preme trait of originality ; this military 
 doctor was a confirmed Catholic. In 
 the Legion no one thought of blaming 
 him or laughing at him. Paul Tarrag-
 
 THE DECISION 33 
 
 noz, a free thinker of the most liberal 
 type, refrained from doing either, but 
 he was courteously astonished at one of 
 their first conversations. 
 
 "I do not believe," said he, "that I 
 have ever met a doctor who admitted 
 the supernatural. In justice, I ought to 
 say that I have but little resorted to 
 your colleagues, as is usually the case 
 with men who are in good health." 
 
 Tucheim did not willingly enter into a 
 discussion upon an infrequent subject 
 to please the interlocutor, but judging 
 that with the lieutenant one might be 
 able to approach the metaphysical do- 
 main, he responded: 
 
 " Doctors do not willingly admit the 
 supernatural for the same reason which 
 prevents you military men from admir-
 
 34 THE DECISION 
 
 ing diplomacy. You have been taught 
 that there is but one force in the world, 
 the arm which kills the body. We are 
 taught to prostrate ourselves before 
 science, represented as all powerful and 
 unique to save. In that posture, less 
 fatiguing than it appears, many doctors 
 remain all their lives; others, neither 
 more stupid nor less courageous, raise 
 the head, look above them and arrive at 
 this double conclusion. First, the ani- 
 mal creation is not the most important 
 part of the human composition; next, 
 science, in spite of the marvelous treas- 
 ures which she offers us, is summoned 
 each morning before the tribunal of 
 failures by a disappointed patient." 
 
 "Mazette! If you ever sustain that 
 thesis in a congress of doctors, please
 
 THE DECISION 35 
 
 give me notice that I may hasten to pre- 
 vent them from knocking you down. 
 Have you ever heard of Christian 
 Science which abolishes the remedies 
 and replaces them by prayer ? Ah, well, 
 my friend, you coast very near that dis- 
 astrous heresy." 
 
 "Not at all. On the contrary, I do 
 not wrong the doctors. There are some 
 who narrow their empire and curtail 
 the dispensatory in refusing to pre- 
 scribe certain remedies which are par- 
 ticularly efficacious. Perhaps you have 
 been present at a consultation with one 
 of our masters. He arrives, he handles 
 and turns over the sick body. His sci- 
 ence, admirably infallible, examines the 
 tissues, muscles and viscera in order to 
 discover their weakness or malignity.
 
 36 THE DECISION 
 
 The thermometer, pulsometer, stetho- 
 scope and microscope search the poor 
 animal in danger of death. 'What is 
 your age, your ordinary regime, the 
 food taken last evening, the precaution 
 neglected, the excess committed! Of 
 what did your relatives die?' 
 
 "If you please," said Tarragnoz, 
 'cut it short Already I feel ill. " 
 
 "Have no fear. The materialistic 
 scholar will not go further. He leaves 
 his patient forgetting to search the soul, 
 the mistress of the body; often its ex- 
 ecutioner, always its accomplice. He is 
 not concerned in knowing if that soul 
 suffers, in cheering its solitude, in lis- 
 tening to its complaints, its fears, its 
 philfHsh caprices or its senile whims. 
 Denying the existence of the soul, or
 
 THE DECISION 37 
 
 disdaining its aid, he sn*rna a beautiful 
 prescription and starts for the other 
 sick ODOL" 
 
 "He will not see many during the 
 day," objected the lieutenant, "if he is 
 obliged to follow the system which yon 
 indicate. Good-bye to fat bank accounts. 
 Or, indeed, it may be necessary to hare 
 two prices, with or without the super- 
 natural, at the choice of the patient" 
 
 "I give up convincing you," sighed 
 Tucheim, "you do not take seriously 
 either religion or medicine. Let us aee. 
 Is it true that you are an atheist?" 
 
 "Xo. I believe in God as much as 
 the Pope. But if it is necessary to re- 
 cite to you my Pater " 
 
 "What was your age when your mo- 
 ther died!"
 
 38 THE DECISION 
 
 "I scarcely knew her." 
 
 "It is indeed as I thought. I still 
 have mine, and she is a saint." 
 
 "Then it is true that you go to con- 
 fession?" 
 
 "Sometimes, when I am not at the ex- 
 tremity of the desert. If you knew how 
 good it is in certain cases."
 
 Ill 
 
 SEEGEANT WALTER 
 
 The Parisians had soon forgotten 
 Tarragnoz. To the friends of his 
 father he was a fugitive; to his com- 
 rades he was a hot-headed individual; 
 to the world in general he was a savage ; 
 to his special circle, not having his name 
 upon their lists, he was a pariah, purely 
 and simply ignored. Some old women 
 desirous of always being familiar with 
 scandal, kept in good order the legend 
 by which "the poor boy" or "that im- 
 becile," according to the humor of the 
 moment, had gone out of his senses on 
 account of the baroness. 
 39
 
 4Q THE DECISION 
 
 That woman, not only was not igno- 
 rant of the legend (inasmuch as she had 
 created it), but she also found it advis- 
 able to keep it up by means of an epis- 
 tolary intercourse with her pretended 
 victim. The letters of Tarragnoz pro- 
 cured for her two advantages: First, 
 that of being able to exhibit them as 
 convincing documents; next as they 
 found out later that of drawing from 
 them the materials for a romance which 
 she had in her head to write. By the 
 way, she might have had them printed 
 without displacing a line, for they com- 
 promised neither the past nor the pres- 
 ent. In this correspondence with a 
 Parisienne, who was rather handsome 
 and passably intelligent, the exile found 
 a welcome distraction in the desert of
 
 THE DECISION 41 
 
 South-Oranis. To Walter, entirely 
 Helvetian that he was, certain passages 
 from the letters communicated to him 
 by the lieutenant appeared to be an in- 
 comparable treat. However, he did not 
 restrain himself at times from making 
 fun of the horribly "blue-stocking" 
 style of the baroness. 
 
 "I must admit that is somewhat 
 my fault," responded Tarragnoz one 
 day. "I like to incite her emula- 
 tion by assuming the style of these 
 women." 
 
 The sergeant, to tell the truth, was 
 not often in a position to act as judge, 
 for the very good reason that in the let- 
 ters exchanged he himself played an im- 
 portant role. His chief presented him 
 in these terms :
 
 42 THE DECISION 
 
 I have under my orders, as non-commissioned 
 officer, a superb young man who has the profile 
 of a grand lord, the hands of a duchess and the 
 education of a gentleman (which he does his best 
 to conceal). You would be horribly in love with 
 him at the end of a week were you to come here ; 
 happily you are not coming. As for me, I am 
 fast becoming his friend. 
 
 You are saying this is already too much, 
 since there is no proof that I could safely trust 
 him with my watch, though both came from 
 Geneva. Was it a desire for pleasure and curi- 
 osity, as in my case, that brought "Walter to the 
 Legion ? You would not believe me if I affirmed 
 it. Why he came is one of the things we do 
 not know. To ask a legionnaire his history is 
 nearly as bad as asking a beautiful, well-pre- 
 served woman her age one is able to risk this 
 comparison in the face of your twenty years. 
 
 Five or six weeks later another letter 
 showed but little change in the situa- 
 tion: 
 
 I am indeed nearly making an intimate of 
 my friend, contrary to all good sense and in vio-
 
 THE^DECISION 43 
 
 lation of the rules of military etiquette. But 
 if you had seen him fight yesterday ! Naturally 
 it was an insignificant battle, although we lost 
 some of our men. Walter is a hero. So much 
 the worse if he has more or less peccadillos upon 
 his conscience! And then, as a conversational- 
 ist, he fits me like a glove. 
 
 In the evening, when all is quiet, he comes to 
 my small zinc house. By permission, given once 
 for all times, he seats himself when we are alone, 
 takes a cigarette and if he finds a month-old 
 newspaper upon the table he seizes it with fever- 
 ish eagerness. To note one detail, he neglects 
 the first page and runs quickly to the "worldly 
 echoes" and devours them without saying a 
 word and with his forehead creased by a large 
 wrinkle. That he has lived more or less in Paris 
 and frequented our society does not admit of a 
 doubt; but that does not render the mystery 
 more assuring. Sometimes his reading causes 
 him to raise his shoulders or even to utter an 
 impatient oath, for he poses a little as a philoso- 
 pher disgusted with the world. Usually he pru- 
 dently sticks to generalities, but sometimes he 
 forgets himself. The other day, while greatly 
 animated, he mumbled a continuous stream.
 
 44 THE DECISION 
 
 "Nothing to feed a horse with formerly, but 
 now they crush the world with their automobile. 
 Where the devil do they find the money! Poor 
 fool! She has found the time to discover that 
 her husband makes fun of her, but if the happy 
 rivals are summoned as witnesses, how they will 
 laugh. . . . The fashionable tenor! What a 
 bluff ! . . . Finally they are invited to Bon- 
 nelles!" 
 
 Walter certainly knows the persons whom we 
 know. I have set traps for him, but he always 
 escapes in time. Our politics interest him but 
 little and our enthusiasm still less. He declares 
 that the Swiss Republic puts ours to shame and 
 that I appear to have an exaggerated patriotism. 
 It is often past midnight when he leaves my 
 officer's zinc for his subaltern's canvas. One 
 single subject seems to be interdicted in his con- 
 versation: he never speaks of women, which 
 leads to the belief that he regrets one in particu- 
 lar. And yet I doubt it. "Are you a Puritan 
 after the example of our doctor?" I asked him. 
 "Oh, you know everyone is a little Puritan in 
 Geneva," he replied. 
 
 There, dear baroness, is the unlooked-for 
 social affair. I do not speak of my military sur-
 
 THE DECISION 45 
 
 prises, of the crack of the guns causing a hasty 
 rising, of the suspicious cavaliers appearing 
 upon the crests whom it is necessary to scru- 
 tinize closely, of the tardy convoy which makes 
 doubtful the supply of bread for the following 
 day and risks condemning us to dry mutton. 
 Truly, I arn greatly amused, but what would 
 become of me without that other cavalier dou- 
 teux, my friend Walter? 
 
 Already, however, Tarragnoz knew 
 the suffering of jealousy in his friend- 
 ship, for the sergeant had another 
 friend in the person of Doctor Tucheim. 
 Between these two the meetings were 
 much less frequent, but more intimate. 
 Probably they were more confidential. 
 To Walter, according to all the evi- 
 dence, the " parson" was the friend of 
 bad days. When the company remained 
 for some weeks without making an ex- 
 pedition and without the firing of a
 
 46 THE DECISION 
 
 gun, the under-officer became sad and 
 used to have a troubled and pathetic ex- 
 pression. At evening, instead of seek- 
 ing the company of his chief, he wan- 
 dered like a soul in pain around the 
 camp. Then by chance Tucheim would 
 find him there and take him by the arm 
 and lead him to his quarters adjoining 
 the infirmary, and no one knows of what 
 they talked during the next hour. Al- 
 though this slyness displeased Tarrag- 
 noz, neither Tucheim nor Walter made 
 allusion to their mysterious talks, from 
 which Walter invariably came calmer 
 and more disposed to talkativeness with 
 his lieutenant. For this, Tarragnoz was 
 indirectly under obligation to the doc- 
 tor. But the moment came when he was 
 obliged to request the doctor's profes-
 
 THE DECISION 47 
 
 sional assistance. One morning he was 
 taken with unbearable hepatic pains. 
 
 "Is this the first time?" asked Tu- 
 cheim, who was called in the middle of 
 the night. 
 
 "It is the first time for many years." 
 
 "Hum! A'in-Sefra is but little recom- 
 mended for afflictions of that kind. The 
 only thing which will relieve you is an 
 injection of morphine. Hold your 
 arm." 
 
 Some days later, the trouble having 
 disappeared, Tarragnoz said to Tu- 
 cheim: "If a crisis returns when you 
 are visiting an advanced post fifty kilo- 
 metres away, I am going to amuse my- 
 self. In my cantine I have found a syr- 
 inge formerly used by someone. Do 
 me the favor to leave me a little mor-
 
 48 
 
 phine and if necessary I shall be able 
 to pull myself out of the trouble alone." 
 
 Tucheim reflected, scratched his head 
 and then made this reservation : "You 
 must give me a promise, lieutenant, 
 that Walter never knows you possess 
 that infernal drug." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because he will steal it from you. 
 He has a syringe himself. One should 
 always be on guard against a morphin- 
 omac, even after a pretended cure." 
 
 "You believe, then, that your friend 
 is capable of larceny 1 ?" 
 
 "To steal money, no. To steal mor- 
 phine perhaps. I have your promise, 
 have I not?"
 
 IY 
 
 THE COUP DE GRACE 
 
 The writer of these pages (one 
 should be grateful to him for his mod- 
 esty) is not attempting to follow in the 
 footsteps of Homer, who a propos of 
 a simple adventure of a wife, a husband 
 and a lover found material for the 
 Iliad. The telegraph, with or without 
 wires in these later days, has composed 
 bulky volumes in bad but truthful prose 
 upon the exploits of the Foreign Legion 
 without forgetting the other cohorts 
 who battled at its side. In every lan- 
 guage of the world the papers have re- 
 49
 
 50 THE DECISION 
 
 counted the gallantry of the survivors 
 and honored the manes of those who 
 fell. What were the battles upon the 
 plains of Troy compared with these 
 endless marches in the mountains, with 
 the encounters where the cannon thun- 
 dered, where the balls whistled, where 
 death came from far away, invisible, 
 inevitable, even for the combatant who 
 possessed the buckler of Achilles ! This 
 recital does not pretend to be and there 
 is no occasion for its being a glorifica- 
 tion of the heroes whom everyone ad- 
 mires. 
 
 Besides, at the time when the real 
 war with Morocco commenced, Tarrag- 
 noz and Tucheim were no longer in 
 South-Oranis. Sergeant Walter is yet 
 there, even as the god-like Achilles is
 
 THE DECISION 51 
 
 yet upon the sandy shores of Scaman- 
 dre, under the tall hillock of sand which 
 the traveller loves to contemplate. Of 
 the poor cavalier douteux, like so many 
 other men, what remains of him? Not 
 even a knoll of grass, a luxury unknown 
 in the desert. 
 
 Let no one imagine, however, that the 
 personages in this history led peaceful 
 existences. They had already known 
 long expeditions in "the country of 
 thirst " under a sky of fire, ambuscades 
 in the mountains favorably located for 
 treachery, the escorts of the convoys 
 watched for by a famished tribe, the 
 predatory incursions of flocks defended 
 with a furious hatred. On more than 
 one occasion the "parson" sent off. the 
 heavy envelopes bearing upon the ad-
 
 52 THE DECISION 
 
 dress names that no one had ever heard 
 among the men of the detachment. 
 
 One day a little before noon Captain 
 Mataillet, Lieutenant Tarragnoz and 
 Sergeant Walter were presently talk- 
 ing upon the top of a hill from which 
 the captain was searching the horizon 
 with his field-glasses. It was the day 
 for the arrival of the mail, fresh flour, 
 juicy preserves and new cartridges. 
 Doctor Tucheim, starting the evening 
 before to visit a distant post had said, 
 "If I can find some tobacco here to- 
 morrow on my return, I sha'n't care 
 about the other things." 
 
 A cloud of dust arose in the distance. 
 The mouth of Captain Mataillet formed 
 a grimace beneath the field-glasses. 
 
 "A trooper galloping," said he.
 
 THE DECISION 53 
 
 ' ' Surely there is something doing. Lieu- 
 tenant, get a section ready. If that fel- 
 low is hurrying so much just to bring 
 me some vegetables I shall, indeed, be 
 surprised. " 
 
 There was, in fact, something doing. 
 Ten kilometres off the convoy had been 
 attacked, and although the small escort 
 had held firm, the chief desired rein- 
 forcements. Twenty men, ten of whom 
 were mounted, started at once under 
 the charge of Tarragnoz and Walter. 
 They went at a race-horse speed. At 
 each kilometre the horsemen gave up 
 their mounts to the foot soldiers. One 
 hour sufficed to bring the little group 
 to the place of the engagement. 
 
 Previously taught by the Spdhi, Tar- 
 ragnoz now understood the situation.
 
 54 THE DECISION 
 
 The ambuscade, located a little distance 
 from the post, had succeeded in deceiv- 
 ing the chief of the convoy into the be- 
 lief that he had passed the dangerous 
 zone. Before daylight the marauders 
 had leaped over the very uncertain line 
 of the frontier at a point a short dis- 
 tance away, and had been able to hide 
 themselves behind the rocks upon the 
 west slope of the little waterless valley. 
 All at once they bounded out like cats, 
 formed themselves into two groups, and 
 their firing burst out in front and in 
 the rear of the column. Fortunately, 
 our friends in Berlin had never had 
 time to arm these marauders in Euro- 
 pean fashion, so they were unable to 
 preserve their natural shelter and open 
 fire at a distance. Our men very quick-
 
 THE DECISION 55 
 
 ly formed into a square and decimated 
 the enemy by a rapid fire, while the 
 long guns of the Moroccans did but lit- 
 tle damage ; the affair would have ended 
 badly, however, had it not been for the 
 self-sacrifice of the mounted trooper 
 and the good fortune which saved both 
 him and his horse from being shot. 
 
 Tarragnoz, with perfect coolness, 
 thought best to occupy the heights 
 which the enemy had just abandoned 
 and which, besides its advantageous po- 
 sition, cut off the retreat of their assail- 
 ants. When the carbines commenced to 
 speak behind them, the Moroccans un- 
 derstood the danger and seeing that 
 they were confronted with only a few 
 men sought bravely to force a passage ; 
 but they had never had occasion to learn
 
 THE DECISION 
 
 what hardened men, properly armed, 
 could accomplish. Soon the slope was 
 strewn with their corpses. 
 
 Walter, standing near the officers, 
 seemed to be greatly amused. He 
 fired like an amateur, leisurely shoul- 
 dering his gun and announcing the 
 shots. 
 
 "Take the one, lieutenant, who is pre- 
 paring to jump the crevice ; two to one 
 you will bring him down." 
 
 The man fell; then it was another's 
 turn. 
 
 "No, that one is too easy," said Wal- 
 ter, who, except on rare occasions, let 
 fly at once. 
 
 "My compliments," said Tarragnoz 
 to him, "you shoot like a Swiss." 
 
 "Is it not so, lieutenant? Like a
 
 THE DECISION 57 
 
 Swiss, like William Tell. Ah! the 
 swine!" 
 
 He carried his hand to his right side, 
 his face contracted by a sharp pain. He 
 leaned upon his gun to save himself 
 from falling. His chief asked him, 
 "Are you seriously hurt?" 
 
 "I do not think so. There is noth- 
 ing broken. I can move my leg." 
 
 "Then we must not remain here 
 where we are too much exposed." But 
 already the assailants had seen them. 
 
 Shouting their cries of joy, which re- 
 sembled the roar of a beast, the maraud- 
 ers hurled themselves in the direction 
 of the wounded man. Still standing, 
 [Walter fired a last shot. A Moroccan 
 fell, but five or six others were ap- 
 proaching.
 
 58 'THE DECISION 
 
 " Lieutenant," groaned Walter, " ex- 
 cuse me, I am too ill to hold my gun." 
 
 "It is no longer a gun that is needed, 
 my brave fellow. But let us try to gain 
 that shelter where I can defend you 
 better." 
 
 Seeing that the wounded man walked 
 with pain, Tarragnoz took him in 
 his arms. Soon escaping from the 
 whizzing bullets, they reached a pro- 
 jecting rock. In one hand the officer 
 held his own revolver and in the other 
 that of the sergeant. When the demons 
 were within ten paces he opened fire. 
 
 "Save your last two balls for our- 
 selves," cried Walter to him. 
 
 "No need of that yet; without being 
 a Swiss, my aim is passable, besides 
 here are our men."
 
 THE DECISION 59 
 
 At this moment, the Moroccans, dis- 
 concerted by the effect of our arms, 
 thought only of saving themselves and 
 this they were able to do, thanks to the 
 diversion caused by the wounding of 
 the sergeant. Supported by two com- 
 rades Walter was able to reach the con- 
 voy. Upon the back of a mule they 
 placed the wounded man, whose pains 
 were terrible. 
 
 "You do not bleed, it will amount to 
 nothing," they said to him. 
 
 "I would like it better if I bled like 
 a calf," responded he, with his teeth 
 tightly shut, "and I shall have two 
 hours of it before getting to camp." 
 
 Soon they were obliged to take him 
 down from the mule, as the shaking 
 caused him such frightful torture. He
 
 f 6Q THE DECISION 
 
 remained lying upon the ground guard- 
 ed by some of the men. 
 
 "I will return as soon as possible 
 with a stretcher," said his lieutenant, 
 "and I hope the doctor will have re- 
 turned from his inspection." 
 
 Tarragnoz returned with the stretch- 
 er, but without the doctor, to whom 
 he had dispatched a messenger to hasten 
 Ms return. 
 
 The wounded man during the jour- 
 ney could not remain quiet. His right 
 leg, bent back, kept beating the air like 
 a wing, sometimes falling upon the 
 other thigh, sometimes carried outside 
 by a nearly continuous rotary move- 
 ment. He was in the infirmary three 
 hours before the doctor arrived. After 
 the examination and first dressing of
 
 THE DECISION 61 
 
 the wound, Tucheim made his report 
 to his chief. 
 
 "Wound on the right side of the ab- 
 domen. The projectile after having 
 crossed the psoas muscle was deviated 
 upon the iliac bone. The severe pain 
 makes an investigation extremely diffi- 
 cult. Unfortunately, five or six hours 
 passed before the first aid was given to 
 him. It is reasonable to expect an in- 
 fection of the wound to the traumatic 
 psoitis with intense fever " 
 
 "To the devil with your Hebrew 
 words," interrupted Mataillet. "In 
 plain language, you mean that the poor 
 fellow has a bullet in his belly. Are 
 you going to extract it?" 
 
 The doctor turned his eyes and re- 
 sponded, "Not immediately."
 
 62 THE DECISION 
 
 "What? It is outrageous to leave 
 Mm so, if you are thinking of doing it," 
 said the captain. 
 
 4 'I do it for the reason that we are in 
 the middle of the desert, without a hos- 
 pital, without ice and with one hundred 
 and thirteen degrees of heat in the 
 shade. How do you think I can pre- 
 vent the infection of the wound and 
 struggle with the fever?" 
 
 "That's just my luck! The best ser- 
 geant of my company ! Ah ! The dirty 
 scoundrels! Say, lieutenant, I hope 
 they killed a bunch of them." 
 
 "Poor Walter alone killed a num- 
 ber," affirmed Tarragnoz. "This even- 
 ing we shall have a correct account." 
 
 He forgot to speak of the work which 
 he had himself accomplished in pre-
 
 THE DECISION 63 
 
 venting the enemy from beheading his 
 friend, and he asked himself the ques- 
 tion, "Was it really a service that I 
 rendered him?" 
 
 Tucheim regained the infirmary ac- 
 companied by the lieutenant. At the 
 door he requested the latter not to en- 
 ter. 
 
 "I would like to talk five minutes 
 with Walter. To-morrow probably it 
 will be difficult." 
 
 Upon leaving the wounded man he 
 went to the zinc house of Tarragnoz. 
 
 "Walter requested me to inform his 
 family of the engagement of this morn- 
 ing in order that they may know that he 
 fell while doing his duty. Any notes 
 that you can furnish will be useful." 
 
 "You shall have them," promised the
 
 THE DECISION 
 
 lieutenant, "and you can write to Ms 
 family that he fell like a hero. But I 
 fear it is now that he will have need of 
 all his heroism. From here we can hear 
 his cries. It is frightful." 
 
 The sick and wounded men lying in 
 the infirmary were unable to secure a 
 moment's sleep during the night. In 
 the morning Tucheim requested that 
 they furnish him with a special tent 
 to which 'he could carry the wounded 
 sergeant. 
 
 "That is useless, bring him to my 
 house," commanded the lieutenant. 
 
 The doctor objected. "You don't 
 know what awaits you. The unfortun- 
 ate man will have, until death relieves 
 him, terrible tortures which may con- 
 tinue many days."
 
 THE DECISION 65 
 
 "All the more reason. In my 
 house he will be better off than with 
 a simple canvas between him and the 
 sun." 
 
 A half hour later Walter was lying in 
 the clean bed of Tarragnoz. At this 
 moment of the recital, the most realistic 
 writer would have no need of exagger- 
 ating the description of the horrible 
 drama, but the narrator is not ashamed 
 to avow that he lacks the courage. As 
 for Tarragnoz, the torture endured for 
 three days and nights, greatly exceeded 
 that which he was prepared to suffer. 
 In a dismal crescendo the complaints 
 became cries, then howlings of pain to 
 such a degree that within the inclosure 
 of the camp not a man was able to close 
 an eye.
 
 66 THE DECISION 
 
 Tarragnoz had nothing before his 
 eyes now, except an unfortunate mon- 
 ster disfigured by torture. It was with 
 difficulty that he realized that this 
 strange object was his friend Walter. 
 The face, which had become black and 
 blue, made him think of the space re- 
 served upon the canvas by a painter 
 who has indicated only by dark lines the 
 face of his model. Under their dis- 
 tended arches no trace of the eyelids 
 remained, yet the eyes burned with a 
 sinister lustre, contracting themselves 
 and seeming about to disappear in the 
 depths of their orbits. This gave one 
 the impression of the two lights on the 
 rear of a train entering a tunnel, soon 
 to be absorbed in the darkness.
 
 THE DECISION 67 
 
 The twisted arms convulsively beat 
 the air, the hands contracted like the 
 fangs of an animal, and without ceas- 
 ing and with the accurate regularity of 
 a balanced machine, the folded leg re- 
 sembling the pinion of an enormous 
 bird, described that movement of rota- 
 tion, which, more than anything else, 
 drove Tarragnoz half crazy. 
 
 Injections of morphine, given often 
 during the twenty-four hours, allevi- 
 ated in some degree the unfortunate 
 man's suffering, but the quieting effect 
 did not last. Then the cries became 
 hoarse like the barks of a dog that sees 
 its game, and but one word of supplica- 
 tion could be distinguished. 
 
 ' ' Morphine ! Morphine ! ' ' 
 
 Unable to contain himself longer,
 
 68 THE DECISION 
 
 Tarragnoz ran to the doctor's house. 
 
 "For the love of Heaven, come to 
 him and make a puncture. " 
 
 "Not yet, it is but a half hour since 
 the last one." 
 
 On the morning of the third day, the 
 lieutenant insisted, "What if it is only 
 a half hour since the last one? iWhat 
 does that matter?" 
 
 "Lieutenant, I do not want to kill 
 him." 
 
 "My God, why not?" 
 
 "Because human life does not belong 
 to us." 
 
 "You admit, however, that there is 
 no hope." 
 
 "Not the least." 
 
 "And you are going to allow him to 
 suffer?"
 
 THE DECISION 69 
 
 "Non Occidesi Thou shalt not kill! 
 You know what is commanded." 
 
 "Your religion is without bowels of 
 compassion." 
 
 "Do not accuse my religion. I am a 
 doctor. The most atheistic of us would 
 refuse to do what you ask." 
 
 Returning to the wounded man, Tar- 
 ragnoz, from what followed, might well 
 have believed that his conversation with 
 Tucheim had been heard. 
 
 "My lieutenant, kill me, please 
 kill me, kill me!" 
 
 Then this appeal became continuous, 
 sometimes murmured like a prayer, 
 sometimes hurled with imprecations, 
 and during that day Tarragnoz heard 
 nothing else. TO his astonishment Wal- 
 ter no longer asked for morphine.
 
 THE DECISION 
 
 "Lieutenant, you have a revolver, 
 kill me, please kill me, kill me, 
 you coward, how I would like to see 
 you in my place!" 
 
 For Tarragnoz this ordeal, supported 
 during the days of agony and the long 
 nights of insomnia, was dangerous, for 
 the officer admitted no other guide than 
 reason in the maze of human vicissi- 
 tudes. He interrogated his conscience. 
 He pictured to himself Walter con- 
 demned to death and himself command- 
 ant of the platoon of execution. Would 
 it not be his duty to give the order to 
 fire ? And when the condemned man 
 would be brought to earth a corporal 
 would approach and give him the coup 
 T de grace. All that would be legitimate. 
 Would the coup de grace demanded by
 
 71 
 
 this suffering and dying man be less 
 legitimate ? The conscience of Tarrag- 
 noz at least he so believed told him 
 that during all his future life he would 
 never again have the opportunity to ac- 
 complish such a deed of mercy. And 
 before him, before them, another night 
 approached with the visions of a fright- 
 ful hell. 
 
 His resolution was not fully formed, 
 but he wished to prepare himself 
 for whatever might happen. In any 
 event it was not a question of a re- 
 volver. 
 
 " After all, I am not obliged to do 
 anything," thought he. 
 
 Crafty as a malefactor, he entered 
 the house of Tucheim. 
 
 "Doctor, I do not feel well."
 
 72 THE DECISION 
 
 "My poor lieutenant, what is the mat- 
 ter? Where do you suffer?" 
 
 "In the liver. I feel an attack com- 
 ing on and I have no morphine to re- 
 lieve me of the colic. Here is my flask, 
 will you refill it?" 
 
 "I am short myself," responded the 
 doctor, "poor Walter has consumed so 
 much, but I will prepare some. Leave 
 your flask, you shall have it in an 
 hour." 
 
 That night Tarragnoz alone watched 
 with his sergeant. When his watch 
 marked the hour of midnight, the 
 wounded man still crying, "Kill me! 
 kill me ! What wrong have I done that 
 you let me suffer?" Tarragnoz ap- 
 proached the bed. "Do you really wish 
 it, do you really want to die?"
 
 THE DECISION 73 
 
 "Only lend me your revolver." 
 
 "No, I have morphine. You will fall 
 asleep after three injections, stroke by 
 stroke. " 
 
 "Thanks, my lieutenant. ! Ahl It is 
 not too soon give me your hand." 
 
 The trembling fingers rested a second 
 in the convulsed claws of Walter. Then 
 Tarragnoz filled the syringe and pushed 
 the needle. He gave one injection, then 
 a second, then a third; after which he 
 put everything back in order as if he 
 had been a vulgar assassin. Already 
 feeling that he would not have the cour- 
 age to do the thing over again, he 
 awaited the end of the drama, whose 
 denouement he had brought about. The 
 cries of pain continued louder than 
 before, but he had heard that a too
 
 74 THE DECISION 
 
 strong dose does not instantly take ef- 
 fect. 
 
 "More!" cried Walter, "I feel that 
 coming, but not quickly enough more 
 more, lieutenant." 
 
 Paul at once felt his reason, usually 
 so affirmative, stealing away in the face 
 of an accomplished fact. Already he 
 was on the point of running to the house 
 of the "parson" and confessing what 
 he had done. All at once the cries be- 
 came less frequent, less heart-rending, 
 and after so many days and so many 
 nights of uproar, the effect was like a 
 profound silence. The man who had 
 caused this silence bowed his head, not 
 daring to turn toward the bed where 
 something still remained. The grip- 
 ping of two hands upon the shoulders
 
 THE DECISION 75 
 
 made him start; lie looked and shud- 
 dered. Walter was there, his body half 
 out of the bed coverings. He was there 
 with his face disfigured by the gaping 
 holes of the eyes already dead. Once 
 seen, this frightful mask could never 
 be forgotten. The mouth opened with 
 a movement which did not resemble 
 that of a mouth which speaks. Yet, 
 however, these words came out, "If you 
 knew." 
 
 That which Tarragnoz ought to know 
 will never be known, either to him or to 
 any other person. The weight which he 
 supported became heavier and the em- 
 brace tighter. Then the fearless soldier 
 for the first time knew what terror was. 
 He wanted to fly but in his movement 
 he carried with him the body of Wai-
 
 76 
 
 ter, which rolled upon the ground and 
 did not move. The hour of deliverance 
 had come. 
 
 Paul stooped, but was obliged to put 
 forth desperate efforts in order to place 
 upon the funeral bed the man whom he 
 had carried like a child some days be- 
 fore, while the Moroccans' balls whis- 
 tled in their ears. 
 
 Those who have held in their arms a 
 corpse know how heavy death makes 
 the bodv.
 
 "IF YOU 
 
 The grand problem of final immobil- 
 ity which Tarragnoz contemplated, 
 breathless from the physical effort, but 
 still more from the other cause, held 
 nothing new for him. It had always 
 been to him a problem of two unknown 
 factors. In which region hovered at 
 this moment (he believed in its exist- 
 ence) the released soul? Still more, 
 what thought that soul of him who had 
 wrought the deliverance ? Did it know 
 his mind and reproach him for having 
 obeyed? Was it happy gratitude, or 
 was it an implacable curse, which in the 
 77
 
 78 THE DECISION 
 
 future would follow the complaisant 
 perpetrator of an act implored in the 
 agony of tortures ? 
 
 The single fact of the uncertainty 
 caused him poignant surprise. He had 
 felt so sure of the approbation of his 
 conscience. And already the counsellor, 
 which a little earlier had so proudly 
 pretended to be infallible, shuffled and 
 beat about like a witness without con- 
 viction implicated in a bad affair. Tar- 
 ragnoz contemplated his work for 
 whether lawful or forbidden it was his 
 work. He thought: 
 
 "Would you not be able to make a 
 sign?" 
 
 Alas! The spectacle before him, if 
 that was the sign requested, was not re- 
 assuring. From out of the eyes of the
 
 THE DECISION 79 
 
 dead man came a look (if one could 
 call it a look) full of anything save a 
 benediction. Tarragnoz desired to close 
 them, but the task was impossible. One 
 would have said that the eyelids no 
 longer existed. Becoming cowardly, he 
 hastened to cover the face of Walter. 
 Then he called his orderly and sent 
 him to the doctor's house, but the lat- 
 ter at the same moment opened the 
 door. 
 
 "His cries stopped," said the doctor, 
 "and I indeed thought the end had 
 come, but I did not anticipate that it 
 would be so soon. How did he pass 
 away?" 
 
 "His complaints diminished, then 
 ceased altogether, and all at once he left 
 his bed to come to me, commencing a
 
 80 THE DECISION 
 
 phrase, 'If you knew ' but he was 
 not able to finish it ; he fell lifeless and 
 I replaced him upon the bed." 
 
 The doctor examined the body while 
 Tarragnoz, covered with a cold per- 
 spiration, dreaded the question which 
 would follow; but he was soon reas- 
 sured. 
 
 "I have never seen a stranger case," 
 murmured the doctor, speaking to him- 
 self. "Ah, those who do not want to 
 believe in auto-suggestion in the psy- 
 chological power!" 
 
 At another time Tarragnoz would 
 have made fun of this; one may guess 
 whether he had that desire now. 
 
 " Three o'clock in the morning," said 
 the doctor, looking at his watch, "I will 
 write out the facts and notify the cap-
 
 THE DECISION 81 
 
 tain. Poor Walter will not be able to 
 remain with us long." 
 
 Tucheim bowed his head and said the 
 prayer which he always offered in such 
 cases. Then he quickly disappeared, 
 leaving the lieutenant relieved by this 
 absence of suspicion. From this time 
 forward the terrible secret between him- 
 self and the dead was safe. Tarragnoz 
 breathed still more freely when the 
 poor Swiss, long before the sun had 
 reached the meridian, was laid to rest 
 in the sand. When the company had 
 returned to camp after its funeral duty 
 he fell upon his bed overcome with 
 fatigue. He was not, however, able to 
 sleep. Whenever he closed his eyes he 
 immediately saw Walter in front of 
 him, and the bed of torture where Wai-
 
 82 THE DECISION 
 
 ter accompanied the going and coming 
 of his leg with the distracting rhythm 
 of his plaints. 
 
 At sunset Paul said to himself and 
 dozens of men around him thought it 
 "At last we shall be able to sleep." In 
 fact, a heavy sleep deadened him until 
 three o'clock, when suddenly he imag- 
 ined that he felt two hands upon his 
 shoulders and heard a hoarse voice 
 which cried: 
 
 "If you knew!" 
 
 Instantly awake from his nightmare, 
 he endeavored to convince himself that 
 following the emotions of the preceding 
 night the appearance of the phantom 
 was nothing astonishing ; but the needed 
 sleep would not return and at three 
 o'clock on the following night, and every
 
 THE DECISION 83 
 
 night thereafter, the phantom returned. 
 One would indeed think that, for a man 
 of such a temperament, the impression 
 caused by these regular visits could not 
 be a question of physical terror; but 
 precisely because the imagination of the 
 soldier inured to war was not stirred, 
 his judgment worked all the better. 
 This trouble persisting after the accom- 
 plished act made him see and realize 
 its enormity. "If," thought he, "I 
 had in my right mind destroyed the 
 Museum of the Louvre, I should never 
 again know repose. But what are the 
 treasures of all the civilized capitals 
 by the side of this chef-d'oeuvre impos- 
 sible to restore the human life?" 
 
 Some days later, the obsession not 
 having disappeared, he remembered the
 
 THE DECISION 
 
 words of Tucheim spoken to himself 
 
 while examining the body. "He was 
 
 
 
 deceived that day. I have good reason 
 to believe that Walter did not die of 
 auto-suggestion, but he doubtless ap- 
 pears to me because I suggest to myself 
 the idea of his appearance at a fixed 
 hour." 
 
 Paul soon arrived at the point of ask- 
 ing himself if the doctor, adept in the 
 supernatural, would be able to relieve 
 him of the chronic nightmare; but to 
 gain this help it would be necessary to 
 make a confession which was beyond 
 his power. However, with the regular- 
 ity of a clock, the apparition showed 
 itself. Each night at three o'clock he 
 started up in an anguished embrace. 
 Then he awakened and was unable to
 
 THE DECISION 85 
 
 sleep again. Little by little his health 
 became endangered, his forces were no 
 longer sufficiently repaired by sleep. 
 His judgment lost its sway and, ceas- 
 ing to find an explanation of the phe- 
 nomena, he frankly accepted the hy- 
 pothesis of the classical phantom such 
 as Shakespeare showed haunting the 
 walls of Elsinore. This idea, followed 
 by the conviction that he would be thus 
 haunted all his life, threw him into a 
 gloomy despair, and he naturally ar- 
 rived at the first degree of folly the 
 hatred of the phantom. 
 
 The roles having changed, it was no 
 longer Walter who could claim that he 
 was the victim. Walter, for whom Tar- 
 ragnoz had risked his life, was an in- 
 grate, devoid of all sense of justice.
 
 86 THE DECISION 
 
 Had he not during the long hours 
 begged his chief to kill him his chief 
 who had welcomed him to his hut, cared 
 for him and watched over him like a 
 brother ? And certainly, if ever a serv- 
 ice demanded courage, that was indeed 
 the one. Of what could Walter com- 
 plain? He declared that he had ob- 
 tained from many of his comrades their 
 promise to give him the coup de grace 
 upon the battlefield if, fatally wounded, 
 he was in danger of falling into the 
 hands of the Moroccans. With all their 
 savagery, the Moroccans could never 
 invent for him such cruel and long-con- 
 tinued torture. But in this unfortunate 
 disagreement of two old friends one 
 aggravating fact was certain, Tarrag- 
 noz had not the advantage of being able
 
 THE DECISION 87 
 
 to close his door to Walter. Besides, 
 the phantom added malice and indis- 
 cretion to his work ; to confuse him, the 
 unhappy Paul fixed his reveille at half 
 past two in order to have his eyes wide 
 open at the fated moment, but it was in 
 vain; the phantom changed its habits 
 and came at two, or waited until Paul 
 was again asleep. 
 
 "Lieutenant," said Tucheim to him 
 one day, "you ought to request a sick 
 leave, and pardon me for adding that, 
 if you do not ask for one, I believe my 
 conscience will oblige me to give the 
 order." 
 
 "I am not sick," quickly responded 
 the officer. 
 
 "You soon will be, I have noticed 
 you; believe me, you should go away
 
 88 THE DECISION 
 
 while you are able to travel on horse- 
 back. If you are taken down you know 
 we shall not be able to offer you a sleep- 
 ing car." 
 
 "What do you think is the matter 
 with me?" 
 
 "Cerebral hypertension. Do you 
 sleep well?" 
 
 Paul, dreading the outcome of the in- 
 terrogatory if he answered truthfully, 
 told a lie to the doctor for the second 
 time. 
 
 "I sleep wonderfully well, but I have 
 no appetite." 
 
 "Are there any indications of liver 
 trouble? You still have the morphine, 
 have you not?" 
 
 "Certainly, certainly," affirmed 
 Paul; he felt himself blushing.
 
 THE DECISION 
 
 "You must take a furlough. The 
 climate of South-Oranis is against 
 you. You must change places and 
 see the world. The painful end of 
 the poor sergeant has affected your 
 nerves and that is not surprising. You 
 were in the first row at the per- 
 formance. " 
 
 "Has anyone discovered his family?" 
 demanded the officer to change the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 "Yes, I have corresponded with her, 
 but without entering into the details of 
 his last moments." 
 
 "I will make my official request for 
 a leave of absence," declared Paul 
 brusquely. 
 
 His superior officer did not show him 
 the medical report joined to his de-
 
 90 THE DECISION 
 
 mand, where it mentioned a " fixed 
 idea," which was likely to lead to a 
 grave mental derangement. When the 
 day of his departure arrived the adieux 
 of Tucheim to his lieutenant were al- 
 most pathetic. 
 
 "We may never meet again, but no 
 matter what happens do not forget the 
 hours we have passed together here in 
 this corner of the desert." 
 
 "That will not be likely," replied 
 Tarragnoz. 
 
 "And if you ever have need of me for 
 any service whatever you know they 
 call me the ' Parson,' and perhaps you 
 even realize that I somewhat deserve 
 that surname." 
 
 Thus, the doctor's speech, begun with 
 serious emotion, ended in pleasantry.
 
 THE DECISION 91 
 
 At least no one could doubt his good 
 will, and it was that which grimly de- 
 cided Tarragnoz never willingly to see 
 again Rudolph Tucheim or Algeria.
 
 VI 
 
 COUNTESS DE LA GUERNERIE 
 
 The spectre forgot to visit Paul dur- 
 ing the first night of the journey and 
 during those which followed. The ef- 
 fect of this moral deliverance upon his 
 physical condition did not fail to mani- 
 fest itself. It was a man almost cheer- 
 ful and in good condition who set his 
 feet in the capital toward the middle 
 of springtime, when Paris is the most 
 charming place here below. 
 
 Tarragnoz believed himself cured of 
 
 his disgust for civilization after so long 
 
 a sojourn in a savage country. Not 
 
 having entered a theatre during all the 
 
 92
 
 THE DECISION 93 
 
 preceding season, the representations of 
 domestic infidelity appeared to him 
 nearly new. He had no desire to yawn 
 at the Hippodrome, of which he had 
 formerly said, "It is the promenade of 
 the society women, just as the Folies- 
 Bergere is the promenade of the 
 others." 
 
 The nymphs of the "Salon de Pein- 
 ture" continued to sponge themselves 
 in the nickeled tubs, instead of hiding 
 their bath, as in the time of his father, 
 in a mysterious corner of the crystal- 
 line lake; but this abuse of the artistic 
 civilization caused him to laugh rather 
 than to become indignant. He resolved 
 to laugh at everything ridiculous, al-~ 
 though there was nothing in fact to 
 make one weep.
 
 94 THE DECISION 
 
 Unable, as might be expected, to en- 
 dure life at a hotel, Tarragnoz took an 
 apartment which especially attracted 
 him by the comfortable appearance of 
 the bedroom. He had no intention of 
 giving receptions. 
 
 "At last," said he, in settling himself 
 between the sheets, "I am going to 
 sleep in a real bed and in my bed." 
 
 His sleep was delicious until three 
 o'clock. Then the phantom which he 
 believed he had left at the frontiers of 
 Morocco, appeared, placed its crooked 
 hands upon him, stared at him with its 
 monster-like eyes and barked at him the 
 cabalistic words, "If you knew!" 
 
 Why, unless by detestable malice, had 
 the phantom chosen this moment for its 
 return? Paul forgot, perhaps, in an-
 
 THE DECISION 95 
 
 grily asking himself this question, the 
 flask of morphine which, on finding it 
 the evening before at the bottom of his 
 traveling bag, he had precipitately 
 thrown into the street. One thought 
 and only one came to his mind. The 
 cure which he had believed to be com- 
 plete was a failure, and after this dis- 
 appointment he was without hope. The 
 phantom was fastened to him for the 
 rest of his life; his future would be 
 without pleasure and without charm. 
 At times the apparition seemed to ex- 
 perience some lassitude, but that was 
 but little less insupportable. Tarrag- 
 noz never went to bed without asking 
 himself, "Will he come?" 
 
 Paul was able, however, to adopt cer- 
 tain precautions against the obsession
 
 96 THE DECISION 
 
 more conveniently in Paris than in the 
 desert. He. arranged to be awakened 
 at the hour when the phantom was ex- 
 pected. Walter in such cases remained 
 invisible, but Paul, in spite of himself, 
 watched for its coming, believing that 
 he would hear its light rap at the door 
 and its discreetly murmured excuse, 
 "Ah, pardon me, you have company, 
 I will return!" 
 
 However, all of his comrades envied 
 his good fortune. At the expiration of 
 his furlough and at the moment when 
 he was wondering how to escape re- 
 turning to Algeria, an old friend of his 
 father, newly promoted to a general- 
 ship, selected him for his aide de camp. 
 The general in question, detached from 
 the staff, was a member of a com-
 
 THE DECISION 97 
 
 mittee of officers acting in Paris, so 
 that Tarragnoz was able not only to 
 enjoy his residence there but to have 
 considerable liberty. Finally, by vir- 
 tue of his third galloon, he became one 
 of the youngest captains in the army. 
 
 All this time when the wind of pros- 
 perity filled his sails, his moral cure 
 seemed infallible, at least his sufferings 
 were greatly ameliorated. The phan- 
 tom, as if occupied elsewhere, rarely 
 visited him. Paul felt a decrease in 
 that which Tucheim called his "cerebral 
 hypertension," but as a natural sequel 
 to the enfeeblement of certain images, 
 the act committed a year previous 
 seemed no longer the deed of a libera- 
 tor, even in the eyes of the one who had 
 performed it.' The excuse itself dim-
 
 98 THE DECISION 
 
 inished and Paul simply became in the 
 light of his own reason a man circulat- 
 ing in Paris with a murder upon his 
 conscience. 
 
 For a person fleeing from a monoton- 
 ous existence, such a situation would 
 have the merit of being anything but 
 commonplace, but Paul was not the sort 
 of a man to shut his eyes in the face of 
 trouble, and he was barred by tempera- 
 ment from all confidences. He soon be- 
 came morose and gloomy to the point 
 of profound melancholy. After a year 
 of this regime his affection of the liver 
 reappeared, and the attack this time 
 was severe. The doctor (it was not Tu- 
 cheim) ordered him to Vichy. Paul 
 begged for mercy. 
 
 "Could you not order something else ?
 
 THE DECISION 99 
 
 Bear in mind that this will be my third 
 cure at Vichy, and I despise the place. 
 I shall find there all the colonial army 
 which I wish to avoid, and still worse, I 
 shall meet the entire civil colony. Fin- 
 ally, dying of ennui, I shall gamble, I 
 shall amuse myself, I shall live high and 
 get to bed at two o'clock in the morn- 
 ing. Vichy offers to a sick person, I 
 have never known why, a complete col- 
 lection of all the pleasures which ruin 
 the health of a vigorous man." 
 
 "Then, since you are a model of vir- 
 tue, I offer you the model of serious wa- 
 ters Carlsbad. It is a place where the 
 municipal regulations prohibit the vis- 
 itor from recklessly, or otherwise, 
 amusing himself, eating what is injur- 
 ious, going to bed later than nine
 
 100 THE DECISION 
 
 o'clock, or rising later than six, when 
 the orchestra lets loose with noise suffi- 
 cient to wake the dead." 
 
 "Why have the other doctors never 
 mentioned Carlsbad?" 
 
 " Where is your patriotism 1 ? Be- 
 sides, the Parisians would not be able 
 to remain there a week. Think of it! 
 No pretty women, no roulette, no all- 
 night restaurants, no cafes!, Do you 
 speak German?" 
 
 "No, but I shall go there all the 
 same." 
 
 Four or five days later Paul arrived 
 at Carlsbad, instead of at Vichy, where 
 everyone went, and the latter fact 
 caused him the first satisfaction; be- 
 sides, he felt sure of not knowing any- 
 one there and of being able to keep to
 
 THE DECISION 101 
 
 himself and live at his ease, not pre- 
 tending through politeness to be enter- 
 tained one of the odious tortures of 
 civilization. 
 
 At the Hotel Savoy, which in Carls- 
 bad represents the modern corruption 
 in the midst of the prevailing auster- 
 ity, they gave him sugary and very good 
 food, and they extinguished but few of 
 the lights before eleven o'clock. Fur- 
 thermore, contrary to the predictions 
 of his doctor, two Paris ladies, recog- 
 nized as such at sight, dined at a nearby 
 table. They were elegant, each one ac- 
 cording to her age, and their beauty 
 was so similar that the family relation 
 could be easily guessed. Time had 
 spared the face and figure of the 
 mother, limiting itself to covering her
 
 102 THE DECISION 
 
 hair with a bed of snow. No one would 
 believe her to be over fifty. By con- 
 trast, her daughter, not less beautiful 
 but of a more serious physiognomy, 
 seemed to have reached her thirtieth 
 year. It was she, judging by her Kurge- 
 maesse menu, who came to take the 
 Carlsbad cure. Paul Tarragnoz was a 
 fine observer and took all these notes 
 in ten minutes. 
 
 With an equally sure glance, he real- 
 ized that his neighbors were not the sort 
 of persons to whom one could address 
 a word, no matter how respectful, under 
 any pretence whatever. It was appar- 
 ent that their company was mutually 
 satisfactory, and they intended to keep 
 to themselves. This perfect ignoring 
 of a neighbor would have decided any-
 
 THE DECISION 103 
 
 one but Tarragnoz against trying to fol- 
 low the matter further, but we already 
 know his horror of the commonplace, 
 that is to say, of doing the conventional 
 thing. 
 
 "Yes, ladies," said he to himself, "I 
 know very well what you are thinking 
 at this moment. Without once turning 
 your eyes in my direction, you are 
 aware that I have looked at you and 
 that I find you beautiful. l A man from 
 Paris thrown upon a deserted island 
 with two Parisiennes of the first qual- 
 ity ! Of course, he is racking his brains 
 to find a way to meet us and of course 
 we shall have to give him a little dash 
 of cold water.' Well, ladies, that is 
 where you deceive yourselves, you have 
 no need of a hydropathic apparatus. I
 
 104 THE DECISION 
 
 shall salute you very politely on the 
 stairway and in the vestibule, because 
 you are my compatriots, and that is 
 all!" 
 
 This severe modus vivendi did not 
 prevent Paul from inquiring the names 
 of the two handsome ladies. They 
 were, as he had foreseen, mother and 
 daughter, the latter the Countess de la 
 Guernerie, the other simply Madame 
 iVilledieu. Halim, the superb Egyptian 
 with the ebony face, who watched at the 
 portals of this "Louvre," completed 
 this information with some details of 
 small interest: "They had arrived 
 from Paris the preceding week with but 
 little baggage ; their apartment was se- 
 cured in advance at the Villa Cleopatra, 
 a dependency of the hotel where the
 
 THE DECISION 105 
 
 price is higher ; their femme de chambre 
 (you should have seen the grimace of 
 Halim) was at least fifty and not at 
 all agreeable." Halim believed they 
 were both widows; they saw no 
 one; they arose early to drink the 
 waters, and drove out in a carriage 
 each afternoon; returning to their 
 rooms after dinner, they did not again 
 leave. 
 
 This was the same sort of life that 
 Paul led, except that he had no femme 
 'de chambre and went out regularly 
 afoot. He walked for hours through 
 the pine forests, whose paths with seats, 
 with cafes, indeed even with chapels, 
 mounted toward the summit, descended 
 to the river, winding round hills, with- 
 out ever bringing the promenader back
 
 106 THE DECISION 
 
 to the same point. End to end 
 they would have extended many- 
 miles. 
 
 The first time that he bowed to the 
 two ladies in the garden which separ- 
 ated the Villa from the larger estab- 
 lishment, they responded with a marked 
 difference in their movements. The 
 younger appeared as if acknowledging 
 the receipt of a printed invitation, such 
 as one sends to everybody; the other 
 added a look of rapid and satisfied in- 
 telligence which simply meant, "Cer- 
 tainly we are from the same country 
 and I see that you have good manners. 
 Please continue." 
 
 For some days matters ran thus. 
 Madame Villedieu sometimes bowed 
 first in the English fashion, but as to the
 
 THE DECISION 107 
 
 countess, it was clear that she could not 
 tell if the young man who had removed 
 his hat when meeting her had a blond 
 moustache or black whiskers. 
 
 "Is this affectation or prudery f" 
 asked Tarragnoz to himself. Upon con- 
 sidering it thoroughly, he was forced 
 to admit that it was simply indifference. 
 The countess seemed to be deprived of 
 the faculty of interesting herself in any 
 subject whatever, animate or inanimate. 
 iWhen about to dine, to the question of 
 her mother who studied the menu, the 
 observer could divine from a distance 
 that her reply was always the same : "It 
 is immaterial to me." And when in- 
 stalled in the landau by the side of her 
 mother, to the question, "Where shall 
 we go to-day?" Tarragnoz heard her
 
 108 THE DECISION 
 
 respond, " Wherever you like, mam- 
 
 ma. >: 
 
 The full sonorous voice, pitched rath- 
 er low, did not seem to be that of a com- 
 plaining person, suffering in body and 
 lamenting someone deceased. Halim 
 must be deceived in believing her to be 
 a widow. Monsieur de la Guernerie 
 was doubtless a husband neither good 
 nor bad, and she, like so many others, 
 was neither adored nor detested ; prob- 
 ably his wife used to reply to him, "It 
 is immaterial to me" at the table, in 
 the carriage, or anywhere. Tarragnoz 
 fancied he could hear him say, "My 
 dear, shall I accompany you to Bohe- 
 mia or remain here to open the hunt- 
 ing season?" and her reply, "It is im- 
 material to me, my friend." It was
 
 THE DECISION 109 
 
 more than probable that this proud 
 beauty was neither broken-hearted nor 
 a victim of delusion; she was simply a 
 young woman bored with herself. 
 
 Putting himself in the count's place, 
 he found her exasperating; upon his 
 own account it was of course no conse- 
 quence whether she was cold or loving. 
 But how could the husband prefer the 
 company of young partridges to the 
 company of such an attractive young 
 woman? In all justice she was worthy % 
 of a husband who would take some 
 pains to draw her out of her torpor. 
 
 This question formed itself in the 
 mind of Tarragnoz one day, when he 
 saw Madame de la Guernerie leave her 
 carriage to drink some milk at a rustic 
 cafe where he himself was seated at one
 
 110 THE DECISION 
 
 of the tables. The extraordinary splen- 
 dor of the mountain sun gave to the 
 mass of her golden brown hair an un- 
 real character, like the halo of a saint. 
 But the dark brown eyes, sometimes 
 feasting upon the surrounding yerdure, 
 sometimes following with greediness 
 the velvety cascade of milk as it was 
 poured into the glass, the nostrils 
 opened to pine breezes, the red lips, 
 such as painters never give to mouths 
 created specially for celestial joys all 
 of these indicated anything but a saint ; 
 yet the noble elevation of her thoughts 
 and habits showed in all her person. 
 
 Madame de la Guernerie and her 
 mother evidently believed themselves 
 alone in the little restaurant to which 
 few persons came as the season was
 
 THE DECISION 111 
 
 nearly ended. Tarragnoz, hidden by; 
 the ivy curtain which separated their 
 arbors, observed all the motions of the 
 young woman. In order to crumble a 
 little black bread into her cream she 
 slowly removed her gloves and, like 
 beautiful birds given their liberty, her 
 rosy fingers stretched themselves, 
 sparkling like mother of pearl. She 
 wore no jewels. A little apple-cheeked 
 girl of ten years came up to her offering 
 some wild flowers. For the first time 
 Paul saw her smile. He smiled himself 
 at the hackneyed comparison that came 
 to his mind. It was like the sparkle of 
 snow in the bosom of a purple cloud; 
 but later, on descending the slopes al- 
 ready in the shadow, he asked himself, 
 "Does she never smile except -in the
 
 112 THE DECISION 
 
 woods?" In fact, when he saw her two 
 hours later under the lights of the Sa- 
 voy, she was more exasperating than 
 ever with her appearance of universal 
 indifference. 
 
 The next day while Tarragnoz was 
 smoking in the vestibule, he saw the two 
 ladies cross to their carriage, where the 
 Egyptian negro helped them to their 
 seats. At the old Versailles form of 
 salute which Tarragnoz gave them, they 
 responded each according to her habit. 
 The carriage departed and Halim re- 
 turned. 
 
 "Eine day to drive up to Stephanie 
 Warte!" 
 
 Halim had thrown this remark at the 
 captain as he passed him, with no other 
 motive than an inborn need of saying
 
 THE DECISION 113 
 
 something, no matter what, to someone, 
 no matter who. The captain struggled 
 for five minutes against the desire to do 
 the most commonplace act in the world. 
 Finally he took his hat and left the ho- 
 tel, and when he was certain that Halim 
 could no longer see him, he hailed an 
 Einspaenner, figuring that, notwith- 
 standing the short cut open to pedes- 
 trians, the landau of the ladies would 
 reach its destination ahead of him. 
 
 "Stephanie Warte, Kutscher; ge- 
 schivind." 
 
 These were all the German words he 
 knew. 
 
 Stephanie Warte is a semi-feudal 
 tower, surmounting a cafe, and over- 
 looking all the valley at Tepl and its 
 mantle of forests. The ascension of two
 
 114 THE DECISION 
 
 thousand feet is sufficiently long even 
 in a carriage. It was intensely hot, and 
 Paul seeing the horse white with foam 
 congratulated himself on not being 
 obliged to walk, at the same time com- 
 passionately regretting that he had not 
 taken a double team. When he arrived 
 at the cafe it was the hour for serving 
 coffee and fifty or more promenaders 
 were upon the esplanade; but among 
 those at the tables he perceived neither 
 the countess nor her mother. He had, 
 however, recognized the coachman 
 smoking his porcelain pipe in the sta- 
 bles. In looking more carefully he dis- 
 covered the two ladies some distance 
 away in the crowd, leaning upon the 
 parapet of a little terrace from which a 
 grand view spread out before them.
 
 THE DECISION 115 
 
 This time Madame de la Guernerie did 
 not smile. 
 
 Tarragnoz, hidden behind the trees, 
 saw her clasp her hands with a passion- 
 ate gesture of admiration, while her 
 mother's face brightened up. 
 
 "Decidedly, her preferences are for 
 nature," thought the young man. 
 
 How long they would have remained, 
 one contemplating nature, the other 
 contemplating the young lady herself, 
 may be imagined. A clap of thunder 
 echoed many times in the neighboring 
 gorges put an end to their contempla- 
 tions. The countess, not in the least 
 afraid, seemed delighted to have this 
 picturesque element added to the tab- 
 leau. Her mother, more prudent, led 
 her away from the esplanade, which
 
 116 THE DECISION 
 
 was already vacated by the more cau- 
 tious ones. At the stables the captain 
 again met his two compatriots. The 
 horses had just been harnessed to their 
 landau, but the shafts of Paul's Eins~ 
 paenner remained empty. A groom ap- 
 proached Tarragnoz and, with the ges- 
 ture of a tragedian, spoke to him in 
 German. 
 
 "Do you think that I can understand 
 that?" said the captain, considerably 
 disturbed as he saw the first drops of a 
 heavy shower falling. 
 
 Madame Villedieu, already installed 
 with her daughter under the bonnet of 
 the carriage, beckoned to him to come 
 nearer. 
 
 "Monsieur," translated she, "your 
 horse is rolling upon the straw with an
 
 THE DECISION 117 
 
 attack of colic. Probably they gave 
 him water too cold." 
 
 Tarragnoz made a low bow. 
 
 "Thanks, Madame. When my horse 
 is well, if he gets well, I will inform 
 him of your gracious interest." 
 
 The speech of the young humorist 
 was ludicrous under the circumstances. 
 Madame de la Guernerie almost smiled. 
 As for her mother, she understood that 
 Tarragnoz found her more sympathetic 
 to beasts than to men. To read between 
 the lines is one of the admirable gifts 
 of the French language, especially when 
 it is a French woman who reads. 
 
 "Monsieur," said she, "my daughter 
 and I do not intend to allow a com- 
 patriot to descend the mountain on foot 
 in such a shower; do we, Valentine?"
 
 118 THE DECISION 
 
 "As you like, mamma." 
 
 "The invitation is not pressing," 
 thought Tarragnoz, "but, anyway, her 
 4 It is immaterial to me,' would have 
 been worse." It rained in torrents. He 
 took his place in the landau, making 
 the usual excuses for the inconvenience 
 that he caused, although he caused none 
 whatever. 
 
 His good humor disappeared as he 
 felt himself ridiculous in the eyes of the 
 two women in this role of a small, deli- 
 cate young man, picked up along the 
 road to prevent his taking cold; but it 
 was to himself that Tarragnoz felt 
 most ashamed. He possessed precisely 
 that kind of refined self-respect to 
 which an inward derision is the least 
 supportable of all. He had intended
 
 THE DECISION 119 
 
 to astonish, and perhaps spite these two 
 women by his cold reserve, and now 
 lie had been obliged to accept their serv- 
 ice as interpreters, thankfully to make 
 use of their carriage; in fact, to place 
 himself under obligation to them when 
 he really wished to give them a lesson. 
 
 Thus placed, their companion of the 
 route could hardly be expected to shine 
 as a conversationalist, although under 
 the circumstances the least he could do 
 was to amuse them for an hour. While 
 he sought for a subject other than the 
 rain, the mud, or the surprising changes 
 of weather in the Valley of Tepl, it was 
 Madame Villedieu again who relieved 
 him from his embarrassment. 
 
 "Monsieur," said she, "Carlsbad 
 seems to bore you considerably."
 
 120 THE DECISION 
 
 "No more than I anticipated, Ma- 
 dame. I was warned by my doctor, who 
 gave me the choice between Vichy and 
 the waters of Bohemia." 
 
 " Just the same with us, but if I had 
 been a man I would have preferred 
 Vichy, where the pill of treatment is 
 disguised in the preserves of the Ca- 
 
 sino." 
 
 " Horrible mixture! When I was a 
 child, after my cod liver oil they gave 
 me a mint lozenge, and the result was 
 that without converting me to the rem- 
 edy I had a horror of the bonbon. I 
 ought also to say that Carlsbad has 
 given me a delightful surprise. The 
 surroundings of the place, beautiful 
 beyond comparison, possess an inexplic- 
 able charm, restful and purifying,
 
 THE DECISION 121 
 
 which even the same scenery in our 
 country would not have." 
 
 Madame de la Guernerie, who had 
 not yet spoken, said with a tranquil and 
 deep voice, "It is true, and I have often 
 asked myself why it is so." 
 
 "Because the human element plays a 
 great role in nature. These Bohemians 
 are an honest and conscientious race. 
 The roadmen who keep the pretty roads 
 in such good order work faithfully 
 during their short day. Have you ever 
 seen our equipages of the Bois de Bou- 
 logne give way to any work whatever? 
 My doctor here remained with me for 
 half an hour in order to decide if I 
 ought to take a glass of water more or 
 a glass the less. The street sweepers 
 take a thousand cares not to allow a
 
 122 THE DECISION 
 
 single microbe to escape. I love the 
 Austrians because for them conscience 
 still exists." 
 
 "You believe in it, then, Monsieur?" 
 
 "Yes, Madame, for the same painful 
 reason that sometimes makes me believe 
 in too narrow shoes. Willing or un- 
 willing, they make themselves felt." 
 
 "I have met men who have seemed to 
 know where they could be procured 
 sufficiently large," said Madame de la 
 Guernerie. 
 
 She relapsed into silence, and Ma- 
 dame Villedieu changed the subject by 
 asking the young man, "Are you the 
 son or the nephew of the celebrated 
 painter?" 
 
 "I am his son, but not his successor. 
 I belong to the army."
 
 THE DECISION 128 
 
 "Where is your garrison?" 
 
 "In Paris, Madame, if one might call 
 the ante-chamber of a general, whose 
 aide de camp I am, a garrison. He is 
 detached from the staff and is some- 
 what out of health, and that gives me 
 the time to be ill myself, as you ob- 
 serve." 
 
 Thereupon they talked of Paris, 
 where these ladies spent only three 
 months in the winter, and Madame 
 Villedieu remarked, "At the first signs 
 of spring my daughter drags me to the 
 country." 
 
 In listening to this badly disguised 
 complaint, Paul understood that the 
 mother and daughter were not always 
 in accord. 
 
 "As for me, I adore Paris for a
 
 124 THE DECISION 
 
 couple of weeks since I have passed 
 two years away from it." 
 
 "That would be a history of many 
 infatuations, if frankness were less 
 known in the world," remarked the 
 countess. 
 
 "Good!" thought the captain, "that 
 was addressed to our rascal of a hus- 
 band. Is it necessary, then, to believe 
 that in the eyes of her lawful owner a 
 woman ceases to be beautiful so 
 quickly?" 
 
 Placed opposite to Madame de la 
 Guernerie for an hour, Paul learned to 
 appreciate her beauty as a lesson which 
 one never forgets.
 
 yn 
 
 THE MEEKSCHAUM PIPE 
 
 The next day, having turned down 
 the corner of one of his cards, he 
 crossed the garden and rang the bell 
 of the Villa Cleopatra when he knew 
 the ladies were not at home. He thus 
 very correctly thanked them for the 
 kindness shown him, leaving them to 
 make the advance if they desired to 
 continue the acquaintance. The same 
 evening, as he was finishing his dinner, 
 Madame Villedieu motioned to him to 
 come to her table. 
 
 "I regret," said she, "that I missed 
 your call. As we leave Carlsbad so 
 125
 
 126 THE DECISION 
 
 soon, I propose making amends at once 
 if you have no more amusing project 
 for this evening." 
 
 Shortly afterward he entered the ele- 
 gant, flowery, well-lighted drawing- 
 room where Madame Villedieu alone 
 awaited him a fact which changed his 
 good humor into sulkiness. Madame de 
 la Guernerie on account of fatigue had 
 retired to her room. 
 
 "As for me," confessed the mother, 
 "I love to sit up late. I read, I em- 
 broider, or I have a game of solitaire 
 when my daughter is not here, for she 
 cannot endure the sight of cards." 
 
 "I have already noticed," said Tar- 
 ragnoz, smiling, "that your tastes and 
 those of your daughter are not always 
 the same."
 
 THE DECISION 127 
 
 "Since the death of her husband 
 she has carried her retirement from 
 the world to an exaggerated length; I 
 deplore it, if only for the sake of 
 her health. But you, Monsieur, 
 are you not something of a misan- 
 thrope?" 
 
 "Oh, Madame! that is a big word. I 
 believe that my character is simply 
 badly formed. I always see the bad 
 side of things, and that defect makes a 
 human being detestable. I have even 
 the great misfortune of seeing my own 
 faults and of knowing that my neigh- 
 bors also discover them. To imagine 
 that one is perfect and admired by 
 everyone is the secret of absolute felic- 
 ity." 
 
 "And of absolute egotism."
 
 128 THE DECISION 
 
 1 Goodness, Madame, they are all 
 
 one." 
 
 "Have you no friends of your own 
 age to draw you into their pleasures'?" 
 
 "My generation is not a gay one, 
 Madame. You are too near to it not 
 to understand. As to friendship I 
 know of nothing in the world more 
 beautiful or more useless. You have 
 doubtless many friends ready to give up 
 their life for you, have they ever been 
 able to relieve you of a headache ? Have 
 you ever been able to prevent them 
 from catching cold?" 
 
 "Yes," replied the charming woman, 
 with a malicious light in her eyes, "I 
 have been able to offer them a place in 
 my carriage at the moment of a sud- 
 den shower."
 
 THE DECISION 129 
 
 "But please remember that the un- 
 fortunate man welcomed by you had not 
 the honor of being your friend, and 
 that gives me the right to repeat the 
 question 'What is the use of friend- 
 ship f'" 
 
 "Sometimes by bad advice to cause 
 ruin, sorrow and death!" responded a 
 voice vibrating and deep, behind him. 
 
 The young man turned. From a por- 
 tiere, pushed aside by her beautiful 
 bare arm, Madame de la Guernerie 
 swayed like an apparition which might 
 be called tragic, if the light mauve satin 
 of a peignoir with large sleeves, the 
 golden brown of the hair and the won- 
 derful complexion with matchless brown 
 eyes, were the ordinary attributes of the 
 heroine of a tragedy. The visitor un-
 
 130 THE DECISION 
 
 derstood that from her boudoir ad- 
 joining the drawing-room she had fol- 
 lowed the conversation. He might have 
 felt flattered that she desired to join 
 them, but the words which had just fal- 
 len from that beautiful mouth caused 
 him a painful emotion, the more so as 
 they were unexpected. Had she also 
 upon her conscience the death of a 
 friend? 
 
 He arose, stammering some polite 
 phrase, to which Madame de la Guer- 
 nerie responded only by extending her 
 hand. She was already seated. 
 
 " Monsieur," said she, becoming sud- 
 denly calm, "in talking philosophy with 
 my mother you deceive yourself from 
 the beginning. She is the young and 
 charming one; I am serious, which is
 
 THE DECISION 131 
 
 doubtless a hateful defect in your eyes, 
 but I no longer pretend to be perfect." 
 
 The young man understood that none 
 of his remarks had been lost. "I be- 
 lieve that were women perfect they 
 would perhaps become detestable," af- 
 firmed he, a little vexed. " Thank good- 
 ness, I have never known that distress- 
 ing situation." 
 
 Soon the young woman appeared to 
 be tired and said good-night to her 
 mother. "Do you play piquet?" she 
 asked Tarragnoz. "Yes? Very well, 
 come to-morrow and have a game with 
 mamma. She is here on my account, 
 and the least I can do is to arrange 
 some pleasure for her." 
 
 The captain's night was greatly dis- 
 turbed. The phantom, whose appear-
 
 132 THE DECISION 
 
 ance had been less regular of late, 
 mixed itself up in a horribly displeas- 
 ing manner with the mauve satin and 
 glorious hair of a living and charming 
 young woman. The day following 
 seemed long to him. Already upon all 
 the sodded slopes which surround Carls- 
 bad one could hear the noise of carpets 
 beaten, like the rolling of a drum. This 
 announced the early closing of the pen- 
 sions and hotels. 
 
 After dinner Paul went to the Villa 
 Cleopatra. 
 
 "Come," said the countess pleas- 
 antly; "commence your game. As I 
 am a serious person I will keep to my 
 thoughts." 
 
 "The moment has arrived when I 
 must admit to you a deception," said
 
 THE DECISION 133 
 
 the captain. "I have never touched a 
 card in my life." 
 
 "It is a good point," declared the 
 countess. "Then you can falsify at 
 times?" 
 
 "I would like to see the hero capable 
 of admitting that he does not play 
 vpiquet, knowing that two amiable 
 women would at once respond, 'In that 
 case, dear sir, you are good for noth- 
 ing; remain at home'." 
 
 "There is yet time to give you that 
 advice." 
 
 "But I am good for something. You 
 have said so yourself. I can talk phil- 
 osophy." 
 
 "Eh! Let us have a lecture. That is 
 the proper thing just now." 
 
 "Give me a subject."
 
 134 THE DECISION 
 
 "The art of being happy," suggested 
 Valentine de la Guernerie, raising her 
 beautiful eyebrows. 
 
 "Alas! I am badly equipped for that. 
 It would be as reasonable to ask you to 
 give us a talk on the art of being plain/' 
 
 "Mamma," bewailed the countess, 
 "what a pity it is that you left your al- 
 bum at home!" 
 
 Her words did not exceed in irony the 
 limit for a woman properly brought up, 
 but Paul understood that they made fun 
 of the madrigal of which he was proud. 
 
 "Pardon me," said he, trying not to 
 show himself piqued, "I forgot that we 
 are no longer in France." 
 
 "It has occurred to me," observed 
 the countess, "that you prefer conscien- 
 tious Bohemia to clever France."
 
 THE DECISION 135 
 
 "At this moment," responded he, "I 
 think only of the country which has 
 been good for me." 
 
 Saying these words he kissed the 
 hand of Madame Villedieu and made a 
 low bow to her daughter. He reached 
 the hotel a little earlier than he ex- 
 pected. 
 
 His sleep was a long time coming, 
 but the time passed very quickly in 
 bringing an action against the coun- 
 tess. To resume, in a word, the long 
 speech of the prosecutor, that young 
 woman was unbearable. Even her 
 beauty counted in the eyes of Paul as 
 a grievance, or rather as a disagreeable 
 intrusion, obstructing the circulation. 
 Since seeing her he had not been able 
 to move with the same freedom of ac-
 
 136 THE DECISION 
 
 tion. He was reminded of the com- 
 plaints often expressed by one of his 
 friends who had passed a season near 
 Avranches. The friend was struck with 
 the grandeur of Mount Saint Michael 
 and was unable to ride in a carriage, 
 go out on foot, sail in a boat, or even 
 to remain at his window, without per- 
 ceiving the " wonder." 
 
 Paul, in reality, saw this other won- 
 der but twice a day, yet when she was 
 not in sight he asked himself, in spite 
 of his efforts to think of something 
 else, if this other phantom would not 
 appear under the colonnades of the 
 Kursaal, along the row of shops 
 of the Alte-Wiese, or where she might 
 especially be expected at the turn- 
 ing of some wild lane of the pine forest,
 
 THE DECISION 137 
 
 a proper frame for her fairy-like 
 beauty. 
 
 Yet, however, he realized that the ob- 
 session of which he seemed to complain 
 left in him a disagreeable void. This 
 woman who embarrassed him and made 
 fun of him when she was present would 
 be missed when she left, just as Mount 
 Saint Michael, removed from view on 
 some fine morning, would have been 
 missed by his friend. 
 
 "All this," said he to himself, "is 
 pure imagination. I am like a man who 
 has upon his tongue a pimple no larger 
 than the head of a pin and imagines he 
 has a mountain in his moutL. What- 
 ever happens, the countess will not 
 have the occasion to regret her album. 
 To-morrow our acquaintance will re-
 
 138 THE DECISION 
 
 turn to merely a bow. My reason or- 
 ders it." 
 
 Unfortunately it was not wholly in 
 others that Valentine de la Guernerie 
 admired a conscience. She had exam- 
 ined her own and it had blamed her for 
 having been malicious. The result was 
 that the next day Tarragnoz saw her 
 coming toward the armchair in which 
 he was seated with his newspaper in 
 hand and a cigarette in his lips. 
 
 " Captain," said she, "I see that you 
 are a smoker and I venture to ask your 
 assistance. I would like to have your 
 help in choosing a meerschaum pipe, as 
 I fear the dealer will take advantage of 
 my ignorance. Will you perform this 
 fatigue-duty forthwith? Mamma, I 
 will return in half an hour."
 
 THE DECISION 139 
 
 Five minutes later the countess and 
 her companion were descending the 
 pathway broken with steps and shaded 
 with dwarf linden trees which runs 
 from Schlossberg to the single street of 
 the lower town. With the facility of a 
 real society woman, she began immedi- 
 ately one of those agreeable conversa- 
 tions which naturally follow the meet- 
 ing of two friends. Although she 
 avoided the slightest allusion, Paul un- 
 derstood perfectly that she was indem- 
 nifying him for the wrong of the eve- 
 ning before. To say that he lowered his 
 arms from the first moment would 
 hardly be true. 
 
 However, the peace had been signed, 
 without the slightest direct mention, 
 when the two enemies of the previous
 
 140 THE DECISION 
 
 evening arrived at the pipe-maker's. 
 There Madame de la Guernerie gare her 
 orders, to tell the truth without much 
 consultation with Tarragnoz. She or- 
 dered a monogram to be made in relief. 
 She even indicated the design with a 
 firm stroke of her pencil a design 
 so original that it struck her com- 
 panion. The letters R. T. remained in 
 his eyes. 
 
 "Your friend will certainly be 
 pleased," said he; "for I think this 
 present is not intended for a cousin." 
 
 "No, it is indeed for a friend, and for 
 one of the most devoted friends that I 
 have." 
 
 Without further explanation, Ma- 
 dame de la Guernerie, having given her 
 address, left the shop and went slowly
 
 THE DECISION 141 
 
 back toward the Savoy. As might be 
 expected, in view of the motive which 
 brought about their reunion at this 
 time, they spoke of friendship. Tarrag- 
 noz, exclusively imbued with French 
 ideas (without approving of them), 
 maintained that friendship of one sex 
 for another was impossible, unless the 
 combined ages of the two parties 
 equalled a century. 
 
 "How very tiresome!" said the 
 countess. "Then I must wait some 
 forty years before giving you a meer- 
 schaum pipe?" 
 
 "Oh! by that time I shall have long 
 ceased to be for you an acquaintance 
 of the city of waters. How hatefully 
 commonplace it is for people to cling to 
 you simply because they have waited
 
 142 THE DECISION 
 
 their turn at the same spring for two 
 or three weeks!" 
 
 " Quite commonplace, yet one cannot 
 always wait for a strong friendship to 
 begin in the lifeboat of a sinking ves- 
 sel." 
 
 " That would be hardly correct. The 
 shipwreck is one of our conventional 
 ideas from which one must never de- 
 part. Existence in what you call soci- 
 ety is based upon a system that has for 
 its object the suppression of everything 
 unexpected; in other words, every im- 
 pulse. If you owe your fortune to your 
 inveigling for a legacy, and if in three 
 or four different ground-floor apart- 
 ments I receive the wives of three or 
 four particularly dear friends, we could 
 tranquilly go our way, because such
 
 THE DECISION 143 
 
 things are not contrary to the system. 
 But if, in obedience to an impulse which 
 I assume might be reciprocal, we were 
 to establish a serious friendship, open 
 and innocent, then you would be a rebel 
 without principles, and I a sad individ- 
 ual, compromising women." 
 
 "Good Lord!" said she, laughing, "I 
 hope the world will never know that I 
 took you to help me choose a pipe. 
 Anyway, I have never seen a man main- 
 tain discouraging theories in such a 
 cheerful manner." 
 
 "You know the proverbial gaiety of 
 undertakers' assistants. Then I shall 
 say to you au revoir for forty years. 
 The misfortune is that in forty days 
 you will have forgotten that I exist." 
 
 ".Will you wager that I forget you?"
 
 144 THE DECISION 
 
 "Ten to one," responded Paul, kiss- 
 ing her extended hand. 
 
 Two days later he accompanied the 
 two ladies to the last Carlsbad Express, 
 for the season was at an end. He had 
 pardoned Madame de la Guernerie for 
 having trampled upon his madrigals. 
 
 "I will make you a sign when we 
 again become Parisiennes," she had 
 promised. 
 
 As for himself, his treatment finished, 
 he regained France by way of Munich 
 and the Italian lakes. He again took 
 up his duties near his General. His 
 physical and, above all, his moral condi- 
 tion was better. The morning often 
 came to him without his having been 
 awakened by the apparition of Walter, 
 but outwardly there was no change in
 
 THE DECISION 145 
 
 his misanthropy. In the eyes of the 
 world, and of his comrades, he appeared 
 either "cracked" or a snob, according 
 to tastes.
 
 VIII 
 
 KUEDE L'YVETTE 
 
 Toward the latter part of November 
 lie received this note: 
 
 "Monsieur, I have won my wager. Some 
 evening when you have neither a worldly obli- 
 gation nor an 'impulse' permitted or forbidden 
 by the 'system' you will find us, my mother and 
 me, in our chimney-corner at half-past nine. If 
 you have forgotten our names, it will be suffi- 
 cient for me to say that we are the ladies of the 
 Villa Cleopatra. That is enough to call you 
 back again to the scent. Kind regards from 
 your acquaintances of the City of Waters." 
 
 "Villedieu La Guernerie, 
 "14, rue de 1'Yvette (it's fright- 
 fully far), at the end of the court/*' 
 
 She who had scribbled this card per- 
 haps knew the mind of the person to 
 146
 
 THE DECISION 147 
 
 whom it was addressed, as its receipt 
 caused no surprise. One should under- 
 stand by that that ever since the light- 
 ing up of heating apparatus and the ap- 
 pearance of muffs, he had asked him- 
 self, "Will the sign which she promised 
 come to-day?" 
 
 This was not, as one might wrongly 
 suppose, the confidence of a coxcomb 
 certain of having produced an indelible 
 impression ; but he had read in the eyes 
 of the countess and others before him 
 had read the same thing that a prom- 
 ise coming from her was equivalent to 
 an accomplished fact. Although he 
 prided himself upon his scrupulous 
 faithfulness in all social engagements, 
 this did not prevent his sending Ms or- 
 derly ten minutes later to the telegraph
 
 148 THE DECISION 
 
 office with a despatch for the mistress 
 of a house where he was expected to 
 dinner. "Unexpected work," "affairs 
 of service," "regrets," "sorrow" 
 nothing was lacking in the imposture 
 of his excuse. Which one of us is with- 
 out sin? In these days, they no longer, 
 thank goodness, pelt a man with stones 
 even for such impoliteness as this. 
 
 To say that the rue de 1'Yvette is 
 situated in Auteuil gives but a faint 
 idea of the distance. The inhabitants 
 of Auteuil, themselves ignorant of the 
 name, declare with emphasis that "it is 
 a lost quarter," thus giving one the im- 
 pression of being near the Stock Ex- 
 change. Accustomed to the study of 
 maps, the captain arrived at the indi- 
 cated address without mistaking the
 
 THE DECISION 149 
 
 way and without being late. Madame 
 Yilledieu and her daughter certainly re- 
 sided at the end of a court, but it was 
 their court; and the little hotel a jewel 
 was their hotel. 
 
 In a drawing-room, surprisingly 
 large, some shaded electric lamps 
 lighted the room without dazzling the 
 eyes. In a vase placed upon the table 
 were a dozen superb roses; remarkable 
 simplicity in these times of universal 
 wealth, when the least bourgeoise in her 
 floral decorations considers quantity be- 
 fore everything else. Besides there was 
 no apparent desire to " strike with sur- 
 prise" or even to instruct the public. 
 Nothing to reveal whether one was in 
 the house of a great pianist, a celebrated 
 sculptor, a collector of specimens, or in
 
 150 THE DECISION 
 
 the house of a subscriber to Revues, en- 
 dowed with a ferocious appetite, or 
 even in the house of a simple bridge 
 player. But we already know that Ma- 
 dame de la Guernerie did not like cards. 
 Manifestly she loved all of the comforts 
 of life, moral and physical. Paul Tar- 
 ragnoz employed precisely those terms 
 in responding to the question of Ma- 
 dame de la Guernerie, who wished to 
 know, "How he was impressed with the 
 place?" She raised her shoulders 
 slightly on seeing his look of surprise at 
 her question. 
 
 "Let us see," said she, "do you think 
 we are vain or modest to the point of 
 soliciting admiration for ourselves? I 
 ask you what you think of this setting? 
 Suppose you were an author, furbish-
 
 THE DECISION 151 
 
 ing the first twenty pages, describing 
 this drawing-room and revealing to the 
 reader the good qualities or the faults 
 of those who live here?" 
 
 Paul, improvising upon the suggested 
 theme, recited in the tone of a man read- 
 ing in a loud voice : 
 
 "At the first view one concludes that 
 the countess and her mother are preoc- 
 cupied above everything else with the 
 moral and physical comforts of life ; or, 
 if you prefer, the ideal of their life is 
 simplicity, regularity and. comfort. 
 They are friends, not the slaves of or- 
 der, as shown by the arrangement of 
 things, nearly all of which are useful 
 and not more numerous than they 
 should be without becoming a burden. 
 The furniture, whose convenience is
 
 152 THE DECISION 
 
 not less reproachable than its taste, is 
 not obliged to offer proofs of nobility; 
 one sees that it is never asked, * Where 
 did you come from?' but 'What are you 
 good for?' " 
 
 "Bravo!" interrupted Madame de la 
 Guernerie. "You may add, that we put 
 that question not only to furniture but 
 to persons." 
 
 "All that," said Madame Villedieu, 
 without bitterness, "amounts to this 
 that we appear like two good bour- 
 geoises/' 
 
 "No, you have the appearance of per- 
 sons who, having travelled and suffered 
 in their peregrinations I speak from 
 experience know the price of happi- 
 ness and repose." 
 
 "It is true," admitted the countess,
 
 THE DECISION 153 
 
 becoming a little sad, "we have trav- 
 elled much in the country of affliction. 
 I have an uncle, an old sea captain, who 
 is gently growing old in his retirement. 
 Although he was well situated in Brit- 
 tany, he established himself in Touraine, 
 because the sight of the sea recalled to 
 him 'too small allowances of tobacco/ to 
 use his own words. You know now why; 
 we inhabit this family pension by our- 
 selves, where only heroism and friend- 
 ship could bring a human being. The 
 sight of the world would recall to us 
 'too small allowances of tobacco,' as myj 
 uncle would say. Let it be said in pass- 
 ing that the aversion of the old sailor 
 for the empire of Neptune works to our 
 profit, for he lends us his castle in Mor- 
 bihan."
 
 154 THE DECISION 
 
 Madame Villedieu breathed a sigh, 
 "It is nearly as far from Paris as the 
 ruedel'Yvette!" 
 
 " Patience !" said Madame de la Guer- 
 nerie, "you know very well, mamma, it 
 is understood that when we are old we 
 shall live in the place Vendome, and the 
 society columns of the Gaulois will re- 
 sound with your name, for we shall have 
 had time to forget the pitching and the 
 nausea." From the moment he entered 
 the house of these ladies, Paul was as- 
 tonished that he should feel so little like 
 a stranger. Before leaving he men- 
 tioned this surprise. 
 
 "From the time of your leaving 
 Carlsbad until I rang your door-bell 
 this evening, we had completely lost 
 sight of each other. I was ignorant of
 
 THE DECISION 155 
 
 your address and did not consider it 
 proper to ask you for it, yet this evening 
 I discovered that our friendship has in- 
 creased in the interval, just as children 
 placed with a village nurse continue to 
 grow as fast as before." 
 
 "They often grow faster than other 
 children," said Madame de la Guernerie 
 with her "dangerous" smile. 
 
 Tarragnoz qualified the smile in his 
 thoughts, because it resembled the sud- 
 den and charming scratching of a young 
 cat which playfully pretends to be 
 asleep. 
 
 All the time, reflecting upon this 
 friendship, he had plenty of time dur- 
 ing his long journey home Paul real- 
 ized that in the wall of the past no door 
 of communication between them gave
 
 156 THE DECISION 
 
 any appearance of opening itself. With 
 Madame Villedieu and her daughter he 
 had never been surprised by the least 
 sign of curiosity concerning his previ- 
 ous existence. Bearing in mind his de- 
 sire to forget a certain drama in his life, 
 one may judge if this lack of interest 
 was not agreeable. The result was, how- 
 ever, that it deprived him of the right 
 to be curious himself. Questioning, he 
 risked being interrogated in his turn, 
 and his comrades had already discov- 
 ered that the entire period of his career 
 in Africa was in their conversations a 
 forbidden subject. 
 
 Be that as it may, anyone understand- 
 ing his nature would be able to divine 
 that these two women, unusual in their 
 retirement, each one attraetiye accord-
 
 THE DECISION 157 
 
 ing to her fashion, were for him ideal 
 friends. His visits to the rue de 
 1'Yvette, after the dinner hour, soon be- 
 came a habit. He was very quickly en- 
 lightened upon the intimate character 
 of the relations between the countess 
 and her mother. The latter manifestly 
 sacrificed her own tastes, first through 
 fondness for her daughter (that goes 
 without saying) but also through a de- 
 sire to make reparation for an injustice. 
 What had been the maternal wrong 
 Paul had no means of knowing. The 
 question put with an indifferent air to 
 some of Ms acquaintances had enlight- 
 ened him but little. No one seemed to 
 have known the Count de la Guernerie. 
 However, one friend, thus interrogated, 
 believed that "the poor Yalentine,"
 
 158 THE DECISION 
 
 very unhappy in her domestic affairs, 
 was finally abandoned by her husband 
 who, as was highly proper, went off to 
 die in America. 
 
 It should be noted that Tarragnoz 
 carefully avoided even mentioning the 
 name of the street where these ladies 
 lived. Having discovered that charm- 
 ing isle, he had the caution not to intro- 
 duce there anyone else who might prove 
 to be an annoyance, possibly a rival. 
 One should not conclude, however, from 
 this that he admitted to himself having 
 a lover's jealousy upon the subject of 
 Madame de la Guernerie, but we have 
 already foreseen a motion in that direc- 
 tion. This was the beginning of a slid- 
 ing scarcely discernible. Thus, accord- 
 ing to the laws of gravity, an object
 
 THE DECISION 159 
 
 starts with a sluggishness which 
 scarcely permits one to see that it has 
 changed its position. Then the fall be- 
 comes more .rapid, and mathematicians 
 will tell you that the velocity increases 
 in a geometrical proportion to the dura- 
 tion of its flight. Alone, in the last 
 tramway from Auteuil, where he was 
 able to meditate, Paul Tarragnoz dis- 
 covered one evening that he was sliding 
 with full force. 
 
 That is what he risked in frequently 
 meeting a young lady delightfully dif- 
 ferent from others, under the grateful 
 eye of a mother who, after so many 
 years, sees the smile hover anew upon 
 the lips of her daughter. 
 
 To know this joy Madame Villedieu 
 had tried everything within her power,
 
 160 THE DECISION 
 
 and fortune had sent to her in the per- 
 son of Tarragnoz, if not the remedy 
 sought for, at least a salutary diversion 
 of the young widow 's sadness. She wel- 
 comed him with open arms, without 
 concealing it from anyone, not even her 
 brother, the captain of the steamship 
 Couaridouc, who had come from Tour- 
 aine to pass the greater part of the win- 
 ter in Paris. The latter, an old bache- 
 lor, still robust, passed his evenings in 
 places more congenial to him than the 
 rue de 1'Yvette, consequently he had 
 never met Tarragnoz, although he had 
 often heard the name of the young man. 
 One evening, in the absence of his niece, 
 he lectured Madame Villedieu with the 
 frankness of a sailor. 
 "You are a great one! To amuse
 
 THE DECISION 161 
 
 [Valentine you have given her this play- 
 thing, without asking if he has any- 
 thing but a stomach in his anatomy. 
 What assurance have you that this 
 young fellow hasn't a heart under his 
 belt?" 
 
 "It is good for a man to be a little in 
 love." 
 
 "And if he is much in love?" 
 
 "You don't know him. Your engi- 
 neers have never turned your propeller 
 with so much regularity as this phi- 
 losopher has shown in ordering his in- 
 ward ticking." 
 
 "And if it is Valentine who is smit- 
 ten?" 
 
 "Poor little one ! Her horror of men 
 has killed in her all ability to love." 
 
 "However, from what you say, this
 
 162 THE DECISION 
 
 young man does not seem to be such a 
 horror to her." 
 
 "Precisely, because he permits her to 
 forget that he is a young man. I be- 
 lieve that he, too, is limping from some 
 great battlefield, but he does not take 
 advantage of it to make himself tire- 
 some." 
 
 "Say the word, then, he amuses you !" 
 
 "Do you see much harm in that? If 
 you menace the life which I lead! " 
 
 "The devil take me if I would accept 
 it! Valentine takes the advantage of 
 her limping, as you say, to require that 
 you go lame, too. Well, I am going to 
 escape. They are waiting for me at the 
 Ministry of Marine." 
 
 "Bad subject!"
 
 IX 
 
 THE MEETING WITH DOCTOR TUGHEIM 
 
 Madame Villedieu was not so de- 
 prived of the pleasures of the world that 
 she wished to complain of it. She re- 
 ceived each Tuesday. On that day, dur- 
 ing the whole afternoon, the drawing 
 room of the little hotel became her pri- 
 vate domain where, when the communi- 
 cations were not cut off by bad weather, 
 a dozen or more friends of both sexes, 
 faithful to old recollections, came to 
 give the place a little of the atmosphere 
 of the world. While they chatted in the 
 lower part of the house, Madame de la 
 163
 
 164. THE DECISION 
 
 Guernerie fortified herself in her bou- 
 doir on the floor above. Her mother 's 
 visitors, all born under the gay period 
 of the second Empire, finding this 
 young woman but little amusing, did 
 not disturb her. 
 
 Paul, always the first one to arrive on 
 the reception days of Madame Villedieu, 
 made a pretence of leaving when any- 
 one else arrived. Then, after climbing 
 twenty stairs, he received the thanks 
 of the countess for coming to bore him- 
 self with her. At five o'clock their tea 
 was sent up, as to children in the school- 
 room. Tarragnoz silently watched the 
 young woman carry the cup of tea to 
 her lips, unfolding an exquisite line 
 from the laces of her short sleeve to the 
 rosy nail of her delicately carved finger.
 
 THE DECISION 165 
 
 At such times lie no longer saw the 
 phantom of Walter. 
 
 Sometimes, even, he had the pleasure 
 of passing an entire night without any 
 apparition. On the other hand, he was 
 often tormented by insomnia, but it was 
 better to be haunted by a living beauty 
 than by a dead man with a frightful 
 visage. At the same time, thanks to the 
 meeting of a comrade better informed 
 than himself upon society chronicles, 
 Paul made considerable progress in the 
 study of history, that is to say, the his- 
 tory of Valentine. 
 
 According to this friend, the sorrow 
 of the young widow (and this was con- 
 soling to the lover), consisted less in the 
 loss of her husband than in the regret 
 of having married some six years too
 
 166 THE DECISION 
 
 soon. Guernerie had quickly shown 
 himself to be a bad man, but very 
 quickly also, and very discreetly, he had 
 taken himself off, delivering of his pres- 
 ence a wife too prompt in accepting him 
 and a mother-in-law with too little dis- 
 cernment He had been killed in a rail- 
 road accident in America. As to the 
 young widow, the comrade of Tarragnoz 
 was unable to say anything. 
 
 She was never seen with him in so- 
 ciety, because her dowry had disap- 
 peared at the same time with her illu- 
 sions, or, perhaps there was a "myste- 
 rious comforter. ' ' At these words Paul 
 showed Ms indignation in a manner that 
 his comrade could not ignore. 
 
 "Pardon! If you are one of her 
 frienc
 
 THE DECISION 167 
 
 "I have not the honor, but I have 
 seen her and her mother at Carlsbad. 
 They lived like recluses, speaking to no 
 one, and the young woman seemed still 
 more unsociable than the other." 
 
 "Is she still handsome V 
 
 u Yes, rather," and the conversation 
 changed its course. 
 
 It is much to know that Valentine 
 had not loved her husband, and still 
 more to know that there was no com- 
 forter, acknowledged or mysterious. 
 But Paul was disturbed in never hear- 
 ing the victim speak of her griefs, thus 
 showing that her soul was closed to all 
 consolations. Usually, those who have 
 endured shipwreck, willingly recount 
 their adventures. Madame de la Guer- 
 nerie, by her silence, let it be seen that
 
 168 THE DECISION 
 
 even after returning to the shore she re- 
 tained in her mouth too much of the bit- 
 ter taste of salt water to embark again. 
 
 This discouraging impression, which 
 Paul more and more experienced, was 
 not the result of an affirmative protes- 
 tation but he felt that she was as much 
 closed to his love as a rose of last spring 
 dried in a drawer is closed to the sap. 
 When she perceived that this young 
 man, duly warned, nevertheless ven- 
 tured to love her, she was no more 
 frightened than a battleship would be of 
 a rowboat, and furthermore, she did not 
 train her weapons upon him. 
 
 Perhaps she has been told that 
 a woman does not know what it 
 is to be loved until she is loved "with- 
 out hope."
 
 THE DECISION 169 
 
 She soon learned this from Paul's sad 
 avowal. She listened in silence, with- 
 out being able to do or say anything to 
 dispel the clouds which enveloped his 
 heart. This was shortly before her de- 
 parture for Brittany, which would natu- 
 rally have occurred "at the first signs 
 of spring," as Madame Villedieu had 
 remarked; but the latter, for once, had 
 gained three weeks, which showed that 
 her daughter was not entirely with- 
 out pity for those who suffer. In the 
 numerous gardens upon the rue de 
 FYvette the lilac bushes were almost in 
 bloom when they commenced to pack 
 their trunks. A radiant sun burst out 
 upon "their last Tuesday." 
 
 "You must forget me," urged the 
 beautiful countess, somewhat late, while
 
 170 THE DECISION 
 
 the mother served the tea in the draw- 
 ing-room below. 
 
 "I must find a way to keep from dy- 
 ing, bewailed the deserted man, cov- 
 ering with kisses the softest hand in 
 the world. 
 
 As this familiarity constituted "his 
 maximum" he, without rebelling, re- 
 signed himself to the situation. It may 
 well be imagined that he so "resigned 
 himself" on frequent occasions. 
 
 The railway station of the quay d'Or- 
 say resembled more than ever a funeral 
 vault on a certain evening when he as- 
 sisted Madame Villedieu and her daugh- 
 ter aboard the train for Auray. 
 
 He said to the countess, as they 
 walked up and down the platform, 
 "You are naturally delighted to leave."
 
 THE DECISION 171 
 
 "Delighted! were it not for 
 my mother I would have been 
 watching the furze bloom a long time 
 ago." 
 
 The cruelty of this reply was slightly 
 contradicted by the look that accompa- 
 nied it. 
 
 "Will you permit me to come and see 
 you in bloom during my autumn fur- 
 lough?" 
 
 "Brittany is free to everybody, my 
 friend." 
 
 "Will you allow me to write to you 
 sometimes?" 
 
 "That greatly depends upon what 
 you write. Besides, my mother reads 
 all my letters." 
 
 Paul exhibited such a profound 
 despondency that she gave him her
 
 172 THE DECISION 
 
 11 dangerous smile." "All, or near- 
 ly all," corrected she with compas- 
 sion. 
 
 "What shall I do with myself when 
 I am not writing to you?" 
 
 "You may be hoping for a reply to 
 your letters." 
 
 Suddenly Valentine, in her turn, ap- 
 peared discouraged. "If only I could 
 change places with you!" she sighed al- 
 most in a whisper. 
 
 They closed the portieres. That was 
 her last word of adieu. Standing upon 
 the running-board of the car which had 
 already started, Paul had once more 
 "his maximum." 
 
 He walked home. As he somewhat 
 hurriedly passed the omnibus station of 
 the bridge of the Concorde, a man mod-
 
 THE DECISION 173 
 
 estly dressed, after carefully studying 
 his face, extended his hand. 
 
 "Pardon me," said Tarragnoz, 
 "but " 
 
 "I pardon you," said a voice with a 
 strong accent of the Rhine. "You have 
 never seen me in civilian clothes, and 
 it is not surprising that you do not rec- 
 ognize me." 
 
 "Doctor Tucheim! Is it possible? 
 You have left the Legion?" 
 
 "A year ago; I am attached to Val 
 de Grace. You, captain, if I am not 
 mistaken, are an aide de camp?" 
 
 "Yes, a service of idleness. Is it not 
 strange that we should meet here by 
 chance, in a place so much unlike 1" 
 
 At this point of the conversa-
 
 174 THE DECISION 
 
 tion Paul interrupted himself, ab- 
 sorbed by the question which came 
 to his mind: "Is this meeting fortu- 
 nate?" 
 
 "I accompanied some friends here," 
 said he for the sake of saying some- 
 thing. 
 
 "I am waiting for the autobus from 
 Montparnasse, " explained the doctor. 
 "I recognized you, although you have 
 changed, but the change is for the bet- 
 ter, and you appear younger. We shall 
 soon meet again, I hope." 
 
 Tarragnoz felt a sort of fear in again 
 seeing this man who was connected with 
 the terrible events of his life, but faith- 
 ful to his system of keeping a firm con- 
 trol over that which Madame Villedieu 
 called his "inward ticking," he asked
 
 THE DECISION 175 
 
 the address of Tucheim and promised 
 to call soon. The noisy arrival of the 
 heavy vehicle separated them. Less 
 than a week later he rapped at the door 
 of his comrade. 
 
 At the moment he was no longer the 
 lover pursued by his dream, but in spite 
 of everything the " innocent assassin" 
 tortured by remorse. The astonishing 
 thing was that he experienced a strong 
 desire to open his soul to the "good 
 parson," the guardian of so many 
 secrets. Confession is an inborn need 
 of human beings before it becomes a 
 dogma of faith. Since, according to the 
 religious ideas of Tucheim, absolution 
 was possible, why could not the doctor 
 absolve him for a sin committed three 
 years before, assuming that it really
 
 176 THE DECISION 
 
 was a sin? But the visitor lacked the 
 courage and he contented himself with 
 asking this question : 
 
 "Are you still a devout Christian, 
 doctor?" 
 
 " Saint Francois de Sales maintained 
 that to be a Christian it was not suffi- 
 cient to believe in God and observe 
 Easter, but let us assume that I am. 
 Did I care for you badly when you were 
 ill?" 
 
 "I go much further than that. If I 
 had been obliged to die, I should have 
 desired to die in your arms. Will you 
 have a cigarette, doctor?" 
 
 "Permit me to decline. As a good 
 Alsatian I prefer the pipe." 
 
 As he said this Tucheim produced a 
 red leather case, opened it with the
 
 THE DECISION 177 
 
 pious slowness of a sacristan unveiling 
 a reliquary and took from it a master- 
 piece of pipe coloring, combining in the 
 right places the rich tint of mahogany 
 and the untouched whiteness of the 
 meerschaum. He filled it without speak- 
 ing, fully absorbed in the delicate oper- 
 ation; then with his eye fixed upon the 
 bowl he lighted it. Happily contented 
 he drew in the puffs. 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Tarragnoz to him- 
 self. 
 
 "Isn't that fine?" 
 
 "Let me see." 
 
 The officer took the pipe in his hands 
 in order to examine it more closely. 
 The monogram "R. T." stood out in 
 relief. Paul recognized it. Ten months 
 earlier in his presence Madame de la
 
 178 THE DECISION 
 
 Guernerie had given the design to the 
 pipeJmaker. Wishing to be perfectly; 
 sure, he examined the interior of the 
 case where the faded gold still permitted 
 him to read the name Carlsbad. He 
 withheld the question which came to his 
 lips, for he did not profane the secrets 
 of others any more than his own. Now, 
 according to all the evidence, he was 
 face to face with the secret of two per- 
 sons. Tucheim misapprehended the 
 cause of his silence. 
 
 1 i Come ! ' ' said the doctor. ' 1 1 see that 
 you are a connoisseur. That pipe is 
 worth fifty francs if it is worth a sou. 
 You think that is extravagant for a 
 poor devil of a military doctor. Reas- 
 sure yourself, captain; it was a pres- 
 ent."
 
 THE DECISION 179 
 
 Paul believed that he saw the door 
 
 V 
 
 of confidences beginning to open. 
 
 "Good!" said he. "Some one cares 
 for you! A friend? A sister? A 
 fiancee?" 
 
 Tucheim made a denial by shaking 
 his head, his honest smile expanding 
 more and more. 
 
 ' ' No, ' ' said he, finally. ' ' A queen ! ' ' 
 
 "Of Madagascar?" 
 
 "No, a queen of beauty and white- 
 ness. But, above all, she is the first 
 woman that I really admired." 
 
 "And you no longer admire her?" 
 
 "Oh! yes, unfortunately."
 
 X 
 
 THE BETROTHAL 
 
 Tarragnoz shortened his visit, as con- 
 versation had become impossible in the 
 troubled state in which he writhed. 
 Lovers do not care for a mystery, espe- 
 cially when they are left on the other 
 side of the wall, behind which the un- 
 explained thing is taking place. At this 
 time he would have liked to ask a dozen 
 questions, all equally impossible. 
 
 Where had the countess known Tu- 
 
 cheim $ How had she known the doctor 
 
 well enough to buy him a pipe ? Why, 
 
 having consulted him upon the choice 
 
 180
 
 THE DECISION 181 
 
 of a present, had she carefully hidden 
 the name of the person who was to re- 
 ceive it? When and where had they 
 seen each other? Was.it unknown to 
 Madame Villedieu? 
 
 It must be admitted that all this was 
 enough to make a lover uneasy. The 
 good " parson" was beyond doubt more 
 than an admirer of the countess. Thank 
 heaven! he had nothing of that which 
 constitutes a romantic hero, the thought 
 of which causes the rival's blood to boil. 
 Without doubt he would keep to him- 
 self the secret of his adoration. But 
 why, if he was on such terms of in- 
 timacy with that household, had this 
 matter-of-fact doctor adopted the ro- 
 mantic methods of a Don Juan the 
 screen and the ladder of cords?
 
 182 THE DECISION 
 
 To a lover whose curiosity reached 
 the limits of torture, this ensemble of 
 contradictions and obscurities concern- 
 ing a woman who had become his one 
 and only thought formed an intolerable 
 torment. Upon leaving the doctor he 
 started to walk, and this gave him the 
 leisure to meditate upon a short plan 
 of action. Just now, furious against 
 Tucheim, heaven knows why, he wished 
 to break with "one of the most devoted 
 friends" of the countess, for that was 
 what she called him. Rendered foolish 
 by monstrous suspicions, and believing 
 himself the object of an infamous de- 
 ception, his dignity demanded that he 
 let oblivion cover up his new-born love 
 for the countess, just as a rising tide 
 submerges the house of sand built by
 
 THE DECISION 183 
 
 children's hands; but sometimes we are 
 like the child, who returns to his work 
 when the waves retire. Paul wrote the 
 same evening to Valentine. 
 
 Nothing is more doleful than a love 
 letter written with a mental reservation 
 in the heart. Madame de la Guernerie 
 was too much of a woman not to feel 
 that her correspondent desired to punish 
 her for something, all the while doing 
 his best to smile. She examined her 
 conscience and, finding nothing there to 
 condemn, she gave Paul to understand 
 that their epistolary relations had be- 
 gun in a less agreeable manner than 
 she had reason to expect. "I am un- 
 happy," was his vague response, but no 
 Dne could doubt its absolute sincerity. 
 
 Thus disarmed, Valentine consoled
 
 184, THE DECISION 
 
 Paul, whom she believed to be saddened 
 by a hopeless love. To tell the truth, 
 her consolation was as unsatisfactory 
 as that of jailers who try to console a 
 man condemned to death by offering 
 him cigars or playing dominoes with 
 him. Nevertheless, between the lines, 
 he read that her heart was not less ex- 
 quisite than her face, only her replies 
 did not aid in the least in solving the 
 enigma, the solution of which Paul 
 could not ask. 
 
 Ashamed of playing the role of a spy, 
 he returned to Tucheim's house, and 
 was still more ashamed in seeing the 
 pleasure his visit caused; but when he 
 began to beat the bushes the Alsatian 
 pricked up his ears, became as cold as 
 ice and showed that it was of no use to
 
 THE DECISION 185 
 
 expect any light from him. Thus the 
 two sides held each other in check. 
 There was, however, one difference. 
 The letters of the countess were reas- 
 suring and drew him more and more 
 from the idea that such a woman could 
 be false. Tucheim, on the contrary, 
 without being less loyal, had a rough 
 hand. Certain looks, certain silences, 
 were sufficient to make one believe that 
 he suspected the secrets of Paul, while 
 Paul was entirely ignorant of his. Be- 
 sides, as may be readily understood, the 
 captain was no longer able to bear the 
 sight of the odious pipe, which had re- 
 placed the phantom of Walter. Little 
 by little the two friends, so recently 
 brought together, were again becoming 
 separated. One remark of Tucheim
 
 186 THE DECISION 
 
 caused the cup of bitterness to overflow. 
 
 "Doctor," said Tarragnoz to him, "I 
 should like to buy that pipe of yours. 
 [What do you ask for it?" 
 
 "My dear fellow," responded the Al- 
 satian, "you are not rich enough." 
 
 "But it seems to me that you are com- 
 promising the queen." 
 
 "Indeed? You find me a tale-bearer? 
 I might be one, but I am not." 
 
 "All the same, if she knew that you 
 called her your queen?" 
 
 "I think she knows, indeed, that I 
 have not been enough of a tale-bearer 
 with her," replied Tucheim, his eyes 
 gravely fixed upon the cloud going out 
 of his lips. 
 
 Paul decided that he would not again 
 meet this man, formerly so gentle, now
 
 THE DECISION 187 
 
 so aggressive. Besides, the time ap- 
 proached for his visit to Brittany, 
 which would furnish the opportunity 
 for a thorough explanation with the 
 countess. When he was free to go, he 
 left Paris and took up his abode in 
 Auray, from where, upon his Morbihan 
 pony, he was able to reach the habita- 
 tion of his friends in one hour by a short 
 cut across lots. The pleasure which he 
 had for four months anticipated from 
 this meeting was fully realized. The 
 smile was no longer " dangerous" in the 
 sense formerly understood, because it 
 had become less rare. Madame de la 
 Guernerie was a different woman. In 
 her eyes the fugitive rays, evidence of 
 the blooming of the first flowers, had 
 caught that luminous fire of the sum-
 
 188 THE DECISION 
 
 mer sun which would shortly yellow the 
 harvest, and Paul brought to her feet 
 a harvest of love which one last warm 
 ray would ripen. 
 
 iWhen Madame Villedieu, fatigued 
 from her walk, left Valentine to do the 
 honors of the park for their visitor, she 
 conducted him obliquely toward the lit- 
 tle pine woods, screening the house on 
 the side of the sea, a sea so blue that 
 one might expect to see the smoke of 
 Vesuvius in the distance. They seated 
 themselves upon a bench. At this mo- 
 ment Paul had no question upon his lips 
 other than the adroit and insidious in- 
 terrogatories prepared during his night 
 journey. 
 
 "Why is it," said he, "that while you 
 have become more beautiful, you appear
 
 THE DECISION 189 
 
 less inaccessible, less distant from this 
 earth where poor human beings sigh? 
 Is it that your coiffure is not quite in 
 the Paris fashion, or your girlish white 
 dress and your eyes less mysterious ? It 
 seems to me that I love you not more, 
 but nearer. I said to myself in coming 
 here, 'How many weeks, months, years, 
 perhaps, must roll away before I shall 
 dare to offer her my life?' All at once 
 in seeing you I felt courageous enough 
 to try. When I first saw you, if I had 
 been able to speak, what would have 
 been your answer ? That I am insane ? 
 Then pay no attention to my words. I 
 will fall back again into the abyss where 
 I was, the abyss of sorrow, but also of 
 joy, since I love you and you know it 
 and are not displeased."
 
 190 THE DECISION 
 
 A witness of this scene, desiring the 
 success of Tarragnoz, would have pre- 
 ferred to see more tenderness or more 
 anger in the eyes of Valentine. She 
 had listened without interrupting him. 
 Coming to the question at issue, as the 
 lawyers say, she made this remark, im- 
 pressed with more humor than emotion : 
 "That's what it is to be a clever man. 
 If you win I must pay ; if you lose the 
 blow is nothing. That is the way, is it 
 not, that you play the game ? It is just 
 that which leads to nothing, when we 
 undertake to play the game with you 
 men." 
 
 "So I have done a foolish thing in 
 seeking to know my fate? Are you 
 going to conduct me to the nearest 
 asylum?"
 
 THE DECISION 191 
 
 "No, with such honest instincts one is 
 never dangerously insane. You belong 
 to the category of those who are per- 
 mitted to wander in the country upon 
 the condition that they do not attempt 
 to set fire to the buildings, as you have 
 just now attempted. Sometimes, even, 
 if one is sure there are no matches in 
 their pockets, they are invited to dinner 
 in the evening." 
 
 Then becoming serious, she add- 
 ed, "My poor friend, do not for- 
 get that I have passed the incendiary 
 stage." 
 
 Such was the first interview when 
 Tarragnoz pleaded his cause, forgetting 
 to draw her out on the subject of Tu- 
 cheim, as he planned. This would in- 
 dicate that a good lover would make a
 
 192 THE DECISION 
 
 bad judge in criminal cases unless the 
 proof of guilt was overwhelming. 
 
 The case was not lost, but he was 
 wise enough to restrain himself for the 
 moment. Like a good tactician, Paul 
 decided that it was necessary to amuse 
 the enemy while awaiting the hour of 
 victory. His silence was all the more 
 welcome, as, without asking even for a 
 little love, he gave much and with timely 
 constancy, knowing when to be silent or 
 to speak, according to the disposition of 
 yalentine, which he divined with mar- 
 velous tact. He bore no resemblance to 
 a lover repulsed, morose and filled with 
 sighs. Besides, if he felt unhappy, he 
 consoled himself with the thought that 
 plenty of men would like to take his 
 place. Each day he was able to see
 
 THE DECISION 193 
 
 Valentine alone amid admirable and 
 poetic surroundings, and without being 
 importunate lie felt her confidence in 
 him increase. 
 
 When he was at the end of his visit, 
 commenced, continued and finished, 
 within a radius of three leagues around 
 Auray, the only visible result was that 
 his small Brittany horse knew by heart 
 the turnings of a certain path across the 
 fields. Upon this placid animal the 
 rider could dream at his ease, even when 
 he returned home by the light of the 
 moon. Whether he was actually mak- 
 ing progress toward the sought-f or end, 
 no one could conjecture, except perhaps 
 Madame Villedieu. She contentedly 
 observed the deep sadness which her 
 daughter was unable to conceal when
 
 194 THE DECISION 
 
 Paul went away. The correspondence 
 between the countess and the captain 
 became very active. On one side love 
 filled the pages, on the other it was a 
 question of anything but love; but the 
 beauty did not close her windows to the 
 serenade, and that was a good sign. 
 Meanwhile, autumn drew near its close. 
 According to Valentine, the early part 
 of November that year was particularly 
 rainy upon the coast of Morbihan. "Be- 
 sides," she wrote, "I pitied mamma and 
 allowed her to bring me back again to 
 the borders of the Yvette a little earlier 
 than usual. My sacrifice is diminished 
 by the pleasure it gives her." One 
 might well ask if the mother was the 
 only one in a hurry to see Paul again. 
 [However that might be, his calls were
 
 THIS WAS ALL THE CEREMONY OF THEIR BETROTHAL. 
 
 Page 195
 
 THE DECISION 195 
 
 resumed, and but a few evenings were 
 missed. Above all, he did not fail to 
 attend the first " Tuesday " of the rue 
 de 1'Yvette, and that afternoon, which 
 to them seemed radiant in spite of the 
 absent sun, Paul and Valentine found 
 themselves again united in the little 
 boudoir on the third floor. 
 
 A mysterious electricity vibrated in 
 the air, saying to the lovers, "At last 
 your hour has come." He fell on his 
 knees, this time without speaking, and 
 into his hands, like soft rosy fruit which 
 falls because the constant suns of sum- 
 mer have ripened it, the beautiful hand 
 of the young woman fell, delightfully 
 abandoned. Then he sought her lips. 
 This was all the ceremony of their be- 
 trothal.
 
 196 THE DECISION 
 
 Too quickly the tea which was sent 
 up disturbed their tete a tete. They 
 knew the sweet childishness of very 
 young lovers; the sugar tongs confis- 
 cated, the fingers which replaced them 
 kissed by eager lips and held for ran- 
 som, the perfumed beverage drunk from 
 the same cup all those innocent things 
 which are nothing yet signify every- 
 thing; and all too soon the clock struck 
 seven. Valentine exclaimed to herself, 
 ".What will my mother think?" 
 
 "Let us go to tell her." 
 
 "No; permit me to disobey you al- 
 ready. Let us not tell her this evening. 
 Let us deceive her, but can we do it? 
 after the fashion of those who love 
 smuggled goods and enjoy them in 
 secret. If you knew, dear, how for a
 
 197 
 
 long time I have hidden myself from 
 you ! In Brittany last summer, when I 
 blamed you for proposing an unequal 
 game of chance, for me the game was 
 already nearly lost." 
 
 Upon her lips, which the smile did 
 not at this time leave, Paul received the 
 stakes. Then he asked, "How long shall 
 we hide ourselves?" 
 
 * * How long ? ' ' said she. ' l For us time 
 no longer exists ; to millions of unhappy 
 beings this afternoon now ended would 
 have appeared interminable ; to us, has 
 it lasted a second?" 
 
 "No, my beloved. However, I am 
 only at the threshold of happiness, and 
 life is too short to lose a moment." 
 
 "Ah! but one period of mine was 
 long! Now go; my mother has no vis-
 
 198 THE DECISION 
 
 itor left, and she soon will come up here. 
 A single glance will tell her everything 
 if she sees us together. To-morrow, 
 when you arrive, my hair will be better 
 arranged." 
 
 "Yes, but I shall not then be able to 
 disarrange it." 
 
 "How do you know?" whispered she 
 in his ear. 1 1 Chance furnishes occasions 
 if we look for them."
 
 XI 
 
 "NOW YOU KNOW MY SECRET" 
 
 For one week they loved "in secret," 
 so unsuccessfully, in fact, that Madame 
 .Villedieu divined everything and was at 
 the acme of delight. Not wishing the 
 unhappiness of others, she arranged nu- 
 merous ' i chances. ' ' Paul, in their clan- 
 destine colloquies, declared that for a 
 thousand reasons the marriage ought to 
 take place in Paris in December. 
 .Valentine preferred Brittany with the 
 sun of May, the blue sky and the golden 
 furze. This great question resolved, 
 always in secret, they occupied them- 
 199
 
 selves with details. To tell the truth, 
 it was Valentine who arranged the de- 
 tails, for Paul he admitted it himself, 
 had become incapable of putting two 
 figures on a line or of arranging two 
 ideas. But Valentine thought of every- 
 thing, having a sure judgment and also 
 that straightforward conscience which 
 she appreciated in others. That was 
 why one morning Paul received these 
 pages relating "in detail" that which 
 he had completely lost sight of: 
 
 "Dear, you are goodness itself. You have 
 never asked me a question with reference to my 
 previous life, apparently taking it for granted, 
 to cite your somewhat studied speeches, that I 
 have in a drawer the decree proving that I am 
 free. That decree, in effect, I have. It proves 
 at the same time that I have, if not lied, at least 
 lived a lie. Although neither my person nor 
 my present situation would in fact be affected
 
 THE DECISION 201 
 
 if I kept silent, I would not be worthy of you if 
 I permitted the man whose name I shall bear 
 to believe that which I have made the world be- 
 lieve, not by knavery, but by Christian charity. 
 Beloved, master of my heart, judge me ! 
 
 "When one crosses a muddy road it is neces- 
 sary to walk fast; please understand what I am 
 about to say in a few words. The Count de la 
 Guernerie, a charming man and a fine conversa- 
 tionalist, accepted too quickly by my poor 
 mother I was but eighteen was possessed of a 
 terrible passion for gambling (you were sur- 
 prised at my repulsion at the sight of cards). 
 The love which he feigned was soon alienated* 
 One morning I learned that he had other vices. 
 Some miserable creatures held in their hands 
 that which remained of his reputation and even 
 his liberty, for they had the proofs. My dowry 
 was used to redeem those proofs. Then my 
 uncle, who had friendly relations with the chief 
 of police, obtained the necessary time for the 
 guilty man to disappear. The unhappy man 
 promised and to that he was faithful that no 
 one should ever hear him spoken of again. 
 
 "Then we invented facts for the world; a 
 story of married life that had become impossi-
 
 202 THE DECISION 
 
 ble ; the loss of money (that at least was not in- 
 vented) ; a separation by mutual consent ; 
 Madame distressed and anxious to complain, but 
 lacking the energy ; Monsieur starting for Amer- 
 ica, as much to forget the trouble as to repair 
 his fortune. As for me, I was able, thanks to 
 the kindness of my uncle, to hide myself in Brit- 
 tany in such manner that the scandal was soon 
 asleep. My mother and I, as you have seen, are 
 anxious not to awaken it. 
 
 ' ' Thus three years passed ; I never really felt 
 sorry, having never loved that man. What 
 made my life atrociously painful was the per- 
 sistent disgust attached to my soul, just as cer- 
 tain sickening odors seem continually in our 
 nostrils. Finally, I learned that the fallen gen- 
 tleman was dead and, this no one would have 
 predicted, he died like a gentleman and a good 
 Frenchman because that was one of his last 
 words he did not want his wife to spend all 
 her long life in despising him. In fact, my 
 friend, I have wept for him, and now pity is 
 mingled in my heart with other feelings. 
 
 "The count did not go to America. Passing 
 himself off for a Swiss named "Walter, he served 
 in the Foreign Legion. He found there one of
 
 THE DECISION 203 
 
 the most admirable men I have ever known, a 
 military doctor who will be, I think, seated on 
 high very near to Saint Vincent de Paul whose 
 charity he imitates. He received the laical con- 
 fession of the false Walter and his instructions 
 in case of a sudden end. He cared for him when 
 he was mortally wounded by a bullet, and it 
 was through him that I learned of my widow- 
 hood. 
 
 "Thanks to him, also, the funeral report bore 
 the true name of the dead man. Without that 
 what could we do? When I was able to talk 
 with the doctor I have seen him many times 
 he employed all of his eloquence to make me 
 admire the expiation, which was glorious and 
 terrible, as he recounted it to me. He insisted, 
 as if he were acting for a brother, that I grant 
 my pardon to a repentant sinner, and I have for- 
 given him. The doctor, Rudolph Tucheim 
 never forget the name is my friend. You will 
 yourself remember the meerschaum pipe which 
 we bought together in Carlsbad. It was for him 
 that it was destined. He has never been willing 
 to accept a more valuable souvenir. 
 
 "Now you know my secret, the only one in 
 my life. I might have kept it since, naturally,
 
 204 THE DECISION 
 
 it matters but little to you whether the count 
 died in the South or in the West, but my con- 
 science would have tortured me perpetually. 
 You compared your own on a certain day to too 
 narrow shoes. That phrase was the first that 
 drew me nearer to you. 
 
 ' ' I am quite near now, and I say to yon, good 
 night, my friend, praying you to burn these 
 pages. You will give me pleasure by never 
 mentioning them. 
 
 "A demain; I love you. 
 
 " VALENTINE. " 
 
 The phantom now resumed an atti- 
 tude which was not even a menace but 
 a joyful and cruel triumph. Tarragnoz 
 saw it in front of him, although it was 
 still broad daylight. To the convulsions 
 of physical torture, displayed ut the 
 highest pitch, there was joined upon the 
 visage of the dead a grin so odious that 
 for a moment all pity vanished from 
 the heart of Paul. From the wide open,
 
 THE DECISION 205 
 
 staring eyes one question came forth, a 
 question which the grinning lips, speech- 
 less forever, would never have been 
 able when animated to articulate more 
 clearly, "What are you going to do 
 now?" 
 
 At first a catastrophe appeared in- 
 evitable; but Paul decided to fall like 
 a soldier betrayed by fortune, over- 
 whelmed by numbers, not as an awk- 
 ward straggler knocked on the head at 
 the turn of the road. Above all, it was 
 necessary to think of Valentine. In 
 some way or other he must have twenty- 
 four hours in which to formulate a plan 
 of action. 
 
 "Poor little one," thought he, "like 
 yourself, I am going to lie, and for a 
 purpose not less excusable."
 
 206 THE DECISION 
 
 Then lie sent this despatch to the rue 
 de 1'Yvette: 
 
 'Received your communication at the mo- 
 ment of mounting my horse for an unexpected 
 inspection. It is probable that we shall return 
 in the middle of the night. Do not look for me 
 before to-morrow. Is it necessary for me to say, 
 that I admire you still more, but I could not love 
 you more than I do." 
 
 The clock indicated nine in the morn- 
 ing. Having obtained from his chief 
 the evening before leave of absence 
 for the entire day, he was obliged 
 during the short truce to imagine 
 some way to reply to the terrible 
 question. But suddenly another ques- 
 tion came to his distracted mind: 
 "Can I marry the widow of the man I 
 killed?" 
 
 Was he and this doubt returned to
 
 THE DECISION 207 
 
 him for the thousandth time a veri- 
 table criminal, or a victim of fate placed 
 in a situation which suspended the 
 effect of the moral law? Until now 
 he had never consulted with anyone 
 upon this question of conscience, which 
 he had thought would remain purely 
 theoretical since the dead never leave 
 their tomb. Alas ! His dead had come 
 to life under another name. His name 
 was not Walter, but the Count de la 
 Guernerie. "It matters but little to 
 you," his widow had written, "whether 
 my husband died in the South or in the 
 West." On the contrary, it signified a 
 great deal. 
 
 The fragile vessel of the human mind, 
 when the tempest blows, is in a few sec- 
 onds carried from one pole to the other
 
 208 THE DECISION 
 
 of decision. In turn, Paul resolved to 
 remain silent and marry Valentine; 
 then lie decided to break with her for- 
 ever under some pretext; then to ac- 
 cept her as arbitrator and abide by her 
 judgment. Would the recollection of 
 each one of his caresses cause her to 
 shudder with horror? Would she ever 
 be able to see him again? He was al- 
 ways brought back to the one question, 
 recapitulating all the others. ''Have I 
 committed a crime or am I the victim 
 of a fatality?" 
 
 Perhaps one can imagine the chaos of 
 an intellect which for three years had 
 interrogated itself in doubt and solitude. 
 On one hand Paul lacked the severe but 
 luminous principle of divine moral dog- 
 ma; on the other, he had never been
 
 THE DECISION 209 
 
 able to open his heart to any confidant 
 whatsoever. 
 
 Rudolph Tucheim was marked for 
 such a role, but Paul would first have to 
 say to him, "It was you who, deceived 
 by a lie, furnished me with the deadly 
 poison." 
 
 Thus, beaten by the most violent in- 
 ward tempest that he had ever known in 
 his life, it seemed to the unhappy Paul 
 that he had lived many hours since he 
 opened the envelope, which was just 
 like so many others except that they had 
 been full of hope and gladness. How- 
 ever, toward the solution of the ques- 
 tion which must be settled and which 
 might prove to be a new fatality or a 
 new crime, he had not advanced a step. 
 His eyes sought the clock quarter past
 
 210 THE DECISION 
 
 nine. He took his hat and went out, 
 fearing, if he prolonged this tete a tete 
 with himself, that he would lose a con- 
 siderable part of his reason, already in- 
 sufficient to pull him out of his frightful 
 dilemma. 
 
 Having walked for some time at ran- 
 dom, he found himself before the portal 
 of a church. The faithful were entering 
 or leaving, slowly or in haste, carrying 
 upon their faces a tranquillity which 
 Tarragnoz sorrowfully envied. Sud- 
 denly he remembered a remark which 
 Rudolph Tucheim had made to him, 
 "Yes, I go to confession; if you knew 
 how good it is." Without hesitating, 
 he went up the steps, wishing to try, 
 not the sacrament, but the right which 
 all men possess to say to the priest:
 
 THE DECISION 211 
 
 " Listen to me! I know that my secret 
 will die with you." Already, in his 
 thirst for any remedy whatever, he was 
 troubled at being obliged to wait. On 
 the further side of the church he met a 
 white-haired ecclesiastic directing his 
 steps toward the door. 
 
 "Without disturbing you too much," 
 asked Paul, "are you able to grant me 
 a few moments' conversation?" 
 
 The old abbe smiled without replying, 
 but his gesture signified, "I am not here 
 for anything else." 
 
 "When they were alone in a sacristy, 
 the priest paused to see if the visitor 
 would seat himself or kneel. Paul took 
 a chair. Eager for relief, without seek- 
 ing a preliminary explanation, he com- 
 menced with the words:
 
 212 THE DECISION 
 
 "I killed a man three years ago. 
 At that time the act seemed to me 
 to be lawful. Since then I have 
 had doubts and I consult you be- 
 cause you have wisdom and experi- 
 ence." 
 
 "Experience, at least. Am I right in 
 assuming that this was the result of a 
 duel?" 
 
 "No, but a deliverance implored with 
 shrieks of pain which are ringing in my 
 ears at this moment." 
 
 Paul recounted the lugubrious his- 
 tory; then he remained silent, his eyes 
 fixed upon the impassive face of his 
 auditor. The priest meditated a short 
 time before putting this question, "If I 
 understand you correctly, you pretend 
 that your conscience was not opposed
 
 THE DECISION 213 
 
 to the deliverance accomplished by 
 
 "The doctor had declared that death 
 would be certain and inevitable, even in 
 the best hospital in Paris." 
 
 "Did you consult him upon the law- 
 ful or unlawful character of the act pre- 
 meditated by you?'* 
 
 "He would not listen to me. 'In such 
 a case,' said he, 'a doctor has not even 
 the right to ask the question.' " 
 
 "No more have I, a priest. Non oc- 
 cides. Minister and servant of God, 
 think you I can discuss a command- 
 ment, troublesome in certain cases I ad- 
 mit, but perfectly clear to my under- 
 standing and also as clear as any com- 
 mand you have ever received from your 
 superior officers?"
 
 214 THE DECISION 
 
 "And that is all that you, a minister 
 and servant of God, are able to do for 
 me I" 
 
 "On the contrary, I can indeed do for 
 you that which is given to no human 
 power. I can, if God accords you the 
 grace of sincere repentance, send you 
 away in peace, with your conscience de- 
 livered of its burden." 
 
 "Our understanding of the word con- 
 science is not the same. Mine is human 
 because I am a man." 
 
 "The human conscience, as you call 
 it, means something else. In my eyes, a 
 determination contrary to the catechism 
 bears the same relation that a soldier's 
 conscience, contrary to discipline, does 
 in yours. It is reason substituted for 
 the superior rule. But see where this
 
 THE DECISION 215 
 
 brings you ! Your reason disturbs you 
 to-day as a result of the act which it 
 permitted you to commit yesterday." 
 
 "Perhaps we ought to regret the blind 
 faith of the vanished ages, but one last 
 question. This time I address myself 
 to the sage who knows all the compli- 
 cations of life, and not to the priest. 
 Suppose, in this case, that the man who 
 delivered the dying one is on the point 
 of marrying the widow. Do you decide 
 that he could proceed?" 
 
 "Ah ! there is a beautiful proof of the 
 usefulness of the catechism. Those who 
 have not passed in it have not the least 
 idea of the number of complications that 
 it turns aside even in the material ex- 
 istence. If the man of your hypothesis 
 had obeyed the commandment, Non oc-
 
 216 THE DECISION 
 
 tides, he would be a very worthy hus- 
 band, after having been a friend, de- 
 voted to the point of heroism. What 
 more can I say 1 You summon me as a 
 pilot for a vessel whose compass you 
 have abolished." 
 
 "You can at least pray for the crew 
 in the wreck." 
 
 "That I shall do with all my heart. 
 You are very unhappy?" 
 
 "I do not think there are many men 
 more unhappy than I at this moment. 
 We shall meet again, perhaps." 
 
 "That, among other blessings, is the 
 one that I shall ask for you."
 
 XII 
 
 THE REVELATION 
 
 Paul, once more alone with his an- 
 guish in the tumult of the street, thought 
 at first "I am no further advanced." 
 Nevertheless, the calm silence of the 
 church, the sympathetic words of the 
 priest, brought to him an astonishing 
 pacification of the nerves. The phantom 
 held itself discreetly in the background, 
 estimating, doubtless, that a creditor 
 ought to accord to the debtor the time 
 to turn himself after legal action is 
 taken. 
 
 Suddenly, almost unexpectedly, the 
 217
 
 218 THE DECISION 
 
 truth appeared very clear to the eyes of 
 Tarragnoz, as an island rises suddenly 
 out of the mist when the breeze awakens. 
 
 "No," admitted he, "I can no longer 
 think of taking the place of the man I 
 killed. It matters not whether I hasten 
 the certain end by an hour or by a day. 
 It was I who gave him the merciful 
 stroke. No one knows anything of it. 
 Even she might remain in ignorance 
 of it all her life. But my life, already 
 haunted, would be nothing but a night- 
 mare, poisoning each moment, even the 
 sweetest. It is necessary to say adieu 
 to her. But how?" 
 
 His heart was almost broken when he 
 pictured her despair. He would have 
 embraced a stranger who came to him 
 saying, "Thou shalt not see her again;
 
 THE DECISION 219 
 
 thou shalt no more hear her name. But 
 be ye without disquietude ; the secrets of 
 the magicians are mine ; with one stroke 
 of the wand I will make her forget and 
 be happy." 
 
 Alas! magicians have disappeared. 
 He would have to act for himself. As 
 he walked he considered the different 
 modes of action which offered them- 
 selves to him. 
 
 To kill himself ? Surely, that was the 
 simplest way ; but by his death he would 
 displace the question without explain- 
 ing it. Instead of explaining why he 
 did not marry Valentine, it would be 
 necessary to explain why he had taken 
 his own life two whys making but one. 
 To break with her gradually ? To make 
 her believe that he was unfaithful?
 
 220 THE DECISION 
 
 That would be a grotesque comedy above 
 the powers of any man. Besides, he 
 knew only too well that some day, see- 
 ing her sad or indignant, he would 
 throw off the mask and, falling to the 
 knees of the only woman that the world 
 contained for him, he would bring mat- 
 ters back to the same point. 
 
 The same terrible conclusion forced 
 itself on him at every turn. He must 
 imitate the loyal frankness of Valentine 
 and recite to her the drama. By word 
 of mouth? Many reasons dissuaded 
 him from that course. The principal 
 one was this : The history of the affair 
 finished, he would be obliged to endure 
 the anguish of the last scene, of the sep- 
 aration, of the word of farewell thrown 
 with horror, or still more frightful
 
 THE DECISION 221 
 
 with tearful lamenting. Then it would 
 be better to write, as she herself had 
 given him the example. At once he 
 gave his aimless course the right direc- 
 tion and proceeded toward his home, 
 surprised to discover that he had not 
 left his own neighborhood. It seemed 
 as if he had walked many miles. A! 
 clock indicated to him that it was but 
 half -past ten and that caused this des- 
 perate reflection: "Would he have to 
 go on twenty or thirty years at this co- 
 efficient of velocity?" 
 
 But he was anxious not to divert his 
 mind from the task imposed, the most 
 difficult, without doubt, that anyone in 
 the world had before him, for he dis- 
 covered that an action, considered al- 
 most a duty at the tune and place, took
 
 222 THE DECISION 
 
 on a facetious resemblance to a crime 
 pure and simple when lie was obliged to 
 justify it before any tribunal whatever. 
 His defense consisted in showing to the 
 wife disarmed by the expiation her 
 husband dying in torture, begging for 
 death with the cries of an animal dis- 
 sected alive and the doctor himself, pale 
 with horror, powerless, making the sign 
 which condemned without hope. 
 
 The doctor! Paul rapped Ms fore- 
 head and the passerby might well have 
 imagined by the brightening up of his 
 face that they were meeting an inventor 
 who had finally mastered his idea. Ru- 
 dolph Tucheim, the best witness for the 
 prisoner that he could summon in this 
 lost cause, was also the best adapted to 
 perform the mission. That safe man
 
 THE DECISION 223 
 
 had already accomplished a similar task 
 in the prologue of the denouement 
 about to explode. 
 
 It was true that Tarragnoz would 
 first be obliged to confess his deception ; 
 he had by a falsehood obtained the mor- 
 phine entreated by the dying man. He 
 might expect harsh words from the 
 mouth of his old friend his shoulders 
 raised with pity. 
 
 "Poor Tucheim!" thought he, "I will 
 listen to every word without becoming 
 angry in my present situation!" 
 
 He had already jumped into a cab. 
 Unfortunately, as the journey was long, 
 he had too much time for reflection, so 
 that he made the affair complex when 
 in reality it was very simple. 
 
 "My ambassador is also my rival,"
 
 224 THE DECISION 
 
 thought he. "Without doubt he is, or 
 rather he was, an unhappy rival, consid- 
 ering Valentine as a queen placed above 
 all longing. All the same, he told me 
 that 'the queen' had divined his folly." 
 [What a triumph for a lover who hopes 
 for nothing, to be able to place at the 
 foot of the throne the head of the man 
 who had hoped for everything! 
 
 This entrance of jealousy upon the 
 scene at the moment when Tarragnoz 
 was already suffering a thousand deaths 
 was for him a refinement of torture. 
 
 "Return!" cried he to the driver. 
 Then thinking he would be obliged to 
 write the terrible letter, "No," ordered 
 he at once, "continue." 
 
 "Idiot!" murmured the driver of the 
 cab.
 
 THE DECISION 225 
 
 When the doctor ten minutes later 
 opened his door for the captain, it was 
 almost an enemy, without knowing it, 
 that he had in his presence. 
 
 "I come to bring you some very 
 agreeable news," announced Tarragnoz, 
 after formally shaking hands with the 
 doctor. 
 
 "You do not have that appearance," 
 observed Tucheim, becoming serious in 
 the presence of the understood sarcasm. 
 
 "Even if the news is good, it is not so 
 for me ; permit me to proceed rapidly. 
 I came to solicit your kindness, to ask 
 you to perform an act which no other 
 living being would know better how to 
 accomplish." 
 
 "And of what does it consist!" 
 
 "I want you to inform the Countess
 
 226 THE DECISION 
 
 de la Guernerie at the earliest moment 
 of the breaking of my engagement with 
 her. Let me say in passing that you 
 ought to have warned me that my ex- 
 sergeant Walter had been her husband. 
 I presume that you were in her confi- 
 dence." 
 
 "Yes, it was I who informed the 
 countess of her widowhood. Upon my 
 return to Paris I talked with her, as I 
 had promised. I have seen her many 
 times. She has been pleased to say that 
 she is grateful to me, but, upon my 
 honor, I was ignorant of your engage- 
 ment." 
 
 "Be that as it may, it is impossible 
 for me to marry the widow of Ser- 
 geant Walter. That probably astonishes 
 you."
 
 THE DECISION 227 
 
 "No," said Tucheim, without looking 
 at the captain, "I understand your 
 scruples." 
 
 "You know then?" 
 
 "I know that you asked me for a flask 
 of morphine for yourself, at the time 
 when your companion was suffering 
 God will bear witness the most terri- 
 ble pain that the human organism could 
 know. I know that the death of the 
 wounded of the condemned man su- 
 pervened soon after you receired the 
 flask. Your manner of looking at the 
 question of life and death was not the 
 same as mine ; it was easy for me to put 
 the facts together, so that your decision 
 surprised me but little, although I was 
 able to measure the bitterness of it." 
 
 "Please do not insist. I count upon
 
 228 THE DECISION 
 
 you to explain to the countess that it is 
 not an inexcusable criminal who disap- 
 pears from her life. Even if I com- 
 mitted a sin, show to her that my pun- 
 ishment is hard enough to merit her 
 pity. But you will say what is neces- 
 sary. I am not disturbed upon that 
 point. Besides, I imagine that the 
 embassy is not unpleasant to you." 
 
 This time the gray eyes of the Alsa- 
 tian did not refuse the battle. Paul had 
 no trouble in reading the question which 
 they clearly asked. He responded, 
 with his hand pointing towards the ta- 
 ble, "I was with the countess when she 
 chose that meerschaum pipe. She de- 
 signed the monogram in my presence. 
 'The present of a queen' you said to 
 me."
 
 THE DECISION 229 
 
 "Yes," interrupted Tucheim, "the 
 one time in my life when I was not 
 known to keep a secret. But I have 
 never aspired to marry Madame de la 
 Guernerie. I think you are convinced 
 of that." 
 
 "No matter; you know the proverbs 
 of the Arabs: 'The dog does not eat the 
 hay, yet he bites the goat which wants 
 to eat the hay.' Come, doctor, you have 
 a fine opportunity to remove the 
 wretched goat forever from the flowers 
 of the meadow." 
 
 "Yes, the opportunity would be fine 
 for a dishonest man." 
 
 "What would be the dishonesty in 
 your going to the countess and telling 
 her that I killed her husband I That is 
 what I ask you to do."
 
 230 THE DECISION 
 
 "Captain, you did not kill Sergeant 
 Walter." 
 
 "Alas! With these hands I gave the 
 unhappy man three injections of your 
 morphine, stroke by stroke, without 
 even withdrawing the needle from the 
 skin," 
 
 "I was certain you would do it, and 
 that was why my morphine was not 
 morphine. I made a liquid for you of 
 the same appearance, but less danger- 
 ous. Had I refused you, God knows 
 what other means you would have 
 taken." 
 
 "Yet he died almost immediately." 
 
 "Perhaps his hour had come, or, in- 
 deed, that it was a case of auto-sugges- 
 tion. We do not know how far that 
 can go. I have never seen a stranger
 
 THE DECISION 231 
 
 case. Whatever it was, you did not kill 
 the Count de la Guernerie. Conse- 
 quently seek no longer for an ambassa- 
 dor. That shows you that a 'parson 7 
 can be of some use." 
 
 "Will you shake hands with me?" 
 said Tarragnoz, with tears in his eyes. 
 
 The men separated after a hearty 
 hand clasp. One of them again took 
 the cab and gave the driver an address 
 which may be guessed; the other filled 
 his meerschaum pipe, looked at it for a 
 long time and, without lighting it, placed 
 it upon the table. When a smoker sulks 
 his tobacco it indicates, as everyone 
 knows, that he is passing a bad crisis.
 
 XIII 
 
 THE DECISION" 
 
 "The ladies are still at luncheon, 
 captaim" 
 
 The visitor came down to earth at 
 this response, which he received in the 
 rue de ITvette. The announcement 
 that the ladies were still at dinner 
 would have surprised him less, for since 
 reading his morning mail the idea of 
 duration of time, which is our interior 
 clock, no longer operated in his brain. 
 
 "I will return soon," said he to the 
 servant. 
 
 He started to walk along the neigh- 
 232
 
 THE DECISION 233 
 
 boring streets, which at that time were 
 almost deserted. 
 
 Did not this respite come opportunely 
 to prevent a false movement by which 
 he would risk foundering his ship with- 
 in sight of port? He would have run 
 to the feet of Valentine and related to 
 her, while thrilled with delight, the fear 
 which he had had of losing her. He 
 thought only of himself, of the bound 
 that he had made in a single morning 
 from felicity to despair, from despair to 
 happiness recovered. But he was not 
 the only one interested in that question. 
 Although satisfied himself, the situation 
 threatened to appear less simple to a 
 woman, and especially to a woman sub- 
 ject to religious scruples. Innocent of 
 the fact, was he not guilty of the in-
 
 234 THE DECISION 
 
 tention $ Without doubt the words pro- 
 nounced by Tucheim in Algeria and by 
 the priest two hours earlier would again 
 find themselves in the mouth of Valen- 
 tine. Non occides! What conclusion 
 would be drawn? What sentence ren- 
 dered? Was it wise to confess his sin, 
 to seek a judge there who would weigh 
 her verdict, when he could if he chose 
 to remain silent, find only a loving 
 woman opening her arms ? Why speak $ 
 Why disturb the peace of a happy soul f 
 Tucheim, the safest of confidants, had 
 declared "You did not kill!" 
 
 But Reason, the guide, better inspired 
 this time than it was by the bedside of 
 Walter, presented to him this dilemma : 
 "If your fiancee determines that no bar- 
 rier exists between you, would it not be
 
 THE DECISION 235 
 
 better to have her affirm it ? If, in her 
 eyes, a barrier exists, by what name 
 should a man be called who would dare 
 to overleap it ? How could he speak of 
 love to his wife possessed through sur- 
 prise and ignorance? And how scorn- 
 ful would be the laugh of the grinning 
 phantom lying in wait for the nuptial 
 bed!" 
 
 "I will speak," decided Tarragnoz, 
 "and I will speak at once." 
 
 As this was the "day" of Madame 
 Villedieu, on leaving the table she had 
 returned to her room in order to dress, 
 a proceeding which always took consid- 
 erable time. Madame de la Guernerie, 
 at the sight of Paul, manifested a happy 
 surprise. 
 
 "This, then, is the t unexpected in-
 
 236 THE DECISION 
 
 spection' that your telegram announced ! 
 What an idea to come so early. Of 
 course you have had your luncheon, for 
 without it I hope that you would not 
 take a hundred steps in the street. Why 
 this strange appearance, my dear ! Are 
 you going to start off, seat yourself, or 
 remain standing?" 
 
 She looked at him more closely, be- 
 came a little pale, and, lowering her 
 voice, asked: "Was it my letter that 
 put you in this state? Did you come 
 to tell me that?" 
 
 "I came to tell you that I love 
 you." 
 
 "Ah, well! Then?" 
 
 "I also came to tell you that it was I 
 who picked up your Sergeant Walter 
 when he fell, yonder!"
 
 THE DECISION 237 
 
 Valentine uttered a stifled cry. "Let 
 us go up to my boudoir," said she. 
 
 When they were sheltered from all 
 indiscreet ears, she spoke. * ' It was you, 
 then, who risked your life for him? 
 Doctor Tucheim doubtless mentioned 
 your name, but the name was unknown 
 to me and I confess I have done my 
 best to forget that end " 
 
 "You might say, that rehabilitation." 
 
 "Yes, it might be a rehabilitation in 
 the eyes of others. In fact I have par- 
 doned him." 
 
 "As a good Christian ; but who knows 
 if the good Christian that you are will 
 be able to absolve me 1 
 
 "For the second time this morning 
 the same recital is imposed upon me. 
 It will be hard to listen to, for you who
 
 238 * THE DECISION 
 
 love me and whom I love. In a mo- 
 ment, perhaps, you will have only hor- 
 ror for me. But this is the occasion for 
 me to repeat my parable a propos of 
 conscience. Could I drag myself along 
 by your side the rest of my life with 
 aching feet? No, I will not!" 
 
 "I think," said she, "I could pardon 
 you for anything save having been 
 wanting in honor, but I have no fear 
 upon that point." 
 
 "My honor is safe," said Paul, "as to 
 the rest we shall soon see." 
 
 He commenced the history of that 
 night, which he would gladly forget, but 
 which fate obliged him constantly to re- 
 member. Tucheim, out of pity for the 
 nerves of one poor woman, had not 
 given to the picture its poignant relief.
 
 THE DECISION 239 
 
 Paul, on the contrary, advocate of Ms 
 own cause, made no attempt to mitigate 
 the horror. He was careful to compel 
 his judge to pass through the same 
 anguish that determined the final act; 
 pleading insanity, he was at least ob- 
 liged to show that a man could become 
 mad, after enduring such frightful 
 hours. 
 
 This desperate eloquence, he could 
 see, did not fail to produce its effect. 
 Madame de la Guernerie, her hands 
 clasped, her eyes closed, submitted to 
 the ordeal without speaking, without 
 failing, except through her shudderings 
 as she listened to the words of Tarrag- 
 noz. But when he related his visit to 
 Tucheim, the morphine requested and 
 promised, Valentine, hiding her face
 
 240 THE DECISION 
 
 in her hands and unable to restrain an 
 exclamation of fright 
 
 "Pray say no more ! I understand 
 and you are in my house! Could 
 nothing stop you? Great Heaven!" 
 
 "I am here because Tucheim sent me. 
 Just now he said to me, 'That which I 
 gave you that night was not morphine. 
 You had no hand in the death of the 
 unfortunate man.' Shall I bring you 
 his testimony? He is ready to come." 
 
 "No, I believe you. But you wanted 
 to Ull!" 
 
 There was a painful silence; then 
 giving way again, she softly wept. 
 Paul, fearing that these tears were but 
 the eternal adieu to their hopes, humbly 
 supplicated, "Have pity for me for 
 yourself, since you love me. Do not say
 
 THE DECISION 241 
 
 the word which will disunite our lives. 
 See the things as they are ; the death of 
 no man is between us." 
 
 She again repeated, "No, but you 
 wanted to kill!" 
 
 Then he tried another argument. 
 "Dare I cite to you the precept which I 
 have always admired? ' Judge not!' 
 iWho knows, had you found yourself in 
 my place, what course you would have 
 followed." 
 
 "Since you cite our precepts, do not 
 forget the one which would have guided 
 me, 'Thou shalt not kill,' and had you 
 heeded that we should have never known 
 the anguish of the present moment." 
 
 Her tears redoubled. Paul under- 
 standing that the order of arrest trem- 
 bled upon the lips of the judge, fell upon
 
 242 THE DECISION 
 
 his knees. He did not even presume to 
 touch the hand of Valentine, for he was 
 in terror. For the third time since 
 morning the irresistible commandment 
 came back to his ear: Non occides. 
 
 Madame de la Guernerie finally dried 
 her eyes and with a firm voice pro- 
 nounced this sentence, which Paul wel- 
 comed with ecstasy, as it was only ban- 
 ishment for a week he expected some- 
 thing more grievous. 
 
 " Tuesday, at this hour, we will see 
 each other again if in the interval I 
 have not manifested to you a contrary 
 desire. Now leave me. I can bear no 
 more." 
 
 Tarragnoz, decidedly consecrated to 
 the unusual, experienced each morning 
 an impression which was as remote as
 
 THE DECISION 243 
 
 possible from the commonplace, in the 
 fear that he would perceive in his mail 
 the writing of the woman he adored. 
 Every morning he turned his eyes away 
 when his orderly brought him his let- 
 ters, not wishing anyone to see his face 
 if the suspended sword fell upon him. 
 As he slept but little, he was not dis- 
 turbed by nightmares and the phantom 
 remained invisible. Besides, his real 
 nightmare in the future would no longer 
 be upon the frontiers of Morocco, but 
 in a small house in the rue de l*Yvette. 
 The Tuesday following, no thunder 
 having rolled in that direction, he 
 started after a luncheon as unappre- 
 ciated as the one he had forgotten on 
 his table eight days previous. Twenty 
 times since morning he had oscillated
 
 244. THE DECISION 
 
 from liope to fear. Hope said to him, 
 "She would not be so cruel as to make 
 you come only to immolate you with her 
 hand." "She might, indeed, wish to jus- 
 tify in your sight her condemnation," 
 suggested Fear. In the presence of 
 Valentine he found himself not much 
 advanced, her appearance was so grave 
 and serious. She extended her hand to 
 him and her straightforward, honest 
 look did not turn aside with the con- 
 fusion of a tender approbation. Evi- 
 dently this was not to be a question of 
 tenderness. 
 
 "I have," said she, " reflected much 
 and prayed much for you, perhaps still 
 more than for myself. Two considera- 
 tions trace for me my duty. First, I 
 have made you a sacred promise ; next,
 
 THE DECISION 245 
 
 in the eyes of the world, nothing author- 
 ized me to break it." 
 
 The court evidently did not desire to 
 condemn, but Paul felt that he was be- 
 fore a stern tribunal. Relieved by Val- 
 entine's words of his fear of losing her t 
 the thought that he might no longer find 
 the same heart in the same woman, 
 caused him but little less terror. He 
 sadly formulated this plaint, which was 
 the all or nothing of a veritable lover. 
 
 1 i It is not the payment of a debt which 
 I ask for. Do you fear a legal process ?" 
 
 " Perhaps," admitted she. 
 
 Astonished at this language so un- 
 usual, and dreading other wounds, Paul 
 remained silent. She divined the suf- 
 fering inflicted. "Let us understand 
 each other. The adversary which at-
 
 246 THE DECISION 
 
 tacks me is myself, not you. During 
 this long week it was against myself 
 that I kept up this horribly obscure 
 process. In the eyes of the world, I re- 
 peat once more, nothing separates us. 
 Human morality would probably ab- 
 solve you as it has formed your reason ; 
 but there is a divine morality, which is 
 my morality. Before my conscience you 
 are guilty of a murder by intention." 
 
 "Then," groaned Tarragnoz, "it was 
 to hear an adieu that I came?" 
 
 "Have I the right to reproach you 
 for a situation which is my fault ? You 
 honestly warned me during our first 
 meeting. In your soul the place of re- 
 ligious dogma remains empty. It was 
 dangerous for our future, but becoming 
 blind you know how I have gone on.
 
 THE DECISION 247 
 
 No, I have not the right to punish you. 
 So much the worse for me if I suffer 
 from it." 
 
 "And I have promised you that you 
 will be the happiest of women!" 
 
 "I shall not be the happiest of women 
 in certain respects. I shall tremble 
 night and day at the thought of that 
 other life, which may separate us if you 
 leave this world with a crime upon your 
 conscience ; but, inspired by my love, I 
 shall unceasingly offer one prayer which 
 some day will be granted. Then, oh! 
 my dear, I shall be the happiest of 
 women in all truth." 
 
 Paul, without responding, consid- 
 ered the extent, until then ignored, 
 of the sacrifice that he had just re- 
 ceived.
 
 248 THE DECISION 
 
 "How much nobler you are than I," 
 sighed he. 
 
 "I am not nobler, but perhaps I love 
 better. Courage ! The hoped for hour 
 will come, even if it requires a miracle. 
 Let us try to smile. Come and embrace 
 your wife!" 
 
 Astonished to see that he did not 
 hasten to obey, she interrogated him 
 with the tender look of her beautiful 
 eyes. 
 
 "Keep your kiss," said he, "for the 
 moment when you shall no longer see 
 upon my brow that which frightens 
 your faithful heart." 
 
 Valentine understood, but, not wish- 
 ing to extract a conversion as others 
 would extract a gift of jewels "Do not 
 go too fast," counseled she, her voice
 
 THE DECISION 249 
 
 again becoming grave. "If you are 
 saying this merely to satisfy the caprice 
 of a devotee I should rather have you 
 remain an unbeliever. I have never 
 been able to pardon Henry IV. for hav- 
 ing said, if he really did say it, that 
 Paris was well worth one mass." 
 i "We shall not go too fast, dear 
 Saint," said Tarragnoz, kissing her 
 hand, "and to show you that this is 
 serious, you will not see me for some 
 days ; and during that time a mass will 
 be worth more than Paris."
 
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