The supper gave some life to the ball.If the military disasters forbade the delights of dancing, every one felt that they need not exclude the pleasures of the table.The true patriots, however, retired early; only the more indifferent remained, together with a few card players and the intimate friends of the family.Little by little the brilliantly lighted house, to which all the notabilities of Douai had flocked, sank into silence, and by one o'clock in the morning the great gallery was deserted, the lights were extinguished in one salon after another, and the court-yard, lately so bustling and brilliant, grew dark and gloomy,--prophetic image of the future that lay before the family.When the Claes returned to their own appartement, Balthazar gave his wife the letter he had received from the Polish officer: Josephine returned it with a mournful gesture; she foresaw the coming doom.
From that day forth, Balthazar made no attempt to disguise the weariness and the depression that assailed him.In the mornings, after the family breakfast, he played for awhile in the parlor with little Jean, and talked to his daughters, who were busy with their sewing, or embroidery or lace-work; but he soon wearied of the play and of the talk, and seemed at last to get through with them as a duty.When his wife came down again after dressing, she always found him sitting in an easy-chair looking blankly at Marguerite and Felicie, quite undisturbed by the rattle of their bobbins.When the newspaper was brought in, he read it slowly like a retired merchant at a loss how to kill the time.Then he would get up, look at the sky through the window panes, go back to his chair and mend the fire drearily, as though he were deprived of all consciousness of his own movements by the tyranny of ideas.
Madame Claes keenly regretted her defects of education and memory.It was difficult for her to sustain an interesting conversation for any length of time; perhaps this is always difficult between two persons who have said everything to each other, and are forced to seek for subjects of interest outside the life of the heart, or the life of material existence.The life of the heart has its own moments of expansion which need some stimulus to bring them forth; discussions of material life cannot long occupy superior minds accustomed to decide promptly; and the mere gossip of society is intolerable to loving natures.Consequently, two isolated beings who know each other thoroughly ought to seek their enjoyments in the higher regions of thought; for it is impossible to satisfy with paltry things the immensity of the relation between them.Moreover, when a man has accustomed himself to deal with great subjects, he becomes unamusable, unless he preserves in the depths of his heart a certain guileless simplicity and unconstraint which often make great geniuses such charming children; but the childhood of the heart is a rare human phenomenon among those whose mission it is to see all, know all, and comprehend all.
During these first months, Madame Claes worked her way through this critical situation, by unwearying efforts, which love or necessity suggested to her.She tried to learn backgammon, which she had never been able to play, but now, from an impetus easy to understand, she ended by mastering it.Then she interested Balthazar in the education of his daughters, and asked him to direct their studies.All such resources were, however, soon exhausted.There came a time when Josephine's relation to Balthazar was like that of Madame de Maintenon to Louis XIV.; she had to amuse the unamusable, but without the pomps of power or the wiles of a court which could play comedies like the sham embassies from the King of Siam and the Shah of Persia.After wasting the revenues of France, Louis XIV., no longer young or successful, was reduced to the expedients of a family heir to raise the money he needed; in the midst of his grandeur he felt his impotence, and the royal nurse who had rocked the cradles of his children was often at her wit's end to rock his, or soothe the monarch now suffering from his misuse of men and things, of life and God.
Claes, on the contrary, suffered from too much power.Stifling in the clutch of a single thought, he dreamed of the pomps of Science, of treasures for the human race, of glory for himself.He suffered as artists suffer in the grip of poverty, as Samson suffered beneath the pillars of the temple.The result was the same for the two sovereigns;though the intellectual monarch was crushed by his inward force, the other by his weakness.
What could Pepita do, singly, against this species of scientific nostalgia? After employing every means that family life afforded her, she called society to the rescue, and gave two "cafes" every week.
Cafes at Douai took the place of teas.A cafe was an assemblage which, during a whole evening, the guests sipped the delicious wines and liqueurs which overflow the cellars of that ever-blessed land, ate the Flemish dainties and took their "cafe noir" or their "cafe au lait frappe," while the women sang ballads, discussed each other's toilettes, and related the gossip of the day.It was a living picture by Mieris or Terburg, without the pointed gray hats, the scarlet plumes, or the beautiful costumes of the sixteenth century.And yet, Balthazar's efforts to play the part of host, his constrained courtesy, his forced animation, left him the next day in a state of languor which showed but too plainly the depths of the inward ill.
