The Counterfeiters Read Online Free PDF Page B

on the stairs), a noise like something falling. I think she must have flung herself on her knees.”
    “And didn’t he answer anything? Nothing at all?”
    “He must have gone up the last steps; I heard the door of the flat shut. And after that, she stayed a long time quite near—almost up against my door. I heard her sobbing.”
    “You should have opened the door.”
    “I didn’t dare. Vincent would be furious if he thought I knew anything about his affairs. And then I was afraid it might embarrass her to be found crying. I don’t know what I could have said to her.”
    Bernard had turned towards Olivier:
    “In your place I should have opened.”
    “Oh, you! You’re never afraid of anything. You do everything that comes into your head.”
    “Is that a reproach?”
    “Oh, no. It’s envy.”
    “Have you any idea who the woman is?”
    “How on earth should I know? Good-night.”
    “I say, are you sure George hasn’t heard us?” whispers Bernard in Olivier’s ear. They listen a moment with bated breath.
    “No,” Olivier goes on in his ordinary voice. “He’s asleep. And besides, he wouldn’t understand. Do you know what he asked Papa the other day …?”
    At this, George can contain himself no longer. He sits up in his bed and breaks into his brother’s sentence.
    “You ass!” he cries. “Didn’t you see I was doing it on purpose?… Good Lord, yes! I’ve heard every word you’ve been saying. But you needn’t excite yourselves.I’ve known all about Vincent for ever so long. And now, my young friends, talk a little lower please, because I’m sleepy—or else hold your tongues.”
    Olivier turns toward the wall. Bernard, who cannot sleep, looks out into the room. It seems bigger in the moonlight. As a matter of fact, he hardly knows it. Olivier was never there during the daytime; the few times that Bernard had been to see him, it was in the flat upstairs. But it was after school hours, when they came out of the
lycée
, that the two friends usually met. The moonlight has reached the foot of the bed in which George has at last gone to sleep; he has heard almost everything that his brother has said. He has matter for his dreams. Above George’s bed Bernard can just make out a little bookcase with two shelves full of schoolbooks. On a table near Olivier’s bed, he sees a larger-sized book; he puts out his hand and takes it to look at the title—
Tocqueville
; but as he is putting it back on the table, he drops it and the noise wakes Olivier up.
    “Are you reading
Tocqueville
now?”
    “Dubac lent it me.”
    “Do you like it?”
    “It’s rather boring, but some of it’s very good.”
    “I say, what are you doing to-morrow?”
    To-morrow is Thursday and there is no school. Bernard thinks he may meet his friend somewhere. He does not mean to go back to the
lycée;
he thinks he can do without the last lectures and finish preparing for his examination by himself.
    “To-morrow,” says Olivier, “I’m going to St. Lazare railway station at 11:30 to meet my Uncle Edouard, who is arriving from Le Havre, on his way from England. In the afternoon, I’m engaged to go to the Louvre with Dhurmer. The rest of the time I’ve got to work.”
    “Your Uncle Edouard?”
    “Yes. He’s a half brother of Mamma’s. He’s been away for six months and I hardly know him; but I likehim very much. He doesn’t know I’m going to meet him and I’m rather afraid I mayn’t recognize him. He’s not in the least like the rest of the family; he’s somebody quite out of the common.”
    “What does he do?”
    “He writes. I’ve read nearly all his books; but he hasn’t published anything for a long time.”
    “Novels?”
    “Yes; kind of novels.”
    “Why have you never told me about them?”
    “Because you’d have wanted to read them; and if you hadn’t liked them …”
    “Well, finish your sentence.”
    “Well, I should have hated it. There!”
    “What makes you say that he’s out of the