neral possessed in the world
but a thousand francs! The origin even of those francs I could never
determine, but imagined them to have emanated from Mr. Astley--the more
so since the latter had paid the family's hotel bill. As for what view
the General took of myself, I think that he never divined the footing
on which I stood with Blanche. True, he had heard, in a dim sort of
way, that I had won a good deal of money; but more probably he supposed
me to be acting as secretary--or even as a kind of servant--to his
inamorata. At all events, he continued to address me, in his old
haughty style, as my superior. At times he even took it upon himself to
scold me. One morning in particular, he started to sneer at me over our
matutinal coffee. Though not a man prone to take offence, he suddenly,
and for some reason of which to this day I am ignorant, fell out with
me. Of course even he himself did not know the reason. To put things
shortly, he began a speech which had neither beginning nor ending, and
cried out, a batons rompus, that I was a boy whom he would soon put to
rights--and so forth, and so forth. Yet no one could understand what he
was saying, and at length Blanche exploded in a burst of laughter.
Finally something appeased him, and he was taken out for his walk. More
than once, however, I noticed that his depression was growing upon him;
that he seemed to be feeling the want of somebody or something; that,
despite Blanche's presence, he was missing some person in particular.
Twice, on these occasions, did he plunge into a conversation with me,
though he could not make himself intelligible, and only went on
rambling about the service, his late wife, his home, and his property.
Every now and then, also, some particular word would please him;
whereupon he would repeat it a hundred times in the day--even though
the word happened to express neither his thoughts nor his feelings.
Again, I would try to get him to talk about his children, but always he
cut me short in his old snappish way, and passed to another subject.
"Yes, yes--my children," was all that I could extract from him. "Yes,
you are right in what you have said about them." Only once did he
disclose his real feelings. That was when we were taking him to the
theatre, and suddenly he exclaimed: "My unfortunate children! Yes, sir,
they are unfortunate children." Once, too, when I chanced to mention
Polina, he grew quite bitter against her. "She is an ungrateful woman!