She put all her determination, all her self-control, all her tact, into the effort of making the marriage a success.
She felt it was the only chance that Robert had of reforming and her love was so great that she was prepared to lose him to me.
She was even prepared to lose her influence over him, and that I think is what a woman values, whether it’s a son or a husband or a lover or anything, even more than his love for her.
She said that she wouldn’t interfere with us and she never did.
Except in the kitchen, later on when we gave up the maid, and at meal times, we hardly saw her.
When she wasn’t out she spent the whole time in her little pavilion at the end of the garden and when, thinking she was lonely, we asked her to come and sit with us, she refused on the excuse that she had work to do, letters to write, or a book she wanted to finish.
She was a woman whom it was difficult to love, but impossible not to respect.”
“What has happened to her now?” asked Charley.
“The cost of the trial ruined her.
Most of her small fortune had already gone to keep Robert out of prison and the rest went on lawyers.
She had to sell the house which was the mainstay of her pride in her position as an officer’s widow and she had to mortgage her pension.
She was always a good cook, she’s gone as general servant in the apartment of an American who has a studio at Auteuil.”
“D’you ever see her?”
“No.
Why should I?
We have nothing in common.
Her interest in me ceased when I could be no further use in keeping Robert straight.”
Lydia went on to tell him about her married life.
It was a pleasure for her to have a house of her own and heaven not to have to go to work every morning.
She soon discovered that there was no money to waste, but compared with what she had been used to, the circumstances in which she now lived were affluent.
And at least she had security.
Robert was sweet to her, he was easy to live with, inclined to let her wait on him, but she loved him so much that this was a delight to her, gay with an impudent, happy-go-lucky cynicism that made her laugh, and brim-full of vitality.
He was generous to a fault considering how poor they were.
He gave her a gold wrist-watch and a vanity case that must have cost at least a couple of thousand francs and a bag in crocodile skin.
She was surprised to find a tram ticket in one of the pockets, and when she asked Robert how it got there, he laughed.
He said he had bought the bag off a girl who had had a bad day at the races.
Her lover had only just given it her and it was such a bargain that he had not been able to resist buying it.
Now and then he took her to the theatre and then they went to Montmartre to dance.
When she wanted to know how he had the money for such extravagance he answered gaily that with the world full of fools it would be absurd if a clever man couldn’t get on to a good thing now and again.
But these excursions they kept secret from Madame Berger.
Lydia would have thought it impossible to love Robert more than when she married him, but every day increased her passion.
He was not only a charming lover, but also a delightful companion.
About four months after their marriage Robert lost his job.
This created a disturbance in the household that she failed to understand, for his salary had been negligible; but he and his mother shut themselves up in the pavilion for a long time, and when Lydia saw her mother-in-law next it was obvious that she had been crying.
Her face was haggard and she gave Lydia a look of sullen exasperation as though she blamed her.
Lydia could not make it out.
Then the old doctor, the friend of the family, Colonel Legrand, came and the three of them were again closeted in Madame Berger’s room.
For two or three days Robert was silent and for the first time since she had known him somewhat irritable; when she asked him what was the matter he told her sharply not to bother.
Then, thinking perhaps that he must offer some explanation, he said the whole trouble was that his mother was so avaricious.
Lydia knew that though she was sparing, she was never so where her son was concerned, for him nothing was too good; but seeing that Robert was in a highly nervous state, she felt it better to say nothing.
For two or three days Madame Berger looked dreadfully worried, but then, whatever the difficulty was, it was settled; she dismissed, however, the maid to keep whom had been almost a matter of principle, for so long as she had a servant Madame Berger could look upon herself as a lady.
But now she told Lydia that it was a useless waste; the two of them could easily run the little house between them, and doing the marketing herself she could be sure of not being robbed; and besides, with nothing to do really, she would enjoy cooking.
Lydia was only too willing to do the housework.
Life went on pretty much as it had before.
Robert quickly regained his good humour and was as gay, loving and delightful as he had ever been.
He got up late in the morning and went out to hunt for a job, and often he did not come back till late in the night.
Madame Berger always had a good meal for Robert, but when the two women were alone they ate sparingly; a bowl of thin soup, a salad and a bit of cheese.
It was plain that Madame Berger was harassed.
More than once Lydia came into the kitchen and found her standing there, doing nothing, with her face distraught, as though an intolerable anxiety possessed her, but on Lydia’s approach she chased the expression away and busied herself with the work upon which she was engaged.
She still kept up appearances, and on the ‘days’ of old friends dressed herself in her best, faintly rouged her cheeks, and sallied forth, very upright and a pattern of middle-class respectability, to pay her visit.