At the Campardons’ another complication was occupying Octave’s mind. He felt that the moment was arriving when he would have to take his meals elsewhere. For three weeks past Gasparine had been making herself quite at home there, with an authority daily increasing. At first she had begun by coming every evening; then she had appeared at lunch: and, in spite of her work at the shop, she was commencing to take charge of everything, of Angèle’s education, and of the household affairs. Rose was ever repeating in Campardon’s presence:
But each time the architect, blushing with conscientious scruples, and tormented with shame, cried out:
“No, no; it cannot be. Besides, where would you put her to sleep?”
And he explained that they would have to give his study as a bedroom to their cousin, whilst he would move his table and plans into the drawing-room. It would certainly not inconvenience him in the least; he would, perhaps, decide to make the alteration one day, for he had no need of a drawing-room, and his study was becoming too cramped for all the work he had in hand. Only, Gasparine might very well remain as she was. What need was there to live all in a heap?
“When one is comfortable,” repeated he to Octave, “it is a mistake to wish to be better.”
About that time he was obliged to go and spend two days at Evreux. He was worried about the work in hand at the bishop’s palace. He had yielded to the bishop’s desires without a credit having been opened for the purpose, and the construction of the range for the new kitchens and of the heating apparatus threatened to amount to a very large figure, which it would be impossible to include in the cost of repairs. Besides that, the pulpit, for which three thousand francs had been granted, would come to ten thousand at least. He wished to talk the matter over with the bishop, so as to take certain precautions.
Rose was only expecting him to return on the Sunday night. He arrived in the middle of lunch, and his sudden entrance caused quite a scare. Gasparine was seated at the table, between Octave and Angèle. They pretended to be all at their ease; but there reigned a certain air of mystery. Lisa had closed the drawing-room door at a despairing gesture from her mistress, whilst the cousin kicked beneath the furniture some pieces of paper that were lying about.