The House by Henry Bordeaux

I HARDLY slept that night, and in my half slumber I confused the holy war for independence with my loss of Nazzarena. My love was a part of that liberty which grandfather vaunted, and for which he had carried a gun. When morning came it found me firmly resolved not to go to school, but to take my last chance of being present when the circus troop departed. The farewell of the evening before had been disappointing. Not being prepared, I had found nothing to say. Surely, things couldn't end that way.

I complained of a headache, and found ready credence. I understood that I was supposed to be upset by the scene in the Café of the Navigators. Aunt Deen even brought me secretly a frothing and tasty mulled egg, good for headaches, and so delicious that I enjoyed it in spite of my grief -- at which I was inwardly humiliated.

"You'll stay in bed till noon," she said, as she carried away the cup, adding -- she, too! --

"Poor child!"

At which my gratitude to her immediately vanished, for I had no idea of being considered a child any longer, since I was in love.

As soon as she was gone I dressed hastily, but not without a certain care, and ran up to the tower chamber, where grandfather received me with surprise, and some signs of pleasure.

"They let you come up? " he asked.

Why should he ask? I had asked permission of no one. He merely shrugged his shoulders and became the philosopher once more -- "Oh, it's all the same to me."

The four windows of the tower commanded all the roads. It was my plan to watch from this lookout for the train of waggons. They were loaded, they would advance slowly. I calculated that I should have time to overtake them. Which way would they go? I had no notion. I imagined that they would take the road for Italy, and I watched that one especially.

I had stationed myself before one of the windows, half hidden by a piece of furniture, when there came a knock at the door and father entered. I thought he had come for me, and I at once knew that in spite of my resolutions I should not resist. He had the same calm and irresistible air of authority that he had had the evening before; but, absorbed in his purpose, he did not so much as see me, and as he walked directly to grandfather he even turned his back to me. Unless I intervened he would not know I was there. After a brief but courteous salutation he showed the newspaper he had in his hand -- a local journal.

"This paper announces that you are presenting yourself for election at the head of the list of the Left. Is that so, father?"

I could divine under the interrogative form of the simple phrase that he was inwardly boiling with restrained anger.

At the gate of the town there was a blank wall overlooking the lake, which was always swept by waves on windy or stormy days. My school fellows and I used sometimes to amuse ourselves by running across between two waves, at the risk of being wet by spray or even drenched by some larger wave. On certain days when the storm, was severe, such bravado was impossible. We used to say then that the tempest-tossed lake was smoking. I had the sensation now that my way would be barred in the same manner.

How can I have forgotten one traitor word of the conversation that followed? Grandfather, according to his habit, merely replied -- at once gently and bravely (he detested scenes and usually avoided them, but Martinod's cowardice was not his style):

"I am free, I suppose."

"No one is free," replied my father, with a determined evenness of voice which chilled me to the marrow. "All of us depend upon one another. And you are aware that you are presenting yourself against me."

This time grandfather's retort was more sharp. He would not give way, he would defend himself. At last!

"I am presenting myself against no one," he replied. "I simply present myself -- that is all. And I hinder no one from presenting himself. I say again, Michel, every one is free to act according to his good pleasure."

With an eloquence which gradually grew warm, and which he then interrupted, as if determined not to depart from the most respectful form of speech, constantly struggling to control himself against the vehemence of his own words, father sought to convince him by a line of argument which even at this distance I believe I can recall. Why this candidacy at the last moment when grandfather had never dreamed of taking any part in politics, and when he knew that his son was the head of the conservative party? How was it that he did not see that this was a manœuvre of Martinod, who was only too happy to take revenge for the blow he had received, and to effect the disintegration of the Rambert family? Surely no one would allow himself to be taken in Martinod's coarse trap!

"And besides," he concluded, "we can not be candidates against one another."