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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/13019-0.txt b/13019-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1e710cd --- /dev/null +++ b/13019-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6209 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13019 *** + +[Illustration: ALPHONSE DE LAMARATINE.] + + + + +RAPHAEL, or + +PAGES OF THE BOOK OF LIFE AT TWENTY + +BY ALPHONSE DE LAMARTINE + + +_ILLUSTRATED BY SANDOZ_ + + +SOCIÉTÉ DES BEAUX-ARTS +PARIS, LONDON AND NEW YORK + +1905 + + +Comédie d'Amour Series + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +It is all very well for Lamartine to explain, in his original prologue, +that the touching, fascinating and pathetic story of Raphael was the +experience of another man. It is well known that these feeling pages +are but transcripts of an episode of his own heart-history. That the +tale is one of almost feminine sentimentality is due, in some measure, +perhaps, to the fact that, during his earliest and most impressionable +years, Lamartine was educated by his mother and was greatly influenced +by her ardent and poetical character. Who shall say how much depends on +one's environment during these tender years of childhood, and how often +has it not been proved that "the child is father to the man?" The +marvel of it is that a man so exquisitely sensitive, of such +extraordinary delicacy of feeling, should have been able, in later +years, to stand the storm and stress of political life and the grave +responsibilities of statesmanship. + +Although not written in metrical form, Raphael is really a poem--a +prose poem. Never upon canvas of painter were spread more delicate +tints, hues, colors, shadings, blendings and suggestions, than in these +pages. Not only do we find ourselves, in the descriptions of scenery, +near to Nature's heart, but, in the story itself, near to the heart of +man. Aix in Savoy was, in Lamartine's time, a fashionable resort for +valitudinarians and invalids. Among the patrons of the place was Madame +Charles, whose memory Lamartine has immortalized as "Julie" in Raphael +and as "Elvire" in the beautiful lines of the _Méditations_. In drawing +the character "Julie," idealism and sentimentalism have full play. The +whole story is romantic in the extreme. The influence of Byron is +clearly to be seen. The beautiful hills of Savoy, tinged with the +melancholy tints of autumn, were a fit setting for the meeting with the +fair invalid. Besides physical invalidism, the pair were soul-sick and +heart-sick. Such were their points of sympathy, an affinity was the +most natural thing in the world. "Ships that pass in the night" were +these two creatures, stranded by illness, "out of the world's way, +hidden apart." At the feast of pure, unselfish, romantic love that +followed, there was always a death's-head present, always the sinking +fear, always the mute resignation on one side or the other. Death and +love have been a combination that poets have used since the world +began. And so, as the early snow whitened the pines on the hilltops of +Savoy, this pathetic and ultra-sentimental love-affair between the +banished _Parisienne_ and the poet had its beginning. That it could +have but one ending the reader knows from the start. But with what +breathless interest do we follow this history of love! We seem to be +admitted to the confidences of beings of another sphere, to celestial +heights of affection. We hear the heart-beats and see the glances of +the languid, languorous eyes. The universe itself seems to stand still +for these two lovers. Their heads are among the stars, their hearts in +heaven. Their love is as pure as a sonnet of Keats, as ineffable as +shimmering starlight. Day by day we trace its current, we cannot say +growth because it sprang into life full-grown. Although Julie said that +"her life was not worth a tear," she caused torrents of tears to flow. +From the first, their love seemed centuries old, so entirely was it a +part of their being. Day after day their souls were revealed to each +other, their hearts became more united. Every pure chord of psychic +affection was struck, even almost to the distracting discord of suicide +together, that they might never part, and from which they were saved as +by a miracle. In such unsullied love, there is an element of worship. +It is the sublimation of passion, freed from sensuous dross, a +spiritual efflorescence, a white flame of the soul. + +The parting of the lover, the pursuit, their meeting again in Julie's +home in Paris, the flickering candle of her waning life, burning down +to its socket, the touching interchange of letters, the gathering +shadows of the end, all these have stirred the hearts of entire +Christendom, appealing to all ages and conditions. Raphael is a lovers' +rosary.--C. C. STARKWEATHER. + + + + +LAMARTINE AND HIS WRITINGS + + +Lamartine was born at Mâcon, October 21, 1790. His father was +imprisoned during the Terror, narrowly escaping the guillotine. Taught +at first by his mother, young Lamartine was sent to a boarding school +at Lyons, and later to the college of the Pères de la Foi at Belley. +Here he remained till 1809, and after studying at home for two years, +he traveled in Italy, taking notes and receiving impressions which were +to prove so valuable to him in his literary work. He saw service in the +Royal Body-Guard upon the restoration of the Bourbons. When Napoleon +came back from Elba, Lamartine went to Switzerland and then to Aix in +Savoy. At Aix he fell in love with Madame Charles, who died in 1817. +This love-episode, ending so pathetically, became the subject of much +of his verse, and forms the basis of the famous Raphael, a book of the +purest, most delicate and elevated sentiment. Resigning from the guard, +he enjoyed two more "wander-years," revisiting Switzerland, Savoy and +Italy. + +A collection of his poems, including the famous _Lac_, was published +under the title _Méditations Poétiques_ in 1820, and leaped into +immediate popularity both with the sternest critics and the public at +large. His literary success led to political preferment, and he entered +the diplomatic service as Secretary to the French Embassy at Naples in +1823. That same year he was married at Geneva to an English lady, +Marianne Birch. His second volume of poetry now appeared, the +_Nouvelles Méditations_. He was transferred to Florence in 1824. In +1825 he published his continuation of Byron, _Le Dernier Chant du +Pélérinage de Childe Harold_. A passage in this poem gave offense to an +Italian officer, Colonel Pepe, with whom Lamartine fought a duel. The +_Harmonies Politiques et Réligieuses_ appeared in 1829. He became +active in politics, and was sent on a special mission to Prince Leopold +of Saxe-Coburg, afterward King of the Belgians. He was elected during +this year to the French Academy, at his second candidacy. + +After the publication of his pamphlet _La Politique Rationelle_ he was +defeated in a contest for membership in the National Assembly. He +started, in 1832, upon a long journey in the East with his wife and +daughter, Julia. The latter died at Beyrout in 1833. A description of +his travels was the theme of his _Voyage en Orient_, appearing in 1835. +In his absence he had been elected from Bergues to the Assembly, in +which, on his return, he made his first speech early in 1834. As a +political orator his power was second to none. + +His poems now became more philosophical. _Jocelyn_ was printed in 1836, +_La Chute d'Un Ange_ in 1838, and _Les Recueillements_ in 1839. A +political as well as a literary sensation was produced by his _Histoire +des Girondins_, 1847, which, in fact, was inspired by his newly +acquired belief in democracy. He became Minister of Foreign Affairs of +the Provisional Government in 1848, was elected to the new Assembly +from ten different departments, and became a member of the Executive +Committee, which made him one of the most conspicuous statesmen of +Europe. He was unsuited, however, for executive authority, and soon +disappeared from power, being supplanted in popular favor by Cavaignac. +His rise and fall in the field of statesmanship were equally sudden, +the same year including both. + +Lamartine now began to pay off his debts by literary labor. _Les +Confidences_, containing _Graziella_ and the ever popular _Raphael_ +came from the press in 1849, followed by the _Nouvelles Confidences_ in +1851. Among his other works are: _Genièvre_, 1849; _Le Tailleur de +Pierres de Saint Point_, 1851; _Fior d'Aliza_, 1866; and the histories, +_Histoire de la Restauration_, 1851-1853; _Histoire de la Turquie_, +1854; _Histoire de la Russie_, 1855. His wife died in 1863. He had not +been able to save much money, and, in 1867, when he was an old man, the +Government of France came to his assistance with a pension of 25,000 +francs. He died, March 1, 1869, having profoundly influenced the +literature of his time. His works have been translated into many +languages. A beautiful monument to his memory was erected by public +subscription near Mâcon, in 1874. + +C.C.S. + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS: + + ALPHONSE DE LAMARTINE + + RAPHAEL'S DEVOTION + + THE LOVERS' COMPACT + + RAPHAEL SEES JULIE IN PARIS + + + + +PROLOGUE + + +The real name of the friend who wrote these pages was not Raphael. We +often called him so in sport, because in his boyhood he much resembled +a youthful portrait of Raphael, which may be seen in the Barberini +gallery at Rome, at the Pitti palace in Florence, and at the Museum of +the Louvre. We had given him the name, too, because the distinctive +feature of this youth's character was his lively sense of the beautiful +in Nature and Art,--a sense so keen, that his mind was, so to speak, +merely the shadowing forth of the ideal or material beauty scattered +through-out the works of God and man. This feeling was the result of +his exquisite and almost morbid sensibility,--morbid, at least, until +time had somewhat blunted it. We would sometimes, in allusion to those +who, from their ardent longings to revisit their country, are called +home-sick, say that he was heaven-sick, and he would smile, and say +that we were right. + +This love of the beautiful made him unhappy; in another situation it +might have rendered him illustrious. Had he held a pencil he would have +painted the Virgin of Foligno; as a sculptor, he would have chiselled +the Psyche of Canova; had he known the language in which sounds are +written, he would have noted the aerial lament of the sea breeze +sighing among the fibres of Italian pines, or the breathing of a +sleeping girl who dreams of one she will not name; had he been a poet, +he would have written the stanzas of Tasso's "Erminia," the moonlight +talk of Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet," or Byron's portrait of +Haidee. + +He loved the good as well as the beautiful, but he loved not virtue for +its holiness, he loved it for its beauty. He would have been aspiring +in imagination, although he was not ambitious by character. Had he +lived in those ancient republics where men attained their full +development through liberty, as the free, unfettered body develops +itself in pure air and open sunshine, he would have aspired to every +summit like Cæsar, he would have spoken as Demosthenes, and would have +died as Cato. But his inglorious and obscure destiny confined him, +against his will, in speculative inaction,--he had wings to spread, and +no surrounding air to bear them up. He died young, straining his gaze +into the future, and ardently surveying the space over which he was +never to travel. + +Every one knows the youthful portrait of Raphael to which I have +alluded. It represents a youth of sixteen, whose face is somewhat paled +by the rays of a Roman sun, but on whose cheek still blooms the soft +down of childhood. A glancing ray of light seems to play on the velvet +of the cheek. He leans his elbow on a table; the arm is bent upwards to +support the head, which rests on the palm of the hand, and the +admirably modelled fingers are lightly imprinted on the cheek and chin; +the delicate mouth is thoughtful and melancholy; the nose is slender at +its rise, and slightly tinged with blue, as though the azure veins +shone through the fair transparency of the skin; the eyes are of that +dark heavenly hue which the Apennines wear at the approach of dawn, and +they gaze earnestly forward, but are slightly raised to heaven, as +though they ever looked higher than Nature,--a liquid lustre +illuminates their inmost depths, like rays dissolved in dew or tears. +On the scarcely arched brow, beneath the delicate skin, we trace the +muscles, those responsive chords of the instrument of thought; the +temples seem to throb with reflection; the ear appears to listen; the +dark hair, unskilfully cut by a sister or some young companion of the +studio, casts a shadow upon the hand and cheek; and a small cap of +black velvet, placed on the crown of the head, shades the brow. One +cannot pass before this portrait without musing sadly, one knows not +why. It represents the revery of youthful genius pausing on the +threshold of its destiny. What will be the fate of that soul standing +at the portal of life? + +Now, in idea, add six years to the age of that dreaming boy; suppose +the features bolder, the complexion more bronzed; place a few furrows +on the brow, slightly dim the look, sadden the lips, give height to the +figure, and throw out the muscles in bolder relief; let the Italian +costume of the days of Leo X. be exchanged for the sombre and plain +uniform of a youth bred in the simplicity of rural life, who seeks no +elegance in dress,--and, if the pensive and languid attitude be +retained, you will have the striking likeness of our "Raphael" at the +age of twenty-two. + +He was of a poor, though ancient family, from the mountainous province +of Forez, and his father, whose sole dignity was that of honor (worth +all others), had, like the nobles of Spain, exchanged the sword for the +plough. His mother, still young and handsome, seemed his sister, so +much did they resemble each other. She had been bred amid the luxurious +elegancies of a capital; and as the balmy essence of the rose perfumes +the crystal vase of the seraglio in which it has once been contained, +so she, too, had preserved that fragrant atmosphere of manners and +language which never evaporates entirely. + +In her secluded mountains, with the loved husband of her choice, and +with her children, in whom she had complacently centred all the pride +of her maternal heart, she had regretted nothing. She closed the fair +book of youth at these three words,--"God, husband, children." Raphael +especially was her best beloved. She would have purchased for him a +kingly destiny, but, alas, she had only her heart with which to raise +him up, for their slender fortune, and their dreams of prosperity, +would ever and anon crumble to their very foundation beneath the hand +of fate. + +Two holy men, driven by persecution to the mountains, had, soon after +the Reign of Terror, taken refuge in her house. They had been +persecuted as members of a mystical religious sect which dimly +predicted a renovation of the age. They loved Raphael, who was then a +mere child, and, obscurely prophesying his fate, pointed out his star +in the heavens, and told his mother to watch over that son with all her +heart. She reproached herself for being too credulous, for she was very +pious; but still she believed them. In such matters, a mother is so +easy of belief! Her credulity supported her under many trials, but +spurred her to efforts beyond her means to educate Raphael, and +ultimately deceived her. + +I had known Raphael since he was twelve years old, and next to his +mother he loved me best on earth. We had met since the conclusion of +our studies, first in Paris, then at Rome, whither he had been taken by +one of his father's relatives, for the purpose of copying manuscripts +in the Vatican Library. There he had acquired the impassioned language +and the genius of Italy. He spoke Italian better than his mother +tongue. At evening he would sit beneath the pines of the Villa +Pamphili, and gazing on the setting sun and on the white fragments +scattered on the plain, like the bleached bones of departed Rome, would +pour forth extemporaneous stanzas that made us weep; but he never +wrote. "Raphael," would I sometimes say, "why do you not write?" + +"Ah!" would he answer, "does the wind write what it sighs in this +harmonious canopy of leaves? Does the sea write the wail of its shores? +Nought that has been written is truly, really beautiful, and the heart +of man never discloses its best and most divine portion. It is +impossible! The instrument is of flesh, and the note is of fire! +Between what is felt and what is expressed," would he add, mournfully, +"there is the same distance as between the soul and the twenty-six +letters of an alphabet! Immensity of distance! Think you a flute of +reeds can give an idea of the harmony of the spheres?" + +I left him to return to Paris. He was at that time striving, through +his mother's interest, to obtain some situation in which he might by +active employment remove from his soul its heavy weight, and lighten +the oppressive burden of his fate. Men of his own age sought him, and +women looked graciously on him as he passed them by. But he never went +into society, and of all women he loved his mother only. + +We suddenly lost sight of him for three years; though we afterwards +learned that he had been seen in Switzerland, Germany, and Savoy; and +that in winter he passed many hours of his nights on a bridge, or on +one of the quays of Paris. He had all the appearance of extreme +destitution. It was only many years afterwards that we learned more. We +constantly thought of him, though absent, for he was one of those who +could defy the forgetfulness of friends. + +Chance reunited us once more after an interval of twelve years. It so +happened that I had inherited a small estate in his province, and when +I went there to dispose of it, I inquired after Raphael. I was told +that he had lost father, mother, and wife in the space of a few years; +that after these pangs of the heart, he had had to bear the blows of +fortune, and that of all the domain of his fathers, nothing now +remained to him but the old dismantled tower on the edge of the ravine, +the garden, orchard, and meadow, with a few acres of unproductive land. +These he ploughed himself, with two miserable cows; and was only +distinguished from his peasant neighbors by the book which he carried +to the field, and which he would sometimes hold in one hand, while the +other directed the plough. For many weeks, however, he had not been +seen to leave his wretched abode. It was supposed that he had started +on one of those long journeys which with him lasted years. "It would be +a pity," it was said, "for every one in the neighborhood loves him; +though poor, he does as much good as any rich man. Many a warm piece of +cloth has been made from the wool of his sheep; at night he teaches the +little children of the surrounding hamlets how to read and write, or +draw. He warms them at his hearth, and shares his bread with them, +though God knows he has not much to spare when crops are short, as this +year." + +It was thus all spoke of Raphael. I wished to visit at least the abode +of my friend, and was directed to the foot of the hillock, on the +summit of which stood the blackened tower, with its surrounding sheds +and stables, amid a group of hazel-trees. A trunk of a tree, which had +been thrown across, enabled me to pass over the almost dried-up torrent +of the ravine, and I climbed the steep path, the loose stones giving +way under my feet. Two cows and three sheep were grazing on the barren +sides of the hillock, and were tended by an old half-blind servant, who +was telling his beads seated on an ancient escutcheon of stone, which +had fallen from the arch of the doorway. + +He told me that Raphael was not gone, but had been ill for the last two +months; that it was plain he would never leave the tower but for the +churchyard; and the old man pointed with his meagre hand to the burying +ground on the opposite hill. I asked if I could see Raphael. "Oh, yes," +said the old man; "go up the steps, and draw the string of the latch of +the great hall-door on the left. You will find him stretched on his +bed, as gentle as an angel, and," added he drawing the back of his hand +across his eyes, "as simple as a child!" I mounted the steep and +worn-out steps which wound round the outside of the tower, and ended at +a small platform covered by a tiled roof, the broken tiles of which +strewed the stone steps. I lifted the latch of the door on my left, and +entered. Never shall I forget the sight. The chamber was vast, +occupying all the space between the four walls of the tower; it was +lighted from two windows, with stone cross-bars, and the dusty and +broken lozenge-shaped panes of glass were set in lead. The huge beams +of the ceiling were blackened by smoke, the floor was paved with +bricks, and in a high chimney with roughly fluted wooden jambs, an iron +pot filled with potatoes was suspended over a fire, where a long branch +was burning, or rather smoking. The only articles of furniture were two +high-backed arm-chairs, covered with a plain-colored stuff, of which it +was impossible to guess the original color; a large table, half covered +with an unbleached linen table-cloth in which a loaf was wrapped, the +other half being strewed pell-mell with papers and books; and, lastly, +a rickety, worm-eaten four-post bedstead, with its blue serge curtains +looped back to admit the rays of the sun, and the air from the open +window. + +A man who was still young, but attenuated by consumption and want, was +seated on the edge of the bed, occupied in throwing crumbs to a whole +host of swallows which were wheeling their flight around him. + +The birds flew away at the noise of my approach, and perched on the +cornice of the hall, or on the tester of the bed. I recognized Raphael, +pale and thin as he was. His countenance, though no longer youthful, +had not lost its peculiar character; but a change had come over its +loveliness, and its beauty was now of the grave. Rembrandt would have +wished for no better model for his "Christ in the Garden of Olives." +His dark hair clustered thickly on his shoulders, and was thrown back +in disorder, as by the weary hand of the laborer when the sweat and +toil of the day is over. The long untrimmed beard grew with a natural +symmetry that disclosed the graceful curve of the lip, and the contour +of the cheek; there was still the noble outline of the nose, the fair +and delicate complexion, the pensive and now sunken eye. His shirt, +thrown open on the chest, displayed his muscular though attenuated +frame, which might yet have appeared majestic, had his weakness allowed +him to sit erect. + +He knew me at a glance, made one step forward with extended arms, and +fell back upon the bed. We first wept, and then talked together. He +related the past; how, when he had thought to cull the flowers or +fruits of life, his hopes had ever been marred by fortune or by +death,--the loss of his father, mother, wife, and child; his reverses +of fortune, and the compulsory sale of his ancestral domain; he told +how he retired to his ruined home, with no other companionship than +that of his mother's old herdsman, who served him without pay, for the +love he bore to his house; and lastly, spoke of the consuming languor +which would sweep him away with the autumnal leaves, and lay him in the +churchyard beside those he had loved so well. His intense imaginative +faculty might be seen strong even in death, and in idea he loved to +endow with a fanciful sympathy the turf and flowers which would blossom +on his grave. + +"Do you know what grieves me most?" said he, pointing to the fringe of +little birds which were perched round the top of his bed. "It is to +think that next spring these poor little ones, my latest friends, will +seek for me in vain in the tower. They will no longer find the broken +pane through which to fly in; and on the floor, the little flocks of +wool from my mattress with which to build their nests. But the old +nurse, to whom I bequeath my little all, will take care of them as long +as she lives," he resumed, as if to comfort himself with the idea; "and +after her--Well! God will; for He feedeth the young ravens." + +He seemed moved while speaking of these little creatures. It was easy +to see that he had long been weaned from the sympathy of men, and that +the whole tenderness of his soul, which had been repulsed by them, was +now transferred to dumb animals. "Will you spend any time among our +mountains?" he inquired. "Yes," I replied. "So much the better," he +added; "you will close my eyes, and take care that my grave is dug as +close as possible to those of my mother, wife, and child." + +He then begged me to draw towards him a large chest of carved wood, +which was concealed beneath a bag of Indian corn at one end of the +room. I placed the chest upon the bed, and from it he drew a quantity +of papers which he tore silently to pieces for half an hour, and then +bid his old nurse sweep them into the fire. There were verses in many +languages, and innumerable pages of fragments, separated by dates, like +memoranda. "Why should you burn all these?" I timidly suggested; "has +not man a moral as well as a material inheritance to bequeath to those +who come after him? You are perhaps destroying thoughts and feelings +which might have quickened a soul." + +"What matters it?" he said; "there are tears enough in this world, and +we need not deposit a few more in the heart of man. These," said he, +showing the verses, "are the cast-off, useless feathers of my soul; it +has moulted since then, and spread its bolder wings for eternity!" He +then continued to burn and destroy, while I looked out of the broken +window at the dreary landscape. + +At length he called me once more to the bedside. "Here," said he--"save +this one little manuscript, which I have not courage to burn. When I am +gone, my poor nurse would make bags for her seeds with it, and I would +not that the name which fills its pages should be profaned. Take, and +keep it till you hear that I am no more. After my death you may burn +it, or preserve it till your old age, to think of me sometimes as you +glance over it." + +I hid the roll of paper beneath my cloak, and took my leave, resolving +inwardly to return the next day to soothe the last moments of Raphael +by my care and friendly discourse. As I descended the steps, I saw +about twenty little children with their wooden shoes in their hands, +who had come to take the lessons which he gave them, even on his +death-bed. A little further on, I met the village priest, who had come +to spend the evening with him. I bowed respectfully, and as he noted my +swollen eyes, he returned my salute with an air of mournful sympathy. + +The next day I returned to the tower. Raphael had died during the +night, and the village bell was already tolling for his burial. Women +and children were standing at their doors, looking mournfully in the +direction of the tower, and in the little green field adjoining the +church, two men, with spades and mattock, were digging a grave at the +foot of a cross. + +I drew near to the door. A cloud of twittering swallows were fluttering +round the open windows, darting in and out, as though the spoiler had +robbed their nests. + +Since then I have read these pages, and now know why he loved to be +surrounded by these birds, and what memories they waked in him, even to +his dying day. + + + + +RAPHAEL + + + + +I. + + +There are places and climates, seasons and hours, with their outward +circumstance, so much in harmony with certain impressions of the heart, +that Nature and the soul of man appear to be parts of one vast whole; +and if we separate the stage from the drama, or the drama from the +stage, the whole scene fades, and the feeling vanishes. If we take from +René the cliffs of Brittany, or the wild savannahs from Atala, the +mists of Swabia from Werther, or the sunny waves and scorched-up hills +from Paul and Virginia, we can neither understand Chateaubriand, +Bernardin de St. Pierre, or Goethe. Places and events are closely +linked, for Nature is the same in the eye as in the heart of man. We +are earth's children, and life is the same in sap as in blood; all that +the earth, our mother, feels and expresses to the eye by her form and +aspect, in melancholy or in splendor, finds an echo within us. One +cannot thoroughly enter into certain feelings, save in the spot where +they first had birth. + + + + +II. + + +At the entrance of Savoy, that natural labyrinth of deep valleys, which +descend like so many torrents from the Simplon, St. Bernard, and Mount +Cenis, and direct their course towards France and Switzerland, one +wider valley separates at Chambéry from the Alpine chain, and, striking +off towards Geneva and Annecy, displays its verdant bed, intersected +with lakes and rivers, between the Mont du Chat and the almost mural +mountains of Beauges. + +On the left, the Mont du Chat, like a gigantic rampart, runs in one +uninterrupted ridge for the space of two leagues, marking the horizon +with a dark and scarcely undulated line. A few jagged peaks of gray +rock at the eastern extremity alone break the almost geometrical +monotony of its appearance, and tell that it was the hand of God, and +not of man, that piled up these huge masses. Towards Chambéry, the +mountain descends by gentle steps to the plain, and forms natural +terraces, clothed with walnut and chestnut trees, entwined with +clusters of the creeping vine. In the midst of this wild, luxuriant +vegetation, one sees here and there some country-house shining through +the trees, the tall spire of a humble village, or the old dark towers +and battlements of some castle of a bygone age. The plain was once a +vast lake, and has preserved the hollowed form, the indented shores, +and advanced promontories of its former aspect; but in lieu of the +spreading waters, there are the yellow waves of the bending corn, or +the undulating summit of the verdant poplars. Here and there, a piece +of rising ground, which was once an island, may be seen with its +clusters of thatched roofs, half hidden among the branches. Beyond this +dried-up basin, the Mont du Chat rises more abrupt and bold, its base +washed by the waters of a lake, as blue as the firmament above it. This +lake, which is not more than six leagues in length, varies in breadth +from one to three leagues, and is surrounded and hemmed in with bold, +steep rocks on the French side; on the Savoy side, on the contrary, it +winds unmolested into several creeks and small bays, bordered by +vine-covered hillocks and well-wooded slopes, and skirted by fig-trees +whose branches dip into its very waters. The lake then dwindles away +gradually to the foot of the rocks of Châtillon, which open to afford a +passage for the overflow of its waters into the Rhône. The burial-place +of the princes of the house of Savoy, the abbey of Haute-Combe, stands +on the northern side upon its foundation of granite, and projects the +vast shadow of its spacious cloisters on the waters of the lake. +Screened during the day from the rays of the sun by the high barrier of +the Mont du Chat, the edifice, from the obscurity which envelops it, +seems emblematical of the eternal night awaiting at its gates, the +princes who descend from a throne into its vaults. Towards evening, +however, a ray of the setting sun strikes and reverberates on its +walls, as a beacon to mark the haven of life at the close of day. A few +fishing boats, without sails, glide silently on the deep waters, +beneath the shade of the mountain, and from their dingy color can +scarcely be distinguished from its dark and rocky sides. Eagles, with +their dusky plumage, incessantly hover over the cliffs and boats, as if +to rob the nets of their prey, or make a sudden swoop at the birds +which follow in the wake of the boats. + + + + +III. + + +At no great distance, the little town of Aix, in Savoy, steaming with +its hot springs, and redolent of sulphur, is seated on the slope of a +hill covered with vineyards, orchards, and meadows. A long avenue of +poplars, the growth of a century, connects the lake with the town, and +reminds one of those far-stretching rows of cypresses which lead to +Turkish cemeteries. The meadows and fields, on either side of this +road, are intersected by the rocky beds of the often dried-up mountain +torrents and shaded by giant walnut-trees, upon whose boughs vines as +sturdy as those of the woods of America hang their clustering branches. +Here and there, a distant vista of the lake shows its surface, +alternately sparkling or lead-colored, as the passing cloud or the hour +of the day may make it. + +When I arrived at Aix, the crowd had already left it. The hotels and +public places, where strangers and idlers flock during the summer, were +then closed. All were gone, save a few infirm paupers, seated in the +sun, at the door of the lowest description of inns; and some invalids, +past all hope of recovery, who might be seen, during the hottest hours +of the day, dragging their feeble steps along, and treading the +withered leaves that had fallen from the poplars during the night. + + + + +IV. + + +The autumn was mild, but had set in early. The leaves which had been +blighted by the morning frost fell in roseate showers from the vines +and chestnut-trees. Until noon, the mist overspread the valley, like an +overflowing nocturnal inundation, covering all but the tops of the +highest poplars in the plain; the hillocks rose in view like islands, +and the peaks of mountains appeared as headlands in the midst of ocean; +but when the sun rose higher in the heavens, the mild southerly breeze +drove before it all these vapors of earth. The rushing of the +imprisoned winds in the gorges of the mountains, the murmur of the +waters, and the whispering trees, produced sounds melodious or +powerful, sonorous or melancholy, and seemed in a few minutes to run +through the whole range of earth's joys and sorrows its strength or its +melancholy. They stirred up one's very soul, then died away like the +voices of celestial spirits, that pass and disappear. Silence, such as +the ear has no preception of elsewhere, succeeded, and hushed all to +rest. The sky resumed its almost Italian serenity; the Alps stood out +once more against a cloudless sky; the drops from the dissolving mist +fell pattering on the dry leaves, or shone like brilliants on the +grass. These hours were quickly over; the pale blue shades of evening +glided swiftly on, veiling the horizon with their cold drapery as with +a shroud. It seemed the death of Nature, dying, as youth and beauty +die, with all its charms, and all its serenity. + +Scenes such as these exhibiting Nature in its languid beauty were too +much in accordance with my feelings. While they gave an additional +charm to my own languor, they increased it, and I voluntarily plunged +into an abyss of melancholy. But it was a melancholy so replete with +thoughts, impressions, and elevating desires, with so soft a twilight +of the soul, that I had no wish to shake it off. It was a malady the +very consciousness of which was an allurement, rather than a pain, and +in which Death appeared but as a voluptuous vanishing into space. I had +given myself up to the charm, and had determined to keep aloof from +society, which might have dissipated it, and in the midst of the world +to wrap myself in silence, solitude, and reserve. I used my isolation +of mind as a shroud to shut out the sight of men, so as to contemplate +God and Nature only. + +Passing by Chambery, I had seen my friend, Louis de ----; I had found +him in the same state of mind as myself, disgusted with the bitterness +of life, his genius, unappreciated, the body worn out by the mind, and +all his better feelings thrown back upon his heart. + +Louis had mentioned to me a quiet and secluded house, in the higher +part of the town of Aix, where invalids were admitted to board. The +establishment was conducted by a worthy old doctor (who had retired +from the profession), and communicated with the town by a narrow +pathway, which lay between the streams that issue from the hot springs. +The back of the house looked on a garden surrounded by trellis and vine +arbors; and beyond that there were paths where goats only were to be +seen, which led to the mountain through sloping meadows, and through +woods of chestnut and walnut-trees. Louis had promised to join me at +Aix, as soon as he should have settled some business, consequent on the +death of his mother, which detained him at Chambéry. I looked forward +with pleasure to his arrival, for we understood each other, and the +same feeling of disenchantment was common to us both. Grief knits two +hearts in closer bonds than happiness ever can; and common sufferings +are far stronger links than common joys. Louis was, at that particular +time, the only person whose society was not distasteful to me, and yet +I awaited his arrival without eagerness or impatience. + + + + +V. + + +I was kindly and graciously received in the house of the old doctor, +and a room was allotted to me, which overlooked the garden and the +country beyond. Almost all the other rooms were untenanted, and the +long table d'hôte was deserted. At meal times a few invalids from +Chambéry and Turin, who had over-stayed the season, assembled with the +family. These boarders had arrived late, when most of the visitors of +the baths were already gone, in hopes of finding cheaper lodgings, and +a style of living in accordance with their poverty. There was no one +with whom I could converse or form a passing acquaintance. This the old +doctor and his wife soon saw, and threw the blame on the advanced +season, and on the bathers who had left too soon. They often spoke with +visible enthusiasm, and tender and compassionate respect, of a young +stranger, a lady, who had remained at the baths in a weak and languid +state of health, which it was feared would degenerate into slow +consumption. She had lived alone with her maid for the last three +months, in one of the most retired apartments of the house, taking her +meals in her own rooms; and was never seen except at her window that +looked towards the garden, or on the stairs when she returned from a +donkey ride in the mountains. + +I felt compassion for this young creature, a stranger like myself in a +foreign land, who must be ill, since she had come in quest of health, +and was doubtless sad, since she avoided the bustle and even the sight +of company; but I felt no desire to see her spite of the admiration her +grace and beauty had excited on those around me. My worn-out heart was +wearied with wretched and short-lived attachments, of which I blushed +to preserve the memories; not one of which I could recur to with pious +regret, save that of poor Antonina. I was penitent and ashamed of my +past follies and disorders; disgusted and satiated of vulgar +allurements; and being naturally of a timid and reserved disposition, +without that self-confidence which prompts some men to court +adventures, or to seek the familiarity of chance acquaintances, I +neither wished to see nor to be seen. Still less did I dream of love. +On the contrary, I rejoiced, in my stern and mistaken pride, to think +that I had forever stifled that weakness in my heart, and that I was +alone to feel, or to suffer in this nether world. As to happiness, I no +longer believed in it. + + + + +VI. + + +I passed my days in my room with no other company than some books which +my friend had sent me from Chambéry. In the afternoon, I used to ramble +alone amid the wild mountains which, on the Italian side, form the +boundary of the valley of Aix; and returning home in the evening, +harassed and fatigued, would sit down to supper, and then retire to my +room and spend whole hours seated at my window. I gazed at the blue +firmament above, which, like the abyss attracting him who leans over +it, ever attracts the thoughts of men as though it had secrets to +reveal. Sleep found me still wandering on a sea of thoughts, and +seeking no shore. When morning came, I was awaked by the rays of the +sun and by the murmur of the hot springs; and I would plunge into my +bath, and after breakfast recommence the same rambles and the same +melancholy musings as the day before. Sometimes in the evening, when I +looked out of my window into the garden, I saw another lighted window +not far from my own and the face of a female, who, with one hand +throwing back the long black tresses from her brow, gazed like myself +on the mountains, the sky, and moonlit garden. I could only distinguish +the pale, pure, and almost transparent profile and the long, dark waves +of the hair, which was smoothed down at the temples. I used to see this +face standing out on the brilliant background of the window, which was +lighted from a lamp in the bedroom. At times, too, I had heard a +woman's voice saying a few words or giving some orders in the +apartment. The slightly foreign, though pure accent, the vibrations of +that soft, languid, and yet marvellously sonorous voice, of which I +heard the harmony without understanding the words had interested me. +Long after my window was closed that voice remained in my ear like the +prolonged sound of an echo. I had never heard any like it, even in +Italy; it sounded through the half-closed teeth like those small +metallic lyres that the children of the Islands of the Archipelago use +when they play on the seashore. It was more like a ringing sound than +like a voice; I had noticed it, little dreaming that that voice would +ring loud and deep forever through my life. The next day I thought no +more of it. + +One day, however, on returning home earlier, and entering by the little +garden-door near the arbor, I had a nearer view of the stranger, who +was seated on a bench under the southern wall, enjoying the warm rays +of the sun. She thought herself alone, for she had not heard the sound +of the door as I closed it behind me, and I could contemplate her +unobserved. We were within twenty paces of each other, and were only +separated by a vine, which was half-stripped of its leaves. The shade +of the vine-leaves and the rays of the sun played and chased each other +alternately over her face. She appeared larger than life, as she sat +like one of those marble statues enveloped in drapery, of which we +admire the beauty without distinguishing the form. The folds of her +dress were loose and flowing, and the drapery of a white shawl, folded +closely round her, showed only her slender and rather attenuated hands, +which were crossed on her lap. In one, she carelessly held one of those +red flowers which grow in the mountains beneath the snow, and are +called, I know not why, "poets' flowers." One end of her shawl was +thrown over her head like a hood, to protect her from the damp evening +air. She was bent languidly forward, her head inclined upon her left +shoulder; and the eyelids, with their long dark lashes, were closed +against the dazzling rays of the sun. Her complexion was pale, her +features motionless, and her countenance so expressive of profound and +silent meditation, that she resembled a statue of Death; but of that +Death which bears away the soul beyond the reach of human woes to the +regions of eternal light and love. The sound of my footsteps on the dry +leaves made her look up. Her large half-closed eyes were of that +peculiar tint resembling the color of lapis lazuli, streaked with +brown, and the drooping lid had that natural fringe of long dark +lashes, which Eastern women strive by art to imitate, in order to +impart a voluptuous wildness to their look and energy even to their +languor. The light of those eyes seemed to come from a distance which I +have never measured in any other mortal eye. It was as the rays of the +stars, which seem to seek us out, and to approach us as we gaze, and +yet have travelled millions of miles through the heavens. The high and +narrow forehead seemed as if compressed by intense thought, and joined +the nose by an almost straight and Grecian line. The lips were thin and +slightly depressed at the corners with an habitual expression of +sadness; the teeth of pearl, rather than of ivory, as is the case with +the daughters of the sea or islands. The face was oval, slightly +emaciated in the lower part and at the temples, and, on the whole she +seemed rather an embodying of thought than a human being. Besides this +general expression of revery there was a languid look of suffering and +passion, which made it impossible to gaze once on that face without +bearing its ineffaceable image stamped forever in the memory. In a +word, hers was a contagious sickness of the soul, veiled in a shape of +beauty the most majestic and attractive that the dreams of mortal man +ever embodied. + +I passed rapidly before her, bowing respectfully, and my deferential +air and downcast eyes seemed to ask forgiveness for having disturbed +her. A slight blush tinged her pale cheeks at my approach. I returned +to my room trembling and wondering that the evening air should thus +have chilled me. A few minutes later I saw her re-enter the house, and +cast one indifferent look at my window. I saw her again on the +following days, at the same hour, both in the garden and in the court, +but never dared to think of accosting her. I even met her sometimes +near the châlets, with the little girls who drove her donkey or picked +strawberries for her, at other times, in her boat on the lake; but I +never showed any sign of recognition or interest, beyond a grave and +respectful bow; she would return it with an air of melancholy +abstraction, and we each went our separate ways, on the hills or on the +waters. + + + + +VII. + + +And yet when I had not met her in the course of the day, I felt sad and +disturbed; when evening came, I would go down to the garden, I knew not +why, and stay there, with my eyes riveted on her windows, spite of the +cold night air. I could not make up my mind to return to the house +until I had caught a glimpse of her shadow on the curtains, or heard a +note of her piano, or one of the strange tones of her voice. + +The apartment she occupied was contiguous to my room, from which it was +separated by a strong oaken door with two bolts. I could hear +confusedly the sound of her footsteps, the rustling of her gown, or the +crumpling of the leaves of her book as she turned over the pages. I +sometimes fancied I heard her breathe. Instinctively I placed my +writing-table on which my lamp stood near the door, for I felt less +lonely when I heard these sounds of life around me. It seemed to me +that this unknown neighbor, who insensibly occupied all my time, shared +my life. In a word, before I had the slightest idea that I loved, I had +already all the thoughts, the fancies, and the refinements of passion. +Love did not consist for me in one particular symptom, look, or +confession, in any one external circumstance against which I could have +fortified myself. It was an invisible miasma diffused in the +surrounding atmosphere; it was in the air and light, in the expiring +season, in my lonely life, in the mysterious proximity of another +equally isolated existence; it was in the long excursions which took me +from her and made me feel the more forcibly the unconscious attraction +which recalled me; in her white dress, seen at a distance through the +mountain firs; in her dark hair loosened by the wind on the lake; in +the light at her window, in the slight creaking of the wooden floor +under her tread, in the rustling of her pen on the paper when she +wrote, in the very silence of those long autumnal evenings which she +spent in reading, writing, or in thought within a few paces of me; and +lastly, it was in the fascination of her fantastic beauty, too much +seen though scarcely beheld, and which, when I closed my eyes, I still +saw through the wall, as though it had been transparent. + +With this feeling, however, there mingled no desire or eager curiosity, +on my part, to find out the secret reason of her solitude, or to break +down the fragile barrier of our almost voluntary separation. What to me +was this woman whom I had met by chance among the mountains of a +foreign land, ill in health and sick at heart though she might be? I +had shaken the dust from my feet, or at least I thought I had, and felt +no wish to hold to the world once more by any link of the mind, or of +the senses, still less by any weakness of the heart. I felt supreme +contempt for love, for under its name I had met only with affectation, +coquetry, fickleness, and levity; if I except the love of Antonina, +which had been but a childish ecstasy, a flower fallen from the stem +before its hour of perfume. + + + + + +VIII. + + +Again, who was this woman? Was she a being like myself, or one of those +visions which, like living meteors, shoot athwart the sky of our +imagination, dazzling the eye? Was she of my own country, or from some +distant land, from some island of the tropics, or the far East, whither +I could not follow her? After adoring her for a few days, might I not +have to mourn forever her absence? Was her heart free to respond to +mine? Was it likely that enthralling beauty such as hers should have +traversed the world and reached maturity without kindling love in some +of those upon whom the glance of her eye had fallen? Had she a father +or a mother, brothers or sisters? Was she not married? Was there not +one man in the world who, though separated from her by inexplicable +circumstances, lived for her only, as she lived for him? + +All this I said to myself, to drive away this one besetting, hopeless +fancy. I scorned even to make inquiries. I was too much of a stoic to +strive to penetrate the unknown, and thought it more dignified, or +perhaps more pleasant, to go on dreaming in uncertainty. + + + + +IX. + + +The old doctor and his family had not the pride of heart that induced +me to respect her secret. At table our hosts, with the curiosity +natural to all those who live by strangers, would interpret every +circumstance, discuss every probability, and collect even the vaguest +notions concerning the stranger. I soon learned all that had transpired +respecting her, although I never interrogated and even studiously +avoided making her the subject of our discourse. In vain I sought to +turn the conversation into another channel; every day the same subject +recurred; men, women, children, bathers, and servants, the guides of +the mountains, and the boatmen on the lake, had all been equally struck +and charmed by her, although she spoke to no one. She was an object of +universal respect and admiration. + +There are some beings who, by their dazzling radiance, draw all around +them into their sphere of attraction without desiring or even +perceiving it. It seems as though certain natures were like the suns of +some moral system, obliging the looks, thoughts, and hearts of their +satellites to gravitate around them. Their moral and physical beauty is +a spell, their fascination a chain, love is but their emanation. We +track their upward course from earth to heaven, and when they vanish in +their youth and beauty, all else seems dark to the eye that has been +blinded by their brilliancy. The vulgar, even, recognize these superior +beings by some mysterious sign. They admire without comprehending, as +the blind enjoy the sunshine, who have never seen the sun. + + + + +X. + + +It was thus I learned that the young stranger lived in Paris. Her +husband was an old man, who had rendered his name illustrious, at the +close of the last century, by many discoveries which held a high place +in the history of science. He had been struck with the beauty and +talent of this young girl, and had adopted her in order to bequeath to +her his name and fortune. She loved him as a father, wrote to him every +day, and sent him a journal of her feelings and impressions. Two years +ago she had fallen into a declining state, which had alarmed him. She +had been recommended to remove southward and try change of air, and her +husband, being too infirm to accompany her, had confided her to the +care of some friends from Lausanne, with whom she had travelled all +over Italy and Switzerland. The change had not restored her to health, +and a Genevese doctor, fearing a disease of the heart, had recommended +the baths of Aix; he was to come to fetch her, and take her back to +Paris at the beginning of the winter. + +This was all I learned of a life already so dear. Still I persisted in +fancying that all these details were indifferent to me. I felt a tender +pity for this enchanting and beautiful being, blighted in the flower of +youth by a disease which, while it consumes life, renders the +sensations more acute and stimulates the flame which it is destined to +extinguish. When I met the stranger on the staircase, I sought to +discover the trace of her sufferings in the scarcely perceptible lines +of pain round her somewhat pale lips, or in the dark circle which want +of sleep had left round her beautiful blue eyes. I was interested by +her beauty, but still more by the shadow of death by which she was +overcast, and which made her appear more as a phantom of the night than +as a reality. This was all. Our lives rolled on; we continued to live +in close proximity as far as distance was concerned, but morally, as +widely separated as ever. + + + + +XI. + + +I had given up my mountain excursions since the snow had fallen on the +highest peaks of Savoy, for the gentle warmth of the latter days of +October seemed to have taken refuge in the valley; and on the banks of +the lake the weather was still mild. The long avenue of poplars was my +delight, with its gleams of sunshine, waving tops, and murmuring +branches. I spent, also, a great part of my time on the water. The +boatmen all knew me, and I am told they still remember how we used to +sail into the wildest creeks and remotest bays of France and Savoy. The +young stranger, too, would sometimes embark in the middle of the day +for less distant expeditions. The boatmen, who were proud of her +confidence, always took care to give her notice of the least symptom of +wind or cold weather, thinking far more of her health and safety than +of their own gains. On one occasion, however, they were themselves +deceived. They had undertaken to row her safely over to Haute-Combe, on +the opposite shore of the lake, in order to visit the ruins of the +Abbey. They had scarcely got over two-thirds of the distance, when a +sudden gust of wind, rushing forth from the narrow gorges of the valley +of the Rhône, stirred up the waves of the lake, and produced one of +those short seas which so often prove fatal. The sail of the little +boat was soon gone, and it seemed like a nutshell dancing on the +still-increasing waves. It was impossible to think of returning, and +full half an hour of fatigue and danger must elapse before the boat +could be moored in safety under the hanging cliffs of Haute-Combe. Fate +willed that my wandering sail should be on the lake at the same hour. I +was in a larger boat, with four stout oarsmen, and was going to visit +M. de Chatillon, a relation of my Chambéry friend. His chateau was +situated on the summit of a rock, in a small island at one end of the +lake. A few strokes of the oar would have brought us into the harbor of +Chatillon, but I, who had unconsciously been watching the other boat +and saw it struggling against the wind, perceived the danger in which +it was placed. We put about immediately, and with one heart affronted +the tempest and the dangers of the lake, to try and succor the little +craft, which every now and then disappeared, and was lost in a mist of +foam and spray. My anxiety was intense during the hour that was +required to cross the lake before we could join the little bark. When +we came up to it, the shore was close at hand, and one long wave lodged +it in safety before our eyes on the sand at the foot of the ruined +Abbey. + +We shouted for joy, and rushed through the water to the boat, in order +to carry the invalid ashore. The poor boatman was making signs of +distress, and calling for help; he was pointing to the bottom of the +boat, at something we could not see. On reaching the spot where he +stood, we found that the stranger had fainted, and was lying at the +bottom of the boat. Her body and arms were completely immersed in +water, and her head rested like that of a corpse against the little +wooden chest at the stern, in which the boatmen put their tackle and +provisions. Her hair streamed in disorder about her neck and shoulders, +like the dark wings of a lifeless bird floating on the surface of the +waters. Her face, from which all color had not fled, was calm and +peaceful as in slumber and shone with that preternatural beauty death +leaves on the countenance of those who die young; like the last and +fairest ray of retiring life, lingering on the brow from which it is +about to depart, or the first beam of dawning immortality on the +features which are henceforward to be hallowed in the memory of those +who survive. I had never before, and have never since, seen her so +divinely transfigured. Was Death the most perfect form of her celestial +beauty, or did Providence intend this first and solemn impression, as a +foreshadowing of that unchangeable image of beauty, which I was +destined to entomb in my memory, and eternally evoke! + +We jumped into the boat, to take up the apparently dying woman, and +carry her beyond the rocks. I placed my hand upon her heart, and +approached my ear to her lips, as I would to those of a sleeping +infant. The heart beat irregularly, but with strong pulsations; the +breath was warm, and I saw that she had only fainted from terror and +from cold. One of the boatmen took up her feet, I supported the +shoulders and the head, which rested on my breast. She gave no sign of +life while we carried her thus to a fisherman's house, below the rocks +of Haute-Combe, which serves as an inn for the boatmen, when they +conduct strangers to the ruins. This poor dwelling consisted merely in +one long, dark, smoky room, furnished with a table upon which were +wine, bread, and cheese. A wooden ladder led to an upper room, which +was lighted by a single round window without glass, looking towards the +lake. Almost the whole space of this room was occupied by three beds, +which could be closed up by wooden doors, like large presses. The whole +family slept there. We confided the stranger, who was still insensible, +to the care of the two girls of the house and their mother, and we +stood outside the door, while they extended a mattress near the +chimney, and having lighted a fire of furze, undressed her, dried her +clothes, chafed her limbs, and wrung her streaming hair; they then +carried her upstairs, and placed her in one of the beds, on which they +had spread clean sheets, which had been warmed with one of the heated +hearth-stones, according to the custom of the peasants of that country. +They tried in vain to make her swallow a few drops of wine and vinegar +to bring her to life; but finding all their efforts unavailing, gave +way to tears and lamentations, which soon recalled us into the house. +"The lady is dead! the lady is dead! We can only weep, and send for a +priest." The boatmen mingled their cries with those of the women, and +increased their confusion. I rushed up the ladder and entered the room. +The dim twilight still showed the bed over which I bent. I touched her +forehead; it was burning hot; I could distinguish the low and regular +breathing which made the coarse brown sheet alternately rise and fall +on the chest. I bid the women be quiet, and giving some money to one of +the boatmen, ordered him to fetch a doctor, who, I was told, lived two +leagues off, in a little village on the Mont du Chat. The boatman set +off at full speed; the others, comforted by the assurance that the lady +was not dead, sat down to eat. The women went and came from the parlor +to the cellar, and from the cellar to the poultry-yard, to make +preparations for supper. I remained seated on one of the bags of Indian +corn at the foot of the bed, my hands clasped on my knees, and my eyes +fixed on the inanimate face and closed eyelids of the sufferer. Night +had closed in. One of the young girls had fastened the shutter, and +suspended a small copper lamp against the wall; its rays fell on the +sheets and on the sleeping countenance like the light of holy tapers on +a death-bed. Since then, I have thus watched, alas, by other bedsides, +but the sleepers never woke! + + + + +XII. + + +Never perhaps was the heart of man absorbed for so many long hours in +one strange and overwhelming speculation. Suspended between death and +love, I was unable to divine, as I gazed on the angel form that lay +sleeping before me, whether this night in its mystery would bring-forth +endless anguish, or whether undying love would come in the morning, +with returning life and joy. In the convulsive movements of her +troubled sleep she had thrown the sheet off one of her shoulders upon +which fell the long luxuriant curls of her lustrous hair. The neck had +yielded to the weight of the head, which was thrown back on the pillow, +and slightly inclined towards the left shoulder; one of the arms was +disengaged from the cover-lid and was placed beneath the head, showing +the ivory whiteness of the elbow, which stood out on the coarse brown +linen in which the peasant women had dressed her. On one of the fingers +of the hand, which was half concealed in the masses of dark hair, there +was a small gold ring with a sparkling ruby, on which the rays of the +lamp flashed. The girls had lain down on the floor without undressing, +and their mother had fallen asleep with her hands folded on the back of +a wooden chair. As soon as the cock crowed in the yard, they got up, +and taking their wooden shoes in their hands, noiselessly descended the +ladder to go to work. I remained alone. + +The first gleams of dawn came through the closed shutter in almost +imperceptible streaks of light. I opened the window in the hope that +the balmy morning air from the lake and mountains, which awakened all +Nature, would have the same effect on one whom I would willingly have +revived at the cost of my own life. The chill air rushed into the room, +and extinguished the expiring lamp. Nothing stirred on the bed. I heard +the poor women below joining in common prayer, before commencing their +day's labor. The thought of praying likewise entered my heart. I felt, +as all do who have exhausted the whole strength of their soul, the wish +to superadd the force of some mysterious and preterhuman power to the +impotent tension of ardent desires. I knelt on the floor, with my hands +clasped on the edge of the bed, and my eyes riveted on the face of the +sleeper. I wept, and prayed long and fervently; the tears chased each +other down my face and hid from my blinded eyes the features of the one +whose recovery I so ardently desired. My whole heart and soul were so +absorbed in one feeling and one sensation, that I might have remained +hours in the same attitude without being aware of the lapse of time, or +the pain of kneeling on the stone floor; when suddenly, while I was +unconsciously wiping away my tears, I felt a hand touch mine, part the +hair from my face, and gently rest upon my head, as if to bless me. + +I looked up with a cry of delight; I saw her unclosed eyes, her smiling +lips, her hand extended towards mine, and heard these words: "O God! I +thank thee. I have now a brother!" + + + + +XIII. + + +[Illustration: RAPHAEL'S DEVOTION.] + + + +The cool morning air had awakened her, while I was praying by her +bedside, with my face buried in my hands. She had noted my ardent pity, +and my ardent prayer, and had recognized me by the clear light of +morning, which now streamed into the chamber. When she had fainted she +was lonely and indifferent, and had revived under the tender care, and +perhaps the love of a pitying stranger. She, who, in the neglected +flower of her days, had been deprived of all the kindred ties of the +heart, had unexpectedly found in me the care and pity, the tears and +prayers, of a youthful brother; and that tender name had escaped her +lips at the moment that returning life gave her the consciousness of so +great a joy. + +"A brother! Ah, no, not a brother!" I exclaimed, reverently removing +her hand from my brow, as though I had not been worthy of her touch, +"not a brother, but a slave, a living shadow following on your steps, +who asks but one blessing of Heaven, and one felicity on earth--the +right of remembering this night; who only desires to preserve eternally +the image of the superhuman vision he would wish to follow unto death, +or for whom alone he could bear to live." As I faltered out these words +in a low voice, the rosy tints of life gradually reappeared on her +cheeks, a sad smile, implying an obstinate unbelief in happiness, +played round her mouth, and she raised her eyes to the ceiling, as +though they listened to words which responded not to the ear, but to +the thoughts. Never was the change from life to death, from a dream to +reality, so rapid; on her countenance, now blooming with youth and +refreshed by rest, surprise, languor, delight, repose, joy and +melancholy, timidity and grace were all painted in quick succession. +Her radiance seemed to illumine the dark recess more than the light of +morning. There existed more languor, more revealings, more sympathy in +her looks and silence, than in millions of words. The human face speaks +a language to the eye, and in youth the countenance is an instrument of +which one look of passion sweeps the keys. It transmits from soul to +soul mysteries of mute communion, which cannot be translated into +words. My countenance, too, must have revealed what I felt to those +eyes which were bent so earnestly upon me. My damp clothes, my long, +dishevelled hair, my eyes heavy with watching, my pale and anxious +looks, the pious enthusiasm with which I bent before the holiness of +suffering beauty, my emotion, joy, and surprise, the dimness of the +room in which I durst not take a step for fear of dispelling the +enchantment of so divine a dream, the first rays of sun, which showed +the tears still glistening in my eyes,--all conspired to lend to my +countenance a power of expression, and a look of tenderness, which it +will doubtless never wear again in the course of a long life. + +Unable to bear any longer the reaction of these feelings, and the +internal vibration of such silence, I called up the women. On entering +the room, they broke out into repeated exclamations of surprise at the +sight of a resurrection which appeared to them a miracle. At the same +moment the doctor made his appearance. He prescribed repose and an +infusion of certain plants of the mountain which allay the irregular +movements of the heart. He reassured every one by telling us that the +lady's malady was one of youth, produced by excessive sensibility, and +which time would mitigate; that it was but a superabundance of life, +although it often wore the appearance of death, and was never fatal, +except when inward grief or some moral cause changed its character into +one of habitual melancholy, or an unconquerable distaste to life. While +some of the women went out into the fields, to gather the samples +ordered by the doctor, and others were ironing out her damp clothes in +the lower room, I left the house to wander alone among the ruins of the +old Abbey. + + + + +XIV. + + +But my heart was too full of its own emotions to feel interested in the +anchorites of the Abbey. The enthusiasm and self-denial of the early +monasteries had subsided into a profession; and at a later period their +lives, unlinked with those of their fellow-beings, had fruitlessly +evaporated within these cloisters, and left no trace behind. I felt no +regret as I stood upon their tombs, but only wondered, as I noted how +speedily Nature seizes on the empty dwellings and deserted abodes of +man, and how superior is the living architecture of shrubs and briers, +waving ivy, wall-flowers and creeping plants, throwing their mantle on +the ruined walls, to the cold symmetry of stones, or the lifeless +ornaments of the chiselled monuments of men. + +There was now more sunshine, music, and perfume, more holy psalmody of +the winds and waters, of birds, and sonorous echoes of the lakes and +forests, beneath the crumbling pillars, dismantled nave, and shattered +roof of the empty Abbey, than there had been holy tapers, fumes of +incense and monotonous chants in the ceremonies and processions that +filled it night and day. Nature is the high priest, the noblest +decorator, the holiest poet and most inspired musician of God. The +young swallows in their nests below the broken cornice, greeting their +mother with their cheerful chirping; the sighing of the breeze, which +seems to bear to the unpeopled cloisters the sound of flapping sails, +the lament of the waves, and the dying notes of the fisherman's song; +the balmy emanations which now and then are wafted through the nave; +the flowers which shed their leaves upon the tombs, the waving of the +green drapery which clothes the walls; the sonorous and reverberated +echoes of the stranger's steps upon the vaults where sleep the +dead,--are all as full of piety, holy thoughts, and unbounded +aspirations, as was the monastery in its days of sacred splendor. Man +is no longer there, with all his miserable passions contracted by the +narrow pale in which they were confined, but not extinguished; but God +is there, never so plainly seen as in the works of Nature,--God whose +unshadowed splendor seems to re-enter once more these intellectual +graves, whose vaulted roofs no longer intercept the glorious sunshine +and the light of heaven. + + + + +XV. + + +I was not at the time sufficiently composed to understand my own +feelings. I felt as one just relieved from a heavy burden, who breathes +freely, relaxes his contracted muscles, and walks to and fro in his +strength, as though he could devour space, and inhale all the air of +heaven. My own heart was the burden of which I had been relieved, and, +in giving it to another, I felt as if I had for the first time entered +into the fulness of life. Man is so truly born to love, that it is only +when he has the consciousness of loving fully and entirely that he +feels himself really a man. Until then he is disturbed and restless, +inconstant and wandering in his thoughts; but from thenceforward all +his waverings cease, he feels at rest, and sees his destiny before him. + +I sat down upon the ivy-covered wall of a high dilapidated terrace +which overlooked the lake. My eyes wandered over the bright expanse of +water and the luminous immensity of the sky; they were so well blended +in the azure line of the horizon that it would have been impossible to +define where the sky commenced, and where the lake terminated. I seemed +to float in the pure ether, or to be merged in a universal ocean. But +the inward joy which inundated my soul was far more infinite, radiant, +and incommensurate, than the atmosphere with which I seemed to mingle. +I could not have defined my joy, or rather my inward serenity. It was +as some unfathomable secret revealed to me by feelings instead of +words,--as the sensation of the eye passing from darkness into light, +or as the rapture of some mystical soul, secure in the possession of +its God. It was dazzling light, intoxication without giddiness, repose +without heaviness, or immobility. I could have lived on thus during as +many thousand years as there were ripples on the lake, or sands upon +its shores, without perceiving that more seconds had elapsed than were +required for a single respiration. When the immortal dwellers in heaven +first lose the consciousness of the duration of time, they must feel +thus; it was an immutable thought, in the eternity of an instant. + + + + +XVI. + + +These sensations were not precise, or definable. They were too complete +to be scanned; thought could not divide, nor reflection analyze them. +They did not take their rise in the loveliness of the superhuman +creature that I adored, for the shadow of death still lay between her +beauty and my eyes; or in the pride of being loved by her, for I knew +not if I was more in her sight than a dream of morning; or in the hope +of possessing her charms, for my respect was too far above such vile +gratifications of the senses even to stoop to them in thought; or in +the satisfaction of displaying my triumph, for selfish vanity held no +place in my heart, and I knew no one in that secluded spot before whom +I could profane my love by disclosing it; or in the hope of linking her +fate with mine, for I knew she was another's; or in the certainty of +seeing her, and the happiness of following her steps, for I was as +little free as she was, and in a few days fate was to divide us; nor, +lastly, in the certainty of being beloved, for I knew nothing of her +heart, except the one word and look of gratitude that she had addressed +to me. + +Mine was another feeling; pure, calm, disinterested, and immaterial. It +was repose of the heart, after having met with the long sought-for, and +till then unfound, object of its restless adoration; the long-desired +idol of that vague, unquiet adoration of supreme beauty which agitates +the soul until the divinity has been discovered, and that our heart has +clung to as a straw to the magnet, or mingled with as sighs with the +surrounding air. + +Strange to say, I felt no impatience to see her once more, to hear her +voice, to be near her, or to converse freely with one who had become +the sole object of my life and thoughts. I had seen her and she had +become part of myself. Henceforward nothing could rob my soul of its +possession; far or near, present or absent, I bore her with me; all +else was indifferent. Perfect love is patient, because it is absolute, +and knows itself to be eternal. No power could tear her from my heart. +I felt that henceforward her image was completely mine; it was to me +what light is to the eye that has once seen it, air to the lungs that +have once inhaled it, or thought to the mind in which it has once been +conceived. I defied Heaven itself to rob me of this divine embodying of +my desires. I had seen her, and that was enough. For the contemplative, +to see is to enjoy. It scarcely mattered to me whether she loved me, or +whether she passed me by without perceiving me. I had been touched by +her splendor, and was still enveloped in her rays; she could no more +withdraw them from me than the sun can take from the earth the beams +which he has shed upon it. I felt that darkness and night had fled +forever from my heart, and that she would evermore shine there, as she +then shone, though I lived for a thousand years. + + + + +XVII. + + +This conviction gave to my love all the security of immutability, the +calm of certainty, the overflowing ecstasy of joy that would never be +impaired. I took no note of time, knowing that I had before me hours +without end, and that each in succession would give me back her inward +presence. I might be separated from her during a century without +reducing by one day the eternity of my love. I went and came; sat down +and got up again. I ran, then stopped and walked on without feeling the +ground beneath my feet, like those phantoms which glide upon earth, +upheld by their impalpable, ethereal nature. I extended my arms to +grasp the air, the light, the lake; I would have clasped all Nature in +one vast embrace in thankfulness that she had become incarnate, for me, +in a being that united all her charms and splendor, power, and +delights. I knelt on the stones and briers of the ruins without feeling +them and on the brink of precipices without perceiving them. I uttered +inarticulate words, which were lost in the sound of the noisy waters of +the lake; I strove to pierce the vaults of heaven, and to carry my song +of gratitude, and my ecstasy of joy, into the very presence of God. I +was no longer a man, I was a living hymn of praise, prayer, adoration, +worship of overflowing, speechless thankfulness. I felt an intoxication +of the heart, a madness of the soul; my body had lost the consciousness +of its materiality and I no longer believed in time, or space, or +death. The new life of love which had gushed forth in my heart gave me +the consciousness, the anticipated enjoyment, of the fulness of +immortality. + + + + +XVIII. + + +I was made aware of the flight of time by seeing the meridian sun +striking on the summit of the Abbey walls. I came down the hill through +the woods bounding from rock to rock, and from tree to tree. My heart +beat as though it would burst. As I approached the little inn, I saw +the stranger in a sloping meadow behind the house. She was seated at +the foot of a sunny wall, against which the inhabitants of the place +had piled a few stones. Her white dress shone out on the verdant +meadow, and the shade of a haystack screened her face from the sun. She +was reading in a little book that lay open on her lap, and every now +and then interrupted her reading to play with the children from the +mountain, who came to offer her flowers, or chestnuts. On seeing me, +she attempted to rise as if to meet me half-way, and her gesture was +quite sufficient to encourage me to approach. She received me with a +blushing look and tremulous lip, which I perceived, and which increased +my own bashfulness. The strangeness of our situation was so +embarrassing, that we remained some time without finding a word to say +to each other. At last, with a timid and scarcely intelligible gesture, +she motioned to me to sit down on the hay, not far from her; it seemed +to me that she has expected me, and had kept a place for me. I sat down +respectfully at some distance. Our silence remained unbroken, and it +was evident that we were both ineffectually seeking to exchange some of +those commonplace phrases which may be called the base coin of +conversation, and serve to conceal thoughts instead of revealing them. +Fearing to say too much or too little, we gave no utterance to what was +in our hearts; we remained mute, and our silence increased our +embarrassment. At length, our downcast eyes were raised at the same +moment and met; I saw such depth of sensibility in hers, and she read +in mine so much suppressed rapture, truth, and deep feeling, that we +could no longer take them off each other's face, and tears rising to +our eyes, at the same instant, from both our hearts we each +instinctively put up our hands as if to veil our thoughts. + +I know not how long we remained thus. At last, in a trembling voice, +and with a somewhat constrained and impatient tone, she said: "You have +wept over me; I have called you brother, you have adopted me for your +sister, and yet we dare not look at each other? A tear," she added, "a +disinterested tear from an unknown heart is more than my life is +worth,--more than it has ever yet called forth!" Then with a slightly +reproachful accent she said: "Am I then become once more a stranger to +you, since I no longer require your care? Oh, as to me," she proceeded +in a resolute tone of confidence, "I know nothing of you but your name +and countenance, but I know your heart! A century could not teach me +more!" + +"For my part," said I, faltering, "I would wish to learn nothing of all +that makes you a being like unto ourselves, and bound by the same links +as us to this wretched world. I require but to know this,--that you +have traversed it, and that you have allowed me to contemplate you from +afar, and to remember you always." + +"Oh, do not deceive yourself thus!" she replied; "do not see in me a +deified delusion of your own heart; I should have to suffer too much +when the chimera vanished. View me as I am; as a poor woman, who is +dying in despondency and solitude, and who will take with her from +earth no feeling more divine than that of pity. You will understand +this, when I tell you who I am," added she; "but first answer me on one +point, which has disquieted me since the day I first saw you in the +garden. Why, young and gentle as you seem to be, are you so lonely and +so sad? Why do you fly from the company and conversation of our host, +to wander alone on the lake, and in the most secluded parts of the +mountains, or to retire into your room? Your light burns far into the +night, I am told. Have you some secret in your heart that you confine +to solitude?" She waited my answer with visible anxiety, and kept her +eyes closed, as if to conceal the impression it might make upon her. +"My secret," said I, "is to have none; to feel the weight of a heart +that no enthusiasm upheld until this hour; of a heart which I have +endeavored to engage in unsatisfactory attachments, and which I have +ever been obliged to resume with such bitterness and loathing, as +forever to discourage me, young and feeling as I am, from loving." I +then told her, without concealment, as I would have spoken before +Heaven, of all that could interest her in my life. I related my birth, +my humble and poor condition; I spoke of my father, a soldier of former +days; my mother, a woman of exquisite sensibility, whose youth had been +passed in all the refinement and elegance of letters; my young sisters, +their pious and angelic simplicity; I mentioned my education among the +children of my native mountains; my ready enthusiasm for study; my +involuntary inaction; my travels; my first thrill of the heart beside +the youthful daughter of the Neapolitan fisherman; the unprofitable +acquaintances I formed in Paris,--the levity, misconduct, and +self-abasement which had been the result; my desire for a soldier's +life, which peace had counteracted at the very time I entered the army; +my leaving my regiment; my wanderings without an object; my hopeless +return to the paternal roof; my wasting melancholy; my wish to die; my +weariness of everything; and lastly, I spoke of my physical languor, A +proceeding from heaviness of the soul, and of that premature +decrepitude of the heart, and distaste of life, which was concealed +beneath the appearance and features of a man of four-and-twenty. I +dwelt with inward satisfaction on the disappointments, weariness, and +bitterness of my life, for I no longer felt them! A single look had +regenerated me. I spoke of myself as of one that was dead; a new man +was born within me. When I had ended, I raised my eyes to her, as +towards my judge. She was trembling and pale with emotion. "Heavens," +she exclaimed, "how you alarmed me!" "And why?" said I. "Because," she +rejoined, "if you had not been unhappy and lonely here below, there +would have been one link the less between us. You would have felt no +desire to pity another; and I should have quitted life without having +seen a shadow of myself, save in the heartless mirror where my own cold +image is reflected." + +"The history of your life," she continued, "is the history of mine, +with the change of a few particulars. Only yours commences, and mine--" +I would not let her conclude. "No, no!" said I hoarsely pressing my +lips to her feet, which I embraced convulsively as if to hold her down +to earth; "no, no! you will not, must not die; or, if you do, I feel +two lives will end at once!" + +I was alarmed at my own gesture and at the exclamation which had +involuntarily escaped me; and I durst not raise my face off the ground, +from which she had withdrawn her feet. "Rise," she said, in a grave +voice, but without anger; "do not worship dust--dust as lowly as that +in which you are soiling your fine hair, and which will be scattered as +light and as impalpable by the first autumnal wind. Do not deceive +yourself as to the poor creature you see before you. I am but the +shadow of youth, of beauty, and of love,--of the love you will one day +feel and inspire, when this shadow shall long have passed away. Keep +your heart for those who are to live, and only give to the dying what +the dying ask, a gentle hand to support their last steps, and tears to +mourn their loss." + +The grave and serious tone-with which she said these words struck to my +heart. Yet as I looked on her, and saw the glowing tints of the setting +sun illumining her face, which shone with hourly increasing youth and +serenity of expression, as though a new sun had risen in her heart, I +could not believe in death concealed under these glorious signs of +life. Besides, what cared I? If that heavenly vision was death, well, +it was death I loved. It might be that the vast and perfect love for +which I thirsted was only to be found in death. It might be that God +had only showed me its nearly extinguished light on earth, to urge me +to follow the trace of its ray into the grave, and from thence to +heaven. + +"Do not stay dreaming thus," she said, "but listen to me!" This was not +said with the accent of one who loves, and affects a sportive +seriousness, but with the tone of a still youthful mother, or an elder +sister counselling a brother or a son. "I do not wish you to attach +yourself to a false appearance, a delusion, a dream; I wish you to know +her to whom you so rashly pledge a heart which she could only retain by +deceiving you. Falsehood has always been so odious and so impossible to +me, that I could not desire the supreme felicity of heaven, if I must +enter heaven by deceit. Stolen happiness would not be happiness for me, +it would be remorse." + +As she spoke, there was so much candor on her lips, so much sincerity +in her tone, and limpid purity in her eyes, that I fancied as I looked +at her that under her pure and lovely form I saw immortal Truth, in the +broad light of day, pouring her voice into the ear, her look into the +eye, and her soul into the heart. I stretched myself on the hay at her +feet and, with my elbow leaning on the ground, I rested my head upon my +hand; my eyes were riveted upon her lips, of which I strove not to lose +a single motion, a single modulation, or a single sigh. + + + + +XIX. + + +"I was born," she said, "in the same land as Virginia (for the poet's +fancy has given a real birthplace to his dream), in an island of the +tropics. You may have guessed it from the color of my hair, and from my +complexion, which is paler than that of European women. You must have +perceived, too, the accent which still lingers on my lips. In truth, I +rather wish to preserve that accent as my only memento of my native +land; it recalls to my mind the plaintive and harmonious sounds of the +sea-breeze that are heard at noon beneath the lofty palms. You may also +have noticed that incorrigible indolence of walk and attitude, so +different from the vivacity of French women, which indicates in the +Creole a wild and natural frankness that knows not how to feign or to +dissemble. + +"My family name is D----, and my own is Julie. My mother was lost in a +boat in attempting to leave our native island during an insurrection of +the blacks. I was washed ashore and saved by a black woman, who took +care of me for several years, and then delivered me over to my father. +He brought me to France when I was six years old, with an elder sister, +and a short time after he died in poverty and exile in the house of +some poor relations, who had hospitably received us in Brittany. The +second mother whom I had found in exile provided for my education until +her death, and, at twelve years old, I was adopted by the government as +being the daughter of a man who had done some service to his country. + +"I was brought up in all the luxurious splendor, and amid the choice +friendships of those sumptuous houses, in which the State receives the +daughters of those who die for their country. I grew in years, in +talent, and also, it was said, in beauty. Mine was a grave and saddened +grace, like the flower of some tropical plant blooming awhile beneath a +foreign sky. But my useless beauty and my unavailing talents gladdened +no eye or heart beyond the narrow precincts in which I was confined. My +companions, with whom I had formed those close intimacies which make +the friends of childhood the kindred of the heart, had all left, one by +one, to join their mothers, or to follow their husbands. No mother took +me home; no relation came to visit me; no young man heard of me, or +sought me for his wife. I was saddened by these successive departures +of all my friends, and felt sorrowful to think I was forsaken by the +whole world, and doomed to an eternal bereavement of the heart without +ever having loved. I often wept in secret, and regretted that the poor +black woman had not allowed me to perish in the waves of my native +shore, more merciful to me than the ocean, of the world on which I was +cast. + +"Now and then, an old man of great celebrity would come to visit, in +the name of the Emperor, the national house of education, and inquire +into the progress of the pupils in the arts and sciences, which were +taught by the first masters of the capital; I was always pointed out to +him as the brightest example of the education bestowed on the orphans. +He invariably treated me with peculiar predilection from my childhood. +'How I regret,' he would sometimes say, loud enough for me to hear, +'that I have no son!' + +"One day I was called down to the parlor of the Superior. I found there +my illustrious and venerable friend, who seemed as discomposed as I was +myself. 'My child,' said he, at length, 'years roll on for every +one,--slowly for you, swiftly for me. You are now seventeen; in a few +months you will have attained the age at which you must leave this +house for the world; but there is no world to receive you. You have no +country, no home, no fortune, and no family in France; your unprotected +and dependent situation has made me feel anxious on your account for +many years. The life of a young girl who earns her livelihood by her +labor is full of snares and bitterness, and a home offered by friends +is both precarious and humiliating to the spirit. The extreme beauty +that Nature has bestowed upon you will, by its brightness, dispel the +obscurity of your fate and attract vice, as the brightness of gold +induces theft. Where do you mean to take shelter from the sorrows and +dangers of life?' 'I know not,' I answered; 'and I have thought +sometimes that death alone can save me from my fate!' 'Oh,' he replied, +with a sad and irresolute smile, 'I have thought of another mode of +escape, but I scarcely dare propose it.' 'Speak without fear, sir,' I +answered; 'you have during so many years spoken to me with the look and +accent of a father, that I shall fancy I am obeying mine, in obeying +you.' 'Ah, he would be happy indeed,' he replied, 'who had a daughter +such as you! Forgive me if I have sometimes indulged in such a dream! +Listen to me,' he added in a more tender and serious tone; 'and answer +me in thorough frankness and liberty of heart. + +"'My life is drawing to a close; the grave will soon open to receive +me, and I have no relations to whom to bequeath my only wealth,--the +unaspiring celebrity of my name, and the humble fortune that I have +acquired by my labors. Hitherto I have lived alone, completely absorbed +by the studies that have consumed and dignified my life. I draw near to +the close of my existence, and I am painfully aware that I have not +commenced to live, since I have not thought of loving. It is too late +to retrace my steps, and follow the path of happiness instead of that +of glory, which I have unfortunately chosen; and yet I would not die +without leaving in some memory that prolongation of existence in the +existence of another, which is called affection,--the only immortality +in which I believe. I cannot hope for more than gratitude, and I feel +that it is from you that I should wish to obtain it. But,' added he, +more timidly, 'for that, you must consent to accept, in the eyes of the +world, and for the world only, the name, the hand, and the affection of +an old man who would he a father under the name of husband, and who, as +such, would merely seek the right of receiving you into his house, and +loving you as his child.' + +"He stopped, and refused that day to hear the answer which was already +hovering on my lips. He was the only man among all the visitors of the +house who had evinced any feeling towards me, beyond that vulgar and +almost insolent admiration which shows itself in looks and +exclamations, and is as much an offence as an homage. I knew nothing of +love; I only felt an absence of all family ties which I thought the +tenderness of my adoptive father would replace. I was offered a safe +and honorable refuge against the dangers of the life in which I was to +enter in a few months; and a name which would be as a diadem to the +woman who bore it. His hair had grown white, it was true, but under the +touch of Fame, which bestows eternal youth upon its favorites; his +years would have numbered four times mine, but his regular and majestic +features inspired respect for time, and no disgust for old age, and his +countenance, where genius and goodness were combined, possessed that +beauty of declining age which attracts the eye and affection even of +childhood." + + * * * * * + +"The very day I quitted forever the Orphan Establishment, I entered my +husband's house, not as his wife, but as his daughter. The world gave +him the name of husband, but he never suffered me to call him anything +but father, and he was such to me in care and tenderness. He made me +the adored and radiating centre of a select and distinguished circle, +composed for the greater part of those old men, eminent in letters, +politics, or philosophy, who had been the glory of the preceding +century and had escaped the fury of the Revolution, and the voluntary +servitude of the Empire. He selected for me friends and guides among +those women of the same period who were most remarkable for their +talents or virtues; he promoted and encouraged all those connections +most likely to interest my mind or heart, and to diversify the +monotonous life I led in an old man's house; and far from being severe +or jealous in respect of my acquaintances, he sought by the most +courteous attention to attract all those distinguished men whose +society might have charms for me. He would have liked whomever I had +chosen, and would have been pleased if I had shown preference to any +one among the crowd. I was the worshipped idol of the house, and the +general idolatry of which I was the object went far, perhaps, to guard +me against any individual predilection. I was too happy and too much +flattered to inquire into the state of my own heart, and besides, there +was so much paternal tenderness in my husband's manner towards me, +although he only showed his fondness by sometimes holding me to his +heart, and kissing my forehead, from which he gently parted my hair, +that I should have feared to disturb my happiness by seeking to render +it complete. He would sometimes, however, playfully rally me on my +indifference, and tell me that all that tended to add to my happiness +would increase his own. + +"Once, and once only, I thought I loved and was beloved. A man whose +genius had rendered him illustrious, who was powerful from his high +favor with the Emperor, and who was doubly captivating by his renown +and appearance, although he had passed the meridian of life, sought me +with a signal devotion that deceived me. I was not elated with pride, +but rather with gratitude and surprise. I loved him for a time, or +rather I loved a self-created delusion under his name. I might have +yielded to the charm of such a feeling, had I not discovered that what +I supposed to be a passionate attachment of the heart was on his part +only an infatuation of the senses. When I perceived the real nature of +his love, it became odious to me, and I blushed to think how I had been +deceived; I took back my heart, and wrapped myself once more in the +cold monotony of my happiness. + +"The morning was spent in deep and engaging studies with my husband, +whose willing disciple I was. During the day we took long and solitary +walks in the woods of St. Cloud or of Meudon; and in the evening a few +grave, and for the most part elderly, friends would meet and discourse +on various topics, with all the freedom of intimacy. These cold but +indulgent hearts inclined toward my youth, from that natural bias which +makes the love of the aged descend on the youthful, as the streams of +snow-covered summits flow downwards to the plain. But these hoary heads +seemed to shed their snows on me, and my youth pined and wasted away in +the ungenial atmosphere of age. There lay too great a space of years +between their hearts and mine! Oh, what would I not have given to have +had one friend of my own age, by the contact of whose warm heart I +might have dissolved the thoughts that froze within me, as the dew of +morning congeals upon the plants that grow too near these mountain +glaciers! + +"My husband often looked sadly at me, and seemed alarmed at my pale +face and languid voice. He would have desired, at any cost, to give air +and motion to my heart. He continually tried to induce me to mingle in +diversions which might dispel my melancholy, and would use gentle force +to oblige me to appear at balls and theatres, in the hope that the +natural pride which my youth and beauty might have given me would have +made me share in the pleasure of those around me. The next morning, as +soon as I was awake, he would come into my room and make me relate the +impression I had produced, the admiration I had attracted, and even +speak of the hearts that I had seemed to touch. 'And you,' would he +say, in a tone of gentle interrogation, 'do you share none of these +feelings that you inspire? Is your young heart at twenty as old as +mine? Oh, that I could see you single out from among all these admirers +one superior being, who might one day, by his love, render your +happiness complete, and when I am gone, continue my affection for you +under a younger and more tender form!' 'Your affection suffices me,' I +would answer; 'I feel no pain; I desire nothing; I am happy!' 'Yes,' he +would rejoin, 'you are happy, but you are growing old at twenty! Oh, +remember that it is your task to close my eyes! Live and love! oh, do +but live, that I may not survive you! + +"He called in one doctor after another; they wearied me with questions, +and all agreed in saying that I was threatened with spasm of the heart. +The fainting fits, incident to the disease, had begun to show +themselves. I required, it was said, to break through the usual routine +of my life, to relinquish for some time my sedentary habits, and seek a +complete change of air and scene, in order to give me that stimulus and +energy that my tropical nature required, and which it had lost in the +cold and misty atmosphere of Paris. My husband did not hesitate one +moment between the hope of prolonging my life and the happiness of +keeping me near him. As he could not, by reason of his age and +occupations, accompany me, he confided me to the care of friends who +were travelling in Switzerland and Italy, with two daughters of my own +age. I travelled with that family two years; I have seen mountains and +seas that reminded me of those of my native land; I have breathed the +balmy and stimulating air of the waves and glaciers; but nothing has +restored to me the youth that has withered in my heart, although it +sometimes appears to bloom on my face, so as to deceive even me. The +doctors of Geneva have sent me here, as the last resource of their art; +they have advised me to prolong my stay as long as one ray of sun +lingers in the autumnal sky; then I shall rejoin my husband. Alas, that +I could have shown him his daughter, once more young, and radiant with +health and hope! But I feel that I shall return only to sadden his +latter days, and perhaps to expire in his arms! Well," she rejoined in +a resigned and almost joyful tone, "I shall not now leave earth without +having seen my long-expected brother,--the brother of the soul, that +some secret instinct taught me to expect, and whose image, foreshadowed +in my fancy, had made me indifferent to all real beings. Yes," she +said, covering her eyes with her rosy taper fingers between which I saw +one or two tears trickle; "oh, yes, the dream of all my nights was +embodied in you this morning, when I awoke! ... Oh, if it were not too +late to live on, I would wish to live for centuries, to prolong the +consciousness of that look, which seemed to weep over me, of that heart +that pitied me, of that voice," she added, unveiling her eyes which +were raised to heaven,--"of that voice that called me sister! ... That +tender name will never more be taken from me," she added with a look +and tone of gentle interrogation, "during life, or after death?" + + + + +XX. + + +I sank at her feet overpowered with felicity, and pressed my lips to +them without saying a word. I heard the step of the boatmen, who came +to tell us that the lake was calm, and that there was but just +sufficient daylight left to cross over to the Savoy shore. We rose to +follow them, with unsteady steps, as if intoxicated with joy. Oh, who +can describe what I experienced, as I felt the weight of her pliant but +exhausted frame hanging delightfully on my arm, as though she wished to +feel, and make me feel, that I was henceforward her only support in +weakness, her only trust in sorrow, the only link by which she held to +earth! Methinks I hear even now, though fifteen years have passed since +that hour, the sound of the dry leaves as they rustled beneath our +tread; I see our two long shadows blended into one, which the sun cast +on the left side on the grass of the orchard, and which seemed, like a +living shroud tracking the steps of youth and love, to develop them +before their time. I feel the gentle warmth of her shoulder against my +heart, and the touch of one of the tresses of her hair, which the wind +of the lake waved against my face, and which my lips strove to retain +and to kiss. O Time, what eternities of joy thou buriest in one such +minute, or rather, how powerless art thou against memory; how impotent +to give forgetfulness! + + + + +XXI. + + +The evening was as warm and peaceful as the preceding day had been cold +and stormy. The mountains were bathed in a soft purple light which made +them appear larger and more distant than usual, and they seemed like +huge floating shadows through whose transparency one could perceive the +warm sky of Italy which lay beyond. The sky was mottled with small +crimson clouds, like the ensanguined plumes which fall from the wing of +the wounded swan, struggling in the grasp of an eagle. + +The wind had subsided as evening came on; the silvery rippling waves +threw a slight fringe of spray around the rocks, from which the +dripping branches of the fig-trees depended. The smoke from the +cottages, which lay scattered on the Mont du Chat, rose here and there, +and crept upward along the mountain sides, while the cascades fell into +the ravines below, like a smoke of waters. The waves of the lake were +so transparent, that as we leaned over the side of the boat, we could +see the reflection of the oars and of our own faces, and so warm, that +as we drew our fingers through them, we felt but a voluptuous caress of +the waters. We were separated from the boatmen by a small curtain, as +in the gondolas of Venice. She was lying on one of the benches of the +boat, as on a couch, with her elbow resting upon a cushion; she was +enveloped in shawls to protect her from the damp of evening, and my +cloak was placed in several folds upon her feet; her face, at times in +shade, was at others illumined by the last rosy tints of the sun, which +seemed suspended over the dark firs of the Grande Chartreuse. I was +lying on a heap of nets at the bottom of the boat; my heart was full, +my lips were mute, my eyes were fixed on hers. What need had we to +speak, when the sun, the hour, the mountains, the air and water, the +voluptuous balancing of the boat, the light ripple of the murmuring +waters as we divided them, our looks, our silence, and our hearts, +which beat in unison,--all spoke so eloquently for us? We rather seemed +to fear instinctively that the least sound of voice or words would jar +discordantly on such enchanting silence. We seemed to glide from the +azure of the lake to the azure of the horizon, without seeing the +shores we left, or the shores on which we were about to land. + +I heard one longer and more deep-drawn sigh fall slowly from her lips, +as though her bosom, oppressed by some secret weight, had at one breath +exhaled the aspirations of a long life. I felt alarmed. "Are you in +pain?" I inquired, sadly. "No," she said; "it was not pain, it was +thought." "What were you thinking of so intensely?" I rejoined. "I was +thinking," she answered, "that if God were at this instant to strike +all nature with immobility; if the sun were to remain thus, its disk +half hidden behind those dark firs, which seem the fringed lashes of +the eye of heaven; if light and shade remained thus blended in the +atmosphere, this lake in its same transparency, this air as balmy, +these two shores forever at the same distance from this boat, the same +ray of ethereal light on your brow, the same look of pity reflected +from your eyes in mine, this same fulness of joy in my heart,--I should +comprehend what I have never comprehended since I first began to think, +or to dream." "What?" said I, anxiously. "Eternity in one instant, and +the Infinite in one sensation!" she exclaimed, half leaning over the +edge of the boat, as if to look at the water and to spare me the +embarrassment of an answer. I was awkward enough to reply by some +commonplace phrase of vulgar gallantry, which unfortunately rose to my +lips, instead of the chaste and ineffable adoration which inundated my +heart. It was something to the effect that such happiness would not +suffice me, if it were not the promise of another and a greater +felicity. She understood me but too well, and blushed, on my account +rather than her own. She turned to me with all the emotion of profaned +purity depicted on her face, and in accents as tender, but more solemn +and heartfelt than any that had yet fallen from her lips: "You have +given me pain," she said in a low voice; "come hither, nearer to me, +and listen; I know not if what I feel for you, and what you appear to +feel for me, be what is termed love, in the obscure and confused +language of this world in which the same words serve to express +feelings that bear no resemblance to each other, save in the sound they +yield upon the lips of man. I do not wish to know it; and you--oh, I +beseech you, never seek to know it! But this I know, that it is the +most supreme and entire happiness that the soul of one created being +can draw from the soul, the eyes, and the voice of another being like +to herself, of a being who till now was wanting to her happiness, and +of whom she completes the existence. Besides this boundless happiness, +this mutual response of thought to thought, of heart to heart, of soul +to soul, which blends them in one indivisible existence, and makes them +as inseparable as the ray of yonder setting sun, and the beam of yonder +rising moon, when they meet in this same sky, and ascend in mingled +light in the same ether--is there another joy, gross image of the one I +feel, as far removed from the eternal and immaterial union of our souls +as dust is from these stars, or a minute from eternity? I know not! and +I will not, cannot know!" she added in a tone of disdainful sadness. +"But," she resumed, with a confiding look and attitude, which seemed to +make her wholly mine, "what do words signify? I love you! All nature +would say it for me, if I did not; or rather, let me proclaim it first, +for both: We love each other!" + +"Oh, say, say it once more, say it a thousand times," I exclaimed, +rising like a madman, and walking backwards and forwards in the boat, +which shook beneath my feet. "Let us say it together, say it to God and +man, say it to heaven and earth, say it to the mute, unheeding +elements! Say it eternally, and let all nature repeat it eternally with +us!" ... I fell on my knees before her, with my hands clasped, and my +disordered hair falling over my face. "Be calm," she said, placing her +fingers on my lips, "and let me speak without interruption to the end." +I sat down and remained silent. + +"I have said," she resumed, "or rather I have not said, I have called +out to you from the depths of my soul, that I love you! I love with all +the accumulated power of the expectations, dreams, and impatient +longings of a sterile life of eight-and-twenty years, passed in +watching and not seeing, in seeking and not finding, what some +presentiment taught me to expect, and you have revealed to me. But, +alas, I have known and loved you too late, if you understand love as +most men do, and as you seemed to comprehend it, when you spoke just +now, those light and profane words. Listen to me once more," she added, +"and understand me; I am yours, wholly yours. I belong to you as I do +to myself, and I may say so without wronging the adoptive father, who +never considered me but as a daughter. I am wholly yours, and of myself +I only keep back what you wish me to retain. Do not be surprised at +this language, which is not that of the women of Europe; they love and +are beloved tamely, and would fear to weaken the sentiments they +inspire by avowing a secret that they wish to have wrested from them. I +differ from them by my country, by my feelings, and by my education. I +have lived with a philosopher in the society of free-thinkers, +unshackled by the belief and observances of the religion they have +undermined, and have none of the superstitions, weaknesses and scruples +which make ordinary women bow before another judge than their +conscience. The God of their childhood is not my God. I believe in the +God who has written his symbol in Nature, his law in our hearts, his +morality in our reason. Reason, feeling and conscience are the only +Revelation in which I believe. Neither of these oracles of my life +forbid me to be yours, and the impulse of my whole soul would cast me +into your arms, if you could only be happy at that price. But shall you +or I place our happiness in a fugitive delirium of the senses, which +cannot give half the enjoyment that its voluntary renunciation would +afford our hearts? Shall we not more fully believe in the immateriality +and eternity of our love, if it remains, like a pure thought, in those +regions which are inaccessible to change and death, than if it were +degraded and profaned by unworthy delights? If ever," she added, after +a short silence, and blushing deeply, "if ever, in a moment of frenzy +and incredulity, you exacted from me such a proof of abnegation, the +sacrifice would not only be one of dignity, but of existence; in +robbing my love of its innocency, you would rob me of life; when you +thought to embrace happiness, you would clasp only death in your arms; +I am but a shade, and in one sigh I may exhale my soul!..." + +We remained silent for some time. At last, with a deep-drawn sigh, I +said, "I understand you, and in my heart I had sworn the eternal +innocency of my love, before you had done speaking, or required it of +me." + + + + +XXII. + + +My resigned tone seemed to delight her, and to redouble the confiding +charm of her manner. Night had spread over all, the stars glassed +themselves in the lake, and the silence of Nature lulled the earth to +rest. The winds, the trees and waves were hushed, to let us listen to +all the fugitive impressions of feeling and of thought that whisper in +the hearts of the happy. The boatmen sang snatches of their drawling +and monotonous chants, which seem like the noted modulations of the +waves on the shore. I was reminded of her voice, which seemed ever to +sound in my ear, and I exclaimed, "Oh, that you would mark this +enchanting night for me, by some sweet tones addressed to these winds +and waves, so that they may be forever full of you!" I made a sign to +the boatmen to be silent, and to stifle the sound of their oars, from +which the drops came trickling back into the lake like a musical +accompaniment of silvery notes. She sang a Scotch ballad, half naval +and half pastoral, in which a young girl, whose sailor lover has left +her to seek wealth beyond the seas, relates how her parents, wearied of +waiting his return, had induced her to marry an old man, with whom she +might have been happy, but for the remembrance of her early love. The +ballad begins thus: + + "When the sheep are in the fauld and the ky at hame, + And a' the weary warld to rest are gane, + The waes of my heart fa' in showers frae my e'e, + While my gude-man lies sound by me." + + +After each verse there is a long revery, sung in vague notes, without +words, which lulls the heart with unspeakable melancholy, and brings +tears into the eyes and voice. Each succeeding verse takes up the story +in the dull and distant tone of memory, weeping, regretting, yet +resigned. If the Greek strophes of Sappho are the very fire of love, +these Scotch notes are the very life's blood and tears of a heart +stricken to death by Fate. I know not who wrote the music, but whoever +he may be, thanks be to him for having found in a few notes, and in the +mournful melody of a voice, the expression of infinite human sadness. I +have never since then heard the first measures of that air without +flying from it as one pursued by a spirit; and when I wish to soften my +heart by a tear, I sing within myself the plaintive burden of that +song, and feel ready to weep,--I, who never weep! + + + + +XXIII. + + +We reached the little mole that stretches out into the lake where the +boats are moored; it is the harbor of Aix, and is situated at about +half a league from the town. It was midnight, and there were no longer +any carriages or donkeys on the pier to convey strangers to the town. +The distance was too great for a delicate suffering woman to walk, and +after knocking fruitlessly at the doors of one or two cottages in the +vicinity of the lake, the boatmen proposed carrying the lady to Aix. +They cheerfully slipped their oars from the rings which fastened them +to the boat, and tied them together with the ropes of their nets; then +they placed one of the cushions of the boat on these ropes, and thus +formed a soft and flexible kind of litter for the stranger. Four of +them then took up the oars, and each placing one end on his shoulder, +they set off with the palanquin, to which they imparted no other motion +than that of their steps. I would have wished to have my share in the +pleasure of bearing their precious burden, but was repulsed by them +with jealous eagerness. I walked beside the litter with my right hand +in hers, so that she might cling to me when the movement of her +conveyance was too rough. I thus prevented her slipping off the narrow +cushion on which she was stretched. We walked in this manner slowly and +silently in the moonlight down the long avenue of poplars. Oh, how +short that avenue seemed to me, and how I wished that it could have led +us on thus to the last step of both our lives! She did not speak, and I +said nothing, but I felt the whole weight of her body trustingly +suspended to my arm; I felt both her cold hands clasp mine, and from +time to time an involuntary pressure, or a warmer breath upon them, +made me feel that she had approached her lips to my hand to warm it. +Never was silence so eloquent in its mute revealings. We enjoyed the +happiness of a century in one hour. By the time we arrived at the old +doctor's house, and had deposited the invalid at her chamber door, the +whole world that lay between us had disappeared. My hand was wet with +her tears; I dried them with my lips, and threw myself without +undressing on my bed. + + + + +XXIV. + + +In vain I tossed and turned on my pillow; I could not sleep. The +thousand impressions of the preceding days were traced so vividly on my +mind that I could not believe they were past, and I seemed to hear and +see over again all I had seen or heard the previous day. The fever of +my soul had extended to my body. I rose and laid down again without +finding repose. At last I gave it up. I tried by bodily motion to calm +the agitation of my mind; I opened the window, turned over the leaves +of books which I did not understand as I read them, paced up and down, +and changed the position of my table and my chair a dozen times, +without finding a place where I could bear to spend the night. All this +noise was heard in the adjoining room; and my steps disturbed the poor +invalid, who, doubtless, was as wakeful as I was. I heard a light step +on the creaking floor approach the bolted oak door which separated her +sitting-room from my bedroom; I listened with my ear close to the door, +and heard a suppressed breathing, and the rustle of a silk gown against +the wall. The light of a lamp shone through the chinks of the door, and +streamed from beneath it on my floor. It was she! she was there +listening too, with her ear perhaps close to my brow; she might have +heard my heart beat. "Are you ill?" whispered a voice, which I should +have recognized by a single sigh. "No," I answered, "but I am too +happy! Excess of joy is as exciting as excess of anguish. The fever I +feel is one of life; I do not wish to dispel it, or to fly from it, but +I am sitting up to enjoy it." "Child that you are!" she said, "go and +sleep while I watch; it is now my turn to watch over you." "But you," +whispered I, "why are you not sleeping?" "I never wish to sleep more," +she replied; "I would not lose one minute of the consciousness of my +overwhelming bliss. I have but little time in which to enjoy my +happiness, and do not like to give any portion of it to forgetfulness +in sleep. I came to sit here in the hopes of hearing you, or at any +rate to feel nearer to you." "Oh, why still so far?" I murmured. "Why +so far? Why is this wall between us?" "Is there only this door between +us then," she said, "and not our will and our vow? There! if you are +only restrained by this material obstacle, it is removed!" and I heard +her withdraw the bolt on her side. "Yes," she continued, "if there be +not in you some feeling stronger than love itself to subdue and master +your passion, you can pass. Yes," she added with an accent at once more +solemn and more impassioned, "I will owe nothing but to yourself,--you +may pass; you will meet with love equal to your own, but such love +would be my death...." + +I was overcome by the violence of my feelings, the impetuous impulse of +my heart that impelled me towards that voice, and the moral violence +that repulsed me; and I fell as one mortally wounded on the threshold +of that closed door. As to her, I heard her sit down on a cushion which +she had taken from a sofa, and thrown on the floor. During the greater +part of the night we continued to converse in a low tone, through the +intervals between the floor and the rough wood-work of the door. Who +can describe the outpourings of our hearts, the words unused in the +ordinary language of men that seemed to be wafted like night-dreams +between heaven and earth, and were interrupted by silence in which our +hearts and not our lips communed revealed their unutterable thoughts? +At length the intervals of silence became longer, the voices grew +faster and, overcome with fatigue, I fell asleep, with my hand clasped +on my knees, and my cheek leaning against the wall. + + + + +XXV. + + +The sun was already high in the heavens when I woke, and my room was +flooded with light. The redbreasts were chirping and pecking at the +vines and currant bushes beneath my windows; all nature seemed to be +illumined and adorned and to have awakened before me, to usher in and +welcome this first day of my new life. All the sounds and noises in the +house seemed joyful as I was. I heard the light steps of the maid who +went and came in the passage to carry breakfast to her mistress, the +childish voices of the little girls of the mountains who brought +flowers from the edge of the glaciers, and the tinkling bells and +stamping hoofs of the mules which were waiting in the yard to carry her +to the lake or to the mountain. I changed my soiled and dusty clothes, +I bathed my red and swollen eyes, smoothed my disordered hair, put on +my leather gaiters, like a chamois hunter of the Alps, and taking my +gun in hand, I went down to join the old doctor and his family at the +breakfast-table. + +At breakfast they talked of the storm on the lake, of the danger in +which the stranger had been, her fainting at Haute-Combe, her absence +during two days, and my good fortune in having met with her and brought +her home. I begged the doctor to request for me the favor of inquiring +in person after her health, and accompanying her in her excursions. He +came down again with her; she looked lovelier and more interesting than +ever, and happiness seemed to have given her fresh youth. She enchanted +every one, but she looked only at me. I alone understood her looks and +words with their double meaning. The guides lifted her joyfully on the +seat with the swinging foot-board, which serves as a saddle for the +women of Savoy; and I walked beside the mule with the tinkling bells +which was that day to carry her to the highest chalets of the mountain. + +We passed the whole day there, but we scarcely spoke, so well did we +already understand each other without words. Sometimes we stood +contemplating the cheerful valley of Chambery which appeared to widen +as we mounted higher; or we loitered on the edge of cascades, whose +sun-tinted vapors enveloped us in watery rainbows that seemed to be the +mysterious halo of our love; or we would gather the latest flowers of +earth on the sloping meadows before the chalets, and exchange them +between us, as the letters of the fragrant alphabet of Nature, +intelligible to us alone; or we gathered chestnuts which we brought +home to roast at night by her fire; or we sat under shelter of the +highest chalets which were already abandoned by their owners, and +thought how happy two beings like ourselves might be, confined by fate +to one of these deserted huts, made from rough boards and trunks of +trees,--so near the stars, so near the murmuring winds, the snows and +glaciers, but divided from man by solitude, and sufficing to each other +during a life filled with one thought and but one feeling! + + + + +XXVI. + + +In the evening we came down slowly from the mountain with saddened +looks, as though we had been leaving our domains and happiness behind +us. She retired to her apartment, and I remained below to sup with our +host and his guests. After supper I knocked, as had been agreed upon, +at her door; she received me as she might a friend of childhood after a +long absence. Henceforward I spent all my days and all my evenings in +the same manner; I generally found her reclining on a sofa with a white +cover, which was placed in a corner between the fireplace and the +window; upon a small table on which stood a brass lamp there were some +books, the letters she had received or commenced during the day, a +little common tea-pot,--which she gave me when she went away, and which +has always stood upon my chimney since,--and two cups of blue and pink +china, in which we used to take tea at midnight. The old doctor would +sometimes go up with me, to chat with his fair patient; but after half +an hour's conversation, the good old man would find out that my +presence went further than his advice or his baths to re-establish the +health that was so precious to us all, and would leave us to our books +and conversation. At midnight, I kissed the hand she extended to me +across the table, and went to my own room; but I never retired to rest +until all was silent in hers. + + + + +XXVII. + + +We led this delightful, twofold life during six long or short weeks; +long, when I call to mind the numberless palpitations of joy in our +hearts, but short, when I remember the imperceptible rapidity of the +hours that filled them. By a miracle of Providence, which does not +occur once in ten years, the season seemed to connive at our happiness, +and to conspire with us to prolong it. The whole month of October, and +half of November, seemed like a new but leafless spring; the air was +still soft, the waters blue, the clouds were rosy, and the sun shone +brightly. The days were shorter, it is true, but the long evenings +spent beside her fire drew us closer together; they made us more +exclusively present to each other, and prevented our looks and hearts +from evaporating amid the splendor of external nature. We loved them +better than the long summer days. Our light was within us, and it shone +more brightly when we confined ourselves to the house during the long +darkness of November evenings, with the moaning of the autumnal winds +around us, and the first rattling of the sleet and hail against the +windows. The wintry rain seemed to throw us back upon ourselves, and to +cry aloud: Hasten to say all that is yet untold in your hearts, and all +that must be spoken before man and woman die, for I am the voice of the +evil days that are near at hand to part you! + + + + +XXVIII. + + +We visited together, in succession, every creek and cove, or sandy +beach of the lake, every mountain pass or ridge; every grotto or remote +valley; every cascade hidden among the rocks of Savoy. We saw more +sublime or smiling landscapes, more mysterious solitudes, more +enchanted deserts, more cottages hanging on the mountain brow half-way +between the clouds and the abyss, more foaming waters in the sloping +meadows, more forests of dark pines disclosing their gloomy colonnades +and echoing our steps beneath their domes, than might have hidden a +whole world of lovers. To each of these we gave a sigh, a rapture, or a +blessing; we implored them to preserve the memory of the hours we had +passed together, of the thoughts they had inspired, the air they had +given us, the drop of water we had drunk in the hollow of our hands, +the leaf or flower we had gathered, the print of our footsteps on the +dewy grass, and to give them back to us one day with the particle of +existence that we had left there as we passed; so that nought might be +lost of the bliss that overflowed within us, and that we might receive +back each minute of ecstasy, or emanation of ourselves, in that +faithful treasure house of Eternity, where nothing is lost, not even +the breath we have just exhaled, or the minute we think we have lost. +Never, perhaps, since the creation of these lakes, these torrents, and +these rocks, did such tender and fervent hymns ascend from these +mountains to Heaven! There was in our souls life and love enough to +animate all nature, earth, air, and water, rocks and trees, cedar and +hyssop, and to make them give forth sighs, aspirations, voice, perfume, +and flame enough to fill the whole sanctuary of Nature, even if more +vast and mute than the desert in which we wandered. Had a globe been +created for ourselves alone, we alone would have sufficed to people and +to quicken it, to give it voice and language, praise and love for all +eternity! And who shall say that the human soul is not infinite? Who, +beside the woman he adores, before the face of Nature, and beneath the +eye of God, e'er felt the limits of existence, or of his power of life +and love? O Love! the base may fear thee, and the wicked proscribe +thee! Thou art the high priest of this world, the revealer of +Immortality, the fire of the altar; and without thy ray man would not +even dimly comprehend Eternity! + + + + +XXIX. + + +These six weeks were to me as a baptism of fire which transfigured my +soul, and cleansed it of all the impurities with which it had been +stained. Love was the torch which, while it fired my heart, enlightened +all nature, heaven, and earth, and showed me to myself. I understood +the nothingness of this world when I felt how it vanished before a +single spark of true life. I loathed myself as I looked back into the +past, and compared it with the purity and perfection of the one I +loved. I entered into the heaven of my soul, as my heart and eyes +fathomed the ocean of beauty, tenderness, and purity which expanded +hourly in the eyes, in the voice, and in the discourse, of the heavenly +creature who had manifested herself to me. How often did I kneel before +her, my head bowed to the earth in the attitude and with the feeling of +adoration! How often did I beseech her, as I would a being of another +order, to cleanse me in her tears, absorb me in her flame, or to inhale +me in her breath,--so that nothing of myself should be left in me, save +the purifying water with which she had cleansed me, the flame that had +consumed me, or the new breath that she had infused into my new being; +so that I might become her, or she might become me, and that God +himself in calling us to him should not distinguish or divide what the +miracle of love had transformed and mingled!... Oh, if you have a +brother or a son, who has never understood virtue, pray that he may +love as I did! As long as he loves thus, he will be capable of every +sacrifice or heroic devotion to equal the ideal of his love; and when +he no longer loves, he will still retain in his soul a remembrance of +celestial delights, which will make him turn with disgust from the +waters of vice, and his eye will be often secretly uplifted towards the +pure spring at which he once knelt to drink. I cannot tell the feeling +of salutary shame which oppressed me in the presence of the one I +loved; but her reproaches were so tender, her looks so gentle, though +penetrating, her pardon so divine, that in humbling myself before her I +did not feel myself abased, but rather raised and dignified. I almost +mistook for my own and inward light, what was only the reverberation in +me of her splendor and purity. Involuntarily I compared her to all the +other women I had approached, except Antonina, who appeared to me like +Julie in her artless infancy; and save my mother, whom she resembled in +her virtue and maturity, no woman in my eyes could bear the slightest +comparison. A single look of hers seemed to throw all my past life into +shade. Her discourse revealed to me depths of feelings and refinements +of passion, which transported me into unknown regions, where I seemed +to breathe for the first time the native air of my own thoughts. All +the levity, fickleness, and vanity, the aridity, irony, and bitterness, +of the evil days of my youth, disappeared, and I scarcely recognized +myself. When I left her presence I felt myself good, and thought myself +pure. Once more I felt enthusiasm, prayer, inward piety, and the warm +tears which flow not from the eyes, but well out like a secret spring +from beneath our apparent aridity, and cleanse the heart without +enervating it. I vowed never to descend from the celestial but by no +means giddy heights to which I had been raised by her tender +reproaches, her voice, her single presence. It was as a second +innocence of my soul, imparted by the rays of the eternal innocence of +her love. + +I could not say whether there was most piety, or fascination in the +impression I received, so much did passion and adoration mingle in +equal portions, and in my thoughts change, a thousand times in one +minute, love into worship, or worship into love. Oh, is not that the +height, the very pinnacle of love,--enthusiasm in the possession of +perfect beauty, and rapture in supreme adoration?... All she had said +seemed to me eternal; all she had looked on appeared to me sacred. I +envied the earth on which she had trodden; the sunshine which had +enveloped her during our walks appeared to me happy to have touched +her. I would have wished to abstract and separate forever from the +liquid plains of air, the air that she had sanctified in breathing it; +I would have enclosed the empty place that she had just ceased to fill +in space, so that no inferior creature should occupy it, so long as the +world should last. In a word, I saw and felt, I worshipped God himself, +through the medium of my love. If life were to last in such a condition +of the soul, Nature would stand still, the blood would cease to +circulate, the heart forget to beat, or rather, there would be neither +motion, precipitation, nor lassitude, neither life, nor death, in our +senses; there would be only one endless and living absorption of our +being in another's, such as must be the state of the soul at once +annihilated and living in God. + + + + +XXX. + + +Oh, joy! the vile desires of sensual passion were annulled (as she had +wished) in the full possession of each other's soul, and happiness, as +happiness ever does, made me feel better and more pious than I had ever +been. God and my love were so mingled in my heart, that my adoration of +her became a perpetual adoration of the Supreme Being who had created +her. During the day, when we loitered on the sloping hills or on the +borders of the lake, or sat on the root of some tree in a sunny lawn, +to rest, to gaze, and to admire, our conversation would often, from the +natural overflowing of two full hearts, tend towards that fathomless +abyss of all thought,--the Infinite! and towards Him who alone can fill +infinite space,--God! When I pronounced this last word, with the +heartfelt gratitude which reveals so much in one single accent, I was +surprised to see her averted looks, or remark on her brow and in the +corners of her mouth a trace of sad and painful incredulity, which +seemed to me in contradiction with our enthusiasm. One day, I asked +her, timidly, the reason. "It is that that word gives me pain," she +answered. "And how," said I, "how can the word that comprehends all +life, all love, and all goodness give pain to the most perfect of God's +creations?" "Alas!" she said with the tone of a despairing soul, "that +word represents the idea of a Being, whose existence I have +passionately desired might not be a dream; and yet that Being," she +added in a low and mournful tone, "in my eyes, and in those of the +sages whose lessons I have received, is but the most marvellous and +unreal delusion of our thoughts." "What!" said I, "your teachers do not +believe there is a God? But you, who love, how can you disbelieve? Does +not every throb of our hearts proclaim Him?" "Oh," she answered +hastily, "do not interpret as folly the wisdom of those men who have +uplifted for me the veils of philosophy, and have caused the broad day +of reason and of science to shine before my eyes, instead of the pale +and glimmering lamp with which Superstition lights the voluntary +darkness, that she wilfully casts around her childish divinity. It is +in the God of your mother and my nurse that I no longer believe, and +not the God of Nature and of Science. I believe in a Being who is the +Principle and Cause, spring and end of all other beings, or rather, who +is himself the eternity, form, and law of all those beings, visible or +invisible, intelligent or unintelligent, animate or inanimate, quick or +dead, of which is composed the only real name of this Being of beings, +the Infinite. But the idea of the incommensurable greatness, the +sovereign fatality, the inflexible and absolute necessity of all the +acts of this Being, whom you call God and we term Law, excludes from +our thoughts all precise intelligibility, exact denomination, +reasonable imagining, personal manifestation, revelation, or +incarnation, and the idea of any possible relation between that Being +and ourselves, even of homage and of prayer. Wherefore should the +Consequence pray to the Cause? + +"It is a cruel thought," she added; "for how many blessings, prayers, +and tears I should have poured out at His feet since I have loved you! +But," she resumed, "I surprise and pain you; pray forgive me. Is not +truth the first of virtues, if virtue there be? On this single point we +cannot agree; let us never speak of it. You have been brought up by a +pious mother, in the midst of a Christian family, and have inhaled with +your first breath the holy credulity of your home. You have been led by +the hand into the temples; you have been shown images, mysteries, and +altars; you have been taught prayers and told, God is here, who listens +and will answer you; and you believed, for you were not of an age to +inquire. Since then, you have discarded these baubles of your +childhood, to conceive a less feminine and less puerile God, than this +God of the Christian tabernacles; but the first dazzling glare has not +departed from your eyes; the real light that you have thought to see +has been blended, unknown to yourself, with that false brightness which +fascinated you on your entrance into life; you have retained two +weaknesses of intelligence,--mystery and prayer. There is no mystery" +she said, in a more solemn tone; "there is only reason, which dispels +all mystery! It is man, crafty or credulous man, who invented +mystery,--God made reason! And prayer does not exist," she continued +mournfully, "for an inflexible law will not relent, and a necessary law +cannot be changed. + +"The ancients, with that profound wisdom which was often hidden beneath +their popular ignorance, knew that full well," she added; "for they +prayed to all the gods of their invention, but they never implored the +supreme law,--Destiny." + +She was silent. "It appears to me," I said after a long pause, "that +the teachers who have instilled their wisdom into you have too much +subordinated the feeling to the reasoning Being, in their theory of the +relation of God to man; in a word, they have overlooked the heart in +man,--the heart which is the organ of love, as intelligence is the +organ of thought. The imaginings of man in respect of God may be +puerile and mistaken, but his instincts, which are his unwritten law, +must be sometimes right; if not, Nature would have lied in creating +him. You do not think Nature a lie," I said smiling,--"you, who said +just now that truth was perhaps the only virtue? Now, whatever may have +been the intention of God in giving those two instincts, mystery and +prayer, whether he meant thereby to show that he was the +incomprehensible God, and that his name was Mystery; or that he desired +that all creatures should give him honor and praise, and that prayer +should be the universal incense of nature,--it is most certain that +man, when he thinks on God, feels within him two instincts, mystery and +adoration. Reason's province," I pursued, "is to enlighten and disperse +mystery, more and more every day, but never to dispel it entirely. +Prayer is the natural desire of the heart to pour forth unceasingly its +supplications, efficacious or not, heard or unheard, as a precious +perfume on the feet of God. What matters it if the perfume fall to the +ground, or whether it anoint the feet of God? It is always a tribute of +weakness, humility, and adoration. + +"But who can say that it is ever lost?" I added in the tone of one +whose hopes triumph over his doubts; "who can say that prayer, the +mysterious communication with invisible Omnipotence, is not in reality +the greatest of all the natural or supernatural powers of man? Who can +say that the supreme and immortal Will has not ordained from all +eternity that prayer should be continually inspired and heard, and that +man should thus, by his invocations, participate in the ordering of his +own destiny? Who knows whether God, in his love, and perpetual blessing +on the beings which emanate from him, has not established this bond +with them, as the invisible chain which links the thoughts of all +worlds to his? Who knows but that, in his majestic solitude which he +peoples alone, he has willed that this living murmur, this continual +communing with nature, should ascend and descend continually in all +space from him to all the beings that he vivifies and loves, and from +those beings to him? At all events, prayer is the highest privilege of +man, since it allows him to speak to God. If God were deaf to our +prayers, we should still pray; for if in his majesty he would not hear +us, still prayer would dignify man." + +I saw that my reasonings touched without convincing her, and that the +springs of her soul, which science had dried up, had not yet flowed +towards God. But love was to soften her religion as it had softened her +heart; the delights and anguish of passion were soon to bring forth +adoration and prayer, those two perfumes of the souls that burn and +languish. The one is full of rapture; the other full of tears,--both +are divine! + + + + +XXXI. + + +In the meantime her health improved daily. Happiness, solitude with a +beloved companion (that paradise of tender souls), and the daily +discovery on her part of some new mystery of thought in me which +corresponded to her own nature; the autumnal air in the mountains, +which, like stoves heated during summer, preserve the warmth of the sun +until the winter snows; our distant excursions to the chalets, or on +the waters; the motion of the boat, or the gentle pace of the mules; +the milk brought frothing from the pastures in the wooden cups the +shepherds carve; and above all, the gentle excitement, the peaceful +revery, the continual infatuation of a heart which first love upheld as +with wings and led on from thought to thought, from dream to dream, +through a new-found heaven,--all seemed to contribute visibly to her +recovery. Every day seemed to bring fresh youth; it was as a +convalescence of the soul which showed itself on the features. Her +face, which had been at first slightly marked round the eyes with those +dark and bluish tints which seem like the impress of the fingers of +Death, gradually recovered the roundness of the cheek, the mantling +blood, the soft down, and blooming complexion of a young girl who has +been on the mountains, and whose cheek has been visited by the first +cold bracing winds from the glaciers. Her lips had recovered their +fulness, her eyes their brightness; the lid no longer drooped, and the +eye itself seemed to swim in that continual and luminous mist which +rises like a vapor from the burning heart, and is condensed into tears +on the eye, whose fire absorbs these tears, that always rise, and never +flow. There was more strength in her attitudes, more pliancy in her +movements; her step was light and lively as a child's. Whenever we +entered the yard of the house on our return from our rambles, the old +doctor and his family would express their surprise at the prodigious +change that a day had wrought in her appearance, and wonder at the life +and light that she seemed to shed around her. + +In truth, happiness seemed to encompass her with a radiant atmosphere, +in which she not only walked herself, but enveloped all those who +looked upon her. This radiance of beauty, this atmosphere of love, are +not, as many think, only the fancies of a poet; the poet merely sees +more distinctly what escapes the blind or indifferent eye of other men. +It has often been said of a lovely woman, that she illumines the +darkness of night; it might be said of Julie that she warmed the +surrounding air. I lived and moved, enveloped in this warm emanation of +her reviving beauty; others but felt it as they passed. + + + + +XXXII. + + +When I was obliged to leave her for a short time, and returned to my +room, I felt, even at mid-day, as if I had been immured in a dungeon +without air or light. The brightest sun afforded me no light, unless +its rays were reflected by her eyes. I admired her more, the more I saw +her; and could not believe she was a being of the same order as myself. +The divine nature of her love had become a part of the creed of my +imagination; and in spirit I was ever prostrate before the being who +appeared to me too tender to be a divinity--too divine to be a woman! I +sought a name for her, and found none. I called her Mystery, and under +that vague and indefinite title, offered her worship which partook of +earth by its tenderness, of a dream by its enthusiasm, of reality by +her presence, and of heaven by my adoration. + +She had obliged me to confess that I had sometimes written verses, but +I had never shown her any. She did not much like that artificial and +set form of speech, which, when it does not idealize, generally impairs +the simplicity of feeling and expression. Her nature was too full of +impulse, too feeling, and too serious, to bend itself to all the +precision, form, and delay of written poetry. She was Poetry without a +lyre--true as the heart, simple as the untutored thought, dreamy as +night, brilliant as day, swift as lightning, boundless as space! No +rules of harmony could have bounded the infinite music of her mind; her +very voice was a perpetual melody, that no cadence of verse could have +equalled. Had I lived long with her, I should never have read or +written poetry. She was the living poem of Nature and of myself; my +thoughts were in her heart, my imagery in her eyes, and my harmony in +her voice. + +She had in her room a few volumes of the principal poets of the end of +the eighteenth century, and of the Empire, such as Delille and +Fontanes; but their high-sounding and material poetry was not suited to +us. She had been lulled by the melodious murmur of the waves of the +tropic, and her soul contained treasures of love, imagination, and +melancholy, which all the voices of the air and waters could not have +expressed. She would sometimes attempt with me to read these books, on +the strength of their reputation, but would throw them down again +impatiently; they gave no sound beneath her touch, like those broken +chords which remain voiceless when we strike the keys. The music of her +heart was in mine, but I could never give it forth to the world; and +the verses she was one day to inspire were destined to sound only on +her grave. She never knew before she died whom she had loved. In her +eyes I was her brother, and it would have mattered little to her that I +had been a poet for the rest of the world. Her love saw nothing in me +but myself. + +Only once I involuntarily betrayed before her the poor gift of poetry +that I possessed, and which she neither suspected nor desired in me. My +friend Louis--had come to stay a few days with us. The evening had been +spent till midnight in reading, in confidential talk, in musing, in +sadness, and in smiles. We wondered to see three young lives, which a +short time before were unknown to each other, now united and identified +beneath the same roof, at the same fireside, with the same murmur of +autumnal winds around, in a cottage of the mountains of Savoy; we +strove to foresee by what sport of Providence, or Chance, the stormy +winds of life might scatter or reunite us once more. These distant +vistas of the horizon of our future lives had saddened us, and we +remained silent round the little tea-table on which we were leaning. At +last Louis, who was a poet, felt a mournful inspiration rising in his +heart, and wished to write it down. She gave him paper and a pencil, +and he leaned on the marble chimney-piece and wrote a few stanzas, +plaintive and tearful as the funeral strophes of Gilbert. He resembled +Gilbert, and he might have written those lines of his, which will live +as long as the lamentations of Job, in the language of men: + + Au banquet de la vie, infortuné convive, + J'apparus un jour et je meurs; + Je meurs, et sur ma tombe, où lentement j'arrive, + Nul ne viendra verser des pleurs! + +Louis's verses had affected me; I took the pencil from him, and, +withdrawing for an instant to the end of the room, I wrote in my turn +the following verses, which will die with me unknown to all; they were +the first verses that sprung from my heart, and not from my +imagination. I read them out without daring to raise my eyes to her, to +whom they were addressed. They ran thus-- + + * * * * * + +but, no! I efface them! My love was all my genius, and they have +departed together. + +As I finished reading the verses, I saw on Julie's face, on which the +light of the lamp fell, such a tender expression of surprise and such +superhuman beauty, that I stood uncertain, as my verses had expressed +it, between the woman and the angel,--between love and adoration. This +latter feeling predominated at last in my heart, and in that of my +friend. We fell on our knees before the sofa, and kissed the end of the +black shawl which enveloped her feet. The verses seemed to her merely +an instantaneous and solitary expression of my feelings towards her; +she praised them, but never mentioned them again. She much preferred +our familiar discourse, or even our pensive silence in each other's +company, to these exercises of the mind which profane our feelings +rather than reveal them, Louis left us after a few days. + + + + +XXXIII. + + +In consequence of these first verses of mine, which were but one feeble +strophe of the perpetual hymn of my heart, she requested me to write an +ode for her, which she would address as a tribute of admiration, and as +a specimen of my talents, to one of the men of her Paris acquaintance, +for whom she felt the greatest respect and attachment, M. de Bonald. I +knew nothing of him but his name, and the well-deserved renown that +attached to it as that of a Christian, a philosopher, and a legislator. +I fancied that I was to address a modern Moses, who derived from the +rays of another Mount Sinai the divine light which he shed upon human +laws. I wrote the ode in one night, and read it the next morning, +beneath a spreading chestnut-tree, to her who had inspired it. She made +me read it three times over, and in the evening she copied it with her +light and steady hand. Her writing flew upon the paper like the shadow +of the wings of thought, with the swiftness, elegance, and freedom of a +bird on the wing. The next day she sent it to Paris. M. de Bonald +replied by many obliging auguries respecting my talents. This was the +beginning of my acquaintance with that most excellent man, whose +character I have always admired and loved since, without sharing his +theocratical doctrines. My approval of his creed, of which I knew +nothing, was at that time a concession to my love; at a later period it +would have been an homage rendered to his virtues. M. de Bonald was, +like M. de Maistre, a prophet of the past, one of those men whose ideas +were of bygone days, and to whom we bow with veneration, as we see them +seated on the threshold of futurity; they will not pass onward, but +tarry to listen to the sublime lament of all that dies in the human +mind. + + + + +XXXIV. + + +Autumn was already gone; but the sun shone out now and then between the +clouds and lighted and warmed the mild winter which had succeeded. We +tried to deceive ourselves, and to say that it was still autumn, so +much did we dread to recognize winter, that was to separate us. The +snow sometimes fell in the morning in light flakes on the roses and +everlastings in the garden, like the white down of the swans which we +often saw traversing the air. At noon the snow melted, and then there +were delightful hours on the lake. The last rays of the sun seemed to +be warmer when they played on the waters. The fig-trees which hung from +the rocks exposed to the south, in the sheltered coves, had kept their +wide-spreading leaves; and the reflection of the sun on the rocks +imparted to them the splendid coloring and the warmth of summer +evenings. But these hours glided as swiftly by as the stroke of the +oars which served to take us round the foam-covered rocks that form the +southern border of the lake. The glancing rays of the sun on the +fire-trees; the green moss; the winter birds, more fully feathered and +more familiar than those of summer; the mountain streams, whose white +and frothing waters dashed down the sides of the sloping meadows, and +meeting in some ravine fell with sonorous and splashing murmurs from +the black and shining rocks into the lake; the cadenced sound of the +oar, which seemed to accompany us with its mysterious and plaintive +regrets, like some friendly voice hidden beneath the waters; the +perfect repose we felt in this warm and luminous atmosphere, so near +each other, and separated from the world by an abyss of waters,--gave +us at times so great an enjoyment in the sense of existence, such +fulness of inward joy, such an overflowing of peace and love, that we +might have defied Heaven itself to add to our felicity. But with this +happiness was mixed the consciousness that it was soon to end; each +stroke of the oar resounded in our hearts as one step of the day that +brought us nearer to separation. Who knows whether these trembling +leaves may not to-morrow have fallen in the waters? If this moss on +which we still can sit may not to-morrow be covered with a thick mantle +of snow; if this blue sky, these illumined rocks and sparkling waves, +may not, during the mists of this next night, be enveloped and +confounded in one dim and wintry ocean? + +A long sigh would escape our lips at thoughts like these; but we never +communicated them to each other, for fear of arousing misfortune by +naming it. Oh, who, in the course of his life, has not felt some joy +without security and without a morrow; when life seems concentrated in +one short hour which we would wish to make eternal, and which we feel +slipping away minute by minute, while we listen to the pendulum which +counts the seconds, or look at the hand that seems to gallop o'er the +dial, or watch a carriage-wheel, of which each turn abridges distance, +or hearken to the splashing of a prow that distances the waves, and +brings us nearer to the shore where we must descend from the heaven of +our dreams on the bleak and barren strand of harsh reality. + + + + +XXXV. + + +[Illustration: THE LOVERS' COMPACT.] + + +One sunny evening when our boat lay in a calm and sheltered creek, +formed by the Mont du Chat, and we were delightfully lulled by the +distant sound of a cascade which perpetually murmurs in the grottos +through which it filtrates before losing itself in the abyss of water, +our boatmen landed to draw some nets they had set the day before. We +remained alone in the boat which was moored to the branch of a fig-tree +by a slender rope; the motion of the boat caused the branch to bend and +break without our being aware of it, and we drifted out to the middle +of the bay, nearly three hundred yards from the perpendicular rocks +with which it is surrounded. The waters of the lake in this part were +of that bronzed color and had that molten appearance and look of heavy +immobility which the shade of overhanging cliffs always gives; and the +perpendicular rocks which surrounded it indicated the unfathomable +depth of its waters. I might have taken up the oars and returned to +shore, but we felt a thrill of pleasure at our loneliness and the +absence of any form of living nature. We would have wished to wander +thus on a boundless firmament, instead of on a sea with shores. We no +longer heard the voices of the boatmen who had gone along the Savoy +shore, and were now hidden from our view by some projecting rocks; we +only heard the distant trickling of the cascade, the harmonious sighs +of the pines when some playful breeze swept for an instant through the +still and heavy air, and the low ripple of the water against the sides +of the boat which gently undulated at our slightest movement. + +Our boat lay half in shade and half in sunshine,--the head in sunshine, +and the stern in shade. I was sitting at Julie's feet in the bottom of +the boat, as on the first day when I brought her back from Haute-Combe. +We took delight in calling to remembrance every circumstance of that +first day, that mysterious era from which the world commenced for +us,--for that day was the date of our meeting and of our love! She was +half reclining with one arm hanging over the side of the boat, the +other leaned upon my shoulder, and her hand played with a lock of my +long hair; my head was thrown back, so that I could only see the +heavens above and her face, which stood out on the blue background of +the sky. She bent over me, as if to contemplate her sun on my brow, her +light in my eyes; an expression of deep, calm, and ineffable happiness +was diffused over her features, and gave to her beauty a radiance and +splendor which was in harmony with the surrounding glory of the sky. +Suddenly I saw her turn pale and withdraw her arms from the side of the +boat and from my shoulder; she started up as if awaked from sleep, +covered for one instant her face with her two hands, and remained in +deep and silent thought; then withdrawing her hands, which were wet +with tears, she said, in a tone of calm and serene determination, "Oh, +let us die! ..." + +After these words she remained silent for an instant, then resumed: +"Yes, let us die, for earth has nothing more to give, and Heaven +nothing more to promise!" She gazed at the sky and mountain, the lake +and its translucid waves around us. "Seest thou," she said (it was the +first and the last time that she ever used that form of speech which is +tender or solemn, according as we address God or man),--"seest thou +that all is ready around us for the blessed close of our two lives? +Seest thou the sun of the brightest of our days which sets, not to rise +for us perhaps to-morrow? Seest thou the mountains glass themselves for +the last time in the lake? They stretch out their long shadows towards +us, as if to say, Wrap yourselves in this shroud which I extend towards +you! See! the deep and clear, the silent waves have prepared for us a +sandy couch from which no man shall wake us and tell us to be gone! No +human eye can see us. None will know from what mysterious cause the +empty bark has been washed ashore upon some rock. No ripple on these +waters will betray to the curious or the indifferent the spot where our +two bodies slid beneath the wave, in one embrace; where our two souls +rose mingled in the surrounding ether; no sound of earth will follow +us, but the slight ripple of the closing wave!... Oh, let us die in +this delight of soul, and feel of death only its entrancing joy. One +day we shall wish to die, and we shall die less happy. I am a few years +older than you, and this difference which is unfelt now will increase +with time. The little beauty which has attracted you will early fade, +and you will only recall with wonder the memory of your departed +enthusiasm. Besides, I am to you but as a spirit; ... you will seek +another happiness; ... I should die of jealousy if you found it with +another, ... and I should die of grief, if I saw you unhappy through +me!... Oh, let us die, let us die! Let us efface the dark or doubtful +future with one last sigh, which will only leave on our lips the +unallayed taste of complete felicity." + +At the same moment my heart spoke to me as forcibly as she did, and +said what her voice said to my ear, what her looks said to my eyes, +what solemn, mute, funereal Nature in the splendor of her last hour, +said to all my senses. The two voices that I heard, the inward and the +outer voice, said the same words, as if one had been the echo or +translation of the other. I forgot the universe, and I answered, "Let +us die!" + + * * * * * + +I wound the fisherman's ropes which I found in the boat several times +round her body and mine, which were bound as in the same winding sheet. +I took her up in my arms, which I had left disengaged in order to +precipitate her with me into the lake. + +At the very instant that I was taking the spring which would forever +have buried us in the waters, I saw her turn pale, her head drooped, +its lifeless weight sank upon my shoulder, and I felt her knees give +way beneath her body. Excessive emotion and the joy of dying together +had forestalled death. She had fainted in my arms. The idea of taking +advantage of her insensible state to hurry her, unknown to herself, and +perhaps against her will, into my grave, struck me with horror. I fell +back into the boat with my burden; I loosed the ropes that bound us, +and laid her on the seat; I dipped my hands into the lake and sprinkled +the cold drops of water on her lips and forehead. I know not how long +she remained thus without color, voice, or motion. When she first +opened her eyes and regained consciousness, night was coming on, and +the slow drift of the boat had carried us into the middle of the lake. + +"God wills it not," I said. "We live; what we thought the privilege of +our love was a double crime. Is there no one to whom we belong on +earth? No one in heaven?" I added looking upwards reverentially, as +though I had seen in the firmament the sovereign Judge and Lord of our +destinies. "Speak no more of it," she said in a low and hurried tone; +"never speak of it again! You have chosen that I should live; I will +live; my crime was not in dying, but in taking you with me!" There was +something of bitterness and tender reproach in her tone and in her +look. "It may be," said I, replying to her thoughts,--"it may be that +heaven itself has no such hours as those we have just passed; but life +has,--that is enough to make me love it." She soon recovered her bloom +and her serenity. I seized the oars, and slowly rowed back to the +little sandy beach, where we heard the voices of the boatmen, who had +lighted a fire beneath a projecting rock. We recrossed the lake, and +returned home silently and thoughtfully. + + + + +XXXVI. + + +In the evening, when I went into her room, I found her seated in tears +before her little table, where several open letters were lying +scattered among the tea things. "We had better have died at once, for +here is the lingering death of separation, which begins for me," she +said, pointing to some letters which bore the postmark of Paris and +Geneva. + +Her husband wrote that he began to be very anxious at her long absence +at a season of the year when the weather might become inclement from +day to day; that he felt himself gradually declining and that he wished +to embrace and bless her before he died. His mournful entreaties were +intermingled with many expressions of paternal fondness, and some +sportive allusions to the fair young brother, who made her forget her +other friends. The other letter was from the Genevese doctor, who was +to have come to take her back to Paris. He wrote to say that he was +obliged unexpectedly to leave home to attend a German prince who +required his care, and that he sent in his stead a respectable, +trustworthy man, who would accompany her to Paris and act as her +courier on the road. This man had arrived, and her departure was fixed +for the day after the morrow. + +Although this news had been long foreseen, it affected us as though it +had been quite unexpected. We passed a long evening and nearly half the +night in silence, leaning opposite to one another on the little table, +and neither daring to look at each other, or to speak, for fear of +bursting into tears. We strove to interrupt the speechless agony of our +hearts by a few unconnected words, but these were said in a deep and +hollow voice, which resounded in the room like tear-drops on a coffin. +I had instantly determined to go also. + + + + +XXXVII. + + +The next day was the eve of our separation. The morning, as if to mock +us, rose more bright and warm than in the fairest days of October. + +While the trunks were being packed, and the carriage got ready, we +started with the mules and guides. We visited both hill and valley, to +say farewell, and to make, as it were, a pilgrimage of love to all the +spots where we had first seen each other, then met and walked; where we +had sat, and talked, and loved, during the long and heavenly +intercourse between ourselves and lonely Nature. We began by the lovely +hill of Tresserves which rises like a verdant cliff between the valley +of Aix and the lake; its sides, that rise almost perpendicularly from +the water's edge, are covered with chestnut-trees, rivalling those of +Sicily, through their branches, which overhang the water, one sees +snatches of the blue lake or of the sky, according as one looks high or +low. It was on the velvet of the moss-covered roots of these noble +trees, which have seen successive generations of young men and women +pass like ants beneath their shade, that we in our contemplative hours +had dreamed our fairest dreams. From thence we descended by a steep +declivity to a small solitary chateau called Bon Port. This little +castle is so embosomed in the chestnut-trees of Tresserves on the land +side, and so well hidden on the water side in the deep windings of a +sheltered bay, that it is difficult to see it either from the mountain +or from the little sea of Bourget. A terrace with a few fig-trees +divides the château from the sandy beach, where the gentle waves +continually come rippling in, to lick the shore and murmuringly expire. +Oh, how we envied the fortunate possessors of this retreat unknown to +men, hidden in the trees and waters, and only visited by the birds of +the lake, the sunshine and the soft south wind. We blessed it a +thousand times in its repose, and prayed that it might shelter hearts +like ours. + + + + +XXXVIII. + + +From Bon Port we proceeded towards the high mountains which overlook +the valley between Chambéry and Geneva, going round by the northern +side of the hill of Tresserves. We saw once more the meadows, the +pastures, the cottages hidden beneath the walnut-trees, and the grassy +slopes, where the young heifers play, their little bell tinkles +continually, to give notice of their wandering march through the grass +to the shepherd, who tends them at a distance. We ascended to the +highest chalets; the winter wind had already scorched the tips of the +grass. We remembered the delightful hours we had spent there, the words +we had spoken, the fond delusion we had entertained of an entire +separation from the world, the sighs we had confided to the mountain +winds and rays to waft them to heaven. We recalled all our hours of +peace and happiness so swiftly flown, all our words, dreams, gestures, +looks and wishes, as one strips a dwelling that one leaves of all that +is most precious. We mentally buried all these treasures of memory and +hope within the walls of these wooden chalets which would remain closed +until the spring, to find them entire on our return, if ever we +returned. + + + + +XXXIX. + + +We came down by the wooded slopes to the foaming bed of a cascade. +There we saw a small funereal monument erected to the memory of a young +and lovely woman, Madame de Broc; she fell some years ago into this +whirl-pool, whose foaming waters gave up a long while after a part of +her white dress, and thus caused her body to be found in the deep +grotto in which it had been ingulfed. Lovers often come and visit this +watery tomb; their hearts feel heavy, and they draw closer to each +other as they think how their fragile felicity may be dashed to atoms +by one false step on the slippery rock. + +From this cascade, which bears the name of Madame de Broc, we walked in +silence towards the Château de Saint Innocent, from whence one commands +an extensive view of the whole lake. We got down from our mules beneath +the shade of some lofty oaks, which were interspersed here and there +with a few patches of heath. It was a lonely place at that time, but +since then a rich planter, on his return to his native land, has built +himself a country house, and planted a garden in these, his paternal +acres. Our mules were turned loose, and left to graze in the wood under +the care of the children who acted as our guides. We walked on alone +from tree to tree, from one glade to another on the narrow neck of +land, until we reached the extreme point, where we saw the shining +lake, and heard its splashing waters. This wood of Saint Innocent is a +promontory that stretches out into the lake at the wildest and most +lonely part of its shores; it ends in some rocks of gray granite, which +are sometimes washed by the foam of the wind-tossed waves, but are dry +and shining when the waters subside into repose. We sat down on two +stones close to each other. Before us, the dark pile of the Abbey of +Haute-Combe rose on the opposite shore of the lake. Our eyes were fixed +on a little white speck that seemed to shine at the foot of the gloomy +terraces of the monastery. It was the fisherman's house, where we had +been thrown together by the waves, and united forever by that chance +meeting; it was the room where we had spent that heavenly and yet +funereal night which had decided the fate of both our lives. "It was +there!" she said, stretching out her arm, and pointing to the bright +speck, which was scarcely visible in the distance and darkness of the +opposite shore. "Will there come a day and a place," she added +mournfully, "in which the memory of all we felt there during those +deathless hours will appear to you, in the remoteness of the past, but +as that little speck on the dark background of yonder shore?" + +I could not reply to these words; her tone, her doubts, the prospect of +death, inconstancy, and frailty, and the possibility of forgetfulness, +had struck me to the heart, and filled me with sad forebodings. I burst +into tears. I hid my face in my hands, and turned towards the evening +breeze, that it might dry my tears in my eyes; but she had seen them. + +"Raphael," she resumed with greater tenderness, "no, you will never +forget me. I know it, I feel it; but love is short, and life is slow. +You will live many years beyond me. You will drain all that is sweet, +or powerful, or bitter in the cup that Nature offers to the lips of +man. You will be a man! I know it by your sensibility, which is at once +manly and feminine. You will be a man to the full extent of all the +wretchedness and dignity of that name by which God has called one of +his strangest creatures! In one of your aspirations there is breath for +a thousand lives! You will live with all the energy and in the full +meaning of the word--life! I ..." she stopped for an instant, and +raised her eyes and arms to Heaven as if in thank fulness: "I--I have +lived!--I have lived enough," she resumed in a contented tone, "since I +have inhaled, to bear it forever within me, the spirit of the soul that +I waited for on earth, and which would vivify me even in death, from +whence you once recalled me.... I shall die young, and without regret +now, for I have drained at a single draught the life that you will not +exhaust before your dark hair has become as white as the spray that +dashes over your feet. + +"This sky, this lake, these shores, these mountains, have been the +scene of my only real life here below. Swear to me to blend so +completely in your remembrance this sky, this lake, these shores, these +mountains, with my memory, that their image and mine may henceforward +be inseparable for you; that this landscape in your eyes, and I in your +heart, may make but one ... so that," she added, "when you return after +long days, to see once more this lonely spot, to wander beneath these +trees, on the margin of these waves, to listen to the breeze and +murmuring winds, you may see me once more, as living, as present, and +as loving as I am here!..." + +She could say no more and burst into tears. Oh, how we wept! how long +we wept! The sound of our stifled sobs mingled with the sobbing of the +water on the sand. Our tears fell trickling in the water at our feet. +After a lapse of fifteen years, I cannot write it without tears, even +now. + +O man! fear not for thy affections, and feel no dread lest time should +efface them. There is neither to-day nor yesterday in the powerful +echoes of memory; there is only always. He who no longer feels has +never felt. There are two memories,--the memory of the senses, which +wears out with the senses, and in which perishable things decay; and +the memory of the soul, for which time does not exist, and which lives +over at the same instant every moment of its past and present +existence; it is a faculty of the soul, which, like the soul, enjoys +ubiquity, universality, and immortality of spirit. Fear not, ye who +love! Time has power over hours, none over the soul. + + + + +XL. + + +I strove to speak, but could not. My sobs spoke, and my tears promised. +We got up to join the muleteers, and returned at sunset by the long +avenue of leafless poplars, where we had passed before, when she held +my hand so long in the palanquin. As we went through the straggling +faubourg of cottages, at the entrance of the town, and crossed the +Place to enter the steep street of Aix, sad faces were seen greeting us +at the windows and at the doors; as kind souls watch the departure of +two belated swallows, who are the last to leave the walls which have +sheltered them. Poor women rose from the stone bench where they were +spinning before their houses; children left the goats and donkeys which +they were driving home; all came to address a word, a look, or even a +silent bow of recognition to the young lady, and the one they supposed +to be her brother. She was so beautiful, so gracious to all, so loved, +it seemed as though the last ray of the year was retiring from the +valley. + +When we had reached the top of the town, we got down from our mules and +dismissed the children. As we did not wish to lose an hour of this last +day that still shone on the rose-tinted snows of the Alps, we climbed +slowly, and alone, up a narrow path which leads to the garden terrace +of a house called the Maison Chevalier. From this terrace, which seems +like a platform erected in the centre of a panorama, the eye embraces +the town, the lake, the passes of the Rhône, and all the peaks of the +Alpine landscape. We sat down on the fallen trunk of a tree, and leaned +on the parapet wall of the terrace; we remained mute and motionless, +looking by turns at all the different spots, that for the last six +weeks had witnessed our looks and steps, our twofold dreams, and our +sighs. When all these had one by one faded away in the dim shade of +twilight; when there was only one corner of the horizon, to westward, +where a faint light remained,--we started up with one accord, and fled +precipitately, casting vain and sorrowing looks behind as if some +invisible hand had driven us out of this Eden, and pitilessly effaced +on our steps all the scene of our happiness and love. + + + + +XLI. + + +We returned home and spent a sad evening, although I was to accompany +Julie as far as Lyons on the box of her carriage. When the hand of her +little portable clock marked midnight, I retired, to let her take some +rest before morning. She accompanied me to the door; I opened it, and +said as I kissed her hand in the passage, "Good-bye, till the morrow!" +She did not answer, but I heard her murmur, with a sob, behind the +closing door, "There is no morrow for us!" + +There were a few days more, but they were short and bitter, as the last +dregs of a drained cup. We started for Chambery very early in the +morning, not to show our pale cheeks and swollen eyelids in broad +daylight, and passed the day there in a small inn of the Italian +faubourg. The wooden galleries of the inn overlooked a garden with a +stream running through it, and for a few hours we cheated ourselves +into the belief that we were once more in our home at Aix, with its +galleries, its silence, and its solitude. + + + + +XLII. + + +We wished before we left Chambéry and the valley we so much loved to +visit together the humble dwelling of Jean Jacques Rousseau and Madame +de Warens, at Les Charmettes. A landscape is but a man or a woman. What +is Vaucluse without Petrarch? Sorrento without Tasso? What is Sicily +without Theocritus, or the Paraclet without Heloise? What is Annecy +without Madame de Warens? What is Chambéry without Jean Jacques +Rousseau? A sky without rays, a voice without echo, a landscape without +life! Man does not only animate his fellow-men, he animates all nature. +He carries his own immortality with him into heaven, but bequeaths +another to the spots that he has consecrated by his presence; it is +only there we can trace his course, and really converse with his +memory. We took with us the volume of the "Confessions" in which the +poet of Les Charmettes describes this rustic retreat. Rousseau was +wrecked there by the first storms of his fate, and was rescued by a +woman, young, lovely, and adventurous, wrecked and lost like himself. +This woman seems to have been a compound of virtues and weaknesses, +sensibility and license, piety and independence of thought, formed +expressly by Nature to cherish and develop the strange youth, whose +mind comprehended that of a sage, a lover, a philosopher, a legislator, +and a madman. Another woman might perhaps have produced another life. +In a man we can always trace the woman whom he first loved. Happy would +he have been who had met Madame de Warens before her profanation! She +was an idol to be adored, but the idol had been polluted. She herself +debased the worship that a young and loving heart tendered her. The +amours of this woman and Rousseau appear like a leaf torn from the +loves of Daphnis and Chloe, and found soiled and defiled on the bed of +a courtesan. It' matters not; it was the first love, or the first +delirium, if you will, of the young man. The birthplace of that love, +the arbor where Rousseau made his first avowal, the room where he +blushed at his first emotions, the yard where he gloried in the most +humble offices to serve his beloved protectress, the spreading +chestnut-trees beneath which they sat together to speak of God, and +intermingled their sportive theology with bursts of merriment and +childish caresses, the landscape, mysterious and wild as they, which +seems so well adapted to them,--have all, for the lover, the poet, or +the philosopher, a deep and hidden attraction. They yield to it without +knowing why. For poets this was the first page of that life which was a +poem; for philosophers it was the cradle of a revolution; for lovers it +is the birthplace of first love. + + + + +XLIII. + + +We followed the stony path at the bottom of the ravine which leads to +Les Charmettes, still talking of this love. We were alone. The +goat-herds even had forsaken the dried-up pastures and the leafless +hedges. The sun shone now and then between the passing clouds, and its +concentrated rays were warmer within the sheltered sides of the ravine. +The redbreasts hopped about the bushes almost within our reach. Every +now and then we would sit on the southern bank of the road to read a +page or two of the "Confessions," and identify ourselves with the +place. + +We fancied we saw the young vagrant in his tattered clothes, knocking +at the gate and delivering, with a blush, his letter of recommendation +to the fair recluse, in the lonely path that leads from the house to +the church. They were so present to our fancy, that it seemed as though +they were expecting us, and that we should see them at the window or in +the garden walks of Les Charmettes. We would walk on, then stop again; +the spot seemed to attract and to repel us by turns, as a place where +love had been revealed, but where love had been profaned also. It +presented no such perils to us. We were destined to carry away our love +from thence as pure and as divine as we had brought it there within us. + +"Oh," I inwardly exclaimed, "were I a Rousseau, what might not this +other Madame de Warens have made me; she who is as superior to her of +Les Charmettes as I am inferior to Rousseau, not in feeling, but in +genius." + +Absorbed in these thoughts, we walked up a shelving greensward upon +which a few walnut-trees were scattered here and there. These trees had +seen the lovers beneath their shade. To the right, where the pass +narrows so as to appear to form a barrier to the traveller, stands the +house of Madame de Warens on a high terrace of rough and ill-cemented +stones. It is a little square building of gray stone, with two windows +and a door opening on the terrace, and the same on the garden side; +there are three low rooms on the upper story, and a large room on the +ground floor with no other furniture than a portrait of Madame de +Warens in her youth. Her lovely face beams forth from the dust-covered +and dingy canvas with beauty, sportiveness, and pensive grace. Poor +charming woman! Had she not met that wandering boy on the highway; had +she not opened to him her house and heart, his sensitive and suffering +genius might have been extinguished in the mire. The meeting seemed +like the effect of chance, but it was predestination meeting the great +man under the form of his first love. That woman saved him; she +cultivated him; she excited him in solitude, in liberty, and in love, +as the houris of the East through pleasure raise up martyrs in their +young votaries. She gave him his dreamy imagination, his almost +feminine soul, his tender accents, his passion for nature. Her pensive +fancy imparted to him enthusiasm,--the enthusiasm of women, of young +men, of lovers, of all the poor, the oppressed, the unhappy of his day. +She gave him the world, and he proved ungrateful.... She gave him fame, +and he bequeathed opprobrium.... But posterity should be grateful to +them, and forgive a weakness that gave us the prophet of liberty. When +Rousseau wrote those odious pages against his benefactress, he was no +longer Rousseau, he was a poor madman. Who knows if his morbid and +disordered imagination, which made him at that time see an insult in +every benefit and hatred in all friendship, did not show him likewise +the courtesan in the loving woman, and wantonness instead of love? I +have always suspected it. I defy any rational man to recompose, with a +semblance of probability, the character Rousseau gives to the woman he +loved, from the contradictory elements which he describes in her. Those +elements exclude each other: if she had soul enough to adore Rousseau, +she did not at the same time love Claude Anet; if she grieved for +Claude Anet and Rousseau, she did not love the young hair-dresser. If +she was pious she did not glory in her weakness, but must have deplored +it; if engaging, handsome, and frail, as Rousseau depicts her, she +could not be reduced to look for admirers among the vagrants of the +streets, or on the highways. If she affected devotion with such a life, +she was a calculating hypocrite; and if a hypocrite, she was not the +frank, open, and unreserved creature of the "Confessions." The likeness +cannot be true; it is a fancy head and a fancy heart. There is some +hidden mystery here, which must be attributed rather to the misguided +hand of the artist than to the nature of the woman whom he wished to +represent. We must neither accuse the painter whose discernment was at +that time impaired, nor believe in the portrait which has disfigured +the sketch he at first made of an adorable creature. + +For my part I never could believe that Madame de Warens would have +recognized herself in the questionable pages of Rousseau's old age. In +my fancy, I have always restored her to what she was, or what she +appeared at Annecy to the young poet,--lovely, feeling, tender, frail +though really pious, prodigal of kindness, thirsting after love, and +desirous of blending the tender names of mother and of mistress in her +affection for the youth that Providence had confided to her, and whom +her love had adopted. This is the true portrait, such as the old men of +Chambéry and Annecy have told me that their fathers had transmitted to +them. Rousseau's mind itself bears witness against his own accusations. +Whence would he have derived his sublime and tender piety, his feminine +melancholy, his exquisite and delicate touches of feeling, if a woman +had not bestowed them with her heart. No, the woman who called into +existence such a man was not a cynical courtesan, but rather a fallen +Héloise--an Héloise fallen by love and not by vice or depravity. I +appeal from Rousseau the morose old man, calumniating human nature, to +Rousseau, the young and ardent lover; and when I go, as I often do, to +muse at Les Charmettes, I seek a Madame de Warens far more touching and +attractive in my imagination than in his. + + + + +XLIV. + + +A poor woman made us some fire in Madame de Warens' room; accustomed to +the visit of strangers, and to their long conversations on the scene of +the early days of a celebrated man, she attended to her usual work in +the kitchen and in the yard, and left us at liberty to warm ourselves, +or to saunter backwards and forwards from the house to the garden. This +little sunny garden, surrounded by a wall which separated it from the +vineyards, and overrun with nettles, mallows, and weeds of all kinds, +resembled one of those village churchyards where the peasants assemble +to bask in the rays of the sun, leaning against the church-walls, with +their feet on the graves of the dead. The walks, so neatly gravelled +once, were now covered with damp earth and yellow moss, and showed the +neglect that had followed on absence. How we would have wished to +discover the print of the footsteps of Madame de Warens, when she used +to go, basket in hand, from tree to tree, from vine to vine, gathering +the pears of the orchard or the grapes of the vineyard, and indulging +in merry frolic with, the pupil or the confessor. But there is no trace +of them in their house, save their memory. That is enough; their name, +their remembrance, their image, the sun they saw, the air they +breathed, which seems still beaming with their youth, warm with their +breath, and filled with their voices, give one back the light, the +dreams, the sounds, which shed enchantment round their spring of life. + +I saw by Julie's pensive countenance, and her silent thoughtfulness, +that the sight of this sanctuary of love and genius impressed her as +deeply as myself. At times she shunned me, and remained wrapped in her +own thoughts as if she feared to communicate them; she would go into +the house to warm herself when I was in the garden, and return to sit +on the stone bench in the arbor when I joined her at the fireside. At +length I went to her in the arbor; the last yellow leaves hung loosely +from the vine, and allowed the sun to penetrate and envelop her with +its rays. + +"What is it you wish to think of without me?" I said in a tone of +tender reproach. "Do I ever think alone?" "Alas!" she answered, "you +will not believe me, but I was thinking, that I could wish to be Madame +de Warens for you, during one single season, even though I were to be +forsaken for the remainder of my days, and though shame were to attach +to my memory like hers; even though you proved yourself as ungrateful +and calumniating as Rousseau!.... How happy she was," she continued, +gazing up at the sky as though she sought the image of the strange +creature she envied,--"how happy she was! she sacrificed herself for +him she loved." + +"What ingratitude and what profanation of yourself and of our +happiness!" I answered, walking slowly back with her towards the house, +upon the dry leaves, that rustled beneath our feet. + +"Have I then ever, by a single word, or look, or by a single sigh, +shown that aught was wanting to my bitter but complete felicity? Cannot +you, in your angelic fancy, imagine for another Rousseau (if Nature +could have produced two) another Madame de Warens?--a Madame de Warens, +young and pure, angel, lover, sister, all at once, bestowing her whole +soul, her immaculate and immortal soul, instead of her perishable +charms; bestowing it on a brother who was lost and is found, who was +young, misled, and wandering too in this world, like the son of the +watch-maker; throwing open to that brother, instead of her house and +garden, the bright treasures of her affection, purifying him in her +rays, cleansing him from his first pollutions by her tears, deterring +him forever from any grosser pleasure than that of inward possession +and contemplation, teaching him to value his very privations far above +the sensual enjoyment that man shares with brutes, pointing out to him +his course through life, inciting him to glory and to virtue, and +rewarding his sacrifices by this one thought,--that fame, virtue, and +sacrifices were all taken into account in the heart of his beloved, all +accumulate in her love, are multiplied by her gratitude, and are added +to that treasure of tenderness which is ever increasing here below, to +be expended only in heaven?" + + + + +XLV. + + +Nevertheless, as I spoke thus, I fell quite overcome, with my face +hidden in my hands, on a chair that was near the wall far from hers. I +remained there without speaking a word. "Let us begone," she said; "I +am cold; this place is not good for us!" We gave some money to the good +woman, and we returned slowly to Chambéry. + +The next day Julie was to start for Lyons. In the evening Louis came to +see us at the inn, and I induced him to go with me to spend a few weeks +at my father's house, which was situated on the road from Paris to +Lyons. We then went out together to inquire at the coachmaker's in +Chambéry for a light calèche, in which we could follow Julie's carriage +as far as the town where we were to separate. We soon found what we +sought. + +Before daylight we were off, travelling in silence through the winding +defiles of Savoy, which at Pont-de-Beauvoisin open into the monotonous +and stony plains of Dauphiny. At every stage we got down and went to +the first carriage to inquire about the poor invalid. Alas! every turn +of the carriage-wheel which took her further from that spring of life +which she had found in Savoy seemed to rob her of her bloom, and to +bring back the look of languor and the slow fever which had struck me +as being the beauty of death the first time I saw her. As the time for +our leaving her drew near, she was visibly oppressed with grief. +Between La-Tour-du-Pin and Lyons, we got into her carriage for a few +leagues to try and cheer her. I begged her to sing the ballad of Auld +Robin Gray for my friend; she did so, to please me, but at the second +verse, which relates the parting of the two lovers the analogy between +our situation and the hopeless sadness of the ballad, as she sung it, +struck her so forcibly that she burst into tears. She took up a black +shawl that she wore that day, and threw it as a veil over her face, and +I saw her sobbing a long while beneath the shawl. At the last stage she +fell into a fainting fit, which lasted till we reached the hotel where +we were to get down at Lyons. With the assistance of her maid, we +carried her upstairs, and laid her on her bed. In the evening she +rallied, and the next day we pursued our journey towards Macon. + + + + +XLVI. + + +It was there we were to separate definitively. We gave our directions +to her courier, and hurried over the adieux for fear of increasing her +illness by prolonging such painful emotions, as one who with an +unflinching hand hastily bares a wound to spare the sufferer. My friend +left for my father's country house, whither I was to follow the next +day. + +Louis was no sooner gone than I felt quite unable to keep my word. I +could not rest under the idea of leaving Julie in tears, to prosecute +her long winter journey with only the care of servants, and the thought +that she might fall ill in some lonely inn, and die while calling for +me in vain, was unbearable. I had no money left; a good old man who had +once lent me twenty-five louis had died during my absence. I took my +watch, a gold chain that one of my mother's friends had given me three +years before, some trinkets, my epaulets, my sword, and the gold lace +off my uniform, wrapped them all in my cloak, and went to my mother's +jeweller, who gave me thirty-five louis for the whole. From thence, I +hurried to the inn where Julie slept, and called her courier; I told +him I should follow the carriage at a distance to the gates of Paris, +but that I did not wish his mistress to know it, for fear she should +object to it, out of consideration to me. I inquired the names of the +towns and the hotels where he intended to stay on the road, in order +that I might stop in the same towns, but stay at other hotels. I +rewarded him by anticipation and liberally for his secrecy, then ran to +the post house, ordered horses, and set off half an hour after the +departure of the carriage I wished to follow. + + + + +XLVII. + + +[Illustration: _RAPHAEL SEES JULIE IN PARIS_.] + + +No unforeseen obstacles counteracted the mysterious watchfulness which +I exercised, though still invisible. The courier gave notice secretly +to the postilions of the approach of another calèche, and, as he +ordered horses for me, I always found the relays ready. I accelerated +or slackened my speed according as I wished to keep at a distance, or +to come nearer to the first carriage, and always questioned the +postilions respecting the health of the young lady they had just +driven. From the top of the hills I could see, far down in the plain, +the carriage speeding through fog or sunshine, and bearing away my +happiness. My thoughts outstripped the horses; in fancy I entered the +carriage and saw Julie asleep, dreaming perhaps of me, or awake, and +weeping over our bright days forever flown. When I closed my eyes, to +see her better, I fancied I heard her breathe. I can scarcely now +comprehend that I had strength of mind and self-denial enough to resist +during a journey of one hundred and twenty leagues the impulse that +unceasingly impelled me towards that carriage which I followed without +attempting to overtake; my whole soul went with it, and my body alone, +insensible to the snow and sleet, followed, and was jolted, tossed and +swung about, without the least consciousness of its own sufferings. But +the fear of causing Julie an unexpected shock which might prove fatal +or of renewing a heartrending scene of separation, repelled me, and the +idea of watching over her safety like a loving Providence, and with +angel-like disinterestedness, nailed me to my resolution. + +The first time, she got down at the great Hotel of Autun, and I, in a +little inn of the faubourg close by. Before daylight the two carriages, +within sight of each other, were once more running along the white and +winding road, through the gray plains and druidical oak forests of +Upper Burgundy. We stopped in the little town of Avalon,--she in the +centre, and I at the extremity of the town. The next day we were +rolling on towards Sens. The snow which the north wind had accumulated +on the barren heights of Lucy-le-Bois and of Vermanton, fell in +half-melted flakes on the road, and smothered the sound of the wheels. +One could scarcely distinguish the misty horizon at the distance of a +few feet, through the whirling cloud of snow that the wind drifted from +the adjoining fields. It was no longer possible, by sight or sound, to +judge of the distance between the two carriages. Suddenly I perceived +in front, almost touching my horses' heads, Julie's carriage, which was +drawn up in the middle of the road. The courier had alighted, and was +standing on the steps calling out for help and making signs of +distress. I leaped out and flew to the carriage, by a first impulse +stronger than prudence; I jumped inside, and saw the maid striving to +recall her mistress from a fainting fit brought on by the weather and +fatigue, and perhaps by the storms of the heart. The courier ran to +fetch warm water from the distant cottages, and the maid rubbed her +mistress's cold feet in her hands, or pressed them to her bosom to warm +them. Oh, what I felt, as I held that adored form in my arms during one +long hour of insensibility, desiring that she should hear, and dreading +lest she should recognize, my voice, which recalled her to life, none +can conceive or describe, unless they, too, have felt life and death +thus struggling in their hearts. + +At last our tender care, the application of the hot-water bottles which +had been brought by the courier, and the warmth of my hands on hers, +recalled heat to the extremities. The color which began to appear in +her cheeks, and a long and feeble sigh which escaped her lips, +indicated her return to life. I jumped out on the road, so that she +might not see me when she opened her eyes, and remained there, behind +the carriage, my face muffled up in my cloak. I desired the servants to +make no mention of my sudden appearance. They soon made a sign to me +that she was recovering consciousness, and I heard her voice stammer +forth these words, as if in a dream: "Oh, if Raphael were here! I +thought it was Raphael!" I hastily returned to my own carriage; the +horses started afresh, and a wide distance soon lay between us. In the +evening I went to inquire after her at the inn where she had alighted +at Sens. I was told that she was quite well, and was sleeping soundly. + +I followed in her track as far as Fossard, a stage near the little town +of Montereau; there the road from Sens to Paris branches off in two +directions,--one branch passing through Fontainebleau, the other +through Melun. This latter being shorter by several leagues, I followed +it in order to precede Julie by a few hours in Paris, and see her get +down at her own door. I paid the postilions double, and arrived long +before dark at the hotel where I was accustomed to put up in Paris. At +nightfall I stationed myself on the quay opposite to Julie's house, +that she had so often described to me; I knew it as if I had lived +there all my life. I observed through the windows that hurrying to and +fro of shadows within, which one sees in a house where some new guest +is expected. I could see on the ceiling of her room the reflection of +the fire which had been lighted on the hearth. An old man's face showed +itself several times at the window, and appeared to watch and listen to +the noises of the quay. It was her husband,--her second father. The +concierge held the door open, and stepped out from time to time, to +watch and listen likewise. Now and then a pale and rapid gleam of light +from the street lamp, which swung backwards and forwards with the gusty +wind of December, shot athwart the pavement before the house, and then +left it in darkness. At last a travelling carriage swept around the +corner of one of the streets which lead to the quay, and stopped before +the house. I darted forward and half-concealed myself in the shade of a +column at the next door to that at which the carriage stopped. I saw +the servants rush to the door. I saw Julie alight, and saw the old man +embrace her, as a father embraces his child after a long absence; he +then walked heavily upstairs, leaning on the arm of the concierge. The +carriage was unpacked, the postilion drove it round to another street +to put it up, the door was closed. I returned to my post near the +parapet on the river side. + + + + +XLVIII. + + +I stood a long while contemplating from thence the lighted windows of +Julie's house, and sought to discover what was going on inside. I saw +the usual stir of an arrival, busy people carrying trunks, unpacking +parcels, and setting all things in order; when this bustle had a little +subsided, when the lights no longer ran backwards and forwards from +room to room, and that the old man's room alone was lighted by the pale +rays of a night lamp, I could distinguish, through the closed windows +of the _entresol_ beneath, the motionless shadow of Julie's tall and +drooping form on the white curtains. She remained some time in the same +attitude; then I saw her open the window spite of the cold, look +towards the Seine in my direction, as if her eye had rested upon me +from some preternatural revelation of love, then turn towards the +north, and gaze at a star that we used to contemplate together, and +which we had both agreed to look at in absence, as a meeting-place for +our souls in the inaccessible solitude of the firmament. I felt that +look fall on my heart like living coals of fire. I knew that our hearts +were united in one thought and my resolution vanished. I darted forward +to rush across the quay, to go beneath her windows, and say one word +that might make her recognize her brother at her feet. At the same +instant she closed her window. The rolling of carriages covered the +sound of my voice; the light was extinguished at the _entresol_, and I +remained motionless on the quay. The clock of a neighboring edifice +struck slowly twelve; I approached the door, and kissed it convulsively +without daring to knock. I knelt on the threshold, and prayed to the +stones to preserve to me the supreme treasure which I had brought back +to confide to these walls, and then slowly withdrew. + + + + +XLIX. + + +I left Paris the next day without having seen a single one of the +friends I had there. I inwardly rejoiced at not having bestowed one +look, one word, or a single step on any one but her. The rest of the +world no longer existed for me. Before I left, however, I put into the +post a note dated Paris, and addressed to Julie, which she would +receive on waking. The note only contained these words: "I have +followed you, I have watched over you though invisible. I would not +leave you without knowing that you were under the care of those who +love you. Last night, at midnight, when you opened the window, and +looked at the star, and sighed, I was there! You might have heard my +voice. When you read these lines I shall be far away!" + + + + +L. + + +I travelled day and night in such complete dizziness of thought that I +felt neither cold, hunger nor distance, and arrived at M---- as if +awaking from a dream, and scarcely remembered that I had been to Paris. +I found my friend Louis awaiting me at my father's house in the +country. His presence was soothing to me; I could at least speak to him +of her whom he admired as much as I did. We slept in the same room, and +part of our nights were spent in talking of the heavenly vision, by +which he had been as dazzled as myself. He considered her as one of +those delusions of fancy, one of those women above mortal height, like +Tasso's Eleanora, Dante's Beatrice, Petrarch's Laura, or Vittoria +Colonna, the lover, the poet, and the heroine at once,--forms that flit +across the earth, scarcely touching it, and without tarrying, only to +fascinate the eyes of some men, the privileged few of love, to lead on +their souls to immortal aspirations, and to be the _sursum corda_ of +superior imaginations. As to Louis, he dared not raise his love as high +as his enthusiasm. His sensitive and tender heart, which had been early +wounded, was at that time filled with the image of a poor and pious +orphan, one of his own family. His happiness would have been to have +married her, and to live in obscurity and peace in a cottage among the +hills of Chambéry. Want of fortune restricted the two poor lovers to a +hopeless and tender friendship, from the fear of lowering the name of +their family in poverty, or of bequeathing indigence to children. The +young girl died some years after, of solitude and hopelessness. I have +never seen a sweeter face droop and die for the want of a few of +fortune's rays. Her countenance, where might be traced the remains of +blooming youth, equally ready to revive or to fade forever, bore in the +highest degree the sublime and touching impress of that virtue of the +unhappy, called resignation. She became blind in consequence of the +secret tears she shed during her long years of expectation and +uncertainty. I met her once, on my return from one of my journeys to +Italy. She was led by the hand through the streets of Chambéry, by one +of her little sisters. When she heard my voice, she turned pale, and +felt for some support with her poor hesitating hand: "Pardon me," she +said; "but when I used formerly to hear that voice, I always heard with +it another." Poor girl! she now listens to her lover's voice in heaven. + + + + +LI. + + +How long were the two months that I had to pass away from Julie in my +father's house, before the time came that I could join her in Paris! +During the last three or four months, I had exhausted the allowance I +received from my father, the secret resources of my mother's +indulgence, and the purse of my friends, to pay the debts that +dissipation, play, and my travels had made me contract. I had no means +of obtaining the small sum I required to go to Paris, and to live there +even in seclusion and penury, and was obliged to wait till the month of +January, when my quarter's allowance from my father became due. At that +time of the year, too, I was in the habit of receiving some little +presents from a rich but severe old uncle, and from some good and +prudent old aunts. By means of all these resources, I hoped to collect +a sum of six or eight hundred francs, which would be sufficient to keep +me in Paris for a few months. Privations would be no trial to my +vanity, for my life consisted only in my love. All the riches of this +world could, in my eyes, only have served to purchase for me the +portion of the day that I was to pass with her. + +The weary days of expectation were filled with thoughts of her. We +devoted to each other every hour of our time. In the morning, on +waking, she retired to her room to write to me, and at the same instant +I, too, was writing to her; our pages and our thoughts crossed on the +road by every post, questioning, answering, and mingling without a +day's interruption. There were thus in reality for us only a few hours' +absence; in the evening and at night. But even these I consecrated to +her: I was surrounded with her letters,--they lay open upon the table, +my bed was strewn with them; I learned them by heart. I often repeated +to myself the most affecting and impassioned passages, adding in fancy +her voice, her gesture, her tone, her look; I would answer her, and +thus succeed in producing such a complete delusion of her real +presence, that I felt impatient and annoyed when I was summoned to +meals, or interrupted by visitors; at these times it seemed as though +she were torn from me, or driven away from my room. In my long rambles +on the mountains, or in those misty plains without an horizon which +border the Saône, I always took her last letter with me, and would sit +on the rocks, or on the edge of the water, amid the ice and snow, to +read it over and over again. Each time I fancied I discovered some word +or expression that had escaped my notice before. I remember that I +always instinctively directed my course towards the north, as if each +step I took in the direction of Paris brought me nearer to her, and +diminished the cruel distance that separated us. Sometimes I went very +far on the Paris road under this impression, and when it was time to +return, I had always a severe struggle with myself. I felt sorrowful, +and would often look back towards that point of the horizon where she +dwelt, and walk slowly and heavily home. Oh, how I envied the +snow-laden wings of the crows that flew northward through the mist! +What a pang I felt as I saw the carriages rolling towards Paris! How +many of my useless days of youth would I not have given to be in the +place of one of those listless old men who glanced unconcernedly +through their carriage windows at the solitary youth by the wayside, +whose steps travelled in the contrary direction to his heart. Oh, how +interminably long did the short days of December and January appear! +There was one bright hour for me, among all my hours,--it was when I +heard from my room the step, the voice, and the rattle of the postman, +who was distributing the letters in the neighborhood. As soon as I +heard him I opened my window; I saw him coming up the street, with his +hands full of letters, which he distributed to all the maid-servants, +and waited at each door till he received the postage. How I cursed the +slowness of the good women, who seemed never to have done reckoning the +change into his hand! Before the postman rang at my fathers door I had +already flown downstairs, crossed the vestibule, and stood panting at +the door. While the old man fumbled among his letters, I strove to +discover the envelope of fine post paper, and the pretty English +handwriting that distinguished my treasure among all the coarse papers +and clumsy superscriptions of commercial or vulgar letters. I seized it +with a trembling hand; my eyes swam, my heart beat, and my legs refused +their office. I hid the letter in my bosom for fear of meeting some one +on the stairs; and lest so frequent a correspondence should appear +suspicious to my mother, I would run into my room and bolt my door, so +as to devour the pages at leisure, without fear of interruption. How +many tears and kisses I impressed on the paper! Alas, when many years +afterwards I opened the volume of these letters, how many words effaced +by my lips, and that my tears or my transports had washed or torn out, +were wanting to the sense of many sentences! + + + + + +LII. + + +After breakfast I used to retire to my upper room, to read my letter +over again and to answer it. These were the most feverish and +delightful hours in the day. I would take four sheets of the largest +and thinnest paper that Julie had sent me on purpose from Paris, and +whose every page, commencing very high up, ending very low down, +crossed, and written on the margin, contained thousands of words. These +sheets I covered every morning, and found them too scanty and too soon +filled for the passionate and tumultuous overflow of my thoughts. In +these letters there was no beginning, no middle, no end, and no +grammar; nothing, in short, of what is generally understood by the word +style. It was my soul laid bare before another soul expressing, or +rather stammering forth, as well as it could, the conflicting emotions +that filled it, with the help of the inadequate language of men. But +such language was not made to express unutterable things; its imperfect +signs and empty terms, its hollow speeches and its icy words, were +melted, like refractory ore, by the concentrated fire of our souls, and +cast into an indescribable language, vague, ethereal, flaming and +caressing, like the licking tongues of fire that had no meaning for +others, but which we alone understood, as it was part of ourselves. +These effusions of my heart never ended and never slackened. If the +firmament had been a single page, and God had bid me fill it with my +love, it could not have contained one-half of what spoke within me! I +never stopped till the four sheets were filled; yet I always seemed to +have said nothing, and in truth I had said nothing,--for who could ever +tell what is infinite? + + + + +LIII. + + +These letters, which were without any pitiful pretensions to talent on +my part, and were a delight and not a labor, might have been of +marvellous service to me at a later period, if fate had destined me to +address my fellow men, or to depict the shades, the transports, or the +pains of passion, in works of imagination. Unknown to myself, I +struggled desperately as Jacob wrestled with the angel, against the +poorness, the rigidity, and the resistance of the language I was forced +to use, as I knew not the language of the skies. The efforts that I +made to conquer, bend, smooth, extend, spiritualize, color, inflame, or +moderate expressions; the wish to render by words the nicest shades of +feeling the most ethereal aspirations of thought, the most irresistible +impulses, and the most chaste reserve of passion; to express looks, +attitudes, sighs, silence, and even the annihilation of the heart +adoring the invisible object of its love,--all these efforts, I repeat, +which seemed to bend my pen beneath my fingers like a rebellious +instrument, made me sometimes find the very word, expression, or cry +that I required to give a voice to the unutterable. I had used no +language, but I had cried forth the cry of my soul; and I was heard. +When I rose from my chair, after this desperate but delightful struggle +against words, pen, and paper, I remembered that, spite of the winter +cold in my room, the perspiration stood upon my forehead, and I used to +open the window to cool my fevered brow. + + + + +LIV. + + +My letters were not only a cry of love, they were more frequently full +of invocations, contemplation, dreams of the future, prospects of +heaven, consolations, and prayers. + +My love, which by its nature was debarred from all those enjoyments +which relax the heart by satisfying the senses, had opened afresh +within me all the springs of piety that had been dried up or polluted +by vile pleasures. I felt in my heart all the purity and elevation of +divine love. I strove to bear away with me to heaven, on the wings of +my excited and almost mystical imagination, that other suffering and +discouraged soul. I spoke of God, who alone was perfect enough to have +created her superhuman perfection of beauty, genius, and tenderness; +great enough to contain our boundless aspirations; infinite and +inexhaustible enough to absorb and whelm in himself the love he had +lighted in us, so that his flame, in consuming us one by the other, +might make us both exhale ourselves in him. I comforted Julie under the +sacrifice that necessity obliged us to make of complete happiness here +below; I pointed out to her the merit of this self-denial of an instant +in the eyes of the Eternal Remunerator of our actions. I blessed the +mournful and sublime purity of such sacrifices, since they would one +day obtain for us a more immaterial and angelic union in the eternal +atmosphere of pure spirits. I went so far as to speak of myself as +happy in my abnegation, and to sing the hymns of the martyrdom of love +to which we were by love, by greater love, condemned. I entreated Julie +not to think of my grief and not to give way to sorrow herself. I +showed a courage and a contempt for terrestrial happiness that I +possessed, alas! very often only in words. I offered up to her, as a +holocaust, all that was human in me. I elevated myself to the +immateriality of angels, so that she might not suspect a suffering or a +desire in my adoration. I besought her to seek in a tender and +sustaining religion, in the shelter of the church, in the mysterious +faith of Christ, the God of tears, in kneeling and in invocation,--the +hopes, the consolations, and the delights that I had tasted in my +childhood. She had renewed in me all my early feelings of piety. I +composed prayers for her,--calm, yet ardent prayers, that ascend like +flames to Heaven, but like flames that no wind can cause to vacillate. +I begged her to pronounce these prayers at certain hours of the day and +night, when I would repeat them also, so that our two minds, united by +the same words, might be elevated at the same hour in one +invocation.... All these were wet with my tears, that left their traces +on my words, and were doubtless more powerful and more eloquent than +they. I used to go and throw into the post by stealth these letters, +the very marrow of my bones; and felt relieved on my return, as if I +had thrown off a part of the weight of my own heart. + + + + +LV. + + +Spite of my continual efforts and of the perpetual application of my +young and ardent imagination to communicate to my letters the fire that +consumed me, to create a language for my sighs, to pour my burning soul +upon the paper and make it overleap the distance that divided us,--in +this combat against the impotence of words, I was always surpassed by +Julie. Her letters had more expression in one phrase than mine in their +eight pages,--her heart breathed in the words; one saw her looks in the +lines; the expressions seemed still warm from her lips. In her, nothing +evaporated during that slow and dull transition of the feeling to the +word which lets the lava of the heart cool and pale beneath the pen of +man. Woman has no style, that is why all she says is so well said. +Style is a garment, but the unveiled soul stands forth upon the lips or +beneath the hand of woman. Like the Venus of speech, it rises from the +depths of feeling in its naked beauty, wakes of itself to life, wonders +at its own existence, and is adored ere it knows that it has spoken. + + + + +LVI. + + +What letters and what ardor! What tones and accents! What fire and +purity combined, like light and transparency in a diamond, like passion +and bashfulness on the brow of the young girl who loves! What powerful +simplicity! What inexhaustible effusions! What sudden revivals in the +midst of languor! What sounds and songs! Then there would be sadness, +recurring like the unexpected notes at the end of an air; caressing +words, which seemed to fan the brow like the breath of a fond mother +bending over her smiling child; a voluptuous lulling of half-whispered +words, and hushed and dreamy sentences, which wrapped one in rays and +murmurs, stillness and perfume, and led one gently by the soft and +soothing syllables to the repose of love, the still sleep of the soul, +unto the kiss upon the page which said farewell! The farewell and the +kiss both silently received, as the lips silently impressed them. I +have seen those letters all again; I have read over, page by page, this +correspondence, bound up and classed, after death, by the pious hand of +friendship; one letter answering the other from the first note down to +the last word written by the death-struck hand, to which love still +imparted strength. I have read them o'er, and burned them with tears, +in secret, as if I committed a crime, and snatching twenty times the +half-consumed page from the flames to read it once again. Why did I +thus destroy? Because their very ashes would have been too burning for +this world, and I have scattered them to the winds of heaven. + + + + +LVII. + + +At length the day came when I could reckon the hours that still +separated me from Julie. All the resources that I could command did not +amount to a sufficient sum to keep me three or four months in Paris. My +mother, who noticed my distress without guessing its cause, drew from +the casket which her fondness had already nearly emptied a large +diamond, mounted as a ring. Alas, it was the last remaining jewel of +her youth! She slipped it secretly into my hand, with tears. "I suffer +as much as you can, Raphael," she said with a mournful look, "to see +your unprofitable youth wasted in the idleness of a small town, or in +the reveries of a country life. I had always hoped that the gifts of +God, that from your infancy I rejoiced to see in you, would attract the +notice of the world, and open to you a career of fortune and honor. The +poverty against which we have to struggle does not allow us to bring +you forward. Hitherto such has been the will of God, and we must submit +with resignation to his ways, which are always the best. Yet it is with +grief I see you sinking into that moral languor which always follows +fruitless endeavors. Let us try Fate once more. Go, since the earth +here seems to burn beneath your feet,--go and live for awhile in Paris. +Call, with reserve and dignity, on those old friends of your family who +are now in power. Show the talents with which Nature and study have +endowed you. It is impossible that those at the head of the Government +should not strive to attract young men able, as you would be, to serve, +support, and adorn the reign of the princes whom God has restored to +us. Your poor father has much to do to bring up his six children, and +not to fall below his rank in the distresses of our rustic life. Your +other relations are good and kind, but they will not understand that +breathing-space and action are necessary to the devouring activity of +the mind at twenty. Here is my last jewel; I had promised my mother +never to part with it save from dire necessity. Take it, and sell it; +it will serve to maintain you in Paris a few weeks longer. It is the +last token of my love, which I stake for you in the lottery of +Providence. It must bring you good luck; for my solicitude, my prayers, +my tenderness for you go with it." I took the ring, and kissed my +mother's hand; a tear fell upon the diamond. Alas, it served not to +allow me to seek or to await the favor of great men or princes who +turned away from my obscurity, but to live three months of that divine +life of the heart worth centuries of greatness. This sacred diamond was +to me as Cleopatra's pearl dissolved in my cup of life, from which I +drank happiness and love for a short time. + + + + +LVIII. + + +I completely altered my habits from that day, from respect for my poor +mother's repeated sacrifices, and the concentration of all my thoughts +in this one desire,--to see once more my love, and to prolong, as much +as possible, by the strictest economy, the allotted time I was to spend +with Julie. I became as calculating and as sparing of the little gold I +took with me as an old miser. It seemed as though the most trifling sum +I spent was an hour of my happiness, or a drop of my felicity that I +wasted. I resolved to live like Jean Jacques Rousseau, on little or +nothing, and to retrench from my vanity, my dress, or my food, all that +I wished to bestow on the rapture of my soul. I was not, however, +without an undefined hope of making some use of my talents in the cause +of my love. These were as yet made known to a few friends only by some +verses; but in the last three months I had written during my sleepless +nights a little volume of poetry, amatory, melancholy, or pious, +according as my imagination spoke to me in tender or in serious notes. +The whole had been copied out with care in my best handwriting, and +shown to my father, who was an excellent critic, though somewhat +severe; a few friends, too, had favorably judged some fragments. I had +bound up my poetical treasure in green, a color of good omen for my +hopes of fame; but I had not shown it to my mother, whose chaste and +pious purity of mind might have taken alarm at the more antique than +Christian voluptuousness of some of my elegies. I hoped that the simple +grace and the winged enthusiasm of my poetry might please some +intelligent publisher, who would buy my volume, or at least consent to +print it at his own expense; and that the public taste, attracted by +the novelty of a style springing from the heart, and nursed in the +woods, would, perhaps, confer on me a humble fortune and a name. + + + + +LIX. + + +I had no need to look for a lodging in Paris. One of my friends, the +young Count de V----, who had just returned from his travels, was to +spend the winter and the following spring there, and had offered to +share with me a little _entresol_ that he occupied, over the rooms of +the concierge in the magnificent hotel (since pulled down) of the +Maréchal de Richelieu, in the Rue Neuve St. Augustin. The Count de +V----, with whom I was in almost daily correspondence, knew all. I had +given him a letter of introduction to Julie, that he might know the +soul of my soul, and that he might understand, if not my delirium, at +least my adoration for that woman. At first sight, he comprehended and +almost shared my enthusiasm. In his letters, he always alluded, with +tender pity and respect, to that fair vision of melancholy, which +seemed hovering between life and death, and only detained on earth, he +said, by the ineffable love she bore to me. He always spoke to me of +her as of a heavenly gift, sent to my eyes and heart, and which would +raise me above human nature as long as I remained enveloped in her +radiance. V----, who was persuaded of the holy and superhuman nature of +our attachment, considered it as a virtue, and felt no repugnance to +being the mediator and confidant of our love. Julie, on her part, spoke +of V---- as the only friend she considered worthy of me, and for whom +she would have wished to increase my friendship, instead of detracting +from it by a mean jealousy of the heart. Both urged me to come to +Paris, but V----, alone, knew the secret motives, and the strictly +material impossibility, which had detained me till then. Spite of his +devoted friendship, of which he gave me, until his death, so many +proofs during the troubles of my life, it was not in his power at that +time to remove the obstacles that arrested me. His mother had exhausted +her means to give him an education befitting his rank, and to allow him +to travel through Europe. He was himself deep in debt, and could only +offer me a corner in the apartment that his family provided for him. As +to all the rest, he was, at that time of his life, as poor and as much +enslaved as myself by the want so cruelly defined by Horace--_Res +angustæ domi_. + +I left M---- in a little one-horse jaunting car, consisting of a wooden +seat on an axle-tree, and four poles which supported a tarpaulin to +shelter us against the rain. These cars changed horses every four or +five miles, and served to convey to Paris the masons from the +Bourbonnais and from Auvergne, the weary pedestrians they met on the +road, and soldiers lamed by their long marches who were glad to spare a +day's fatigue for a few sous. I felt no shame or annoyance at this +vulgar mode of conveyance; I would have travelled barefooted through +the snow, and not have felt less proud or less happy, for I was thus +saving one or two louis with which I could purchase some days of +happiness. I reached the barrier of Paris without having felt a pebble +of the road. The night was dark, and it was raining hard; I took up my +portmanteau, and soon after knocked at the door of the humble lodging +of the Count de V----. + +He was waiting for me; he embraced me, and spoke of her. I was never +wearied of questioning and listening to him. That same evening I was to +see Julie. V---- was to announce my arrival, and prepare her for joy. +When every visitor had retired from Julie's drawing-room, V---- was to +leave last of all to join me at a little _café_ of the neighborhood +where I was to wait for him, and give me notice that she was alone, and +that I might throw myself at her feet. It was only after I had learned +all these particulars that I thought of drying my clothes and taking +some refreshment. I then took possession of the dark alcove of his +ante-room, which was lighted by one round window, and heated by a +stove. I dressed myself neatly and simply, so that she I loved might +not blush for me before her friends. + +At eleven o'clock V---- and I went out on foot; we proceeded together +as far as the window which I knew so well. There were three carriages +at the door. V---- went up, and I retired to wait for him at the +appointed place. How long that hour seemed while I waited for him! How +I execrated those visitors who, involuntarily importunate, came in +their indifference to dispose of some idle hours, and delayed the +reunion of two fond hearts who counted each second of their martyrdom +by their palpitations! At last V---- appeared; I followed rapidly on +his steps, he left me at the door, and I went up. + + + + +LX. + + +If I were to live a thousand times a thousand years, I should never +forget that instant and that sight. She was standing up in the light, +her elbow resting carelessly on the white marble of the chimney; her +tall and slender figure, her shoulders, and her profile, were reflected +in the glass; her face was turned towards the door, her eyes fixed on a +little dark passage leading to the drawing-room, and her head was bent +forward, and slightly inclined on one side, in the attitude of one +listening for the sound of approaching footsteps. She was dressed in +mourning, in a black silk dress trimmed with black lace round the neck +and the skirt. This profusion of lace, rumpled by the cushions of the +sofa to which her indolent and languid life confined her, hung around +her like the black and clustering bunches of the elder, shedding its +berries in the autumnal wind. The dark color of her gown left only her +shoulders, neck, and face in light, and the mourning of her dress +seemed completed by the natural mourning of her dark hair, which was +gathered up at the back of her head. This uniformity of color added to +her height, and showed to advantage her graceful and flexible figure. +The reflection of the fire in the glass, the light of the lamp on the +chimney-piece striking on her cheek, and the animation of impatient +expectation and love, shed on her countenance a splendor of youth, +bloom, and life, which seemed a transfiguration effected by love. + +My first exclamation was one of joy and delighted surprise at seeing +her thus, more living, lovely, and immortal, in my eyes, than I had +ever seen her in the brightest days of Savoy. A feeling of deceitful +security and eternal possession entered into my heart, as my eyes fell +on her. She tried to stammer forth a few words on seeing me, but could +not. Her lips trembled with emotion. I fell at her feet, and pressed my +lips to the carpet upon which she trod. I then looked up to assure +myself that her presence was not a dream. She laid one of her hands +upon my hair, which thrilled beneath her touch, and holding by the +other to the marble of the chimney-piece, she too fell on her knees +before me. We gazed at each other at a distance. We sought words, and +found none for our excess of joy. We remained silent, but that very +silence and our kneeling posture was a language; I knelt full of +adoration, she full of happiness, and our attitude seemed to say, They +adore one another, but a phantom of Death stands between, and though +their eyes drink rapture, they will never be clasped in each other's +arms. + + + + +LXI. + + +I know not how many minutes we remained thus, nor how many thousand +interrogations and answers, what floods of tears, and oceans of joy +passed unexpressed between our mute and closed lips, between our +moistened eyes, between her countenance and mine. Happiness had struck +us motionless, and time had ceased to be. It was eternity in an +instant. + +There was a knock at the street door; a sound of feet on the stairs. I +rose, and she resumed, with a faltering step, her place on the sofa. I +sat down on the other side, in the shade, to hide my flushed cheeks and +tearful eyes. A man of already advanced age, of imposing stature, with +a benignant, noble, and beaming countenance, slowly entered the room. +He approached the sofa without speaking, and imprinted a paternal kiss +on Julie's trembling hand. It was Monsieur de Bonald. Spite of the +painful awakening from ecstasy that the knock and arrival of a stranger +had produced in me, I inwardly blessed him for having interrupted that +first look in which reason might have been overpowered by rapture. +There are times when the cold voice of reason is required to still with +its icy tones the fever of the senses, and to strengthen anew the soul +in its holy and energetic resolves. + + + + +LXII. + + +Julie introduced me to M. de Bonald as the young man whose verses he +had read; he was surprised at my youth, and addressed me with +indulgence. He conversed with Julie with the paternal familiarity of a +man whose genius had rendered him illustrious; he had all the serenity +of age, and sought in the company of a young and lovely woman merely a +passing ray of beauty to enchant his eyes, and the charm of her society +during the calm and conversational hours at the close of day. His voice +was deep, as though it came from the heart, and his conversation flowed +with the graceful, yet serious, ease of a mind which seeks to unbend in +repose. Honesty was stamped on his brow, and spoke in the accents of +his voice. As the conversation seemed likely to be prolonged, and the +clock was on the point of striking twelve, I thought it right to take +my leave first, so as to create no suspicion of too great familiarity +in the mind of a friend and visitor of older standing than myself in +the house. Silence and one single look were the only reward I received +for my long and ardent expectation and my weary journey; but I bore +away with me her image and the certainty of seeing her every day,--that +was enough; it was too much. I wandered a long while on the quays, +baring my breast to the night air, and inhaling it with my lips, to +allay the fever of happiness which possessed me. On my return home, I +found that V---- had been asleep many hours; as for me, it was +daylight, and I had heard the cries of the venders in the streets of +Paris before I closed my eyes. + + * * * * * + +My days were filled with one single thought, which I treasured up in my +heart, and would not even allow my countenance to reveal, as a precious +perfume of which one would fear to let a particle evaporate by exposing +the vase that contains it to the outward air. I used to rise with the +first rays of light, which always penetrated tardily into the dark +alcove of the little ante-room where my friend gave me shelter like a +mendicant of love. I always began the day by a long letter to Julie, +which was but a calmer continuation of the conversation of the day +before; in it I poured forth all the thoughts that had suggested +themselves since I had left her. Love feels delightful remorse at its +tender omissions; accuses, reproaches itself, and feels no rest till +they have been repaired. They are gems fallen from the heart or the +lips of the loved one, which cause the lover's thoughts to travel back +over the past, to gather them up, and to increase the treasure of his +feelings. Julie, when she awoke, received my letter, which made it +appear to her as though the conversation of the preceding evening had +not been interrupted, but had been kept up in whispered tones during +her sleep. I always received her answer before noon. + +My heart being thus appeased, after the agitation of the night, my next +thought was to calm the impatience for the evening's interview, which +began to take possession of me. I strove not to divert my heart from +its one thought, but to interest my eyes and mind, and had laid down as +a law to myself to spend several hours in reading and study, to occupy +the interval between the time when I left Julie till we met again. I +wished to improve myself not for others, but for her,--in order that he +whom she loved should not disgrace her preference; and that those +superior men who composed her society, and who sometimes saw me in her +drawing-room standing at a corner of the fireplace, like a statue of +contemplation, should discover in me, if by chance they spoke to me, a +soul, an intelligence, a hope, or a promise, beneath my timid and +silent appearance. Then I had vague dreams of shining exploits, of a +stirring destiny, which Julie would watch from afar, and rejoice to see +me struggling with men, rising in strength, in greatness, and in power; +I thought she might one day glory secretly in having appreciated me +before the crowd, and in having loved me before posterity. + + + + +LXIII. + + +All this, and still more, my forced leisure, the obsession of one +besetting thought, my contempt for all besides, the want of money to +procure other amusement, and the almost claustral seclusion in which I +lived, disposed me to a life of more intense and eager study than I had +yet led. I passed my whole day seated at a little writing-table, which +was placed beneath the small round window opening on the yard of the +Hôtel Richelieu. The room was heated by a Dutch stove; a screen +enclosed my table and chair, and hid me from the observation of the +young men of fashion who often came to see my friend. In the spacious +yard below there were sounds of carriages, then silence, and now and +then bright rays of winter sun struggling against the grovelling fog of +the streets of Paris, which reminded me a little of the play of light, +the sounds of the wind, and the transparent mists of our mountains. +Sometimes I would see a sweet little boy six or eight years old playing +there; he was the son of the concierge. There was something in his face +which seemed that of a suffering angel; in his fair hair curled on his +forehead, and in his intelligent and ingenuous countenance, that +reminded me of the innocent faces of the children of my own province. +Indeed, I discovered that his family had come originally from a village +near that in which my father resided, had fallen into want, and had +been transplanted to Paris. This child had conceived a fondness for me, +from seeing me always at the window above the rooms his mother +inhabited, and had of his own accord and gratuitously devoted himself +to my service. He executed all my messages; brought me my bread, some +cheese, or the fruit for my breakfast; and went every morning to +purchase my little provisions at the grocer's. I used to take my frugal +repast on my writing-table, in the midst of my open books or +interrupted pages. The child had a black dog, which had been forgotten +at the house by some visitor; this dog had ended like the child by +attaching itself to me, and they could not be made to go down the +little wooden stairs when once they had ascended them. During the +greater part of the day, they lay and played together on the mat at my +feet beneath my table. At a later period I took away the dog with me +from Paris, and kept it many years, as a loving and faithful memento of +those days of solitude. I lost him in 1820, not without tears, in +traversing the forests of the Pontine Marshes between Rome and +Terracina. The poor child is become a man, and has learned the art of +engraving, which he practices ably at Lyons. My name having resounded +since, even in his shop, he came to see me, and wept with joy at +beholding me, and with grief at hearing of the loss of the dog. Poor +heart of man! that ever requires what it has once loved, and that sheds +tears of the same water, for the loss of an empire, or for the loss of +an animal. + + + + +LXIV. + + +During the thousands of hours in which I was thus confined between the +stove, the screen, the window, the child, and the dog, I read over all +that antiquity has written and bequeathed to us, except the poets, with +whom we had been surfeited at school, and in whose verses our wearied +eyes saw but the caæsura, and the long or short syllables. Sad effect +of premature satiety, which withers in the mind of a child the most +brightly tinted and perfumed flowers of human thought. But I read over +every philosopher, orator, and historian, in his own language. I loved +especially those who united the three great faculties of +intelligence,--narration, eloquence, and reflection; the fact, the +discourse, and the moral. Thucydides and Tacitus above all others; then +Machiavelli, the sublime practitioner of the diseases of empires; then +Cicero, the sonorous vessel which contains all, from the individual +tears of the man, the husband, the father, and the friend, up to the +catastrophes of Rome and of the world, even to his gloomy forebodings +of his own fate. There is in Cicero a stratum of divine philosophy and +serenity, through which all waters seem to be filtrated and clarified, +and through which his great mind flows in torrents of eloquence, +wisdom, piety, and harmony. I had, till then, thought him a great but +empty speaker, with little sense contained in his long periods; I was +mistaken. Next to Plato, he is the word of antiquity made man; his +style is the grandest of any language. We suppose him meagre, because +his drapery is so magnificent; but strip him of his purple and you will +still find a vast mind, which has felt, understood, and said, all that +there was to comprehend, to feel, or to say, in his day in Rome. + + + + +LXV. + + +As to Tacitus, I did not even attempt to combat my partiality for him. +I preferred him even to Thucydides, the Demosthenes of history. +Thucydides relates, but does not give life and being. Tacitus is not +the historian, but a compendium of mankind. His narration is the +counter-blow of the fact in the heart of a free, virtuous, and feeling +man. The shudder that one feels as one reads not only passes over the +flesh, but is a shudder of the heart. His sensibility is more than +emotion,--it is pity; his judgments are more than vengeance,--they are +justice; his indignation is more than anger,--it is virtue. Our hearts +mingle with that of Tacitus, and we feel proud of our kindred with him. +Would you make crime impossible to your sons? Would you inspire them +with the love of virtue? Rear them in the love of Tacitus. If they do +not become heroes at such a school, Nature must have created them base +or vile. A people who adopted Tacitus as their political gospel would +rise above the common stature of nations; such a people would enact +before God the tragical drama of mankind in all its grandeur and in all +its majesty. As to me, I owe to his writings more than the fibres of +the flesh, I owe all the metallic fibres of my being. Should our vulgar +and commonplace days ever rise to the tragic grandeur of his time, and +I become the worthy victim of a worthy cause, I might exclaim in dying, +"Give the honor of my life and of my death to the master, and not to +the disciple, for it is Tacitus that lived, and dies in me." + + + + +LXVI. + + +I was also a passionate admirer of orators. I studied them with the +presentiment of a man who would one day have to speak to the deaf +multitude, and who would strike the chords of human auditors. I studied +Demosthenes, Cicero, Mirabeau, and especially Lord Chatham,--more +striking to my mind than all the rest, because his inspired and lyrical +eloquence seems more like a cry than like a voice. It soars above his +limited audience and the passions of the day, on the loftiest wings of +poetry, to the immutable regions of eternal truth and of eternal +feeling. Chatham receives truth from the hand of God; and with him it +becomes, not only the light, but also the thunder of the debate. +Unfortunately, as in the case of Phidias at the Parthenon, we have only +fragments, heads, arms, and mutilated trunks left of him. But when in +thought we reassemble these remains, we produce marvels and divinities +of eloquence. I pictured to myself times, events, and passions, like +those which upraised these great men, a forum such as that they filled; +and like Demosthenes addressing the billows of the sea, I spoke +inwardly to the phantoms of my imagination. + + + + +LXVII. + + +About this period I read for the first time the speeches of Fox and +Pitt. I thought Fox declamatory, though prosaic; one of those cavilling +minds, born to gainsay, rather than to say,--lawyers without gowns, +with mere lip-conscience, who plead above all for their own popularity. +I saw in Pitt a statesman whose words were deeds, and who in the crash +of Europe maintained his country, almost alone, on the foundation of +his good sense, and the consistency of his character. Pitt was +Mirabeau, with less impulse and more integrity. Mirabeau and Pitt +became, and have ever continued to be, my favorite statesmen of modern +days. Compared to them, I saw in Montesquieu only erudite, ingenious, +and systematical dissertations; Fénelon seemed to me divine, but +chimerical; Rousseau, more impassioned than inspired, greater by +instinct than by truth; while Bossuet, with his golden eloquence and +fawning soul, united, in his conduct and his language before Louis +XIV., doctoral despotism with the complaisance of a courtier. From +these studies of history and oratory I naturally passed on to politics. +The remembrance of the imperial yoke which had just been shaken off, +and my abhorrence of the military rule to which we had been subjected, +impelled me towards liberty. On the other hand, family recollections; +the influence of daily associations; the touching situation of a royal +family, passing from a throne to a scaffold or to exile, and brought +back from exile to a throne; the orphan princess in the palace of her +fathers; those old men, crowned by misfortune as much as by their +ancestry; those young princes, schooled by stern adversity, from whom +so much might be expected,--all made me hope that new-born liberty +might be made to accord with the ancient monarchy of our forefathers. +The government would thus have possessed the two most potent spells in +all human affairs,--antiquity and novelty; memory and hope. It was a +fair dream, and most natural at my age. Each succeeding day, however, +dispelled a portion of that dream. I perceived with grief that old +forms but ill contain new ideas; that monarchy and liberty would never +hold together in one bond without a perpetual struggle; that in that +struggle the strength of the state would be exhausted, that monarchy +would be constantly suspected, liberty constantly betrayed. + + + + +LXVIII. + + +From these general studies I turned to another that perhaps engrossed +my mind the more from the very aridity and dryness of its nature, so +far removed from the intoxication of love and fancy in which I lived. I +mean political economy, or the science of the Wealth of Nations. + +V---- had applied his mind to it with more curiosity than ardor. All +the Italian, English, or French books that had been written on the +science lined his shelves and covered his table. We read and discussed +them together, noting down the remarks that they suggested. The science +of political economy, which at that time laid down, as it still does in +the present day, more axioms than truths, and proposed more problems +than it can solve, had for us precisely the charm of mystery. It +became, moreover, between us an endless theme for those conversations +which exercise the intelligence without engrossing the mind, and suffer +us to feel, even while conversing, the presence of the one secret and +continuous thought concealed in the inmost recesses of our hearts. It +was an enigma of which we sought the answer without any great desire to +find it. After having read, examined, and noted all that constituted +the science at that time, I fancied I could discern a few theoretical +principles true in their generality, doubtful in their application, +ambitiously aspiring to be classed among absolute truths, often hollow +or false in their formula. I had no objection to make, but my +instinctive desire of demonstration was not thoroughly satisfied. I +threw down the books and awaited the light. Political economy at that +time did not exist; being an entirely experimental science, it had +neither sufficient maturity nor long standing to affirm so positively. +Since then it has progressed and promises to statesmen a few dogmas +which may be applied cautiously to society, a few sources of general +comfort, and some new ties of fraternity, to be strengthened between +nations. + + + + +LXIX. + + +I varied these serious pursuits with the study of diplomacy or the laws +of intercourse between governments, which had always attracted me from +my early youth. Chance directed me to the fountain-head. At the time +that I applied myself to political economy I had written a pamphlet of +about a hundred pages, on a subject which at that period attracted a +great share of public attention. The title of the pamphlet was: "What +place can the nobility occupy in France under a constitutional +government?" I treated this question, which was a most delicate one at +the time, with the instinctive good sense that Nature had allotted to +me, and with the impartiality of a youthful mind, soaring without +effort above the vanities from on high, the envy from below, and the +prejudices of his day. I spoke with love of the people, with +intelligence of our institutions, and with respect of that historic +nobility whose names were long the name of France herself, on her +battlefields, in her magistracy, and in foreign lands. I was for the +suppression of all privileges of nobility, save the memory of nations, +which cannot be suppressed, and proposed an elective peerage, showing +that in a free country there could be no other nobility than that of +election, which is a perpetual stimulus to public duty, and a temporary +reward of the merit or virtues of its citizens. + +Julie, to whom I had lent the manuscript in order to initiate her in +the labors of my life, had shown it to Monsieur M----, a clever man of +her intimate acquaintance, for whose judgment she entertained the +greatest deference. M. M---- was the worthy son of an illustrious +member of the Constituent Assembly, had been the Emperor's private +secretary, and was now a constitutional royalist. He was one of those +whose minds are never youthful, who enter mature into the world, and +die young, leaving a void in their epoch. M. M----, after reading my +work, asked Julie who was the political man who had written those +pages. She smiled, and confessed that they were the production of a +very young man, who had neither name nor experience, and was quite +unknown in the political world. M. M---- required to see me to believe. +I was introduced to him, and he received me with kindness which +afterwards ripened into a friendship, that remained unchanged until his +death. My work was never printed; but M. M----, in his turn, introduced +me to his friend, M. de Reyneval, a man of luminous understanding, +open-hearted, and of an attractive and cheerful though grave and +laborious mind, who was at that time the life of our foreign policy. He +died, not long ago, while ambassador at Madrid. M. de Reyneval, who had +read my work, received me with that encouraging grace and cordial smile +which seems to overleap distance, and always wins at first sight the +heart of a young man. He was one of those men from whom it is pleasant +to learn, because they seem, so to speak, to diffuse themselves in +teaching, and to give rather than prescribe. One learned more of Europe +in a few mornings by conversing with this most agreeable man, than in a +whole diplomatic library. He possessed tact, the innate genius of +negotiations. I owe to him my taste for those high political affairs +which he handled with full consciousness of their importance, but +without seeming to feel their weight. His strength made everything +easy, and his ready condescension seemed to infuse grace and heart into +business. He encouraged my desire to enter on the diplomatic career, +presented me himself to the Director of the Archives, M. d'Hauterive, +and authorized him to allow me access to the collection of our treaties +and negotiations. M. d'Hauterive, who had grown old over despatches, +might be said to be the unalterable tradition and the living dogma of +our diplomacy. With his commanding figure, hollow voice, his thick and +powdered hair, his long, bushy eyebrows overshading a deep-set and dim +eye, he seemed a living, speaking century. He received me like a +father, and appeared happy to transmit to me the inheritance of all his +hoarded knowledge; he made me read, and take notes under his own eye, +and twice a week I used to study for a few hours under his direction. I +love the memory of his green old age, which so prodigally bestowed its +experience on a young man whose name he scarcely knew. M. d'Hauterive +died during the battle of July, 1830, amid the roar of the cannon which +annihilated the policy of the Bourbons and the treaties of 1815. + + + + +LXX. + + +Such were my studious and retired habits in my little room. I wished +for nothing more; my desire to enter on some career was in truth but my +mother's ambition for me, and the regret of expending the price of her +diamond, without some compensation in my bettered condition. If at that +time I had been offered an embassy to quit Paris, and a palace to leave +my truckle-bed in the ante-room, I would have closed my eyes not to +see, and my ears not to listen to Fortune. I was too happy in my +obscurity, thanks to the ray, invisible to others, which warmed and +illumined my darkness. + +My happiness dawned as the day declined. I habitually dined at home +alone in my cell, and my repast generally consisted of a slice of +boiled meat, some salad, and bread. I drank water only, to save the +expense of even a little wine, so necessary to correct the insipid and +often unwholesome water of Paris. By this means, twenty sous a day paid +for my dinner, and this meal was sufficient not only for myself but to +feed the dog who had adopted me. After dinner, I used to throw myself +on my bed, overcome by the application and solitude of the day, and +strove thus to abridge by sleep the long, dark hours which yet divided +me from the moment when time commenced for me. These were hours which +young men of my age spend in theatres, public places, or the expensive +amusements of a capital, as I had done before my transformation. I +generally awaked about eleven, and then dressed with the simplicity of +a young man whose good looks and figure set off his plain attire. I was +always neatly shod, besides having white linen and a black coat, +carefully brushed by my own hands, which I buttoned up to the throat, +after the fashion of the young disciples of the schools of the Middle +Ages. A military cloak, whose ample folds were thrown over my left +shoulder, preserved my dress from being splashed in the streets, and, +on the whole, my plain and unpretending costume, which neither aspired +to elegance nor betrayed my distress, admitted of my passing from my +solitude to a drawing-room without either attracting or offending the +eye of the indifferent. I always went on foot; for the price of one +evening's coach-hire would have cost me a day of my life of love. I +walked on the pavement, keeping close along the walls to avoid the +contact of carriage-wheels, and proceeded slowly on tip-toe for fear of +the mud, which in a well-lighted drawing-room would have betrayed the +humble pedestrian. I was in no hurry, for I knew that Julie received +every evening some of her husband's friends, and I preferred waiting +till the last carriage had driven away before I knocked. This reserve +on my part arose not only from the fear of the remarks which might be +made concerning my constant presence in the house of so young and +lovely a woman, but, above all, from my dislike to share with others +her looks and words. It seemed to me that each of those with whom she +was obliged to keep up a conversation robbed me of some part of her +presence or her mind. To see her, to hear her, and not to possess her +alone, were often a harder trial to me than not to see her at all. + + + + +LXXI. + + +To pass away the time I used to walk from one end to the other of a +bridge which crossed the Seine nearly opposite to the house where Julie +lived. How many thousand times I have reckoned the boards of that +bridge, which resounded beneath my feet! How many copper coins I have +thrown, as I passed and repassed, into the tin cup of the poor blind +man, who was seated through rain or snow on the parapet of that bridge! +I prayed that my mite which rung in the heart of the poor, and from +thence in the ear of God, might purchase for me in return a long and +secure evening, and the departure of some intruder who delayed my +happiness. + +Julie, who knew my dislike to meeting strangers at her house, had +devised with me a signal which should inform me from afar of the +presence or absence of visitors in her little drawing-room. When they +were numerous, the two inside shutters of the window were closed, and I +could only see a faint streak of light glimmering between the two +leaves; when there were one or two familiar friends, on the point of +leaving, one shutter was opened; and at last, when all were gone, the +two shutters were thrown open, the curtains withdrawn, and I could see +from the opposite quay the light of the lamp which stood on the little +table, where she read or worked while expecting me. I never lost sight +of that distant ray, which was visible and intelligible for me alone, +amid the thousand lights of windows, lamps, shops, carriages, and +_cafés_, and among all those avenues of fixed or wandering fires which +illumine at night the buildings and the horizon of Paris. All other +illuminations no longer existed for me,--there was no other light on +earth, no other star in the firmament but that small window, which +seemed like an open eye seeking me out in darkness, and on which my +eyes, my thoughts, my soul, were ever and solely bent. O +incomprehensible power of the infinite nature of man, which can fill +the universal space and think it too confined; or can be concentrated +in one bright speck shining through the river mists, amid the ocean of +fires of a vast city, and feel its desires, feelings, intelligence, and +love bounded by that small spark which scarce outshines the glowworm of +a summer's evening! How often have I thus thought as I paced the +bridge, muffled in my cloak! How often have I exclaimed, as I gazed at +that oval window shining in the distance: Let all the fires of earth be +quenched, let all the luminous globes of the firmament be extinguished, +but may that feeble light--the mysterious star of our two lives--shine +on forever; its glimmering would illumine countless worlds, and suffice +my eyes through all eternity! + +Alas, since then I have seen this star of my youth expire, this burning +focus of my eyes and heart extinguished! I have seen the shutters of +the window closed for many a long year on the funereal darkness of that +little room. One year, one day, I saw them once more opened. I looked +to see who dared to live where she had lived before; and then I saw, in +summer time, at that same window, bathed in sunshine and adorned with +flowers, a young woman whom I did not know playing and smiling with a +new-born child, unconscious that she played upon a grave, that her +smiles were turned to tears in the eyes of a passer-by, and that so +much life seemed as a mockery of death.... Since then, at night, I have +returned; and every year I still return, approach that wall with +faltering steps, and touch that door; and then I sit on the stone +bench, and watch the lights, and listen to the voices from above. I +sometimes fancy that I see the light reflected from her lamp; that I +hear the tones of her voice; that I can knock at that door; that she +expects me; that I can go in--...O Memory, art thou a gift from Heaven, +or pain of Hell!...But I resume my story, since you, my friend, desire +it. + + + + +LXXII. + + +The day after my arrival, Julie had introduced me to the old man, who +was to her a father, and whose latter days she brightened with the +radiance of her mind, her tenderness, and her beauty. He received me as +a son. He had learned from her our meeting in Savoy, our fraternal +attachment, our daily correspondence, and the affinity of our minds, as +shown by the conformity of our tastes, ages, and feelings. He knew the +entire purity of our attachment, and felt no jealousy, or any anxiety, +save for the life, the happiness, and reputation of his ward. He only +feared she might have been attracted and deceived by that first look, +which is sometimes a revelation, and sometimes a delusion of the young, +and that she might have bestowed her heart on a man of the creation of +her fancy. My letters, from which she had read him several passages, +had somewhat reassured him, but it was only from my countenance he +could learn whether they were an artful or natural expression of my +feelings; for style may deceive, but the countenance never can. + +The old man surveyed me with that anxious attention which is often +concealed under an appearance of momentary abstraction. But as he saw +me more, and questioned me, I could see his searching look clear up, +betray an inward satisfaction, soften gradually into one of confidence +and good-will, and rest upon me with that security and caress of the +eye, which though a mute is perhaps the best reception at a first +interview. My ardent desire to please him; the timidity so natural to a +young man, who feels that the fate of his heart depends on the judgment +passed upon him; the fear that it might not be favorable; the presence +of Julie, which disconcerted though it encouraged me; and all the +shades of thought so plainly legible in my modest attitude and my +flushed cheeks,--spoke in my favor better than I could have done +myself. The old man took my hand with a paternal gesture, and said, +"Compose yourself; and consider that you have two friends in this +house, instead of one. Julie could not have better chosen a brother, +and I would not choose another son." He embraced me, and we talked +together as if he had known me from my childhood, until an old servant +came at ten o'clock, according to his invariable custom, to give him +the help of his arm on the stair, and lead him back to his own +apartment. + + + + +LXXIII. + + +His was a beautiful and attractive old age, to which nothing was +wanting but the security of a morrow. It was so disinterested and +parental, that it in no wise offended the eye, though associated with a +young and lovely woman. It was as an evening shade upon the bloom of +morning; but one felt that it was a protecting shade, sheltering but +not withering her youth, beauty, and innocence. The features of this +celebrated man were regular as the pure outline of antique profiles +which time emaciates slightly, but cannot impair. His blue eyes had +that softened but penetrating expression of worn-out sight, as if they +looked through a slight haze. There was an arch expression of implied +meaning in his mouth; and his smile was playful as that of a father to +his little children. His hair, which age and study had thinned, was +soft and fine, like the down of a swan. His hands were white and taper +as the marble hands of the statue of Seneca taking his dying leave of +Paulina. There were no wrinkles on his face, which had become thin and +pale from the long labor of the mind, for it had never been plump. A +few blue and bloodless veins might be traced on the depressed temples; +the light of the fire was reflected on the forehead,--that latest +beauty of man, which thought chisels and polishes unceasingly. There +was in the cheek that delicacy of skin,--that transparency of a face +which has grown old within the shade of walls, and which neither wind +nor sun have ever tanned; the complexion of woman, which gives an +effeminacy to the countenance of old men, and the ethereal, fragile, +and impalpable appearance of a vision, that the slightest breath might +dispel. His calm and well-weighed expressions, naturally set in clear, +concise, and lucid phrase, had all the precision of one who has been +used to careful selection in clothing his thoughts for writing or +dictation. His sentences were interrupted by long pauses, as if to +allow time for them to penetrate the ear, and to be appreciated by the +mind of the listener; he relieved them, every now and then, by graceful +pleasantry, never degenerating into coarseness, as though he purposely +upheld the conversation on these light and sportive wings, to prevent +its being borne down by the weight of too continuous ideas. + + + + +LXXIV. + + +I soon learned to love this charming and talented old man. If I am +destined to attain old age, I should wish to grow old like him. There +was but one thing grieved me as I looked at him,--it was to see him +advancing towards death, without believing in Immortality. The natural +sciences that he had so deeply studied had accustomed his mind to trust +exclusively to the evidence of his senses. Nothing existed for him that +was not palpable; what could not be calculated contained no element of +certitude in his eyes; matter and figures composed his universe; +numbers were his god; the phenomena of Nature were his revelations, +Nature herself his Bible and his gospel; his virtue was instinct, not +seeing that numbers, phenomena, Nature, and virtue are but hieroglyphs +inscribed on the veil of the temple, whose unanimous meaning is--Deity. +Sublime but stubborn minds, who wonderfully ascend the steps of +science, one by one,--but will never pass the last, which leads to God. + + + + +LXXV. + + +This second father very soon became so fond of me, that he proposed to +give me occasionally, in his library, some lessons in those elevated +sciences which had rendered him illustrious, and now constituted his +chief relaxation. I went to him sometimes in the morning; Julie would +come at the same hours. It was a rare and touching spectacle to see +that old man seated in the midst of his books,--a monument of human +learning and philosophy, of which he had exhausted all the pages during +his long life,--discovering the mysteries of Nature and of thought to a +youth who stood beside him; while a woman, young and lovely as that +ideal philosophy, that loving wisdom,--the Beatrice of the poet of +Florence,--attended as his first disciple, and was the fellow-learner +of that younger brother. She brought the books, turned over the page, +and marked the chapters with her extended rosy finger; she moved amid +the spheres, the globes, the instruments, and the heaps of volumes, in +the dust of human knowledge; and seemed the soul of Nature disengaging +itself from matter, to kindle it and teach it to burn and love. + +I learned and understood more in a few days than in years of dry and +solitary study; but the frequent infirmities of age in the master too +often interrupted these morning lessons. + + + + +LXXVI. + + +I invariably spent a part of my night in the company of her who was to +me both night and day, time and eternity. As I have already said, I +always arrived when importunate visitors had left the drawing-room. +Sometimes I remained long hours on the quay or on the bridge, walking +or standing still by turns, and waiting in vain for the inside shutter +to open and to give the mute signal on which we had agreed. How have I +watched the sluggish waters of the Seine beneath the arches of the +bridge, bearing away in their course the trembling rays of the moon, or +the reflected light of the windows of the city. How many hours and half +hours have I not reckoned as they sounded from the near or distant +churches, and cursed their slowness or accused their speed! I knew the +tones of every brazen voice in the towers of Paris. There were lucky +and unlucky days. Sometimes I went in, without waiting an instant, and +only found her husband with her, who spent in lively talk, or friendly +conversation, the hours that unbent and prepared him for sleep. At +other times I only met one or two friends; they dropped in for a short +time, bringing the news or the excitement of the day, and devoted to +friendship the first hours of their evening, which they generally +concluded in some political drawing-room. These were in general +parliamentary men, eminent orators of the two chambers,--Suard, Bonald, +Mounier, Reyneval, Lally-Tolendal, the old man with the youthful mind, +and Lainé. This latter was the most perfect copy of ancient eloquence +and virtue that I have seen to venerate in modern times; he was a Roman +in heart, in eloquence, and in appearance, and wanted but the toga to +be the Cicero or the Cato of his day. I felt peculiar admiration and +tender respect for this personification of a good citizen; he, in his +turn, took notice of me, and often distinguished me by some look and +word of preference. He has since been my master; and if one day I had +to serve my country, or to ascend a tribune, the remembrance of his +patriotism and his eloquence would be ever present to me as a model +that I could not hope to equal, but might imitate at a distance. + +These men came round the little work-table in turn, while Julie sat +half reclined upon the sofa. I remained silent and respectful in one +corner of the room, far from her, listening, reflecting, admiring, or +disapproving inwardly, but scarcely opening my lips unless questioned, +and only joining in the conversation by a few timid and cautious words +said in a low tone. With a strong conviction on most subjects, I have +always felt an extreme shyness in expressing it before such men; they +appeared to me infinitely my superiors from age and in authority. +Respect for time, for genius, and for fame is part of my nature,--a ray +of glory dazzles me; white hairs awe me; an illustrious name bows me +voluntarily before it. I have often lost something of my real value by +this timidity, but nevertheless I have never regretted it. The +consciousness of the superiority of others is a good feeling in youth, +as at all ages, for it elevates the ideal standard to which we aspire. +Self-confidence in youth is an overweening insolence towards time and +Nature. If the feeling of the superiority of others is a delusion, it +is at least a delusion which raises human nature, and is better than +that which lowers it. Alas, we but too soon reduce it to its true but +sad proportions. + +These visitors at first paid little attention to me. I used to see them +stoop towards Julie, and ask, in a low tone, who I was. My thoughtful +countenance and my immovable and modest attitude seemed to surprise and +please them; insensibly they drew towards me, or seemed by a gracious +and encouraging gesture to address some of their remarks to me. It was +an indirect invitation to take my share in the conversation. I said a +few words in grateful recognition, but I soon relapsed into my silence +and obscurity, for fear of prolonging the conversation by keeping it +up. I considered them merely as the frame of a picture; the only real +interest I felt was in the face, the speech, and the mind of her from +whom I was shut out by their presence. + + + + +LXXVII. + + +What inward joy, what throbbing of the heart, when they retired, and +when I heard beneath the gateway the rolling of the carriage which bore +away the last of them! We were then alone; the night was far advanced; +our security increased at every move of the minute hand as it +approached the figure that marked midnight on the dial. Nothing was to +be heard but the sound of a few carriages, which, at rare intervals, +rattled over the stones of the quay, or the deep breathing of the old +concierge, who was stretched sleeping on a bench in the vestibule at +the foot of the stairs. + +We would first look at each other, as if surprised at our happiness. I +would draw nearer to the table where Julie worked by the light of the +lamp. The work soon fell from her unheeding hands; our looks expanded, +our lips were unsealed, our hearts overflowed. Our choked and hurried +words, like the flow of water impeded by too narrow an opening, were at +first slowly poured forth, and the torrent of our thoughts trickled out +drop by drop. We could not select, among the many things we had to say, +those we most wished to impart to each other. Sometimes there was a +long silence, caused by the confusion and excess of crowded thoughts +which accumulated in our hearts and could not escape. Then they began +to flow slowly, like those first drops which show that the cloud is +about to dissolve or burst; these words called forth others in +response; one voice led on the other, as a falling child draws his +companion with him. Our words mingled without order, without answer, +and without connection; neither of us would yield the happiness of +outstripping the other in the expression of one common feeling. We +fancied that we had first felt what we disclosed of our thoughts since +the evening's conversation, or the morning's letter. At last this +tumultuous overflow, at which we laughed and blushed, after a time +subsided, and gave place to a calm effusion of the lips, which poured +forth together, or alternately, the plenitude of their expressions. It +was a continuous and murmuring transfusion of one soul into +another,--an unreserved interchange of our two natures,--a complete +transmutation of one into another, by the reciprocal communication of +all that breathed, or lived, or burned within us. Never, perhaps, did +two beings as irreproachable in their looks, or in their very thoughts, +bare their hearts to one another more unreservedly, and reveal the +mysterious depths of their feelings. The innocent nudity of our souls +was chaste, though unveiled, as light that discovers all, yet sullies +nothing. We had nought to reveal but the spotless love which purified +as it consumed us. + +Our love, by its very purity, was incessantly renewed, with the same +light of soul, the same unsullied transports of its first bloom. Each +day was like the first; every instant was as that ineffable moment when +we felt it dawn within us, and saw it reflected in the heart and looks +of another self. Our love would always preserve its flower and its +perfume, for the fruit could never be culled. + + + + +LXXVIII. + + +Of all the different means by which God has allowed soul to communicate +with soul, through the transparent barrier of the senses, there was not +one that our love did not employ to manifest itself,--from the look +which conveys most of ourselves, in an almost ethereal ray, to the +closed lids, which seem to enfold within us the image we have received, +that it may not evaporate; from languor to delirium, from the sigh to +the loud cry; from the long silence to those exhaustless words which +flow from the lips without pause and without end, which stop the +breath, weary the tongue, which we pronounce without hearing them, and +which have no other meaning than an impotent effort to say, again and +again, what can never be said enough.... + +Many a time did we talk thus for hours, in whispered tones, leaning on +the little table close to each other, without perceiving that our +conversation had lasted more than the space of a single aspiration; +quite surprised to find that the minutes had flown as swiftly as our +words, and that the clock struck the inexorable hour of parting. + +Sometimes there would be interrogations and answers as to our most +fugitive shades of thought and nature, dialogues in almost unheard +whispers, articulate sighs rather than audible words, blushing +confessions of our most secret inward repinings, joyful exclamations of +surprise at discovering in us both the same impressions reflected from +one another, as light in reverberations, the blow in the counterblow, +the form in the image. We would exclaim, rising by a simultaneous +impulse, "We are not two; we are one single being under two illusive +natures! Which will say you unto the other; which will say I? There is +no _I_; there is no _you_; but only _we_." ... We would then sink down, +overcome with admiration at this wonderful conformity, weeping with +delight at this twofold existence, and at having doubled our lives by +consecrating them to each other. + + + + +LXXIX. + + +Most generally we used to travel back over the past, step by step, and +recall with scrupulous minuteness every place, circumstance, and hour +which had brought on, or marked the beginning of our love,--like some +young girl who has scattered by the way the unstrung pearls of her +precious necklace, and returns upon her steps, her eyes bent upon the +ground, to find and gather them up, one by one. We would not lose the +recollection of one of those places, or one of those hours, for fear of +losing at the same time the hoarded memory of a single joy. We +remembered the mountains of Savoy; the valley of Chambéry; the torrents +and the lake; the mossy ground, sometimes in shade and sometimes +dappled with light, beneath the outstretched arms of the +chestnut-trees; the rays between the branches, the glimpse of sky +through the leafy dome above our heads, the blue expanse and the white +sails at our feet; our first unsought meetings in the mountain paths; +our mutual conjectures; our encounters on the lake before we knew each +other, sailing in our boats in contrary directions, her dark hair +waving in the wind, my indifferent attitude; our looks averted from the +crowd; the double enigma that we were to each other, of which the +answer was to be eternal love; then the fatal day of the tempest, and +her fainting; the mournful night of prayers and tears; the waking in +heaven; our return together by moonlight through the avenue of poplars, +her hand in mine; her warm tears which my lips had drunk, the first +words in which our souls had spoken; our joys, our parting,--we +remembered all. + +We never wearied of these details. It was as though we had related some +story which was not our own. But what was there henceforth in the +universe save ourselves? O inexhaustible curiosity of love, thou art +not only a childish delight of the hour, thou art love itself, which +never tires of contemplating what it possesses, treasures up every +impression, each hair, each thrill, each blush, each sigh of the loved +one, as a reason for loving more, as a means of feeding anew with each +memory the flame of enthusiasm, in which it joys to be consumed! + + + + + +LXXX. + + +Julie's tears would sometimes suddenly flow from a strange sadness. She +knew me condemned, by this concealed though to us ever-present death, +to behold in her but a phantom of happiness, which would vanish ere I +could press it to my heart. She grieved and accused herself for having +inspired me with a passion which could never bring me joy. "Oh, that I +could die, die soon, die young, and still beloved!" would she say. +"Yes, die, as I can be to you but the bitter delusion of love and joy; +at once your rapture and your woe. Ah, the divinest joys and the most +cruel anguish are mingled in my destiny! Oh, that love would kill me; +and that you might survive to love after me, as your nature and your +heart should love! In dying, I shall be less wretched than I am while +feeling that I live by your sacrifices, and doom your youth and your +love to a perpetual death!" + +"Oh, blaspheme not against such ineffable joy!" I exclaimed, placing my +trembling hands beneath her eyes to receive her fast dropping tears. +"What base idea have you conceived of him whom God has thought worthy +to meet, to understand, and to love you? Are there not more oceans of +tenderness and love in this tear which falls warm from your heart, and +which I carry to my lips as the life's blood of our tortured love, than +in the thousand sated desires and guilty pleasures in which are +engulfed such vile attachments as you regret for me? Have I ever seemed +to you to desire aught else than this twofold suffering? Does it not +make of us both voluntary and pure victims? Is it not an eternal +holocaust of love, such as, from Heloise to us, the angels can scarce +have witnessed? Have I ever once reproached the Almighty, even in the +madness of my solitary nights, for having raised me by you, and for +you, above the condition of man? He has given me in you, not a woman to +be polluted by the embrace of these mortal arms, but an impalpable and +sacred incarnation of immaterial beauty. Does not the celestial fire, +which night and day burns so rapturously within me, consume all dross +of vulgar desire? Am I aught but flame? A flame as pure and holy as the +rays of your soul which first kindled it, and now feed it unceasingly +through your beaming eye! Ah, Julie, estimate yourself more worthily, +and weep not over sorrows which you imagine you inflict on me! I do not +suffer. My life is one perpetual overflow of happiness, filled by you +alone,--a repose of sense, a sleep of which you are the dream. You have +transformed my nature. I suffer? Oh, would that I could sometimes +suffer, that I might have somewhat to offer unto God, were it but the +consciousness of a privation, the bitterness of a tear, in return for +all he has given me in you! To suffer for you, might, perchance, be the +only thing which could add one drop to that cup of happiness which it +is given me to quaff. To suffer thus, is it to suffer, or to enjoy? No; +thus to live, is, in truth, to die, but it is to die some years earlier +to this wretched life, to live beforehand of the life of heaven." + + + + +LXXXI. + + +She believed it, and I myself believed it, as I spoke and raised my +hands imploringly towards her. We would part after such converse as +this, each preserving, to feed on it separately till the morrow, the +impression of the last look, the echo of the last tone, that were to +give us patience to live through the long, tedious day. When I had +crossed the threshold, I would see her open her window, lean forth amid +her flowers on the iron bar of the balcony, and follow my receding +figure as long as the misty vapors of the Seine allowed her to discern +it on the bridge. Again and again would I turn to send back a sigh and +a lingering look, and strive to tear away my soul, which would not be +parted from her. It seemed as if my very being were riven asunder,--my +spirit to return and dwell with her, while my body alone, as a mere +machine, slowly wended its way through the dark and deserted streets to +the door of the hotel where I dwelt. + + + + +LXXXII. + + +Thus passed away, without other change than that afforded by my +studies, and our ever-varying impressions, the delightful months of +winter. They were drawing to a close. The early splendors of spring +already began to glance fitfully from the roofs upon the damp and +gloomy wilderness of the streets of Paris. My friend V----, recalled by +his mother, was gone, and had left me alone in the little room where he +had harbored me during my stay. He was to return in the autumn, and had +paid for the lodging for a whole year, so that, though absent, he still +extended to me his brotherly hospitality. It was with sorrow I saw him +depart; none remained to whom I could speak of Julie. The burden of my +feelings would now be doubly heavy, when I could no longer relieve +myself by resting it on the heart of another; but it was a weight of +happiness,--I could still uphold it. It was soon to become a load of +anguish, which I could confide to no living being, and least of all to +her whom I loved. + +My mother wrote me, that straightened means, caused by unexpected +reverses of fortune, which had fallen on my father in quick and harsh +succession, had reduced to comparative indigence our once open and +hospitable paternal home, obliging my poor father to withhold the half +of my allowance, to enable him to meet, and that only with much +difficulty, the expense of maintaining and educating six other +children. It was therefore incumbent upon me, she said, either by my +own unaided efforts to maintain myself honorably in Paris, or to return +home and live with resignation in the country, sharing the common +pittance of all. My mother's tenderness sought beforehand to comfort me +under this sad necessity; she dwelt on the joy it would be to her to +see me again, and placed before me, in most attractive colors, the +prospect of the labors and simple pleasures of a rural life. On the +other hand, some of the associates of my early years of gambling and +dissipation, who had now fallen into poverty, having met me in Paris, +reminded me of sundry trifling obligations which I had contracted +towards them, and begged me to come to their assistance. They stripped +me thus, by degrees, of the greater part of that little hoard which I +had saved by strict economy, to enable me to live longer in Paris. My +purse was well-nigh empty, and I began to think of courting fortune +through fame. One morning, after a desperate struggle between timidity +and love, love triumphed. I concealed beneath my coat my small +manuscript, bound in green, containing my verses, my last hope; and +though wavering and uncertain in my design, I turned my steps towards +the house of a celebrated publisher whose name is associated with the +progress of literature and typography in France, Monsieur Didot. I was +first attracted to this name because M. Didot, independently of his +celebrity as a publisher, enjoyed at that time some reputation as an +author. He had published his own verses with all the elegance, pomp and +circumstance of a poet who could himself control the approving voice of +Fame. + +When before M. Didot's door in the Rue Jacob, a door all papered with +illustrious names, a redoubled effort on my part was required to cross +the threshold, another to ascend the stairs, another still more violent +to ring at his door. But I saw the adored image of Julie encouraging +me, and her hand impelled me. I dared do anything. + +I was politely received by M. Didot, a middle-aged man with a precise +and commercial air, whose speech was brief and plain as that of a man +who knows the value of minutes. He desired to know what I had to say to +him. I stammered for some time, and became embarrassed in one of those +labyrinths of ambiguous phrases under which one conceals thoughts that +will and will not come to the point. I thought to gain courage by +gaining time; at last I unbuttoned my coat, drew out the little volume, +and presented it humbly with a trembling hand to M. Didot. I told him +that I had written these verses, and wished to have them +published,--not indeed to bring me fame (I had not that absurd +delusion), but in the hope of attracting the notice and good-will of +influential literary men; that my poverty would not permit of my going +to the expense of printing; and, therefore, I came to submit my work to +him, and request him to publish it, should he, after looking over it, +deem it worthy of the indulgence or favor of cultivated minds. M. Didot +nodded, smiled kindly, but somewhat ironically, took my manuscript +between two fingers, which seemed accustomed to crumple paper +contemptuously, and putting down my verses on the table, appointed me +to return in a week for an answer as to the object of my visit. I took +my leave. The next seven days appeared to me seven centuries. My future +prospects, my favor, my mother's consolation or despair, my love,--in a +word, my life or death, were in the hands of M. Didot. At times, I +pictured him to myself reading my verses with the same rapture that had +inspired me on my mountains, or on the brink of my native torrents; I +fancied he saw in them the dew of my heart, the tears of my eyes, the +blood of my young veins; that he called together his literary friends +to listen to them, and that I heard from my alcove the sound of their +applause. At others, I blushed to think I had exposed to the inspection +of a stranger a work so unworthy of seeing the light; that I had +discovered my weakness and my impotence in a vain hope of success, +which would be changed into humiliation, instead of being converted +into gold and joy within my grasp. Hope, however, as persevering as my +distress, often got the upper hand in my dreams, and led me on from +hour to hour until the day appointed by M. Didot. + + + + +LXXXIII. + + +My heart failed as, on the eighth day, I ascended his stairs. I +remained a long while standing on the landing-place at his door without +daring to ring. At last some one came out, the door was opened, and I +was obliged to go in. M. Didot's face was as unexpressive and as +ambiguous as an oracle. He requested me to be seated, and while looking +for my manuscript, which was buried beneath heaps of papers, "I have +read your verses, sir," he said; "there is some talent in them, but no +study. They are unlike all that is received and appreciated in our +poets. It is difficult to see whence you have derived the language, +ideas and imagery of your poetry, which cannot be classed in any +definite style. It is a pity, for there is no want of harmony. You must +renounce these novelties which would lead astray our national genius. +Read our masters,--Delille, Parny, Michaud, Reynouard, Luce de +Lancival, Fontanes; these are the poets that the public loves. You must +resemble some one, if you wish to be recognized, and to be read. I +should advise you ill if I induced you to publish this volume, and I +should be doing you a sorry service in publishing it at my expense." So +saying, he rose, and gave me back my manuscript. I did not attempt to +contest the point with Fate, which spoke in the voice of the oracle. I +took up the volume, thanked M. Didot, and, offering some excuse for +having trespassed on his time, I went downstairs, my legs trembling +beneath me, and my eyes moistened with tears. + +Ah, if M. Didot, who was a kind and feeling man, a patron of letters, +could have read in my heart, and have understood that it was neither +fame nor fortune that the unknown youth came to beg, with his book in +his hand; that it was life and love I sued for--I am sure he would have +printed my volume. He would have been repaid in heaven, at least. + + + + +LXXXIV. + + +I returned to my room in despair. The child and the dog wondered, for +the first time, at my sullen silence, and at the gloom that overspread +my countenance. I lighted the stove, and threw in, sheet by sheet, my +whole volume, without sparing a single page. "Since thou canst not +purchase for me a single day of life and love," I exclaimed, as I +watched it burning, "what care I if the immortality of my name be +consumed with thee? Love, not fame, is my immortality." + +That same evening, I went out at nightfall. I sold my poor mother's +diamond. Till then I had kept it, in the hope that my verses might have +redeemed its value, and that I might preserve it untouched. As I handed +it to the jeweller, I kissed it by stealth, and wet it with my tears. +He seemed affected himself, and felt convinced that the diamond was +honestly mine by the grief I testified in disposing of it. The thirty +louis he gave me for it fell from my hands as I reckoned them, as if +the gold had been the price of a sacrilege. Oh, how many diamonds, +twenty times superior in price, would I not often have given since, to +repurchase that same diamond, unique in my eyes!--a fragment of my +mother's heart, one of the last teardrops from her eye, the light of +her love!... On what hand does it sparkle now?... + + + + +LXXXV. + + +Spring had returned. The Tuileries cast each morning upon their idlers +the green shade of their leaves, and showered down the fragrant snow of +their horse-chestnut trees. From the bridges I could perceive beyond +the stony horizon of Chaillot and Passy the long line of verdant and +undulating hills of Fleury, Meudon, and St. Cloud. These hills seemed +to rise as cool and solitary islands in the midst of a chalky ocean. +They raised in my heart feelings of remorse and poignant reproach, and +were images and remembrances which awaked the craving after Nature that +had lain dormant for six months. The broken rays of moonlight floated +at night upon the tepid waters of the river, and the dreamy orb opened, +as far as the Seine could be traced, luminous and fantastic vistas +where the eye lost itself in landscapes of shade and vapor. +Involuntarily the soul followed the eye. The front of the shops, the +balconies, and the windows of the quays were covered with vases of +flowers which shed forth their perfume even on the passers-by. At the +corners of the streets, or the ends of the bridges, the flower-girls, +seated behind screens of flowering plants, waved branches of lilac, as +if to embalm the town. In Julie's room the hearth was converted into a +mossy grotto; the consoles and tables had each their vases of +primroses, violets, lilies of the valley, and roses. Poor flowers, +exiles from the fields! Thus swallows who have heedlessly flown into a +room bruise their own wings against the walls, while announcing to the +poor inhabitants of dismal garrets the approach of April and its sunny +days. The perfume of the flowers penetrated to our hearts, and our +thoughts were brought back, under the impression of their fragrance and +the images it evoked, to that Nature in the midst of which we had been +so isolated and so happy. We had forgotten her while the days were +dark, the sky gloomy, and the horizon bounded. Shut up in a small room +where we were all in all to each other, we never thought that there was +another sky, another sun, another nature beyond our own. These fine, +sunny days, glimpses of which we caught from among the roofs of an +immense city, recalled them to our minds. They agitated and saddened +us; they inspired us with an invincible desire to contemplate and to +enjoy them in the forests and solitudes which surround Paris. It seemed +to us while indulging these irresistible longings, and projecting +distant walks together in the woods of Fontainebleau, Vincennes, St. +Germain, and Versailles, that we should be again, as it were, amid the +woods and waters of our Alpine valleys, that at least we should see the +same sun and the same shade and recognize the harmonious sighing of the +same winds in the branches. + +Spring, which was restoring to the sky its transparency and to the +plants their sap, seemed also to give new youth and pulsation to +Julie's heart. The tint upon her cheeks was brighter; her eyes more +blue, their rays more penetrating. There was more emotion in the tone +of her voice; the languor of her frame was relieved by more frequent +sighs; there was more elasticity in her walk, more youthfulness in her +attitudes; even in the stillness of her chamber, a pleasant though +feverish agitation produced a petulant movement of her feet, and sent +the words more hurriedly to her lips. In the evening Julie would undraw +the curtains, and frequently lean forth from her window to take in the +freshness of the water, the rays of the moon, and the breath of the +fragrant breeze which swept along the valley of Meudon, and was wafted +even into the apartments on the quay. + +"Oh, let us give," said I, "a joyous holiday to our hearts amid all our +happiness! Of all God's creatures for whom he reanimates his earth and +his heavens, let not us, the most feeling and the most grateful, be the +only beings for whom they shall have been reanimated in vain! Let us +together dive into that air, that light, that verdure; amid those +sprouting branches, in that flood of life and vegetation, which is even +now inundating the whole earth! Let us go, let us see if naught in the +works of his creation has grown old by the weight of an added day; if +naught in that enthusiasm, which sang and groaned, loved and lamented +within us, on the mountains and on the waters of Savoy, has been +lowered by one ripple or one note!" "Yes, let us go," said she. "We +shall neither feel more, nor love better, nor bless otherwise; but we +shall have made another sky and another spot of earth witness the +happiness of two poor mortals. That temple of our love which was in our +loved mountains only will then be wherever I shall have wandered and +breathed with you." The old man encouraged these excursions to the fine +forests around Paris. He hoped, and the doctors led him to expect, that +the air laden with life, the influence of the sun, which strengthens +all things, with moderate exercise in the open fields, might invigorate +the too sensitive delicacy of Julie's nerves and give elasticity to her +heart. Every sunny day, during the five weeks of early spring, I came +at noon to fetch her. We entered a close carriage in order to avoid the +inquisitive looks and light observations of any of her acquaintances +whom we might chance to meet, or the remarks that even strangers might +have made on seeing so young and lovely a woman alone with a man of my +age; for we were not sufficiently alike to pass for brother and sister. +We left the carriage on the skirts of the woods, at the foot of the +hills, or at the gates of the parks in the environs of Paris, and +sought out at Fleury, at Meudon, at Sèvres, at Satory, and at Vincennes +the longest and most solitary paths, carpeted with turf and flowers, +untrodden by horses' hoofs, except perhaps on the day of a royal hunt. +We never met any one, save a few children or poor women busy with their +knives digging up endive. Occasionally a startled doe would rustle +through the leaves, and springing across the path, after a glance at +us, dive into the thicket. We walked in silence, sometimes preceding +each other, sometimes arm in arm, or we talked of the future, of the +delight it would be to possess one out of all these untenanted acres, +with a keeper's lodge under one of the old oaks. We dreamed aloud. We +picked violets and the wild periwinkle, which we interchanged as +hieroglyphics and preserved in the smooth leaves of the hellebore. To +each of these flowery letters we linked a meaning, a remembrance, a +look, a sigh, a prayer. We kept them to reperuse when parted; they were +destined to recall each precious moment of these blissful hours. + +We often sat in the shade by the side of the path, and opened a book +which we tried to read; but we could never turn the first leaf, and +ever preferred reading in ourselves the inexhaustible pages of our own +feelings. I went to fetch milk and brown bread from some neighboring +farm; we ate, seated on the grass, throwing the remains of the cup to +the ants, and the crumbs of bread to the birds. At sunset we returned +to the tumultuous ocean of Paris, the noise and crowd of which jarred +upon our hearts. I left Julie, excited by the enjoyment of the day, at +her own door, and then went back, overcome with happiness, to my +solitary room, the walls of which I would strike and bid them crumble, +that I might be restored to the light, Nature, and love which they shut +out. I dined without relish, read without understanding; I lighted my +lamp and waited, reckoning the hours as they passed, till the evening +was far enough advanced for me to venture again to her door, and renew +the enjoyment of the morning. + + + + +LXXXVI. + + +The next day we recommenced our wanderings. Ah, in those forests, how +many trees, marked by my knife, bear on their roots or bark a sign by +which I shall ever recognize them! They are those whose shade she +enjoyed; those beneath which she breathed new life, basked in the +warmth of the sun, or inhaled the sweet vernal scent of the trees. The +stranger sees, but dreams not that they are to another the pillars of a +temple, whose worshipper is on earth though its divinity is in heaven. +I still visit them once or twice each spring, on the anniversaries of +these walks; and when the axe lays one low, it seems to me as though it +falls upon myself, and carries away a portion of my heart. + + + + +LXXXVII. + + +On one of the highest and most generally solitary summits of the park +of St. Cloud, where the rounded hill descends in two separate slopes, +one towards the valley of Sèvres, and the other towards the hollow +where the Château stands, there is an open space where three long +avenues meet. From thence the eye discovers from afar the rare +passengers that intrude on the solitude of the place. The hill, like a +promontory, overlooks the plain of Issy, the course of the Seine, and +the road to Versailles; its summit, clothed and overshaded by the +forest which fills up the triangular intervals between the three +avenues, appears like the rounded basin of a lake of which grass and +foliage are the billows. If one looks towards Sèvres, one sees only a +long and sloping meadow stretching down towards the river like a +verdant and undulating cascade, which, after a rapid descent, loses +itself at the bottom of the valley in dark masses of thickets stocked +with deer. Beyond these thickets, on the other side of the Seine, the +blue slated roofs of Meudon, and the waving tops of the majestic trees +of its park, stand out in the blue summer sky. We often came to sit on +this hill, which has all the elevation of a promontory, the silence and +shade of a valley, and the solitude of a desert. The lungs play freer +there; the ear is less disturbed by the sounds of earth; the soul can +better wing its flight beyond the horizon of this life. + +We went there one morning early in May, at the hour when the forest is +peopled only by the deer, which bound and skip in its lonely paths. Now +and then a gamekeeper crosses the extremity of one of the avenues, like +a black speck on the horizon. We sat down under the seventh tree of the +semi-circle round the open space, looking towards the meadows of +Sèvres. Centuries have been required to frame that sturdy oak, and to +bend its gnarled branches; its roots, swelling with sap to nourish and +support its trunk, have burst through the sod at its feet, and form a +moss-covered seat, of which the oak is the back, and its lower leaves +the natural canopy. The morning was as serene and transparent as the +waters of the sea at sunrise under the green headlands of the islands +of the Archipelago. The ardent rays of an almost summer sun fell from +the clear sky on the wooded hill, and then rose again from out of the +thickets in exhalations warm as the waves which expire in the shade +after having imbibed the sunshine. There was no other sound than that +of the fall of some dry leaves of the preceding winter, which, as the +sap rose and throbbed, fell at the foot of the tree, to make room for +the new and tender foliage. Whole flights of birds dashed against the +branches round their nests, and there was one vague, universal hum of +insects that revelled in the light, and rose and fell, like a living +dust, at the least undulation of the flowering grass. + + + + +LXXXVIII. + + +There was so much sympathy between our youth and the youthful year and +day; such entire harmony between the light, the heat, the splendor, the +silence, the gentle sounds, the pensive delights of Nature and our own +sensations; we felt so delightfully mingled with the surrounding air +and sky, life and repose; we were so completely all to each other in +this solitude,--that our exuberant but satisfied thoughts and +sensations sufficed us. We did not even seek for words to express them; +but were as the full vase, whose very plenitude renders its contents +motionless. Our hearts could hold no more; but they were capacious +enough to contain all, and nothing sought to escape from them. Our +breathing was scarcely audible. + +I know not how long we remained thus seated at the foot of the oak, +mute and motionless beside one another, our faces buried in our hands, +our feet in sunshine on the grass, our heads in shade; but when I +raised my eyes the shadows had retreated before us on the grass, beyond +the folds of Julie's dress. I looked at her, she raised her face as if +by the same impulse which had made me raise mine; and gazing at me +without saying a word, she burst into tears. "Why do you weep?" I asked +with anxious emotion, but in a low tone for fear of disturbing or +diverting the course of her silent thoughts. "From happiness," she +answered. Her lips smiled, while big tears rolled down her cheeks in +shining drops, like the dew of spring. "Yes, from happiness," she +resumed. "This day, this hour, this sky, this spot, this peace, this +silence, this solitude with you, this complete assimilation of our two +souls, which no longer require to converse to comprehend each other, +which breathe in the same aspiration is too much,--too much for mortal +nature that excess of joy may kill, as excess of grief, and which, when +it can draw no cry from the heart, grieves that it cannot sigh, and +mourns that it cannot praise sufficiently." + +She stopped for an instant; her cheeks were flushed. I trembled lest +death should seize her in her joy; but her voice soon reassured me. +"Raphael! Raphael!" she exclaimed in a solemn tone, which surprised me, +as if she had been announcing some good tidings, long and anxiously +expected,--"Raphael, there is a God!" "How has he been revealed to you +to-day more clearly than any other day?" I asked. "By love," she +answered, raising slowly to heaven the orbs of her bright, glistening +eyes; "yes, by love, whose torrents have flowed in my heart just now +with a murmuring, gushing fulness that I had never felt before with the +same force, nor yet the same repose. No, I no longer doubt," she +continued in a tone where certitude mingled with joy; "the spring +whence such felicity is poured upon the soul cannot be here below, nor +can it lose itself in this earth after having once gushed forth! There +is a God; there is an eternal love, of which ours is but a drop. We +will together mingle it one day with the divine ocean whence we drew +it! That ocean is God! I see it; feel it; understand it in this instant +by my happiness! Raphael, it is no longer you I love; it is no longer I +you love,--it is God we henceforth adore in one another; you in me, and +I in you, both, in these tears of bliss which reveal to us, and yet +conceal, the immortal fountain of our hearts! Away," she added, with a +still more ardent tone and look,--"away with all the vain names by +which we have hitherto called our attraction towards each other. I know +but one to express it; it is the one which has just been revealed to me +in your eyes: God! God! God!" she exclaimed once more, as though she +had wished to teach her lips a new language. "God is in you; God is in +me for you! God is us; and henceforward the feelings which oppressed us +will no longer be love, but a holy and rapturous adoration! Raphael, do +you understand me? You will no longer be Raphael, you will be my +worship of God!" + +We rose in a transport of enthusiasm; we embraced the tree, and blessed +it for the inspiration which had descended from its boughs; we gave it +a name, and called it the tree of adoration. + +We then slowly descended the hill of St. Cloud to return to the noise +and turmoil of Paris; but she returned with new-found faith and the +knowledge of God in her heart, and I with the joy of knowing that she +now possessed a bright and inward source of consolation, hope and +peace. + + + + +LXXXIX. + + +In a very short time, the expense I was obliged to incur but which I +concealed from Julie, in order to accompany her on our daily country +excursions, had so far exhausted the proceeds of the sale of my +mother's last diamond that I had only ten louis left. When each night I +reckoned over the limited number of happy days represented by that +small sum, I was seized with fits of despondency, but I should have +blushed to confess my excessive poverty to her I loved. Though far from +wealthy she would have wished to share with me all she possessed, and +that would have degraded our intercourse in my eyes. I valued my love +more than life, but I would rather have died than have debased my love. + +The sedentary life I had led all the winter in my dismal room, my +intense application to study all day, the tension of my thoughts +towards one object, the want of sleep at night, but, above all, the +moral exhaustion of a heart too weak to bear a continuous ecstasy of +ten months, had undermined my constitution. A consuming flame, which +burned unfed, shone through my wan and pale face. Julie implored me to +leave Paris, to try the effect of my native air, and to preserve my +life, even at the expense of her happiness. She sent me her doctor, to +add the authority of science to the entreaties of her love. Her doctor, +or rather her friend, Dr. Alain, was one of those men who carry a +blessing with them, and whose countenance seems to reflect Heaven by +the bedside of the sick poor they visit. He was himself suffering from +a complaint of the heart brought on by a pure and mysterious passion +for one of the loveliest women in Paris. + +He was active, humane, pious, and tolerant, and possessing a small +fortune sufficient for his simple wants and charities, practiced only +for a few friends or for the poor. His physic was friendship or charity +in action. The medical career is so admirable when divested of all +cupidity, it brings so much into play the better feelings of our +nature, that it often ends by being a virtue after commencing as a +profession, With Dr. Alain it was more than a virtue; it had become a +passion for relieving the woes of the body and of the soul, which are +often so closely linked! Where Alain brought life, he also took God +with him, and made even Death resplendent with serenity and +immortality. + +I saw him, too, die, some years later, the death of the righteous and +the just. He had learned how to die at many deathbeds; and when +stretched motionless on his, during six months of agony, his eye +counted on a little clock, which stood at the foot of his bed, the +hours that divided him from eternity. He pressed upon his bosom, with +his crossed hands, a crucifix, emblem of patience, and his look never +quitted that celestial friend, as though he had conversed at the foot +of the cross. When he suffered beyond his powers of endurance he +requested that the crucifix might be approached to his lips, and his +prayers were then mingled with thanksgiving. At last he slept, +supported to the end by his hopes and the memory of the good he had +done. He had given the poor and the sick an accumulated treasure of +good works to carry before him into the presence of the God of the +merciful. He died on a wretched bed in a garret, leaving no +inheritance. The poor bore his body to the grave, and, in their turn, +gave him the burial of charity in the common earth. O blessed soul, +that in memory, I still see smiling on that kind countenance, lighted +with inward joy, can so much virtue have been to thee but a deception? +Hast thou vanished like the reflection of my lamp upon thy portrait, +when my hand withdraws the light that allowed me to contemplate it? No, +no; God is faithful, and cannot have deceived thee, who wouldst not +have deceived a child! + + + + +XC. + + +The doctor took a deep and friendly interest in me. It seemed as if +Julie had imparted to him a portion of her tenderness. He understood my +complaint, though he concealed his knowledge from me, and was too +deeply read in human passion not to recognize its symptoms in us. He +ordered me to depart under penalty of death, and induced Julie herself +to enforce his commands by communicating to her his fears. He invoked +the tender authority of love to tear me from love. He tried to mitigate +the pang of separation by the allurement of hope, and ordered me to +breathe some time my native air, and then return to the baths of Savoy, +where Julie should join me, by his advice, in the beginning of autumn. +His principles did not seem startled by the symptoms of mutual passion +which he had not failed to perceive between us. Our pure flame was in +his eyes a fault, but it was also its own purification. His countenance +only expressed the indulgence of man, and the compassion of God. He +thus endeavored to save us by loosening the tie which threatened to +draw us to one common death. I at length consented to be the first to +depart, and Julie swore to follow me soon. Alas, her tears, her pale +face, and trembling lips said more than any vows! It was settled that I +should leave Paris as soon as my strength permitted me to travel. The +eighteenth of May was the day fixed for my departure. + +When once we had resolved on our approaching separation we began to +reckon the minutes as hours, the hours as days. We would have amassed +and concentrated years into the short space of a second, to wrest from +time the happiness from which we were to be debarred during so many +months. These days were days of rapture, but they had their anguish and +their agony; the approaching morrow cast its gloom upon each interview, +each look and word, each pressure of the hand. Joys such as these are +not joys, but disguised pangs of love and tortures of the heart. We +devoted the whole day preceding my departure to our adieus. We wished +not to say our last farewell within the shadow of walls, which weigh +down the soul, or beneath the eyes of the indifferent, which throw back +the feelings on the heart, but beneath the sky, in the open air, in the +light, in solitude, and in silence. Nature sympathizes with all the +emotions of man; she understands, and, as an invisible confidant, seems +to share them. She garners them in heaven, and renders them divine. + + + + +XCI. + + +In the morning, a carriage, which I had hired for the day, conveyed us +to Monceau. The windows were down, the blinds closed. We traversed the +almost deserted streets of the more elevated parts of Paris, leading to +the high walls of the park. This garden was at that time almost +exclusively reserved for their own use by the princes to whom it +belonged, and could only be entered on presenting tickets of admission, +which were very parsimoniously distributed to a few foreigners or +travellers desirous of admiring its wonderful vegetation. I had +obtained some of these tickets, through one of my mother's early +friends who was attached to the prince's household. I had selected this +solitude because I knew its owners were absent, that no admissions were +then given, and that the very gardeners would be away enjoying the +leisure of a holiday. + +This magnificent desert, studded with groves of trees, interspersed +with meadows, and traversed by limpid streams, is also embellished by +monuments, columns, and ivy-covered ruins, imitations of time in which +art has copied the old age of stone. That day we knew it would be +visited only by the bright sunbeams, the insects, the birds, and us. +Alas, never were its leaves and its green turf to be watered by so many +tears! + +The warm and glowing sky, the light and shade dancing fitfully on the +grass driven by the summer breeze, as the shadow of the wings of one +bird pursuing another; the clear note of the nightingale ringing +through the sonorous air; the distinctness with which the lilies of the +valley, the daisies, and the blue periwinkles which carpeted the +sloping banks of the clear waters, were reflected in their polished +mirror,--all this gladness of Nature saddened us, and this luminous +serenity of a spring morning only seemed to contrast the more with the +dark cloud which weighed upon our hearts. In vain we sought to deceive +ourselves even for a moment by expatiating on the beauty of the +landscape, the brilliant tints of the flowers, the perfumes of the air, +the depth of the shade, the stillness of those solitudes in which the +happiness of a whole world of love might have been sheltered. We +carelessly threw on them an unheeding glance, which quickly fell to the +ground; our voices, when answering with their vain formulas of joy and +admiration, betrayed the hollowness of words and the absence of our +thoughts, which were elsewhere. It was in vain we sought a +resting-place to pass the long hours of this our last interview; +seating ourselves alternately beneath the most fragrant lilacs, or the +green branches of the loftiest cedars, on the fluted fragments of +columns half-buried in ivy, or by the side of those waters that lay +most still within their grassy banks, for scarcely had we chosen one of +these sites when some vague disquietude drove us away in search of +another. Here it was the shade, and there the light; further on, the +importunate murmur of the cascade, or the persisting song of the +nightingale over our heads,--that turned into bitterness all this +exuberance of joy, and made it odious in our eyes. When our heart is +sad within us, all creation jars upon our feelings, and it could but +have added fresh pangs to the grief of two lovers, had the garden of +Eden been the scene of their parting. + +At last, worn out by wandering for two hours, and finding no shelter +against ourselves, we sat down near a small bridge across a stream; a +little apart, as if the very sound of each other's breathing had been +painful, or as if we had wished instinctively to conceal from one +another the suppressed sobs which were bursting from our hearts. We +long watched abstractedly the green and slimy water as it was slowly +swept beneath the narrow arch of the bridge. It carried along on its +surface sometimes the white petals of the lily, and sometimes an empty +and downy bird's nest which the wind had blown from a tree. We soon saw +the body of a poor little swallow, turned on its back, and with +extended wings, floating down. It had, doubtless, been drowned when +skimming over the water before its wings were strong enough to bear it +on the surface; it reminded us of the swallow which had one day fallen +at our feet, from the top of the dismantled tower of the old castle on +the borders of the lake, and which had saddened us as an omen. The dead +bird passed slowly before us, and the unruffled sheet of water rolled +and engulfed it in the deep darkness below the bridge. When the bird +had disappeared, we saw another swallow pass and repass a hundred times +beneath the bridge, uttering its little sharp cry of distress, and +dashing against the wooden beams of the arch. Involuntarily we looked +at each other; I cannot tell what our eyes expressed as they met, but +the despair of the poor bird found us with our eyelids so overcharged, +and our hearts so nearly bursting, that we both turned away at the same +moment, and throwing ourselves with our faces to the ground, sobbed +aloud. One tear called forth another tear, one thought another thought, +one foreboding another foreboding, each sob another sob. We often +strove to speak, but the broken voice of the one only made that of the +other still more inaudible, and we ended by yielding to nature, and +pouring forth in silence, during hours marked by the shadows alone, all +the tears that rose from their hidden springs. They fell on the grass, +sank into the earth, were dried by the winds of heaven, absorbed by the +rays of the sun,--God took them into account! No drop of anguish +remained in our hearts when we rose face to face though almost hidden +from each other by the tearful veil of our eyes. Such was our +farewell,--a funereal image, an ocean of tears, an eternal silence. +Thus we parted without another look, lest that look should strike us to +the earth. Never will the mark of my footsteps be again traced in that +desert scene of our love and of our parting. + + + + +XCII. + + +The next morning I was rolling along, sad and silent, wrapped in my +cloak, among the barren hills on the road that leads from Paris towards +the south. I was stowed away in a public coach, with five or six +unknown fellow-travellers who were gayly discussing the quality of the +wine and the price of the last dinner at the inn. I never once opened +my lips during that long, sad journey. + +My mother received me with that serene and resigned tenderness which +might have made even misfortune happy in her company. Her diamond had +been spent in vain to advance my fortunes; and I returned home, with +shattered health and broken hopes, consumed with melancholy that she +attributed to my unoccupied youth and restless imagination, but of +which I carefully concealed the real cause, for fear of adding an +irremediable sorrow to all her other griefs. + +I spent the summer alone in an almost deserted valley enclosed between +barren hills, where my father had a little farm, which was worked by a +poor family. My mother had sent me there, and commended me to the care +of these good people, that I might have a change of air and the benefit +of milk diet. My whole occupation was to reckon the days which must +intervene before I could join Julie in our dear Alpine valley. Her +letters, received and replied to daily, confirmed me in my security, +and dispelled, by their sportive gayety and caressing words, the gloomy +and sinister forebodings our last farewell had raised in my heart. Now +and then some desponding word or expression of sadness which seemed to +have unguardedly escaped, or been involuntarily overlooked among her +vistas of happiness, as a dry leaf in the midst of the foliage of +spring, struck me as being in contradiction with the calm and blooming +health she spoke of. But I attributed these discrepancies to some +vision of memory or to her impatience at the slowness of time which +might have flitted like shadows across the paper as she wrote. + +The bracing mountain air, sleep at night, and exercise by day, the +healthy employment of working in the garden and in the farm, soon +restored me to health; but, above all, the approach of autumn, and the +certainty of soon seeing her once more who by her looks would give me +life. The only remaining trace of my sufferings was a gentle and +pensive melancholy which overspread my countenance; it was as the mist +of a summer's morning. My silence seemed to conceal some mystery, and +my instinctive love of solitude made the superstitious peasants of the +mountains believe that I conversed with the Genii of the woods. + +All ambition had been extinguished in me by my love. I had made up my +mind for life to my hopeless poverty and obscurity, and my mother's +serene and pious resignation had entered into my heart with her holy +and gentle words. I only indulged the dream of working during ten or +eleven months of the year manually, or with my pen to earn sufficiently +thereby to spend a month or two with Julie every year. I thought that +if the old man's protection were one day to fail, I would devote myself +to her service as a slave, like Rousseau to Madame de Warens; we would +take shelter in some secluded cottage of these mountains, or in the +well-known chalets of our Savoy; I would live for her, as she would +live for me, without looking back with regret to the empty world, and +asking of love no other reward than the happiness of loving. + + + + +XCIII. + + +I was, however, often recalled harshly from my dreamy region by the +cruel penury of my home, which was partly attributable to the +unavailing expense incurred for me. Crops had failed during successive +years, and reverses of fortune had changed the humble mediocrity of my +parents into comparative want. When on Sundays I went to see my mother, +she spoke of her distress, and before me shed tears that she concealed +from my father and my sisters. I, too, was reduced to extreme +destitution. I lived at the little farm on brown bread, milk, and eggs, +and had in secret sold successively in the neighboring town all the +books and clothes I had brought from Paris, to procure wherewithal to +pay the postage of Julie's letters, for which I would have sold my +life's blood. + +The month of September was drawing to a close. Julie wrote me that her +anxiety on the score of her husband's daily declining health (O pious +fraud of love to conceal her own sufferings and lighten my cares) would +detain her longer in Paris than she had expected. She pressed me to +start at once, and await her in Savoy, where she would join me without +fail towards the end of October. The letter was one of tender advice, +as that of a sister to a beloved brother. She implored and ordered me, +with the sovereign authority of love, to beware of that insidious +disease which lurks beneath the flowery surface of youth, and often +withers and consumes us at the very moment we think that we have +overcome its power. Enclosed, she sent a consultation and a +prescription from good Dr. Alain, ordering me in the most imperative +terms, and with most alarming threats, to remain during a long season +at the baths of Aix. I showed this prescription to my mother, to +account for my departure, and she was so disquieted by it that she +added her entreaties to the injunctions of the doctor to induce me to +go. Alas! I had in vain applied to a few friends as poor as myself, and +to some pitiless usurers, to obtain the trifling sum of twelve louis +required for my journey. My father had been absent six months, and my +mother would on no account have aggravated his distress and anxiety by +asking him for money. In borrowing he would have exposed his poverty, +by which he was already too much humbled. I had made up my mind to +start with two or three louis only in my purse, in the hope of +borrowing the remainder from my friend L----, at Chambéry; when, a few +days before my departure, my mother, during a sleepless night, had +found in her heart a resource that a mother's heart could alone have +furnished. + + + + +XCIV. + + +In one of the comers of the little garden that surrounded our house +there stood a cluster of trees, comprising a few evergreen oaks, two or +three lime trees, and seven or eight twisted elms, which were the +remains of a wood, planted centuries ago, and had, doubtless, been +respected as the _local Genius_ when the hill had been cleared, the +house built, and the garden first walled in. These lofty trees in +summer time served as a family saloon, in the open air. Their buds in +spring, their tints in autumn, and their dry leaves in winter, which +were succeeded by the hoar frost hanging from their branches like white +hair, had marked the seasons for us. Their shadows, rolled back upon +their very feet, or stretched out to the grassy border around, told us +the hours better than a dial. Beneath their foliage our mother had +nursed us, lulled us to rest, and taught us our first steps. My father +sat there, book in hand, when he returned from shooting; his shining +gun suspended from a branch, his panting dogs crouching beneath the +bench. I, too, had spent there the fairest hours of my boyhood, with +Homer or Telemachus lying open on the grass before me. I loved to lie +flat on the warm turf, my elbows resting on the volume, of which a +passing fly or lizard would sometimes hide the lines. The nightingales +among the branches sang for our home, though we could never find their +nest, or even see the branch from which their song burst forth. This +grove was the pride, the recollection, the love of all. The idea of +converting it into a small bag of money, which would leave no memory in +the heart, no perpetual joy and shade, would have occurred to no one, +save to a mother, trembling with anxiety for the life of an only son. +My mother conceived the thought; and, with the readiness and firmness +of resolve that distinguished her, called for the woodcutters as soon +as morning came,--fearing lest she should feel remorse, or my +entreaties stop her, if she first consulted me. She saw the axe laid to +their roots, and wept, and turned away her head not to hear their moan, +or witness the fall of these leafy protectors of her youth on the +echoing and desolate soil of the garden. + + + + +XCV. + + +When I returned to M---- on the following Sunday, I looked round from +the top of the mountain for the clump of trees that stood out so +pleasantly on the hillside, screening from the sun a portion of the +gray wall of the house; and it seemed as a dream when in their wonted +place I perceived only heaps of hewn-down trunks whose barked and +bleeding branches strewed the earth around. A sawing-trestle stood +there like an instrument of torture, on which the saw with its grinding +teeth divided the trees. I hurried on with extended arms towards the +outer wall, and trembled as I opened the little garden door.... Alas! +the evergreen oak, one lime-tree, and the oldest elm alone were +standing, and the bench had been drawn in beneath their shade. "They +are sufficient," said my mother, as she advanced towards me, and, to +conceal her tears, threw herself into my arms; "the shade of one tree +is worth that of a whole forest. Besides, to me what shade can equal +yours? Do not be angry. I wrote to your father that the trees were +dying from the top, and that they were hurtful to the kitchen-garden. +Speak no more of them!"... Then leading me into the house, she opened +her desk and drew forth a bag half-filled with money. "Take this," she +said, "and go. The trees will have been amply paid me if you return +well and happy." + +I blushed, and with a stifled sob took the bag. There were six hundred +francs in it, which I resolved to bring back untouched to my poor +mother. + +I started on foot, like a sportsman, with leathern gaiters on my feet, +and my gun on my shoulder, and took from the bag only one hundred +francs, which I added to the little I had remaining from the proceeds +of my last sale. I could not bear to spend the price of the trees, and +therefore concealed the remainder of the money at the farm, that on my +return I might restore it to her who had so heroically torn it from her +heart for me. I ate and slept at the humblest inns in the villages +through which I passed, and was taken for a poor Swiss student +returning from the University of Strasbourg. I was never charged but +the strict value of the bread I ate, of the candle I burned, and of the +pallet on which I slept. I had brought but one book with me, which I +read at evening on the bench before the inn door; it was Werther, in +German; and the unknown characters confirmed my hosts in the idea that +I was a foreign traveller. + +I thus wandered through the long and picturesque gorges of Bugey, and +crossed the Rhône at the foot of the rock of Pierre-Châtel. The +narrowed river eternally rushes past the base of this rock, with a +current wearing as the grindstone and cutting as the knife, as if to +undermine and overthrow the state-prison, whose gloomy shadow saddens +its waters. I slowly ascended the Mont du Chat by the paths of the +chamois-hunters; arrived at its summit, I perceived stretched out +before me in the distance the valleys of Aix, Chambéry, and Annecy; and +at my feet the lake, dappled with rosy tints by the floating rays of +the setting sun. One single image filled for me the immensity of this +horizon; it rose from the chalets where we had met; from the doctor's +garden, the pointed slate roof of whose house I could recognize above +the smoke of the town; from the fig-trees of the little castle of +Bon-Port at the bottom of the opposite creek; from the chestnut-trees +on the hill of Tresserves; from the woods of St. Innocent; from the +island of Châtillon; from the boats which were returning to their +moorings, from all this earth, from all this sky, from all these waves. +I fell on my knees before this horizon filled with one image. I spread +out my arms and folded them again, as if I could have embraced her +spirit by clasping the air which, had swept over these scenes of our +happiness, over all the traces of her footsteps. + +I then sat down behind a rock which screened me even from the sight of +the goatherds, as they passed along the path. There I remained, sunk in +contemplation, and reveling in remembrances, till the sun was almost +dipping behind the snow-clad tops of Nivolex. I did not wish to cross +the lake, or enter the town by daylight, as the homeliness of my dress, +the scantiness of my purse, and the frugality of life to which I was +constrained, in order to live some months near Julie, would have seemed +strange to the inmates of the old doctor's house. They formed too great +a contrast with my elegance in dress and habits of life during the +preceding season. I should have made those blush whom I had accosted in +the streets, in the garb of one who had not even the means of locating +himself in a decent hotel in this abode of luxury. I had, therefore, +resolved to slip by night into the humble suburb, bordering a rivulet +which runs through the orchards below the town. + +I knew there a poor young serving girl, called Fanchette, who had +married a boatman the year before. She had reserved some beds in the +garret of her cottage, that she might board and lodge one or two poor +invalids at fifteen sous a day. I had engaged one of these rooms, and a +place at the humble board of the good creature. My friend L----, to +whom I had written naming the day of my arrival on the borders of the +lake, had some days previously written to take my lodgings, and warn +Fanchette of my arrival, binding her to secrecy. I had also begged him +to receive, under cover to himself, at Chambéry, any letters that might +be addressed to me from Paris. He was to forward them to me by one of +the drivers of the light carts that run continually between the two +towns. I intended, during my stay at Aix, to remain in the daytime +concealed in my little cottage room, or in the surrounding orchards. I +would only, I thought, go out in the evening; I would go up to the +doctor's house by the skirts of the town; I would enter the garden by +the gate which opened on the country, and pass in delightful +intercourse the solitary evening hours. I would bear with pleasure want +and humiliation, which would be compensated a thousand fold by those +hours of love. I thought thus to conciliate the respect I owed to my +poor mother for the sacrifices she had made, with my devotion to the +idol I came to worship. + + + + + +XCVI. + + +From a pious superstition of love, I had calculated my steps during my +long pedestrian journey, so as to arrive at the Abbey of Haute-Combe, +on the other side of the Mont du Chat, upon the anniversary of the day +that the miracle of our meeting, and the revelation of our two hearts, +had taken place in the fisherman's inn on the borders of the lake. It +seemed to me that days, like all other mortal things, had their +destiny, and that in the conjunction of the same sun, the same month, +the same date, and in the same spot, I might find something of her I +loved. It would be an augury, at least, of our speedy and lasting +reunion. + + + + +XCVII. + + +From the brink of the almost perpendicular sides of the Mont du Chat +that descend to the lake, I could see on my left the old ruins and the +lengthening shadows of the Abbey, which darkened a vast extent of the +waters. In a few minutes I reached the spot. The sun was sinking behind +the Alps, and the long twilight of autumn enveloped the mountains, the +waves, and the shore. I did not stop at the ruins, and passed rapidly +through the orchard where we had sat at the foot of the haystack, near +the bee-hives. The hives and the haystack were still there; but there +was no glow of fire lighting the windows of the little inn, no smoke +ascending from the roof, no nets hung out to dry on the palisades of +the garden. + +I knocked, no one answered; I shook the wooden latch, and the door +opened of itself. I entered the little hall with the smoky walls; the +hearth was swept clean, even to the very ashes, and the table and +furniture had been removed. The flagstones of the pavement were strewed +with straws and feathers that had fallen from five or six empty +swallows' nests which hung from the blackened beams of the ceiling. I +went up the wooden ladder which was fastened to the wall by an iron +hook, and served to ascend into the upper room where Julie had awaked +from her swoon, with her hand on my forehead. I entered as one enters a +sanctuary or a sepulchre, and looked around; the wooden beds, the +presses, the stools were all gone. The sound of my footsteps frightened +a nocturnal bird of prey, that heavily flapped its wings, and after +beating against the walls, flew out with a shrill cry through the open +window into the orchard. I could scarcely distinguish the place where I +had knelt during that terrible and yet enchanting night, at the bedside +of the sleeper or of the dead. I kissed the floor, and sat for a long +while on the edge of the window, trying to evoke again in my memory the +room, the furniture, the bed, the lamp, the hours, which had kept their +place within me though all had been changed during a single year of +absence. There was no one in the lonely neighborhood of the cottage who +could furnish any information as to the cause of its being thus +deserted. I conjectured from the heaps of fagots which remained in the +yard, from the hens and pigeons which returned of themselves to roost +in the room, or on the roof, and from the stacks of hay and straw which +stood untouched in the orchard, that the family had gone to gather in a +late harvest in the high chalets of the mountain, and had not yet come +down again. + +The solitude of which I had thus taken possession was sad; not so sad, +however, as the presence of the indifferent in a spot that was sacred +in my eyes. I must have controlled before them my looks, my voice, my +gestures, and the impressions that assailed me. I resolved to pass the +night there, and brought up a bundle of fresh straw, which I spread on +the floor, on the same spot where Julie had slept her death-like sleep. +Resting my gun against the wall, I then took out of my knapsack some +bread and a goat cheese that I had bought at Seyssel to support me on +the road, and went out to eat my supper on a green platform above the +ruins of the Abbey, by the side of the spring which flows and stops +alternately, like the intermittent breathing of the mountain. + + + + +XCVIII. + + +From the edge of that platform, and from the dismantled terraces of the +old monastery, at evening time, the eye embraces the most enchanting +horizon that ever delighted an anchorite, a contemplator, or a lover. +Behind is the green and humid shade of the mountain, with the murmur of +its source, and the rustling of its foliage; and on one side the ruins, +the broken walls, with their garlands of ivy, and the dark arcades +replete with night and mystery; the lake, with its expiring waves +slowly rolling, one by one, their fringes of spray at the foot of the +rocks, as if to spread its couch and lull its sleep on the fine sands. +On the opposite shore, the blue mountains clothed with their +transparent tints; and on the right, as far as the eye can reach, the +luminous track that the sun leaves in crimson light on the sky and on +the lake, when it withdraws its splendor. I revelled in this light and +shade, in these clouds and waves. I incorporated myself with lovely +Nature, and thought thus to incorporate in me the image of her who was +all nature for me. I inwardly said I saw her there. I was at that +distance from her boat when I saw it struggling against the storm. +There is the shore where she landed; there is the orchard where we +opened our hearts to each other in the sunshine, and where she returned +to life to give me two lives. There in the distance are the tops of the +poplars of the great avenue which unrolls its length like a green +serpent issuing from the waves. There are the chalets, mossy turf, and +woods of chestnut-tree, the sheltered paths upon the highest +mountain-planes where I picked flowers, strawberries, and chestnuts to +fill her lap. There she said this; there I confessed some secret of my +soul; and on that spot we remained a whole evening silent, our hearts +flooded with enthusiasm, our lips without language. Upon these waves +she wished to die; upon this shore she promised me to live. Beneath +yonder group of walnut-trees, then leafless, she bid me farewell, and +promised me that I should see her again before the new leaves should +have turned yellow. They are about to change; but love is faithful as +Nature. In a few days I shall see her once more.... I see her already; +for am I not here awaiting her? and thus to wait, is it not as though I +saw her again? + + + + +XCIX. + + +Then I pictured to myself the instant when, from the shady orchards +that slope down from the mountains behind the old doctor's house, I +should see at last that window of the closed room where she was +expected,--to see it open for the first time, and a woman's face, +half-hidden in its long dark hair, appear between the open curtains, +dreaming of that brother whom her eye seeks in the glorious landscape, +where she, too, sees but him.... And at that image my heart beat so +impetuously in my breast that I was forced to drive away the fancy for +an instant, in order to breathe. + +In the meantime night had almost entirely descended from the mountain +to the lake. One could only see the waters through a mist that glazed +and darkened their wide expanse. Amid the profound and universal +silence which precedes darkness, the regular sound of oars which seemed +to approach land smote upon my ear. I soon saw a little speck moving on +the waters, and increasing gradually in size until it slid into the +little cove near the fisherman's house, throwing on either side a light +fringe of spray. Thinking that it might be the fisherman returning from +the Savoy coast to his deserted dwelling, I hurried down from the ruins +to the shore, to be there when the boat came in. I waited on the sand +till the fisherman landed. + + + + +C. + + +As soon as he saw me, he cried out, "Are you, sir, the young Frenchman +who is expected at Fanchette's, and to whom I have been ordered to give +these papers?" So saying, he jumped out of the boat, and, wading +knee-deep through the water, handed me a thick letter. I felt by its +weight that it was an enclosure containing many others. I hastily tore +open the first cover, and read indistinctly in the dim moonlight a note +from my friend L---, dated that same morning from Chambéry. L---- +informed me that my lodging was taken and prepared for me at +Fanchette's poor house in the Faubourg, and that no one had yet arrived +from Paris at our old friend the doctor's. He added, that, having +learned from myself that I should be that same evening at Haute-Combe +to spend the night and a part of the following day, he had taken +advantage of the departure of a trusty boatman who was to pass beneath +the Abbey walls, to send me a packet of letters, which had arrived two +days before, and that I was doubtless eagerly expecting. He purposed +joining me at Haute-Combe the following day, that we might cross the +lake together, and enter the town under the shadow of night. + + + + +CI. + + +While my eye glanced over the note, I held the packet with a trembling +hand. It seemed to me heavy as my fate. I hastened to pay and dismiss +the boatman, who was impatient to be off so as to leave the lake and +enter the waters of the Rhone before dark. I only asked him for a piece +of candle, to enable me to read my letters; he gave it, and I soon +heard the strokes of his oars, as they once more cut through the deep +sheet of water. I returned overjoyed to the upper room, to see once +more the sacred characters of that angel in the very place where she +had first revealed herself to me in all her splendor and in all her +love. I felt sure that one of those letters must inform me that she had +left Paris and would soon be with me. I sat down on the bundle of straw +which I had brought up for my bed, and lighted my candle by means of +the priming of my gun. I hastily tore open the cover, and it was only +then that I perceived that the seal of the first envelope was black, +and that the address was in the handwriting of Dr. Alain. I shuddered +as I saw mourning where I had expected to find joy. The other letters +slid from my hands onto my knees. I dared not read on for fear of +finding--alas! what neither hand, nor eye, nor blood, nor tears, nor +earth, nor Heaven could evermore efface--Death!... Though my very soul +trembled so as to make the syllables dance before my eyes, I read at +last these words: + +"Prove yourself a man! Submit yourself to the will of Him whose ways +are not our ways; expect her no longer! ... Look for her no more on +earth, she has returned to heaven, calling on your name.... Thursday at +sunrise.... She told me all before she died; ... she directed me to +send you her last thoughts, which she wrote down till the very instant +her hand grew cold while tracing your name.... Love her in Christ, who +loved us unto death, and live for your mother! + +"ALAIN." + + + + +CII. + + +I fell back senseless on the straw, and only recovered consciousness +when the cold air of midnight chilled my brow. The light was still +burning, and the doctor's letter was grasped convulsively in my hand. +The untouched packet had fallen on the floor; I opened it with my lips, +as if I feared to profane the heavenly message by breaking the seal +with my fingers. Several long letters from Julie fell out; they were +arranged according to dates. + +In the-first there was: "Raphael! O my Raphael! O my brother! forgive +your sister for having so long deceived you.... I never hoped to see +you once more in Savoy.... I knew that my days were numbered, and that +I could not live on till that day of happiness.... When I said at the +gate of the garden of Monceau, 'We shall meet again,' Raphael, you did +not understand me, but God did. I meant to say, 'We shall meet again, +once more to love, to bless eternally, in heaven!' I begged Dr. Alain +to aid me in deceiving you, and sending you away from Paris. It was my +wish, it was my duty, to spare you such a sight of anguish as would +have torn your heart asunder, and would have been too much for your +strength.... And then again--forgive me, I must tell you all--I did not +wish you to see me die.... I wish to spread a veil between us some time +before death.... Cold death!--I feel it, see it, and shudder at myself +in death! Raphael, I sought to leave an image of beauty in your eyes, +that you might ever contemplate and adore! But now, you must not go, +... to await me in Savoy! Yet a little while--two or three days +perhaps--and you need seek me nowhere! But I shall be there, Raphael! I +shall be everywhere, and always where you are." + +This letter had been moistened with tears, which had unglazed and +stiffened the paper. + +In the other, dated the following night, I read:-- + +"Midnight. + +"Raphael, your prayers have drawn down a blessing from Heaven upon me. +I thought yesterday of the tree of adoration at St. Cloud, at whose +foot I saw God through your soul. But there is another holier +tree,--the Cross!... I have embraced it ... I will cling to it +evermore.... Oh, how that divine blood cleanses! how those divine tears +purify!... Yesterday I sent for a holy priest of whom Alain had spoken. +He is an old man who knows everything; who forgives all! I have +discovered my soul to him, and he has shed on it the love and light of +God.... How good is God! how indulgent, how full of loving kindness! +How little we know of him! He suffers me to love you, to have you for +my brother, to be your sister here below, if I live; your guardian +angel above, if I die! O Raphael, let us love him, since he permits +that we should love each other as we do!"... + +At the end of the letter there was a little cross traced, and, as it +were, the impress of a kiss all around. + + + + +CIII. + + +There was another letter written in a totally altered hand, where the +characters crossed and mingled on the page, as if traced in the dark, +which said:-- + +"Raphael, I must say one word more--to-morrow, perhaps, I could not. +When I am dead, oh, do not die! I shall watch over you from above; I +shall be good and powerful, as the loving God, to whom I shall be +united, is good and powerful. After me, you must love again.... God +will send you another sister, who will be, moreover, the pious helpmate +of your life.... I will myself ask it of him.... Fear not to grieve my +soul, Raphael!... I--could I be jealous in heaven of your happiness?... +I feel better now I have said this. Alain will forward these lines to +you, and a lock of my hair.... I am going to sleep."... + +One letter more, almost illegible, contained only these interrupted +lines: "Raphael! Raphael! where are you? I have had strength to get out +of bed.... I have told the nurse that I wished to be left alone to +rest. I have dragged myself along to the table, where I am writing by +the light of the lamp.... But I can see no more; ...my eyes swim in +darkness; ... black spots flit across the paper; ... Raphael! I can no +longer write.... Oh, one word more!"... + +Then, in large letters, like those of a child trying to write for the +first time, there are two words which occupy a whole line, filling the +bottom of the page. "Farewell, Raphael!" + + + + +CIV. + + +All the letters fell from my hands. I was sobbing without tears, when I +perceived another little note in the handwriting of the old man, her +husband; it had slid between the pages as I was unsealing the first +envelope. + +There were only these words: "She breathed her last, her hand in mine, +a few hours after writing you her last farewell. I have lost my +daughter.... Be my son for the few days I have yet to live. She is +there upon her bed, as if asleep, with an expression on her features of +one whose last thought smiled at seeing something beyond our world. She +never was so lovely; and as I look on her I require to believe in +immortality.... I loved you through her; for her sake love me!" + + + + +CV. + + +How strange, and yet how fortunate for human nature, is the +impossibility of immediately believing in the complete disappearance of +a much-loved being! Though the evidence of her death lay scattered +around, I could not believe that I was forever separated from her. Her +remembrance, her image, her features, the sound of her voice, the +peculiar turn of her expressions, the charm of her countenance, were so +present, and, as it were, so incorporate in me, that she seemed more +than ever with me; she appeared to envelop me, to converse with me, to +call me by my name, as though I could have risen to meet her, and to +see her once more. God leaves a space between the certainty of our loss +and the consciousness of reality, like the interval which our senses +measure between the instant when the eye sees the axe fall on the tree +and the sound in our ear of the same blow long after. This distance +deadens grief by cheating it. For some time after losing those we love, +we have not completely lost them; we live on by the prolongation of +their life in us. We feel as when we have been long watching the +setting sun,--though its orb has sunk below the horizon, its rays are +not set in our eyes; they still shine on our soul. It is only +gradually, and as our impressions become more distinct as they cool, +that we are made to know the complete and heartfelt separation,--that +we can say, she is dead in me! For death is not death, but oblivion. + +This phenomenon of grief was shown in its full force in me during that +night. God suffered me not to drain at one draught my cup of woe, lest +it should overwhelm my very soul. He vouchsafed to me the delusive +belief, which. I long retained, of her inward presence. In me, before +me, and around me, I saw that heavenly being who had been sent to me +for one single year, to direct my thoughts and looks forevermore +towards the heaven to which she returned in her spring of youth and +love. + +When the poor boatman's candle was burned out, I took up my letters and +hid them in my bosom. I kissed a thousand times the floor of the room +which had been the cradle, and was now the tomb, of our love. I +unconsciously took my gun, and rushed wildly through the mountain +passes. The night was dark; the wind had risen. The waves of the lake, +dashing against the rocks, lashed them with such hollow blows, and sent +forth sounds so like to human voices, that many times I stopped +breathless, and turned round, as if I had been called by name. Yes, I +was called; and I was not mistaken; but the voice came from heaven!... + + + + +CVI. + + +You know, my friend, who found me the next morning, wandering among +precipices, in the mists of the Rhône; who raised me up, supported me, +and brought me back to my poor mother's arms.... + +Now fifteen years have rolled by without sweeping away in their course +a single memory of that one great year of my youth. According to +Julie's promise to send me from above one who should comfort me, God +has exchanged his gift for another; he has not withdrawn it. I often +return to visit the valley of Chambéry and the lake of Aix, with her +who has made my hopes patient and tranquil as felicity. When I sit on +the heights of the hill of Tresserves, at the foot of those +chestnut-trees that have felt her heart beat against their bark; when I +look at the lake, the mountains, snows and meadows, trees and jagged +rocks, swimming in a warm atmosphere which seems to bathe all nature in +one perfumed liquid; when I hear the sighing breeze, the humming +insects, and the quivering leaves, the waves of the lake breaking on +the shore, with the gentle rustling sound of silken folds unrolling one +by one; when I see the shadow of her whom God has made my companion +until my life's end cast beside mine upon the grass or sand; when I +feel within me a plenitude that desires nothing before death, and +peace, untroubled by a single sigh; methinks I see the blessed soul of +her who appeared to me in this spot rise, dazzling and immortal, from +every point of the horizon, fill of herself alone the sky and waters, +shine in that splendor, float in that ether, bum in all those flames. I +see it penetrate those waves, breathe in their murmurs; pray, and laud, +and sing in that one hymn of life that streams with these cascades from +glacier unto lake, and shed upon the valley and on those who keep her +memory a blessing that the eye seems to see, the ear to hear, the heart +to feel!... + +Here ended Raphael's first manuscript. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Raphael, by Alphonse de Lamartine + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13019 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..99a10bb --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #13019 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13019) diff --git a/old/13019-8.txt b/old/13019-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f501999 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13019-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6598 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Raphael, by Alphonse de Lamartine + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Raphael + Pages Of The Book Of Life At Twenty + +Author: Alphonse de Lamartine + +Release Date: July 25, 2004 [EBook #13019] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAPHAEL *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Keith M. Eckrich, and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreaders Team + + + + + +[Illustration: ALPHONSE DE LAMARATINE.] + + + + +RAPHAEL, or + +PAGES OF THE BOOK OF LIFE AT TWENTY + +BY ALPHONSE DE LAMARTINE + + +_ILLUSTRATED BY SANDOZ_ + + +SOCIÉTÉ DES BEAUX-ARTS +PARIS, LONDON AND NEW YORK + +1905 + + +Comédie d'Amour Series + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +It is all very well for Lamartine to explain, in his original prologue, +that the touching, fascinating and pathetic story of Raphael was the +experience of another man. It is well known that these feeling pages +are but transcripts of an episode of his own heart-history. That the +tale is one of almost feminine sentimentality is due, in some measure, +perhaps, to the fact that, during his earliest and most impressionable +years, Lamartine was educated by his mother and was greatly influenced +by her ardent and poetical character. Who shall say how much depends on +one's environment during these tender years of childhood, and how often +has it not been proved that "the child is father to the man?" The +marvel of it is that a man so exquisitely sensitive, of such +extraordinary delicacy of feeling, should have been able, in later +years, to stand the storm and stress of political life and the grave +responsibilities of statesmanship. + +Although not written in metrical form, Raphael is really a poem--a +prose poem. Never upon canvas of painter were spread more delicate +tints, hues, colors, shadings, blendings and suggestions, than in these +pages. Not only do we find ourselves, in the descriptions of scenery, +near to Nature's heart, but, in the story itself, near to the heart of +man. Aix in Savoy was, in Lamartine's time, a fashionable resort for +valitudinarians and invalids. Among the patrons of the place was Madame +Charles, whose memory Lamartine has immortalized as "Julie" in Raphael +and as "Elvire" in the beautiful lines of the _Méditations_. In drawing +the character "Julie," idealism and sentimentalism have full play. The +whole story is romantic in the extreme. The influence of Byron is +clearly to be seen. The beautiful hills of Savoy, tinged with the +melancholy tints of autumn, were a fit setting for the meeting with the +fair invalid. Besides physical invalidism, the pair were soul-sick and +heart-sick. Such were their points of sympathy, an affinity was the +most natural thing in the world. "Ships that pass in the night" were +these two creatures, stranded by illness, "out of the world's way, +hidden apart." At the feast of pure, unselfish, romantic love that +followed, there was always a death's-head present, always the sinking +fear, always the mute resignation on one side or the other. Death and +love have been a combination that poets have used since the world +began. And so, as the early snow whitened the pines on the hilltops of +Savoy, this pathetic and ultra-sentimental love-affair between the +banished _Parisienne_ and the poet had its beginning. That it could +have but one ending the reader knows from the start. But with what +breathless interest do we follow this history of love! We seem to be +admitted to the confidences of beings of another sphere, to celestial +heights of affection. We hear the heart-beats and see the glances of +the languid, languorous eyes. The universe itself seems to stand still +for these two lovers. Their heads are among the stars, their hearts in +heaven. Their love is as pure as a sonnet of Keats, as ineffable as +shimmering starlight. Day by day we trace its current, we cannot say +growth because it sprang into life full-grown. Although Julie said that +"her life was not worth a tear," she caused torrents of tears to flow. +From the first, their love seemed centuries old, so entirely was it a +part of their being. Day after day their souls were revealed to each +other, their hearts became more united. Every pure chord of psychic +affection was struck, even almost to the distracting discord of suicide +together, that they might never part, and from which they were saved as +by a miracle. In such unsullied love, there is an element of worship. +It is the sublimation of passion, freed from sensuous dross, a +spiritual efflorescence, a white flame of the soul. + +The parting of the lover, the pursuit, their meeting again in Julie's +home in Paris, the flickering candle of her waning life, burning down +to its socket, the touching interchange of letters, the gathering +shadows of the end, all these have stirred the hearts of entire +Christendom, appealing to all ages and conditions. Raphael is a lovers' +rosary.--C. C. STARKWEATHER. + + + + +LAMARTINE AND HIS WRITINGS + + +Lamartine was born at Mâcon, October 21, 1790. His father was +imprisoned during the Terror, narrowly escaping the guillotine. Taught +at first by his mother, young Lamartine was sent to a boarding school +at Lyons, and later to the college of the Pères de la Foi at Belley. +Here he remained till 1809, and after studying at home for two years, +he traveled in Italy, taking notes and receiving impressions which were +to prove so valuable to him in his literary work. He saw service in the +Royal Body-Guard upon the restoration of the Bourbons. When Napoleon +came back from Elba, Lamartine went to Switzerland and then to Aix in +Savoy. At Aix he fell in love with Madame Charles, who died in 1817. +This love-episode, ending so pathetically, became the subject of much +of his verse, and forms the basis of the famous Raphael, a book of the +purest, most delicate and elevated sentiment. Resigning from the guard, +he enjoyed two more "wander-years," revisiting Switzerland, Savoy and +Italy. + +A collection of his poems, including the famous _Lac_, was published +under the title _Méditations Poétiques_ in 1820, and leaped into +immediate popularity both with the sternest critics and the public at +large. His literary success led to political preferment, and he entered +the diplomatic service as Secretary to the French Embassy at Naples in +1823. That same year he was married at Geneva to an English lady, +Marianne Birch. His second volume of poetry now appeared, the +_Nouvelles Méditations_. He was transferred to Florence in 1824. In +1825 he published his continuation of Byron, _Le Dernier Chant du +Pélérinage de Childe Harold_. A passage in this poem gave offense to an +Italian officer, Colonel Pepe, with whom Lamartine fought a duel. The +_Harmonies Politiques et Réligieuses_ appeared in 1829. He became +active in politics, and was sent on a special mission to Prince Leopold +of Saxe-Coburg, afterward King of the Belgians. He was elected during +this year to the French Academy, at his second candidacy. + +After the publication of his pamphlet _La Politique Rationelle_ he was +defeated in a contest for membership in the National Assembly. He +started, in 1832, upon a long journey in the East with his wife and +daughter, Julia. The latter died at Beyrout in 1833. A description of +his travels was the theme of his _Voyage en Orient_, appearing in 1835. +In his absence he had been elected from Bergues to the Assembly, in +which, on his return, he made his first speech early in 1834. As a +political orator his power was second to none. + +His poems now became more philosophical. _Jocelyn_ was printed in 1836, +_La Chute d'Un Ange_ in 1838, and _Les Recueillements_ in 1839. A +political as well as a literary sensation was produced by his _Histoire +des Girondins_, 1847, which, in fact, was inspired by his newly +acquired belief in democracy. He became Minister of Foreign Affairs of +the Provisional Government in 1848, was elected to the new Assembly +from ten different departments, and became a member of the Executive +Committee, which made him one of the most conspicuous statesmen of +Europe. He was unsuited, however, for executive authority, and soon +disappeared from power, being supplanted in popular favor by Cavaignac. +His rise and fall in the field of statesmanship were equally sudden, +the same year including both. + +Lamartine now began to pay off his debts by literary labor. _Les +Confidences_, containing _Graziella_ and the ever popular _Raphael_ +came from the press in 1849, followed by the _Nouvelles Confidences_ in +1851. Among his other works are: _Genièvre_, 1849; _Le Tailleur de +Pierres de Saint Point_, 1851; _Fior d'Aliza_, 1866; and the histories, +_Histoire de la Restauration_, 1851-1853; _Histoire de la Turquie_, +1854; _Histoire de la Russie_, 1855. His wife died in 1863. He had not +been able to save much money, and, in 1867, when he was an old man, the +Government of France came to his assistance with a pension of 25,000 +francs. He died, March 1, 1869, having profoundly influenced the +literature of his time. His works have been translated into many +languages. A beautiful monument to his memory was erected by public +subscription near Mâcon, in 1874. + +C.C.S. + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS: + + ALPHONSE DE LAMARTINE + + RAPHAEL'S DEVOTION + + THE LOVERS' COMPACT + + RAPHAEL SEES JULIE IN PARIS + + + + +PROLOGUE + + +The real name of the friend who wrote these pages was not Raphael. We +often called him so in sport, because in his boyhood he much resembled +a youthful portrait of Raphael, which may be seen in the Barberini +gallery at Rome, at the Pitti palace in Florence, and at the Museum of +the Louvre. We had given him the name, too, because the distinctive +feature of this youth's character was his lively sense of the beautiful +in Nature and Art,--a sense so keen, that his mind was, so to speak, +merely the shadowing forth of the ideal or material beauty scattered +through-out the works of God and man. This feeling was the result of +his exquisite and almost morbid sensibility,--morbid, at least, until +time had somewhat blunted it. We would sometimes, in allusion to those +who, from their ardent longings to revisit their country, are called +home-sick, say that he was heaven-sick, and he would smile, and say +that we were right. + +This love of the beautiful made him unhappy; in another situation it +might have rendered him illustrious. Had he held a pencil he would have +painted the Virgin of Foligno; as a sculptor, he would have chiselled +the Psyche of Canova; had he known the language in which sounds are +written, he would have noted the aerial lament of the sea breeze +sighing among the fibres of Italian pines, or the breathing of a +sleeping girl who dreams of one she will not name; had he been a poet, +he would have written the stanzas of Tasso's "Erminia," the moonlight +talk of Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet," or Byron's portrait of +Haidee. + +He loved the good as well as the beautiful, but he loved not virtue for +its holiness, he loved it for its beauty. He would have been aspiring +in imagination, although he was not ambitious by character. Had he +lived in those ancient republics where men attained their full +development through liberty, as the free, unfettered body develops +itself in pure air and open sunshine, he would have aspired to every +summit like Cæsar, he would have spoken as Demosthenes, and would have +died as Cato. But his inglorious and obscure destiny confined him, +against his will, in speculative inaction,--he had wings to spread, and +no surrounding air to bear them up. He died young, straining his gaze +into the future, and ardently surveying the space over which he was +never to travel. + +Every one knows the youthful portrait of Raphael to which I have +alluded. It represents a youth of sixteen, whose face is somewhat paled +by the rays of a Roman sun, but on whose cheek still blooms the soft +down of childhood. A glancing ray of light seems to play on the velvet +of the cheek. He leans his elbow on a table; the arm is bent upwards to +support the head, which rests on the palm of the hand, and the +admirably modelled fingers are lightly imprinted on the cheek and chin; +the delicate mouth is thoughtful and melancholy; the nose is slender at +its rise, and slightly tinged with blue, as though the azure veins +shone through the fair transparency of the skin; the eyes are of that +dark heavenly hue which the Apennines wear at the approach of dawn, and +they gaze earnestly forward, but are slightly raised to heaven, as +though they ever looked higher than Nature,--a liquid lustre +illuminates their inmost depths, like rays dissolved in dew or tears. +On the scarcely arched brow, beneath the delicate skin, we trace the +muscles, those responsive chords of the instrument of thought; the +temples seem to throb with reflection; the ear appears to listen; the +dark hair, unskilfully cut by a sister or some young companion of the +studio, casts a shadow upon the hand and cheek; and a small cap of +black velvet, placed on the crown of the head, shades the brow. One +cannot pass before this portrait without musing sadly, one knows not +why. It represents the revery of youthful genius pausing on the +threshold of its destiny. What will be the fate of that soul standing +at the portal of life? + +Now, in idea, add six years to the age of that dreaming boy; suppose +the features bolder, the complexion more bronzed; place a few furrows +on the brow, slightly dim the look, sadden the lips, give height to the +figure, and throw out the muscles in bolder relief; let the Italian +costume of the days of Leo X. be exchanged for the sombre and plain +uniform of a youth bred in the simplicity of rural life, who seeks no +elegance in dress,--and, if the pensive and languid attitude be +retained, you will have the striking likeness of our "Raphael" at the +age of twenty-two. + +He was of a poor, though ancient family, from the mountainous province +of Forez, and his father, whose sole dignity was that of honor (worth +all others), had, like the nobles of Spain, exchanged the sword for the +plough. His mother, still young and handsome, seemed his sister, so +much did they resemble each other. She had been bred amid the luxurious +elegancies of a capital; and as the balmy essence of the rose perfumes +the crystal vase of the seraglio in which it has once been contained, +so she, too, had preserved that fragrant atmosphere of manners and +language which never evaporates entirely. + +In her secluded mountains, with the loved husband of her choice, and +with her children, in whom she had complacently centred all the pride +of her maternal heart, she had regretted nothing. She closed the fair +book of youth at these three words,--"God, husband, children." Raphael +especially was her best beloved. She would have purchased for him a +kingly destiny, but, alas, she had only her heart with which to raise +him up, for their slender fortune, and their dreams of prosperity, +would ever and anon crumble to their very foundation beneath the hand +of fate. + +Two holy men, driven by persecution to the mountains, had, soon after +the Reign of Terror, taken refuge in her house. They had been +persecuted as members of a mystical religious sect which dimly +predicted a renovation of the age. They loved Raphael, who was then a +mere child, and, obscurely prophesying his fate, pointed out his star +in the heavens, and told his mother to watch over that son with all her +heart. She reproached herself for being too credulous, for she was very +pious; but still she believed them. In such matters, a mother is so +easy of belief! Her credulity supported her under many trials, but +spurred her to efforts beyond her means to educate Raphael, and +ultimately deceived her. + +I had known Raphael since he was twelve years old, and next to his +mother he loved me best on earth. We had met since the conclusion of +our studies, first in Paris, then at Rome, whither he had been taken by +one of his father's relatives, for the purpose of copying manuscripts +in the Vatican Library. There he had acquired the impassioned language +and the genius of Italy. He spoke Italian better than his mother +tongue. At evening he would sit beneath the pines of the Villa +Pamphili, and gazing on the setting sun and on the white fragments +scattered on the plain, like the bleached bones of departed Rome, would +pour forth extemporaneous stanzas that made us weep; but he never +wrote. "Raphael," would I sometimes say, "why do you not write?" + +"Ah!" would he answer, "does the wind write what it sighs in this +harmonious canopy of leaves? Does the sea write the wail of its shores? +Nought that has been written is truly, really beautiful, and the heart +of man never discloses its best and most divine portion. It is +impossible! The instrument is of flesh, and the note is of fire! +Between what is felt and what is expressed," would he add, mournfully, +"there is the same distance as between the soul and the twenty-six +letters of an alphabet! Immensity of distance! Think you a flute of +reeds can give an idea of the harmony of the spheres?" + +I left him to return to Paris. He was at that time striving, through +his mother's interest, to obtain some situation in which he might by +active employment remove from his soul its heavy weight, and lighten +the oppressive burden of his fate. Men of his own age sought him, and +women looked graciously on him as he passed them by. But he never went +into society, and of all women he loved his mother only. + +We suddenly lost sight of him for three years; though we afterwards +learned that he had been seen in Switzerland, Germany, and Savoy; and +that in winter he passed many hours of his nights on a bridge, or on +one of the quays of Paris. He had all the appearance of extreme +destitution. It was only many years afterwards that we learned more. We +constantly thought of him, though absent, for he was one of those who +could defy the forgetfulness of friends. + +Chance reunited us once more after an interval of twelve years. It so +happened that I had inherited a small estate in his province, and when +I went there to dispose of it, I inquired after Raphael. I was told +that he had lost father, mother, and wife in the space of a few years; +that after these pangs of the heart, he had had to bear the blows of +fortune, and that of all the domain of his fathers, nothing now +remained to him but the old dismantled tower on the edge of the ravine, +the garden, orchard, and meadow, with a few acres of unproductive land. +These he ploughed himself, with two miserable cows; and was only +distinguished from his peasant neighbors by the book which he carried +to the field, and which he would sometimes hold in one hand, while the +other directed the plough. For many weeks, however, he had not been +seen to leave his wretched abode. It was supposed that he had started +on one of those long journeys which with him lasted years. "It would be +a pity," it was said, "for every one in the neighborhood loves him; +though poor, he does as much good as any rich man. Many a warm piece of +cloth has been made from the wool of his sheep; at night he teaches the +little children of the surrounding hamlets how to read and write, or +draw. He warms them at his hearth, and shares his bread with them, +though God knows he has not much to spare when crops are short, as this +year." + +It was thus all spoke of Raphael. I wished to visit at least the abode +of my friend, and was directed to the foot of the hillock, on the +summit of which stood the blackened tower, with its surrounding sheds +and stables, amid a group of hazel-trees. A trunk of a tree, which had +been thrown across, enabled me to pass over the almost dried-up torrent +of the ravine, and I climbed the steep path, the loose stones giving +way under my feet. Two cows and three sheep were grazing on the barren +sides of the hillock, and were tended by an old half-blind servant, who +was telling his beads seated on an ancient escutcheon of stone, which +had fallen from the arch of the doorway. + +He told me that Raphael was not gone, but had been ill for the last two +months; that it was plain he would never leave the tower but for the +churchyard; and the old man pointed with his meagre hand to the burying +ground on the opposite hill. I asked if I could see Raphael. "Oh, yes," +said the old man; "go up the steps, and draw the string of the latch of +the great hall-door on the left. You will find him stretched on his +bed, as gentle as an angel, and," added he drawing the back of his hand +across his eyes, "as simple as a child!" I mounted the steep and +worn-out steps which wound round the outside of the tower, and ended at +a small platform covered by a tiled roof, the broken tiles of which +strewed the stone steps. I lifted the latch of the door on my left, and +entered. Never shall I forget the sight. The chamber was vast, +occupying all the space between the four walls of the tower; it was +lighted from two windows, with stone cross-bars, and the dusty and +broken lozenge-shaped panes of glass were set in lead. The huge beams +of the ceiling were blackened by smoke, the floor was paved with +bricks, and in a high chimney with roughly fluted wooden jambs, an iron +pot filled with potatoes was suspended over a fire, where a long branch +was burning, or rather smoking. The only articles of furniture were two +high-backed arm-chairs, covered with a plain-colored stuff, of which it +was impossible to guess the original color; a large table, half covered +with an unbleached linen table-cloth in which a loaf was wrapped, the +other half being strewed pell-mell with papers and books; and, lastly, +a rickety, worm-eaten four-post bedstead, with its blue serge curtains +looped back to admit the rays of the sun, and the air from the open +window. + +A man who was still young, but attenuated by consumption and want, was +seated on the edge of the bed, occupied in throwing crumbs to a whole +host of swallows which were wheeling their flight around him. + +The birds flew away at the noise of my approach, and perched on the +cornice of the hall, or on the tester of the bed. I recognized Raphael, +pale and thin as he was. His countenance, though no longer youthful, +had not lost its peculiar character; but a change had come over its +loveliness, and its beauty was now of the grave. Rembrandt would have +wished for no better model for his "Christ in the Garden of Olives." +His dark hair clustered thickly on his shoulders, and was thrown back +in disorder, as by the weary hand of the laborer when the sweat and +toil of the day is over. The long untrimmed beard grew with a natural +symmetry that disclosed the graceful curve of the lip, and the contour +of the cheek; there was still the noble outline of the nose, the fair +and delicate complexion, the pensive and now sunken eye. His shirt, +thrown open on the chest, displayed his muscular though attenuated +frame, which might yet have appeared majestic, had his weakness allowed +him to sit erect. + +He knew me at a glance, made one step forward with extended arms, and +fell back upon the bed. We first wept, and then talked together. He +related the past; how, when he had thought to cull the flowers or +fruits of life, his hopes had ever been marred by fortune or by +death,--the loss of his father, mother, wife, and child; his reverses +of fortune, and the compulsory sale of his ancestral domain; he told +how he retired to his ruined home, with no other companionship than +that of his mother's old herdsman, who served him without pay, for the +love he bore to his house; and lastly, spoke of the consuming languor +which would sweep him away with the autumnal leaves, and lay him in the +churchyard beside those he had loved so well. His intense imaginative +faculty might be seen strong even in death, and in idea he loved to +endow with a fanciful sympathy the turf and flowers which would blossom +on his grave. + +"Do you know what grieves me most?" said he, pointing to the fringe of +little birds which were perched round the top of his bed. "It is to +think that next spring these poor little ones, my latest friends, will +seek for me in vain in the tower. They will no longer find the broken +pane through which to fly in; and on the floor, the little flocks of +wool from my mattress with which to build their nests. But the old +nurse, to whom I bequeath my little all, will take care of them as long +as she lives," he resumed, as if to comfort himself with the idea; "and +after her--Well! God will; for He feedeth the young ravens." + +He seemed moved while speaking of these little creatures. It was easy +to see that he had long been weaned from the sympathy of men, and that +the whole tenderness of his soul, which had been repulsed by them, was +now transferred to dumb animals. "Will you spend any time among our +mountains?" he inquired. "Yes," I replied. "So much the better," he +added; "you will close my eyes, and take care that my grave is dug as +close as possible to those of my mother, wife, and child." + +He then begged me to draw towards him a large chest of carved wood, +which was concealed beneath a bag of Indian corn at one end of the +room. I placed the chest upon the bed, and from it he drew a quantity +of papers which he tore silently to pieces for half an hour, and then +bid his old nurse sweep them into the fire. There were verses in many +languages, and innumerable pages of fragments, separated by dates, like +memoranda. "Why should you burn all these?" I timidly suggested; "has +not man a moral as well as a material inheritance to bequeath to those +who come after him? You are perhaps destroying thoughts and feelings +which might have quickened a soul." + +"What matters it?" he said; "there are tears enough in this world, and +we need not deposit a few more in the heart of man. These," said he, +showing the verses, "are the cast-off, useless feathers of my soul; it +has moulted since then, and spread its bolder wings for eternity!" He +then continued to burn and destroy, while I looked out of the broken +window at the dreary landscape. + +At length he called me once more to the bedside. "Here," said he--"save +this one little manuscript, which I have not courage to burn. When I am +gone, my poor nurse would make bags for her seeds with it, and I would +not that the name which fills its pages should be profaned. Take, and +keep it till you hear that I am no more. After my death you may burn +it, or preserve it till your old age, to think of me sometimes as you +glance over it." + +I hid the roll of paper beneath my cloak, and took my leave, resolving +inwardly to return the next day to soothe the last moments of Raphael +by my care and friendly discourse. As I descended the steps, I saw +about twenty little children with their wooden shoes in their hands, +who had come to take the lessons which he gave them, even on his +death-bed. A little further on, I met the village priest, who had come +to spend the evening with him. I bowed respectfully, and as he noted my +swollen eyes, he returned my salute with an air of mournful sympathy. + +The next day I returned to the tower. Raphael had died during the +night, and the village bell was already tolling for his burial. Women +and children were standing at their doors, looking mournfully in the +direction of the tower, and in the little green field adjoining the +church, two men, with spades and mattock, were digging a grave at the +foot of a cross. + +I drew near to the door. A cloud of twittering swallows were fluttering +round the open windows, darting in and out, as though the spoiler had +robbed their nests. + +Since then I have read these pages, and now know why he loved to be +surrounded by these birds, and what memories they waked in him, even to +his dying day. + + + + +RAPHAEL + + + + +I. + + +There are places and climates, seasons and hours, with their outward +circumstance, so much in harmony with certain impressions of the heart, +that Nature and the soul of man appear to be parts of one vast whole; +and if we separate the stage from the drama, or the drama from the +stage, the whole scene fades, and the feeling vanishes. If we take from +René the cliffs of Brittany, or the wild savannahs from Atala, the +mists of Swabia from Werther, or the sunny waves and scorched-up hills +from Paul and Virginia, we can neither understand Chateaubriand, +Bernardin de St. Pierre, or Goethe. Places and events are closely +linked, for Nature is the same in the eye as in the heart of man. We +are earth's children, and life is the same in sap as in blood; all that +the earth, our mother, feels and expresses to the eye by her form and +aspect, in melancholy or in splendor, finds an echo within us. One +cannot thoroughly enter into certain feelings, save in the spot where +they first had birth. + + + + +II. + + +At the entrance of Savoy, that natural labyrinth of deep valleys, which +descend like so many torrents from the Simplon, St. Bernard, and Mount +Cenis, and direct their course towards France and Switzerland, one +wider valley separates at Chambéry from the Alpine chain, and, striking +off towards Geneva and Annecy, displays its verdant bed, intersected +with lakes and rivers, between the Mont du Chat and the almost mural +mountains of Beauges. + +On the left, the Mont du Chat, like a gigantic rampart, runs in one +uninterrupted ridge for the space of two leagues, marking the horizon +with a dark and scarcely undulated line. A few jagged peaks of gray +rock at the eastern extremity alone break the almost geometrical +monotony of its appearance, and tell that it was the hand of God, and +not of man, that piled up these huge masses. Towards Chambéry, the +mountain descends by gentle steps to the plain, and forms natural +terraces, clothed with walnut and chestnut trees, entwined with +clusters of the creeping vine. In the midst of this wild, luxuriant +vegetation, one sees here and there some country-house shining through +the trees, the tall spire of a humble village, or the old dark towers +and battlements of some castle of a bygone age. The plain was once a +vast lake, and has preserved the hollowed form, the indented shores, +and advanced promontories of its former aspect; but in lieu of the +spreading waters, there are the yellow waves of the bending corn, or +the undulating summit of the verdant poplars. Here and there, a piece +of rising ground, which was once an island, may be seen with its +clusters of thatched roofs, half hidden among the branches. Beyond this +dried-up basin, the Mont du Chat rises more abrupt and bold, its base +washed by the waters of a lake, as blue as the firmament above it. This +lake, which is not more than six leagues in length, varies in breadth +from one to three leagues, and is surrounded and hemmed in with bold, +steep rocks on the French side; on the Savoy side, on the contrary, it +winds unmolested into several creeks and small bays, bordered by +vine-covered hillocks and well-wooded slopes, and skirted by fig-trees +whose branches dip into its very waters. The lake then dwindles away +gradually to the foot of the rocks of Châtillon, which open to afford a +passage for the overflow of its waters into the Rhône. The burial-place +of the princes of the house of Savoy, the abbey of Haute-Combe, stands +on the northern side upon its foundation of granite, and projects the +vast shadow of its spacious cloisters on the waters of the lake. +Screened during the day from the rays of the sun by the high barrier of +the Mont du Chat, the edifice, from the obscurity which envelops it, +seems emblematical of the eternal night awaiting at its gates, the +princes who descend from a throne into its vaults. Towards evening, +however, a ray of the setting sun strikes and reverberates on its +walls, as a beacon to mark the haven of life at the close of day. A few +fishing boats, without sails, glide silently on the deep waters, +beneath the shade of the mountain, and from their dingy color can +scarcely be distinguished from its dark and rocky sides. Eagles, with +their dusky plumage, incessantly hover over the cliffs and boats, as if +to rob the nets of their prey, or make a sudden swoop at the birds +which follow in the wake of the boats. + + + + +III. + + +At no great distance, the little town of Aix, in Savoy, steaming with +its hot springs, and redolent of sulphur, is seated on the slope of a +hill covered with vineyards, orchards, and meadows. A long avenue of +poplars, the growth of a century, connects the lake with the town, and +reminds one of those far-stretching rows of cypresses which lead to +Turkish cemeteries. The meadows and fields, on either side of this +road, are intersected by the rocky beds of the often dried-up mountain +torrents and shaded by giant walnut-trees, upon whose boughs vines as +sturdy as those of the woods of America hang their clustering branches. +Here and there, a distant vista of the lake shows its surface, +alternately sparkling or lead-colored, as the passing cloud or the hour +of the day may make it. + +When I arrived at Aix, the crowd had already left it. The hotels and +public places, where strangers and idlers flock during the summer, were +then closed. All were gone, save a few infirm paupers, seated in the +sun, at the door of the lowest description of inns; and some invalids, +past all hope of recovery, who might be seen, during the hottest hours +of the day, dragging their feeble steps along, and treading the +withered leaves that had fallen from the poplars during the night. + + + + +IV. + + +The autumn was mild, but had set in early. The leaves which had been +blighted by the morning frost fell in roseate showers from the vines +and chestnut-trees. Until noon, the mist overspread the valley, like an +overflowing nocturnal inundation, covering all but the tops of the +highest poplars in the plain; the hillocks rose in view like islands, +and the peaks of mountains appeared as headlands in the midst of ocean; +but when the sun rose higher in the heavens, the mild southerly breeze +drove before it all these vapors of earth. The rushing of the +imprisoned winds in the gorges of the mountains, the murmur of the +waters, and the whispering trees, produced sounds melodious or +powerful, sonorous or melancholy, and seemed in a few minutes to run +through the whole range of earth's joys and sorrows its strength or its +melancholy. They stirred up one's very soul, then died away like the +voices of celestial spirits, that pass and disappear. Silence, such as +the ear has no preception of elsewhere, succeeded, and hushed all to +rest. The sky resumed its almost Italian serenity; the Alps stood out +once more against a cloudless sky; the drops from the dissolving mist +fell pattering on the dry leaves, or shone like brilliants on the +grass. These hours were quickly over; the pale blue shades of evening +glided swiftly on, veiling the horizon with their cold drapery as with +a shroud. It seemed the death of Nature, dying, as youth and beauty +die, with all its charms, and all its serenity. + +Scenes such as these exhibiting Nature in its languid beauty were too +much in accordance with my feelings. While they gave an additional +charm to my own languor, they increased it, and I voluntarily plunged +into an abyss of melancholy. But it was a melancholy so replete with +thoughts, impressions, and elevating desires, with so soft a twilight +of the soul, that I had no wish to shake it off. It was a malady the +very consciousness of which was an allurement, rather than a pain, and +in which Death appeared but as a voluptuous vanishing into space. I had +given myself up to the charm, and had determined to keep aloof from +society, which might have dissipated it, and in the midst of the world +to wrap myself in silence, solitude, and reserve. I used my isolation +of mind as a shroud to shut out the sight of men, so as to contemplate +God and Nature only. + +Passing by Chambery, I had seen my friend, Louis de ----; I had found +him in the same state of mind as myself, disgusted with the bitterness +of life, his genius, unappreciated, the body worn out by the mind, and +all his better feelings thrown back upon his heart. + +Louis had mentioned to me a quiet and secluded house, in the higher +part of the town of Aix, where invalids were admitted to board. The +establishment was conducted by a worthy old doctor (who had retired +from the profession), and communicated with the town by a narrow +pathway, which lay between the streams that issue from the hot springs. +The back of the house looked on a garden surrounded by trellis and vine +arbors; and beyond that there were paths where goats only were to be +seen, which led to the mountain through sloping meadows, and through +woods of chestnut and walnut-trees. Louis had promised to join me at +Aix, as soon as he should have settled some business, consequent on the +death of his mother, which detained him at Chambéry. I looked forward +with pleasure to his arrival, for we understood each other, and the +same feeling of disenchantment was common to us both. Grief knits two +hearts in closer bonds than happiness ever can; and common sufferings +are far stronger links than common joys. Louis was, at that particular +time, the only person whose society was not distasteful to me, and yet +I awaited his arrival without eagerness or impatience. + + + + +V. + + +I was kindly and graciously received in the house of the old doctor, +and a room was allotted to me, which overlooked the garden and the +country beyond. Almost all the other rooms were untenanted, and the +long table d'hôte was deserted. At meal times a few invalids from +Chambéry and Turin, who had over-stayed the season, assembled with the +family. These boarders had arrived late, when most of the visitors of +the baths were already gone, in hopes of finding cheaper lodgings, and +a style of living in accordance with their poverty. There was no one +with whom I could converse or form a passing acquaintance. This the old +doctor and his wife soon saw, and threw the blame on the advanced +season, and on the bathers who had left too soon. They often spoke with +visible enthusiasm, and tender and compassionate respect, of a young +stranger, a lady, who had remained at the baths in a weak and languid +state of health, which it was feared would degenerate into slow +consumption. She had lived alone with her maid for the last three +months, in one of the most retired apartments of the house, taking her +meals in her own rooms; and was never seen except at her window that +looked towards the garden, or on the stairs when she returned from a +donkey ride in the mountains. + +I felt compassion for this young creature, a stranger like myself in a +foreign land, who must be ill, since she had come in quest of health, +and was doubtless sad, since she avoided the bustle and even the sight +of company; but I felt no desire to see her spite of the admiration her +grace and beauty had excited on those around me. My worn-out heart was +wearied with wretched and short-lived attachments, of which I blushed +to preserve the memories; not one of which I could recur to with pious +regret, save that of poor Antonina. I was penitent and ashamed of my +past follies and disorders; disgusted and satiated of vulgar +allurements; and being naturally of a timid and reserved disposition, +without that self-confidence which prompts some men to court +adventures, or to seek the familiarity of chance acquaintances, I +neither wished to see nor to be seen. Still less did I dream of love. +On the contrary, I rejoiced, in my stern and mistaken pride, to think +that I had forever stifled that weakness in my heart, and that I was +alone to feel, or to suffer in this nether world. As to happiness, I no +longer believed in it. + + + + +VI. + + +I passed my days in my room with no other company than some books which +my friend had sent me from Chambéry. In the afternoon, I used to ramble +alone amid the wild mountains which, on the Italian side, form the +boundary of the valley of Aix; and returning home in the evening, +harassed and fatigued, would sit down to supper, and then retire to my +room and spend whole hours seated at my window. I gazed at the blue +firmament above, which, like the abyss attracting him who leans over +it, ever attracts the thoughts of men as though it had secrets to +reveal. Sleep found me still wandering on a sea of thoughts, and +seeking no shore. When morning came, I was awaked by the rays of the +sun and by the murmur of the hot springs; and I would plunge into my +bath, and after breakfast recommence the same rambles and the same +melancholy musings as the day before. Sometimes in the evening, when I +looked out of my window into the garden, I saw another lighted window +not far from my own and the face of a female, who, with one hand +throwing back the long black tresses from her brow, gazed like myself +on the mountains, the sky, and moonlit garden. I could only distinguish +the pale, pure, and almost transparent profile and the long, dark waves +of the hair, which was smoothed down at the temples. I used to see this +face standing out on the brilliant background of the window, which was +lighted from a lamp in the bedroom. At times, too, I had heard a +woman's voice saying a few words or giving some orders in the +apartment. The slightly foreign, though pure accent, the vibrations of +that soft, languid, and yet marvellously sonorous voice, of which I +heard the harmony without understanding the words had interested me. +Long after my window was closed that voice remained in my ear like the +prolonged sound of an echo. I had never heard any like it, even in +Italy; it sounded through the half-closed teeth like those small +metallic lyres that the children of the Islands of the Archipelago use +when they play on the seashore. It was more like a ringing sound than +like a voice; I had noticed it, little dreaming that that voice would +ring loud and deep forever through my life. The next day I thought no +more of it. + +One day, however, on returning home earlier, and entering by the little +garden-door near the arbor, I had a nearer view of the stranger, who +was seated on a bench under the southern wall, enjoying the warm rays +of the sun. She thought herself alone, for she had not heard the sound +of the door as I closed it behind me, and I could contemplate her +unobserved. We were within twenty paces of each other, and were only +separated by a vine, which was half-stripped of its leaves. The shade +of the vine-leaves and the rays of the sun played and chased each other +alternately over her face. She appeared larger than life, as she sat +like one of those marble statues enveloped in drapery, of which we +admire the beauty without distinguishing the form. The folds of her +dress were loose and flowing, and the drapery of a white shawl, folded +closely round her, showed only her slender and rather attenuated hands, +which were crossed on her lap. In one, she carelessly held one of those +red flowers which grow in the mountains beneath the snow, and are +called, I know not why, "poets' flowers." One end of her shawl was +thrown over her head like a hood, to protect her from the damp evening +air. She was bent languidly forward, her head inclined upon her left +shoulder; and the eyelids, with their long dark lashes, were closed +against the dazzling rays of the sun. Her complexion was pale, her +features motionless, and her countenance so expressive of profound and +silent meditation, that she resembled a statue of Death; but of that +Death which bears away the soul beyond the reach of human woes to the +regions of eternal light and love. The sound of my footsteps on the dry +leaves made her look up. Her large half-closed eyes were of that +peculiar tint resembling the color of lapis lazuli, streaked with +brown, and the drooping lid had that natural fringe of long dark +lashes, which Eastern women strive by art to imitate, in order to +impart a voluptuous wildness to their look and energy even to their +languor. The light of those eyes seemed to come from a distance which I +have never measured in any other mortal eye. It was as the rays of the +stars, which seem to seek us out, and to approach us as we gaze, and +yet have travelled millions of miles through the heavens. The high and +narrow forehead seemed as if compressed by intense thought, and joined +the nose by an almost straight and Grecian line. The lips were thin and +slightly depressed at the corners with an habitual expression of +sadness; the teeth of pearl, rather than of ivory, as is the case with +the daughters of the sea or islands. The face was oval, slightly +emaciated in the lower part and at the temples, and, on the whole she +seemed rather an embodying of thought than a human being. Besides this +general expression of revery there was a languid look of suffering and +passion, which made it impossible to gaze once on that face without +bearing its ineffaceable image stamped forever in the memory. In a +word, hers was a contagious sickness of the soul, veiled in a shape of +beauty the most majestic and attractive that the dreams of mortal man +ever embodied. + +I passed rapidly before her, bowing respectfully, and my deferential +air and downcast eyes seemed to ask forgiveness for having disturbed +her. A slight blush tinged her pale cheeks at my approach. I returned +to my room trembling and wondering that the evening air should thus +have chilled me. A few minutes later I saw her re-enter the house, and +cast one indifferent look at my window. I saw her again on the +following days, at the same hour, both in the garden and in the court, +but never dared to think of accosting her. I even met her sometimes +near the châlets, with the little girls who drove her donkey or picked +strawberries for her, at other times, in her boat on the lake; but I +never showed any sign of recognition or interest, beyond a grave and +respectful bow; she would return it with an air of melancholy +abstraction, and we each went our separate ways, on the hills or on the +waters. + + + + +VII. + + +And yet when I had not met her in the course of the day, I felt sad and +disturbed; when evening came, I would go down to the garden, I knew not +why, and stay there, with my eyes riveted on her windows, spite of the +cold night air. I could not make up my mind to return to the house +until I had caught a glimpse of her shadow on the curtains, or heard a +note of her piano, or one of the strange tones of her voice. + +The apartment she occupied was contiguous to my room, from which it was +separated by a strong oaken door with two bolts. I could hear +confusedly the sound of her footsteps, the rustling of her gown, or the +crumpling of the leaves of her book as she turned over the pages. I +sometimes fancied I heard her breathe. Instinctively I placed my +writing-table on which my lamp stood near the door, for I felt less +lonely when I heard these sounds of life around me. It seemed to me +that this unknown neighbor, who insensibly occupied all my time, shared +my life. In a word, before I had the slightest idea that I loved, I had +already all the thoughts, the fancies, and the refinements of passion. +Love did not consist for me in one particular symptom, look, or +confession, in any one external circumstance against which I could have +fortified myself. It was an invisible miasma diffused in the +surrounding atmosphere; it was in the air and light, in the expiring +season, in my lonely life, in the mysterious proximity of another +equally isolated existence; it was in the long excursions which took me +from her and made me feel the more forcibly the unconscious attraction +which recalled me; in her white dress, seen at a distance through the +mountain firs; in her dark hair loosened by the wind on the lake; in +the light at her window, in the slight creaking of the wooden floor +under her tread, in the rustling of her pen on the paper when she +wrote, in the very silence of those long autumnal evenings which she +spent in reading, writing, or in thought within a few paces of me; and +lastly, it was in the fascination of her fantastic beauty, too much +seen though scarcely beheld, and which, when I closed my eyes, I still +saw through the wall, as though it had been transparent. + +With this feeling, however, there mingled no desire or eager curiosity, +on my part, to find out the secret reason of her solitude, or to break +down the fragile barrier of our almost voluntary separation. What to me +was this woman whom I had met by chance among the mountains of a +foreign land, ill in health and sick at heart though she might be? I +had shaken the dust from my feet, or at least I thought I had, and felt +no wish to hold to the world once more by any link of the mind, or of +the senses, still less by any weakness of the heart. I felt supreme +contempt for love, for under its name I had met only with affectation, +coquetry, fickleness, and levity; if I except the love of Antonina, +which had been but a childish ecstasy, a flower fallen from the stem +before its hour of perfume. + + + + + +VIII. + + +Again, who was this woman? Was she a being like myself, or one of those +visions which, like living meteors, shoot athwart the sky of our +imagination, dazzling the eye? Was she of my own country, or from some +distant land, from some island of the tropics, or the far East, whither +I could not follow her? After adoring her for a few days, might I not +have to mourn forever her absence? Was her heart free to respond to +mine? Was it likely that enthralling beauty such as hers should have +traversed the world and reached maturity without kindling love in some +of those upon whom the glance of her eye had fallen? Had she a father +or a mother, brothers or sisters? Was she not married? Was there not +one man in the world who, though separated from her by inexplicable +circumstances, lived for her only, as she lived for him? + +All this I said to myself, to drive away this one besetting, hopeless +fancy. I scorned even to make inquiries. I was too much of a stoic to +strive to penetrate the unknown, and thought it more dignified, or +perhaps more pleasant, to go on dreaming in uncertainty. + + + + +IX. + + +The old doctor and his family had not the pride of heart that induced +me to respect her secret. At table our hosts, with the curiosity +natural to all those who live by strangers, would interpret every +circumstance, discuss every probability, and collect even the vaguest +notions concerning the stranger. I soon learned all that had transpired +respecting her, although I never interrogated and even studiously +avoided making her the subject of our discourse. In vain I sought to +turn the conversation into another channel; every day the same subject +recurred; men, women, children, bathers, and servants, the guides of +the mountains, and the boatmen on the lake, had all been equally struck +and charmed by her, although she spoke to no one. She was an object of +universal respect and admiration. + +There are some beings who, by their dazzling radiance, draw all around +them into their sphere of attraction without desiring or even +perceiving it. It seems as though certain natures were like the suns of +some moral system, obliging the looks, thoughts, and hearts of their +satellites to gravitate around them. Their moral and physical beauty is +a spell, their fascination a chain, love is but their emanation. We +track their upward course from earth to heaven, and when they vanish in +their youth and beauty, all else seems dark to the eye that has been +blinded by their brilliancy. The vulgar, even, recognize these superior +beings by some mysterious sign. They admire without comprehending, as +the blind enjoy the sunshine, who have never seen the sun. + + + + +X. + + +It was thus I learned that the young stranger lived in Paris. Her +husband was an old man, who had rendered his name illustrious, at the +close of the last century, by many discoveries which held a high place +in the history of science. He had been struck with the beauty and +talent of this young girl, and had adopted her in order to bequeath to +her his name and fortune. She loved him as a father, wrote to him every +day, and sent him a journal of her feelings and impressions. Two years +ago she had fallen into a declining state, which had alarmed him. She +had been recommended to remove southward and try change of air, and her +husband, being too infirm to accompany her, had confided her to the +care of some friends from Lausanne, with whom she had travelled all +over Italy and Switzerland. The change had not restored her to health, +and a Genevese doctor, fearing a disease of the heart, had recommended +the baths of Aix; he was to come to fetch her, and take her back to +Paris at the beginning of the winter. + +This was all I learned of a life already so dear. Still I persisted in +fancying that all these details were indifferent to me. I felt a tender +pity for this enchanting and beautiful being, blighted in the flower of +youth by a disease which, while it consumes life, renders the +sensations more acute and stimulates the flame which it is destined to +extinguish. When I met the stranger on the staircase, I sought to +discover the trace of her sufferings in the scarcely perceptible lines +of pain round her somewhat pale lips, or in the dark circle which want +of sleep had left round her beautiful blue eyes. I was interested by +her beauty, but still more by the shadow of death by which she was +overcast, and which made her appear more as a phantom of the night than +as a reality. This was all. Our lives rolled on; we continued to live +in close proximity as far as distance was concerned, but morally, as +widely separated as ever. + + + + +XI. + + +I had given up my mountain excursions since the snow had fallen on the +highest peaks of Savoy, for the gentle warmth of the latter days of +October seemed to have taken refuge in the valley; and on the banks of +the lake the weather was still mild. The long avenue of poplars was my +delight, with its gleams of sunshine, waving tops, and murmuring +branches. I spent, also, a great part of my time on the water. The +boatmen all knew me, and I am told they still remember how we used to +sail into the wildest creeks and remotest bays of France and Savoy. The +young stranger, too, would sometimes embark in the middle of the day +for less distant expeditions. The boatmen, who were proud of her +confidence, always took care to give her notice of the least symptom of +wind or cold weather, thinking far more of her health and safety than +of their own gains. On one occasion, however, they were themselves +deceived. They had undertaken to row her safely over to Haute-Combe, on +the opposite shore of the lake, in order to visit the ruins of the +Abbey. They had scarcely got over two-thirds of the distance, when a +sudden gust of wind, rushing forth from the narrow gorges of the valley +of the Rhône, stirred up the waves of the lake, and produced one of +those short seas which so often prove fatal. The sail of the little +boat was soon gone, and it seemed like a nutshell dancing on the +still-increasing waves. It was impossible to think of returning, and +full half an hour of fatigue and danger must elapse before the boat +could be moored in safety under the hanging cliffs of Haute-Combe. Fate +willed that my wandering sail should be on the lake at the same hour. I +was in a larger boat, with four stout oarsmen, and was going to visit +M. de Chatillon, a relation of my Chambéry friend. His chateau was +situated on the summit of a rock, in a small island at one end of the +lake. A few strokes of the oar would have brought us into the harbor of +Chatillon, but I, who had unconsciously been watching the other boat +and saw it struggling against the wind, perceived the danger in which +it was placed. We put about immediately, and with one heart affronted +the tempest and the dangers of the lake, to try and succor the little +craft, which every now and then disappeared, and was lost in a mist of +foam and spray. My anxiety was intense during the hour that was +required to cross the lake before we could join the little bark. When +we came up to it, the shore was close at hand, and one long wave lodged +it in safety before our eyes on the sand at the foot of the ruined +Abbey. + +We shouted for joy, and rushed through the water to the boat, in order +to carry the invalid ashore. The poor boatman was making signs of +distress, and calling for help; he was pointing to the bottom of the +boat, at something we could not see. On reaching the spot where he +stood, we found that the stranger had fainted, and was lying at the +bottom of the boat. Her body and arms were completely immersed in +water, and her head rested like that of a corpse against the little +wooden chest at the stern, in which the boatmen put their tackle and +provisions. Her hair streamed in disorder about her neck and shoulders, +like the dark wings of a lifeless bird floating on the surface of the +waters. Her face, from which all color had not fled, was calm and +peaceful as in slumber and shone with that preternatural beauty death +leaves on the countenance of those who die young; like the last and +fairest ray of retiring life, lingering on the brow from which it is +about to depart, or the first beam of dawning immortality on the +features which are henceforward to be hallowed in the memory of those +who survive. I had never before, and have never since, seen her so +divinely transfigured. Was Death the most perfect form of her celestial +beauty, or did Providence intend this first and solemn impression, as a +foreshadowing of that unchangeable image of beauty, which I was +destined to entomb in my memory, and eternally evoke! + +We jumped into the boat, to take up the apparently dying woman, and +carry her beyond the rocks. I placed my hand upon her heart, and +approached my ear to her lips, as I would to those of a sleeping +infant. The heart beat irregularly, but with strong pulsations; the +breath was warm, and I saw that she had only fainted from terror and +from cold. One of the boatmen took up her feet, I supported the +shoulders and the head, which rested on my breast. She gave no sign of +life while we carried her thus to a fisherman's house, below the rocks +of Haute-Combe, which serves as an inn for the boatmen, when they +conduct strangers to the ruins. This poor dwelling consisted merely in +one long, dark, smoky room, furnished with a table upon which were +wine, bread, and cheese. A wooden ladder led to an upper room, which +was lighted by a single round window without glass, looking towards the +lake. Almost the whole space of this room was occupied by three beds, +which could be closed up by wooden doors, like large presses. The whole +family slept there. We confided the stranger, who was still insensible, +to the care of the two girls of the house and their mother, and we +stood outside the door, while they extended a mattress near the +chimney, and having lighted a fire of furze, undressed her, dried her +clothes, chafed her limbs, and wrung her streaming hair; they then +carried her upstairs, and placed her in one of the beds, on which they +had spread clean sheets, which had been warmed with one of the heated +hearth-stones, according to the custom of the peasants of that country. +They tried in vain to make her swallow a few drops of wine and vinegar +to bring her to life; but finding all their efforts unavailing, gave +way to tears and lamentations, which soon recalled us into the house. +"The lady is dead! the lady is dead! We can only weep, and send for a +priest." The boatmen mingled their cries with those of the women, and +increased their confusion. I rushed up the ladder and entered the room. +The dim twilight still showed the bed over which I bent. I touched her +forehead; it was burning hot; I could distinguish the low and regular +breathing which made the coarse brown sheet alternately rise and fall +on the chest. I bid the women be quiet, and giving some money to one of +the boatmen, ordered him to fetch a doctor, who, I was told, lived two +leagues off, in a little village on the Mont du Chat. The boatman set +off at full speed; the others, comforted by the assurance that the lady +was not dead, sat down to eat. The women went and came from the parlor +to the cellar, and from the cellar to the poultry-yard, to make +preparations for supper. I remained seated on one of the bags of Indian +corn at the foot of the bed, my hands clasped on my knees, and my eyes +fixed on the inanimate face and closed eyelids of the sufferer. Night +had closed in. One of the young girls had fastened the shutter, and +suspended a small copper lamp against the wall; its rays fell on the +sheets and on the sleeping countenance like the light of holy tapers on +a death-bed. Since then, I have thus watched, alas, by other bedsides, +but the sleepers never woke! + + + + +XII. + + +Never perhaps was the heart of man absorbed for so many long hours in +one strange and overwhelming speculation. Suspended between death and +love, I was unable to divine, as I gazed on the angel form that lay +sleeping before me, whether this night in its mystery would bring-forth +endless anguish, or whether undying love would come in the morning, +with returning life and joy. In the convulsive movements of her +troubled sleep she had thrown the sheet off one of her shoulders upon +which fell the long luxuriant curls of her lustrous hair. The neck had +yielded to the weight of the head, which was thrown back on the pillow, +and slightly inclined towards the left shoulder; one of the arms was +disengaged from the cover-lid and was placed beneath the head, showing +the ivory whiteness of the elbow, which stood out on the coarse brown +linen in which the peasant women had dressed her. On one of the fingers +of the hand, which was half concealed in the masses of dark hair, there +was a small gold ring with a sparkling ruby, on which the rays of the +lamp flashed. The girls had lain down on the floor without undressing, +and their mother had fallen asleep with her hands folded on the back of +a wooden chair. As soon as the cock crowed in the yard, they got up, +and taking their wooden shoes in their hands, noiselessly descended the +ladder to go to work. I remained alone. + +The first gleams of dawn came through the closed shutter in almost +imperceptible streaks of light. I opened the window in the hope that +the balmy morning air from the lake and mountains, which awakened all +Nature, would have the same effect on one whom I would willingly have +revived at the cost of my own life. The chill air rushed into the room, +and extinguished the expiring lamp. Nothing stirred on the bed. I heard +the poor women below joining in common prayer, before commencing their +day's labor. The thought of praying likewise entered my heart. I felt, +as all do who have exhausted the whole strength of their soul, the wish +to superadd the force of some mysterious and preterhuman power to the +impotent tension of ardent desires. I knelt on the floor, with my hands +clasped on the edge of the bed, and my eyes riveted on the face of the +sleeper. I wept, and prayed long and fervently; the tears chased each +other down my face and hid from my blinded eyes the features of the one +whose recovery I so ardently desired. My whole heart and soul were so +absorbed in one feeling and one sensation, that I might have remained +hours in the same attitude without being aware of the lapse of time, or +the pain of kneeling on the stone floor; when suddenly, while I was +unconsciously wiping away my tears, I felt a hand touch mine, part the +hair from my face, and gently rest upon my head, as if to bless me. + +I looked up with a cry of delight; I saw her unclosed eyes, her smiling +lips, her hand extended towards mine, and heard these words: "O God! I +thank thee. I have now a brother!" + + + + +XIII. + + +[Illustration: RAPHAEL'S DEVOTION.] + + + +The cool morning air had awakened her, while I was praying by her +bedside, with my face buried in my hands. She had noted my ardent pity, +and my ardent prayer, and had recognized me by the clear light of +morning, which now streamed into the chamber. When she had fainted she +was lonely and indifferent, and had revived under the tender care, and +perhaps the love of a pitying stranger. She, who, in the neglected +flower of her days, had been deprived of all the kindred ties of the +heart, had unexpectedly found in me the care and pity, the tears and +prayers, of a youthful brother; and that tender name had escaped her +lips at the moment that returning life gave her the consciousness of so +great a joy. + +"A brother! Ah, no, not a brother!" I exclaimed, reverently removing +her hand from my brow, as though I had not been worthy of her touch, +"not a brother, but a slave, a living shadow following on your steps, +who asks but one blessing of Heaven, and one felicity on earth--the +right of remembering this night; who only desires to preserve eternally +the image of the superhuman vision he would wish to follow unto death, +or for whom alone he could bear to live." As I faltered out these words +in a low voice, the rosy tints of life gradually reappeared on her +cheeks, a sad smile, implying an obstinate unbelief in happiness, +played round her mouth, and she raised her eyes to the ceiling, as +though they listened to words which responded not to the ear, but to +the thoughts. Never was the change from life to death, from a dream to +reality, so rapid; on her countenance, now blooming with youth and +refreshed by rest, surprise, languor, delight, repose, joy and +melancholy, timidity and grace were all painted in quick succession. +Her radiance seemed to illumine the dark recess more than the light of +morning. There existed more languor, more revealings, more sympathy in +her looks and silence, than in millions of words. The human face speaks +a language to the eye, and in youth the countenance is an instrument of +which one look of passion sweeps the keys. It transmits from soul to +soul mysteries of mute communion, which cannot be translated into +words. My countenance, too, must have revealed what I felt to those +eyes which were bent so earnestly upon me. My damp clothes, my long, +dishevelled hair, my eyes heavy with watching, my pale and anxious +looks, the pious enthusiasm with which I bent before the holiness of +suffering beauty, my emotion, joy, and surprise, the dimness of the +room in which I durst not take a step for fear of dispelling the +enchantment of so divine a dream, the first rays of sun, which showed +the tears still glistening in my eyes,--all conspired to lend to my +countenance a power of expression, and a look of tenderness, which it +will doubtless never wear again in the course of a long life. + +Unable to bear any longer the reaction of these feelings, and the +internal vibration of such silence, I called up the women. On entering +the room, they broke out into repeated exclamations of surprise at the +sight of a resurrection which appeared to them a miracle. At the same +moment the doctor made his appearance. He prescribed repose and an +infusion of certain plants of the mountain which allay the irregular +movements of the heart. He reassured every one by telling us that the +lady's malady was one of youth, produced by excessive sensibility, and +which time would mitigate; that it was but a superabundance of life, +although it often wore the appearance of death, and was never fatal, +except when inward grief or some moral cause changed its character into +one of habitual melancholy, or an unconquerable distaste to life. While +some of the women went out into the fields, to gather the samples +ordered by the doctor, and others were ironing out her damp clothes in +the lower room, I left the house to wander alone among the ruins of the +old Abbey. + + + + +XIV. + + +But my heart was too full of its own emotions to feel interested in the +anchorites of the Abbey. The enthusiasm and self-denial of the early +monasteries had subsided into a profession; and at a later period their +lives, unlinked with those of their fellow-beings, had fruitlessly +evaporated within these cloisters, and left no trace behind. I felt no +regret as I stood upon their tombs, but only wondered, as I noted how +speedily Nature seizes on the empty dwellings and deserted abodes of +man, and how superior is the living architecture of shrubs and briers, +waving ivy, wall-flowers and creeping plants, throwing their mantle on +the ruined walls, to the cold symmetry of stones, or the lifeless +ornaments of the chiselled monuments of men. + +There was now more sunshine, music, and perfume, more holy psalmody of +the winds and waters, of birds, and sonorous echoes of the lakes and +forests, beneath the crumbling pillars, dismantled nave, and shattered +roof of the empty Abbey, than there had been holy tapers, fumes of +incense and monotonous chants in the ceremonies and processions that +filled it night and day. Nature is the high priest, the noblest +decorator, the holiest poet and most inspired musician of God. The +young swallows in their nests below the broken cornice, greeting their +mother with their cheerful chirping; the sighing of the breeze, which +seems to bear to the unpeopled cloisters the sound of flapping sails, +the lament of the waves, and the dying notes of the fisherman's song; +the balmy emanations which now and then are wafted through the nave; +the flowers which shed their leaves upon the tombs, the waving of the +green drapery which clothes the walls; the sonorous and reverberated +echoes of the stranger's steps upon the vaults where sleep the +dead,--are all as full of piety, holy thoughts, and unbounded +aspirations, as was the monastery in its days of sacred splendor. Man +is no longer there, with all his miserable passions contracted by the +narrow pale in which they were confined, but not extinguished; but God +is there, never so plainly seen as in the works of Nature,--God whose +unshadowed splendor seems to re-enter once more these intellectual +graves, whose vaulted roofs no longer intercept the glorious sunshine +and the light of heaven. + + + + +XV. + + +I was not at the time sufficiently composed to understand my own +feelings. I felt as one just relieved from a heavy burden, who breathes +freely, relaxes his contracted muscles, and walks to and fro in his +strength, as though he could devour space, and inhale all the air of +heaven. My own heart was the burden of which I had been relieved, and, +in giving it to another, I felt as if I had for the first time entered +into the fulness of life. Man is so truly born to love, that it is only +when he has the consciousness of loving fully and entirely that he +feels himself really a man. Until then he is disturbed and restless, +inconstant and wandering in his thoughts; but from thenceforward all +his waverings cease, he feels at rest, and sees his destiny before him. + +I sat down upon the ivy-covered wall of a high dilapidated terrace +which overlooked the lake. My eyes wandered over the bright expanse of +water and the luminous immensity of the sky; they were so well blended +in the azure line of the horizon that it would have been impossible to +define where the sky commenced, and where the lake terminated. I seemed +to float in the pure ether, or to be merged in a universal ocean. But +the inward joy which inundated my soul was far more infinite, radiant, +and incommensurate, than the atmosphere with which I seemed to mingle. +I could not have defined my joy, or rather my inward serenity. It was +as some unfathomable secret revealed to me by feelings instead of +words,--as the sensation of the eye passing from darkness into light, +or as the rapture of some mystical soul, secure in the possession of +its God. It was dazzling light, intoxication without giddiness, repose +without heaviness, or immobility. I could have lived on thus during as +many thousand years as there were ripples on the lake, or sands upon +its shores, without perceiving that more seconds had elapsed than were +required for a single respiration. When the immortal dwellers in heaven +first lose the consciousness of the duration of time, they must feel +thus; it was an immutable thought, in the eternity of an instant. + + + + +XVI. + + +These sensations were not precise, or definable. They were too complete +to be scanned; thought could not divide, nor reflection analyze them. +They did not take their rise in the loveliness of the superhuman +creature that I adored, for the shadow of death still lay between her +beauty and my eyes; or in the pride of being loved by her, for I knew +not if I was more in her sight than a dream of morning; or in the hope +of possessing her charms, for my respect was too far above such vile +gratifications of the senses even to stoop to them in thought; or in +the satisfaction of displaying my triumph, for selfish vanity held no +place in my heart, and I knew no one in that secluded spot before whom +I could profane my love by disclosing it; or in the hope of linking her +fate with mine, for I knew she was another's; or in the certainty of +seeing her, and the happiness of following her steps, for I was as +little free as she was, and in a few days fate was to divide us; nor, +lastly, in the certainty of being beloved, for I knew nothing of her +heart, except the one word and look of gratitude that she had addressed +to me. + +Mine was another feeling; pure, calm, disinterested, and immaterial. It +was repose of the heart, after having met with the long sought-for, and +till then unfound, object of its restless adoration; the long-desired +idol of that vague, unquiet adoration of supreme beauty which agitates +the soul until the divinity has been discovered, and that our heart has +clung to as a straw to the magnet, or mingled with as sighs with the +surrounding air. + +Strange to say, I felt no impatience to see her once more, to hear her +voice, to be near her, or to converse freely with one who had become +the sole object of my life and thoughts. I had seen her and she had +become part of myself. Henceforward nothing could rob my soul of its +possession; far or near, present or absent, I bore her with me; all +else was indifferent. Perfect love is patient, because it is absolute, +and knows itself to be eternal. No power could tear her from my heart. +I felt that henceforward her image was completely mine; it was to me +what light is to the eye that has once seen it, air to the lungs that +have once inhaled it, or thought to the mind in which it has once been +conceived. I defied Heaven itself to rob me of this divine embodying of +my desires. I had seen her, and that was enough. For the contemplative, +to see is to enjoy. It scarcely mattered to me whether she loved me, or +whether she passed me by without perceiving me. I had been touched by +her splendor, and was still enveloped in her rays; she could no more +withdraw them from me than the sun can take from the earth the beams +which he has shed upon it. I felt that darkness and night had fled +forever from my heart, and that she would evermore shine there, as she +then shone, though I lived for a thousand years. + + + + +XVII. + + +This conviction gave to my love all the security of immutability, the +calm of certainty, the overflowing ecstasy of joy that would never be +impaired. I took no note of time, knowing that I had before me hours +without end, and that each in succession would give me back her inward +presence. I might be separated from her during a century without +reducing by one day the eternity of my love. I went and came; sat down +and got up again. I ran, then stopped and walked on without feeling the +ground beneath my feet, like those phantoms which glide upon earth, +upheld by their impalpable, ethereal nature. I extended my arms to +grasp the air, the light, the lake; I would have clasped all Nature in +one vast embrace in thankfulness that she had become incarnate, for me, +in a being that united all her charms and splendor, power, and +delights. I knelt on the stones and briers of the ruins without feeling +them and on the brink of precipices without perceiving them. I uttered +inarticulate words, which were lost in the sound of the noisy waters of +the lake; I strove to pierce the vaults of heaven, and to carry my song +of gratitude, and my ecstasy of joy, into the very presence of God. I +was no longer a man, I was a living hymn of praise, prayer, adoration, +worship of overflowing, speechless thankfulness. I felt an intoxication +of the heart, a madness of the soul; my body had lost the consciousness +of its materiality and I no longer believed in time, or space, or +death. The new life of love which had gushed forth in my heart gave me +the consciousness, the anticipated enjoyment, of the fulness of +immortality. + + + + +XVIII. + + +I was made aware of the flight of time by seeing the meridian sun +striking on the summit of the Abbey walls. I came down the hill through +the woods bounding from rock to rock, and from tree to tree. My heart +beat as though it would burst. As I approached the little inn, I saw +the stranger in a sloping meadow behind the house. She was seated at +the foot of a sunny wall, against which the inhabitants of the place +had piled a few stones. Her white dress shone out on the verdant +meadow, and the shade of a haystack screened her face from the sun. She +was reading in a little book that lay open on her lap, and every now +and then interrupted her reading to play with the children from the +mountain, who came to offer her flowers, or chestnuts. On seeing me, +she attempted to rise as if to meet me half-way, and her gesture was +quite sufficient to encourage me to approach. She received me with a +blushing look and tremulous lip, which I perceived, and which increased +my own bashfulness. The strangeness of our situation was so +embarrassing, that we remained some time without finding a word to say +to each other. At last, with a timid and scarcely intelligible gesture, +she motioned to me to sit down on the hay, not far from her; it seemed +to me that she has expected me, and had kept a place for me. I sat down +respectfully at some distance. Our silence remained unbroken, and it +was evident that we were both ineffectually seeking to exchange some of +those commonplace phrases which may be called the base coin of +conversation, and serve to conceal thoughts instead of revealing them. +Fearing to say too much or too little, we gave no utterance to what was +in our hearts; we remained mute, and our silence increased our +embarrassment. At length, our downcast eyes were raised at the same +moment and met; I saw such depth of sensibility in hers, and she read +in mine so much suppressed rapture, truth, and deep feeling, that we +could no longer take them off each other's face, and tears rising to +our eyes, at the same instant, from both our hearts we each +instinctively put up our hands as if to veil our thoughts. + +I know not how long we remained thus. At last, in a trembling voice, +and with a somewhat constrained and impatient tone, she said: "You have +wept over me; I have called you brother, you have adopted me for your +sister, and yet we dare not look at each other? A tear," she added, "a +disinterested tear from an unknown heart is more than my life is +worth,--more than it has ever yet called forth!" Then with a slightly +reproachful accent she said: "Am I then become once more a stranger to +you, since I no longer require your care? Oh, as to me," she proceeded +in a resolute tone of confidence, "I know nothing of you but your name +and countenance, but I know your heart! A century could not teach me +more!" + +"For my part," said I, faltering, "I would wish to learn nothing of all +that makes you a being like unto ourselves, and bound by the same links +as us to this wretched world. I require but to know this,--that you +have traversed it, and that you have allowed me to contemplate you from +afar, and to remember you always." + +"Oh, do not deceive yourself thus!" she replied; "do not see in me a +deified delusion of your own heart; I should have to suffer too much +when the chimera vanished. View me as I am; as a poor woman, who is +dying in despondency and solitude, and who will take with her from +earth no feeling more divine than that of pity. You will understand +this, when I tell you who I am," added she; "but first answer me on one +point, which has disquieted me since the day I first saw you in the +garden. Why, young and gentle as you seem to be, are you so lonely and +so sad? Why do you fly from the company and conversation of our host, +to wander alone on the lake, and in the most secluded parts of the +mountains, or to retire into your room? Your light burns far into the +night, I am told. Have you some secret in your heart that you confine +to solitude?" She waited my answer with visible anxiety, and kept her +eyes closed, as if to conceal the impression it might make upon her. +"My secret," said I, "is to have none; to feel the weight of a heart +that no enthusiasm upheld until this hour; of a heart which I have +endeavored to engage in unsatisfactory attachments, and which I have +ever been obliged to resume with such bitterness and loathing, as +forever to discourage me, young and feeling as I am, from loving." I +then told her, without concealment, as I would have spoken before +Heaven, of all that could interest her in my life. I related my birth, +my humble and poor condition; I spoke of my father, a soldier of former +days; my mother, a woman of exquisite sensibility, whose youth had been +passed in all the refinement and elegance of letters; my young sisters, +their pious and angelic simplicity; I mentioned my education among the +children of my native mountains; my ready enthusiasm for study; my +involuntary inaction; my travels; my first thrill of the heart beside +the youthful daughter of the Neapolitan fisherman; the unprofitable +acquaintances I formed in Paris,--the levity, misconduct, and +self-abasement which had been the result; my desire for a soldier's +life, which peace had counteracted at the very time I entered the army; +my leaving my regiment; my wanderings without an object; my hopeless +return to the paternal roof; my wasting melancholy; my wish to die; my +weariness of everything; and lastly, I spoke of my physical languor, A +proceeding from heaviness of the soul, and of that premature +decrepitude of the heart, and distaste of life, which was concealed +beneath the appearance and features of a man of four-and-twenty. I +dwelt with inward satisfaction on the disappointments, weariness, and +bitterness of my life, for I no longer felt them! A single look had +regenerated me. I spoke of myself as of one that was dead; a new man +was born within me. When I had ended, I raised my eyes to her, as +towards my judge. She was trembling and pale with emotion. "Heavens," +she exclaimed, "how you alarmed me!" "And why?" said I. "Because," she +rejoined, "if you had not been unhappy and lonely here below, there +would have been one link the less between us. You would have felt no +desire to pity another; and I should have quitted life without having +seen a shadow of myself, save in the heartless mirror where my own cold +image is reflected." + +"The history of your life," she continued, "is the history of mine, +with the change of a few particulars. Only yours commences, and mine--" +I would not let her conclude. "No, no!" said I hoarsely pressing my +lips to her feet, which I embraced convulsively as if to hold her down +to earth; "no, no! you will not, must not die; or, if you do, I feel +two lives will end at once!" + +I was alarmed at my own gesture and at the exclamation which had +involuntarily escaped me; and I durst not raise my face off the ground, +from which she had withdrawn her feet. "Rise," she said, in a grave +voice, but without anger; "do not worship dust--dust as lowly as that +in which you are soiling your fine hair, and which will be scattered as +light and as impalpable by the first autumnal wind. Do not deceive +yourself as to the poor creature you see before you. I am but the +shadow of youth, of beauty, and of love,--of the love you will one day +feel and inspire, when this shadow shall long have passed away. Keep +your heart for those who are to live, and only give to the dying what +the dying ask, a gentle hand to support their last steps, and tears to +mourn their loss." + +The grave and serious tone-with which she said these words struck to my +heart. Yet as I looked on her, and saw the glowing tints of the setting +sun illumining her face, which shone with hourly increasing youth and +serenity of expression, as though a new sun had risen in her heart, I +could not believe in death concealed under these glorious signs of +life. Besides, what cared I? If that heavenly vision was death, well, +it was death I loved. It might be that the vast and perfect love for +which I thirsted was only to be found in death. It might be that God +had only showed me its nearly extinguished light on earth, to urge me +to follow the trace of its ray into the grave, and from thence to +heaven. + +"Do not stay dreaming thus," she said, "but listen to me!" This was not +said with the accent of one who loves, and affects a sportive +seriousness, but with the tone of a still youthful mother, or an elder +sister counselling a brother or a son. "I do not wish you to attach +yourself to a false appearance, a delusion, a dream; I wish you to know +her to whom you so rashly pledge a heart which she could only retain by +deceiving you. Falsehood has always been so odious and so impossible to +me, that I could not desire the supreme felicity of heaven, if I must +enter heaven by deceit. Stolen happiness would not be happiness for me, +it would be remorse." + +As she spoke, there was so much candor on her lips, so much sincerity +in her tone, and limpid purity in her eyes, that I fancied as I looked +at her that under her pure and lovely form I saw immortal Truth, in the +broad light of day, pouring her voice into the ear, her look into the +eye, and her soul into the heart. I stretched myself on the hay at her +feet and, with my elbow leaning on the ground, I rested my head upon my +hand; my eyes were riveted upon her lips, of which I strove not to lose +a single motion, a single modulation, or a single sigh. + + + + +XIX. + + +"I was born," she said, "in the same land as Virginia (for the poet's +fancy has given a real birthplace to his dream), in an island of the +tropics. You may have guessed it from the color of my hair, and from my +complexion, which is paler than that of European women. You must have +perceived, too, the accent which still lingers on my lips. In truth, I +rather wish to preserve that accent as my only memento of my native +land; it recalls to my mind the plaintive and harmonious sounds of the +sea-breeze that are heard at noon beneath the lofty palms. You may also +have noticed that incorrigible indolence of walk and attitude, so +different from the vivacity of French women, which indicates in the +Creole a wild and natural frankness that knows not how to feign or to +dissemble. + +"My family name is D----, and my own is Julie. My mother was lost in a +boat in attempting to leave our native island during an insurrection of +the blacks. I was washed ashore and saved by a black woman, who took +care of me for several years, and then delivered me over to my father. +He brought me to France when I was six years old, with an elder sister, +and a short time after he died in poverty and exile in the house of +some poor relations, who had hospitably received us in Brittany. The +second mother whom I had found in exile provided for my education until +her death, and, at twelve years old, I was adopted by the government as +being the daughter of a man who had done some service to his country. + +"I was brought up in all the luxurious splendor, and amid the choice +friendships of those sumptuous houses, in which the State receives the +daughters of those who die for their country. I grew in years, in +talent, and also, it was said, in beauty. Mine was a grave and saddened +grace, like the flower of some tropical plant blooming awhile beneath a +foreign sky. But my useless beauty and my unavailing talents gladdened +no eye or heart beyond the narrow precincts in which I was confined. My +companions, with whom I had formed those close intimacies which make +the friends of childhood the kindred of the heart, had all left, one by +one, to join their mothers, or to follow their husbands. No mother took +me home; no relation came to visit me; no young man heard of me, or +sought me for his wife. I was saddened by these successive departures +of all my friends, and felt sorrowful to think I was forsaken by the +whole world, and doomed to an eternal bereavement of the heart without +ever having loved. I often wept in secret, and regretted that the poor +black woman had not allowed me to perish in the waves of my native +shore, more merciful to me than the ocean, of the world on which I was +cast. + +"Now and then, an old man of great celebrity would come to visit, in +the name of the Emperor, the national house of education, and inquire +into the progress of the pupils in the arts and sciences, which were +taught by the first masters of the capital; I was always pointed out to +him as the brightest example of the education bestowed on the orphans. +He invariably treated me with peculiar predilection from my childhood. +'How I regret,' he would sometimes say, loud enough for me to hear, +'that I have no son!' + +"One day I was called down to the parlor of the Superior. I found there +my illustrious and venerable friend, who seemed as discomposed as I was +myself. 'My child,' said he, at length, 'years roll on for every +one,--slowly for you, swiftly for me. You are now seventeen; in a few +months you will have attained the age at which you must leave this +house for the world; but there is no world to receive you. You have no +country, no home, no fortune, and no family in France; your unprotected +and dependent situation has made me feel anxious on your account for +many years. The life of a young girl who earns her livelihood by her +labor is full of snares and bitterness, and a home offered by friends +is both precarious and humiliating to the spirit. The extreme beauty +that Nature has bestowed upon you will, by its brightness, dispel the +obscurity of your fate and attract vice, as the brightness of gold +induces theft. Where do you mean to take shelter from the sorrows and +dangers of life?' 'I know not,' I answered; 'and I have thought +sometimes that death alone can save me from my fate!' 'Oh,' he replied, +with a sad and irresolute smile, 'I have thought of another mode of +escape, but I scarcely dare propose it.' 'Speak without fear, sir,' I +answered; 'you have during so many years spoken to me with the look and +accent of a father, that I shall fancy I am obeying mine, in obeying +you.' 'Ah, he would be happy indeed,' he replied, 'who had a daughter +such as you! Forgive me if I have sometimes indulged in such a dream! +Listen to me,' he added in a more tender and serious tone; 'and answer +me in thorough frankness and liberty of heart. + +"'My life is drawing to a close; the grave will soon open to receive +me, and I have no relations to whom to bequeath my only wealth,--the +unaspiring celebrity of my name, and the humble fortune that I have +acquired by my labors. Hitherto I have lived alone, completely absorbed +by the studies that have consumed and dignified my life. I draw near to +the close of my existence, and I am painfully aware that I have not +commenced to live, since I have not thought of loving. It is too late +to retrace my steps, and follow the path of happiness instead of that +of glory, which I have unfortunately chosen; and yet I would not die +without leaving in some memory that prolongation of existence in the +existence of another, which is called affection,--the only immortality +in which I believe. I cannot hope for more than gratitude, and I feel +that it is from you that I should wish to obtain it. But,' added he, +more timidly, 'for that, you must consent to accept, in the eyes of the +world, and for the world only, the name, the hand, and the affection of +an old man who would he a father under the name of husband, and who, as +such, would merely seek the right of receiving you into his house, and +loving you as his child.' + +"He stopped, and refused that day to hear the answer which was already +hovering on my lips. He was the only man among all the visitors of the +house who had evinced any feeling towards me, beyond that vulgar and +almost insolent admiration which shows itself in looks and +exclamations, and is as much an offence as an homage. I knew nothing of +love; I only felt an absence of all family ties which I thought the +tenderness of my adoptive father would replace. I was offered a safe +and honorable refuge against the dangers of the life in which I was to +enter in a few months; and a name which would be as a diadem to the +woman who bore it. His hair had grown white, it was true, but under the +touch of Fame, which bestows eternal youth upon its favorites; his +years would have numbered four times mine, but his regular and majestic +features inspired respect for time, and no disgust for old age, and his +countenance, where genius and goodness were combined, possessed that +beauty of declining age which attracts the eye and affection even of +childhood." + + * * * * * + +"The very day I quitted forever the Orphan Establishment, I entered my +husband's house, not as his wife, but as his daughter. The world gave +him the name of husband, but he never suffered me to call him anything +but father, and he was such to me in care and tenderness. He made me +the adored and radiating centre of a select and distinguished circle, +composed for the greater part of those old men, eminent in letters, +politics, or philosophy, who had been the glory of the preceding +century and had escaped the fury of the Revolution, and the voluntary +servitude of the Empire. He selected for me friends and guides among +those women of the same period who were most remarkable for their +talents or virtues; he promoted and encouraged all those connections +most likely to interest my mind or heart, and to diversify the +monotonous life I led in an old man's house; and far from being severe +or jealous in respect of my acquaintances, he sought by the most +courteous attention to attract all those distinguished men whose +society might have charms for me. He would have liked whomever I had +chosen, and would have been pleased if I had shown preference to any +one among the crowd. I was the worshipped idol of the house, and the +general idolatry of which I was the object went far, perhaps, to guard +me against any individual predilection. I was too happy and too much +flattered to inquire into the state of my own heart, and besides, there +was so much paternal tenderness in my husband's manner towards me, +although he only showed his fondness by sometimes holding me to his +heart, and kissing my forehead, from which he gently parted my hair, +that I should have feared to disturb my happiness by seeking to render +it complete. He would sometimes, however, playfully rally me on my +indifference, and tell me that all that tended to add to my happiness +would increase his own. + +"Once, and once only, I thought I loved and was beloved. A man whose +genius had rendered him illustrious, who was powerful from his high +favor with the Emperor, and who was doubly captivating by his renown +and appearance, although he had passed the meridian of life, sought me +with a signal devotion that deceived me. I was not elated with pride, +but rather with gratitude and surprise. I loved him for a time, or +rather I loved a self-created delusion under his name. I might have +yielded to the charm of such a feeling, had I not discovered that what +I supposed to be a passionate attachment of the heart was on his part +only an infatuation of the senses. When I perceived the real nature of +his love, it became odious to me, and I blushed to think how I had been +deceived; I took back my heart, and wrapped myself once more in the +cold monotony of my happiness. + +"The morning was spent in deep and engaging studies with my husband, +whose willing disciple I was. During the day we took long and solitary +walks in the woods of St. Cloud or of Meudon; and in the evening a few +grave, and for the most part elderly, friends would meet and discourse +on various topics, with all the freedom of intimacy. These cold but +indulgent hearts inclined toward my youth, from that natural bias which +makes the love of the aged descend on the youthful, as the streams of +snow-covered summits flow downwards to the plain. But these hoary heads +seemed to shed their snows on me, and my youth pined and wasted away in +the ungenial atmosphere of age. There lay too great a space of years +between their hearts and mine! Oh, what would I not have given to have +had one friend of my own age, by the contact of whose warm heart I +might have dissolved the thoughts that froze within me, as the dew of +morning congeals upon the plants that grow too near these mountain +glaciers! + +"My husband often looked sadly at me, and seemed alarmed at my pale +face and languid voice. He would have desired, at any cost, to give air +and motion to my heart. He continually tried to induce me to mingle in +diversions which might dispel my melancholy, and would use gentle force +to oblige me to appear at balls and theatres, in the hope that the +natural pride which my youth and beauty might have given me would have +made me share in the pleasure of those around me. The next morning, as +soon as I was awake, he would come into my room and make me relate the +impression I had produced, the admiration I had attracted, and even +speak of the hearts that I had seemed to touch. 'And you,' would he +say, in a tone of gentle interrogation, 'do you share none of these +feelings that you inspire? Is your young heart at twenty as old as +mine? Oh, that I could see you single out from among all these admirers +one superior being, who might one day, by his love, render your +happiness complete, and when I am gone, continue my affection for you +under a younger and more tender form!' 'Your affection suffices me,' I +would answer; 'I feel no pain; I desire nothing; I am happy!' 'Yes,' he +would rejoin, 'you are happy, but you are growing old at twenty! Oh, +remember that it is your task to close my eyes! Live and love! oh, do +but live, that I may not survive you! + +"He called in one doctor after another; they wearied me with questions, +and all agreed in saying that I was threatened with spasm of the heart. +The fainting fits, incident to the disease, had begun to show +themselves. I required, it was said, to break through the usual routine +of my life, to relinquish for some time my sedentary habits, and seek a +complete change of air and scene, in order to give me that stimulus and +energy that my tropical nature required, and which it had lost in the +cold and misty atmosphere of Paris. My husband did not hesitate one +moment between the hope of prolonging my life and the happiness of +keeping me near him. As he could not, by reason of his age and +occupations, accompany me, he confided me to the care of friends who +were travelling in Switzerland and Italy, with two daughters of my own +age. I travelled with that family two years; I have seen mountains and +seas that reminded me of those of my native land; I have breathed the +balmy and stimulating air of the waves and glaciers; but nothing has +restored to me the youth that has withered in my heart, although it +sometimes appears to bloom on my face, so as to deceive even me. The +doctors of Geneva have sent me here, as the last resource of their art; +they have advised me to prolong my stay as long as one ray of sun +lingers in the autumnal sky; then I shall rejoin my husband. Alas, that +I could have shown him his daughter, once more young, and radiant with +health and hope! But I feel that I shall return only to sadden his +latter days, and perhaps to expire in his arms! Well," she rejoined in +a resigned and almost joyful tone, "I shall not now leave earth without +having seen my long-expected brother,--the brother of the soul, that +some secret instinct taught me to expect, and whose image, foreshadowed +in my fancy, had made me indifferent to all real beings. Yes," she +said, covering her eyes with her rosy taper fingers between which I saw +one or two tears trickle; "oh, yes, the dream of all my nights was +embodied in you this morning, when I awoke! ... Oh, if it were not too +late to live on, I would wish to live for centuries, to prolong the +consciousness of that look, which seemed to weep over me, of that heart +that pitied me, of that voice," she added, unveiling her eyes which +were raised to heaven,--"of that voice that called me sister! ... That +tender name will never more be taken from me," she added with a look +and tone of gentle interrogation, "during life, or after death?" + + + + +XX. + + +I sank at her feet overpowered with felicity, and pressed my lips to +them without saying a word. I heard the step of the boatmen, who came +to tell us that the lake was calm, and that there was but just +sufficient daylight left to cross over to the Savoy shore. We rose to +follow them, with unsteady steps, as if intoxicated with joy. Oh, who +can describe what I experienced, as I felt the weight of her pliant but +exhausted frame hanging delightfully on my arm, as though she wished to +feel, and make me feel, that I was henceforward her only support in +weakness, her only trust in sorrow, the only link by which she held to +earth! Methinks I hear even now, though fifteen years have passed since +that hour, the sound of the dry leaves as they rustled beneath our +tread; I see our two long shadows blended into one, which the sun cast +on the left side on the grass of the orchard, and which seemed, like a +living shroud tracking the steps of youth and love, to develop them +before their time. I feel the gentle warmth of her shoulder against my +heart, and the touch of one of the tresses of her hair, which the wind +of the lake waved against my face, and which my lips strove to retain +and to kiss. O Time, what eternities of joy thou buriest in one such +minute, or rather, how powerless art thou against memory; how impotent +to give forgetfulness! + + + + +XXI. + + +The evening was as warm and peaceful as the preceding day had been cold +and stormy. The mountains were bathed in a soft purple light which made +them appear larger and more distant than usual, and they seemed like +huge floating shadows through whose transparency one could perceive the +warm sky of Italy which lay beyond. The sky was mottled with small +crimson clouds, like the ensanguined plumes which fall from the wing of +the wounded swan, struggling in the grasp of an eagle. + +The wind had subsided as evening came on; the silvery rippling waves +threw a slight fringe of spray around the rocks, from which the +dripping branches of the fig-trees depended. The smoke from the +cottages, which lay scattered on the Mont du Chat, rose here and there, +and crept upward along the mountain sides, while the cascades fell into +the ravines below, like a smoke of waters. The waves of the lake were +so transparent, that as we leaned over the side of the boat, we could +see the reflection of the oars and of our own faces, and so warm, that +as we drew our fingers through them, we felt but a voluptuous caress of +the waters. We were separated from the boatmen by a small curtain, as +in the gondolas of Venice. She was lying on one of the benches of the +boat, as on a couch, with her elbow resting upon a cushion; she was +enveloped in shawls to protect her from the damp of evening, and my +cloak was placed in several folds upon her feet; her face, at times in +shade, was at others illumined by the last rosy tints of the sun, which +seemed suspended over the dark firs of the Grande Chartreuse. I was +lying on a heap of nets at the bottom of the boat; my heart was full, +my lips were mute, my eyes were fixed on hers. What need had we to +speak, when the sun, the hour, the mountains, the air and water, the +voluptuous balancing of the boat, the light ripple of the murmuring +waters as we divided them, our looks, our silence, and our hearts, +which beat in unison,--all spoke so eloquently for us? We rather seemed +to fear instinctively that the least sound of voice or words would jar +discordantly on such enchanting silence. We seemed to glide from the +azure of the lake to the azure of the horizon, without seeing the +shores we left, or the shores on which we were about to land. + +I heard one longer and more deep-drawn sigh fall slowly from her lips, +as though her bosom, oppressed by some secret weight, had at one breath +exhaled the aspirations of a long life. I felt alarmed. "Are you in +pain?" I inquired, sadly. "No," she said; "it was not pain, it was +thought." "What were you thinking of so intensely?" I rejoined. "I was +thinking," she answered, "that if God were at this instant to strike +all nature with immobility; if the sun were to remain thus, its disk +half hidden behind those dark firs, which seem the fringed lashes of +the eye of heaven; if light and shade remained thus blended in the +atmosphere, this lake in its same transparency, this air as balmy, +these two shores forever at the same distance from this boat, the same +ray of ethereal light on your brow, the same look of pity reflected +from your eyes in mine, this same fulness of joy in my heart,--I should +comprehend what I have never comprehended since I first began to think, +or to dream." "What?" said I, anxiously. "Eternity in one instant, and +the Infinite in one sensation!" she exclaimed, half leaning over the +edge of the boat, as if to look at the water and to spare me the +embarrassment of an answer. I was awkward enough to reply by some +commonplace phrase of vulgar gallantry, which unfortunately rose to my +lips, instead of the chaste and ineffable adoration which inundated my +heart. It was something to the effect that such happiness would not +suffice me, if it were not the promise of another and a greater +felicity. She understood me but too well, and blushed, on my account +rather than her own. She turned to me with all the emotion of profaned +purity depicted on her face, and in accents as tender, but more solemn +and heartfelt than any that had yet fallen from her lips: "You have +given me pain," she said in a low voice; "come hither, nearer to me, +and listen; I know not if what I feel for you, and what you appear to +feel for me, be what is termed love, in the obscure and confused +language of this world in which the same words serve to express +feelings that bear no resemblance to each other, save in the sound they +yield upon the lips of man. I do not wish to know it; and you--oh, I +beseech you, never seek to know it! But this I know, that it is the +most supreme and entire happiness that the soul of one created being +can draw from the soul, the eyes, and the voice of another being like +to herself, of a being who till now was wanting to her happiness, and +of whom she completes the existence. Besides this boundless happiness, +this mutual response of thought to thought, of heart to heart, of soul +to soul, which blends them in one indivisible existence, and makes them +as inseparable as the ray of yonder setting sun, and the beam of yonder +rising moon, when they meet in this same sky, and ascend in mingled +light in the same ether--is there another joy, gross image of the one I +feel, as far removed from the eternal and immaterial union of our souls +as dust is from these stars, or a minute from eternity? I know not! and +I will not, cannot know!" she added in a tone of disdainful sadness. +"But," she resumed, with a confiding look and attitude, which seemed to +make her wholly mine, "what do words signify? I love you! All nature +would say it for me, if I did not; or rather, let me proclaim it first, +for both: We love each other!" + +"Oh, say, say it once more, say it a thousand times," I exclaimed, +rising like a madman, and walking backwards and forwards in the boat, +which shook beneath my feet. "Let us say it together, say it to God and +man, say it to heaven and earth, say it to the mute, unheeding +elements! Say it eternally, and let all nature repeat it eternally with +us!" ... I fell on my knees before her, with my hands clasped, and my +disordered hair falling over my face. "Be calm," she said, placing her +fingers on my lips, "and let me speak without interruption to the end." +I sat down and remained silent. + +"I have said," she resumed, "or rather I have not said, I have called +out to you from the depths of my soul, that I love you! I love with all +the accumulated power of the expectations, dreams, and impatient +longings of a sterile life of eight-and-twenty years, passed in +watching and not seeing, in seeking and not finding, what some +presentiment taught me to expect, and you have revealed to me. But, +alas, I have known and loved you too late, if you understand love as +most men do, and as you seemed to comprehend it, when you spoke just +now, those light and profane words. Listen to me once more," she added, +"and understand me; I am yours, wholly yours. I belong to you as I do +to myself, and I may say so without wronging the adoptive father, who +never considered me but as a daughter. I am wholly yours, and of myself +I only keep back what you wish me to retain. Do not be surprised at +this language, which is not that of the women of Europe; they love and +are beloved tamely, and would fear to weaken the sentiments they +inspire by avowing a secret that they wish to have wrested from them. I +differ from them by my country, by my feelings, and by my education. I +have lived with a philosopher in the society of free-thinkers, +unshackled by the belief and observances of the religion they have +undermined, and have none of the superstitions, weaknesses and scruples +which make ordinary women bow before another judge than their +conscience. The God of their childhood is not my God. I believe in the +God who has written his symbol in Nature, his law in our hearts, his +morality in our reason. Reason, feeling and conscience are the only +Revelation in which I believe. Neither of these oracles of my life +forbid me to be yours, and the impulse of my whole soul would cast me +into your arms, if you could only be happy at that price. But shall you +or I place our happiness in a fugitive delirium of the senses, which +cannot give half the enjoyment that its voluntary renunciation would +afford our hearts? Shall we not more fully believe in the immateriality +and eternity of our love, if it remains, like a pure thought, in those +regions which are inaccessible to change and death, than if it were +degraded and profaned by unworthy delights? If ever," she added, after +a short silence, and blushing deeply, "if ever, in a moment of frenzy +and incredulity, you exacted from me such a proof of abnegation, the +sacrifice would not only be one of dignity, but of existence; in +robbing my love of its innocency, you would rob me of life; when you +thought to embrace happiness, you would clasp only death in your arms; +I am but a shade, and in one sigh I may exhale my soul!..." + +We remained silent for some time. At last, with a deep-drawn sigh, I +said, "I understand you, and in my heart I had sworn the eternal +innocency of my love, before you had done speaking, or required it of +me." + + + + +XXII. + + +My resigned tone seemed to delight her, and to redouble the confiding +charm of her manner. Night had spread over all, the stars glassed +themselves in the lake, and the silence of Nature lulled the earth to +rest. The winds, the trees and waves were hushed, to let us listen to +all the fugitive impressions of feeling and of thought that whisper in +the hearts of the happy. The boatmen sang snatches of their drawling +and monotonous chants, which seem like the noted modulations of the +waves on the shore. I was reminded of her voice, which seemed ever to +sound in my ear, and I exclaimed, "Oh, that you would mark this +enchanting night for me, by some sweet tones addressed to these winds +and waves, so that they may be forever full of you!" I made a sign to +the boatmen to be silent, and to stifle the sound of their oars, from +which the drops came trickling back into the lake like a musical +accompaniment of silvery notes. She sang a Scotch ballad, half naval +and half pastoral, in which a young girl, whose sailor lover has left +her to seek wealth beyond the seas, relates how her parents, wearied of +waiting his return, had induced her to marry an old man, with whom she +might have been happy, but for the remembrance of her early love. The +ballad begins thus: + + "When the sheep are in the fauld and the ky at hame, + And a' the weary warld to rest are gane, + The waes of my heart fa' in showers frae my e'e, + While my gude-man lies sound by me." + + +After each verse there is a long revery, sung in vague notes, without +words, which lulls the heart with unspeakable melancholy, and brings +tears into the eyes and voice. Each succeeding verse takes up the story +in the dull and distant tone of memory, weeping, regretting, yet +resigned. If the Greek strophes of Sappho are the very fire of love, +these Scotch notes are the very life's blood and tears of a heart +stricken to death by Fate. I know not who wrote the music, but whoever +he may be, thanks be to him for having found in a few notes, and in the +mournful melody of a voice, the expression of infinite human sadness. I +have never since then heard the first measures of that air without +flying from it as one pursued by a spirit; and when I wish to soften my +heart by a tear, I sing within myself the plaintive burden of that +song, and feel ready to weep,--I, who never weep! + + + + +XXIII. + + +We reached the little mole that stretches out into the lake where the +boats are moored; it is the harbor of Aix, and is situated at about +half a league from the town. It was midnight, and there were no longer +any carriages or donkeys on the pier to convey strangers to the town. +The distance was too great for a delicate suffering woman to walk, and +after knocking fruitlessly at the doors of one or two cottages in the +vicinity of the lake, the boatmen proposed carrying the lady to Aix. +They cheerfully slipped their oars from the rings which fastened them +to the boat, and tied them together with the ropes of their nets; then +they placed one of the cushions of the boat on these ropes, and thus +formed a soft and flexible kind of litter for the stranger. Four of +them then took up the oars, and each placing one end on his shoulder, +they set off with the palanquin, to which they imparted no other motion +than that of their steps. I would have wished to have my share in the +pleasure of bearing their precious burden, but was repulsed by them +with jealous eagerness. I walked beside the litter with my right hand +in hers, so that she might cling to me when the movement of her +conveyance was too rough. I thus prevented her slipping off the narrow +cushion on which she was stretched. We walked in this manner slowly and +silently in the moonlight down the long avenue of poplars. Oh, how +short that avenue seemed to me, and how I wished that it could have led +us on thus to the last step of both our lives! She did not speak, and I +said nothing, but I felt the whole weight of her body trustingly +suspended to my arm; I felt both her cold hands clasp mine, and from +time to time an involuntary pressure, or a warmer breath upon them, +made me feel that she had approached her lips to my hand to warm it. +Never was silence so eloquent in its mute revealings. We enjoyed the +happiness of a century in one hour. By the time we arrived at the old +doctor's house, and had deposited the invalid at her chamber door, the +whole world that lay between us had disappeared. My hand was wet with +her tears; I dried them with my lips, and threw myself without +undressing on my bed. + + + + +XXIV. + + +In vain I tossed and turned on my pillow; I could not sleep. The +thousand impressions of the preceding days were traced so vividly on my +mind that I could not believe they were past, and I seemed to hear and +see over again all I had seen or heard the previous day. The fever of +my soul had extended to my body. I rose and laid down again without +finding repose. At last I gave it up. I tried by bodily motion to calm +the agitation of my mind; I opened the window, turned over the leaves +of books which I did not understand as I read them, paced up and down, +and changed the position of my table and my chair a dozen times, +without finding a place where I could bear to spend the night. All this +noise was heard in the adjoining room; and my steps disturbed the poor +invalid, who, doubtless, was as wakeful as I was. I heard a light step +on the creaking floor approach the bolted oak door which separated her +sitting-room from my bedroom; I listened with my ear close to the door, +and heard a suppressed breathing, and the rustle of a silk gown against +the wall. The light of a lamp shone through the chinks of the door, and +streamed from beneath it on my floor. It was she! she was there +listening too, with her ear perhaps close to my brow; she might have +heard my heart beat. "Are you ill?" whispered a voice, which I should +have recognized by a single sigh. "No," I answered, "but I am too +happy! Excess of joy is as exciting as excess of anguish. The fever I +feel is one of life; I do not wish to dispel it, or to fly from it, but +I am sitting up to enjoy it." "Child that you are!" she said, "go and +sleep while I watch; it is now my turn to watch over you." "But you," +whispered I, "why are you not sleeping?" "I never wish to sleep more," +she replied; "I would not lose one minute of the consciousness of my +overwhelming bliss. I have but little time in which to enjoy my +happiness, and do not like to give any portion of it to forgetfulness +in sleep. I came to sit here in the hopes of hearing you, or at any +rate to feel nearer to you." "Oh, why still so far?" I murmured. "Why +so far? Why is this wall between us?" "Is there only this door between +us then," she said, "and not our will and our vow? There! if you are +only restrained by this material obstacle, it is removed!" and I heard +her withdraw the bolt on her side. "Yes," she continued, "if there be +not in you some feeling stronger than love itself to subdue and master +your passion, you can pass. Yes," she added with an accent at once more +solemn and more impassioned, "I will owe nothing but to yourself,--you +may pass; you will meet with love equal to your own, but such love +would be my death...." + +I was overcome by the violence of my feelings, the impetuous impulse of +my heart that impelled me towards that voice, and the moral violence +that repulsed me; and I fell as one mortally wounded on the threshold +of that closed door. As to her, I heard her sit down on a cushion which +she had taken from a sofa, and thrown on the floor. During the greater +part of the night we continued to converse in a low tone, through the +intervals between the floor and the rough wood-work of the door. Who +can describe the outpourings of our hearts, the words unused in the +ordinary language of men that seemed to be wafted like night-dreams +between heaven and earth, and were interrupted by silence in which our +hearts and not our lips communed revealed their unutterable thoughts? +At length the intervals of silence became longer, the voices grew +faster and, overcome with fatigue, I fell asleep, with my hand clasped +on my knees, and my cheek leaning against the wall. + + + + +XXV. + + +The sun was already high in the heavens when I woke, and my room was +flooded with light. The redbreasts were chirping and pecking at the +vines and currant bushes beneath my windows; all nature seemed to be +illumined and adorned and to have awakened before me, to usher in and +welcome this first day of my new life. All the sounds and noises in the +house seemed joyful as I was. I heard the light steps of the maid who +went and came in the passage to carry breakfast to her mistress, the +childish voices of the little girls of the mountains who brought +flowers from the edge of the glaciers, and the tinkling bells and +stamping hoofs of the mules which were waiting in the yard to carry her +to the lake or to the mountain. I changed my soiled and dusty clothes, +I bathed my red and swollen eyes, smoothed my disordered hair, put on +my leather gaiters, like a chamois hunter of the Alps, and taking my +gun in hand, I went down to join the old doctor and his family at the +breakfast-table. + +At breakfast they talked of the storm on the lake, of the danger in +which the stranger had been, her fainting at Haute-Combe, her absence +during two days, and my good fortune in having met with her and brought +her home. I begged the doctor to request for me the favor of inquiring +in person after her health, and accompanying her in her excursions. He +came down again with her; she looked lovelier and more interesting than +ever, and happiness seemed to have given her fresh youth. She enchanted +every one, but she looked only at me. I alone understood her looks and +words with their double meaning. The guides lifted her joyfully on the +seat with the swinging foot-board, which serves as a saddle for the +women of Savoy; and I walked beside the mule with the tinkling bells +which was that day to carry her to the highest chalets of the mountain. + +We passed the whole day there, but we scarcely spoke, so well did we +already understand each other without words. Sometimes we stood +contemplating the cheerful valley of Chambery which appeared to widen +as we mounted higher; or we loitered on the edge of cascades, whose +sun-tinted vapors enveloped us in watery rainbows that seemed to be the +mysterious halo of our love; or we would gather the latest flowers of +earth on the sloping meadows before the chalets, and exchange them +between us, as the letters of the fragrant alphabet of Nature, +intelligible to us alone; or we gathered chestnuts which we brought +home to roast at night by her fire; or we sat under shelter of the +highest chalets which were already abandoned by their owners, and +thought how happy two beings like ourselves might be, confined by fate +to one of these deserted huts, made from rough boards and trunks of +trees,--so near the stars, so near the murmuring winds, the snows and +glaciers, but divided from man by solitude, and sufficing to each other +during a life filled with one thought and but one feeling! + + + + +XXVI. + + +In the evening we came down slowly from the mountain with saddened +looks, as though we had been leaving our domains and happiness behind +us. She retired to her apartment, and I remained below to sup with our +host and his guests. After supper I knocked, as had been agreed upon, +at her door; she received me as she might a friend of childhood after a +long absence. Henceforward I spent all my days and all my evenings in +the same manner; I generally found her reclining on a sofa with a white +cover, which was placed in a corner between the fireplace and the +window; upon a small table on which stood a brass lamp there were some +books, the letters she had received or commenced during the day, a +little common tea-pot,--which she gave me when she went away, and which +has always stood upon my chimney since,--and two cups of blue and pink +china, in which we used to take tea at midnight. The old doctor would +sometimes go up with me, to chat with his fair patient; but after half +an hour's conversation, the good old man would find out that my +presence went further than his advice or his baths to re-establish the +health that was so precious to us all, and would leave us to our books +and conversation. At midnight, I kissed the hand she extended to me +across the table, and went to my own room; but I never retired to rest +until all was silent in hers. + + + + +XXVII. + + +We led this delightful, twofold life during six long or short weeks; +long, when I call to mind the numberless palpitations of joy in our +hearts, but short, when I remember the imperceptible rapidity of the +hours that filled them. By a miracle of Providence, which does not +occur once in ten years, the season seemed to connive at our happiness, +and to conspire with us to prolong it. The whole month of October, and +half of November, seemed like a new but leafless spring; the air was +still soft, the waters blue, the clouds were rosy, and the sun shone +brightly. The days were shorter, it is true, but the long evenings +spent beside her fire drew us closer together; they made us more +exclusively present to each other, and prevented our looks and hearts +from evaporating amid the splendor of external nature. We loved them +better than the long summer days. Our light was within us, and it shone +more brightly when we confined ourselves to the house during the long +darkness of November evenings, with the moaning of the autumnal winds +around us, and the first rattling of the sleet and hail against the +windows. The wintry rain seemed to throw us back upon ourselves, and to +cry aloud: Hasten to say all that is yet untold in your hearts, and all +that must be spoken before man and woman die, for I am the voice of the +evil days that are near at hand to part you! + + + + +XXVIII. + + +We visited together, in succession, every creek and cove, or sandy +beach of the lake, every mountain pass or ridge; every grotto or remote +valley; every cascade hidden among the rocks of Savoy. We saw more +sublime or smiling landscapes, more mysterious solitudes, more +enchanted deserts, more cottages hanging on the mountain brow half-way +between the clouds and the abyss, more foaming waters in the sloping +meadows, more forests of dark pines disclosing their gloomy colonnades +and echoing our steps beneath their domes, than might have hidden a +whole world of lovers. To each of these we gave a sigh, a rapture, or a +blessing; we implored them to preserve the memory of the hours we had +passed together, of the thoughts they had inspired, the air they had +given us, the drop of water we had drunk in the hollow of our hands, +the leaf or flower we had gathered, the print of our footsteps on the +dewy grass, and to give them back to us one day with the particle of +existence that we had left there as we passed; so that nought might be +lost of the bliss that overflowed within us, and that we might receive +back each minute of ecstasy, or emanation of ourselves, in that +faithful treasure house of Eternity, where nothing is lost, not even +the breath we have just exhaled, or the minute we think we have lost. +Never, perhaps, since the creation of these lakes, these torrents, and +these rocks, did such tender and fervent hymns ascend from these +mountains to Heaven! There was in our souls life and love enough to +animate all nature, earth, air, and water, rocks and trees, cedar and +hyssop, and to make them give forth sighs, aspirations, voice, perfume, +and flame enough to fill the whole sanctuary of Nature, even if more +vast and mute than the desert in which we wandered. Had a globe been +created for ourselves alone, we alone would have sufficed to people and +to quicken it, to give it voice and language, praise and love for all +eternity! And who shall say that the human soul is not infinite? Who, +beside the woman he adores, before the face of Nature, and beneath the +eye of God, e'er felt the limits of existence, or of his power of life +and love? O Love! the base may fear thee, and the wicked proscribe +thee! Thou art the high priest of this world, the revealer of +Immortality, the fire of the altar; and without thy ray man would not +even dimly comprehend Eternity! + + + + +XXIX. + + +These six weeks were to me as a baptism of fire which transfigured my +soul, and cleansed it of all the impurities with which it had been +stained. Love was the torch which, while it fired my heart, enlightened +all nature, heaven, and earth, and showed me to myself. I understood +the nothingness of this world when I felt how it vanished before a +single spark of true life. I loathed myself as I looked back into the +past, and compared it with the purity and perfection of the one I +loved. I entered into the heaven of my soul, as my heart and eyes +fathomed the ocean of beauty, tenderness, and purity which expanded +hourly in the eyes, in the voice, and in the discourse, of the heavenly +creature who had manifested herself to me. How often did I kneel before +her, my head bowed to the earth in the attitude and with the feeling of +adoration! How often did I beseech her, as I would a being of another +order, to cleanse me in her tears, absorb me in her flame, or to inhale +me in her breath,--so that nothing of myself should be left in me, save +the purifying water with which she had cleansed me, the flame that had +consumed me, or the new breath that she had infused into my new being; +so that I might become her, or she might become me, and that God +himself in calling us to him should not distinguish or divide what the +miracle of love had transformed and mingled!... Oh, if you have a +brother or a son, who has never understood virtue, pray that he may +love as I did! As long as he loves thus, he will be capable of every +sacrifice or heroic devotion to equal the ideal of his love; and when +he no longer loves, he will still retain in his soul a remembrance of +celestial delights, which will make him turn with disgust from the +waters of vice, and his eye will be often secretly uplifted towards the +pure spring at which he once knelt to drink. I cannot tell the feeling +of salutary shame which oppressed me in the presence of the one I +loved; but her reproaches were so tender, her looks so gentle, though +penetrating, her pardon so divine, that in humbling myself before her I +did not feel myself abased, but rather raised and dignified. I almost +mistook for my own and inward light, what was only the reverberation in +me of her splendor and purity. Involuntarily I compared her to all the +other women I had approached, except Antonina, who appeared to me like +Julie in her artless infancy; and save my mother, whom she resembled in +her virtue and maturity, no woman in my eyes could bear the slightest +comparison. A single look of hers seemed to throw all my past life into +shade. Her discourse revealed to me depths of feelings and refinements +of passion, which transported me into unknown regions, where I seemed +to breathe for the first time the native air of my own thoughts. All +the levity, fickleness, and vanity, the aridity, irony, and bitterness, +of the evil days of my youth, disappeared, and I scarcely recognized +myself. When I left her presence I felt myself good, and thought myself +pure. Once more I felt enthusiasm, prayer, inward piety, and the warm +tears which flow not from the eyes, but well out like a secret spring +from beneath our apparent aridity, and cleanse the heart without +enervating it. I vowed never to descend from the celestial but by no +means giddy heights to which I had been raised by her tender +reproaches, her voice, her single presence. It was as a second +innocence of my soul, imparted by the rays of the eternal innocence of +her love. + +I could not say whether there was most piety, or fascination in the +impression I received, so much did passion and adoration mingle in +equal portions, and in my thoughts change, a thousand times in one +minute, love into worship, or worship into love. Oh, is not that the +height, the very pinnacle of love,--enthusiasm in the possession of +perfect beauty, and rapture in supreme adoration?... All she had said +seemed to me eternal; all she had looked on appeared to me sacred. I +envied the earth on which she had trodden; the sunshine which had +enveloped her during our walks appeared to me happy to have touched +her. I would have wished to abstract and separate forever from the +liquid plains of air, the air that she had sanctified in breathing it; +I would have enclosed the empty place that she had just ceased to fill +in space, so that no inferior creature should occupy it, so long as the +world should last. In a word, I saw and felt, I worshipped God himself, +through the medium of my love. If life were to last in such a condition +of the soul, Nature would stand still, the blood would cease to +circulate, the heart forget to beat, or rather, there would be neither +motion, precipitation, nor lassitude, neither life, nor death, in our +senses; there would be only one endless and living absorption of our +being in another's, such as must be the state of the soul at once +annihilated and living in God. + + + + +XXX. + + +Oh, joy! the vile desires of sensual passion were annulled (as she had +wished) in the full possession of each other's soul, and happiness, as +happiness ever does, made me feel better and more pious than I had ever +been. God and my love were so mingled in my heart, that my adoration of +her became a perpetual adoration of the Supreme Being who had created +her. During the day, when we loitered on the sloping hills or on the +borders of the lake, or sat on the root of some tree in a sunny lawn, +to rest, to gaze, and to admire, our conversation would often, from the +natural overflowing of two full hearts, tend towards that fathomless +abyss of all thought,--the Infinite! and towards Him who alone can fill +infinite space,--God! When I pronounced this last word, with the +heartfelt gratitude which reveals so much in one single accent, I was +surprised to see her averted looks, or remark on her brow and in the +corners of her mouth a trace of sad and painful incredulity, which +seemed to me in contradiction with our enthusiasm. One day, I asked +her, timidly, the reason. "It is that that word gives me pain," she +answered. "And how," said I, "how can the word that comprehends all +life, all love, and all goodness give pain to the most perfect of God's +creations?" "Alas!" she said with the tone of a despairing soul, "that +word represents the idea of a Being, whose existence I have +passionately desired might not be a dream; and yet that Being," she +added in a low and mournful tone, "in my eyes, and in those of the +sages whose lessons I have received, is but the most marvellous and +unreal delusion of our thoughts." "What!" said I, "your teachers do not +believe there is a God? But you, who love, how can you disbelieve? Does +not every throb of our hearts proclaim Him?" "Oh," she answered +hastily, "do not interpret as folly the wisdom of those men who have +uplifted for me the veils of philosophy, and have caused the broad day +of reason and of science to shine before my eyes, instead of the pale +and glimmering lamp with which Superstition lights the voluntary +darkness, that she wilfully casts around her childish divinity. It is +in the God of your mother and my nurse that I no longer believe, and +not the God of Nature and of Science. I believe in a Being who is the +Principle and Cause, spring and end of all other beings, or rather, who +is himself the eternity, form, and law of all those beings, visible or +invisible, intelligent or unintelligent, animate or inanimate, quick or +dead, of which is composed the only real name of this Being of beings, +the Infinite. But the idea of the incommensurable greatness, the +sovereign fatality, the inflexible and absolute necessity of all the +acts of this Being, whom you call God and we term Law, excludes from +our thoughts all precise intelligibility, exact denomination, +reasonable imagining, personal manifestation, revelation, or +incarnation, and the idea of any possible relation between that Being +and ourselves, even of homage and of prayer. Wherefore should the +Consequence pray to the Cause? + +"It is a cruel thought," she added; "for how many blessings, prayers, +and tears I should have poured out at His feet since I have loved you! +But," she resumed, "I surprise and pain you; pray forgive me. Is not +truth the first of virtues, if virtue there be? On this single point we +cannot agree; let us never speak of it. You have been brought up by a +pious mother, in the midst of a Christian family, and have inhaled with +your first breath the holy credulity of your home. You have been led by +the hand into the temples; you have been shown images, mysteries, and +altars; you have been taught prayers and told, God is here, who listens +and will answer you; and you believed, for you were not of an age to +inquire. Since then, you have discarded these baubles of your +childhood, to conceive a less feminine and less puerile God, than this +God of the Christian tabernacles; but the first dazzling glare has not +departed from your eyes; the real light that you have thought to see +has been blended, unknown to yourself, with that false brightness which +fascinated you on your entrance into life; you have retained two +weaknesses of intelligence,--mystery and prayer. There is no mystery" +she said, in a more solemn tone; "there is only reason, which dispels +all mystery! It is man, crafty or credulous man, who invented +mystery,--God made reason! And prayer does not exist," she continued +mournfully, "for an inflexible law will not relent, and a necessary law +cannot be changed. + +"The ancients, with that profound wisdom which was often hidden beneath +their popular ignorance, knew that full well," she added; "for they +prayed to all the gods of their invention, but they never implored the +supreme law,--Destiny." + +She was silent. "It appears to me," I said after a long pause, "that +the teachers who have instilled their wisdom into you have too much +subordinated the feeling to the reasoning Being, in their theory of the +relation of God to man; in a word, they have overlooked the heart in +man,--the heart which is the organ of love, as intelligence is the +organ of thought. The imaginings of man in respect of God may be +puerile and mistaken, but his instincts, which are his unwritten law, +must be sometimes right; if not, Nature would have lied in creating +him. You do not think Nature a lie," I said smiling,--"you, who said +just now that truth was perhaps the only virtue? Now, whatever may have +been the intention of God in giving those two instincts, mystery and +prayer, whether he meant thereby to show that he was the +incomprehensible God, and that his name was Mystery; or that he desired +that all creatures should give him honor and praise, and that prayer +should be the universal incense of nature,--it is most certain that +man, when he thinks on God, feels within him two instincts, mystery and +adoration. Reason's province," I pursued, "is to enlighten and disperse +mystery, more and more every day, but never to dispel it entirely. +Prayer is the natural desire of the heart to pour forth unceasingly its +supplications, efficacious or not, heard or unheard, as a precious +perfume on the feet of God. What matters it if the perfume fall to the +ground, or whether it anoint the feet of God? It is always a tribute of +weakness, humility, and adoration. + +"But who can say that it is ever lost?" I added in the tone of one +whose hopes triumph over his doubts; "who can say that prayer, the +mysterious communication with invisible Omnipotence, is not in reality +the greatest of all the natural or supernatural powers of man? Who can +say that the supreme and immortal Will has not ordained from all +eternity that prayer should be continually inspired and heard, and that +man should thus, by his invocations, participate in the ordering of his +own destiny? Who knows whether God, in his love, and perpetual blessing +on the beings which emanate from him, has not established this bond +with them, as the invisible chain which links the thoughts of all +worlds to his? Who knows but that, in his majestic solitude which he +peoples alone, he has willed that this living murmur, this continual +communing with nature, should ascend and descend continually in all +space from him to all the beings that he vivifies and loves, and from +those beings to him? At all events, prayer is the highest privilege of +man, since it allows him to speak to God. If God were deaf to our +prayers, we should still pray; for if in his majesty he would not hear +us, still prayer would dignify man." + +I saw that my reasonings touched without convincing her, and that the +springs of her soul, which science had dried up, had not yet flowed +towards God. But love was to soften her religion as it had softened her +heart; the delights and anguish of passion were soon to bring forth +adoration and prayer, those two perfumes of the souls that burn and +languish. The one is full of rapture; the other full of tears,--both +are divine! + + + + +XXXI. + + +In the meantime her health improved daily. Happiness, solitude with a +beloved companion (that paradise of tender souls), and the daily +discovery on her part of some new mystery of thought in me which +corresponded to her own nature; the autumnal air in the mountains, +which, like stoves heated during summer, preserve the warmth of the sun +until the winter snows; our distant excursions to the chalets, or on +the waters; the motion of the boat, or the gentle pace of the mules; +the milk brought frothing from the pastures in the wooden cups the +shepherds carve; and above all, the gentle excitement, the peaceful +revery, the continual infatuation of a heart which first love upheld as +with wings and led on from thought to thought, from dream to dream, +through a new-found heaven,--all seemed to contribute visibly to her +recovery. Every day seemed to bring fresh youth; it was as a +convalescence of the soul which showed itself on the features. Her +face, which had been at first slightly marked round the eyes with those +dark and bluish tints which seem like the impress of the fingers of +Death, gradually recovered the roundness of the cheek, the mantling +blood, the soft down, and blooming complexion of a young girl who has +been on the mountains, and whose cheek has been visited by the first +cold bracing winds from the glaciers. Her lips had recovered their +fulness, her eyes their brightness; the lid no longer drooped, and the +eye itself seemed to swim in that continual and luminous mist which +rises like a vapor from the burning heart, and is condensed into tears +on the eye, whose fire absorbs these tears, that always rise, and never +flow. There was more strength in her attitudes, more pliancy in her +movements; her step was light and lively as a child's. Whenever we +entered the yard of the house on our return from our rambles, the old +doctor and his family would express their surprise at the prodigious +change that a day had wrought in her appearance, and wonder at the life +and light that she seemed to shed around her. + +In truth, happiness seemed to encompass her with a radiant atmosphere, +in which she not only walked herself, but enveloped all those who +looked upon her. This radiance of beauty, this atmosphere of love, are +not, as many think, only the fancies of a poet; the poet merely sees +more distinctly what escapes the blind or indifferent eye of other men. +It has often been said of a lovely woman, that she illumines the +darkness of night; it might be said of Julie that she warmed the +surrounding air. I lived and moved, enveloped in this warm emanation of +her reviving beauty; others but felt it as they passed. + + + + +XXXII. + + +When I was obliged to leave her for a short time, and returned to my +room, I felt, even at mid-day, as if I had been immured in a dungeon +without air or light. The brightest sun afforded me no light, unless +its rays were reflected by her eyes. I admired her more, the more I saw +her; and could not believe she was a being of the same order as myself. +The divine nature of her love had become a part of the creed of my +imagination; and in spirit I was ever prostrate before the being who +appeared to me too tender to be a divinity--too divine to be a woman! I +sought a name for her, and found none. I called her Mystery, and under +that vague and indefinite title, offered her worship which partook of +earth by its tenderness, of a dream by its enthusiasm, of reality by +her presence, and of heaven by my adoration. + +She had obliged me to confess that I had sometimes written verses, but +I had never shown her any. She did not much like that artificial and +set form of speech, which, when it does not idealize, generally impairs +the simplicity of feeling and expression. Her nature was too full of +impulse, too feeling, and too serious, to bend itself to all the +precision, form, and delay of written poetry. She was Poetry without a +lyre--true as the heart, simple as the untutored thought, dreamy as +night, brilliant as day, swift as lightning, boundless as space! No +rules of harmony could have bounded the infinite music of her mind; her +very voice was a perpetual melody, that no cadence of verse could have +equalled. Had I lived long with her, I should never have read or +written poetry. She was the living poem of Nature and of myself; my +thoughts were in her heart, my imagery in her eyes, and my harmony in +her voice. + +She had in her room a few volumes of the principal poets of the end of +the eighteenth century, and of the Empire, such as Delille and +Fontanes; but their high-sounding and material poetry was not suited to +us. She had been lulled by the melodious murmur of the waves of the +tropic, and her soul contained treasures of love, imagination, and +melancholy, which all the voices of the air and waters could not have +expressed. She would sometimes attempt with me to read these books, on +the strength of their reputation, but would throw them down again +impatiently; they gave no sound beneath her touch, like those broken +chords which remain voiceless when we strike the keys. The music of her +heart was in mine, but I could never give it forth to the world; and +the verses she was one day to inspire were destined to sound only on +her grave. She never knew before she died whom she had loved. In her +eyes I was her brother, and it would have mattered little to her that I +had been a poet for the rest of the world. Her love saw nothing in me +but myself. + +Only once I involuntarily betrayed before her the poor gift of poetry +that I possessed, and which she neither suspected nor desired in me. My +friend Louis--had come to stay a few days with us. The evening had been +spent till midnight in reading, in confidential talk, in musing, in +sadness, and in smiles. We wondered to see three young lives, which a +short time before were unknown to each other, now united and identified +beneath the same roof, at the same fireside, with the same murmur of +autumnal winds around, in a cottage of the mountains of Savoy; we +strove to foresee by what sport of Providence, or Chance, the stormy +winds of life might scatter or reunite us once more. These distant +vistas of the horizon of our future lives had saddened us, and we +remained silent round the little tea-table on which we were leaning. At +last Louis, who was a poet, felt a mournful inspiration rising in his +heart, and wished to write it down. She gave him paper and a pencil, +and he leaned on the marble chimney-piece and wrote a few stanzas, +plaintive and tearful as the funeral strophes of Gilbert. He resembled +Gilbert, and he might have written those lines of his, which will live +as long as the lamentations of Job, in the language of men: + + Au banquet de la vie, infortuné convive, + J'apparus un jour et je meurs; + Je meurs, et sur ma tombe, où lentement j'arrive, + Nul ne viendra verser des pleurs! + +Louis's verses had affected me; I took the pencil from him, and, +withdrawing for an instant to the end of the room, I wrote in my turn +the following verses, which will die with me unknown to all; they were +the first verses that sprung from my heart, and not from my +imagination. I read them out without daring to raise my eyes to her, to +whom they were addressed. They ran thus-- + + * * * * * + +but, no! I efface them! My love was all my genius, and they have +departed together. + +As I finished reading the verses, I saw on Julie's face, on which the +light of the lamp fell, such a tender expression of surprise and such +superhuman beauty, that I stood uncertain, as my verses had expressed +it, between the woman and the angel,--between love and adoration. This +latter feeling predominated at last in my heart, and in that of my +friend. We fell on our knees before the sofa, and kissed the end of the +black shawl which enveloped her feet. The verses seemed to her merely +an instantaneous and solitary expression of my feelings towards her; +she praised them, but never mentioned them again. She much preferred +our familiar discourse, or even our pensive silence in each other's +company, to these exercises of the mind which profane our feelings +rather than reveal them, Louis left us after a few days. + + + + +XXXIII. + + +In consequence of these first verses of mine, which were but one feeble +strophe of the perpetual hymn of my heart, she requested me to write an +ode for her, which she would address as a tribute of admiration, and as +a specimen of my talents, to one of the men of her Paris acquaintance, +for whom she felt the greatest respect and attachment, M. de Bonald. I +knew nothing of him but his name, and the well-deserved renown that +attached to it as that of a Christian, a philosopher, and a legislator. +I fancied that I was to address a modern Moses, who derived from the +rays of another Mount Sinai the divine light which he shed upon human +laws. I wrote the ode in one night, and read it the next morning, +beneath a spreading chestnut-tree, to her who had inspired it. She made +me read it three times over, and in the evening she copied it with her +light and steady hand. Her writing flew upon the paper like the shadow +of the wings of thought, with the swiftness, elegance, and freedom of a +bird on the wing. The next day she sent it to Paris. M. de Bonald +replied by many obliging auguries respecting my talents. This was the +beginning of my acquaintance with that most excellent man, whose +character I have always admired and loved since, without sharing his +theocratical doctrines. My approval of his creed, of which I knew +nothing, was at that time a concession to my love; at a later period it +would have been an homage rendered to his virtues. M. de Bonald was, +like M. de Maistre, a prophet of the past, one of those men whose ideas +were of bygone days, and to whom we bow with veneration, as we see them +seated on the threshold of futurity; they will not pass onward, but +tarry to listen to the sublime lament of all that dies in the human +mind. + + + + +XXXIV. + + +Autumn was already gone; but the sun shone out now and then between the +clouds and lighted and warmed the mild winter which had succeeded. We +tried to deceive ourselves, and to say that it was still autumn, so +much did we dread to recognize winter, that was to separate us. The +snow sometimes fell in the morning in light flakes on the roses and +everlastings in the garden, like the white down of the swans which we +often saw traversing the air. At noon the snow melted, and then there +were delightful hours on the lake. The last rays of the sun seemed to +be warmer when they played on the waters. The fig-trees which hung from +the rocks exposed to the south, in the sheltered coves, had kept their +wide-spreading leaves; and the reflection of the sun on the rocks +imparted to them the splendid coloring and the warmth of summer +evenings. But these hours glided as swiftly by as the stroke of the +oars which served to take us round the foam-covered rocks that form the +southern border of the lake. The glancing rays of the sun on the +fire-trees; the green moss; the winter birds, more fully feathered and +more familiar than those of summer; the mountain streams, whose white +and frothing waters dashed down the sides of the sloping meadows, and +meeting in some ravine fell with sonorous and splashing murmurs from +the black and shining rocks into the lake; the cadenced sound of the +oar, which seemed to accompany us with its mysterious and plaintive +regrets, like some friendly voice hidden beneath the waters; the +perfect repose we felt in this warm and luminous atmosphere, so near +each other, and separated from the world by an abyss of waters,--gave +us at times so great an enjoyment in the sense of existence, such +fulness of inward joy, such an overflowing of peace and love, that we +might have defied Heaven itself to add to our felicity. But with this +happiness was mixed the consciousness that it was soon to end; each +stroke of the oar resounded in our hearts as one step of the day that +brought us nearer to separation. Who knows whether these trembling +leaves may not to-morrow have fallen in the waters? If this moss on +which we still can sit may not to-morrow be covered with a thick mantle +of snow; if this blue sky, these illumined rocks and sparkling waves, +may not, during the mists of this next night, be enveloped and +confounded in one dim and wintry ocean? + +A long sigh would escape our lips at thoughts like these; but we never +communicated them to each other, for fear of arousing misfortune by +naming it. Oh, who, in the course of his life, has not felt some joy +without security and without a morrow; when life seems concentrated in +one short hour which we would wish to make eternal, and which we feel +slipping away minute by minute, while we listen to the pendulum which +counts the seconds, or look at the hand that seems to gallop o'er the +dial, or watch a carriage-wheel, of which each turn abridges distance, +or hearken to the splashing of a prow that distances the waves, and +brings us nearer to the shore where we must descend from the heaven of +our dreams on the bleak and barren strand of harsh reality. + + + + +XXXV. + + +[Illustration: THE LOVERS' COMPACT.] + + +One sunny evening when our boat lay in a calm and sheltered creek, +formed by the Mont du Chat, and we were delightfully lulled by the +distant sound of a cascade which perpetually murmurs in the grottos +through which it filtrates before losing itself in the abyss of water, +our boatmen landed to draw some nets they had set the day before. We +remained alone in the boat which was moored to the branch of a fig-tree +by a slender rope; the motion of the boat caused the branch to bend and +break without our being aware of it, and we drifted out to the middle +of the bay, nearly three hundred yards from the perpendicular rocks +with which it is surrounded. The waters of the lake in this part were +of that bronzed color and had that molten appearance and look of heavy +immobility which the shade of overhanging cliffs always gives; and the +perpendicular rocks which surrounded it indicated the unfathomable +depth of its waters. I might have taken up the oars and returned to +shore, but we felt a thrill of pleasure at our loneliness and the +absence of any form of living nature. We would have wished to wander +thus on a boundless firmament, instead of on a sea with shores. We no +longer heard the voices of the boatmen who had gone along the Savoy +shore, and were now hidden from our view by some projecting rocks; we +only heard the distant trickling of the cascade, the harmonious sighs +of the pines when some playful breeze swept for an instant through the +still and heavy air, and the low ripple of the water against the sides +of the boat which gently undulated at our slightest movement. + +Our boat lay half in shade and half in sunshine,--the head in sunshine, +and the stern in shade. I was sitting at Julie's feet in the bottom of +the boat, as on the first day when I brought her back from Haute-Combe. +We took delight in calling to remembrance every circumstance of that +first day, that mysterious era from which the world commenced for +us,--for that day was the date of our meeting and of our love! She was +half reclining with one arm hanging over the side of the boat, the +other leaned upon my shoulder, and her hand played with a lock of my +long hair; my head was thrown back, so that I could only see the +heavens above and her face, which stood out on the blue background of +the sky. She bent over me, as if to contemplate her sun on my brow, her +light in my eyes; an expression of deep, calm, and ineffable happiness +was diffused over her features, and gave to her beauty a radiance and +splendor which was in harmony with the surrounding glory of the sky. +Suddenly I saw her turn pale and withdraw her arms from the side of the +boat and from my shoulder; she started up as if awaked from sleep, +covered for one instant her face with her two hands, and remained in +deep and silent thought; then withdrawing her hands, which were wet +with tears, she said, in a tone of calm and serene determination, "Oh, +let us die! ..." + +After these words she remained silent for an instant, then resumed: +"Yes, let us die, for earth has nothing more to give, and Heaven +nothing more to promise!" She gazed at the sky and mountain, the lake +and its translucid waves around us. "Seest thou," she said (it was the +first and the last time that she ever used that form of speech which is +tender or solemn, according as we address God or man),--"seest thou +that all is ready around us for the blessed close of our two lives? +Seest thou the sun of the brightest of our days which sets, not to rise +for us perhaps to-morrow? Seest thou the mountains glass themselves for +the last time in the lake? They stretch out their long shadows towards +us, as if to say, Wrap yourselves in this shroud which I extend towards +you! See! the deep and clear, the silent waves have prepared for us a +sandy couch from which no man shall wake us and tell us to be gone! No +human eye can see us. None will know from what mysterious cause the +empty bark has been washed ashore upon some rock. No ripple on these +waters will betray to the curious or the indifferent the spot where our +two bodies slid beneath the wave, in one embrace; where our two souls +rose mingled in the surrounding ether; no sound of earth will follow +us, but the slight ripple of the closing wave!... Oh, let us die in +this delight of soul, and feel of death only its entrancing joy. One +day we shall wish to die, and we shall die less happy. I am a few years +older than you, and this difference which is unfelt now will increase +with time. The little beauty which has attracted you will early fade, +and you will only recall with wonder the memory of your departed +enthusiasm. Besides, I am to you but as a spirit; ... you will seek +another happiness; ... I should die of jealousy if you found it with +another, ... and I should die of grief, if I saw you unhappy through +me!... Oh, let us die, let us die! Let us efface the dark or doubtful +future with one last sigh, which will only leave on our lips the +unallayed taste of complete felicity." + +At the same moment my heart spoke to me as forcibly as she did, and +said what her voice said to my ear, what her looks said to my eyes, +what solemn, mute, funereal Nature in the splendor of her last hour, +said to all my senses. The two voices that I heard, the inward and the +outer voice, said the same words, as if one had been the echo or +translation of the other. I forgot the universe, and I answered, "Let +us die!" + + * * * * * + +I wound the fisherman's ropes which I found in the boat several times +round her body and mine, which were bound as in the same winding sheet. +I took her up in my arms, which I had left disengaged in order to +precipitate her with me into the lake. + +At the very instant that I was taking the spring which would forever +have buried us in the waters, I saw her turn pale, her head drooped, +its lifeless weight sank upon my shoulder, and I felt her knees give +way beneath her body. Excessive emotion and the joy of dying together +had forestalled death. She had fainted in my arms. The idea of taking +advantage of her insensible state to hurry her, unknown to herself, and +perhaps against her will, into my grave, struck me with horror. I fell +back into the boat with my burden; I loosed the ropes that bound us, +and laid her on the seat; I dipped my hands into the lake and sprinkled +the cold drops of water on her lips and forehead. I know not how long +she remained thus without color, voice, or motion. When she first +opened her eyes and regained consciousness, night was coming on, and +the slow drift of the boat had carried us into the middle of the lake. + +"God wills it not," I said. "We live; what we thought the privilege of +our love was a double crime. Is there no one to whom we belong on +earth? No one in heaven?" I added looking upwards reverentially, as +though I had seen in the firmament the sovereign Judge and Lord of our +destinies. "Speak no more of it," she said in a low and hurried tone; +"never speak of it again! You have chosen that I should live; I will +live; my crime was not in dying, but in taking you with me!" There was +something of bitterness and tender reproach in her tone and in her +look. "It may be," said I, replying to her thoughts,--"it may be that +heaven itself has no such hours as those we have just passed; but life +has,--that is enough to make me love it." She soon recovered her bloom +and her serenity. I seized the oars, and slowly rowed back to the +little sandy beach, where we heard the voices of the boatmen, who had +lighted a fire beneath a projecting rock. We recrossed the lake, and +returned home silently and thoughtfully. + + + + +XXXVI. + + +In the evening, when I went into her room, I found her seated in tears +before her little table, where several open letters were lying +scattered among the tea things. "We had better have died at once, for +here is the lingering death of separation, which begins for me," she +said, pointing to some letters which bore the postmark of Paris and +Geneva. + +Her husband wrote that he began to be very anxious at her long absence +at a season of the year when the weather might become inclement from +day to day; that he felt himself gradually declining and that he wished +to embrace and bless her before he died. His mournful entreaties were +intermingled with many expressions of paternal fondness, and some +sportive allusions to the fair young brother, who made her forget her +other friends. The other letter was from the Genevese doctor, who was +to have come to take her back to Paris. He wrote to say that he was +obliged unexpectedly to leave home to attend a German prince who +required his care, and that he sent in his stead a respectable, +trustworthy man, who would accompany her to Paris and act as her +courier on the road. This man had arrived, and her departure was fixed +for the day after the morrow. + +Although this news had been long foreseen, it affected us as though it +had been quite unexpected. We passed a long evening and nearly half the +night in silence, leaning opposite to one another on the little table, +and neither daring to look at each other, or to speak, for fear of +bursting into tears. We strove to interrupt the speechless agony of our +hearts by a few unconnected words, but these were said in a deep and +hollow voice, which resounded in the room like tear-drops on a coffin. +I had instantly determined to go also. + + + + +XXXVII. + + +The next day was the eve of our separation. The morning, as if to mock +us, rose more bright and warm than in the fairest days of October. + +While the trunks were being packed, and the carriage got ready, we +started with the mules and guides. We visited both hill and valley, to +say farewell, and to make, as it were, a pilgrimage of love to all the +spots where we had first seen each other, then met and walked; where we +had sat, and talked, and loved, during the long and heavenly +intercourse between ourselves and lonely Nature. We began by the lovely +hill of Tresserves which rises like a verdant cliff between the valley +of Aix and the lake; its sides, that rise almost perpendicularly from +the water's edge, are covered with chestnut-trees, rivalling those of +Sicily, through their branches, which overhang the water, one sees +snatches of the blue lake or of the sky, according as one looks high or +low. It was on the velvet of the moss-covered roots of these noble +trees, which have seen successive generations of young men and women +pass like ants beneath their shade, that we in our contemplative hours +had dreamed our fairest dreams. From thence we descended by a steep +declivity to a small solitary chateau called Bon Port. This little +castle is so embosomed in the chestnut-trees of Tresserves on the land +side, and so well hidden on the water side in the deep windings of a +sheltered bay, that it is difficult to see it either from the mountain +or from the little sea of Bourget. A terrace with a few fig-trees +divides the château from the sandy beach, where the gentle waves +continually come rippling in, to lick the shore and murmuringly expire. +Oh, how we envied the fortunate possessors of this retreat unknown to +men, hidden in the trees and waters, and only visited by the birds of +the lake, the sunshine and the soft south wind. We blessed it a +thousand times in its repose, and prayed that it might shelter hearts +like ours. + + + + +XXXVIII. + + +From Bon Port we proceeded towards the high mountains which overlook +the valley between Chambéry and Geneva, going round by the northern +side of the hill of Tresserves. We saw once more the meadows, the +pastures, the cottages hidden beneath the walnut-trees, and the grassy +slopes, where the young heifers play, their little bell tinkles +continually, to give notice of their wandering march through the grass +to the shepherd, who tends them at a distance. We ascended to the +highest chalets; the winter wind had already scorched the tips of the +grass. We remembered the delightful hours we had spent there, the words +we had spoken, the fond delusion we had entertained of an entire +separation from the world, the sighs we had confided to the mountain +winds and rays to waft them to heaven. We recalled all our hours of +peace and happiness so swiftly flown, all our words, dreams, gestures, +looks and wishes, as one strips a dwelling that one leaves of all that +is most precious. We mentally buried all these treasures of memory and +hope within the walls of these wooden chalets which would remain closed +until the spring, to find them entire on our return, if ever we +returned. + + + + +XXXIX. + + +We came down by the wooded slopes to the foaming bed of a cascade. +There we saw a small funereal monument erected to the memory of a young +and lovely woman, Madame de Broc; she fell some years ago into this +whirl-pool, whose foaming waters gave up a long while after a part of +her white dress, and thus caused her body to be found in the deep +grotto in which it had been ingulfed. Lovers often come and visit this +watery tomb; their hearts feel heavy, and they draw closer to each +other as they think how their fragile felicity may be dashed to atoms +by one false step on the slippery rock. + +From this cascade, which bears the name of Madame de Broc, we walked in +silence towards the Château de Saint Innocent, from whence one commands +an extensive view of the whole lake. We got down from our mules beneath +the shade of some lofty oaks, which were interspersed here and there +with a few patches of heath. It was a lonely place at that time, but +since then a rich planter, on his return to his native land, has built +himself a country house, and planted a garden in these, his paternal +acres. Our mules were turned loose, and left to graze in the wood under +the care of the children who acted as our guides. We walked on alone +from tree to tree, from one glade to another on the narrow neck of +land, until we reached the extreme point, where we saw the shining +lake, and heard its splashing waters. This wood of Saint Innocent is a +promontory that stretches out into the lake at the wildest and most +lonely part of its shores; it ends in some rocks of gray granite, which +are sometimes washed by the foam of the wind-tossed waves, but are dry +and shining when the waters subside into repose. We sat down on two +stones close to each other. Before us, the dark pile of the Abbey of +Haute-Combe rose on the opposite shore of the lake. Our eyes were fixed +on a little white speck that seemed to shine at the foot of the gloomy +terraces of the monastery. It was the fisherman's house, where we had +been thrown together by the waves, and united forever by that chance +meeting; it was the room where we had spent that heavenly and yet +funereal night which had decided the fate of both our lives. "It was +there!" she said, stretching out her arm, and pointing to the bright +speck, which was scarcely visible in the distance and darkness of the +opposite shore. "Will there come a day and a place," she added +mournfully, "in which the memory of all we felt there during those +deathless hours will appear to you, in the remoteness of the past, but +as that little speck on the dark background of yonder shore?" + +I could not reply to these words; her tone, her doubts, the prospect of +death, inconstancy, and frailty, and the possibility of forgetfulness, +had struck me to the heart, and filled me with sad forebodings. I burst +into tears. I hid my face in my hands, and turned towards the evening +breeze, that it might dry my tears in my eyes; but she had seen them. + +"Raphael," she resumed with greater tenderness, "no, you will never +forget me. I know it, I feel it; but love is short, and life is slow. +You will live many years beyond me. You will drain all that is sweet, +or powerful, or bitter in the cup that Nature offers to the lips of +man. You will be a man! I know it by your sensibility, which is at once +manly and feminine. You will be a man to the full extent of all the +wretchedness and dignity of that name by which God has called one of +his strangest creatures! In one of your aspirations there is breath for +a thousand lives! You will live with all the energy and in the full +meaning of the word--life! I ..." she stopped for an instant, and +raised her eyes and arms to Heaven as if in thank fulness: "I--I have +lived!--I have lived enough," she resumed in a contented tone, "since I +have inhaled, to bear it forever within me, the spirit of the soul that +I waited for on earth, and which would vivify me even in death, from +whence you once recalled me.... I shall die young, and without regret +now, for I have drained at a single draught the life that you will not +exhaust before your dark hair has become as white as the spray that +dashes over your feet. + +"This sky, this lake, these shores, these mountains, have been the +scene of my only real life here below. Swear to me to blend so +completely in your remembrance this sky, this lake, these shores, these +mountains, with my memory, that their image and mine may henceforward +be inseparable for you; that this landscape in your eyes, and I in your +heart, may make but one ... so that," she added, "when you return after +long days, to see once more this lonely spot, to wander beneath these +trees, on the margin of these waves, to listen to the breeze and +murmuring winds, you may see me once more, as living, as present, and +as loving as I am here!..." + +She could say no more and burst into tears. Oh, how we wept! how long +we wept! The sound of our stifled sobs mingled with the sobbing of the +water on the sand. Our tears fell trickling in the water at our feet. +After a lapse of fifteen years, I cannot write it without tears, even +now. + +O man! fear not for thy affections, and feel no dread lest time should +efface them. There is neither to-day nor yesterday in the powerful +echoes of memory; there is only always. He who no longer feels has +never felt. There are two memories,--the memory of the senses, which +wears out with the senses, and in which perishable things decay; and +the memory of the soul, for which time does not exist, and which lives +over at the same instant every moment of its past and present +existence; it is a faculty of the soul, which, like the soul, enjoys +ubiquity, universality, and immortality of spirit. Fear not, ye who +love! Time has power over hours, none over the soul. + + + + +XL. + + +I strove to speak, but could not. My sobs spoke, and my tears promised. +We got up to join the muleteers, and returned at sunset by the long +avenue of leafless poplars, where we had passed before, when she held +my hand so long in the palanquin. As we went through the straggling +faubourg of cottages, at the entrance of the town, and crossed the +Place to enter the steep street of Aix, sad faces were seen greeting us +at the windows and at the doors; as kind souls watch the departure of +two belated swallows, who are the last to leave the walls which have +sheltered them. Poor women rose from the stone bench where they were +spinning before their houses; children left the goats and donkeys which +they were driving home; all came to address a word, a look, or even a +silent bow of recognition to the young lady, and the one they supposed +to be her brother. She was so beautiful, so gracious to all, so loved, +it seemed as though the last ray of the year was retiring from the +valley. + +When we had reached the top of the town, we got down from our mules and +dismissed the children. As we did not wish to lose an hour of this last +day that still shone on the rose-tinted snows of the Alps, we climbed +slowly, and alone, up a narrow path which leads to the garden terrace +of a house called the Maison Chevalier. From this terrace, which seems +like a platform erected in the centre of a panorama, the eye embraces +the town, the lake, the passes of the Rhône, and all the peaks of the +Alpine landscape. We sat down on the fallen trunk of a tree, and leaned +on the parapet wall of the terrace; we remained mute and motionless, +looking by turns at all the different spots, that for the last six +weeks had witnessed our looks and steps, our twofold dreams, and our +sighs. When all these had one by one faded away in the dim shade of +twilight; when there was only one corner of the horizon, to westward, +where a faint light remained,--we started up with one accord, and fled +precipitately, casting vain and sorrowing looks behind as if some +invisible hand had driven us out of this Eden, and pitilessly effaced +on our steps all the scene of our happiness and love. + + + + +XLI. + + +We returned home and spent a sad evening, although I was to accompany +Julie as far as Lyons on the box of her carriage. When the hand of her +little portable clock marked midnight, I retired, to let her take some +rest before morning. She accompanied me to the door; I opened it, and +said as I kissed her hand in the passage, "Good-bye, till the morrow!" +She did not answer, but I heard her murmur, with a sob, behind the +closing door, "There is no morrow for us!" + +There were a few days more, but they were short and bitter, as the last +dregs of a drained cup. We started for Chambery very early in the +morning, not to show our pale cheeks and swollen eyelids in broad +daylight, and passed the day there in a small inn of the Italian +faubourg. The wooden galleries of the inn overlooked a garden with a +stream running through it, and for a few hours we cheated ourselves +into the belief that we were once more in our home at Aix, with its +galleries, its silence, and its solitude. + + + + +XLII. + + +We wished before we left Chambéry and the valley we so much loved to +visit together the humble dwelling of Jean Jacques Rousseau and Madame +de Warens, at Les Charmettes. A landscape is but a man or a woman. What +is Vaucluse without Petrarch? Sorrento without Tasso? What is Sicily +without Theocritus, or the Paraclet without Heloise? What is Annecy +without Madame de Warens? What is Chambéry without Jean Jacques +Rousseau? A sky without rays, a voice without echo, a landscape without +life! Man does not only animate his fellow-men, he animates all nature. +He carries his own immortality with him into heaven, but bequeaths +another to the spots that he has consecrated by his presence; it is +only there we can trace his course, and really converse with his +memory. We took with us the volume of the "Confessions" in which the +poet of Les Charmettes describes this rustic retreat. Rousseau was +wrecked there by the first storms of his fate, and was rescued by a +woman, young, lovely, and adventurous, wrecked and lost like himself. +This woman seems to have been a compound of virtues and weaknesses, +sensibility and license, piety and independence of thought, formed +expressly by Nature to cherish and develop the strange youth, whose +mind comprehended that of a sage, a lover, a philosopher, a legislator, +and a madman. Another woman might perhaps have produced another life. +In a man we can always trace the woman whom he first loved. Happy would +he have been who had met Madame de Warens before her profanation! She +was an idol to be adored, but the idol had been polluted. She herself +debased the worship that a young and loving heart tendered her. The +amours of this woman and Rousseau appear like a leaf torn from the +loves of Daphnis and Chloe, and found soiled and defiled on the bed of +a courtesan. It' matters not; it was the first love, or the first +delirium, if you will, of the young man. The birthplace of that love, +the arbor where Rousseau made his first avowal, the room where he +blushed at his first emotions, the yard where he gloried in the most +humble offices to serve his beloved protectress, the spreading +chestnut-trees beneath which they sat together to speak of God, and +intermingled their sportive theology with bursts of merriment and +childish caresses, the landscape, mysterious and wild as they, which +seems so well adapted to them,--have all, for the lover, the poet, or +the philosopher, a deep and hidden attraction. They yield to it without +knowing why. For poets this was the first page of that life which was a +poem; for philosophers it was the cradle of a revolution; for lovers it +is the birthplace of first love. + + + + +XLIII. + + +We followed the stony path at the bottom of the ravine which leads to +Les Charmettes, still talking of this love. We were alone. The +goat-herds even had forsaken the dried-up pastures and the leafless +hedges. The sun shone now and then between the passing clouds, and its +concentrated rays were warmer within the sheltered sides of the ravine. +The redbreasts hopped about the bushes almost within our reach. Every +now and then we would sit on the southern bank of the road to read a +page or two of the "Confessions," and identify ourselves with the +place. + +We fancied we saw the young vagrant in his tattered clothes, knocking +at the gate and delivering, with a blush, his letter of recommendation +to the fair recluse, in the lonely path that leads from the house to +the church. They were so present to our fancy, that it seemed as though +they were expecting us, and that we should see them at the window or in +the garden walks of Les Charmettes. We would walk on, then stop again; +the spot seemed to attract and to repel us by turns, as a place where +love had been revealed, but where love had been profaned also. It +presented no such perils to us. We were destined to carry away our love +from thence as pure and as divine as we had brought it there within us. + +"Oh," I inwardly exclaimed, "were I a Rousseau, what might not this +other Madame de Warens have made me; she who is as superior to her of +Les Charmettes as I am inferior to Rousseau, not in feeling, but in +genius." + +Absorbed in these thoughts, we walked up a shelving greensward upon +which a few walnut-trees were scattered here and there. These trees had +seen the lovers beneath their shade. To the right, where the pass +narrows so as to appear to form a barrier to the traveller, stands the +house of Madame de Warens on a high terrace of rough and ill-cemented +stones. It is a little square building of gray stone, with two windows +and a door opening on the terrace, and the same on the garden side; +there are three low rooms on the upper story, and a large room on the +ground floor with no other furniture than a portrait of Madame de +Warens in her youth. Her lovely face beams forth from the dust-covered +and dingy canvas with beauty, sportiveness, and pensive grace. Poor +charming woman! Had she not met that wandering boy on the highway; had +she not opened to him her house and heart, his sensitive and suffering +genius might have been extinguished in the mire. The meeting seemed +like the effect of chance, but it was predestination meeting the great +man under the form of his first love. That woman saved him; she +cultivated him; she excited him in solitude, in liberty, and in love, +as the houris of the East through pleasure raise up martyrs in their +young votaries. She gave him his dreamy imagination, his almost +feminine soul, his tender accents, his passion for nature. Her pensive +fancy imparted to him enthusiasm,--the enthusiasm of women, of young +men, of lovers, of all the poor, the oppressed, the unhappy of his day. +She gave him the world, and he proved ungrateful.... She gave him fame, +and he bequeathed opprobrium.... But posterity should be grateful to +them, and forgive a weakness that gave us the prophet of liberty. When +Rousseau wrote those odious pages against his benefactress, he was no +longer Rousseau, he was a poor madman. Who knows if his morbid and +disordered imagination, which made him at that time see an insult in +every benefit and hatred in all friendship, did not show him likewise +the courtesan in the loving woman, and wantonness instead of love? I +have always suspected it. I defy any rational man to recompose, with a +semblance of probability, the character Rousseau gives to the woman he +loved, from the contradictory elements which he describes in her. Those +elements exclude each other: if she had soul enough to adore Rousseau, +she did not at the same time love Claude Anet; if she grieved for +Claude Anet and Rousseau, she did not love the young hair-dresser. If +she was pious she did not glory in her weakness, but must have deplored +it; if engaging, handsome, and frail, as Rousseau depicts her, she +could not be reduced to look for admirers among the vagrants of the +streets, or on the highways. If she affected devotion with such a life, +she was a calculating hypocrite; and if a hypocrite, she was not the +frank, open, and unreserved creature of the "Confessions." The likeness +cannot be true; it is a fancy head and a fancy heart. There is some +hidden mystery here, which must be attributed rather to the misguided +hand of the artist than to the nature of the woman whom he wished to +represent. We must neither accuse the painter whose discernment was at +that time impaired, nor believe in the portrait which has disfigured +the sketch he at first made of an adorable creature. + +For my part I never could believe that Madame de Warens would have +recognized herself in the questionable pages of Rousseau's old age. In +my fancy, I have always restored her to what she was, or what she +appeared at Annecy to the young poet,--lovely, feeling, tender, frail +though really pious, prodigal of kindness, thirsting after love, and +desirous of blending the tender names of mother and of mistress in her +affection for the youth that Providence had confided to her, and whom +her love had adopted. This is the true portrait, such as the old men of +Chambéry and Annecy have told me that their fathers had transmitted to +them. Rousseau's mind itself bears witness against his own accusations. +Whence would he have derived his sublime and tender piety, his feminine +melancholy, his exquisite and delicate touches of feeling, if a woman +had not bestowed them with her heart. No, the woman who called into +existence such a man was not a cynical courtesan, but rather a fallen +Héloise--an Héloise fallen by love and not by vice or depravity. I +appeal from Rousseau the morose old man, calumniating human nature, to +Rousseau, the young and ardent lover; and when I go, as I often do, to +muse at Les Charmettes, I seek a Madame de Warens far more touching and +attractive in my imagination than in his. + + + + +XLIV. + + +A poor woman made us some fire in Madame de Warens' room; accustomed to +the visit of strangers, and to their long conversations on the scene of +the early days of a celebrated man, she attended to her usual work in +the kitchen and in the yard, and left us at liberty to warm ourselves, +or to saunter backwards and forwards from the house to the garden. This +little sunny garden, surrounded by a wall which separated it from the +vineyards, and overrun with nettles, mallows, and weeds of all kinds, +resembled one of those village churchyards where the peasants assemble +to bask in the rays of the sun, leaning against the church-walls, with +their feet on the graves of the dead. The walks, so neatly gravelled +once, were now covered with damp earth and yellow moss, and showed the +neglect that had followed on absence. How we would have wished to +discover the print of the footsteps of Madame de Warens, when she used +to go, basket in hand, from tree to tree, from vine to vine, gathering +the pears of the orchard or the grapes of the vineyard, and indulging +in merry frolic with, the pupil or the confessor. But there is no trace +of them in their house, save their memory. That is enough; their name, +their remembrance, their image, the sun they saw, the air they +breathed, which seems still beaming with their youth, warm with their +breath, and filled with their voices, give one back the light, the +dreams, the sounds, which shed enchantment round their spring of life. + +I saw by Julie's pensive countenance, and her silent thoughtfulness, +that the sight of this sanctuary of love and genius impressed her as +deeply as myself. At times she shunned me, and remained wrapped in her +own thoughts as if she feared to communicate them; she would go into +the house to warm herself when I was in the garden, and return to sit +on the stone bench in the arbor when I joined her at the fireside. At +length I went to her in the arbor; the last yellow leaves hung loosely +from the vine, and allowed the sun to penetrate and envelop her with +its rays. + +"What is it you wish to think of without me?" I said in a tone of +tender reproach. "Do I ever think alone?" "Alas!" she answered, "you +will not believe me, but I was thinking, that I could wish to be Madame +de Warens for you, during one single season, even though I were to be +forsaken for the remainder of my days, and though shame were to attach +to my memory like hers; even though you proved yourself as ungrateful +and calumniating as Rousseau!.... How happy she was," she continued, +gazing up at the sky as though she sought the image of the strange +creature she envied,--"how happy she was! she sacrificed herself for +him she loved." + +"What ingratitude and what profanation of yourself and of our +happiness!" I answered, walking slowly back with her towards the house, +upon the dry leaves, that rustled beneath our feet. + +"Have I then ever, by a single word, or look, or by a single sigh, +shown that aught was wanting to my bitter but complete felicity? Cannot +you, in your angelic fancy, imagine for another Rousseau (if Nature +could have produced two) another Madame de Warens?--a Madame de Warens, +young and pure, angel, lover, sister, all at once, bestowing her whole +soul, her immaculate and immortal soul, instead of her perishable +charms; bestowing it on a brother who was lost and is found, who was +young, misled, and wandering too in this world, like the son of the +watch-maker; throwing open to that brother, instead of her house and +garden, the bright treasures of her affection, purifying him in her +rays, cleansing him from his first pollutions by her tears, deterring +him forever from any grosser pleasure than that of inward possession +and contemplation, teaching him to value his very privations far above +the sensual enjoyment that man shares with brutes, pointing out to him +his course through life, inciting him to glory and to virtue, and +rewarding his sacrifices by this one thought,--that fame, virtue, and +sacrifices were all taken into account in the heart of his beloved, all +accumulate in her love, are multiplied by her gratitude, and are added +to that treasure of tenderness which is ever increasing here below, to +be expended only in heaven?" + + + + +XLV. + + +Nevertheless, as I spoke thus, I fell quite overcome, with my face +hidden in my hands, on a chair that was near the wall far from hers. I +remained there without speaking a word. "Let us begone," she said; "I +am cold; this place is not good for us!" We gave some money to the good +woman, and we returned slowly to Chambéry. + +The next day Julie was to start for Lyons. In the evening Louis came to +see us at the inn, and I induced him to go with me to spend a few weeks +at my father's house, which was situated on the road from Paris to +Lyons. We then went out together to inquire at the coachmaker's in +Chambéry for a light calèche, in which we could follow Julie's carriage +as far as the town where we were to separate. We soon found what we +sought. + +Before daylight we were off, travelling in silence through the winding +defiles of Savoy, which at Pont-de-Beauvoisin open into the monotonous +and stony plains of Dauphiny. At every stage we got down and went to +the first carriage to inquire about the poor invalid. Alas! every turn +of the carriage-wheel which took her further from that spring of life +which she had found in Savoy seemed to rob her of her bloom, and to +bring back the look of languor and the slow fever which had struck me +as being the beauty of death the first time I saw her. As the time for +our leaving her drew near, she was visibly oppressed with grief. +Between La-Tour-du-Pin and Lyons, we got into her carriage for a few +leagues to try and cheer her. I begged her to sing the ballad of Auld +Robin Gray for my friend; she did so, to please me, but at the second +verse, which relates the parting of the two lovers the analogy between +our situation and the hopeless sadness of the ballad, as she sung it, +struck her so forcibly that she burst into tears. She took up a black +shawl that she wore that day, and threw it as a veil over her face, and +I saw her sobbing a long while beneath the shawl. At the last stage she +fell into a fainting fit, which lasted till we reached the hotel where +we were to get down at Lyons. With the assistance of her maid, we +carried her upstairs, and laid her on her bed. In the evening she +rallied, and the next day we pursued our journey towards Macon. + + + + +XLVI. + + +It was there we were to separate definitively. We gave our directions +to her courier, and hurried over the adieux for fear of increasing her +illness by prolonging such painful emotions, as one who with an +unflinching hand hastily bares a wound to spare the sufferer. My friend +left for my father's country house, whither I was to follow the next +day. + +Louis was no sooner gone than I felt quite unable to keep my word. I +could not rest under the idea of leaving Julie in tears, to prosecute +her long winter journey with only the care of servants, and the thought +that she might fall ill in some lonely inn, and die while calling for +me in vain, was unbearable. I had no money left; a good old man who had +once lent me twenty-five louis had died during my absence. I took my +watch, a gold chain that one of my mother's friends had given me three +years before, some trinkets, my epaulets, my sword, and the gold lace +off my uniform, wrapped them all in my cloak, and went to my mother's +jeweller, who gave me thirty-five louis for the whole. From thence, I +hurried to the inn where Julie slept, and called her courier; I told +him I should follow the carriage at a distance to the gates of Paris, +but that I did not wish his mistress to know it, for fear she should +object to it, out of consideration to me. I inquired the names of the +towns and the hotels where he intended to stay on the road, in order +that I might stop in the same towns, but stay at other hotels. I +rewarded him by anticipation and liberally for his secrecy, then ran to +the post house, ordered horses, and set off half an hour after the +departure of the carriage I wished to follow. + + + + +XLVII. + + +[Illustration: _RAPHAEL SEES JULIE IN PARIS_.] + + +No unforeseen obstacles counteracted the mysterious watchfulness which +I exercised, though still invisible. The courier gave notice secretly +to the postilions of the approach of another calèche, and, as he +ordered horses for me, I always found the relays ready. I accelerated +or slackened my speed according as I wished to keep at a distance, or +to come nearer to the first carriage, and always questioned the +postilions respecting the health of the young lady they had just +driven. From the top of the hills I could see, far down in the plain, +the carriage speeding through fog or sunshine, and bearing away my +happiness. My thoughts outstripped the horses; in fancy I entered the +carriage and saw Julie asleep, dreaming perhaps of me, or awake, and +weeping over our bright days forever flown. When I closed my eyes, to +see her better, I fancied I heard her breathe. I can scarcely now +comprehend that I had strength of mind and self-denial enough to resist +during a journey of one hundred and twenty leagues the impulse that +unceasingly impelled me towards that carriage which I followed without +attempting to overtake; my whole soul went with it, and my body alone, +insensible to the snow and sleet, followed, and was jolted, tossed and +swung about, without the least consciousness of its own sufferings. But +the fear of causing Julie an unexpected shock which might prove fatal +or of renewing a heartrending scene of separation, repelled me, and the +idea of watching over her safety like a loving Providence, and with +angel-like disinterestedness, nailed me to my resolution. + +The first time, she got down at the great Hotel of Autun, and I, in a +little inn of the faubourg close by. Before daylight the two carriages, +within sight of each other, were once more running along the white and +winding road, through the gray plains and druidical oak forests of +Upper Burgundy. We stopped in the little town of Avalon,--she in the +centre, and I at the extremity of the town. The next day we were +rolling on towards Sens. The snow which the north wind had accumulated +on the barren heights of Lucy-le-Bois and of Vermanton, fell in +half-melted flakes on the road, and smothered the sound of the wheels. +One could scarcely distinguish the misty horizon at the distance of a +few feet, through the whirling cloud of snow that the wind drifted from +the adjoining fields. It was no longer possible, by sight or sound, to +judge of the distance between the two carriages. Suddenly I perceived +in front, almost touching my horses' heads, Julie's carriage, which was +drawn up in the middle of the road. The courier had alighted, and was +standing on the steps calling out for help and making signs of +distress. I leaped out and flew to the carriage, by a first impulse +stronger than prudence; I jumped inside, and saw the maid striving to +recall her mistress from a fainting fit brought on by the weather and +fatigue, and perhaps by the storms of the heart. The courier ran to +fetch warm water from the distant cottages, and the maid rubbed her +mistress's cold feet in her hands, or pressed them to her bosom to warm +them. Oh, what I felt, as I held that adored form in my arms during one +long hour of insensibility, desiring that she should hear, and dreading +lest she should recognize, my voice, which recalled her to life, none +can conceive or describe, unless they, too, have felt life and death +thus struggling in their hearts. + +At last our tender care, the application of the hot-water bottles which +had been brought by the courier, and the warmth of my hands on hers, +recalled heat to the extremities. The color which began to appear in +her cheeks, and a long and feeble sigh which escaped her lips, +indicated her return to life. I jumped out on the road, so that she +might not see me when she opened her eyes, and remained there, behind +the carriage, my face muffled up in my cloak. I desired the servants to +make no mention of my sudden appearance. They soon made a sign to me +that she was recovering consciousness, and I heard her voice stammer +forth these words, as if in a dream: "Oh, if Raphael were here! I +thought it was Raphael!" I hastily returned to my own carriage; the +horses started afresh, and a wide distance soon lay between us. In the +evening I went to inquire after her at the inn where she had alighted +at Sens. I was told that she was quite well, and was sleeping soundly. + +I followed in her track as far as Fossard, a stage near the little town +of Montereau; there the road from Sens to Paris branches off in two +directions,--one branch passing through Fontainebleau, the other +through Melun. This latter being shorter by several leagues, I followed +it in order to precede Julie by a few hours in Paris, and see her get +down at her own door. I paid the postilions double, and arrived long +before dark at the hotel where I was accustomed to put up in Paris. At +nightfall I stationed myself on the quay opposite to Julie's house, +that she had so often described to me; I knew it as if I had lived +there all my life. I observed through the windows that hurrying to and +fro of shadows within, which one sees in a house where some new guest +is expected. I could see on the ceiling of her room the reflection of +the fire which had been lighted on the hearth. An old man's face showed +itself several times at the window, and appeared to watch and listen to +the noises of the quay. It was her husband,--her second father. The +concierge held the door open, and stepped out from time to time, to +watch and listen likewise. Now and then a pale and rapid gleam of light +from the street lamp, which swung backwards and forwards with the gusty +wind of December, shot athwart the pavement before the house, and then +left it in darkness. At last a travelling carriage swept around the +corner of one of the streets which lead to the quay, and stopped before +the house. I darted forward and half-concealed myself in the shade of a +column at the next door to that at which the carriage stopped. I saw +the servants rush to the door. I saw Julie alight, and saw the old man +embrace her, as a father embraces his child after a long absence; he +then walked heavily upstairs, leaning on the arm of the concierge. The +carriage was unpacked, the postilion drove it round to another street +to put it up, the door was closed. I returned to my post near the +parapet on the river side. + + + + +XLVIII. + + +I stood a long while contemplating from thence the lighted windows of +Julie's house, and sought to discover what was going on inside. I saw +the usual stir of an arrival, busy people carrying trunks, unpacking +parcels, and setting all things in order; when this bustle had a little +subsided, when the lights no longer ran backwards and forwards from +room to room, and that the old man's room alone was lighted by the pale +rays of a night lamp, I could distinguish, through the closed windows +of the _entresol_ beneath, the motionless shadow of Julie's tall and +drooping form on the white curtains. She remained some time in the same +attitude; then I saw her open the window spite of the cold, look +towards the Seine in my direction, as if her eye had rested upon me +from some preternatural revelation of love, then turn towards the +north, and gaze at a star that we used to contemplate together, and +which we had both agreed to look at in absence, as a meeting-place for +our souls in the inaccessible solitude of the firmament. I felt that +look fall on my heart like living coals of fire. I knew that our hearts +were united in one thought and my resolution vanished. I darted forward +to rush across the quay, to go beneath her windows, and say one word +that might make her recognize her brother at her feet. At the same +instant she closed her window. The rolling of carriages covered the +sound of my voice; the light was extinguished at the _entresol_, and I +remained motionless on the quay. The clock of a neighboring edifice +struck slowly twelve; I approached the door, and kissed it convulsively +without daring to knock. I knelt on the threshold, and prayed to the +stones to preserve to me the supreme treasure which I had brought back +to confide to these walls, and then slowly withdrew. + + + + +XLIX. + + +I left Paris the next day without having seen a single one of the +friends I had there. I inwardly rejoiced at not having bestowed one +look, one word, or a single step on any one but her. The rest of the +world no longer existed for me. Before I left, however, I put into the +post a note dated Paris, and addressed to Julie, which she would +receive on waking. The note only contained these words: "I have +followed you, I have watched over you though invisible. I would not +leave you without knowing that you were under the care of those who +love you. Last night, at midnight, when you opened the window, and +looked at the star, and sighed, I was there! You might have heard my +voice. When you read these lines I shall be far away!" + + + + +L. + + +I travelled day and night in such complete dizziness of thought that I +felt neither cold, hunger nor distance, and arrived at M---- as if +awaking from a dream, and scarcely remembered that I had been to Paris. +I found my friend Louis awaiting me at my father's house in the +country. His presence was soothing to me; I could at least speak to him +of her whom he admired as much as I did. We slept in the same room, and +part of our nights were spent in talking of the heavenly vision, by +which he had been as dazzled as myself. He considered her as one of +those delusions of fancy, one of those women above mortal height, like +Tasso's Eleanora, Dante's Beatrice, Petrarch's Laura, or Vittoria +Colonna, the lover, the poet, and the heroine at once,--forms that flit +across the earth, scarcely touching it, and without tarrying, only to +fascinate the eyes of some men, the privileged few of love, to lead on +their souls to immortal aspirations, and to be the _sursum corda_ of +superior imaginations. As to Louis, he dared not raise his love as high +as his enthusiasm. His sensitive and tender heart, which had been early +wounded, was at that time filled with the image of a poor and pious +orphan, one of his own family. His happiness would have been to have +married her, and to live in obscurity and peace in a cottage among the +hills of Chambéry. Want of fortune restricted the two poor lovers to a +hopeless and tender friendship, from the fear of lowering the name of +their family in poverty, or of bequeathing indigence to children. The +young girl died some years after, of solitude and hopelessness. I have +never seen a sweeter face droop and die for the want of a few of +fortune's rays. Her countenance, where might be traced the remains of +blooming youth, equally ready to revive or to fade forever, bore in the +highest degree the sublime and touching impress of that virtue of the +unhappy, called resignation. She became blind in consequence of the +secret tears she shed during her long years of expectation and +uncertainty. I met her once, on my return from one of my journeys to +Italy. She was led by the hand through the streets of Chambéry, by one +of her little sisters. When she heard my voice, she turned pale, and +felt for some support with her poor hesitating hand: "Pardon me," she +said; "but when I used formerly to hear that voice, I always heard with +it another." Poor girl! she now listens to her lover's voice in heaven. + + + + +LI. + + +How long were the two months that I had to pass away from Julie in my +father's house, before the time came that I could join her in Paris! +During the last three or four months, I had exhausted the allowance I +received from my father, the secret resources of my mother's +indulgence, and the purse of my friends, to pay the debts that +dissipation, play, and my travels had made me contract. I had no means +of obtaining the small sum I required to go to Paris, and to live there +even in seclusion and penury, and was obliged to wait till the month of +January, when my quarter's allowance from my father became due. At that +time of the year, too, I was in the habit of receiving some little +presents from a rich but severe old uncle, and from some good and +prudent old aunts. By means of all these resources, I hoped to collect +a sum of six or eight hundred francs, which would be sufficient to keep +me in Paris for a few months. Privations would be no trial to my +vanity, for my life consisted only in my love. All the riches of this +world could, in my eyes, only have served to purchase for me the +portion of the day that I was to pass with her. + +The weary days of expectation were filled with thoughts of her. We +devoted to each other every hour of our time. In the morning, on +waking, she retired to her room to write to me, and at the same instant +I, too, was writing to her; our pages and our thoughts crossed on the +road by every post, questioning, answering, and mingling without a +day's interruption. There were thus in reality for us only a few hours' +absence; in the evening and at night. But even these I consecrated to +her: I was surrounded with her letters,--they lay open upon the table, +my bed was strewn with them; I learned them by heart. I often repeated +to myself the most affecting and impassioned passages, adding in fancy +her voice, her gesture, her tone, her look; I would answer her, and +thus succeed in producing such a complete delusion of her real +presence, that I felt impatient and annoyed when I was summoned to +meals, or interrupted by visitors; at these times it seemed as though +she were torn from me, or driven away from my room. In my long rambles +on the mountains, or in those misty plains without an horizon which +border the Saône, I always took her last letter with me, and would sit +on the rocks, or on the edge of the water, amid the ice and snow, to +read it over and over again. Each time I fancied I discovered some word +or expression that had escaped my notice before. I remember that I +always instinctively directed my course towards the north, as if each +step I took in the direction of Paris brought me nearer to her, and +diminished the cruel distance that separated us. Sometimes I went very +far on the Paris road under this impression, and when it was time to +return, I had always a severe struggle with myself. I felt sorrowful, +and would often look back towards that point of the horizon where she +dwelt, and walk slowly and heavily home. Oh, how I envied the +snow-laden wings of the crows that flew northward through the mist! +What a pang I felt as I saw the carriages rolling towards Paris! How +many of my useless days of youth would I not have given to be in the +place of one of those listless old men who glanced unconcernedly +through their carriage windows at the solitary youth by the wayside, +whose steps travelled in the contrary direction to his heart. Oh, how +interminably long did the short days of December and January appear! +There was one bright hour for me, among all my hours,--it was when I +heard from my room the step, the voice, and the rattle of the postman, +who was distributing the letters in the neighborhood. As soon as I +heard him I opened my window; I saw him coming up the street, with his +hands full of letters, which he distributed to all the maid-servants, +and waited at each door till he received the postage. How I cursed the +slowness of the good women, who seemed never to have done reckoning the +change into his hand! Before the postman rang at my fathers door I had +already flown downstairs, crossed the vestibule, and stood panting at +the door. While the old man fumbled among his letters, I strove to +discover the envelope of fine post paper, and the pretty English +handwriting that distinguished my treasure among all the coarse papers +and clumsy superscriptions of commercial or vulgar letters. I seized it +with a trembling hand; my eyes swam, my heart beat, and my legs refused +their office. I hid the letter in my bosom for fear of meeting some one +on the stairs; and lest so frequent a correspondence should appear +suspicious to my mother, I would run into my room and bolt my door, so +as to devour the pages at leisure, without fear of interruption. How +many tears and kisses I impressed on the paper! Alas, when many years +afterwards I opened the volume of these letters, how many words effaced +by my lips, and that my tears or my transports had washed or torn out, +were wanting to the sense of many sentences! + + + + + +LII. + + +After breakfast I used to retire to my upper room, to read my letter +over again and to answer it. These were the most feverish and +delightful hours in the day. I would take four sheets of the largest +and thinnest paper that Julie had sent me on purpose from Paris, and +whose every page, commencing very high up, ending very low down, +crossed, and written on the margin, contained thousands of words. These +sheets I covered every morning, and found them too scanty and too soon +filled for the passionate and tumultuous overflow of my thoughts. In +these letters there was no beginning, no middle, no end, and no +grammar; nothing, in short, of what is generally understood by the word +style. It was my soul laid bare before another soul expressing, or +rather stammering forth, as well as it could, the conflicting emotions +that filled it, with the help of the inadequate language of men. But +such language was not made to express unutterable things; its imperfect +signs and empty terms, its hollow speeches and its icy words, were +melted, like refractory ore, by the concentrated fire of our souls, and +cast into an indescribable language, vague, ethereal, flaming and +caressing, like the licking tongues of fire that had no meaning for +others, but which we alone understood, as it was part of ourselves. +These effusions of my heart never ended and never slackened. If the +firmament had been a single page, and God had bid me fill it with my +love, it could not have contained one-half of what spoke within me! I +never stopped till the four sheets were filled; yet I always seemed to +have said nothing, and in truth I had said nothing,--for who could ever +tell what is infinite? + + + + +LIII. + + +These letters, which were without any pitiful pretensions to talent on +my part, and were a delight and not a labor, might have been of +marvellous service to me at a later period, if fate had destined me to +address my fellow men, or to depict the shades, the transports, or the +pains of passion, in works of imagination. Unknown to myself, I +struggled desperately as Jacob wrestled with the angel, against the +poorness, the rigidity, and the resistance of the language I was forced +to use, as I knew not the language of the skies. The efforts that I +made to conquer, bend, smooth, extend, spiritualize, color, inflame, or +moderate expressions; the wish to render by words the nicest shades of +feeling the most ethereal aspirations of thought, the most irresistible +impulses, and the most chaste reserve of passion; to express looks, +attitudes, sighs, silence, and even the annihilation of the heart +adoring the invisible object of its love,--all these efforts, I repeat, +which seemed to bend my pen beneath my fingers like a rebellious +instrument, made me sometimes find the very word, expression, or cry +that I required to give a voice to the unutterable. I had used no +language, but I had cried forth the cry of my soul; and I was heard. +When I rose from my chair, after this desperate but delightful struggle +against words, pen, and paper, I remembered that, spite of the winter +cold in my room, the perspiration stood upon my forehead, and I used to +open the window to cool my fevered brow. + + + + +LIV. + + +My letters were not only a cry of love, they were more frequently full +of invocations, contemplation, dreams of the future, prospects of +heaven, consolations, and prayers. + +My love, which by its nature was debarred from all those enjoyments +which relax the heart by satisfying the senses, had opened afresh +within me all the springs of piety that had been dried up or polluted +by vile pleasures. I felt in my heart all the purity and elevation of +divine love. I strove to bear away with me to heaven, on the wings of +my excited and almost mystical imagination, that other suffering and +discouraged soul. I spoke of God, who alone was perfect enough to have +created her superhuman perfection of beauty, genius, and tenderness; +great enough to contain our boundless aspirations; infinite and +inexhaustible enough to absorb and whelm in himself the love he had +lighted in us, so that his flame, in consuming us one by the other, +might make us both exhale ourselves in him. I comforted Julie under the +sacrifice that necessity obliged us to make of complete happiness here +below; I pointed out to her the merit of this self-denial of an instant +in the eyes of the Eternal Remunerator of our actions. I blessed the +mournful and sublime purity of such sacrifices, since they would one +day obtain for us a more immaterial and angelic union in the eternal +atmosphere of pure spirits. I went so far as to speak of myself as +happy in my abnegation, and to sing the hymns of the martyrdom of love +to which we were by love, by greater love, condemned. I entreated Julie +not to think of my grief and not to give way to sorrow herself. I +showed a courage and a contempt for terrestrial happiness that I +possessed, alas! very often only in words. I offered up to her, as a +holocaust, all that was human in me. I elevated myself to the +immateriality of angels, so that she might not suspect a suffering or a +desire in my adoration. I besought her to seek in a tender and +sustaining religion, in the shelter of the church, in the mysterious +faith of Christ, the God of tears, in kneeling and in invocation,--the +hopes, the consolations, and the delights that I had tasted in my +childhood. She had renewed in me all my early feelings of piety. I +composed prayers for her,--calm, yet ardent prayers, that ascend like +flames to Heaven, but like flames that no wind can cause to vacillate. +I begged her to pronounce these prayers at certain hours of the day and +night, when I would repeat them also, so that our two minds, united by +the same words, might be elevated at the same hour in one +invocation.... All these were wet with my tears, that left their traces +on my words, and were doubtless more powerful and more eloquent than +they. I used to go and throw into the post by stealth these letters, +the very marrow of my bones; and felt relieved on my return, as if I +had thrown off a part of the weight of my own heart. + + + + +LV. + + +Spite of my continual efforts and of the perpetual application of my +young and ardent imagination to communicate to my letters the fire that +consumed me, to create a language for my sighs, to pour my burning soul +upon the paper and make it overleap the distance that divided us,--in +this combat against the impotence of words, I was always surpassed by +Julie. Her letters had more expression in one phrase than mine in their +eight pages,--her heart breathed in the words; one saw her looks in the +lines; the expressions seemed still warm from her lips. In her, nothing +evaporated during that slow and dull transition of the feeling to the +word which lets the lava of the heart cool and pale beneath the pen of +man. Woman has no style, that is why all she says is so well said. +Style is a garment, but the unveiled soul stands forth upon the lips or +beneath the hand of woman. Like the Venus of speech, it rises from the +depths of feeling in its naked beauty, wakes of itself to life, wonders +at its own existence, and is adored ere it knows that it has spoken. + + + + +LVI. + + +What letters and what ardor! What tones and accents! What fire and +purity combined, like light and transparency in a diamond, like passion +and bashfulness on the brow of the young girl who loves! What powerful +simplicity! What inexhaustible effusions! What sudden revivals in the +midst of languor! What sounds and songs! Then there would be sadness, +recurring like the unexpected notes at the end of an air; caressing +words, which seemed to fan the brow like the breath of a fond mother +bending over her smiling child; a voluptuous lulling of half-whispered +words, and hushed and dreamy sentences, which wrapped one in rays and +murmurs, stillness and perfume, and led one gently by the soft and +soothing syllables to the repose of love, the still sleep of the soul, +unto the kiss upon the page which said farewell! The farewell and the +kiss both silently received, as the lips silently impressed them. I +have seen those letters all again; I have read over, page by page, this +correspondence, bound up and classed, after death, by the pious hand of +friendship; one letter answering the other from the first note down to +the last word written by the death-struck hand, to which love still +imparted strength. I have read them o'er, and burned them with tears, +in secret, as if I committed a crime, and snatching twenty times the +half-consumed page from the flames to read it once again. Why did I +thus destroy? Because their very ashes would have been too burning for +this world, and I have scattered them to the winds of heaven. + + + + +LVII. + + +At length the day came when I could reckon the hours that still +separated me from Julie. All the resources that I could command did not +amount to a sufficient sum to keep me three or four months in Paris. My +mother, who noticed my distress without guessing its cause, drew from +the casket which her fondness had already nearly emptied a large +diamond, mounted as a ring. Alas, it was the last remaining jewel of +her youth! She slipped it secretly into my hand, with tears. "I suffer +as much as you can, Raphael," she said with a mournful look, "to see +your unprofitable youth wasted in the idleness of a small town, or in +the reveries of a country life. I had always hoped that the gifts of +God, that from your infancy I rejoiced to see in you, would attract the +notice of the world, and open to you a career of fortune and honor. The +poverty against which we have to struggle does not allow us to bring +you forward. Hitherto such has been the will of God, and we must submit +with resignation to his ways, which are always the best. Yet it is with +grief I see you sinking into that moral languor which always follows +fruitless endeavors. Let us try Fate once more. Go, since the earth +here seems to burn beneath your feet,--go and live for awhile in Paris. +Call, with reserve and dignity, on those old friends of your family who +are now in power. Show the talents with which Nature and study have +endowed you. It is impossible that those at the head of the Government +should not strive to attract young men able, as you would be, to serve, +support, and adorn the reign of the princes whom God has restored to +us. Your poor father has much to do to bring up his six children, and +not to fall below his rank in the distresses of our rustic life. Your +other relations are good and kind, but they will not understand that +breathing-space and action are necessary to the devouring activity of +the mind at twenty. Here is my last jewel; I had promised my mother +never to part with it save from dire necessity. Take it, and sell it; +it will serve to maintain you in Paris a few weeks longer. It is the +last token of my love, which I stake for you in the lottery of +Providence. It must bring you good luck; for my solicitude, my prayers, +my tenderness for you go with it." I took the ring, and kissed my +mother's hand; a tear fell upon the diamond. Alas, it served not to +allow me to seek or to await the favor of great men or princes who +turned away from my obscurity, but to live three months of that divine +life of the heart worth centuries of greatness. This sacred diamond was +to me as Cleopatra's pearl dissolved in my cup of life, from which I +drank happiness and love for a short time. + + + + +LVIII. + + +I completely altered my habits from that day, from respect for my poor +mother's repeated sacrifices, and the concentration of all my thoughts +in this one desire,--to see once more my love, and to prolong, as much +as possible, by the strictest economy, the allotted time I was to spend +with Julie. I became as calculating and as sparing of the little gold I +took with me as an old miser. It seemed as though the most trifling sum +I spent was an hour of my happiness, or a drop of my felicity that I +wasted. I resolved to live like Jean Jacques Rousseau, on little or +nothing, and to retrench from my vanity, my dress, or my food, all that +I wished to bestow on the rapture of my soul. I was not, however, +without an undefined hope of making some use of my talents in the cause +of my love. These were as yet made known to a few friends only by some +verses; but in the last three months I had written during my sleepless +nights a little volume of poetry, amatory, melancholy, or pious, +according as my imagination spoke to me in tender or in serious notes. +The whole had been copied out with care in my best handwriting, and +shown to my father, who was an excellent critic, though somewhat +severe; a few friends, too, had favorably judged some fragments. I had +bound up my poetical treasure in green, a color of good omen for my +hopes of fame; but I had not shown it to my mother, whose chaste and +pious purity of mind might have taken alarm at the more antique than +Christian voluptuousness of some of my elegies. I hoped that the simple +grace and the winged enthusiasm of my poetry might please some +intelligent publisher, who would buy my volume, or at least consent to +print it at his own expense; and that the public taste, attracted by +the novelty of a style springing from the heart, and nursed in the +woods, would, perhaps, confer on me a humble fortune and a name. + + + + +LIX. + + +I had no need to look for a lodging in Paris. One of my friends, the +young Count de V----, who had just returned from his travels, was to +spend the winter and the following spring there, and had offered to +share with me a little _entresol_ that he occupied, over the rooms of +the concierge in the magnificent hotel (since pulled down) of the +Maréchal de Richelieu, in the Rue Neuve St. Augustin. The Count de +V----, with whom I was in almost daily correspondence, knew all. I had +given him a letter of introduction to Julie, that he might know the +soul of my soul, and that he might understand, if not my delirium, at +least my adoration for that woman. At first sight, he comprehended and +almost shared my enthusiasm. In his letters, he always alluded, with +tender pity and respect, to that fair vision of melancholy, which +seemed hovering between life and death, and only detained on earth, he +said, by the ineffable love she bore to me. He always spoke to me of +her as of a heavenly gift, sent to my eyes and heart, and which would +raise me above human nature as long as I remained enveloped in her +radiance. V----, who was persuaded of the holy and superhuman nature of +our attachment, considered it as a virtue, and felt no repugnance to +being the mediator and confidant of our love. Julie, on her part, spoke +of V---- as the only friend she considered worthy of me, and for whom +she would have wished to increase my friendship, instead of detracting +from it by a mean jealousy of the heart. Both urged me to come to +Paris, but V----, alone, knew the secret motives, and the strictly +material impossibility, which had detained me till then. Spite of his +devoted friendship, of which he gave me, until his death, so many +proofs during the troubles of my life, it was not in his power at that +time to remove the obstacles that arrested me. His mother had exhausted +her means to give him an education befitting his rank, and to allow him +to travel through Europe. He was himself deep in debt, and could only +offer me a corner in the apartment that his family provided for him. As +to all the rest, he was, at that time of his life, as poor and as much +enslaved as myself by the want so cruelly defined by Horace--_Res +angustæ domi_. + +I left M---- in a little one-horse jaunting car, consisting of a wooden +seat on an axle-tree, and four poles which supported a tarpaulin to +shelter us against the rain. These cars changed horses every four or +five miles, and served to convey to Paris the masons from the +Bourbonnais and from Auvergne, the weary pedestrians they met on the +road, and soldiers lamed by their long marches who were glad to spare a +day's fatigue for a few sous. I felt no shame or annoyance at this +vulgar mode of conveyance; I would have travelled barefooted through +the snow, and not have felt less proud or less happy, for I was thus +saving one or two louis with which I could purchase some days of +happiness. I reached the barrier of Paris without having felt a pebble +of the road. The night was dark, and it was raining hard; I took up my +portmanteau, and soon after knocked at the door of the humble lodging +of the Count de V----. + +He was waiting for me; he embraced me, and spoke of her. I was never +wearied of questioning and listening to him. That same evening I was to +see Julie. V---- was to announce my arrival, and prepare her for joy. +When every visitor had retired from Julie's drawing-room, V---- was to +leave last of all to join me at a little _café_ of the neighborhood +where I was to wait for him, and give me notice that she was alone, and +that I might throw myself at her feet. It was only after I had learned +all these particulars that I thought of drying my clothes and taking +some refreshment. I then took possession of the dark alcove of his +ante-room, which was lighted by one round window, and heated by a +stove. I dressed myself neatly and simply, so that she I loved might +not blush for me before her friends. + +At eleven o'clock V---- and I went out on foot; we proceeded together +as far as the window which I knew so well. There were three carriages +at the door. V---- went up, and I retired to wait for him at the +appointed place. How long that hour seemed while I waited for him! How +I execrated those visitors who, involuntarily importunate, came in +their indifference to dispose of some idle hours, and delayed the +reunion of two fond hearts who counted each second of their martyrdom +by their palpitations! At last V---- appeared; I followed rapidly on +his steps, he left me at the door, and I went up. + + + + +LX. + + +If I were to live a thousand times a thousand years, I should never +forget that instant and that sight. She was standing up in the light, +her elbow resting carelessly on the white marble of the chimney; her +tall and slender figure, her shoulders, and her profile, were reflected +in the glass; her face was turned towards the door, her eyes fixed on a +little dark passage leading to the drawing-room, and her head was bent +forward, and slightly inclined on one side, in the attitude of one +listening for the sound of approaching footsteps. She was dressed in +mourning, in a black silk dress trimmed with black lace round the neck +and the skirt. This profusion of lace, rumpled by the cushions of the +sofa to which her indolent and languid life confined her, hung around +her like the black and clustering bunches of the elder, shedding its +berries in the autumnal wind. The dark color of her gown left only her +shoulders, neck, and face in light, and the mourning of her dress +seemed completed by the natural mourning of her dark hair, which was +gathered up at the back of her head. This uniformity of color added to +her height, and showed to advantage her graceful and flexible figure. +The reflection of the fire in the glass, the light of the lamp on the +chimney-piece striking on her cheek, and the animation of impatient +expectation and love, shed on her countenance a splendor of youth, +bloom, and life, which seemed a transfiguration effected by love. + +My first exclamation was one of joy and delighted surprise at seeing +her thus, more living, lovely, and immortal, in my eyes, than I had +ever seen her in the brightest days of Savoy. A feeling of deceitful +security and eternal possession entered into my heart, as my eyes fell +on her. She tried to stammer forth a few words on seeing me, but could +not. Her lips trembled with emotion. I fell at her feet, and pressed my +lips to the carpet upon which she trod. I then looked up to assure +myself that her presence was not a dream. She laid one of her hands +upon my hair, which thrilled beneath her touch, and holding by the +other to the marble of the chimney-piece, she too fell on her knees +before me. We gazed at each other at a distance. We sought words, and +found none for our excess of joy. We remained silent, but that very +silence and our kneeling posture was a language; I knelt full of +adoration, she full of happiness, and our attitude seemed to say, They +adore one another, but a phantom of Death stands between, and though +their eyes drink rapture, they will never be clasped in each other's +arms. + + + + +LXI. + + +I know not how many minutes we remained thus, nor how many thousand +interrogations and answers, what floods of tears, and oceans of joy +passed unexpressed between our mute and closed lips, between our +moistened eyes, between her countenance and mine. Happiness had struck +us motionless, and time had ceased to be. It was eternity in an +instant. + +There was a knock at the street door; a sound of feet on the stairs. I +rose, and she resumed, with a faltering step, her place on the sofa. I +sat down on the other side, in the shade, to hide my flushed cheeks and +tearful eyes. A man of already advanced age, of imposing stature, with +a benignant, noble, and beaming countenance, slowly entered the room. +He approached the sofa without speaking, and imprinted a paternal kiss +on Julie's trembling hand. It was Monsieur de Bonald. Spite of the +painful awakening from ecstasy that the knock and arrival of a stranger +had produced in me, I inwardly blessed him for having interrupted that +first look in which reason might have been overpowered by rapture. +There are times when the cold voice of reason is required to still with +its icy tones the fever of the senses, and to strengthen anew the soul +in its holy and energetic resolves. + + + + +LXII. + + +Julie introduced me to M. de Bonald as the young man whose verses he +had read; he was surprised at my youth, and addressed me with +indulgence. He conversed with Julie with the paternal familiarity of a +man whose genius had rendered him illustrious; he had all the serenity +of age, and sought in the company of a young and lovely woman merely a +passing ray of beauty to enchant his eyes, and the charm of her society +during the calm and conversational hours at the close of day. His voice +was deep, as though it came from the heart, and his conversation flowed +with the graceful, yet serious, ease of a mind which seeks to unbend in +repose. Honesty was stamped on his brow, and spoke in the accents of +his voice. As the conversation seemed likely to be prolonged, and the +clock was on the point of striking twelve, I thought it right to take +my leave first, so as to create no suspicion of too great familiarity +in the mind of a friend and visitor of older standing than myself in +the house. Silence and one single look were the only reward I received +for my long and ardent expectation and my weary journey; but I bore +away with me her image and the certainty of seeing her every day,--that +was enough; it was too much. I wandered a long while on the quays, +baring my breast to the night air, and inhaling it with my lips, to +allay the fever of happiness which possessed me. On my return home, I +found that V---- had been asleep many hours; as for me, it was +daylight, and I had heard the cries of the venders in the streets of +Paris before I closed my eyes. + + * * * * * + +My days were filled with one single thought, which I treasured up in my +heart, and would not even allow my countenance to reveal, as a precious +perfume of which one would fear to let a particle evaporate by exposing +the vase that contains it to the outward air. I used to rise with the +first rays of light, which always penetrated tardily into the dark +alcove of the little ante-room where my friend gave me shelter like a +mendicant of love. I always began the day by a long letter to Julie, +which was but a calmer continuation of the conversation of the day +before; in it I poured forth all the thoughts that had suggested +themselves since I had left her. Love feels delightful remorse at its +tender omissions; accuses, reproaches itself, and feels no rest till +they have been repaired. They are gems fallen from the heart or the +lips of the loved one, which cause the lover's thoughts to travel back +over the past, to gather them up, and to increase the treasure of his +feelings. Julie, when she awoke, received my letter, which made it +appear to her as though the conversation of the preceding evening had +not been interrupted, but had been kept up in whispered tones during +her sleep. I always received her answer before noon. + +My heart being thus appeased, after the agitation of the night, my next +thought was to calm the impatience for the evening's interview, which +began to take possession of me. I strove not to divert my heart from +its one thought, but to interest my eyes and mind, and had laid down as +a law to myself to spend several hours in reading and study, to occupy +the interval between the time when I left Julie till we met again. I +wished to improve myself not for others, but for her,--in order that he +whom she loved should not disgrace her preference; and that those +superior men who composed her society, and who sometimes saw me in her +drawing-room standing at a corner of the fireplace, like a statue of +contemplation, should discover in me, if by chance they spoke to me, a +soul, an intelligence, a hope, or a promise, beneath my timid and +silent appearance. Then I had vague dreams of shining exploits, of a +stirring destiny, which Julie would watch from afar, and rejoice to see +me struggling with men, rising in strength, in greatness, and in power; +I thought she might one day glory secretly in having appreciated me +before the crowd, and in having loved me before posterity. + + + + +LXIII. + + +All this, and still more, my forced leisure, the obsession of one +besetting thought, my contempt for all besides, the want of money to +procure other amusement, and the almost claustral seclusion in which I +lived, disposed me to a life of more intense and eager study than I had +yet led. I passed my whole day seated at a little writing-table, which +was placed beneath the small round window opening on the yard of the +Hôtel Richelieu. The room was heated by a Dutch stove; a screen +enclosed my table and chair, and hid me from the observation of the +young men of fashion who often came to see my friend. In the spacious +yard below there were sounds of carriages, then silence, and now and +then bright rays of winter sun struggling against the grovelling fog of +the streets of Paris, which reminded me a little of the play of light, +the sounds of the wind, and the transparent mists of our mountains. +Sometimes I would see a sweet little boy six or eight years old playing +there; he was the son of the concierge. There was something in his face +which seemed that of a suffering angel; in his fair hair curled on his +forehead, and in his intelligent and ingenuous countenance, that +reminded me of the innocent faces of the children of my own province. +Indeed, I discovered that his family had come originally from a village +near that in which my father resided, had fallen into want, and had +been transplanted to Paris. This child had conceived a fondness for me, +from seeing me always at the window above the rooms his mother +inhabited, and had of his own accord and gratuitously devoted himself +to my service. He executed all my messages; brought me my bread, some +cheese, or the fruit for my breakfast; and went every morning to +purchase my little provisions at the grocer's. I used to take my frugal +repast on my writing-table, in the midst of my open books or +interrupted pages. The child had a black dog, which had been forgotten +at the house by some visitor; this dog had ended like the child by +attaching itself to me, and they could not be made to go down the +little wooden stairs when once they had ascended them. During the +greater part of the day, they lay and played together on the mat at my +feet beneath my table. At a later period I took away the dog with me +from Paris, and kept it many years, as a loving and faithful memento of +those days of solitude. I lost him in 1820, not without tears, in +traversing the forests of the Pontine Marshes between Rome and +Terracina. The poor child is become a man, and has learned the art of +engraving, which he practices ably at Lyons. My name having resounded +since, even in his shop, he came to see me, and wept with joy at +beholding me, and with grief at hearing of the loss of the dog. Poor +heart of man! that ever requires what it has once loved, and that sheds +tears of the same water, for the loss of an empire, or for the loss of +an animal. + + + + +LXIV. + + +During the thousands of hours in which I was thus confined between the +stove, the screen, the window, the child, and the dog, I read over all +that antiquity has written and bequeathed to us, except the poets, with +whom we had been surfeited at school, and in whose verses our wearied +eyes saw but the caæsura, and the long or short syllables. Sad effect +of premature satiety, which withers in the mind of a child the most +brightly tinted and perfumed flowers of human thought. But I read over +every philosopher, orator, and historian, in his own language. I loved +especially those who united the three great faculties of +intelligence,--narration, eloquence, and reflection; the fact, the +discourse, and the moral. Thucydides and Tacitus above all others; then +Machiavelli, the sublime practitioner of the diseases of empires; then +Cicero, the sonorous vessel which contains all, from the individual +tears of the man, the husband, the father, and the friend, up to the +catastrophes of Rome and of the world, even to his gloomy forebodings +of his own fate. There is in Cicero a stratum of divine philosophy and +serenity, through which all waters seem to be filtrated and clarified, +and through which his great mind flows in torrents of eloquence, +wisdom, piety, and harmony. I had, till then, thought him a great but +empty speaker, with little sense contained in his long periods; I was +mistaken. Next to Plato, he is the word of antiquity made man; his +style is the grandest of any language. We suppose him meagre, because +his drapery is so magnificent; but strip him of his purple and you will +still find a vast mind, which has felt, understood, and said, all that +there was to comprehend, to feel, or to say, in his day in Rome. + + + + +LXV. + + +As to Tacitus, I did not even attempt to combat my partiality for him. +I preferred him even to Thucydides, the Demosthenes of history. +Thucydides relates, but does not give life and being. Tacitus is not +the historian, but a compendium of mankind. His narration is the +counter-blow of the fact in the heart of a free, virtuous, and feeling +man. The shudder that one feels as one reads not only passes over the +flesh, but is a shudder of the heart. His sensibility is more than +emotion,--it is pity; his judgments are more than vengeance,--they are +justice; his indignation is more than anger,--it is virtue. Our hearts +mingle with that of Tacitus, and we feel proud of our kindred with him. +Would you make crime impossible to your sons? Would you inspire them +with the love of virtue? Rear them in the love of Tacitus. If they do +not become heroes at such a school, Nature must have created them base +or vile. A people who adopted Tacitus as their political gospel would +rise above the common stature of nations; such a people would enact +before God the tragical drama of mankind in all its grandeur and in all +its majesty. As to me, I owe to his writings more than the fibres of +the flesh, I owe all the metallic fibres of my being. Should our vulgar +and commonplace days ever rise to the tragic grandeur of his time, and +I become the worthy victim of a worthy cause, I might exclaim in dying, +"Give the honor of my life and of my death to the master, and not to +the disciple, for it is Tacitus that lived, and dies in me." + + + + +LXVI. + + +I was also a passionate admirer of orators. I studied them with the +presentiment of a man who would one day have to speak to the deaf +multitude, and who would strike the chords of human auditors. I studied +Demosthenes, Cicero, Mirabeau, and especially Lord Chatham,--more +striking to my mind than all the rest, because his inspired and lyrical +eloquence seems more like a cry than like a voice. It soars above his +limited audience and the passions of the day, on the loftiest wings of +poetry, to the immutable regions of eternal truth and of eternal +feeling. Chatham receives truth from the hand of God; and with him it +becomes, not only the light, but also the thunder of the debate. +Unfortunately, as in the case of Phidias at the Parthenon, we have only +fragments, heads, arms, and mutilated trunks left of him. But when in +thought we reassemble these remains, we produce marvels and divinities +of eloquence. I pictured to myself times, events, and passions, like +those which upraised these great men, a forum such as that they filled; +and like Demosthenes addressing the billows of the sea, I spoke +inwardly to the phantoms of my imagination. + + + + +LXVII. + + +About this period I read for the first time the speeches of Fox and +Pitt. I thought Fox declamatory, though prosaic; one of those cavilling +minds, born to gainsay, rather than to say,--lawyers without gowns, +with mere lip-conscience, who plead above all for their own popularity. +I saw in Pitt a statesman whose words were deeds, and who in the crash +of Europe maintained his country, almost alone, on the foundation of +his good sense, and the consistency of his character. Pitt was +Mirabeau, with less impulse and more integrity. Mirabeau and Pitt +became, and have ever continued to be, my favorite statesmen of modern +days. Compared to them, I saw in Montesquieu only erudite, ingenious, +and systematical dissertations; Fénelon seemed to me divine, but +chimerical; Rousseau, more impassioned than inspired, greater by +instinct than by truth; while Bossuet, with his golden eloquence and +fawning soul, united, in his conduct and his language before Louis +XIV., doctoral despotism with the complaisance of a courtier. From +these studies of history and oratory I naturally passed on to politics. +The remembrance of the imperial yoke which had just been shaken off, +and my abhorrence of the military rule to which we had been subjected, +impelled me towards liberty. On the other hand, family recollections; +the influence of daily associations; the touching situation of a royal +family, passing from a throne to a scaffold or to exile, and brought +back from exile to a throne; the orphan princess in the palace of her +fathers; those old men, crowned by misfortune as much as by their +ancestry; those young princes, schooled by stern adversity, from whom +so much might be expected,--all made me hope that new-born liberty +might be made to accord with the ancient monarchy of our forefathers. +The government would thus have possessed the two most potent spells in +all human affairs,--antiquity and novelty; memory and hope. It was a +fair dream, and most natural at my age. Each succeeding day, however, +dispelled a portion of that dream. I perceived with grief that old +forms but ill contain new ideas; that monarchy and liberty would never +hold together in one bond without a perpetual struggle; that in that +struggle the strength of the state would be exhausted, that monarchy +would be constantly suspected, liberty constantly betrayed. + + + + +LXVIII. + + +From these general studies I turned to another that perhaps engrossed +my mind the more from the very aridity and dryness of its nature, so +far removed from the intoxication of love and fancy in which I lived. I +mean political economy, or the science of the Wealth of Nations. + +V---- had applied his mind to it with more curiosity than ardor. All +the Italian, English, or French books that had been written on the +science lined his shelves and covered his table. We read and discussed +them together, noting down the remarks that they suggested. The science +of political economy, which at that time laid down, as it still does in +the present day, more axioms than truths, and proposed more problems +than it can solve, had for us precisely the charm of mystery. It +became, moreover, between us an endless theme for those conversations +which exercise the intelligence without engrossing the mind, and suffer +us to feel, even while conversing, the presence of the one secret and +continuous thought concealed in the inmost recesses of our hearts. It +was an enigma of which we sought the answer without any great desire to +find it. After having read, examined, and noted all that constituted +the science at that time, I fancied I could discern a few theoretical +principles true in their generality, doubtful in their application, +ambitiously aspiring to be classed among absolute truths, often hollow +or false in their formula. I had no objection to make, but my +instinctive desire of demonstration was not thoroughly satisfied. I +threw down the books and awaited the light. Political economy at that +time did not exist; being an entirely experimental science, it had +neither sufficient maturity nor long standing to affirm so positively. +Since then it has progressed and promises to statesmen a few dogmas +which may be applied cautiously to society, a few sources of general +comfort, and some new ties of fraternity, to be strengthened between +nations. + + + + +LXIX. + + +I varied these serious pursuits with the study of diplomacy or the laws +of intercourse between governments, which had always attracted me from +my early youth. Chance directed me to the fountain-head. At the time +that I applied myself to political economy I had written a pamphlet of +about a hundred pages, on a subject which at that period attracted a +great share of public attention. The title of the pamphlet was: "What +place can the nobility occupy in France under a constitutional +government?" I treated this question, which was a most delicate one at +the time, with the instinctive good sense that Nature had allotted to +me, and with the impartiality of a youthful mind, soaring without +effort above the vanities from on high, the envy from below, and the +prejudices of his day. I spoke with love of the people, with +intelligence of our institutions, and with respect of that historic +nobility whose names were long the name of France herself, on her +battlefields, in her magistracy, and in foreign lands. I was for the +suppression of all privileges of nobility, save the memory of nations, +which cannot be suppressed, and proposed an elective peerage, showing +that in a free country there could be no other nobility than that of +election, which is a perpetual stimulus to public duty, and a temporary +reward of the merit or virtues of its citizens. + +Julie, to whom I had lent the manuscript in order to initiate her in +the labors of my life, had shown it to Monsieur M----, a clever man of +her intimate acquaintance, for whose judgment she entertained the +greatest deference. M. M---- was the worthy son of an illustrious +member of the Constituent Assembly, had been the Emperor's private +secretary, and was now a constitutional royalist. He was one of those +whose minds are never youthful, who enter mature into the world, and +die young, leaving a void in their epoch. M. M----, after reading my +work, asked Julie who was the political man who had written those +pages. She smiled, and confessed that they were the production of a +very young man, who had neither name nor experience, and was quite +unknown in the political world. M. M---- required to see me to believe. +I was introduced to him, and he received me with kindness which +afterwards ripened into a friendship, that remained unchanged until his +death. My work was never printed; but M. M----, in his turn, introduced +me to his friend, M. de Reyneval, a man of luminous understanding, +open-hearted, and of an attractive and cheerful though grave and +laborious mind, who was at that time the life of our foreign policy. He +died, not long ago, while ambassador at Madrid. M. de Reyneval, who had +read my work, received me with that encouraging grace and cordial smile +which seems to overleap distance, and always wins at first sight the +heart of a young man. He was one of those men from whom it is pleasant +to learn, because they seem, so to speak, to diffuse themselves in +teaching, and to give rather than prescribe. One learned more of Europe +in a few mornings by conversing with this most agreeable man, than in a +whole diplomatic library. He possessed tact, the innate genius of +negotiations. I owe to him my taste for those high political affairs +which he handled with full consciousness of their importance, but +without seeming to feel their weight. His strength made everything +easy, and his ready condescension seemed to infuse grace and heart into +business. He encouraged my desire to enter on the diplomatic career, +presented me himself to the Director of the Archives, M. d'Hauterive, +and authorized him to allow me access to the collection of our treaties +and negotiations. M. d'Hauterive, who had grown old over despatches, +might be said to be the unalterable tradition and the living dogma of +our diplomacy. With his commanding figure, hollow voice, his thick and +powdered hair, his long, bushy eyebrows overshading a deep-set and dim +eye, he seemed a living, speaking century. He received me like a +father, and appeared happy to transmit to me the inheritance of all his +hoarded knowledge; he made me read, and take notes under his own eye, +and twice a week I used to study for a few hours under his direction. I +love the memory of his green old age, which so prodigally bestowed its +experience on a young man whose name he scarcely knew. M. d'Hauterive +died during the battle of July, 1830, amid the roar of the cannon which +annihilated the policy of the Bourbons and the treaties of 1815. + + + + +LXX. + + +Such were my studious and retired habits in my little room. I wished +for nothing more; my desire to enter on some career was in truth but my +mother's ambition for me, and the regret of expending the price of her +diamond, without some compensation in my bettered condition. If at that +time I had been offered an embassy to quit Paris, and a palace to leave +my truckle-bed in the ante-room, I would have closed my eyes not to +see, and my ears not to listen to Fortune. I was too happy in my +obscurity, thanks to the ray, invisible to others, which warmed and +illumined my darkness. + +My happiness dawned as the day declined. I habitually dined at home +alone in my cell, and my repast generally consisted of a slice of +boiled meat, some salad, and bread. I drank water only, to save the +expense of even a little wine, so necessary to correct the insipid and +often unwholesome water of Paris. By this means, twenty sous a day paid +for my dinner, and this meal was sufficient not only for myself but to +feed the dog who had adopted me. After dinner, I used to throw myself +on my bed, overcome by the application and solitude of the day, and +strove thus to abridge by sleep the long, dark hours which yet divided +me from the moment when time commenced for me. These were hours which +young men of my age spend in theatres, public places, or the expensive +amusements of a capital, as I had done before my transformation. I +generally awaked about eleven, and then dressed with the simplicity of +a young man whose good looks and figure set off his plain attire. I was +always neatly shod, besides having white linen and a black coat, +carefully brushed by my own hands, which I buttoned up to the throat, +after the fashion of the young disciples of the schools of the Middle +Ages. A military cloak, whose ample folds were thrown over my left +shoulder, preserved my dress from being splashed in the streets, and, +on the whole, my plain and unpretending costume, which neither aspired +to elegance nor betrayed my distress, admitted of my passing from my +solitude to a drawing-room without either attracting or offending the +eye of the indifferent. I always went on foot; for the price of one +evening's coach-hire would have cost me a day of my life of love. I +walked on the pavement, keeping close along the walls to avoid the +contact of carriage-wheels, and proceeded slowly on tip-toe for fear of +the mud, which in a well-lighted drawing-room would have betrayed the +humble pedestrian. I was in no hurry, for I knew that Julie received +every evening some of her husband's friends, and I preferred waiting +till the last carriage had driven away before I knocked. This reserve +on my part arose not only from the fear of the remarks which might be +made concerning my constant presence in the house of so young and +lovely a woman, but, above all, from my dislike to share with others +her looks and words. It seemed to me that each of those with whom she +was obliged to keep up a conversation robbed me of some part of her +presence or her mind. To see her, to hear her, and not to possess her +alone, were often a harder trial to me than not to see her at all. + + + + +LXXI. + + +To pass away the time I used to walk from one end to the other of a +bridge which crossed the Seine nearly opposite to the house where Julie +lived. How many thousand times I have reckoned the boards of that +bridge, which resounded beneath my feet! How many copper coins I have +thrown, as I passed and repassed, into the tin cup of the poor blind +man, who was seated through rain or snow on the parapet of that bridge! +I prayed that my mite which rung in the heart of the poor, and from +thence in the ear of God, might purchase for me in return a long and +secure evening, and the departure of some intruder who delayed my +happiness. + +Julie, who knew my dislike to meeting strangers at her house, had +devised with me a signal which should inform me from afar of the +presence or absence of visitors in her little drawing-room. When they +were numerous, the two inside shutters of the window were closed, and I +could only see a faint streak of light glimmering between the two +leaves; when there were one or two familiar friends, on the point of +leaving, one shutter was opened; and at last, when all were gone, the +two shutters were thrown open, the curtains withdrawn, and I could see +from the opposite quay the light of the lamp which stood on the little +table, where she read or worked while expecting me. I never lost sight +of that distant ray, which was visible and intelligible for me alone, +amid the thousand lights of windows, lamps, shops, carriages, and +_cafés_, and among all those avenues of fixed or wandering fires which +illumine at night the buildings and the horizon of Paris. All other +illuminations no longer existed for me,--there was no other light on +earth, no other star in the firmament but that small window, which +seemed like an open eye seeking me out in darkness, and on which my +eyes, my thoughts, my soul, were ever and solely bent. O +incomprehensible power of the infinite nature of man, which can fill +the universal space and think it too confined; or can be concentrated +in one bright speck shining through the river mists, amid the ocean of +fires of a vast city, and feel its desires, feelings, intelligence, and +love bounded by that small spark which scarce outshines the glowworm of +a summer's evening! How often have I thus thought as I paced the +bridge, muffled in my cloak! How often have I exclaimed, as I gazed at +that oval window shining in the distance: Let all the fires of earth be +quenched, let all the luminous globes of the firmament be extinguished, +but may that feeble light--the mysterious star of our two lives--shine +on forever; its glimmering would illumine countless worlds, and suffice +my eyes through all eternity! + +Alas, since then I have seen this star of my youth expire, this burning +focus of my eyes and heart extinguished! I have seen the shutters of +the window closed for many a long year on the funereal darkness of that +little room. One year, one day, I saw them once more opened. I looked +to see who dared to live where she had lived before; and then I saw, in +summer time, at that same window, bathed in sunshine and adorned with +flowers, a young woman whom I did not know playing and smiling with a +new-born child, unconscious that she played upon a grave, that her +smiles were turned to tears in the eyes of a passer-by, and that so +much life seemed as a mockery of death.... Since then, at night, I have +returned; and every year I still return, approach that wall with +faltering steps, and touch that door; and then I sit on the stone +bench, and watch the lights, and listen to the voices from above. I +sometimes fancy that I see the light reflected from her lamp; that I +hear the tones of her voice; that I can knock at that door; that she +expects me; that I can go in--...O Memory, art thou a gift from Heaven, +or pain of Hell!...But I resume my story, since you, my friend, desire +it. + + + + +LXXII. + + +The day after my arrival, Julie had introduced me to the old man, who +was to her a father, and whose latter days she brightened with the +radiance of her mind, her tenderness, and her beauty. He received me as +a son. He had learned from her our meeting in Savoy, our fraternal +attachment, our daily correspondence, and the affinity of our minds, as +shown by the conformity of our tastes, ages, and feelings. He knew the +entire purity of our attachment, and felt no jealousy, or any anxiety, +save for the life, the happiness, and reputation of his ward. He only +feared she might have been attracted and deceived by that first look, +which is sometimes a revelation, and sometimes a delusion of the young, +and that she might have bestowed her heart on a man of the creation of +her fancy. My letters, from which she had read him several passages, +had somewhat reassured him, but it was only from my countenance he +could learn whether they were an artful or natural expression of my +feelings; for style may deceive, but the countenance never can. + +The old man surveyed me with that anxious attention which is often +concealed under an appearance of momentary abstraction. But as he saw +me more, and questioned me, I could see his searching look clear up, +betray an inward satisfaction, soften gradually into one of confidence +and good-will, and rest upon me with that security and caress of the +eye, which though a mute is perhaps the best reception at a first +interview. My ardent desire to please him; the timidity so natural to a +young man, who feels that the fate of his heart depends on the judgment +passed upon him; the fear that it might not be favorable; the presence +of Julie, which disconcerted though it encouraged me; and all the +shades of thought so plainly legible in my modest attitude and my +flushed cheeks,--spoke in my favor better than I could have done +myself. The old man took my hand with a paternal gesture, and said, +"Compose yourself; and consider that you have two friends in this +house, instead of one. Julie could not have better chosen a brother, +and I would not choose another son." He embraced me, and we talked +together as if he had known me from my childhood, until an old servant +came at ten o'clock, according to his invariable custom, to give him +the help of his arm on the stair, and lead him back to his own +apartment. + + + + +LXXIII. + + +His was a beautiful and attractive old age, to which nothing was +wanting but the security of a morrow. It was so disinterested and +parental, that it in no wise offended the eye, though associated with a +young and lovely woman. It was as an evening shade upon the bloom of +morning; but one felt that it was a protecting shade, sheltering but +not withering her youth, beauty, and innocence. The features of this +celebrated man were regular as the pure outline of antique profiles +which time emaciates slightly, but cannot impair. His blue eyes had +that softened but penetrating expression of worn-out sight, as if they +looked through a slight haze. There was an arch expression of implied +meaning in his mouth; and his smile was playful as that of a father to +his little children. His hair, which age and study had thinned, was +soft and fine, like the down of a swan. His hands were white and taper +as the marble hands of the statue of Seneca taking his dying leave of +Paulina. There were no wrinkles on his face, which had become thin and +pale from the long labor of the mind, for it had never been plump. A +few blue and bloodless veins might be traced on the depressed temples; +the light of the fire was reflected on the forehead,--that latest +beauty of man, which thought chisels and polishes unceasingly. There +was in the cheek that delicacy of skin,--that transparency of a face +which has grown old within the shade of walls, and which neither wind +nor sun have ever tanned; the complexion of woman, which gives an +effeminacy to the countenance of old men, and the ethereal, fragile, +and impalpable appearance of a vision, that the slightest breath might +dispel. His calm and well-weighed expressions, naturally set in clear, +concise, and lucid phrase, had all the precision of one who has been +used to careful selection in clothing his thoughts for writing or +dictation. His sentences were interrupted by long pauses, as if to +allow time for them to penetrate the ear, and to be appreciated by the +mind of the listener; he relieved them, every now and then, by graceful +pleasantry, never degenerating into coarseness, as though he purposely +upheld the conversation on these light and sportive wings, to prevent +its being borne down by the weight of too continuous ideas. + + + + +LXXIV. + + +I soon learned to love this charming and talented old man. If I am +destined to attain old age, I should wish to grow old like him. There +was but one thing grieved me as I looked at him,--it was to see him +advancing towards death, without believing in Immortality. The natural +sciences that he had so deeply studied had accustomed his mind to trust +exclusively to the evidence of his senses. Nothing existed for him that +was not palpable; what could not be calculated contained no element of +certitude in his eyes; matter and figures composed his universe; +numbers were his god; the phenomena of Nature were his revelations, +Nature herself his Bible and his gospel; his virtue was instinct, not +seeing that numbers, phenomena, Nature, and virtue are but hieroglyphs +inscribed on the veil of the temple, whose unanimous meaning is--Deity. +Sublime but stubborn minds, who wonderfully ascend the steps of +science, one by one,--but will never pass the last, which leads to God. + + + + +LXXV. + + +This second father very soon became so fond of me, that he proposed to +give me occasionally, in his library, some lessons in those elevated +sciences which had rendered him illustrious, and now constituted his +chief relaxation. I went to him sometimes in the morning; Julie would +come at the same hours. It was a rare and touching spectacle to see +that old man seated in the midst of his books,--a monument of human +learning and philosophy, of which he had exhausted all the pages during +his long life,--discovering the mysteries of Nature and of thought to a +youth who stood beside him; while a woman, young and lovely as that +ideal philosophy, that loving wisdom,--the Beatrice of the poet of +Florence,--attended as his first disciple, and was the fellow-learner +of that younger brother. She brought the books, turned over the page, +and marked the chapters with her extended rosy finger; she moved amid +the spheres, the globes, the instruments, and the heaps of volumes, in +the dust of human knowledge; and seemed the soul of Nature disengaging +itself from matter, to kindle it and teach it to burn and love. + +I learned and understood more in a few days than in years of dry and +solitary study; but the frequent infirmities of age in the master too +often interrupted these morning lessons. + + + + +LXXVI. + + +I invariably spent a part of my night in the company of her who was to +me both night and day, time and eternity. As I have already said, I +always arrived when importunate visitors had left the drawing-room. +Sometimes I remained long hours on the quay or on the bridge, walking +or standing still by turns, and waiting in vain for the inside shutter +to open and to give the mute signal on which we had agreed. How have I +watched the sluggish waters of the Seine beneath the arches of the +bridge, bearing away in their course the trembling rays of the moon, or +the reflected light of the windows of the city. How many hours and half +hours have I not reckoned as they sounded from the near or distant +churches, and cursed their slowness or accused their speed! I knew the +tones of every brazen voice in the towers of Paris. There were lucky +and unlucky days. Sometimes I went in, without waiting an instant, and +only found her husband with her, who spent in lively talk, or friendly +conversation, the hours that unbent and prepared him for sleep. At +other times I only met one or two friends; they dropped in for a short +time, bringing the news or the excitement of the day, and devoted to +friendship the first hours of their evening, which they generally +concluded in some political drawing-room. These were in general +parliamentary men, eminent orators of the two chambers,--Suard, Bonald, +Mounier, Reyneval, Lally-Tolendal, the old man with the youthful mind, +and Lainé. This latter was the most perfect copy of ancient eloquence +and virtue that I have seen to venerate in modern times; he was a Roman +in heart, in eloquence, and in appearance, and wanted but the toga to +be the Cicero or the Cato of his day. I felt peculiar admiration and +tender respect for this personification of a good citizen; he, in his +turn, took notice of me, and often distinguished me by some look and +word of preference. He has since been my master; and if one day I had +to serve my country, or to ascend a tribune, the remembrance of his +patriotism and his eloquence would be ever present to me as a model +that I could not hope to equal, but might imitate at a distance. + +These men came round the little work-table in turn, while Julie sat +half reclined upon the sofa. I remained silent and respectful in one +corner of the room, far from her, listening, reflecting, admiring, or +disapproving inwardly, but scarcely opening my lips unless questioned, +and only joining in the conversation by a few timid and cautious words +said in a low tone. With a strong conviction on most subjects, I have +always felt an extreme shyness in expressing it before such men; they +appeared to me infinitely my superiors from age and in authority. +Respect for time, for genius, and for fame is part of my nature,--a ray +of glory dazzles me; white hairs awe me; an illustrious name bows me +voluntarily before it. I have often lost something of my real value by +this timidity, but nevertheless I have never regretted it. The +consciousness of the superiority of others is a good feeling in youth, +as at all ages, for it elevates the ideal standard to which we aspire. +Self-confidence in youth is an overweening insolence towards time and +Nature. If the feeling of the superiority of others is a delusion, it +is at least a delusion which raises human nature, and is better than +that which lowers it. Alas, we but too soon reduce it to its true but +sad proportions. + +These visitors at first paid little attention to me. I used to see them +stoop towards Julie, and ask, in a low tone, who I was. My thoughtful +countenance and my immovable and modest attitude seemed to surprise and +please them; insensibly they drew towards me, or seemed by a gracious +and encouraging gesture to address some of their remarks to me. It was +an indirect invitation to take my share in the conversation. I said a +few words in grateful recognition, but I soon relapsed into my silence +and obscurity, for fear of prolonging the conversation by keeping it +up. I considered them merely as the frame of a picture; the only real +interest I felt was in the face, the speech, and the mind of her from +whom I was shut out by their presence. + + + + +LXXVII. + + +What inward joy, what throbbing of the heart, when they retired, and +when I heard beneath the gateway the rolling of the carriage which bore +away the last of them! We were then alone; the night was far advanced; +our security increased at every move of the minute hand as it +approached the figure that marked midnight on the dial. Nothing was to +be heard but the sound of a few carriages, which, at rare intervals, +rattled over the stones of the quay, or the deep breathing of the old +concierge, who was stretched sleeping on a bench in the vestibule at +the foot of the stairs. + +We would first look at each other, as if surprised at our happiness. I +would draw nearer to the table where Julie worked by the light of the +lamp. The work soon fell from her unheeding hands; our looks expanded, +our lips were unsealed, our hearts overflowed. Our choked and hurried +words, like the flow of water impeded by too narrow an opening, were at +first slowly poured forth, and the torrent of our thoughts trickled out +drop by drop. We could not select, among the many things we had to say, +those we most wished to impart to each other. Sometimes there was a +long silence, caused by the confusion and excess of crowded thoughts +which accumulated in our hearts and could not escape. Then they began +to flow slowly, like those first drops which show that the cloud is +about to dissolve or burst; these words called forth others in +response; one voice led on the other, as a falling child draws his +companion with him. Our words mingled without order, without answer, +and without connection; neither of us would yield the happiness of +outstripping the other in the expression of one common feeling. We +fancied that we had first felt what we disclosed of our thoughts since +the evening's conversation, or the morning's letter. At last this +tumultuous overflow, at which we laughed and blushed, after a time +subsided, and gave place to a calm effusion of the lips, which poured +forth together, or alternately, the plenitude of their expressions. It +was a continuous and murmuring transfusion of one soul into +another,--an unreserved interchange of our two natures,--a complete +transmutation of one into another, by the reciprocal communication of +all that breathed, or lived, or burned within us. Never, perhaps, did +two beings as irreproachable in their looks, or in their very thoughts, +bare their hearts to one another more unreservedly, and reveal the +mysterious depths of their feelings. The innocent nudity of our souls +was chaste, though unveiled, as light that discovers all, yet sullies +nothing. We had nought to reveal but the spotless love which purified +as it consumed us. + +Our love, by its very purity, was incessantly renewed, with the same +light of soul, the same unsullied transports of its first bloom. Each +day was like the first; every instant was as that ineffable moment when +we felt it dawn within us, and saw it reflected in the heart and looks +of another self. Our love would always preserve its flower and its +perfume, for the fruit could never be culled. + + + + +LXXVIII. + + +Of all the different means by which God has allowed soul to communicate +with soul, through the transparent barrier of the senses, there was not +one that our love did not employ to manifest itself,--from the look +which conveys most of ourselves, in an almost ethereal ray, to the +closed lids, which seem to enfold within us the image we have received, +that it may not evaporate; from languor to delirium, from the sigh to +the loud cry; from the long silence to those exhaustless words which +flow from the lips without pause and without end, which stop the +breath, weary the tongue, which we pronounce without hearing them, and +which have no other meaning than an impotent effort to say, again and +again, what can never be said enough.... + +Many a time did we talk thus for hours, in whispered tones, leaning on +the little table close to each other, without perceiving that our +conversation had lasted more than the space of a single aspiration; +quite surprised to find that the minutes had flown as swiftly as our +words, and that the clock struck the inexorable hour of parting. + +Sometimes there would be interrogations and answers as to our most +fugitive shades of thought and nature, dialogues in almost unheard +whispers, articulate sighs rather than audible words, blushing +confessions of our most secret inward repinings, joyful exclamations of +surprise at discovering in us both the same impressions reflected from +one another, as light in reverberations, the blow in the counterblow, +the form in the image. We would exclaim, rising by a simultaneous +impulse, "We are not two; we are one single being under two illusive +natures! Which will say you unto the other; which will say I? There is +no _I_; there is no _you_; but only _we_." ... We would then sink down, +overcome with admiration at this wonderful conformity, weeping with +delight at this twofold existence, and at having doubled our lives by +consecrating them to each other. + + + + +LXXIX. + + +Most generally we used to travel back over the past, step by step, and +recall with scrupulous minuteness every place, circumstance, and hour +which had brought on, or marked the beginning of our love,--like some +young girl who has scattered by the way the unstrung pearls of her +precious necklace, and returns upon her steps, her eyes bent upon the +ground, to find and gather them up, one by one. We would not lose the +recollection of one of those places, or one of those hours, for fear of +losing at the same time the hoarded memory of a single joy. We +remembered the mountains of Savoy; the valley of Chambéry; the torrents +and the lake; the mossy ground, sometimes in shade and sometimes +dappled with light, beneath the outstretched arms of the +chestnut-trees; the rays between the branches, the glimpse of sky +through the leafy dome above our heads, the blue expanse and the white +sails at our feet; our first unsought meetings in the mountain paths; +our mutual conjectures; our encounters on the lake before we knew each +other, sailing in our boats in contrary directions, her dark hair +waving in the wind, my indifferent attitude; our looks averted from the +crowd; the double enigma that we were to each other, of which the +answer was to be eternal love; then the fatal day of the tempest, and +her fainting; the mournful night of prayers and tears; the waking in +heaven; our return together by moonlight through the avenue of poplars, +her hand in mine; her warm tears which my lips had drunk, the first +words in which our souls had spoken; our joys, our parting,--we +remembered all. + +We never wearied of these details. It was as though we had related some +story which was not our own. But what was there henceforth in the +universe save ourselves? O inexhaustible curiosity of love, thou art +not only a childish delight of the hour, thou art love itself, which +never tires of contemplating what it possesses, treasures up every +impression, each hair, each thrill, each blush, each sigh of the loved +one, as a reason for loving more, as a means of feeding anew with each +memory the flame of enthusiasm, in which it joys to be consumed! + + + + + +LXXX. + + +Julie's tears would sometimes suddenly flow from a strange sadness. She +knew me condemned, by this concealed though to us ever-present death, +to behold in her but a phantom of happiness, which would vanish ere I +could press it to my heart. She grieved and accused herself for having +inspired me with a passion which could never bring me joy. "Oh, that I +could die, die soon, die young, and still beloved!" would she say. +"Yes, die, as I can be to you but the bitter delusion of love and joy; +at once your rapture and your woe. Ah, the divinest joys and the most +cruel anguish are mingled in my destiny! Oh, that love would kill me; +and that you might survive to love after me, as your nature and your +heart should love! In dying, I shall be less wretched than I am while +feeling that I live by your sacrifices, and doom your youth and your +love to a perpetual death!" + +"Oh, blaspheme not against such ineffable joy!" I exclaimed, placing my +trembling hands beneath her eyes to receive her fast dropping tears. +"What base idea have you conceived of him whom God has thought worthy +to meet, to understand, and to love you? Are there not more oceans of +tenderness and love in this tear which falls warm from your heart, and +which I carry to my lips as the life's blood of our tortured love, than +in the thousand sated desires and guilty pleasures in which are +engulfed such vile attachments as you regret for me? Have I ever seemed +to you to desire aught else than this twofold suffering? Does it not +make of us both voluntary and pure victims? Is it not an eternal +holocaust of love, such as, from Heloise to us, the angels can scarce +have witnessed? Have I ever once reproached the Almighty, even in the +madness of my solitary nights, for having raised me by you, and for +you, above the condition of man? He has given me in you, not a woman to +be polluted by the embrace of these mortal arms, but an impalpable and +sacred incarnation of immaterial beauty. Does not the celestial fire, +which night and day burns so rapturously within me, consume all dross +of vulgar desire? Am I aught but flame? A flame as pure and holy as the +rays of your soul which first kindled it, and now feed it unceasingly +through your beaming eye! Ah, Julie, estimate yourself more worthily, +and weep not over sorrows which you imagine you inflict on me! I do not +suffer. My life is one perpetual overflow of happiness, filled by you +alone,--a repose of sense, a sleep of which you are the dream. You have +transformed my nature. I suffer? Oh, would that I could sometimes +suffer, that I might have somewhat to offer unto God, were it but the +consciousness of a privation, the bitterness of a tear, in return for +all he has given me in you! To suffer for you, might, perchance, be the +only thing which could add one drop to that cup of happiness which it +is given me to quaff. To suffer thus, is it to suffer, or to enjoy? No; +thus to live, is, in truth, to die, but it is to die some years earlier +to this wretched life, to live beforehand of the life of heaven." + + + + +LXXXI. + + +She believed it, and I myself believed it, as I spoke and raised my +hands imploringly towards her. We would part after such converse as +this, each preserving, to feed on it separately till the morrow, the +impression of the last look, the echo of the last tone, that were to +give us patience to live through the long, tedious day. When I had +crossed the threshold, I would see her open her window, lean forth amid +her flowers on the iron bar of the balcony, and follow my receding +figure as long as the misty vapors of the Seine allowed her to discern +it on the bridge. Again and again would I turn to send back a sigh and +a lingering look, and strive to tear away my soul, which would not be +parted from her. It seemed as if my very being were riven asunder,--my +spirit to return and dwell with her, while my body alone, as a mere +machine, slowly wended its way through the dark and deserted streets to +the door of the hotel where I dwelt. + + + + +LXXXII. + + +Thus passed away, without other change than that afforded by my +studies, and our ever-varying impressions, the delightful months of +winter. They were drawing to a close. The early splendors of spring +already began to glance fitfully from the roofs upon the damp and +gloomy wilderness of the streets of Paris. My friend V----, recalled by +his mother, was gone, and had left me alone in the little room where he +had harbored me during my stay. He was to return in the autumn, and had +paid for the lodging for a whole year, so that, though absent, he still +extended to me his brotherly hospitality. It was with sorrow I saw him +depart; none remained to whom I could speak of Julie. The burden of my +feelings would now be doubly heavy, when I could no longer relieve +myself by resting it on the heart of another; but it was a weight of +happiness,--I could still uphold it. It was soon to become a load of +anguish, which I could confide to no living being, and least of all to +her whom I loved. + +My mother wrote me, that straightened means, caused by unexpected +reverses of fortune, which had fallen on my father in quick and harsh +succession, had reduced to comparative indigence our once open and +hospitable paternal home, obliging my poor father to withhold the half +of my allowance, to enable him to meet, and that only with much +difficulty, the expense of maintaining and educating six other +children. It was therefore incumbent upon me, she said, either by my +own unaided efforts to maintain myself honorably in Paris, or to return +home and live with resignation in the country, sharing the common +pittance of all. My mother's tenderness sought beforehand to comfort me +under this sad necessity; she dwelt on the joy it would be to her to +see me again, and placed before me, in most attractive colors, the +prospect of the labors and simple pleasures of a rural life. On the +other hand, some of the associates of my early years of gambling and +dissipation, who had now fallen into poverty, having met me in Paris, +reminded me of sundry trifling obligations which I had contracted +towards them, and begged me to come to their assistance. They stripped +me thus, by degrees, of the greater part of that little hoard which I +had saved by strict economy, to enable me to live longer in Paris. My +purse was well-nigh empty, and I began to think of courting fortune +through fame. One morning, after a desperate struggle between timidity +and love, love triumphed. I concealed beneath my coat my small +manuscript, bound in green, containing my verses, my last hope; and +though wavering and uncertain in my design, I turned my steps towards +the house of a celebrated publisher whose name is associated with the +progress of literature and typography in France, Monsieur Didot. I was +first attracted to this name because M. Didot, independently of his +celebrity as a publisher, enjoyed at that time some reputation as an +author. He had published his own verses with all the elegance, pomp and +circumstance of a poet who could himself control the approving voice of +Fame. + +When before M. Didot's door in the Rue Jacob, a door all papered with +illustrious names, a redoubled effort on my part was required to cross +the threshold, another to ascend the stairs, another still more violent +to ring at his door. But I saw the adored image of Julie encouraging +me, and her hand impelled me. I dared do anything. + +I was politely received by M. Didot, a middle-aged man with a precise +and commercial air, whose speech was brief and plain as that of a man +who knows the value of minutes. He desired to know what I had to say to +him. I stammered for some time, and became embarrassed in one of those +labyrinths of ambiguous phrases under which one conceals thoughts that +will and will not come to the point. I thought to gain courage by +gaining time; at last I unbuttoned my coat, drew out the little volume, +and presented it humbly with a trembling hand to M. Didot. I told him +that I had written these verses, and wished to have them +published,--not indeed to bring me fame (I had not that absurd +delusion), but in the hope of attracting the notice and good-will of +influential literary men; that my poverty would not permit of my going +to the expense of printing; and, therefore, I came to submit my work to +him, and request him to publish it, should he, after looking over it, +deem it worthy of the indulgence or favor of cultivated minds. M. Didot +nodded, smiled kindly, but somewhat ironically, took my manuscript +between two fingers, which seemed accustomed to crumple paper +contemptuously, and putting down my verses on the table, appointed me +to return in a week for an answer as to the object of my visit. I took +my leave. The next seven days appeared to me seven centuries. My future +prospects, my favor, my mother's consolation or despair, my love,--in a +word, my life or death, were in the hands of M. Didot. At times, I +pictured him to myself reading my verses with the same rapture that had +inspired me on my mountains, or on the brink of my native torrents; I +fancied he saw in them the dew of my heart, the tears of my eyes, the +blood of my young veins; that he called together his literary friends +to listen to them, and that I heard from my alcove the sound of their +applause. At others, I blushed to think I had exposed to the inspection +of a stranger a work so unworthy of seeing the light; that I had +discovered my weakness and my impotence in a vain hope of success, +which would be changed into humiliation, instead of being converted +into gold and joy within my grasp. Hope, however, as persevering as my +distress, often got the upper hand in my dreams, and led me on from +hour to hour until the day appointed by M. Didot. + + + + +LXXXIII. + + +My heart failed as, on the eighth day, I ascended his stairs. I +remained a long while standing on the landing-place at his door without +daring to ring. At last some one came out, the door was opened, and I +was obliged to go in. M. Didot's face was as unexpressive and as +ambiguous as an oracle. He requested me to be seated, and while looking +for my manuscript, which was buried beneath heaps of papers, "I have +read your verses, sir," he said; "there is some talent in them, but no +study. They are unlike all that is received and appreciated in our +poets. It is difficult to see whence you have derived the language, +ideas and imagery of your poetry, which cannot be classed in any +definite style. It is a pity, for there is no want of harmony. You must +renounce these novelties which would lead astray our national genius. +Read our masters,--Delille, Parny, Michaud, Reynouard, Luce de +Lancival, Fontanes; these are the poets that the public loves. You must +resemble some one, if you wish to be recognized, and to be read. I +should advise you ill if I induced you to publish this volume, and I +should be doing you a sorry service in publishing it at my expense." So +saying, he rose, and gave me back my manuscript. I did not attempt to +contest the point with Fate, which spoke in the voice of the oracle. I +took up the volume, thanked M. Didot, and, offering some excuse for +having trespassed on his time, I went downstairs, my legs trembling +beneath me, and my eyes moistened with tears. + +Ah, if M. Didot, who was a kind and feeling man, a patron of letters, +could have read in my heart, and have understood that it was neither +fame nor fortune that the unknown youth came to beg, with his book in +his hand; that it was life and love I sued for--I am sure he would have +printed my volume. He would have been repaid in heaven, at least. + + + + +LXXXIV. + + +I returned to my room in despair. The child and the dog wondered, for +the first time, at my sullen silence, and at the gloom that overspread +my countenance. I lighted the stove, and threw in, sheet by sheet, my +whole volume, without sparing a single page. "Since thou canst not +purchase for me a single day of life and love," I exclaimed, as I +watched it burning, "what care I if the immortality of my name be +consumed with thee? Love, not fame, is my immortality." + +That same evening, I went out at nightfall. I sold my poor mother's +diamond. Till then I had kept it, in the hope that my verses might have +redeemed its value, and that I might preserve it untouched. As I handed +it to the jeweller, I kissed it by stealth, and wet it with my tears. +He seemed affected himself, and felt convinced that the diamond was +honestly mine by the grief I testified in disposing of it. The thirty +louis he gave me for it fell from my hands as I reckoned them, as if +the gold had been the price of a sacrilege. Oh, how many diamonds, +twenty times superior in price, would I not often have given since, to +repurchase that same diamond, unique in my eyes!--a fragment of my +mother's heart, one of the last teardrops from her eye, the light of +her love!... On what hand does it sparkle now?... + + + + +LXXXV. + + +Spring had returned. The Tuileries cast each morning upon their idlers +the green shade of their leaves, and showered down the fragrant snow of +their horse-chestnut trees. From the bridges I could perceive beyond +the stony horizon of Chaillot and Passy the long line of verdant and +undulating hills of Fleury, Meudon, and St. Cloud. These hills seemed +to rise as cool and solitary islands in the midst of a chalky ocean. +They raised in my heart feelings of remorse and poignant reproach, and +were images and remembrances which awaked the craving after Nature that +had lain dormant for six months. The broken rays of moonlight floated +at night upon the tepid waters of the river, and the dreamy orb opened, +as far as the Seine could be traced, luminous and fantastic vistas +where the eye lost itself in landscapes of shade and vapor. +Involuntarily the soul followed the eye. The front of the shops, the +balconies, and the windows of the quays were covered with vases of +flowers which shed forth their perfume even on the passers-by. At the +corners of the streets, or the ends of the bridges, the flower-girls, +seated behind screens of flowering plants, waved branches of lilac, as +if to embalm the town. In Julie's room the hearth was converted into a +mossy grotto; the consoles and tables had each their vases of +primroses, violets, lilies of the valley, and roses. Poor flowers, +exiles from the fields! Thus swallows who have heedlessly flown into a +room bruise their own wings against the walls, while announcing to the +poor inhabitants of dismal garrets the approach of April and its sunny +days. The perfume of the flowers penetrated to our hearts, and our +thoughts were brought back, under the impression of their fragrance and +the images it evoked, to that Nature in the midst of which we had been +so isolated and so happy. We had forgotten her while the days were +dark, the sky gloomy, and the horizon bounded. Shut up in a small room +where we were all in all to each other, we never thought that there was +another sky, another sun, another nature beyond our own. These fine, +sunny days, glimpses of which we caught from among the roofs of an +immense city, recalled them to our minds. They agitated and saddened +us; they inspired us with an invincible desire to contemplate and to +enjoy them in the forests and solitudes which surround Paris. It seemed +to us while indulging these irresistible longings, and projecting +distant walks together in the woods of Fontainebleau, Vincennes, St. +Germain, and Versailles, that we should be again, as it were, amid the +woods and waters of our Alpine valleys, that at least we should see the +same sun and the same shade and recognize the harmonious sighing of the +same winds in the branches. + +Spring, which was restoring to the sky its transparency and to the +plants their sap, seemed also to give new youth and pulsation to +Julie's heart. The tint upon her cheeks was brighter; her eyes more +blue, their rays more penetrating. There was more emotion in the tone +of her voice; the languor of her frame was relieved by more frequent +sighs; there was more elasticity in her walk, more youthfulness in her +attitudes; even in the stillness of her chamber, a pleasant though +feverish agitation produced a petulant movement of her feet, and sent +the words more hurriedly to her lips. In the evening Julie would undraw +the curtains, and frequently lean forth from her window to take in the +freshness of the water, the rays of the moon, and the breath of the +fragrant breeze which swept along the valley of Meudon, and was wafted +even into the apartments on the quay. + +"Oh, let us give," said I, "a joyous holiday to our hearts amid all our +happiness! Of all God's creatures for whom he reanimates his earth and +his heavens, let not us, the most feeling and the most grateful, be the +only beings for whom they shall have been reanimated in vain! Let us +together dive into that air, that light, that verdure; amid those +sprouting branches, in that flood of life and vegetation, which is even +now inundating the whole earth! Let us go, let us see if naught in the +works of his creation has grown old by the weight of an added day; if +naught in that enthusiasm, which sang and groaned, loved and lamented +within us, on the mountains and on the waters of Savoy, has been +lowered by one ripple or one note!" "Yes, let us go," said she. "We +shall neither feel more, nor love better, nor bless otherwise; but we +shall have made another sky and another spot of earth witness the +happiness of two poor mortals. That temple of our love which was in our +loved mountains only will then be wherever I shall have wandered and +breathed with you." The old man encouraged these excursions to the fine +forests around Paris. He hoped, and the doctors led him to expect, that +the air laden with life, the influence of the sun, which strengthens +all things, with moderate exercise in the open fields, might invigorate +the too sensitive delicacy of Julie's nerves and give elasticity to her +heart. Every sunny day, during the five weeks of early spring, I came +at noon to fetch her. We entered a close carriage in order to avoid the +inquisitive looks and light observations of any of her acquaintances +whom we might chance to meet, or the remarks that even strangers might +have made on seeing so young and lovely a woman alone with a man of my +age; for we were not sufficiently alike to pass for brother and sister. +We left the carriage on the skirts of the woods, at the foot of the +hills, or at the gates of the parks in the environs of Paris, and +sought out at Fleury, at Meudon, at Sèvres, at Satory, and at Vincennes +the longest and most solitary paths, carpeted with turf and flowers, +untrodden by horses' hoofs, except perhaps on the day of a royal hunt. +We never met any one, save a few children or poor women busy with their +knives digging up endive. Occasionally a startled doe would rustle +through the leaves, and springing across the path, after a glance at +us, dive into the thicket. We walked in silence, sometimes preceding +each other, sometimes arm in arm, or we talked of the future, of the +delight it would be to possess one out of all these untenanted acres, +with a keeper's lodge under one of the old oaks. We dreamed aloud. We +picked violets and the wild periwinkle, which we interchanged as +hieroglyphics and preserved in the smooth leaves of the hellebore. To +each of these flowery letters we linked a meaning, a remembrance, a +look, a sigh, a prayer. We kept them to reperuse when parted; they were +destined to recall each precious moment of these blissful hours. + +We often sat in the shade by the side of the path, and opened a book +which we tried to read; but we could never turn the first leaf, and +ever preferred reading in ourselves the inexhaustible pages of our own +feelings. I went to fetch milk and brown bread from some neighboring +farm; we ate, seated on the grass, throwing the remains of the cup to +the ants, and the crumbs of bread to the birds. At sunset we returned +to the tumultuous ocean of Paris, the noise and crowd of which jarred +upon our hearts. I left Julie, excited by the enjoyment of the day, at +her own door, and then went back, overcome with happiness, to my +solitary room, the walls of which I would strike and bid them crumble, +that I might be restored to the light, Nature, and love which they shut +out. I dined without relish, read without understanding; I lighted my +lamp and waited, reckoning the hours as they passed, till the evening +was far enough advanced for me to venture again to her door, and renew +the enjoyment of the morning. + + + + +LXXXVI. + + +The next day we recommenced our wanderings. Ah, in those forests, how +many trees, marked by my knife, bear on their roots or bark a sign by +which I shall ever recognize them! They are those whose shade she +enjoyed; those beneath which she breathed new life, basked in the +warmth of the sun, or inhaled the sweet vernal scent of the trees. The +stranger sees, but dreams not that they are to another the pillars of a +temple, whose worshipper is on earth though its divinity is in heaven. +I still visit them once or twice each spring, on the anniversaries of +these walks; and when the axe lays one low, it seems to me as though it +falls upon myself, and carries away a portion of my heart. + + + + +LXXXVII. + + +On one of the highest and most generally solitary summits of the park +of St. Cloud, where the rounded hill descends in two separate slopes, +one towards the valley of Sèvres, and the other towards the hollow +where the Château stands, there is an open space where three long +avenues meet. From thence the eye discovers from afar the rare +passengers that intrude on the solitude of the place. The hill, like a +promontory, overlooks the plain of Issy, the course of the Seine, and +the road to Versailles; its summit, clothed and overshaded by the +forest which fills up the triangular intervals between the three +avenues, appears like the rounded basin of a lake of which grass and +foliage are the billows. If one looks towards Sèvres, one sees only a +long and sloping meadow stretching down towards the river like a +verdant and undulating cascade, which, after a rapid descent, loses +itself at the bottom of the valley in dark masses of thickets stocked +with deer. Beyond these thickets, on the other side of the Seine, the +blue slated roofs of Meudon, and the waving tops of the majestic trees +of its park, stand out in the blue summer sky. We often came to sit on +this hill, which has all the elevation of a promontory, the silence and +shade of a valley, and the solitude of a desert. The lungs play freer +there; the ear is less disturbed by the sounds of earth; the soul can +better wing its flight beyond the horizon of this life. + +We went there one morning early in May, at the hour when the forest is +peopled only by the deer, which bound and skip in its lonely paths. Now +and then a gamekeeper crosses the extremity of one of the avenues, like +a black speck on the horizon. We sat down under the seventh tree of the +semi-circle round the open space, looking towards the meadows of +Sèvres. Centuries have been required to frame that sturdy oak, and to +bend its gnarled branches; its roots, swelling with sap to nourish and +support its trunk, have burst through the sod at its feet, and form a +moss-covered seat, of which the oak is the back, and its lower leaves +the natural canopy. The morning was as serene and transparent as the +waters of the sea at sunrise under the green headlands of the islands +of the Archipelago. The ardent rays of an almost summer sun fell from +the clear sky on the wooded hill, and then rose again from out of the +thickets in exhalations warm as the waves which expire in the shade +after having imbibed the sunshine. There was no other sound than that +of the fall of some dry leaves of the preceding winter, which, as the +sap rose and throbbed, fell at the foot of the tree, to make room for +the new and tender foliage. Whole flights of birds dashed against the +branches round their nests, and there was one vague, universal hum of +insects that revelled in the light, and rose and fell, like a living +dust, at the least undulation of the flowering grass. + + + + +LXXXVIII. + + +There was so much sympathy between our youth and the youthful year and +day; such entire harmony between the light, the heat, the splendor, the +silence, the gentle sounds, the pensive delights of Nature and our own +sensations; we felt so delightfully mingled with the surrounding air +and sky, life and repose; we were so completely all to each other in +this solitude,--that our exuberant but satisfied thoughts and +sensations sufficed us. We did not even seek for words to express them; +but were as the full vase, whose very plenitude renders its contents +motionless. Our hearts could hold no more; but they were capacious +enough to contain all, and nothing sought to escape from them. Our +breathing was scarcely audible. + +I know not how long we remained thus seated at the foot of the oak, +mute and motionless beside one another, our faces buried in our hands, +our feet in sunshine on the grass, our heads in shade; but when I +raised my eyes the shadows had retreated before us on the grass, beyond +the folds of Julie's dress. I looked at her, she raised her face as if +by the same impulse which had made me raise mine; and gazing at me +without saying a word, she burst into tears. "Why do you weep?" I asked +with anxious emotion, but in a low tone for fear of disturbing or +diverting the course of her silent thoughts. "From happiness," she +answered. Her lips smiled, while big tears rolled down her cheeks in +shining drops, like the dew of spring. "Yes, from happiness," she +resumed. "This day, this hour, this sky, this spot, this peace, this +silence, this solitude with you, this complete assimilation of our two +souls, which no longer require to converse to comprehend each other, +which breathe in the same aspiration is too much,--too much for mortal +nature that excess of joy may kill, as excess of grief, and which, when +it can draw no cry from the heart, grieves that it cannot sigh, and +mourns that it cannot praise sufficiently." + +She stopped for an instant; her cheeks were flushed. I trembled lest +death should seize her in her joy; but her voice soon reassured me. +"Raphael! Raphael!" she exclaimed in a solemn tone, which surprised me, +as if she had been announcing some good tidings, long and anxiously +expected,--"Raphael, there is a God!" "How has he been revealed to you +to-day more clearly than any other day?" I asked. "By love," she +answered, raising slowly to heaven the orbs of her bright, glistening +eyes; "yes, by love, whose torrents have flowed in my heart just now +with a murmuring, gushing fulness that I had never felt before with the +same force, nor yet the same repose. No, I no longer doubt," she +continued in a tone where certitude mingled with joy; "the spring +whence such felicity is poured upon the soul cannot be here below, nor +can it lose itself in this earth after having once gushed forth! There +is a God; there is an eternal love, of which ours is but a drop. We +will together mingle it one day with the divine ocean whence we drew +it! That ocean is God! I see it; feel it; understand it in this instant +by my happiness! Raphael, it is no longer you I love; it is no longer I +you love,--it is God we henceforth adore in one another; you in me, and +I in you, both, in these tears of bliss which reveal to us, and yet +conceal, the immortal fountain of our hearts! Away," she added, with a +still more ardent tone and look,--"away with all the vain names by +which we have hitherto called our attraction towards each other. I know +but one to express it; it is the one which has just been revealed to me +in your eyes: God! God! God!" she exclaimed once more, as though she +had wished to teach her lips a new language. "God is in you; God is in +me for you! God is us; and henceforward the feelings which oppressed us +will no longer be love, but a holy and rapturous adoration! Raphael, do +you understand me? You will no longer be Raphael, you will be my +worship of God!" + +We rose in a transport of enthusiasm; we embraced the tree, and blessed +it for the inspiration which had descended from its boughs; we gave it +a name, and called it the tree of adoration. + +We then slowly descended the hill of St. Cloud to return to the noise +and turmoil of Paris; but she returned with new-found faith and the +knowledge of God in her heart, and I with the joy of knowing that she +now possessed a bright and inward source of consolation, hope and +peace. + + + + +LXXXIX. + + +In a very short time, the expense I was obliged to incur but which I +concealed from Julie, in order to accompany her on our daily country +excursions, had so far exhausted the proceeds of the sale of my +mother's last diamond that I had only ten louis left. When each night I +reckoned over the limited number of happy days represented by that +small sum, I was seized with fits of despondency, but I should have +blushed to confess my excessive poverty to her I loved. Though far from +wealthy she would have wished to share with me all she possessed, and +that would have degraded our intercourse in my eyes. I valued my love +more than life, but I would rather have died than have debased my love. + +The sedentary life I had led all the winter in my dismal room, my +intense application to study all day, the tension of my thoughts +towards one object, the want of sleep at night, but, above all, the +moral exhaustion of a heart too weak to bear a continuous ecstasy of +ten months, had undermined my constitution. A consuming flame, which +burned unfed, shone through my wan and pale face. Julie implored me to +leave Paris, to try the effect of my native air, and to preserve my +life, even at the expense of her happiness. She sent me her doctor, to +add the authority of science to the entreaties of her love. Her doctor, +or rather her friend, Dr. Alain, was one of those men who carry a +blessing with them, and whose countenance seems to reflect Heaven by +the bedside of the sick poor they visit. He was himself suffering from +a complaint of the heart brought on by a pure and mysterious passion +for one of the loveliest women in Paris. + +He was active, humane, pious, and tolerant, and possessing a small +fortune sufficient for his simple wants and charities, practiced only +for a few friends or for the poor. His physic was friendship or charity +in action. The medical career is so admirable when divested of all +cupidity, it brings so much into play the better feelings of our +nature, that it often ends by being a virtue after commencing as a +profession, With Dr. Alain it was more than a virtue; it had become a +passion for relieving the woes of the body and of the soul, which are +often so closely linked! Where Alain brought life, he also took God +with him, and made even Death resplendent with serenity and +immortality. + +I saw him, too, die, some years later, the death of the righteous and +the just. He had learned how to die at many deathbeds; and when +stretched motionless on his, during six months of agony, his eye +counted on a little clock, which stood at the foot of his bed, the +hours that divided him from eternity. He pressed upon his bosom, with +his crossed hands, a crucifix, emblem of patience, and his look never +quitted that celestial friend, as though he had conversed at the foot +of the cross. When he suffered beyond his powers of endurance he +requested that the crucifix might be approached to his lips, and his +prayers were then mingled with thanksgiving. At last he slept, +supported to the end by his hopes and the memory of the good he had +done. He had given the poor and the sick an accumulated treasure of +good works to carry before him into the presence of the God of the +merciful. He died on a wretched bed in a garret, leaving no +inheritance. The poor bore his body to the grave, and, in their turn, +gave him the burial of charity in the common earth. O blessed soul, +that in memory, I still see smiling on that kind countenance, lighted +with inward joy, can so much virtue have been to thee but a deception? +Hast thou vanished like the reflection of my lamp upon thy portrait, +when my hand withdraws the light that allowed me to contemplate it? No, +no; God is faithful, and cannot have deceived thee, who wouldst not +have deceived a child! + + + + +XC. + + +The doctor took a deep and friendly interest in me. It seemed as if +Julie had imparted to him a portion of her tenderness. He understood my +complaint, though he concealed his knowledge from me, and was too +deeply read in human passion not to recognize its symptoms in us. He +ordered me to depart under penalty of death, and induced Julie herself +to enforce his commands by communicating to her his fears. He invoked +the tender authority of love to tear me from love. He tried to mitigate +the pang of separation by the allurement of hope, and ordered me to +breathe some time my native air, and then return to the baths of Savoy, +where Julie should join me, by his advice, in the beginning of autumn. +His principles did not seem startled by the symptoms of mutual passion +which he had not failed to perceive between us. Our pure flame was in +his eyes a fault, but it was also its own purification. His countenance +only expressed the indulgence of man, and the compassion of God. He +thus endeavored to save us by loosening the tie which threatened to +draw us to one common death. I at length consented to be the first to +depart, and Julie swore to follow me soon. Alas, her tears, her pale +face, and trembling lips said more than any vows! It was settled that I +should leave Paris as soon as my strength permitted me to travel. The +eighteenth of May was the day fixed for my departure. + +When once we had resolved on our approaching separation we began to +reckon the minutes as hours, the hours as days. We would have amassed +and concentrated years into the short space of a second, to wrest from +time the happiness from which we were to be debarred during so many +months. These days were days of rapture, but they had their anguish and +their agony; the approaching morrow cast its gloom upon each interview, +each look and word, each pressure of the hand. Joys such as these are +not joys, but disguised pangs of love and tortures of the heart. We +devoted the whole day preceding my departure to our adieus. We wished +not to say our last farewell within the shadow of walls, which weigh +down the soul, or beneath the eyes of the indifferent, which throw back +the feelings on the heart, but beneath the sky, in the open air, in the +light, in solitude, and in silence. Nature sympathizes with all the +emotions of man; she understands, and, as an invisible confidant, seems +to share them. She garners them in heaven, and renders them divine. + + + + +XCI. + + +In the morning, a carriage, which I had hired for the day, conveyed us +to Monceau. The windows were down, the blinds closed. We traversed the +almost deserted streets of the more elevated parts of Paris, leading to +the high walls of the park. This garden was at that time almost +exclusively reserved for their own use by the princes to whom it +belonged, and could only be entered on presenting tickets of admission, +which were very parsimoniously distributed to a few foreigners or +travellers desirous of admiring its wonderful vegetation. I had +obtained some of these tickets, through one of my mother's early +friends who was attached to the prince's household. I had selected this +solitude because I knew its owners were absent, that no admissions were +then given, and that the very gardeners would be away enjoying the +leisure of a holiday. + +This magnificent desert, studded with groves of trees, interspersed +with meadows, and traversed by limpid streams, is also embellished by +monuments, columns, and ivy-covered ruins, imitations of time in which +art has copied the old age of stone. That day we knew it would be +visited only by the bright sunbeams, the insects, the birds, and us. +Alas, never were its leaves and its green turf to be watered by so many +tears! + +The warm and glowing sky, the light and shade dancing fitfully on the +grass driven by the summer breeze, as the shadow of the wings of one +bird pursuing another; the clear note of the nightingale ringing +through the sonorous air; the distinctness with which the lilies of the +valley, the daisies, and the blue periwinkles which carpeted the +sloping banks of the clear waters, were reflected in their polished +mirror,--all this gladness of Nature saddened us, and this luminous +serenity of a spring morning only seemed to contrast the more with the +dark cloud which weighed upon our hearts. In vain we sought to deceive +ourselves even for a moment by expatiating on the beauty of the +landscape, the brilliant tints of the flowers, the perfumes of the air, +the depth of the shade, the stillness of those solitudes in which the +happiness of a whole world of love might have been sheltered. We +carelessly threw on them an unheeding glance, which quickly fell to the +ground; our voices, when answering with their vain formulas of joy and +admiration, betrayed the hollowness of words and the absence of our +thoughts, which were elsewhere. It was in vain we sought a +resting-place to pass the long hours of this our last interview; +seating ourselves alternately beneath the most fragrant lilacs, or the +green branches of the loftiest cedars, on the fluted fragments of +columns half-buried in ivy, or by the side of those waters that lay +most still within their grassy banks, for scarcely had we chosen one of +these sites when some vague disquietude drove us away in search of +another. Here it was the shade, and there the light; further on, the +importunate murmur of the cascade, or the persisting song of the +nightingale over our heads,--that turned into bitterness all this +exuberance of joy, and made it odious in our eyes. When our heart is +sad within us, all creation jars upon our feelings, and it could but +have added fresh pangs to the grief of two lovers, had the garden of +Eden been the scene of their parting. + +At last, worn out by wandering for two hours, and finding no shelter +against ourselves, we sat down near a small bridge across a stream; a +little apart, as if the very sound of each other's breathing had been +painful, or as if we had wished instinctively to conceal from one +another the suppressed sobs which were bursting from our hearts. We +long watched abstractedly the green and slimy water as it was slowly +swept beneath the narrow arch of the bridge. It carried along on its +surface sometimes the white petals of the lily, and sometimes an empty +and downy bird's nest which the wind had blown from a tree. We soon saw +the body of a poor little swallow, turned on its back, and with +extended wings, floating down. It had, doubtless, been drowned when +skimming over the water before its wings were strong enough to bear it +on the surface; it reminded us of the swallow which had one day fallen +at our feet, from the top of the dismantled tower of the old castle on +the borders of the lake, and which had saddened us as an omen. The dead +bird passed slowly before us, and the unruffled sheet of water rolled +and engulfed it in the deep darkness below the bridge. When the bird +had disappeared, we saw another swallow pass and repass a hundred times +beneath the bridge, uttering its little sharp cry of distress, and +dashing against the wooden beams of the arch. Involuntarily we looked +at each other; I cannot tell what our eyes expressed as they met, but +the despair of the poor bird found us with our eyelids so overcharged, +and our hearts so nearly bursting, that we both turned away at the same +moment, and throwing ourselves with our faces to the ground, sobbed +aloud. One tear called forth another tear, one thought another thought, +one foreboding another foreboding, each sob another sob. We often +strove to speak, but the broken voice of the one only made that of the +other still more inaudible, and we ended by yielding to nature, and +pouring forth in silence, during hours marked by the shadows alone, all +the tears that rose from their hidden springs. They fell on the grass, +sank into the earth, were dried by the winds of heaven, absorbed by the +rays of the sun,--God took them into account! No drop of anguish +remained in our hearts when we rose face to face though almost hidden +from each other by the tearful veil of our eyes. Such was our +farewell,--a funereal image, an ocean of tears, an eternal silence. +Thus we parted without another look, lest that look should strike us to +the earth. Never will the mark of my footsteps be again traced in that +desert scene of our love and of our parting. + + + + +XCII. + + +The next morning I was rolling along, sad and silent, wrapped in my +cloak, among the barren hills on the road that leads from Paris towards +the south. I was stowed away in a public coach, with five or six +unknown fellow-travellers who were gayly discussing the quality of the +wine and the price of the last dinner at the inn. I never once opened +my lips during that long, sad journey. + +My mother received me with that serene and resigned tenderness which +might have made even misfortune happy in her company. Her diamond had +been spent in vain to advance my fortunes; and I returned home, with +shattered health and broken hopes, consumed with melancholy that she +attributed to my unoccupied youth and restless imagination, but of +which I carefully concealed the real cause, for fear of adding an +irremediable sorrow to all her other griefs. + +I spent the summer alone in an almost deserted valley enclosed between +barren hills, where my father had a little farm, which was worked by a +poor family. My mother had sent me there, and commended me to the care +of these good people, that I might have a change of air and the benefit +of milk diet. My whole occupation was to reckon the days which must +intervene before I could join Julie in our dear Alpine valley. Her +letters, received and replied to daily, confirmed me in my security, +and dispelled, by their sportive gayety and caressing words, the gloomy +and sinister forebodings our last farewell had raised in my heart. Now +and then some desponding word or expression of sadness which seemed to +have unguardedly escaped, or been involuntarily overlooked among her +vistas of happiness, as a dry leaf in the midst of the foliage of +spring, struck me as being in contradiction with the calm and blooming +health she spoke of. But I attributed these discrepancies to some +vision of memory or to her impatience at the slowness of time which +might have flitted like shadows across the paper as she wrote. + +The bracing mountain air, sleep at night, and exercise by day, the +healthy employment of working in the garden and in the farm, soon +restored me to health; but, above all, the approach of autumn, and the +certainty of soon seeing her once more who by her looks would give me +life. The only remaining trace of my sufferings was a gentle and +pensive melancholy which overspread my countenance; it was as the mist +of a summer's morning. My silence seemed to conceal some mystery, and +my instinctive love of solitude made the superstitious peasants of the +mountains believe that I conversed with the Genii of the woods. + +All ambition had been extinguished in me by my love. I had made up my +mind for life to my hopeless poverty and obscurity, and my mother's +serene and pious resignation had entered into my heart with her holy +and gentle words. I only indulged the dream of working during ten or +eleven months of the year manually, or with my pen to earn sufficiently +thereby to spend a month or two with Julie every year. I thought that +if the old man's protection were one day to fail, I would devote myself +to her service as a slave, like Rousseau to Madame de Warens; we would +take shelter in some secluded cottage of these mountains, or in the +well-known chalets of our Savoy; I would live for her, as she would +live for me, without looking back with regret to the empty world, and +asking of love no other reward than the happiness of loving. + + + + +XCIII. + + +I was, however, often recalled harshly from my dreamy region by the +cruel penury of my home, which was partly attributable to the +unavailing expense incurred for me. Crops had failed during successive +years, and reverses of fortune had changed the humble mediocrity of my +parents into comparative want. When on Sundays I went to see my mother, +she spoke of her distress, and before me shed tears that she concealed +from my father and my sisters. I, too, was reduced to extreme +destitution. I lived at the little farm on brown bread, milk, and eggs, +and had in secret sold successively in the neighboring town all the +books and clothes I had brought from Paris, to procure wherewithal to +pay the postage of Julie's letters, for which I would have sold my +life's blood. + +The month of September was drawing to a close. Julie wrote me that her +anxiety on the score of her husband's daily declining health (O pious +fraud of love to conceal her own sufferings and lighten my cares) would +detain her longer in Paris than she had expected. She pressed me to +start at once, and await her in Savoy, where she would join me without +fail towards the end of October. The letter was one of tender advice, +as that of a sister to a beloved brother. She implored and ordered me, +with the sovereign authority of love, to beware of that insidious +disease which lurks beneath the flowery surface of youth, and often +withers and consumes us at the very moment we think that we have +overcome its power. Enclosed, she sent a consultation and a +prescription from good Dr. Alain, ordering me in the most imperative +terms, and with most alarming threats, to remain during a long season +at the baths of Aix. I showed this prescription to my mother, to +account for my departure, and she was so disquieted by it that she +added her entreaties to the injunctions of the doctor to induce me to +go. Alas! I had in vain applied to a few friends as poor as myself, and +to some pitiless usurers, to obtain the trifling sum of twelve louis +required for my journey. My father had been absent six months, and my +mother would on no account have aggravated his distress and anxiety by +asking him for money. In borrowing he would have exposed his poverty, +by which he was already too much humbled. I had made up my mind to +start with two or three louis only in my purse, in the hope of +borrowing the remainder from my friend L----, at Chambéry; when, a few +days before my departure, my mother, during a sleepless night, had +found in her heart a resource that a mother's heart could alone have +furnished. + + + + +XCIV. + + +In one of the comers of the little garden that surrounded our house +there stood a cluster of trees, comprising a few evergreen oaks, two or +three lime trees, and seven or eight twisted elms, which were the +remains of a wood, planted centuries ago, and had, doubtless, been +respected as the _local Genius_ when the hill had been cleared, the +house built, and the garden first walled in. These lofty trees in +summer time served as a family saloon, in the open air. Their buds in +spring, their tints in autumn, and their dry leaves in winter, which +were succeeded by the hoar frost hanging from their branches like white +hair, had marked the seasons for us. Their shadows, rolled back upon +their very feet, or stretched out to the grassy border around, told us +the hours better than a dial. Beneath their foliage our mother had +nursed us, lulled us to rest, and taught us our first steps. My father +sat there, book in hand, when he returned from shooting; his shining +gun suspended from a branch, his panting dogs crouching beneath the +bench. I, too, had spent there the fairest hours of my boyhood, with +Homer or Telemachus lying open on the grass before me. I loved to lie +flat on the warm turf, my elbows resting on the volume, of which a +passing fly or lizard would sometimes hide the lines. The nightingales +among the branches sang for our home, though we could never find their +nest, or even see the branch from which their song burst forth. This +grove was the pride, the recollection, the love of all. The idea of +converting it into a small bag of money, which would leave no memory in +the heart, no perpetual joy and shade, would have occurred to no one, +save to a mother, trembling with anxiety for the life of an only son. +My mother conceived the thought; and, with the readiness and firmness +of resolve that distinguished her, called for the woodcutters as soon +as morning came,--fearing lest she should feel remorse, or my +entreaties stop her, if she first consulted me. She saw the axe laid to +their roots, and wept, and turned away her head not to hear their moan, +or witness the fall of these leafy protectors of her youth on the +echoing and desolate soil of the garden. + + + + +XCV. + + +When I returned to M---- on the following Sunday, I looked round from +the top of the mountain for the clump of trees that stood out so +pleasantly on the hillside, screening from the sun a portion of the +gray wall of the house; and it seemed as a dream when in their wonted +place I perceived only heaps of hewn-down trunks whose barked and +bleeding branches strewed the earth around. A sawing-trestle stood +there like an instrument of torture, on which the saw with its grinding +teeth divided the trees. I hurried on with extended arms towards the +outer wall, and trembled as I opened the little garden door.... Alas! +the evergreen oak, one lime-tree, and the oldest elm alone were +standing, and the bench had been drawn in beneath their shade. "They +are sufficient," said my mother, as she advanced towards me, and, to +conceal her tears, threw herself into my arms; "the shade of one tree +is worth that of a whole forest. Besides, to me what shade can equal +yours? Do not be angry. I wrote to your father that the trees were +dying from the top, and that they were hurtful to the kitchen-garden. +Speak no more of them!"... Then leading me into the house, she opened +her desk and drew forth a bag half-filled with money. "Take this," she +said, "and go. The trees will have been amply paid me if you return +well and happy." + +I blushed, and with a stifled sob took the bag. There were six hundred +francs in it, which I resolved to bring back untouched to my poor +mother. + +I started on foot, like a sportsman, with leathern gaiters on my feet, +and my gun on my shoulder, and took from the bag only one hundred +francs, which I added to the little I had remaining from the proceeds +of my last sale. I could not bear to spend the price of the trees, and +therefore concealed the remainder of the money at the farm, that on my +return I might restore it to her who had so heroically torn it from her +heart for me. I ate and slept at the humblest inns in the villages +through which I passed, and was taken for a poor Swiss student +returning from the University of Strasbourg. I was never charged but +the strict value of the bread I ate, of the candle I burned, and of the +pallet on which I slept. I had brought but one book with me, which I +read at evening on the bench before the inn door; it was Werther, in +German; and the unknown characters confirmed my hosts in the idea that +I was a foreign traveller. + +I thus wandered through the long and picturesque gorges of Bugey, and +crossed the Rhône at the foot of the rock of Pierre-Châtel. The +narrowed river eternally rushes past the base of this rock, with a +current wearing as the grindstone and cutting as the knife, as if to +undermine and overthrow the state-prison, whose gloomy shadow saddens +its waters. I slowly ascended the Mont du Chat by the paths of the +chamois-hunters; arrived at its summit, I perceived stretched out +before me in the distance the valleys of Aix, Chambéry, and Annecy; and +at my feet the lake, dappled with rosy tints by the floating rays of +the setting sun. One single image filled for me the immensity of this +horizon; it rose from the chalets where we had met; from the doctor's +garden, the pointed slate roof of whose house I could recognize above +the smoke of the town; from the fig-trees of the little castle of +Bon-Port at the bottom of the opposite creek; from the chestnut-trees +on the hill of Tresserves; from the woods of St. Innocent; from the +island of Châtillon; from the boats which were returning to their +moorings, from all this earth, from all this sky, from all these waves. +I fell on my knees before this horizon filled with one image. I spread +out my arms and folded them again, as if I could have embraced her +spirit by clasping the air which, had swept over these scenes of our +happiness, over all the traces of her footsteps. + +I then sat down behind a rock which screened me even from the sight of +the goatherds, as they passed along the path. There I remained, sunk in +contemplation, and reveling in remembrances, till the sun was almost +dipping behind the snow-clad tops of Nivolex. I did not wish to cross +the lake, or enter the town by daylight, as the homeliness of my dress, +the scantiness of my purse, and the frugality of life to which I was +constrained, in order to live some months near Julie, would have seemed +strange to the inmates of the old doctor's house. They formed too great +a contrast with my elegance in dress and habits of life during the +preceding season. I should have made those blush whom I had accosted in +the streets, in the garb of one who had not even the means of locating +himself in a decent hotel in this abode of luxury. I had, therefore, +resolved to slip by night into the humble suburb, bordering a rivulet +which runs through the orchards below the town. + +I knew there a poor young serving girl, called Fanchette, who had +married a boatman the year before. She had reserved some beds in the +garret of her cottage, that she might board and lodge one or two poor +invalids at fifteen sous a day. I had engaged one of these rooms, and a +place at the humble board of the good creature. My friend L----, to +whom I had written naming the day of my arrival on the borders of the +lake, had some days previously written to take my lodgings, and warn +Fanchette of my arrival, binding her to secrecy. I had also begged him +to receive, under cover to himself, at Chambéry, any letters that might +be addressed to me from Paris. He was to forward them to me by one of +the drivers of the light carts that run continually between the two +towns. I intended, during my stay at Aix, to remain in the daytime +concealed in my little cottage room, or in the surrounding orchards. I +would only, I thought, go out in the evening; I would go up to the +doctor's house by the skirts of the town; I would enter the garden by +the gate which opened on the country, and pass in delightful +intercourse the solitary evening hours. I would bear with pleasure want +and humiliation, which would be compensated a thousand fold by those +hours of love. I thought thus to conciliate the respect I owed to my +poor mother for the sacrifices she had made, with my devotion to the +idol I came to worship. + + + + + +XCVI. + + +From a pious superstition of love, I had calculated my steps during my +long pedestrian journey, so as to arrive at the Abbey of Haute-Combe, +on the other side of the Mont du Chat, upon the anniversary of the day +that the miracle of our meeting, and the revelation of our two hearts, +had taken place in the fisherman's inn on the borders of the lake. It +seemed to me that days, like all other mortal things, had their +destiny, and that in the conjunction of the same sun, the same month, +the same date, and in the same spot, I might find something of her I +loved. It would be an augury, at least, of our speedy and lasting +reunion. + + + + +XCVII. + + +From the brink of the almost perpendicular sides of the Mont du Chat +that descend to the lake, I could see on my left the old ruins and the +lengthening shadows of the Abbey, which darkened a vast extent of the +waters. In a few minutes I reached the spot. The sun was sinking behind +the Alps, and the long twilight of autumn enveloped the mountains, the +waves, and the shore. I did not stop at the ruins, and passed rapidly +through the orchard where we had sat at the foot of the haystack, near +the bee-hives. The hives and the haystack were still there; but there +was no glow of fire lighting the windows of the little inn, no smoke +ascending from the roof, no nets hung out to dry on the palisades of +the garden. + +I knocked, no one answered; I shook the wooden latch, and the door +opened of itself. I entered the little hall with the smoky walls; the +hearth was swept clean, even to the very ashes, and the table and +furniture had been removed. The flagstones of the pavement were strewed +with straws and feathers that had fallen from five or six empty +swallows' nests which hung from the blackened beams of the ceiling. I +went up the wooden ladder which was fastened to the wall by an iron +hook, and served to ascend into the upper room where Julie had awaked +from her swoon, with her hand on my forehead. I entered as one enters a +sanctuary or a sepulchre, and looked around; the wooden beds, the +presses, the stools were all gone. The sound of my footsteps frightened +a nocturnal bird of prey, that heavily flapped its wings, and after +beating against the walls, flew out with a shrill cry through the open +window into the orchard. I could scarcely distinguish the place where I +had knelt during that terrible and yet enchanting night, at the bedside +of the sleeper or of the dead. I kissed the floor, and sat for a long +while on the edge of the window, trying to evoke again in my memory the +room, the furniture, the bed, the lamp, the hours, which had kept their +place within me though all had been changed during a single year of +absence. There was no one in the lonely neighborhood of the cottage who +could furnish any information as to the cause of its being thus +deserted. I conjectured from the heaps of fagots which remained in the +yard, from the hens and pigeons which returned of themselves to roost +in the room, or on the roof, and from the stacks of hay and straw which +stood untouched in the orchard, that the family had gone to gather in a +late harvest in the high chalets of the mountain, and had not yet come +down again. + +The solitude of which I had thus taken possession was sad; not so sad, +however, as the presence of the indifferent in a spot that was sacred +in my eyes. I must have controlled before them my looks, my voice, my +gestures, and the impressions that assailed me. I resolved to pass the +night there, and brought up a bundle of fresh straw, which I spread on +the floor, on the same spot where Julie had slept her death-like sleep. +Resting my gun against the wall, I then took out of my knapsack some +bread and a goat cheese that I had bought at Seyssel to support me on +the road, and went out to eat my supper on a green platform above the +ruins of the Abbey, by the side of the spring which flows and stops +alternately, like the intermittent breathing of the mountain. + + + + +XCVIII. + + +From the edge of that platform, and from the dismantled terraces of the +old monastery, at evening time, the eye embraces the most enchanting +horizon that ever delighted an anchorite, a contemplator, or a lover. +Behind is the green and humid shade of the mountain, with the murmur of +its source, and the rustling of its foliage; and on one side the ruins, +the broken walls, with their garlands of ivy, and the dark arcades +replete with night and mystery; the lake, with its expiring waves +slowly rolling, one by one, their fringes of spray at the foot of the +rocks, as if to spread its couch and lull its sleep on the fine sands. +On the opposite shore, the blue mountains clothed with their +transparent tints; and on the right, as far as the eye can reach, the +luminous track that the sun leaves in crimson light on the sky and on +the lake, when it withdraws its splendor. I revelled in this light and +shade, in these clouds and waves. I incorporated myself with lovely +Nature, and thought thus to incorporate in me the image of her who was +all nature for me. I inwardly said I saw her there. I was at that +distance from her boat when I saw it struggling against the storm. +There is the shore where she landed; there is the orchard where we +opened our hearts to each other in the sunshine, and where she returned +to life to give me two lives. There in the distance are the tops of the +poplars of the great avenue which unrolls its length like a green +serpent issuing from the waves. There are the chalets, mossy turf, and +woods of chestnut-tree, the sheltered paths upon the highest +mountain-planes where I picked flowers, strawberries, and chestnuts to +fill her lap. There she said this; there I confessed some secret of my +soul; and on that spot we remained a whole evening silent, our hearts +flooded with enthusiasm, our lips without language. Upon these waves +she wished to die; upon this shore she promised me to live. Beneath +yonder group of walnut-trees, then leafless, she bid me farewell, and +promised me that I should see her again before the new leaves should +have turned yellow. They are about to change; but love is faithful as +Nature. In a few days I shall see her once more.... I see her already; +for am I not here awaiting her? and thus to wait, is it not as though I +saw her again? + + + + +XCIX. + + +Then I pictured to myself the instant when, from the shady orchards +that slope down from the mountains behind the old doctor's house, I +should see at last that window of the closed room where she was +expected,--to see it open for the first time, and a woman's face, +half-hidden in its long dark hair, appear between the open curtains, +dreaming of that brother whom her eye seeks in the glorious landscape, +where she, too, sees but him.... And at that image my heart beat so +impetuously in my breast that I was forced to drive away the fancy for +an instant, in order to breathe. + +In the meantime night had almost entirely descended from the mountain +to the lake. One could only see the waters through a mist that glazed +and darkened their wide expanse. Amid the profound and universal +silence which precedes darkness, the regular sound of oars which seemed +to approach land smote upon my ear. I soon saw a little speck moving on +the waters, and increasing gradually in size until it slid into the +little cove near the fisherman's house, throwing on either side a light +fringe of spray. Thinking that it might be the fisherman returning from +the Savoy coast to his deserted dwelling, I hurried down from the ruins +to the shore, to be there when the boat came in. I waited on the sand +till the fisherman landed. + + + + +C. + + +As soon as he saw me, he cried out, "Are you, sir, the young Frenchman +who is expected at Fanchette's, and to whom I have been ordered to give +these papers?" So saying, he jumped out of the boat, and, wading +knee-deep through the water, handed me a thick letter. I felt by its +weight that it was an enclosure containing many others. I hastily tore +open the first cover, and read indistinctly in the dim moonlight a note +from my friend L---, dated that same morning from Chambéry. L---- +informed me that my lodging was taken and prepared for me at +Fanchette's poor house in the Faubourg, and that no one had yet arrived +from Paris at our old friend the doctor's. He added, that, having +learned from myself that I should be that same evening at Haute-Combe +to spend the night and a part of the following day, he had taken +advantage of the departure of a trusty boatman who was to pass beneath +the Abbey walls, to send me a packet of letters, which had arrived two +days before, and that I was doubtless eagerly expecting. He purposed +joining me at Haute-Combe the following day, that we might cross the +lake together, and enter the town under the shadow of night. + + + + +CI. + + +While my eye glanced over the note, I held the packet with a trembling +hand. It seemed to me heavy as my fate. I hastened to pay and dismiss +the boatman, who was impatient to be off so as to leave the lake and +enter the waters of the Rhone before dark. I only asked him for a piece +of candle, to enable me to read my letters; he gave it, and I soon +heard the strokes of his oars, as they once more cut through the deep +sheet of water. I returned overjoyed to the upper room, to see once +more the sacred characters of that angel in the very place where she +had first revealed herself to me in all her splendor and in all her +love. I felt sure that one of those letters must inform me that she had +left Paris and would soon be with me. I sat down on the bundle of straw +which I had brought up for my bed, and lighted my candle by means of +the priming of my gun. I hastily tore open the cover, and it was only +then that I perceived that the seal of the first envelope was black, +and that the address was in the handwriting of Dr. Alain. I shuddered +as I saw mourning where I had expected to find joy. The other letters +slid from my hands onto my knees. I dared not read on for fear of +finding--alas! what neither hand, nor eye, nor blood, nor tears, nor +earth, nor Heaven could evermore efface--Death!... Though my very soul +trembled so as to make the syllables dance before my eyes, I read at +last these words: + +"Prove yourself a man! Submit yourself to the will of Him whose ways +are not our ways; expect her no longer! ... Look for her no more on +earth, she has returned to heaven, calling on your name.... Thursday at +sunrise.... She told me all before she died; ... she directed me to +send you her last thoughts, which she wrote down till the very instant +her hand grew cold while tracing your name.... Love her in Christ, who +loved us unto death, and live for your mother! + +"ALAIN." + + + + +CII. + + +I fell back senseless on the straw, and only recovered consciousness +when the cold air of midnight chilled my brow. The light was still +burning, and the doctor's letter was grasped convulsively in my hand. +The untouched packet had fallen on the floor; I opened it with my lips, +as if I feared to profane the heavenly message by breaking the seal +with my fingers. Several long letters from Julie fell out; they were +arranged according to dates. + +In the-first there was: "Raphael! O my Raphael! O my brother! forgive +your sister for having so long deceived you.... I never hoped to see +you once more in Savoy.... I knew that my days were numbered, and that +I could not live on till that day of happiness.... When I said at the +gate of the garden of Monceau, 'We shall meet again,' Raphael, you did +not understand me, but God did. I meant to say, 'We shall meet again, +once more to love, to bless eternally, in heaven!' I begged Dr. Alain +to aid me in deceiving you, and sending you away from Paris. It was my +wish, it was my duty, to spare you such a sight of anguish as would +have torn your heart asunder, and would have been too much for your +strength.... And then again--forgive me, I must tell you all--I did not +wish you to see me die.... I wish to spread a veil between us some time +before death.... Cold death!--I feel it, see it, and shudder at myself +in death! Raphael, I sought to leave an image of beauty in your eyes, +that you might ever contemplate and adore! But now, you must not go, +... to await me in Savoy! Yet a little while--two or three days +perhaps--and you need seek me nowhere! But I shall be there, Raphael! I +shall be everywhere, and always where you are." + +This letter had been moistened with tears, which had unglazed and +stiffened the paper. + +In the other, dated the following night, I read:-- + +"Midnight. + +"Raphael, your prayers have drawn down a blessing from Heaven upon me. +I thought yesterday of the tree of adoration at St. Cloud, at whose +foot I saw God through your soul. But there is another holier +tree,--the Cross!... I have embraced it ... I will cling to it +evermore.... Oh, how that divine blood cleanses! how those divine tears +purify!... Yesterday I sent for a holy priest of whom Alain had spoken. +He is an old man who knows everything; who forgives all! I have +discovered my soul to him, and he has shed on it the love and light of +God.... How good is God! how indulgent, how full of loving kindness! +How little we know of him! He suffers me to love you, to have you for +my brother, to be your sister here below, if I live; your guardian +angel above, if I die! O Raphael, let us love him, since he permits +that we should love each other as we do!"... + +At the end of the letter there was a little cross traced, and, as it +were, the impress of a kiss all around. + + + + +CIII. + + +There was another letter written in a totally altered hand, where the +characters crossed and mingled on the page, as if traced in the dark, +which said:-- + +"Raphael, I must say one word more--to-morrow, perhaps, I could not. +When I am dead, oh, do not die! I shall watch over you from above; I +shall be good and powerful, as the loving God, to whom I shall be +united, is good and powerful. After me, you must love again.... God +will send you another sister, who will be, moreover, the pious helpmate +of your life.... I will myself ask it of him.... Fear not to grieve my +soul, Raphael!... I--could I be jealous in heaven of your happiness?... +I feel better now I have said this. Alain will forward these lines to +you, and a lock of my hair.... I am going to sleep."... + +One letter more, almost illegible, contained only these interrupted +lines: "Raphael! Raphael! where are you? I have had strength to get out +of bed.... I have told the nurse that I wished to be left alone to +rest. I have dragged myself along to the table, where I am writing by +the light of the lamp.... But I can see no more; ...my eyes swim in +darkness; ... black spots flit across the paper; ... Raphael! I can no +longer write.... Oh, one word more!"... + +Then, in large letters, like those of a child trying to write for the +first time, there are two words which occupy a whole line, filling the +bottom of the page. "Farewell, Raphael!" + + + + +CIV. + + +All the letters fell from my hands. I was sobbing without tears, when I +perceived another little note in the handwriting of the old man, her +husband; it had slid between the pages as I was unsealing the first +envelope. + +There were only these words: "She breathed her last, her hand in mine, +a few hours after writing you her last farewell. I have lost my +daughter.... Be my son for the few days I have yet to live. She is +there upon her bed, as if asleep, with an expression on her features of +one whose last thought smiled at seeing something beyond our world. She +never was so lovely; and as I look on her I require to believe in +immortality.... I loved you through her; for her sake love me!" + + + + +CV. + + +How strange, and yet how fortunate for human nature, is the +impossibility of immediately believing in the complete disappearance of +a much-loved being! Though the evidence of her death lay scattered +around, I could not believe that I was forever separated from her. Her +remembrance, her image, her features, the sound of her voice, the +peculiar turn of her expressions, the charm of her countenance, were so +present, and, as it were, so incorporate in me, that she seemed more +than ever with me; she appeared to envelop me, to converse with me, to +call me by my name, as though I could have risen to meet her, and to +see her once more. God leaves a space between the certainty of our loss +and the consciousness of reality, like the interval which our senses +measure between the instant when the eye sees the axe fall on the tree +and the sound in our ear of the same blow long after. This distance +deadens grief by cheating it. For some time after losing those we love, +we have not completely lost them; we live on by the prolongation of +their life in us. We feel as when we have been long watching the +setting sun,--though its orb has sunk below the horizon, its rays are +not set in our eyes; they still shine on our soul. It is only +gradually, and as our impressions become more distinct as they cool, +that we are made to know the complete and heartfelt separation,--that +we can say, she is dead in me! For death is not death, but oblivion. + +This phenomenon of grief was shown in its full force in me during that +night. God suffered me not to drain at one draught my cup of woe, lest +it should overwhelm my very soul. He vouchsafed to me the delusive +belief, which. I long retained, of her inward presence. In me, before +me, and around me, I saw that heavenly being who had been sent to me +for one single year, to direct my thoughts and looks forevermore +towards the heaven to which she returned in her spring of youth and +love. + +When the poor boatman's candle was burned out, I took up my letters and +hid them in my bosom. I kissed a thousand times the floor of the room +which had been the cradle, and was now the tomb, of our love. I +unconsciously took my gun, and rushed wildly through the mountain +passes. The night was dark; the wind had risen. The waves of the lake, +dashing against the rocks, lashed them with such hollow blows, and sent +forth sounds so like to human voices, that many times I stopped +breathless, and turned round, as if I had been called by name. Yes, I +was called; and I was not mistaken; but the voice came from heaven!... + + + + +CVI. + + +You know, my friend, who found me the next morning, wandering among +precipices, in the mists of the Rhône; who raised me up, supported me, +and brought me back to my poor mother's arms.... + +Now fifteen years have rolled by without sweeping away in their course +a single memory of that one great year of my youth. According to +Julie's promise to send me from above one who should comfort me, God +has exchanged his gift for another; he has not withdrawn it. I often +return to visit the valley of Chambéry and the lake of Aix, with her +who has made my hopes patient and tranquil as felicity. When I sit on +the heights of the hill of Tresserves, at the foot of those +chestnut-trees that have felt her heart beat against their bark; when I +look at the lake, the mountains, snows and meadows, trees and jagged +rocks, swimming in a warm atmosphere which seems to bathe all nature in +one perfumed liquid; when I hear the sighing breeze, the humming +insects, and the quivering leaves, the waves of the lake breaking on +the shore, with the gentle rustling sound of silken folds unrolling one +by one; when I see the shadow of her whom God has made my companion +until my life's end cast beside mine upon the grass or sand; when I +feel within me a plenitude that desires nothing before death, and +peace, untroubled by a single sigh; methinks I see the blessed soul of +her who appeared to me in this spot rise, dazzling and immortal, from +every point of the horizon, fill of herself alone the sky and waters, +shine in that splendor, float in that ether, bum in all those flames. I +see it penetrate those waves, breathe in their murmurs; pray, and laud, +and sing in that one hymn of life that streams with these cascades from +glacier unto lake, and shed upon the valley and on those who keep her +memory a blessing that the eye seems to see, the ear to hear, the heart +to feel!... + +Here ended Raphael's first manuscript. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Raphael, by Alphonse de Lamartine + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAPHAEL *** + +***** This file should be named 13019-8.txt or 13019-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/0/1/13019/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Keith M. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/13019-8.zip b/old/13019-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8d565e3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13019-8.zip diff --git a/old/13019.txt b/old/13019.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a1331bc --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13019.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6598 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Raphael, by Alphonse de Lamartine + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Raphael + Pages Of The Book Of Life At Twenty + +Author: Alphonse de Lamartine + +Release Date: July 25, 2004 [EBook #13019] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAPHAEL *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Keith M. Eckrich, and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreaders Team + + + + + +[Illustration: ALPHONSE DE LAMARATINE.] + + + + +RAPHAEL, or + +PAGES OF THE BOOK OF LIFE AT TWENTY + +BY ALPHONSE DE LAMARTINE + + +_ILLUSTRATED BY SANDOZ_ + + +SOCIETE DES BEAUX-ARTS +PARIS, LONDON AND NEW YORK + +1905 + + +Comedie d'Amour Series + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +It is all very well for Lamartine to explain, in his original prologue, +that the touching, fascinating and pathetic story of Raphael was the +experience of another man. It is well known that these feeling pages +are but transcripts of an episode of his own heart-history. That the +tale is one of almost feminine sentimentality is due, in some measure, +perhaps, to the fact that, during his earliest and most impressionable +years, Lamartine was educated by his mother and was greatly influenced +by her ardent and poetical character. Who shall say how much depends on +one's environment during these tender years of childhood, and how often +has it not been proved that "the child is father to the man?" The +marvel of it is that a man so exquisitely sensitive, of such +extraordinary delicacy of feeling, should have been able, in later +years, to stand the storm and stress of political life and the grave +responsibilities of statesmanship. + +Although not written in metrical form, Raphael is really a poem--a +prose poem. Never upon canvas of painter were spread more delicate +tints, hues, colors, shadings, blendings and suggestions, than in these +pages. Not only do we find ourselves, in the descriptions of scenery, +near to Nature's heart, but, in the story itself, near to the heart of +man. Aix in Savoy was, in Lamartine's time, a fashionable resort for +valitudinarians and invalids. Among the patrons of the place was Madame +Charles, whose memory Lamartine has immortalized as "Julie" in Raphael +and as "Elvire" in the beautiful lines of the _Meditations_. In drawing +the character "Julie," idealism and sentimentalism have full play. The +whole story is romantic in the extreme. The influence of Byron is +clearly to be seen. The beautiful hills of Savoy, tinged with the +melancholy tints of autumn, were a fit setting for the meeting with the +fair invalid. Besides physical invalidism, the pair were soul-sick and +heart-sick. Such were their points of sympathy, an affinity was the +most natural thing in the world. "Ships that pass in the night" were +these two creatures, stranded by illness, "out of the world's way, +hidden apart." At the feast of pure, unselfish, romantic love that +followed, there was always a death's-head present, always the sinking +fear, always the mute resignation on one side or the other. Death and +love have been a combination that poets have used since the world +began. And so, as the early snow whitened the pines on the hilltops of +Savoy, this pathetic and ultra-sentimental love-affair between the +banished _Parisienne_ and the poet had its beginning. That it could +have but one ending the reader knows from the start. But with what +breathless interest do we follow this history of love! We seem to be +admitted to the confidences of beings of another sphere, to celestial +heights of affection. We hear the heart-beats and see the glances of +the languid, languorous eyes. The universe itself seems to stand still +for these two lovers. Their heads are among the stars, their hearts in +heaven. Their love is as pure as a sonnet of Keats, as ineffable as +shimmering starlight. Day by day we trace its current, we cannot say +growth because it sprang into life full-grown. Although Julie said that +"her life was not worth a tear," she caused torrents of tears to flow. +From the first, their love seemed centuries old, so entirely was it a +part of their being. Day after day their souls were revealed to each +other, their hearts became more united. Every pure chord of psychic +affection was struck, even almost to the distracting discord of suicide +together, that they might never part, and from which they were saved as +by a miracle. In such unsullied love, there is an element of worship. +It is the sublimation of passion, freed from sensuous dross, a +spiritual efflorescence, a white flame of the soul. + +The parting of the lover, the pursuit, their meeting again in Julie's +home in Paris, the flickering candle of her waning life, burning down +to its socket, the touching interchange of letters, the gathering +shadows of the end, all these have stirred the hearts of entire +Christendom, appealing to all ages and conditions. Raphael is a lovers' +rosary.--C. C. STARKWEATHER. + + + + +LAMARTINE AND HIS WRITINGS + + +Lamartine was born at Macon, October 21, 1790. His father was +imprisoned during the Terror, narrowly escaping the guillotine. Taught +at first by his mother, young Lamartine was sent to a boarding school +at Lyons, and later to the college of the Peres de la Foi at Belley. +Here he remained till 1809, and after studying at home for two years, +he traveled in Italy, taking notes and receiving impressions which were +to prove so valuable to him in his literary work. He saw service in the +Royal Body-Guard upon the restoration of the Bourbons. When Napoleon +came back from Elba, Lamartine went to Switzerland and then to Aix in +Savoy. At Aix he fell in love with Madame Charles, who died in 1817. +This love-episode, ending so pathetically, became the subject of much +of his verse, and forms the basis of the famous Raphael, a book of the +purest, most delicate and elevated sentiment. Resigning from the guard, +he enjoyed two more "wander-years," revisiting Switzerland, Savoy and +Italy. + +A collection of his poems, including the famous _Lac_, was published +under the title _Meditations Poetiques_ in 1820, and leaped into +immediate popularity both with the sternest critics and the public at +large. His literary success led to political preferment, and he entered +the diplomatic service as Secretary to the French Embassy at Naples in +1823. That same year he was married at Geneva to an English lady, +Marianne Birch. His second volume of poetry now appeared, the +_Nouvelles Meditations_. He was transferred to Florence in 1824. In +1825 he published his continuation of Byron, _Le Dernier Chant du +Pelerinage de Childe Harold_. A passage in this poem gave offense to an +Italian officer, Colonel Pepe, with whom Lamartine fought a duel. The +_Harmonies Politiques et Religieuses_ appeared in 1829. He became +active in politics, and was sent on a special mission to Prince Leopold +of Saxe-Coburg, afterward King of the Belgians. He was elected during +this year to the French Academy, at his second candidacy. + +After the publication of his pamphlet _La Politique Rationelle_ he was +defeated in a contest for membership in the National Assembly. He +started, in 1832, upon a long journey in the East with his wife and +daughter, Julia. The latter died at Beyrout in 1833. A description of +his travels was the theme of his _Voyage en Orient_, appearing in 1835. +In his absence he had been elected from Bergues to the Assembly, in +which, on his return, he made his first speech early in 1834. As a +political orator his power was second to none. + +His poems now became more philosophical. _Jocelyn_ was printed in 1836, +_La Chute d'Un Ange_ in 1838, and _Les Recueillements_ in 1839. A +political as well as a literary sensation was produced by his _Histoire +des Girondins_, 1847, which, in fact, was inspired by his newly +acquired belief in democracy. He became Minister of Foreign Affairs of +the Provisional Government in 1848, was elected to the new Assembly +from ten different departments, and became a member of the Executive +Committee, which made him one of the most conspicuous statesmen of +Europe. He was unsuited, however, for executive authority, and soon +disappeared from power, being supplanted in popular favor by Cavaignac. +His rise and fall in the field of statesmanship were equally sudden, +the same year including both. + +Lamartine now began to pay off his debts by literary labor. _Les +Confidences_, containing _Graziella_ and the ever popular _Raphael_ +came from the press in 1849, followed by the _Nouvelles Confidences_ in +1851. Among his other works are: _Genievre_, 1849; _Le Tailleur de +Pierres de Saint Point_, 1851; _Fior d'Aliza_, 1866; and the histories, +_Histoire de la Restauration_, 1851-1853; _Histoire de la Turquie_, +1854; _Histoire de la Russie_, 1855. His wife died in 1863. He had not +been able to save much money, and, in 1867, when he was an old man, the +Government of France came to his assistance with a pension of 25,000 +francs. He died, March 1, 1869, having profoundly influenced the +literature of his time. His works have been translated into many +languages. A beautiful monument to his memory was erected by public +subscription near Macon, in 1874. + +C.C.S. + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS: + + ALPHONSE DE LAMARTINE + + RAPHAEL'S DEVOTION + + THE LOVERS' COMPACT + + RAPHAEL SEES JULIE IN PARIS + + + + +PROLOGUE + + +The real name of the friend who wrote these pages was not Raphael. We +often called him so in sport, because in his boyhood he much resembled +a youthful portrait of Raphael, which may be seen in the Barberini +gallery at Rome, at the Pitti palace in Florence, and at the Museum of +the Louvre. We had given him the name, too, because the distinctive +feature of this youth's character was his lively sense of the beautiful +in Nature and Art,--a sense so keen, that his mind was, so to speak, +merely the shadowing forth of the ideal or material beauty scattered +through-out the works of God and man. This feeling was the result of +his exquisite and almost morbid sensibility,--morbid, at least, until +time had somewhat blunted it. We would sometimes, in allusion to those +who, from their ardent longings to revisit their country, are called +home-sick, say that he was heaven-sick, and he would smile, and say +that we were right. + +This love of the beautiful made him unhappy; in another situation it +might have rendered him illustrious. Had he held a pencil he would have +painted the Virgin of Foligno; as a sculptor, he would have chiselled +the Psyche of Canova; had he known the language in which sounds are +written, he would have noted the aerial lament of the sea breeze +sighing among the fibres of Italian pines, or the breathing of a +sleeping girl who dreams of one she will not name; had he been a poet, +he would have written the stanzas of Tasso's "Erminia," the moonlight +talk of Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet," or Byron's portrait of +Haidee. + +He loved the good as well as the beautiful, but he loved not virtue for +its holiness, he loved it for its beauty. He would have been aspiring +in imagination, although he was not ambitious by character. Had he +lived in those ancient republics where men attained their full +development through liberty, as the free, unfettered body develops +itself in pure air and open sunshine, he would have aspired to every +summit like Caesar, he would have spoken as Demosthenes, and would have +died as Cato. But his inglorious and obscure destiny confined him, +against his will, in speculative inaction,--he had wings to spread, and +no surrounding air to bear them up. He died young, straining his gaze +into the future, and ardently surveying the space over which he was +never to travel. + +Every one knows the youthful portrait of Raphael to which I have +alluded. It represents a youth of sixteen, whose face is somewhat paled +by the rays of a Roman sun, but on whose cheek still blooms the soft +down of childhood. A glancing ray of light seems to play on the velvet +of the cheek. He leans his elbow on a table; the arm is bent upwards to +support the head, which rests on the palm of the hand, and the +admirably modelled fingers are lightly imprinted on the cheek and chin; +the delicate mouth is thoughtful and melancholy; the nose is slender at +its rise, and slightly tinged with blue, as though the azure veins +shone through the fair transparency of the skin; the eyes are of that +dark heavenly hue which the Apennines wear at the approach of dawn, and +they gaze earnestly forward, but are slightly raised to heaven, as +though they ever looked higher than Nature,--a liquid lustre +illuminates their inmost depths, like rays dissolved in dew or tears. +On the scarcely arched brow, beneath the delicate skin, we trace the +muscles, those responsive chords of the instrument of thought; the +temples seem to throb with reflection; the ear appears to listen; the +dark hair, unskilfully cut by a sister or some young companion of the +studio, casts a shadow upon the hand and cheek; and a small cap of +black velvet, placed on the crown of the head, shades the brow. One +cannot pass before this portrait without musing sadly, one knows not +why. It represents the revery of youthful genius pausing on the +threshold of its destiny. What will be the fate of that soul standing +at the portal of life? + +Now, in idea, add six years to the age of that dreaming boy; suppose +the features bolder, the complexion more bronzed; place a few furrows +on the brow, slightly dim the look, sadden the lips, give height to the +figure, and throw out the muscles in bolder relief; let the Italian +costume of the days of Leo X. be exchanged for the sombre and plain +uniform of a youth bred in the simplicity of rural life, who seeks no +elegance in dress,--and, if the pensive and languid attitude be +retained, you will have the striking likeness of our "Raphael" at the +age of twenty-two. + +He was of a poor, though ancient family, from the mountainous province +of Forez, and his father, whose sole dignity was that of honor (worth +all others), had, like the nobles of Spain, exchanged the sword for the +plough. His mother, still young and handsome, seemed his sister, so +much did they resemble each other. She had been bred amid the luxurious +elegancies of a capital; and as the balmy essence of the rose perfumes +the crystal vase of the seraglio in which it has once been contained, +so she, too, had preserved that fragrant atmosphere of manners and +language which never evaporates entirely. + +In her secluded mountains, with the loved husband of her choice, and +with her children, in whom she had complacently centred all the pride +of her maternal heart, she had regretted nothing. She closed the fair +book of youth at these three words,--"God, husband, children." Raphael +especially was her best beloved. She would have purchased for him a +kingly destiny, but, alas, she had only her heart with which to raise +him up, for their slender fortune, and their dreams of prosperity, +would ever and anon crumble to their very foundation beneath the hand +of fate. + +Two holy men, driven by persecution to the mountains, had, soon after +the Reign of Terror, taken refuge in her house. They had been +persecuted as members of a mystical religious sect which dimly +predicted a renovation of the age. They loved Raphael, who was then a +mere child, and, obscurely prophesying his fate, pointed out his star +in the heavens, and told his mother to watch over that son with all her +heart. She reproached herself for being too credulous, for she was very +pious; but still she believed them. In such matters, a mother is so +easy of belief! Her credulity supported her under many trials, but +spurred her to efforts beyond her means to educate Raphael, and +ultimately deceived her. + +I had known Raphael since he was twelve years old, and next to his +mother he loved me best on earth. We had met since the conclusion of +our studies, first in Paris, then at Rome, whither he had been taken by +one of his father's relatives, for the purpose of copying manuscripts +in the Vatican Library. There he had acquired the impassioned language +and the genius of Italy. He spoke Italian better than his mother +tongue. At evening he would sit beneath the pines of the Villa +Pamphili, and gazing on the setting sun and on the white fragments +scattered on the plain, like the bleached bones of departed Rome, would +pour forth extemporaneous stanzas that made us weep; but he never +wrote. "Raphael," would I sometimes say, "why do you not write?" + +"Ah!" would he answer, "does the wind write what it sighs in this +harmonious canopy of leaves? Does the sea write the wail of its shores? +Nought that has been written is truly, really beautiful, and the heart +of man never discloses its best and most divine portion. It is +impossible! The instrument is of flesh, and the note is of fire! +Between what is felt and what is expressed," would he add, mournfully, +"there is the same distance as between the soul and the twenty-six +letters of an alphabet! Immensity of distance! Think you a flute of +reeds can give an idea of the harmony of the spheres?" + +I left him to return to Paris. He was at that time striving, through +his mother's interest, to obtain some situation in which he might by +active employment remove from his soul its heavy weight, and lighten +the oppressive burden of his fate. Men of his own age sought him, and +women looked graciously on him as he passed them by. But he never went +into society, and of all women he loved his mother only. + +We suddenly lost sight of him for three years; though we afterwards +learned that he had been seen in Switzerland, Germany, and Savoy; and +that in winter he passed many hours of his nights on a bridge, or on +one of the quays of Paris. He had all the appearance of extreme +destitution. It was only many years afterwards that we learned more. We +constantly thought of him, though absent, for he was one of those who +could defy the forgetfulness of friends. + +Chance reunited us once more after an interval of twelve years. It so +happened that I had inherited a small estate in his province, and when +I went there to dispose of it, I inquired after Raphael. I was told +that he had lost father, mother, and wife in the space of a few years; +that after these pangs of the heart, he had had to bear the blows of +fortune, and that of all the domain of his fathers, nothing now +remained to him but the old dismantled tower on the edge of the ravine, +the garden, orchard, and meadow, with a few acres of unproductive land. +These he ploughed himself, with two miserable cows; and was only +distinguished from his peasant neighbors by the book which he carried +to the field, and which he would sometimes hold in one hand, while the +other directed the plough. For many weeks, however, he had not been +seen to leave his wretched abode. It was supposed that he had started +on one of those long journeys which with him lasted years. "It would be +a pity," it was said, "for every one in the neighborhood loves him; +though poor, he does as much good as any rich man. Many a warm piece of +cloth has been made from the wool of his sheep; at night he teaches the +little children of the surrounding hamlets how to read and write, or +draw. He warms them at his hearth, and shares his bread with them, +though God knows he has not much to spare when crops are short, as this +year." + +It was thus all spoke of Raphael. I wished to visit at least the abode +of my friend, and was directed to the foot of the hillock, on the +summit of which stood the blackened tower, with its surrounding sheds +and stables, amid a group of hazel-trees. A trunk of a tree, which had +been thrown across, enabled me to pass over the almost dried-up torrent +of the ravine, and I climbed the steep path, the loose stones giving +way under my feet. Two cows and three sheep were grazing on the barren +sides of the hillock, and were tended by an old half-blind servant, who +was telling his beads seated on an ancient escutcheon of stone, which +had fallen from the arch of the doorway. + +He told me that Raphael was not gone, but had been ill for the last two +months; that it was plain he would never leave the tower but for the +churchyard; and the old man pointed with his meagre hand to the burying +ground on the opposite hill. I asked if I could see Raphael. "Oh, yes," +said the old man; "go up the steps, and draw the string of the latch of +the great hall-door on the left. You will find him stretched on his +bed, as gentle as an angel, and," added he drawing the back of his hand +across his eyes, "as simple as a child!" I mounted the steep and +worn-out steps which wound round the outside of the tower, and ended at +a small platform covered by a tiled roof, the broken tiles of which +strewed the stone steps. I lifted the latch of the door on my left, and +entered. Never shall I forget the sight. The chamber was vast, +occupying all the space between the four walls of the tower; it was +lighted from two windows, with stone cross-bars, and the dusty and +broken lozenge-shaped panes of glass were set in lead. The huge beams +of the ceiling were blackened by smoke, the floor was paved with +bricks, and in a high chimney with roughly fluted wooden jambs, an iron +pot filled with potatoes was suspended over a fire, where a long branch +was burning, or rather smoking. The only articles of furniture were two +high-backed arm-chairs, covered with a plain-colored stuff, of which it +was impossible to guess the original color; a large table, half covered +with an unbleached linen table-cloth in which a loaf was wrapped, the +other half being strewed pell-mell with papers and books; and, lastly, +a rickety, worm-eaten four-post bedstead, with its blue serge curtains +looped back to admit the rays of the sun, and the air from the open +window. + +A man who was still young, but attenuated by consumption and want, was +seated on the edge of the bed, occupied in throwing crumbs to a whole +host of swallows which were wheeling their flight around him. + +The birds flew away at the noise of my approach, and perched on the +cornice of the hall, or on the tester of the bed. I recognized Raphael, +pale and thin as he was. His countenance, though no longer youthful, +had not lost its peculiar character; but a change had come over its +loveliness, and its beauty was now of the grave. Rembrandt would have +wished for no better model for his "Christ in the Garden of Olives." +His dark hair clustered thickly on his shoulders, and was thrown back +in disorder, as by the weary hand of the laborer when the sweat and +toil of the day is over. The long untrimmed beard grew with a natural +symmetry that disclosed the graceful curve of the lip, and the contour +of the cheek; there was still the noble outline of the nose, the fair +and delicate complexion, the pensive and now sunken eye. His shirt, +thrown open on the chest, displayed his muscular though attenuated +frame, which might yet have appeared majestic, had his weakness allowed +him to sit erect. + +He knew me at a glance, made one step forward with extended arms, and +fell back upon the bed. We first wept, and then talked together. He +related the past; how, when he had thought to cull the flowers or +fruits of life, his hopes had ever been marred by fortune or by +death,--the loss of his father, mother, wife, and child; his reverses +of fortune, and the compulsory sale of his ancestral domain; he told +how he retired to his ruined home, with no other companionship than +that of his mother's old herdsman, who served him without pay, for the +love he bore to his house; and lastly, spoke of the consuming languor +which would sweep him away with the autumnal leaves, and lay him in the +churchyard beside those he had loved so well. His intense imaginative +faculty might be seen strong even in death, and in idea he loved to +endow with a fanciful sympathy the turf and flowers which would blossom +on his grave. + +"Do you know what grieves me most?" said he, pointing to the fringe of +little birds which were perched round the top of his bed. "It is to +think that next spring these poor little ones, my latest friends, will +seek for me in vain in the tower. They will no longer find the broken +pane through which to fly in; and on the floor, the little flocks of +wool from my mattress with which to build their nests. But the old +nurse, to whom I bequeath my little all, will take care of them as long +as she lives," he resumed, as if to comfort himself with the idea; "and +after her--Well! God will; for He feedeth the young ravens." + +He seemed moved while speaking of these little creatures. It was easy +to see that he had long been weaned from the sympathy of men, and that +the whole tenderness of his soul, which had been repulsed by them, was +now transferred to dumb animals. "Will you spend any time among our +mountains?" he inquired. "Yes," I replied. "So much the better," he +added; "you will close my eyes, and take care that my grave is dug as +close as possible to those of my mother, wife, and child." + +He then begged me to draw towards him a large chest of carved wood, +which was concealed beneath a bag of Indian corn at one end of the +room. I placed the chest upon the bed, and from it he drew a quantity +of papers which he tore silently to pieces for half an hour, and then +bid his old nurse sweep them into the fire. There were verses in many +languages, and innumerable pages of fragments, separated by dates, like +memoranda. "Why should you burn all these?" I timidly suggested; "has +not man a moral as well as a material inheritance to bequeath to those +who come after him? You are perhaps destroying thoughts and feelings +which might have quickened a soul." + +"What matters it?" he said; "there are tears enough in this world, and +we need not deposit a few more in the heart of man. These," said he, +showing the verses, "are the cast-off, useless feathers of my soul; it +has moulted since then, and spread its bolder wings for eternity!" He +then continued to burn and destroy, while I looked out of the broken +window at the dreary landscape. + +At length he called me once more to the bedside. "Here," said he--"save +this one little manuscript, which I have not courage to burn. When I am +gone, my poor nurse would make bags for her seeds with it, and I would +not that the name which fills its pages should be profaned. Take, and +keep it till you hear that I am no more. After my death you may burn +it, or preserve it till your old age, to think of me sometimes as you +glance over it." + +I hid the roll of paper beneath my cloak, and took my leave, resolving +inwardly to return the next day to soothe the last moments of Raphael +by my care and friendly discourse. As I descended the steps, I saw +about twenty little children with their wooden shoes in their hands, +who had come to take the lessons which he gave them, even on his +death-bed. A little further on, I met the village priest, who had come +to spend the evening with him. I bowed respectfully, and as he noted my +swollen eyes, he returned my salute with an air of mournful sympathy. + +The next day I returned to the tower. Raphael had died during the +night, and the village bell was already tolling for his burial. Women +and children were standing at their doors, looking mournfully in the +direction of the tower, and in the little green field adjoining the +church, two men, with spades and mattock, were digging a grave at the +foot of a cross. + +I drew near to the door. A cloud of twittering swallows were fluttering +round the open windows, darting in and out, as though the spoiler had +robbed their nests. + +Since then I have read these pages, and now know why he loved to be +surrounded by these birds, and what memories they waked in him, even to +his dying day. + + + + +RAPHAEL + + + + +I. + + +There are places and climates, seasons and hours, with their outward +circumstance, so much in harmony with certain impressions of the heart, +that Nature and the soul of man appear to be parts of one vast whole; +and if we separate the stage from the drama, or the drama from the +stage, the whole scene fades, and the feeling vanishes. If we take from +Rene the cliffs of Brittany, or the wild savannahs from Atala, the +mists of Swabia from Werther, or the sunny waves and scorched-up hills +from Paul and Virginia, we can neither understand Chateaubriand, +Bernardin de St. Pierre, or Goethe. Places and events are closely +linked, for Nature is the same in the eye as in the heart of man. We +are earth's children, and life is the same in sap as in blood; all that +the earth, our mother, feels and expresses to the eye by her form and +aspect, in melancholy or in splendor, finds an echo within us. One +cannot thoroughly enter into certain feelings, save in the spot where +they first had birth. + + + + +II. + + +At the entrance of Savoy, that natural labyrinth of deep valleys, which +descend like so many torrents from the Simplon, St. Bernard, and Mount +Cenis, and direct their course towards France and Switzerland, one +wider valley separates at Chambery from the Alpine chain, and, striking +off towards Geneva and Annecy, displays its verdant bed, intersected +with lakes and rivers, between the Mont du Chat and the almost mural +mountains of Beauges. + +On the left, the Mont du Chat, like a gigantic rampart, runs in one +uninterrupted ridge for the space of two leagues, marking the horizon +with a dark and scarcely undulated line. A few jagged peaks of gray +rock at the eastern extremity alone break the almost geometrical +monotony of its appearance, and tell that it was the hand of God, and +not of man, that piled up these huge masses. Towards Chambery, the +mountain descends by gentle steps to the plain, and forms natural +terraces, clothed with walnut and chestnut trees, entwined with +clusters of the creeping vine. In the midst of this wild, luxuriant +vegetation, one sees here and there some country-house shining through +the trees, the tall spire of a humble village, or the old dark towers +and battlements of some castle of a bygone age. The plain was once a +vast lake, and has preserved the hollowed form, the indented shores, +and advanced promontories of its former aspect; but in lieu of the +spreading waters, there are the yellow waves of the bending corn, or +the undulating summit of the verdant poplars. Here and there, a piece +of rising ground, which was once an island, may be seen with its +clusters of thatched roofs, half hidden among the branches. Beyond this +dried-up basin, the Mont du Chat rises more abrupt and bold, its base +washed by the waters of a lake, as blue as the firmament above it. This +lake, which is not more than six leagues in length, varies in breadth +from one to three leagues, and is surrounded and hemmed in with bold, +steep rocks on the French side; on the Savoy side, on the contrary, it +winds unmolested into several creeks and small bays, bordered by +vine-covered hillocks and well-wooded slopes, and skirted by fig-trees +whose branches dip into its very waters. The lake then dwindles away +gradually to the foot of the rocks of Chatillon, which open to afford a +passage for the overflow of its waters into the Rhone. The burial-place +of the princes of the house of Savoy, the abbey of Haute-Combe, stands +on the northern side upon its foundation of granite, and projects the +vast shadow of its spacious cloisters on the waters of the lake. +Screened during the day from the rays of the sun by the high barrier of +the Mont du Chat, the edifice, from the obscurity which envelops it, +seems emblematical of the eternal night awaiting at its gates, the +princes who descend from a throne into its vaults. Towards evening, +however, a ray of the setting sun strikes and reverberates on its +walls, as a beacon to mark the haven of life at the close of day. A few +fishing boats, without sails, glide silently on the deep waters, +beneath the shade of the mountain, and from their dingy color can +scarcely be distinguished from its dark and rocky sides. Eagles, with +their dusky plumage, incessantly hover over the cliffs and boats, as if +to rob the nets of their prey, or make a sudden swoop at the birds +which follow in the wake of the boats. + + + + +III. + + +At no great distance, the little town of Aix, in Savoy, steaming with +its hot springs, and redolent of sulphur, is seated on the slope of a +hill covered with vineyards, orchards, and meadows. A long avenue of +poplars, the growth of a century, connects the lake with the town, and +reminds one of those far-stretching rows of cypresses which lead to +Turkish cemeteries. The meadows and fields, on either side of this +road, are intersected by the rocky beds of the often dried-up mountain +torrents and shaded by giant walnut-trees, upon whose boughs vines as +sturdy as those of the woods of America hang their clustering branches. +Here and there, a distant vista of the lake shows its surface, +alternately sparkling or lead-colored, as the passing cloud or the hour +of the day may make it. + +When I arrived at Aix, the crowd had already left it. The hotels and +public places, where strangers and idlers flock during the summer, were +then closed. All were gone, save a few infirm paupers, seated in the +sun, at the door of the lowest description of inns; and some invalids, +past all hope of recovery, who might be seen, during the hottest hours +of the day, dragging their feeble steps along, and treading the +withered leaves that had fallen from the poplars during the night. + + + + +IV. + + +The autumn was mild, but had set in early. The leaves which had been +blighted by the morning frost fell in roseate showers from the vines +and chestnut-trees. Until noon, the mist overspread the valley, like an +overflowing nocturnal inundation, covering all but the tops of the +highest poplars in the plain; the hillocks rose in view like islands, +and the peaks of mountains appeared as headlands in the midst of ocean; +but when the sun rose higher in the heavens, the mild southerly breeze +drove before it all these vapors of earth. The rushing of the +imprisoned winds in the gorges of the mountains, the murmur of the +waters, and the whispering trees, produced sounds melodious or +powerful, sonorous or melancholy, and seemed in a few minutes to run +through the whole range of earth's joys and sorrows its strength or its +melancholy. They stirred up one's very soul, then died away like the +voices of celestial spirits, that pass and disappear. Silence, such as +the ear has no preception of elsewhere, succeeded, and hushed all to +rest. The sky resumed its almost Italian serenity; the Alps stood out +once more against a cloudless sky; the drops from the dissolving mist +fell pattering on the dry leaves, or shone like brilliants on the +grass. These hours were quickly over; the pale blue shades of evening +glided swiftly on, veiling the horizon with their cold drapery as with +a shroud. It seemed the death of Nature, dying, as youth and beauty +die, with all its charms, and all its serenity. + +Scenes such as these exhibiting Nature in its languid beauty were too +much in accordance with my feelings. While they gave an additional +charm to my own languor, they increased it, and I voluntarily plunged +into an abyss of melancholy. But it was a melancholy so replete with +thoughts, impressions, and elevating desires, with so soft a twilight +of the soul, that I had no wish to shake it off. It was a malady the +very consciousness of which was an allurement, rather than a pain, and +in which Death appeared but as a voluptuous vanishing into space. I had +given myself up to the charm, and had determined to keep aloof from +society, which might have dissipated it, and in the midst of the world +to wrap myself in silence, solitude, and reserve. I used my isolation +of mind as a shroud to shut out the sight of men, so as to contemplate +God and Nature only. + +Passing by Chambery, I had seen my friend, Louis de ----; I had found +him in the same state of mind as myself, disgusted with the bitterness +of life, his genius, unappreciated, the body worn out by the mind, and +all his better feelings thrown back upon his heart. + +Louis had mentioned to me a quiet and secluded house, in the higher +part of the town of Aix, where invalids were admitted to board. The +establishment was conducted by a worthy old doctor (who had retired +from the profession), and communicated with the town by a narrow +pathway, which lay between the streams that issue from the hot springs. +The back of the house looked on a garden surrounded by trellis and vine +arbors; and beyond that there were paths where goats only were to be +seen, which led to the mountain through sloping meadows, and through +woods of chestnut and walnut-trees. Louis had promised to join me at +Aix, as soon as he should have settled some business, consequent on the +death of his mother, which detained him at Chambery. I looked forward +with pleasure to his arrival, for we understood each other, and the +same feeling of disenchantment was common to us both. Grief knits two +hearts in closer bonds than happiness ever can; and common sufferings +are far stronger links than common joys. Louis was, at that particular +time, the only person whose society was not distasteful to me, and yet +I awaited his arrival without eagerness or impatience. + + + + +V. + + +I was kindly and graciously received in the house of the old doctor, +and a room was allotted to me, which overlooked the garden and the +country beyond. Almost all the other rooms were untenanted, and the +long table d'hote was deserted. At meal times a few invalids from +Chambery and Turin, who had over-stayed the season, assembled with the +family. These boarders had arrived late, when most of the visitors of +the baths were already gone, in hopes of finding cheaper lodgings, and +a style of living in accordance with their poverty. There was no one +with whom I could converse or form a passing acquaintance. This the old +doctor and his wife soon saw, and threw the blame on the advanced +season, and on the bathers who had left too soon. They often spoke with +visible enthusiasm, and tender and compassionate respect, of a young +stranger, a lady, who had remained at the baths in a weak and languid +state of health, which it was feared would degenerate into slow +consumption. She had lived alone with her maid for the last three +months, in one of the most retired apartments of the house, taking her +meals in her own rooms; and was never seen except at her window that +looked towards the garden, or on the stairs when she returned from a +donkey ride in the mountains. + +I felt compassion for this young creature, a stranger like myself in a +foreign land, who must be ill, since she had come in quest of health, +and was doubtless sad, since she avoided the bustle and even the sight +of company; but I felt no desire to see her spite of the admiration her +grace and beauty had excited on those around me. My worn-out heart was +wearied with wretched and short-lived attachments, of which I blushed +to preserve the memories; not one of which I could recur to with pious +regret, save that of poor Antonina. I was penitent and ashamed of my +past follies and disorders; disgusted and satiated of vulgar +allurements; and being naturally of a timid and reserved disposition, +without that self-confidence which prompts some men to court +adventures, or to seek the familiarity of chance acquaintances, I +neither wished to see nor to be seen. Still less did I dream of love. +On the contrary, I rejoiced, in my stern and mistaken pride, to think +that I had forever stifled that weakness in my heart, and that I was +alone to feel, or to suffer in this nether world. As to happiness, I no +longer believed in it. + + + + +VI. + + +I passed my days in my room with no other company than some books which +my friend had sent me from Chambery. In the afternoon, I used to ramble +alone amid the wild mountains which, on the Italian side, form the +boundary of the valley of Aix; and returning home in the evening, +harassed and fatigued, would sit down to supper, and then retire to my +room and spend whole hours seated at my window. I gazed at the blue +firmament above, which, like the abyss attracting him who leans over +it, ever attracts the thoughts of men as though it had secrets to +reveal. Sleep found me still wandering on a sea of thoughts, and +seeking no shore. When morning came, I was awaked by the rays of the +sun and by the murmur of the hot springs; and I would plunge into my +bath, and after breakfast recommence the same rambles and the same +melancholy musings as the day before. Sometimes in the evening, when I +looked out of my window into the garden, I saw another lighted window +not far from my own and the face of a female, who, with one hand +throwing back the long black tresses from her brow, gazed like myself +on the mountains, the sky, and moonlit garden. I could only distinguish +the pale, pure, and almost transparent profile and the long, dark waves +of the hair, which was smoothed down at the temples. I used to see this +face standing out on the brilliant background of the window, which was +lighted from a lamp in the bedroom. At times, too, I had heard a +woman's voice saying a few words or giving some orders in the +apartment. The slightly foreign, though pure accent, the vibrations of +that soft, languid, and yet marvellously sonorous voice, of which I +heard the harmony without understanding the words had interested me. +Long after my window was closed that voice remained in my ear like the +prolonged sound of an echo. I had never heard any like it, even in +Italy; it sounded through the half-closed teeth like those small +metallic lyres that the children of the Islands of the Archipelago use +when they play on the seashore. It was more like a ringing sound than +like a voice; I had noticed it, little dreaming that that voice would +ring loud and deep forever through my life. The next day I thought no +more of it. + +One day, however, on returning home earlier, and entering by the little +garden-door near the arbor, I had a nearer view of the stranger, who +was seated on a bench under the southern wall, enjoying the warm rays +of the sun. She thought herself alone, for she had not heard the sound +of the door as I closed it behind me, and I could contemplate her +unobserved. We were within twenty paces of each other, and were only +separated by a vine, which was half-stripped of its leaves. The shade +of the vine-leaves and the rays of the sun played and chased each other +alternately over her face. She appeared larger than life, as she sat +like one of those marble statues enveloped in drapery, of which we +admire the beauty without distinguishing the form. The folds of her +dress were loose and flowing, and the drapery of a white shawl, folded +closely round her, showed only her slender and rather attenuated hands, +which were crossed on her lap. In one, she carelessly held one of those +red flowers which grow in the mountains beneath the snow, and are +called, I know not why, "poets' flowers." One end of her shawl was +thrown over her head like a hood, to protect her from the damp evening +air. She was bent languidly forward, her head inclined upon her left +shoulder; and the eyelids, with their long dark lashes, were closed +against the dazzling rays of the sun. Her complexion was pale, her +features motionless, and her countenance so expressive of profound and +silent meditation, that she resembled a statue of Death; but of that +Death which bears away the soul beyond the reach of human woes to the +regions of eternal light and love. The sound of my footsteps on the dry +leaves made her look up. Her large half-closed eyes were of that +peculiar tint resembling the color of lapis lazuli, streaked with +brown, and the drooping lid had that natural fringe of long dark +lashes, which Eastern women strive by art to imitate, in order to +impart a voluptuous wildness to their look and energy even to their +languor. The light of those eyes seemed to come from a distance which I +have never measured in any other mortal eye. It was as the rays of the +stars, which seem to seek us out, and to approach us as we gaze, and +yet have travelled millions of miles through the heavens. The high and +narrow forehead seemed as if compressed by intense thought, and joined +the nose by an almost straight and Grecian line. The lips were thin and +slightly depressed at the corners with an habitual expression of +sadness; the teeth of pearl, rather than of ivory, as is the case with +the daughters of the sea or islands. The face was oval, slightly +emaciated in the lower part and at the temples, and, on the whole she +seemed rather an embodying of thought than a human being. Besides this +general expression of revery there was a languid look of suffering and +passion, which made it impossible to gaze once on that face without +bearing its ineffaceable image stamped forever in the memory. In a +word, hers was a contagious sickness of the soul, veiled in a shape of +beauty the most majestic and attractive that the dreams of mortal man +ever embodied. + +I passed rapidly before her, bowing respectfully, and my deferential +air and downcast eyes seemed to ask forgiveness for having disturbed +her. A slight blush tinged her pale cheeks at my approach. I returned +to my room trembling and wondering that the evening air should thus +have chilled me. A few minutes later I saw her re-enter the house, and +cast one indifferent look at my window. I saw her again on the +following days, at the same hour, both in the garden and in the court, +but never dared to think of accosting her. I even met her sometimes +near the chalets, with the little girls who drove her donkey or picked +strawberries for her, at other times, in her boat on the lake; but I +never showed any sign of recognition or interest, beyond a grave and +respectful bow; she would return it with an air of melancholy +abstraction, and we each went our separate ways, on the hills or on the +waters. + + + + +VII. + + +And yet when I had not met her in the course of the day, I felt sad and +disturbed; when evening came, I would go down to the garden, I knew not +why, and stay there, with my eyes riveted on her windows, spite of the +cold night air. I could not make up my mind to return to the house +until I had caught a glimpse of her shadow on the curtains, or heard a +note of her piano, or one of the strange tones of her voice. + +The apartment she occupied was contiguous to my room, from which it was +separated by a strong oaken door with two bolts. I could hear +confusedly the sound of her footsteps, the rustling of her gown, or the +crumpling of the leaves of her book as she turned over the pages. I +sometimes fancied I heard her breathe. Instinctively I placed my +writing-table on which my lamp stood near the door, for I felt less +lonely when I heard these sounds of life around me. It seemed to me +that this unknown neighbor, who insensibly occupied all my time, shared +my life. In a word, before I had the slightest idea that I loved, I had +already all the thoughts, the fancies, and the refinements of passion. +Love did not consist for me in one particular symptom, look, or +confession, in any one external circumstance against which I could have +fortified myself. It was an invisible miasma diffused in the +surrounding atmosphere; it was in the air and light, in the expiring +season, in my lonely life, in the mysterious proximity of another +equally isolated existence; it was in the long excursions which took me +from her and made me feel the more forcibly the unconscious attraction +which recalled me; in her white dress, seen at a distance through the +mountain firs; in her dark hair loosened by the wind on the lake; in +the light at her window, in the slight creaking of the wooden floor +under her tread, in the rustling of her pen on the paper when she +wrote, in the very silence of those long autumnal evenings which she +spent in reading, writing, or in thought within a few paces of me; and +lastly, it was in the fascination of her fantastic beauty, too much +seen though scarcely beheld, and which, when I closed my eyes, I still +saw through the wall, as though it had been transparent. + +With this feeling, however, there mingled no desire or eager curiosity, +on my part, to find out the secret reason of her solitude, or to break +down the fragile barrier of our almost voluntary separation. What to me +was this woman whom I had met by chance among the mountains of a +foreign land, ill in health and sick at heart though she might be? I +had shaken the dust from my feet, or at least I thought I had, and felt +no wish to hold to the world once more by any link of the mind, or of +the senses, still less by any weakness of the heart. I felt supreme +contempt for love, for under its name I had met only with affectation, +coquetry, fickleness, and levity; if I except the love of Antonina, +which had been but a childish ecstasy, a flower fallen from the stem +before its hour of perfume. + + + + + +VIII. + + +Again, who was this woman? Was she a being like myself, or one of those +visions which, like living meteors, shoot athwart the sky of our +imagination, dazzling the eye? Was she of my own country, or from some +distant land, from some island of the tropics, or the far East, whither +I could not follow her? After adoring her for a few days, might I not +have to mourn forever her absence? Was her heart free to respond to +mine? Was it likely that enthralling beauty such as hers should have +traversed the world and reached maturity without kindling love in some +of those upon whom the glance of her eye had fallen? Had she a father +or a mother, brothers or sisters? Was she not married? Was there not +one man in the world who, though separated from her by inexplicable +circumstances, lived for her only, as she lived for him? + +All this I said to myself, to drive away this one besetting, hopeless +fancy. I scorned even to make inquiries. I was too much of a stoic to +strive to penetrate the unknown, and thought it more dignified, or +perhaps more pleasant, to go on dreaming in uncertainty. + + + + +IX. + + +The old doctor and his family had not the pride of heart that induced +me to respect her secret. At table our hosts, with the curiosity +natural to all those who live by strangers, would interpret every +circumstance, discuss every probability, and collect even the vaguest +notions concerning the stranger. I soon learned all that had transpired +respecting her, although I never interrogated and even studiously +avoided making her the subject of our discourse. In vain I sought to +turn the conversation into another channel; every day the same subject +recurred; men, women, children, bathers, and servants, the guides of +the mountains, and the boatmen on the lake, had all been equally struck +and charmed by her, although she spoke to no one. She was an object of +universal respect and admiration. + +There are some beings who, by their dazzling radiance, draw all around +them into their sphere of attraction without desiring or even +perceiving it. It seems as though certain natures were like the suns of +some moral system, obliging the looks, thoughts, and hearts of their +satellites to gravitate around them. Their moral and physical beauty is +a spell, their fascination a chain, love is but their emanation. We +track their upward course from earth to heaven, and when they vanish in +their youth and beauty, all else seems dark to the eye that has been +blinded by their brilliancy. The vulgar, even, recognize these superior +beings by some mysterious sign. They admire without comprehending, as +the blind enjoy the sunshine, who have never seen the sun. + + + + +X. + + +It was thus I learned that the young stranger lived in Paris. Her +husband was an old man, who had rendered his name illustrious, at the +close of the last century, by many discoveries which held a high place +in the history of science. He had been struck with the beauty and +talent of this young girl, and had adopted her in order to bequeath to +her his name and fortune. She loved him as a father, wrote to him every +day, and sent him a journal of her feelings and impressions. Two years +ago she had fallen into a declining state, which had alarmed him. She +had been recommended to remove southward and try change of air, and her +husband, being too infirm to accompany her, had confided her to the +care of some friends from Lausanne, with whom she had travelled all +over Italy and Switzerland. The change had not restored her to health, +and a Genevese doctor, fearing a disease of the heart, had recommended +the baths of Aix; he was to come to fetch her, and take her back to +Paris at the beginning of the winter. + +This was all I learned of a life already so dear. Still I persisted in +fancying that all these details were indifferent to me. I felt a tender +pity for this enchanting and beautiful being, blighted in the flower of +youth by a disease which, while it consumes life, renders the +sensations more acute and stimulates the flame which it is destined to +extinguish. When I met the stranger on the staircase, I sought to +discover the trace of her sufferings in the scarcely perceptible lines +of pain round her somewhat pale lips, or in the dark circle which want +of sleep had left round her beautiful blue eyes. I was interested by +her beauty, but still more by the shadow of death by which she was +overcast, and which made her appear more as a phantom of the night than +as a reality. This was all. Our lives rolled on; we continued to live +in close proximity as far as distance was concerned, but morally, as +widely separated as ever. + + + + +XI. + + +I had given up my mountain excursions since the snow had fallen on the +highest peaks of Savoy, for the gentle warmth of the latter days of +October seemed to have taken refuge in the valley; and on the banks of +the lake the weather was still mild. The long avenue of poplars was my +delight, with its gleams of sunshine, waving tops, and murmuring +branches. I spent, also, a great part of my time on the water. The +boatmen all knew me, and I am told they still remember how we used to +sail into the wildest creeks and remotest bays of France and Savoy. The +young stranger, too, would sometimes embark in the middle of the day +for less distant expeditions. The boatmen, who were proud of her +confidence, always took care to give her notice of the least symptom of +wind or cold weather, thinking far more of her health and safety than +of their own gains. On one occasion, however, they were themselves +deceived. They had undertaken to row her safely over to Haute-Combe, on +the opposite shore of the lake, in order to visit the ruins of the +Abbey. They had scarcely got over two-thirds of the distance, when a +sudden gust of wind, rushing forth from the narrow gorges of the valley +of the Rhone, stirred up the waves of the lake, and produced one of +those short seas which so often prove fatal. The sail of the little +boat was soon gone, and it seemed like a nutshell dancing on the +still-increasing waves. It was impossible to think of returning, and +full half an hour of fatigue and danger must elapse before the boat +could be moored in safety under the hanging cliffs of Haute-Combe. Fate +willed that my wandering sail should be on the lake at the same hour. I +was in a larger boat, with four stout oarsmen, and was going to visit +M. de Chatillon, a relation of my Chambery friend. His chateau was +situated on the summit of a rock, in a small island at one end of the +lake. A few strokes of the oar would have brought us into the harbor of +Chatillon, but I, who had unconsciously been watching the other boat +and saw it struggling against the wind, perceived the danger in which +it was placed. We put about immediately, and with one heart affronted +the tempest and the dangers of the lake, to try and succor the little +craft, which every now and then disappeared, and was lost in a mist of +foam and spray. My anxiety was intense during the hour that was +required to cross the lake before we could join the little bark. When +we came up to it, the shore was close at hand, and one long wave lodged +it in safety before our eyes on the sand at the foot of the ruined +Abbey. + +We shouted for joy, and rushed through the water to the boat, in order +to carry the invalid ashore. The poor boatman was making signs of +distress, and calling for help; he was pointing to the bottom of the +boat, at something we could not see. On reaching the spot where he +stood, we found that the stranger had fainted, and was lying at the +bottom of the boat. Her body and arms were completely immersed in +water, and her head rested like that of a corpse against the little +wooden chest at the stern, in which the boatmen put their tackle and +provisions. Her hair streamed in disorder about her neck and shoulders, +like the dark wings of a lifeless bird floating on the surface of the +waters. Her face, from which all color had not fled, was calm and +peaceful as in slumber and shone with that preternatural beauty death +leaves on the countenance of those who die young; like the last and +fairest ray of retiring life, lingering on the brow from which it is +about to depart, or the first beam of dawning immortality on the +features which are henceforward to be hallowed in the memory of those +who survive. I had never before, and have never since, seen her so +divinely transfigured. Was Death the most perfect form of her celestial +beauty, or did Providence intend this first and solemn impression, as a +foreshadowing of that unchangeable image of beauty, which I was +destined to entomb in my memory, and eternally evoke! + +We jumped into the boat, to take up the apparently dying woman, and +carry her beyond the rocks. I placed my hand upon her heart, and +approached my ear to her lips, as I would to those of a sleeping +infant. The heart beat irregularly, but with strong pulsations; the +breath was warm, and I saw that she had only fainted from terror and +from cold. One of the boatmen took up her feet, I supported the +shoulders and the head, which rested on my breast. She gave no sign of +life while we carried her thus to a fisherman's house, below the rocks +of Haute-Combe, which serves as an inn for the boatmen, when they +conduct strangers to the ruins. This poor dwelling consisted merely in +one long, dark, smoky room, furnished with a table upon which were +wine, bread, and cheese. A wooden ladder led to an upper room, which +was lighted by a single round window without glass, looking towards the +lake. Almost the whole space of this room was occupied by three beds, +which could be closed up by wooden doors, like large presses. The whole +family slept there. We confided the stranger, who was still insensible, +to the care of the two girls of the house and their mother, and we +stood outside the door, while they extended a mattress near the +chimney, and having lighted a fire of furze, undressed her, dried her +clothes, chafed her limbs, and wrung her streaming hair; they then +carried her upstairs, and placed her in one of the beds, on which they +had spread clean sheets, which had been warmed with one of the heated +hearth-stones, according to the custom of the peasants of that country. +They tried in vain to make her swallow a few drops of wine and vinegar +to bring her to life; but finding all their efforts unavailing, gave +way to tears and lamentations, which soon recalled us into the house. +"The lady is dead! the lady is dead! We can only weep, and send for a +priest." The boatmen mingled their cries with those of the women, and +increased their confusion. I rushed up the ladder and entered the room. +The dim twilight still showed the bed over which I bent. I touched her +forehead; it was burning hot; I could distinguish the low and regular +breathing which made the coarse brown sheet alternately rise and fall +on the chest. I bid the women be quiet, and giving some money to one of +the boatmen, ordered him to fetch a doctor, who, I was told, lived two +leagues off, in a little village on the Mont du Chat. The boatman set +off at full speed; the others, comforted by the assurance that the lady +was not dead, sat down to eat. The women went and came from the parlor +to the cellar, and from the cellar to the poultry-yard, to make +preparations for supper. I remained seated on one of the bags of Indian +corn at the foot of the bed, my hands clasped on my knees, and my eyes +fixed on the inanimate face and closed eyelids of the sufferer. Night +had closed in. One of the young girls had fastened the shutter, and +suspended a small copper lamp against the wall; its rays fell on the +sheets and on the sleeping countenance like the light of holy tapers on +a death-bed. Since then, I have thus watched, alas, by other bedsides, +but the sleepers never woke! + + + + +XII. + + +Never perhaps was the heart of man absorbed for so many long hours in +one strange and overwhelming speculation. Suspended between death and +love, I was unable to divine, as I gazed on the angel form that lay +sleeping before me, whether this night in its mystery would bring-forth +endless anguish, or whether undying love would come in the morning, +with returning life and joy. In the convulsive movements of her +troubled sleep she had thrown the sheet off one of her shoulders upon +which fell the long luxuriant curls of her lustrous hair. The neck had +yielded to the weight of the head, which was thrown back on the pillow, +and slightly inclined towards the left shoulder; one of the arms was +disengaged from the cover-lid and was placed beneath the head, showing +the ivory whiteness of the elbow, which stood out on the coarse brown +linen in which the peasant women had dressed her. On one of the fingers +of the hand, which was half concealed in the masses of dark hair, there +was a small gold ring with a sparkling ruby, on which the rays of the +lamp flashed. The girls had lain down on the floor without undressing, +and their mother had fallen asleep with her hands folded on the back of +a wooden chair. As soon as the cock crowed in the yard, they got up, +and taking their wooden shoes in their hands, noiselessly descended the +ladder to go to work. I remained alone. + +The first gleams of dawn came through the closed shutter in almost +imperceptible streaks of light. I opened the window in the hope that +the balmy morning air from the lake and mountains, which awakened all +Nature, would have the same effect on one whom I would willingly have +revived at the cost of my own life. The chill air rushed into the room, +and extinguished the expiring lamp. Nothing stirred on the bed. I heard +the poor women below joining in common prayer, before commencing their +day's labor. The thought of praying likewise entered my heart. I felt, +as all do who have exhausted the whole strength of their soul, the wish +to superadd the force of some mysterious and preterhuman power to the +impotent tension of ardent desires. I knelt on the floor, with my hands +clasped on the edge of the bed, and my eyes riveted on the face of the +sleeper. I wept, and prayed long and fervently; the tears chased each +other down my face and hid from my blinded eyes the features of the one +whose recovery I so ardently desired. My whole heart and soul were so +absorbed in one feeling and one sensation, that I might have remained +hours in the same attitude without being aware of the lapse of time, or +the pain of kneeling on the stone floor; when suddenly, while I was +unconsciously wiping away my tears, I felt a hand touch mine, part the +hair from my face, and gently rest upon my head, as if to bless me. + +I looked up with a cry of delight; I saw her unclosed eyes, her smiling +lips, her hand extended towards mine, and heard these words: "O God! I +thank thee. I have now a brother!" + + + + +XIII. + + +[Illustration: RAPHAEL'S DEVOTION.] + + + +The cool morning air had awakened her, while I was praying by her +bedside, with my face buried in my hands. She had noted my ardent pity, +and my ardent prayer, and had recognized me by the clear light of +morning, which now streamed into the chamber. When she had fainted she +was lonely and indifferent, and had revived under the tender care, and +perhaps the love of a pitying stranger. She, who, in the neglected +flower of her days, had been deprived of all the kindred ties of the +heart, had unexpectedly found in me the care and pity, the tears and +prayers, of a youthful brother; and that tender name had escaped her +lips at the moment that returning life gave her the consciousness of so +great a joy. + +"A brother! Ah, no, not a brother!" I exclaimed, reverently removing +her hand from my brow, as though I had not been worthy of her touch, +"not a brother, but a slave, a living shadow following on your steps, +who asks but one blessing of Heaven, and one felicity on earth--the +right of remembering this night; who only desires to preserve eternally +the image of the superhuman vision he would wish to follow unto death, +or for whom alone he could bear to live." As I faltered out these words +in a low voice, the rosy tints of life gradually reappeared on her +cheeks, a sad smile, implying an obstinate unbelief in happiness, +played round her mouth, and she raised her eyes to the ceiling, as +though they listened to words which responded not to the ear, but to +the thoughts. Never was the change from life to death, from a dream to +reality, so rapid; on her countenance, now blooming with youth and +refreshed by rest, surprise, languor, delight, repose, joy and +melancholy, timidity and grace were all painted in quick succession. +Her radiance seemed to illumine the dark recess more than the light of +morning. There existed more languor, more revealings, more sympathy in +her looks and silence, than in millions of words. The human face speaks +a language to the eye, and in youth the countenance is an instrument of +which one look of passion sweeps the keys. It transmits from soul to +soul mysteries of mute communion, which cannot be translated into +words. My countenance, too, must have revealed what I felt to those +eyes which were bent so earnestly upon me. My damp clothes, my long, +dishevelled hair, my eyes heavy with watching, my pale and anxious +looks, the pious enthusiasm with which I bent before the holiness of +suffering beauty, my emotion, joy, and surprise, the dimness of the +room in which I durst not take a step for fear of dispelling the +enchantment of so divine a dream, the first rays of sun, which showed +the tears still glistening in my eyes,--all conspired to lend to my +countenance a power of expression, and a look of tenderness, which it +will doubtless never wear again in the course of a long life. + +Unable to bear any longer the reaction of these feelings, and the +internal vibration of such silence, I called up the women. On entering +the room, they broke out into repeated exclamations of surprise at the +sight of a resurrection which appeared to them a miracle. At the same +moment the doctor made his appearance. He prescribed repose and an +infusion of certain plants of the mountain which allay the irregular +movements of the heart. He reassured every one by telling us that the +lady's malady was one of youth, produced by excessive sensibility, and +which time would mitigate; that it was but a superabundance of life, +although it often wore the appearance of death, and was never fatal, +except when inward grief or some moral cause changed its character into +one of habitual melancholy, or an unconquerable distaste to life. While +some of the women went out into the fields, to gather the samples +ordered by the doctor, and others were ironing out her damp clothes in +the lower room, I left the house to wander alone among the ruins of the +old Abbey. + + + + +XIV. + + +But my heart was too full of its own emotions to feel interested in the +anchorites of the Abbey. The enthusiasm and self-denial of the early +monasteries had subsided into a profession; and at a later period their +lives, unlinked with those of their fellow-beings, had fruitlessly +evaporated within these cloisters, and left no trace behind. I felt no +regret as I stood upon their tombs, but only wondered, as I noted how +speedily Nature seizes on the empty dwellings and deserted abodes of +man, and how superior is the living architecture of shrubs and briers, +waving ivy, wall-flowers and creeping plants, throwing their mantle on +the ruined walls, to the cold symmetry of stones, or the lifeless +ornaments of the chiselled monuments of men. + +There was now more sunshine, music, and perfume, more holy psalmody of +the winds and waters, of birds, and sonorous echoes of the lakes and +forests, beneath the crumbling pillars, dismantled nave, and shattered +roof of the empty Abbey, than there had been holy tapers, fumes of +incense and monotonous chants in the ceremonies and processions that +filled it night and day. Nature is the high priest, the noblest +decorator, the holiest poet and most inspired musician of God. The +young swallows in their nests below the broken cornice, greeting their +mother with their cheerful chirping; the sighing of the breeze, which +seems to bear to the unpeopled cloisters the sound of flapping sails, +the lament of the waves, and the dying notes of the fisherman's song; +the balmy emanations which now and then are wafted through the nave; +the flowers which shed their leaves upon the tombs, the waving of the +green drapery which clothes the walls; the sonorous and reverberated +echoes of the stranger's steps upon the vaults where sleep the +dead,--are all as full of piety, holy thoughts, and unbounded +aspirations, as was the monastery in its days of sacred splendor. Man +is no longer there, with all his miserable passions contracted by the +narrow pale in which they were confined, but not extinguished; but God +is there, never so plainly seen as in the works of Nature,--God whose +unshadowed splendor seems to re-enter once more these intellectual +graves, whose vaulted roofs no longer intercept the glorious sunshine +and the light of heaven. + + + + +XV. + + +I was not at the time sufficiently composed to understand my own +feelings. I felt as one just relieved from a heavy burden, who breathes +freely, relaxes his contracted muscles, and walks to and fro in his +strength, as though he could devour space, and inhale all the air of +heaven. My own heart was the burden of which I had been relieved, and, +in giving it to another, I felt as if I had for the first time entered +into the fulness of life. Man is so truly born to love, that it is only +when he has the consciousness of loving fully and entirely that he +feels himself really a man. Until then he is disturbed and restless, +inconstant and wandering in his thoughts; but from thenceforward all +his waverings cease, he feels at rest, and sees his destiny before him. + +I sat down upon the ivy-covered wall of a high dilapidated terrace +which overlooked the lake. My eyes wandered over the bright expanse of +water and the luminous immensity of the sky; they were so well blended +in the azure line of the horizon that it would have been impossible to +define where the sky commenced, and where the lake terminated. I seemed +to float in the pure ether, or to be merged in a universal ocean. But +the inward joy which inundated my soul was far more infinite, radiant, +and incommensurate, than the atmosphere with which I seemed to mingle. +I could not have defined my joy, or rather my inward serenity. It was +as some unfathomable secret revealed to me by feelings instead of +words,--as the sensation of the eye passing from darkness into light, +or as the rapture of some mystical soul, secure in the possession of +its God. It was dazzling light, intoxication without giddiness, repose +without heaviness, or immobility. I could have lived on thus during as +many thousand years as there were ripples on the lake, or sands upon +its shores, without perceiving that more seconds had elapsed than were +required for a single respiration. When the immortal dwellers in heaven +first lose the consciousness of the duration of time, they must feel +thus; it was an immutable thought, in the eternity of an instant. + + + + +XVI. + + +These sensations were not precise, or definable. They were too complete +to be scanned; thought could not divide, nor reflection analyze them. +They did not take their rise in the loveliness of the superhuman +creature that I adored, for the shadow of death still lay between her +beauty and my eyes; or in the pride of being loved by her, for I knew +not if I was more in her sight than a dream of morning; or in the hope +of possessing her charms, for my respect was too far above such vile +gratifications of the senses even to stoop to them in thought; or in +the satisfaction of displaying my triumph, for selfish vanity held no +place in my heart, and I knew no one in that secluded spot before whom +I could profane my love by disclosing it; or in the hope of linking her +fate with mine, for I knew she was another's; or in the certainty of +seeing her, and the happiness of following her steps, for I was as +little free as she was, and in a few days fate was to divide us; nor, +lastly, in the certainty of being beloved, for I knew nothing of her +heart, except the one word and look of gratitude that she had addressed +to me. + +Mine was another feeling; pure, calm, disinterested, and immaterial. It +was repose of the heart, after having met with the long sought-for, and +till then unfound, object of its restless adoration; the long-desired +idol of that vague, unquiet adoration of supreme beauty which agitates +the soul until the divinity has been discovered, and that our heart has +clung to as a straw to the magnet, or mingled with as sighs with the +surrounding air. + +Strange to say, I felt no impatience to see her once more, to hear her +voice, to be near her, or to converse freely with one who had become +the sole object of my life and thoughts. I had seen her and she had +become part of myself. Henceforward nothing could rob my soul of its +possession; far or near, present or absent, I bore her with me; all +else was indifferent. Perfect love is patient, because it is absolute, +and knows itself to be eternal. No power could tear her from my heart. +I felt that henceforward her image was completely mine; it was to me +what light is to the eye that has once seen it, air to the lungs that +have once inhaled it, or thought to the mind in which it has once been +conceived. I defied Heaven itself to rob me of this divine embodying of +my desires. I had seen her, and that was enough. For the contemplative, +to see is to enjoy. It scarcely mattered to me whether she loved me, or +whether she passed me by without perceiving me. I had been touched by +her splendor, and was still enveloped in her rays; she could no more +withdraw them from me than the sun can take from the earth the beams +which he has shed upon it. I felt that darkness and night had fled +forever from my heart, and that she would evermore shine there, as she +then shone, though I lived for a thousand years. + + + + +XVII. + + +This conviction gave to my love all the security of immutability, the +calm of certainty, the overflowing ecstasy of joy that would never be +impaired. I took no note of time, knowing that I had before me hours +without end, and that each in succession would give me back her inward +presence. I might be separated from her during a century without +reducing by one day the eternity of my love. I went and came; sat down +and got up again. I ran, then stopped and walked on without feeling the +ground beneath my feet, like those phantoms which glide upon earth, +upheld by their impalpable, ethereal nature. I extended my arms to +grasp the air, the light, the lake; I would have clasped all Nature in +one vast embrace in thankfulness that she had become incarnate, for me, +in a being that united all her charms and splendor, power, and +delights. I knelt on the stones and briers of the ruins without feeling +them and on the brink of precipices without perceiving them. I uttered +inarticulate words, which were lost in the sound of the noisy waters of +the lake; I strove to pierce the vaults of heaven, and to carry my song +of gratitude, and my ecstasy of joy, into the very presence of God. I +was no longer a man, I was a living hymn of praise, prayer, adoration, +worship of overflowing, speechless thankfulness. I felt an intoxication +of the heart, a madness of the soul; my body had lost the consciousness +of its materiality and I no longer believed in time, or space, or +death. The new life of love which had gushed forth in my heart gave me +the consciousness, the anticipated enjoyment, of the fulness of +immortality. + + + + +XVIII. + + +I was made aware of the flight of time by seeing the meridian sun +striking on the summit of the Abbey walls. I came down the hill through +the woods bounding from rock to rock, and from tree to tree. My heart +beat as though it would burst. As I approached the little inn, I saw +the stranger in a sloping meadow behind the house. She was seated at +the foot of a sunny wall, against which the inhabitants of the place +had piled a few stones. Her white dress shone out on the verdant +meadow, and the shade of a haystack screened her face from the sun. She +was reading in a little book that lay open on her lap, and every now +and then interrupted her reading to play with the children from the +mountain, who came to offer her flowers, or chestnuts. On seeing me, +she attempted to rise as if to meet me half-way, and her gesture was +quite sufficient to encourage me to approach. She received me with a +blushing look and tremulous lip, which I perceived, and which increased +my own bashfulness. The strangeness of our situation was so +embarrassing, that we remained some time without finding a word to say +to each other. At last, with a timid and scarcely intelligible gesture, +she motioned to me to sit down on the hay, not far from her; it seemed +to me that she has expected me, and had kept a place for me. I sat down +respectfully at some distance. Our silence remained unbroken, and it +was evident that we were both ineffectually seeking to exchange some of +those commonplace phrases which may be called the base coin of +conversation, and serve to conceal thoughts instead of revealing them. +Fearing to say too much or too little, we gave no utterance to what was +in our hearts; we remained mute, and our silence increased our +embarrassment. At length, our downcast eyes were raised at the same +moment and met; I saw such depth of sensibility in hers, and she read +in mine so much suppressed rapture, truth, and deep feeling, that we +could no longer take them off each other's face, and tears rising to +our eyes, at the same instant, from both our hearts we each +instinctively put up our hands as if to veil our thoughts. + +I know not how long we remained thus. At last, in a trembling voice, +and with a somewhat constrained and impatient tone, she said: "You have +wept over me; I have called you brother, you have adopted me for your +sister, and yet we dare not look at each other? A tear," she added, "a +disinterested tear from an unknown heart is more than my life is +worth,--more than it has ever yet called forth!" Then with a slightly +reproachful accent she said: "Am I then become once more a stranger to +you, since I no longer require your care? Oh, as to me," she proceeded +in a resolute tone of confidence, "I know nothing of you but your name +and countenance, but I know your heart! A century could not teach me +more!" + +"For my part," said I, faltering, "I would wish to learn nothing of all +that makes you a being like unto ourselves, and bound by the same links +as us to this wretched world. I require but to know this,--that you +have traversed it, and that you have allowed me to contemplate you from +afar, and to remember you always." + +"Oh, do not deceive yourself thus!" she replied; "do not see in me a +deified delusion of your own heart; I should have to suffer too much +when the chimera vanished. View me as I am; as a poor woman, who is +dying in despondency and solitude, and who will take with her from +earth no feeling more divine than that of pity. You will understand +this, when I tell you who I am," added she; "but first answer me on one +point, which has disquieted me since the day I first saw you in the +garden. Why, young and gentle as you seem to be, are you so lonely and +so sad? Why do you fly from the company and conversation of our host, +to wander alone on the lake, and in the most secluded parts of the +mountains, or to retire into your room? Your light burns far into the +night, I am told. Have you some secret in your heart that you confine +to solitude?" She waited my answer with visible anxiety, and kept her +eyes closed, as if to conceal the impression it might make upon her. +"My secret," said I, "is to have none; to feel the weight of a heart +that no enthusiasm upheld until this hour; of a heart which I have +endeavored to engage in unsatisfactory attachments, and which I have +ever been obliged to resume with such bitterness and loathing, as +forever to discourage me, young and feeling as I am, from loving." I +then told her, without concealment, as I would have spoken before +Heaven, of all that could interest her in my life. I related my birth, +my humble and poor condition; I spoke of my father, a soldier of former +days; my mother, a woman of exquisite sensibility, whose youth had been +passed in all the refinement and elegance of letters; my young sisters, +their pious and angelic simplicity; I mentioned my education among the +children of my native mountains; my ready enthusiasm for study; my +involuntary inaction; my travels; my first thrill of the heart beside +the youthful daughter of the Neapolitan fisherman; the unprofitable +acquaintances I formed in Paris,--the levity, misconduct, and +self-abasement which had been the result; my desire for a soldier's +life, which peace had counteracted at the very time I entered the army; +my leaving my regiment; my wanderings without an object; my hopeless +return to the paternal roof; my wasting melancholy; my wish to die; my +weariness of everything; and lastly, I spoke of my physical languor, A +proceeding from heaviness of the soul, and of that premature +decrepitude of the heart, and distaste of life, which was concealed +beneath the appearance and features of a man of four-and-twenty. I +dwelt with inward satisfaction on the disappointments, weariness, and +bitterness of my life, for I no longer felt them! A single look had +regenerated me. I spoke of myself as of one that was dead; a new man +was born within me. When I had ended, I raised my eyes to her, as +towards my judge. She was trembling and pale with emotion. "Heavens," +she exclaimed, "how you alarmed me!" "And why?" said I. "Because," she +rejoined, "if you had not been unhappy and lonely here below, there +would have been one link the less between us. You would have felt no +desire to pity another; and I should have quitted life without having +seen a shadow of myself, save in the heartless mirror where my own cold +image is reflected." + +"The history of your life," she continued, "is the history of mine, +with the change of a few particulars. Only yours commences, and mine--" +I would not let her conclude. "No, no!" said I hoarsely pressing my +lips to her feet, which I embraced convulsively as if to hold her down +to earth; "no, no! you will not, must not die; or, if you do, I feel +two lives will end at once!" + +I was alarmed at my own gesture and at the exclamation which had +involuntarily escaped me; and I durst not raise my face off the ground, +from which she had withdrawn her feet. "Rise," she said, in a grave +voice, but without anger; "do not worship dust--dust as lowly as that +in which you are soiling your fine hair, and which will be scattered as +light and as impalpable by the first autumnal wind. Do not deceive +yourself as to the poor creature you see before you. I am but the +shadow of youth, of beauty, and of love,--of the love you will one day +feel and inspire, when this shadow shall long have passed away. Keep +your heart for those who are to live, and only give to the dying what +the dying ask, a gentle hand to support their last steps, and tears to +mourn their loss." + +The grave and serious tone-with which she said these words struck to my +heart. Yet as I looked on her, and saw the glowing tints of the setting +sun illumining her face, which shone with hourly increasing youth and +serenity of expression, as though a new sun had risen in her heart, I +could not believe in death concealed under these glorious signs of +life. Besides, what cared I? If that heavenly vision was death, well, +it was death I loved. It might be that the vast and perfect love for +which I thirsted was only to be found in death. It might be that God +had only showed me its nearly extinguished light on earth, to urge me +to follow the trace of its ray into the grave, and from thence to +heaven. + +"Do not stay dreaming thus," she said, "but listen to me!" This was not +said with the accent of one who loves, and affects a sportive +seriousness, but with the tone of a still youthful mother, or an elder +sister counselling a brother or a son. "I do not wish you to attach +yourself to a false appearance, a delusion, a dream; I wish you to know +her to whom you so rashly pledge a heart which she could only retain by +deceiving you. Falsehood has always been so odious and so impossible to +me, that I could not desire the supreme felicity of heaven, if I must +enter heaven by deceit. Stolen happiness would not be happiness for me, +it would be remorse." + +As she spoke, there was so much candor on her lips, so much sincerity +in her tone, and limpid purity in her eyes, that I fancied as I looked +at her that under her pure and lovely form I saw immortal Truth, in the +broad light of day, pouring her voice into the ear, her look into the +eye, and her soul into the heart. I stretched myself on the hay at her +feet and, with my elbow leaning on the ground, I rested my head upon my +hand; my eyes were riveted upon her lips, of which I strove not to lose +a single motion, a single modulation, or a single sigh. + + + + +XIX. + + +"I was born," she said, "in the same land as Virginia (for the poet's +fancy has given a real birthplace to his dream), in an island of the +tropics. You may have guessed it from the color of my hair, and from my +complexion, which is paler than that of European women. You must have +perceived, too, the accent which still lingers on my lips. In truth, I +rather wish to preserve that accent as my only memento of my native +land; it recalls to my mind the plaintive and harmonious sounds of the +sea-breeze that are heard at noon beneath the lofty palms. You may also +have noticed that incorrigible indolence of walk and attitude, so +different from the vivacity of French women, which indicates in the +Creole a wild and natural frankness that knows not how to feign or to +dissemble. + +"My family name is D----, and my own is Julie. My mother was lost in a +boat in attempting to leave our native island during an insurrection of +the blacks. I was washed ashore and saved by a black woman, who took +care of me for several years, and then delivered me over to my father. +He brought me to France when I was six years old, with an elder sister, +and a short time after he died in poverty and exile in the house of +some poor relations, who had hospitably received us in Brittany. The +second mother whom I had found in exile provided for my education until +her death, and, at twelve years old, I was adopted by the government as +being the daughter of a man who had done some service to his country. + +"I was brought up in all the luxurious splendor, and amid the choice +friendships of those sumptuous houses, in which the State receives the +daughters of those who die for their country. I grew in years, in +talent, and also, it was said, in beauty. Mine was a grave and saddened +grace, like the flower of some tropical plant blooming awhile beneath a +foreign sky. But my useless beauty and my unavailing talents gladdened +no eye or heart beyond the narrow precincts in which I was confined. My +companions, with whom I had formed those close intimacies which make +the friends of childhood the kindred of the heart, had all left, one by +one, to join their mothers, or to follow their husbands. No mother took +me home; no relation came to visit me; no young man heard of me, or +sought me for his wife. I was saddened by these successive departures +of all my friends, and felt sorrowful to think I was forsaken by the +whole world, and doomed to an eternal bereavement of the heart without +ever having loved. I often wept in secret, and regretted that the poor +black woman had not allowed me to perish in the waves of my native +shore, more merciful to me than the ocean, of the world on which I was +cast. + +"Now and then, an old man of great celebrity would come to visit, in +the name of the Emperor, the national house of education, and inquire +into the progress of the pupils in the arts and sciences, which were +taught by the first masters of the capital; I was always pointed out to +him as the brightest example of the education bestowed on the orphans. +He invariably treated me with peculiar predilection from my childhood. +'How I regret,' he would sometimes say, loud enough for me to hear, +'that I have no son!' + +"One day I was called down to the parlor of the Superior. I found there +my illustrious and venerable friend, who seemed as discomposed as I was +myself. 'My child,' said he, at length, 'years roll on for every +one,--slowly for you, swiftly for me. You are now seventeen; in a few +months you will have attained the age at which you must leave this +house for the world; but there is no world to receive you. You have no +country, no home, no fortune, and no family in France; your unprotected +and dependent situation has made me feel anxious on your account for +many years. The life of a young girl who earns her livelihood by her +labor is full of snares and bitterness, and a home offered by friends +is both precarious and humiliating to the spirit. The extreme beauty +that Nature has bestowed upon you will, by its brightness, dispel the +obscurity of your fate and attract vice, as the brightness of gold +induces theft. Where do you mean to take shelter from the sorrows and +dangers of life?' 'I know not,' I answered; 'and I have thought +sometimes that death alone can save me from my fate!' 'Oh,' he replied, +with a sad and irresolute smile, 'I have thought of another mode of +escape, but I scarcely dare propose it.' 'Speak without fear, sir,' I +answered; 'you have during so many years spoken to me with the look and +accent of a father, that I shall fancy I am obeying mine, in obeying +you.' 'Ah, he would be happy indeed,' he replied, 'who had a daughter +such as you! Forgive me if I have sometimes indulged in such a dream! +Listen to me,' he added in a more tender and serious tone; 'and answer +me in thorough frankness and liberty of heart. + +"'My life is drawing to a close; the grave will soon open to receive +me, and I have no relations to whom to bequeath my only wealth,--the +unaspiring celebrity of my name, and the humble fortune that I have +acquired by my labors. Hitherto I have lived alone, completely absorbed +by the studies that have consumed and dignified my life. I draw near to +the close of my existence, and I am painfully aware that I have not +commenced to live, since I have not thought of loving. It is too late +to retrace my steps, and follow the path of happiness instead of that +of glory, which I have unfortunately chosen; and yet I would not die +without leaving in some memory that prolongation of existence in the +existence of another, which is called affection,--the only immortality +in which I believe. I cannot hope for more than gratitude, and I feel +that it is from you that I should wish to obtain it. But,' added he, +more timidly, 'for that, you must consent to accept, in the eyes of the +world, and for the world only, the name, the hand, and the affection of +an old man who would he a father under the name of husband, and who, as +such, would merely seek the right of receiving you into his house, and +loving you as his child.' + +"He stopped, and refused that day to hear the answer which was already +hovering on my lips. He was the only man among all the visitors of the +house who had evinced any feeling towards me, beyond that vulgar and +almost insolent admiration which shows itself in looks and +exclamations, and is as much an offence as an homage. I knew nothing of +love; I only felt an absence of all family ties which I thought the +tenderness of my adoptive father would replace. I was offered a safe +and honorable refuge against the dangers of the life in which I was to +enter in a few months; and a name which would be as a diadem to the +woman who bore it. His hair had grown white, it was true, but under the +touch of Fame, which bestows eternal youth upon its favorites; his +years would have numbered four times mine, but his regular and majestic +features inspired respect for time, and no disgust for old age, and his +countenance, where genius and goodness were combined, possessed that +beauty of declining age which attracts the eye and affection even of +childhood." + + * * * * * + +"The very day I quitted forever the Orphan Establishment, I entered my +husband's house, not as his wife, but as his daughter. The world gave +him the name of husband, but he never suffered me to call him anything +but father, and he was such to me in care and tenderness. He made me +the adored and radiating centre of a select and distinguished circle, +composed for the greater part of those old men, eminent in letters, +politics, or philosophy, who had been the glory of the preceding +century and had escaped the fury of the Revolution, and the voluntary +servitude of the Empire. He selected for me friends and guides among +those women of the same period who were most remarkable for their +talents or virtues; he promoted and encouraged all those connections +most likely to interest my mind or heart, and to diversify the +monotonous life I led in an old man's house; and far from being severe +or jealous in respect of my acquaintances, he sought by the most +courteous attention to attract all those distinguished men whose +society might have charms for me. He would have liked whomever I had +chosen, and would have been pleased if I had shown preference to any +one among the crowd. I was the worshipped idol of the house, and the +general idolatry of which I was the object went far, perhaps, to guard +me against any individual predilection. I was too happy and too much +flattered to inquire into the state of my own heart, and besides, there +was so much paternal tenderness in my husband's manner towards me, +although he only showed his fondness by sometimes holding me to his +heart, and kissing my forehead, from which he gently parted my hair, +that I should have feared to disturb my happiness by seeking to render +it complete. He would sometimes, however, playfully rally me on my +indifference, and tell me that all that tended to add to my happiness +would increase his own. + +"Once, and once only, I thought I loved and was beloved. A man whose +genius had rendered him illustrious, who was powerful from his high +favor with the Emperor, and who was doubly captivating by his renown +and appearance, although he had passed the meridian of life, sought me +with a signal devotion that deceived me. I was not elated with pride, +but rather with gratitude and surprise. I loved him for a time, or +rather I loved a self-created delusion under his name. I might have +yielded to the charm of such a feeling, had I not discovered that what +I supposed to be a passionate attachment of the heart was on his part +only an infatuation of the senses. When I perceived the real nature of +his love, it became odious to me, and I blushed to think how I had been +deceived; I took back my heart, and wrapped myself once more in the +cold monotony of my happiness. + +"The morning was spent in deep and engaging studies with my husband, +whose willing disciple I was. During the day we took long and solitary +walks in the woods of St. Cloud or of Meudon; and in the evening a few +grave, and for the most part elderly, friends would meet and discourse +on various topics, with all the freedom of intimacy. These cold but +indulgent hearts inclined toward my youth, from that natural bias which +makes the love of the aged descend on the youthful, as the streams of +snow-covered summits flow downwards to the plain. But these hoary heads +seemed to shed their snows on me, and my youth pined and wasted away in +the ungenial atmosphere of age. There lay too great a space of years +between their hearts and mine! Oh, what would I not have given to have +had one friend of my own age, by the contact of whose warm heart I +might have dissolved the thoughts that froze within me, as the dew of +morning congeals upon the plants that grow too near these mountain +glaciers! + +"My husband often looked sadly at me, and seemed alarmed at my pale +face and languid voice. He would have desired, at any cost, to give air +and motion to my heart. He continually tried to induce me to mingle in +diversions which might dispel my melancholy, and would use gentle force +to oblige me to appear at balls and theatres, in the hope that the +natural pride which my youth and beauty might have given me would have +made me share in the pleasure of those around me. The next morning, as +soon as I was awake, he would come into my room and make me relate the +impression I had produced, the admiration I had attracted, and even +speak of the hearts that I had seemed to touch. 'And you,' would he +say, in a tone of gentle interrogation, 'do you share none of these +feelings that you inspire? Is your young heart at twenty as old as +mine? Oh, that I could see you single out from among all these admirers +one superior being, who might one day, by his love, render your +happiness complete, and when I am gone, continue my affection for you +under a younger and more tender form!' 'Your affection suffices me,' I +would answer; 'I feel no pain; I desire nothing; I am happy!' 'Yes,' he +would rejoin, 'you are happy, but you are growing old at twenty! Oh, +remember that it is your task to close my eyes! Live and love! oh, do +but live, that I may not survive you! + +"He called in one doctor after another; they wearied me with questions, +and all agreed in saying that I was threatened with spasm of the heart. +The fainting fits, incident to the disease, had begun to show +themselves. I required, it was said, to break through the usual routine +of my life, to relinquish for some time my sedentary habits, and seek a +complete change of air and scene, in order to give me that stimulus and +energy that my tropical nature required, and which it had lost in the +cold and misty atmosphere of Paris. My husband did not hesitate one +moment between the hope of prolonging my life and the happiness of +keeping me near him. As he could not, by reason of his age and +occupations, accompany me, he confided me to the care of friends who +were travelling in Switzerland and Italy, with two daughters of my own +age. I travelled with that family two years; I have seen mountains and +seas that reminded me of those of my native land; I have breathed the +balmy and stimulating air of the waves and glaciers; but nothing has +restored to me the youth that has withered in my heart, although it +sometimes appears to bloom on my face, so as to deceive even me. The +doctors of Geneva have sent me here, as the last resource of their art; +they have advised me to prolong my stay as long as one ray of sun +lingers in the autumnal sky; then I shall rejoin my husband. Alas, that +I could have shown him his daughter, once more young, and radiant with +health and hope! But I feel that I shall return only to sadden his +latter days, and perhaps to expire in his arms! Well," she rejoined in +a resigned and almost joyful tone, "I shall not now leave earth without +having seen my long-expected brother,--the brother of the soul, that +some secret instinct taught me to expect, and whose image, foreshadowed +in my fancy, had made me indifferent to all real beings. Yes," she +said, covering her eyes with her rosy taper fingers between which I saw +one or two tears trickle; "oh, yes, the dream of all my nights was +embodied in you this morning, when I awoke! ... Oh, if it were not too +late to live on, I would wish to live for centuries, to prolong the +consciousness of that look, which seemed to weep over me, of that heart +that pitied me, of that voice," she added, unveiling her eyes which +were raised to heaven,--"of that voice that called me sister! ... That +tender name will never more be taken from me," she added with a look +and tone of gentle interrogation, "during life, or after death?" + + + + +XX. + + +I sank at her feet overpowered with felicity, and pressed my lips to +them without saying a word. I heard the step of the boatmen, who came +to tell us that the lake was calm, and that there was but just +sufficient daylight left to cross over to the Savoy shore. We rose to +follow them, with unsteady steps, as if intoxicated with joy. Oh, who +can describe what I experienced, as I felt the weight of her pliant but +exhausted frame hanging delightfully on my arm, as though she wished to +feel, and make me feel, that I was henceforward her only support in +weakness, her only trust in sorrow, the only link by which she held to +earth! Methinks I hear even now, though fifteen years have passed since +that hour, the sound of the dry leaves as they rustled beneath our +tread; I see our two long shadows blended into one, which the sun cast +on the left side on the grass of the orchard, and which seemed, like a +living shroud tracking the steps of youth and love, to develop them +before their time. I feel the gentle warmth of her shoulder against my +heart, and the touch of one of the tresses of her hair, which the wind +of the lake waved against my face, and which my lips strove to retain +and to kiss. O Time, what eternities of joy thou buriest in one such +minute, or rather, how powerless art thou against memory; how impotent +to give forgetfulness! + + + + +XXI. + + +The evening was as warm and peaceful as the preceding day had been cold +and stormy. The mountains were bathed in a soft purple light which made +them appear larger and more distant than usual, and they seemed like +huge floating shadows through whose transparency one could perceive the +warm sky of Italy which lay beyond. The sky was mottled with small +crimson clouds, like the ensanguined plumes which fall from the wing of +the wounded swan, struggling in the grasp of an eagle. + +The wind had subsided as evening came on; the silvery rippling waves +threw a slight fringe of spray around the rocks, from which the +dripping branches of the fig-trees depended. The smoke from the +cottages, which lay scattered on the Mont du Chat, rose here and there, +and crept upward along the mountain sides, while the cascades fell into +the ravines below, like a smoke of waters. The waves of the lake were +so transparent, that as we leaned over the side of the boat, we could +see the reflection of the oars and of our own faces, and so warm, that +as we drew our fingers through them, we felt but a voluptuous caress of +the waters. We were separated from the boatmen by a small curtain, as +in the gondolas of Venice. She was lying on one of the benches of the +boat, as on a couch, with her elbow resting upon a cushion; she was +enveloped in shawls to protect her from the damp of evening, and my +cloak was placed in several folds upon her feet; her face, at times in +shade, was at others illumined by the last rosy tints of the sun, which +seemed suspended over the dark firs of the Grande Chartreuse. I was +lying on a heap of nets at the bottom of the boat; my heart was full, +my lips were mute, my eyes were fixed on hers. What need had we to +speak, when the sun, the hour, the mountains, the air and water, the +voluptuous balancing of the boat, the light ripple of the murmuring +waters as we divided them, our looks, our silence, and our hearts, +which beat in unison,--all spoke so eloquently for us? We rather seemed +to fear instinctively that the least sound of voice or words would jar +discordantly on such enchanting silence. We seemed to glide from the +azure of the lake to the azure of the horizon, without seeing the +shores we left, or the shores on which we were about to land. + +I heard one longer and more deep-drawn sigh fall slowly from her lips, +as though her bosom, oppressed by some secret weight, had at one breath +exhaled the aspirations of a long life. I felt alarmed. "Are you in +pain?" I inquired, sadly. "No," she said; "it was not pain, it was +thought." "What were you thinking of so intensely?" I rejoined. "I was +thinking," she answered, "that if God were at this instant to strike +all nature with immobility; if the sun were to remain thus, its disk +half hidden behind those dark firs, which seem the fringed lashes of +the eye of heaven; if light and shade remained thus blended in the +atmosphere, this lake in its same transparency, this air as balmy, +these two shores forever at the same distance from this boat, the same +ray of ethereal light on your brow, the same look of pity reflected +from your eyes in mine, this same fulness of joy in my heart,--I should +comprehend what I have never comprehended since I first began to think, +or to dream." "What?" said I, anxiously. "Eternity in one instant, and +the Infinite in one sensation!" she exclaimed, half leaning over the +edge of the boat, as if to look at the water and to spare me the +embarrassment of an answer. I was awkward enough to reply by some +commonplace phrase of vulgar gallantry, which unfortunately rose to my +lips, instead of the chaste and ineffable adoration which inundated my +heart. It was something to the effect that such happiness would not +suffice me, if it were not the promise of another and a greater +felicity. She understood me but too well, and blushed, on my account +rather than her own. She turned to me with all the emotion of profaned +purity depicted on her face, and in accents as tender, but more solemn +and heartfelt than any that had yet fallen from her lips: "You have +given me pain," she said in a low voice; "come hither, nearer to me, +and listen; I know not if what I feel for you, and what you appear to +feel for me, be what is termed love, in the obscure and confused +language of this world in which the same words serve to express +feelings that bear no resemblance to each other, save in the sound they +yield upon the lips of man. I do not wish to know it; and you--oh, I +beseech you, never seek to know it! But this I know, that it is the +most supreme and entire happiness that the soul of one created being +can draw from the soul, the eyes, and the voice of another being like +to herself, of a being who till now was wanting to her happiness, and +of whom she completes the existence. Besides this boundless happiness, +this mutual response of thought to thought, of heart to heart, of soul +to soul, which blends them in one indivisible existence, and makes them +as inseparable as the ray of yonder setting sun, and the beam of yonder +rising moon, when they meet in this same sky, and ascend in mingled +light in the same ether--is there another joy, gross image of the one I +feel, as far removed from the eternal and immaterial union of our souls +as dust is from these stars, or a minute from eternity? I know not! and +I will not, cannot know!" she added in a tone of disdainful sadness. +"But," she resumed, with a confiding look and attitude, which seemed to +make her wholly mine, "what do words signify? I love you! All nature +would say it for me, if I did not; or rather, let me proclaim it first, +for both: We love each other!" + +"Oh, say, say it once more, say it a thousand times," I exclaimed, +rising like a madman, and walking backwards and forwards in the boat, +which shook beneath my feet. "Let us say it together, say it to God and +man, say it to heaven and earth, say it to the mute, unheeding +elements! Say it eternally, and let all nature repeat it eternally with +us!" ... I fell on my knees before her, with my hands clasped, and my +disordered hair falling over my face. "Be calm," she said, placing her +fingers on my lips, "and let me speak without interruption to the end." +I sat down and remained silent. + +"I have said," she resumed, "or rather I have not said, I have called +out to you from the depths of my soul, that I love you! I love with all +the accumulated power of the expectations, dreams, and impatient +longings of a sterile life of eight-and-twenty years, passed in +watching and not seeing, in seeking and not finding, what some +presentiment taught me to expect, and you have revealed to me. But, +alas, I have known and loved you too late, if you understand love as +most men do, and as you seemed to comprehend it, when you spoke just +now, those light and profane words. Listen to me once more," she added, +"and understand me; I am yours, wholly yours. I belong to you as I do +to myself, and I may say so without wronging the adoptive father, who +never considered me but as a daughter. I am wholly yours, and of myself +I only keep back what you wish me to retain. Do not be surprised at +this language, which is not that of the women of Europe; they love and +are beloved tamely, and would fear to weaken the sentiments they +inspire by avowing a secret that they wish to have wrested from them. I +differ from them by my country, by my feelings, and by my education. I +have lived with a philosopher in the society of free-thinkers, +unshackled by the belief and observances of the religion they have +undermined, and have none of the superstitions, weaknesses and scruples +which make ordinary women bow before another judge than their +conscience. The God of their childhood is not my God. I believe in the +God who has written his symbol in Nature, his law in our hearts, his +morality in our reason. Reason, feeling and conscience are the only +Revelation in which I believe. Neither of these oracles of my life +forbid me to be yours, and the impulse of my whole soul would cast me +into your arms, if you could only be happy at that price. But shall you +or I place our happiness in a fugitive delirium of the senses, which +cannot give half the enjoyment that its voluntary renunciation would +afford our hearts? Shall we not more fully believe in the immateriality +and eternity of our love, if it remains, like a pure thought, in those +regions which are inaccessible to change and death, than if it were +degraded and profaned by unworthy delights? If ever," she added, after +a short silence, and blushing deeply, "if ever, in a moment of frenzy +and incredulity, you exacted from me such a proof of abnegation, the +sacrifice would not only be one of dignity, but of existence; in +robbing my love of its innocency, you would rob me of life; when you +thought to embrace happiness, you would clasp only death in your arms; +I am but a shade, and in one sigh I may exhale my soul!..." + +We remained silent for some time. At last, with a deep-drawn sigh, I +said, "I understand you, and in my heart I had sworn the eternal +innocency of my love, before you had done speaking, or required it of +me." + + + + +XXII. + + +My resigned tone seemed to delight her, and to redouble the confiding +charm of her manner. Night had spread over all, the stars glassed +themselves in the lake, and the silence of Nature lulled the earth to +rest. The winds, the trees and waves were hushed, to let us listen to +all the fugitive impressions of feeling and of thought that whisper in +the hearts of the happy. The boatmen sang snatches of their drawling +and monotonous chants, which seem like the noted modulations of the +waves on the shore. I was reminded of her voice, which seemed ever to +sound in my ear, and I exclaimed, "Oh, that you would mark this +enchanting night for me, by some sweet tones addressed to these winds +and waves, so that they may be forever full of you!" I made a sign to +the boatmen to be silent, and to stifle the sound of their oars, from +which the drops came trickling back into the lake like a musical +accompaniment of silvery notes. She sang a Scotch ballad, half naval +and half pastoral, in which a young girl, whose sailor lover has left +her to seek wealth beyond the seas, relates how her parents, wearied of +waiting his return, had induced her to marry an old man, with whom she +might have been happy, but for the remembrance of her early love. The +ballad begins thus: + + "When the sheep are in the fauld and the ky at hame, + And a' the weary warld to rest are gane, + The waes of my heart fa' in showers frae my e'e, + While my gude-man lies sound by me." + + +After each verse there is a long revery, sung in vague notes, without +words, which lulls the heart with unspeakable melancholy, and brings +tears into the eyes and voice. Each succeeding verse takes up the story +in the dull and distant tone of memory, weeping, regretting, yet +resigned. If the Greek strophes of Sappho are the very fire of love, +these Scotch notes are the very life's blood and tears of a heart +stricken to death by Fate. I know not who wrote the music, but whoever +he may be, thanks be to him for having found in a few notes, and in the +mournful melody of a voice, the expression of infinite human sadness. I +have never since then heard the first measures of that air without +flying from it as one pursued by a spirit; and when I wish to soften my +heart by a tear, I sing within myself the plaintive burden of that +song, and feel ready to weep,--I, who never weep! + + + + +XXIII. + + +We reached the little mole that stretches out into the lake where the +boats are moored; it is the harbor of Aix, and is situated at about +half a league from the town. It was midnight, and there were no longer +any carriages or donkeys on the pier to convey strangers to the town. +The distance was too great for a delicate suffering woman to walk, and +after knocking fruitlessly at the doors of one or two cottages in the +vicinity of the lake, the boatmen proposed carrying the lady to Aix. +They cheerfully slipped their oars from the rings which fastened them +to the boat, and tied them together with the ropes of their nets; then +they placed one of the cushions of the boat on these ropes, and thus +formed a soft and flexible kind of litter for the stranger. Four of +them then took up the oars, and each placing one end on his shoulder, +they set off with the palanquin, to which they imparted no other motion +than that of their steps. I would have wished to have my share in the +pleasure of bearing their precious burden, but was repulsed by them +with jealous eagerness. I walked beside the litter with my right hand +in hers, so that she might cling to me when the movement of her +conveyance was too rough. I thus prevented her slipping off the narrow +cushion on which she was stretched. We walked in this manner slowly and +silently in the moonlight down the long avenue of poplars. Oh, how +short that avenue seemed to me, and how I wished that it could have led +us on thus to the last step of both our lives! She did not speak, and I +said nothing, but I felt the whole weight of her body trustingly +suspended to my arm; I felt both her cold hands clasp mine, and from +time to time an involuntary pressure, or a warmer breath upon them, +made me feel that she had approached her lips to my hand to warm it. +Never was silence so eloquent in its mute revealings. We enjoyed the +happiness of a century in one hour. By the time we arrived at the old +doctor's house, and had deposited the invalid at her chamber door, the +whole world that lay between us had disappeared. My hand was wet with +her tears; I dried them with my lips, and threw myself without +undressing on my bed. + + + + +XXIV. + + +In vain I tossed and turned on my pillow; I could not sleep. The +thousand impressions of the preceding days were traced so vividly on my +mind that I could not believe they were past, and I seemed to hear and +see over again all I had seen or heard the previous day. The fever of +my soul had extended to my body. I rose and laid down again without +finding repose. At last I gave it up. I tried by bodily motion to calm +the agitation of my mind; I opened the window, turned over the leaves +of books which I did not understand as I read them, paced up and down, +and changed the position of my table and my chair a dozen times, +without finding a place where I could bear to spend the night. All this +noise was heard in the adjoining room; and my steps disturbed the poor +invalid, who, doubtless, was as wakeful as I was. I heard a light step +on the creaking floor approach the bolted oak door which separated her +sitting-room from my bedroom; I listened with my ear close to the door, +and heard a suppressed breathing, and the rustle of a silk gown against +the wall. The light of a lamp shone through the chinks of the door, and +streamed from beneath it on my floor. It was she! she was there +listening too, with her ear perhaps close to my brow; she might have +heard my heart beat. "Are you ill?" whispered a voice, which I should +have recognized by a single sigh. "No," I answered, "but I am too +happy! Excess of joy is as exciting as excess of anguish. The fever I +feel is one of life; I do not wish to dispel it, or to fly from it, but +I am sitting up to enjoy it." "Child that you are!" she said, "go and +sleep while I watch; it is now my turn to watch over you." "But you," +whispered I, "why are you not sleeping?" "I never wish to sleep more," +she replied; "I would not lose one minute of the consciousness of my +overwhelming bliss. I have but little time in which to enjoy my +happiness, and do not like to give any portion of it to forgetfulness +in sleep. I came to sit here in the hopes of hearing you, or at any +rate to feel nearer to you." "Oh, why still so far?" I murmured. "Why +so far? Why is this wall between us?" "Is there only this door between +us then," she said, "and not our will and our vow? There! if you are +only restrained by this material obstacle, it is removed!" and I heard +her withdraw the bolt on her side. "Yes," she continued, "if there be +not in you some feeling stronger than love itself to subdue and master +your passion, you can pass. Yes," she added with an accent at once more +solemn and more impassioned, "I will owe nothing but to yourself,--you +may pass; you will meet with love equal to your own, but such love +would be my death...." + +I was overcome by the violence of my feelings, the impetuous impulse of +my heart that impelled me towards that voice, and the moral violence +that repulsed me; and I fell as one mortally wounded on the threshold +of that closed door. As to her, I heard her sit down on a cushion which +she had taken from a sofa, and thrown on the floor. During the greater +part of the night we continued to converse in a low tone, through the +intervals between the floor and the rough wood-work of the door. Who +can describe the outpourings of our hearts, the words unused in the +ordinary language of men that seemed to be wafted like night-dreams +between heaven and earth, and were interrupted by silence in which our +hearts and not our lips communed revealed their unutterable thoughts? +At length the intervals of silence became longer, the voices grew +faster and, overcome with fatigue, I fell asleep, with my hand clasped +on my knees, and my cheek leaning against the wall. + + + + +XXV. + + +The sun was already high in the heavens when I woke, and my room was +flooded with light. The redbreasts were chirping and pecking at the +vines and currant bushes beneath my windows; all nature seemed to be +illumined and adorned and to have awakened before me, to usher in and +welcome this first day of my new life. All the sounds and noises in the +house seemed joyful as I was. I heard the light steps of the maid who +went and came in the passage to carry breakfast to her mistress, the +childish voices of the little girls of the mountains who brought +flowers from the edge of the glaciers, and the tinkling bells and +stamping hoofs of the mules which were waiting in the yard to carry her +to the lake or to the mountain. I changed my soiled and dusty clothes, +I bathed my red and swollen eyes, smoothed my disordered hair, put on +my leather gaiters, like a chamois hunter of the Alps, and taking my +gun in hand, I went down to join the old doctor and his family at the +breakfast-table. + +At breakfast they talked of the storm on the lake, of the danger in +which the stranger had been, her fainting at Haute-Combe, her absence +during two days, and my good fortune in having met with her and brought +her home. I begged the doctor to request for me the favor of inquiring +in person after her health, and accompanying her in her excursions. He +came down again with her; she looked lovelier and more interesting than +ever, and happiness seemed to have given her fresh youth. She enchanted +every one, but she looked only at me. I alone understood her looks and +words with their double meaning. The guides lifted her joyfully on the +seat with the swinging foot-board, which serves as a saddle for the +women of Savoy; and I walked beside the mule with the tinkling bells +which was that day to carry her to the highest chalets of the mountain. + +We passed the whole day there, but we scarcely spoke, so well did we +already understand each other without words. Sometimes we stood +contemplating the cheerful valley of Chambery which appeared to widen +as we mounted higher; or we loitered on the edge of cascades, whose +sun-tinted vapors enveloped us in watery rainbows that seemed to be the +mysterious halo of our love; or we would gather the latest flowers of +earth on the sloping meadows before the chalets, and exchange them +between us, as the letters of the fragrant alphabet of Nature, +intelligible to us alone; or we gathered chestnuts which we brought +home to roast at night by her fire; or we sat under shelter of the +highest chalets which were already abandoned by their owners, and +thought how happy two beings like ourselves might be, confined by fate +to one of these deserted huts, made from rough boards and trunks of +trees,--so near the stars, so near the murmuring winds, the snows and +glaciers, but divided from man by solitude, and sufficing to each other +during a life filled with one thought and but one feeling! + + + + +XXVI. + + +In the evening we came down slowly from the mountain with saddened +looks, as though we had been leaving our domains and happiness behind +us. She retired to her apartment, and I remained below to sup with our +host and his guests. After supper I knocked, as had been agreed upon, +at her door; she received me as she might a friend of childhood after a +long absence. Henceforward I spent all my days and all my evenings in +the same manner; I generally found her reclining on a sofa with a white +cover, which was placed in a corner between the fireplace and the +window; upon a small table on which stood a brass lamp there were some +books, the letters she had received or commenced during the day, a +little common tea-pot,--which she gave me when she went away, and which +has always stood upon my chimney since,--and two cups of blue and pink +china, in which we used to take tea at midnight. The old doctor would +sometimes go up with me, to chat with his fair patient; but after half +an hour's conversation, the good old man would find out that my +presence went further than his advice or his baths to re-establish the +health that was so precious to us all, and would leave us to our books +and conversation. At midnight, I kissed the hand she extended to me +across the table, and went to my own room; but I never retired to rest +until all was silent in hers. + + + + +XXVII. + + +We led this delightful, twofold life during six long or short weeks; +long, when I call to mind the numberless palpitations of joy in our +hearts, but short, when I remember the imperceptible rapidity of the +hours that filled them. By a miracle of Providence, which does not +occur once in ten years, the season seemed to connive at our happiness, +and to conspire with us to prolong it. The whole month of October, and +half of November, seemed like a new but leafless spring; the air was +still soft, the waters blue, the clouds were rosy, and the sun shone +brightly. The days were shorter, it is true, but the long evenings +spent beside her fire drew us closer together; they made us more +exclusively present to each other, and prevented our looks and hearts +from evaporating amid the splendor of external nature. We loved them +better than the long summer days. Our light was within us, and it shone +more brightly when we confined ourselves to the house during the long +darkness of November evenings, with the moaning of the autumnal winds +around us, and the first rattling of the sleet and hail against the +windows. The wintry rain seemed to throw us back upon ourselves, and to +cry aloud: Hasten to say all that is yet untold in your hearts, and all +that must be spoken before man and woman die, for I am the voice of the +evil days that are near at hand to part you! + + + + +XXVIII. + + +We visited together, in succession, every creek and cove, or sandy +beach of the lake, every mountain pass or ridge; every grotto or remote +valley; every cascade hidden among the rocks of Savoy. We saw more +sublime or smiling landscapes, more mysterious solitudes, more +enchanted deserts, more cottages hanging on the mountain brow half-way +between the clouds and the abyss, more foaming waters in the sloping +meadows, more forests of dark pines disclosing their gloomy colonnades +and echoing our steps beneath their domes, than might have hidden a +whole world of lovers. To each of these we gave a sigh, a rapture, or a +blessing; we implored them to preserve the memory of the hours we had +passed together, of the thoughts they had inspired, the air they had +given us, the drop of water we had drunk in the hollow of our hands, +the leaf or flower we had gathered, the print of our footsteps on the +dewy grass, and to give them back to us one day with the particle of +existence that we had left there as we passed; so that nought might be +lost of the bliss that overflowed within us, and that we might receive +back each minute of ecstasy, or emanation of ourselves, in that +faithful treasure house of Eternity, where nothing is lost, not even +the breath we have just exhaled, or the minute we think we have lost. +Never, perhaps, since the creation of these lakes, these torrents, and +these rocks, did such tender and fervent hymns ascend from these +mountains to Heaven! There was in our souls life and love enough to +animate all nature, earth, air, and water, rocks and trees, cedar and +hyssop, and to make them give forth sighs, aspirations, voice, perfume, +and flame enough to fill the whole sanctuary of Nature, even if more +vast and mute than the desert in which we wandered. Had a globe been +created for ourselves alone, we alone would have sufficed to people and +to quicken it, to give it voice and language, praise and love for all +eternity! And who shall say that the human soul is not infinite? Who, +beside the woman he adores, before the face of Nature, and beneath the +eye of God, e'er felt the limits of existence, or of his power of life +and love? O Love! the base may fear thee, and the wicked proscribe +thee! Thou art the high priest of this world, the revealer of +Immortality, the fire of the altar; and without thy ray man would not +even dimly comprehend Eternity! + + + + +XXIX. + + +These six weeks were to me as a baptism of fire which transfigured my +soul, and cleansed it of all the impurities with which it had been +stained. Love was the torch which, while it fired my heart, enlightened +all nature, heaven, and earth, and showed me to myself. I understood +the nothingness of this world when I felt how it vanished before a +single spark of true life. I loathed myself as I looked back into the +past, and compared it with the purity and perfection of the one I +loved. I entered into the heaven of my soul, as my heart and eyes +fathomed the ocean of beauty, tenderness, and purity which expanded +hourly in the eyes, in the voice, and in the discourse, of the heavenly +creature who had manifested herself to me. How often did I kneel before +her, my head bowed to the earth in the attitude and with the feeling of +adoration! How often did I beseech her, as I would a being of another +order, to cleanse me in her tears, absorb me in her flame, or to inhale +me in her breath,--so that nothing of myself should be left in me, save +the purifying water with which she had cleansed me, the flame that had +consumed me, or the new breath that she had infused into my new being; +so that I might become her, or she might become me, and that God +himself in calling us to him should not distinguish or divide what the +miracle of love had transformed and mingled!... Oh, if you have a +brother or a son, who has never understood virtue, pray that he may +love as I did! As long as he loves thus, he will be capable of every +sacrifice or heroic devotion to equal the ideal of his love; and when +he no longer loves, he will still retain in his soul a remembrance of +celestial delights, which will make him turn with disgust from the +waters of vice, and his eye will be often secretly uplifted towards the +pure spring at which he once knelt to drink. I cannot tell the feeling +of salutary shame which oppressed me in the presence of the one I +loved; but her reproaches were so tender, her looks so gentle, though +penetrating, her pardon so divine, that in humbling myself before her I +did not feel myself abased, but rather raised and dignified. I almost +mistook for my own and inward light, what was only the reverberation in +me of her splendor and purity. Involuntarily I compared her to all the +other women I had approached, except Antonina, who appeared to me like +Julie in her artless infancy; and save my mother, whom she resembled in +her virtue and maturity, no woman in my eyes could bear the slightest +comparison. A single look of hers seemed to throw all my past life into +shade. Her discourse revealed to me depths of feelings and refinements +of passion, which transported me into unknown regions, where I seemed +to breathe for the first time the native air of my own thoughts. All +the levity, fickleness, and vanity, the aridity, irony, and bitterness, +of the evil days of my youth, disappeared, and I scarcely recognized +myself. When I left her presence I felt myself good, and thought myself +pure. Once more I felt enthusiasm, prayer, inward piety, and the warm +tears which flow not from the eyes, but well out like a secret spring +from beneath our apparent aridity, and cleanse the heart without +enervating it. I vowed never to descend from the celestial but by no +means giddy heights to which I had been raised by her tender +reproaches, her voice, her single presence. It was as a second +innocence of my soul, imparted by the rays of the eternal innocence of +her love. + +I could not say whether there was most piety, or fascination in the +impression I received, so much did passion and adoration mingle in +equal portions, and in my thoughts change, a thousand times in one +minute, love into worship, or worship into love. Oh, is not that the +height, the very pinnacle of love,--enthusiasm in the possession of +perfect beauty, and rapture in supreme adoration?... All she had said +seemed to me eternal; all she had looked on appeared to me sacred. I +envied the earth on which she had trodden; the sunshine which had +enveloped her during our walks appeared to me happy to have touched +her. I would have wished to abstract and separate forever from the +liquid plains of air, the air that she had sanctified in breathing it; +I would have enclosed the empty place that she had just ceased to fill +in space, so that no inferior creature should occupy it, so long as the +world should last. In a word, I saw and felt, I worshipped God himself, +through the medium of my love. If life were to last in such a condition +of the soul, Nature would stand still, the blood would cease to +circulate, the heart forget to beat, or rather, there would be neither +motion, precipitation, nor lassitude, neither life, nor death, in our +senses; there would be only one endless and living absorption of our +being in another's, such as must be the state of the soul at once +annihilated and living in God. + + + + +XXX. + + +Oh, joy! the vile desires of sensual passion were annulled (as she had +wished) in the full possession of each other's soul, and happiness, as +happiness ever does, made me feel better and more pious than I had ever +been. God and my love were so mingled in my heart, that my adoration of +her became a perpetual adoration of the Supreme Being who had created +her. During the day, when we loitered on the sloping hills or on the +borders of the lake, or sat on the root of some tree in a sunny lawn, +to rest, to gaze, and to admire, our conversation would often, from the +natural overflowing of two full hearts, tend towards that fathomless +abyss of all thought,--the Infinite! and towards Him who alone can fill +infinite space,--God! When I pronounced this last word, with the +heartfelt gratitude which reveals so much in one single accent, I was +surprised to see her averted looks, or remark on her brow and in the +corners of her mouth a trace of sad and painful incredulity, which +seemed to me in contradiction with our enthusiasm. One day, I asked +her, timidly, the reason. "It is that that word gives me pain," she +answered. "And how," said I, "how can the word that comprehends all +life, all love, and all goodness give pain to the most perfect of God's +creations?" "Alas!" she said with the tone of a despairing soul, "that +word represents the idea of a Being, whose existence I have +passionately desired might not be a dream; and yet that Being," she +added in a low and mournful tone, "in my eyes, and in those of the +sages whose lessons I have received, is but the most marvellous and +unreal delusion of our thoughts." "What!" said I, "your teachers do not +believe there is a God? But you, who love, how can you disbelieve? Does +not every throb of our hearts proclaim Him?" "Oh," she answered +hastily, "do not interpret as folly the wisdom of those men who have +uplifted for me the veils of philosophy, and have caused the broad day +of reason and of science to shine before my eyes, instead of the pale +and glimmering lamp with which Superstition lights the voluntary +darkness, that she wilfully casts around her childish divinity. It is +in the God of your mother and my nurse that I no longer believe, and +not the God of Nature and of Science. I believe in a Being who is the +Principle and Cause, spring and end of all other beings, or rather, who +is himself the eternity, form, and law of all those beings, visible or +invisible, intelligent or unintelligent, animate or inanimate, quick or +dead, of which is composed the only real name of this Being of beings, +the Infinite. But the idea of the incommensurable greatness, the +sovereign fatality, the inflexible and absolute necessity of all the +acts of this Being, whom you call God and we term Law, excludes from +our thoughts all precise intelligibility, exact denomination, +reasonable imagining, personal manifestation, revelation, or +incarnation, and the idea of any possible relation between that Being +and ourselves, even of homage and of prayer. Wherefore should the +Consequence pray to the Cause? + +"It is a cruel thought," she added; "for how many blessings, prayers, +and tears I should have poured out at His feet since I have loved you! +But," she resumed, "I surprise and pain you; pray forgive me. Is not +truth the first of virtues, if virtue there be? On this single point we +cannot agree; let us never speak of it. You have been brought up by a +pious mother, in the midst of a Christian family, and have inhaled with +your first breath the holy credulity of your home. You have been led by +the hand into the temples; you have been shown images, mysteries, and +altars; you have been taught prayers and told, God is here, who listens +and will answer you; and you believed, for you were not of an age to +inquire. Since then, you have discarded these baubles of your +childhood, to conceive a less feminine and less puerile God, than this +God of the Christian tabernacles; but the first dazzling glare has not +departed from your eyes; the real light that you have thought to see +has been blended, unknown to yourself, with that false brightness which +fascinated you on your entrance into life; you have retained two +weaknesses of intelligence,--mystery and prayer. There is no mystery" +she said, in a more solemn tone; "there is only reason, which dispels +all mystery! It is man, crafty or credulous man, who invented +mystery,--God made reason! And prayer does not exist," she continued +mournfully, "for an inflexible law will not relent, and a necessary law +cannot be changed. + +"The ancients, with that profound wisdom which was often hidden beneath +their popular ignorance, knew that full well," she added; "for they +prayed to all the gods of their invention, but they never implored the +supreme law,--Destiny." + +She was silent. "It appears to me," I said after a long pause, "that +the teachers who have instilled their wisdom into you have too much +subordinated the feeling to the reasoning Being, in their theory of the +relation of God to man; in a word, they have overlooked the heart in +man,--the heart which is the organ of love, as intelligence is the +organ of thought. The imaginings of man in respect of God may be +puerile and mistaken, but his instincts, which are his unwritten law, +must be sometimes right; if not, Nature would have lied in creating +him. You do not think Nature a lie," I said smiling,--"you, who said +just now that truth was perhaps the only virtue? Now, whatever may have +been the intention of God in giving those two instincts, mystery and +prayer, whether he meant thereby to show that he was the +incomprehensible God, and that his name was Mystery; or that he desired +that all creatures should give him honor and praise, and that prayer +should be the universal incense of nature,--it is most certain that +man, when he thinks on God, feels within him two instincts, mystery and +adoration. Reason's province," I pursued, "is to enlighten and disperse +mystery, more and more every day, but never to dispel it entirely. +Prayer is the natural desire of the heart to pour forth unceasingly its +supplications, efficacious or not, heard or unheard, as a precious +perfume on the feet of God. What matters it if the perfume fall to the +ground, or whether it anoint the feet of God? It is always a tribute of +weakness, humility, and adoration. + +"But who can say that it is ever lost?" I added in the tone of one +whose hopes triumph over his doubts; "who can say that prayer, the +mysterious communication with invisible Omnipotence, is not in reality +the greatest of all the natural or supernatural powers of man? Who can +say that the supreme and immortal Will has not ordained from all +eternity that prayer should be continually inspired and heard, and that +man should thus, by his invocations, participate in the ordering of his +own destiny? Who knows whether God, in his love, and perpetual blessing +on the beings which emanate from him, has not established this bond +with them, as the invisible chain which links the thoughts of all +worlds to his? Who knows but that, in his majestic solitude which he +peoples alone, he has willed that this living murmur, this continual +communing with nature, should ascend and descend continually in all +space from him to all the beings that he vivifies and loves, and from +those beings to him? At all events, prayer is the highest privilege of +man, since it allows him to speak to God. If God were deaf to our +prayers, we should still pray; for if in his majesty he would not hear +us, still prayer would dignify man." + +I saw that my reasonings touched without convincing her, and that the +springs of her soul, which science had dried up, had not yet flowed +towards God. But love was to soften her religion as it had softened her +heart; the delights and anguish of passion were soon to bring forth +adoration and prayer, those two perfumes of the souls that burn and +languish. The one is full of rapture; the other full of tears,--both +are divine! + + + + +XXXI. + + +In the meantime her health improved daily. Happiness, solitude with a +beloved companion (that paradise of tender souls), and the daily +discovery on her part of some new mystery of thought in me which +corresponded to her own nature; the autumnal air in the mountains, +which, like stoves heated during summer, preserve the warmth of the sun +until the winter snows; our distant excursions to the chalets, or on +the waters; the motion of the boat, or the gentle pace of the mules; +the milk brought frothing from the pastures in the wooden cups the +shepherds carve; and above all, the gentle excitement, the peaceful +revery, the continual infatuation of a heart which first love upheld as +with wings and led on from thought to thought, from dream to dream, +through a new-found heaven,--all seemed to contribute visibly to her +recovery. Every day seemed to bring fresh youth; it was as a +convalescence of the soul which showed itself on the features. Her +face, which had been at first slightly marked round the eyes with those +dark and bluish tints which seem like the impress of the fingers of +Death, gradually recovered the roundness of the cheek, the mantling +blood, the soft down, and blooming complexion of a young girl who has +been on the mountains, and whose cheek has been visited by the first +cold bracing winds from the glaciers. Her lips had recovered their +fulness, her eyes their brightness; the lid no longer drooped, and the +eye itself seemed to swim in that continual and luminous mist which +rises like a vapor from the burning heart, and is condensed into tears +on the eye, whose fire absorbs these tears, that always rise, and never +flow. There was more strength in her attitudes, more pliancy in her +movements; her step was light and lively as a child's. Whenever we +entered the yard of the house on our return from our rambles, the old +doctor and his family would express their surprise at the prodigious +change that a day had wrought in her appearance, and wonder at the life +and light that she seemed to shed around her. + +In truth, happiness seemed to encompass her with a radiant atmosphere, +in which she not only walked herself, but enveloped all those who +looked upon her. This radiance of beauty, this atmosphere of love, are +not, as many think, only the fancies of a poet; the poet merely sees +more distinctly what escapes the blind or indifferent eye of other men. +It has often been said of a lovely woman, that she illumines the +darkness of night; it might be said of Julie that she warmed the +surrounding air. I lived and moved, enveloped in this warm emanation of +her reviving beauty; others but felt it as they passed. + + + + +XXXII. + + +When I was obliged to leave her for a short time, and returned to my +room, I felt, even at mid-day, as if I had been immured in a dungeon +without air or light. The brightest sun afforded me no light, unless +its rays were reflected by her eyes. I admired her more, the more I saw +her; and could not believe she was a being of the same order as myself. +The divine nature of her love had become a part of the creed of my +imagination; and in spirit I was ever prostrate before the being who +appeared to me too tender to be a divinity--too divine to be a woman! I +sought a name for her, and found none. I called her Mystery, and under +that vague and indefinite title, offered her worship which partook of +earth by its tenderness, of a dream by its enthusiasm, of reality by +her presence, and of heaven by my adoration. + +She had obliged me to confess that I had sometimes written verses, but +I had never shown her any. She did not much like that artificial and +set form of speech, which, when it does not idealize, generally impairs +the simplicity of feeling and expression. Her nature was too full of +impulse, too feeling, and too serious, to bend itself to all the +precision, form, and delay of written poetry. She was Poetry without a +lyre--true as the heart, simple as the untutored thought, dreamy as +night, brilliant as day, swift as lightning, boundless as space! No +rules of harmony could have bounded the infinite music of her mind; her +very voice was a perpetual melody, that no cadence of verse could have +equalled. Had I lived long with her, I should never have read or +written poetry. She was the living poem of Nature and of myself; my +thoughts were in her heart, my imagery in her eyes, and my harmony in +her voice. + +She had in her room a few volumes of the principal poets of the end of +the eighteenth century, and of the Empire, such as Delille and +Fontanes; but their high-sounding and material poetry was not suited to +us. She had been lulled by the melodious murmur of the waves of the +tropic, and her soul contained treasures of love, imagination, and +melancholy, which all the voices of the air and waters could not have +expressed. She would sometimes attempt with me to read these books, on +the strength of their reputation, but would throw them down again +impatiently; they gave no sound beneath her touch, like those broken +chords which remain voiceless when we strike the keys. The music of her +heart was in mine, but I could never give it forth to the world; and +the verses she was one day to inspire were destined to sound only on +her grave. She never knew before she died whom she had loved. In her +eyes I was her brother, and it would have mattered little to her that I +had been a poet for the rest of the world. Her love saw nothing in me +but myself. + +Only once I involuntarily betrayed before her the poor gift of poetry +that I possessed, and which she neither suspected nor desired in me. My +friend Louis--had come to stay a few days with us. The evening had been +spent till midnight in reading, in confidential talk, in musing, in +sadness, and in smiles. We wondered to see three young lives, which a +short time before were unknown to each other, now united and identified +beneath the same roof, at the same fireside, with the same murmur of +autumnal winds around, in a cottage of the mountains of Savoy; we +strove to foresee by what sport of Providence, or Chance, the stormy +winds of life might scatter or reunite us once more. These distant +vistas of the horizon of our future lives had saddened us, and we +remained silent round the little tea-table on which we were leaning. At +last Louis, who was a poet, felt a mournful inspiration rising in his +heart, and wished to write it down. She gave him paper and a pencil, +and he leaned on the marble chimney-piece and wrote a few stanzas, +plaintive and tearful as the funeral strophes of Gilbert. He resembled +Gilbert, and he might have written those lines of his, which will live +as long as the lamentations of Job, in the language of men: + + Au banquet de la vie, infortune convive, + J'apparus un jour et je meurs; + Je meurs, et sur ma tombe, ou lentement j'arrive, + Nul ne viendra verser des pleurs! + +Louis's verses had affected me; I took the pencil from him, and, +withdrawing for an instant to the end of the room, I wrote in my turn +the following verses, which will die with me unknown to all; they were +the first verses that sprung from my heart, and not from my +imagination. I read them out without daring to raise my eyes to her, to +whom they were addressed. They ran thus-- + + * * * * * + +but, no! I efface them! My love was all my genius, and they have +departed together. + +As I finished reading the verses, I saw on Julie's face, on which the +light of the lamp fell, such a tender expression of surprise and such +superhuman beauty, that I stood uncertain, as my verses had expressed +it, between the woman and the angel,--between love and adoration. This +latter feeling predominated at last in my heart, and in that of my +friend. We fell on our knees before the sofa, and kissed the end of the +black shawl which enveloped her feet. The verses seemed to her merely +an instantaneous and solitary expression of my feelings towards her; +she praised them, but never mentioned them again. She much preferred +our familiar discourse, or even our pensive silence in each other's +company, to these exercises of the mind which profane our feelings +rather than reveal them, Louis left us after a few days. + + + + +XXXIII. + + +In consequence of these first verses of mine, which were but one feeble +strophe of the perpetual hymn of my heart, she requested me to write an +ode for her, which she would address as a tribute of admiration, and as +a specimen of my talents, to one of the men of her Paris acquaintance, +for whom she felt the greatest respect and attachment, M. de Bonald. I +knew nothing of him but his name, and the well-deserved renown that +attached to it as that of a Christian, a philosopher, and a legislator. +I fancied that I was to address a modern Moses, who derived from the +rays of another Mount Sinai the divine light which he shed upon human +laws. I wrote the ode in one night, and read it the next morning, +beneath a spreading chestnut-tree, to her who had inspired it. She made +me read it three times over, and in the evening she copied it with her +light and steady hand. Her writing flew upon the paper like the shadow +of the wings of thought, with the swiftness, elegance, and freedom of a +bird on the wing. The next day she sent it to Paris. M. de Bonald +replied by many obliging auguries respecting my talents. This was the +beginning of my acquaintance with that most excellent man, whose +character I have always admired and loved since, without sharing his +theocratical doctrines. My approval of his creed, of which I knew +nothing, was at that time a concession to my love; at a later period it +would have been an homage rendered to his virtues. M. de Bonald was, +like M. de Maistre, a prophet of the past, one of those men whose ideas +were of bygone days, and to whom we bow with veneration, as we see them +seated on the threshold of futurity; they will not pass onward, but +tarry to listen to the sublime lament of all that dies in the human +mind. + + + + +XXXIV. + + +Autumn was already gone; but the sun shone out now and then between the +clouds and lighted and warmed the mild winter which had succeeded. We +tried to deceive ourselves, and to say that it was still autumn, so +much did we dread to recognize winter, that was to separate us. The +snow sometimes fell in the morning in light flakes on the roses and +everlastings in the garden, like the white down of the swans which we +often saw traversing the air. At noon the snow melted, and then there +were delightful hours on the lake. The last rays of the sun seemed to +be warmer when they played on the waters. The fig-trees which hung from +the rocks exposed to the south, in the sheltered coves, had kept their +wide-spreading leaves; and the reflection of the sun on the rocks +imparted to them the splendid coloring and the warmth of summer +evenings. But these hours glided as swiftly by as the stroke of the +oars which served to take us round the foam-covered rocks that form the +southern border of the lake. The glancing rays of the sun on the +fire-trees; the green moss; the winter birds, more fully feathered and +more familiar than those of summer; the mountain streams, whose white +and frothing waters dashed down the sides of the sloping meadows, and +meeting in some ravine fell with sonorous and splashing murmurs from +the black and shining rocks into the lake; the cadenced sound of the +oar, which seemed to accompany us with its mysterious and plaintive +regrets, like some friendly voice hidden beneath the waters; the +perfect repose we felt in this warm and luminous atmosphere, so near +each other, and separated from the world by an abyss of waters,--gave +us at times so great an enjoyment in the sense of existence, such +fulness of inward joy, such an overflowing of peace and love, that we +might have defied Heaven itself to add to our felicity. But with this +happiness was mixed the consciousness that it was soon to end; each +stroke of the oar resounded in our hearts as one step of the day that +brought us nearer to separation. Who knows whether these trembling +leaves may not to-morrow have fallen in the waters? If this moss on +which we still can sit may not to-morrow be covered with a thick mantle +of snow; if this blue sky, these illumined rocks and sparkling waves, +may not, during the mists of this next night, be enveloped and +confounded in one dim and wintry ocean? + +A long sigh would escape our lips at thoughts like these; but we never +communicated them to each other, for fear of arousing misfortune by +naming it. Oh, who, in the course of his life, has not felt some joy +without security and without a morrow; when life seems concentrated in +one short hour which we would wish to make eternal, and which we feel +slipping away minute by minute, while we listen to the pendulum which +counts the seconds, or look at the hand that seems to gallop o'er the +dial, or watch a carriage-wheel, of which each turn abridges distance, +or hearken to the splashing of a prow that distances the waves, and +brings us nearer to the shore where we must descend from the heaven of +our dreams on the bleak and barren strand of harsh reality. + + + + +XXXV. + + +[Illustration: THE LOVERS' COMPACT.] + + +One sunny evening when our boat lay in a calm and sheltered creek, +formed by the Mont du Chat, and we were delightfully lulled by the +distant sound of a cascade which perpetually murmurs in the grottos +through which it filtrates before losing itself in the abyss of water, +our boatmen landed to draw some nets they had set the day before. We +remained alone in the boat which was moored to the branch of a fig-tree +by a slender rope; the motion of the boat caused the branch to bend and +break without our being aware of it, and we drifted out to the middle +of the bay, nearly three hundred yards from the perpendicular rocks +with which it is surrounded. The waters of the lake in this part were +of that bronzed color and had that molten appearance and look of heavy +immobility which the shade of overhanging cliffs always gives; and the +perpendicular rocks which surrounded it indicated the unfathomable +depth of its waters. I might have taken up the oars and returned to +shore, but we felt a thrill of pleasure at our loneliness and the +absence of any form of living nature. We would have wished to wander +thus on a boundless firmament, instead of on a sea with shores. We no +longer heard the voices of the boatmen who had gone along the Savoy +shore, and were now hidden from our view by some projecting rocks; we +only heard the distant trickling of the cascade, the harmonious sighs +of the pines when some playful breeze swept for an instant through the +still and heavy air, and the low ripple of the water against the sides +of the boat which gently undulated at our slightest movement. + +Our boat lay half in shade and half in sunshine,--the head in sunshine, +and the stern in shade. I was sitting at Julie's feet in the bottom of +the boat, as on the first day when I brought her back from Haute-Combe. +We took delight in calling to remembrance every circumstance of that +first day, that mysterious era from which the world commenced for +us,--for that day was the date of our meeting and of our love! She was +half reclining with one arm hanging over the side of the boat, the +other leaned upon my shoulder, and her hand played with a lock of my +long hair; my head was thrown back, so that I could only see the +heavens above and her face, which stood out on the blue background of +the sky. She bent over me, as if to contemplate her sun on my brow, her +light in my eyes; an expression of deep, calm, and ineffable happiness +was diffused over her features, and gave to her beauty a radiance and +splendor which was in harmony with the surrounding glory of the sky. +Suddenly I saw her turn pale and withdraw her arms from the side of the +boat and from my shoulder; she started up as if awaked from sleep, +covered for one instant her face with her two hands, and remained in +deep and silent thought; then withdrawing her hands, which were wet +with tears, she said, in a tone of calm and serene determination, "Oh, +let us die! ..." + +After these words she remained silent for an instant, then resumed: +"Yes, let us die, for earth has nothing more to give, and Heaven +nothing more to promise!" She gazed at the sky and mountain, the lake +and its translucid waves around us. "Seest thou," she said (it was the +first and the last time that she ever used that form of speech which is +tender or solemn, according as we address God or man),--"seest thou +that all is ready around us for the blessed close of our two lives? +Seest thou the sun of the brightest of our days which sets, not to rise +for us perhaps to-morrow? Seest thou the mountains glass themselves for +the last time in the lake? They stretch out their long shadows towards +us, as if to say, Wrap yourselves in this shroud which I extend towards +you! See! the deep and clear, the silent waves have prepared for us a +sandy couch from which no man shall wake us and tell us to be gone! No +human eye can see us. None will know from what mysterious cause the +empty bark has been washed ashore upon some rock. No ripple on these +waters will betray to the curious or the indifferent the spot where our +two bodies slid beneath the wave, in one embrace; where our two souls +rose mingled in the surrounding ether; no sound of earth will follow +us, but the slight ripple of the closing wave!... Oh, let us die in +this delight of soul, and feel of death only its entrancing joy. One +day we shall wish to die, and we shall die less happy. I am a few years +older than you, and this difference which is unfelt now will increase +with time. The little beauty which has attracted you will early fade, +and you will only recall with wonder the memory of your departed +enthusiasm. Besides, I am to you but as a spirit; ... you will seek +another happiness; ... I should die of jealousy if you found it with +another, ... and I should die of grief, if I saw you unhappy through +me!... Oh, let us die, let us die! Let us efface the dark or doubtful +future with one last sigh, which will only leave on our lips the +unallayed taste of complete felicity." + +At the same moment my heart spoke to me as forcibly as she did, and +said what her voice said to my ear, what her looks said to my eyes, +what solemn, mute, funereal Nature in the splendor of her last hour, +said to all my senses. The two voices that I heard, the inward and the +outer voice, said the same words, as if one had been the echo or +translation of the other. I forgot the universe, and I answered, "Let +us die!" + + * * * * * + +I wound the fisherman's ropes which I found in the boat several times +round her body and mine, which were bound as in the same winding sheet. +I took her up in my arms, which I had left disengaged in order to +precipitate her with me into the lake. + +At the very instant that I was taking the spring which would forever +have buried us in the waters, I saw her turn pale, her head drooped, +its lifeless weight sank upon my shoulder, and I felt her knees give +way beneath her body. Excessive emotion and the joy of dying together +had forestalled death. She had fainted in my arms. The idea of taking +advantage of her insensible state to hurry her, unknown to herself, and +perhaps against her will, into my grave, struck me with horror. I fell +back into the boat with my burden; I loosed the ropes that bound us, +and laid her on the seat; I dipped my hands into the lake and sprinkled +the cold drops of water on her lips and forehead. I know not how long +she remained thus without color, voice, or motion. When she first +opened her eyes and regained consciousness, night was coming on, and +the slow drift of the boat had carried us into the middle of the lake. + +"God wills it not," I said. "We live; what we thought the privilege of +our love was a double crime. Is there no one to whom we belong on +earth? No one in heaven?" I added looking upwards reverentially, as +though I had seen in the firmament the sovereign Judge and Lord of our +destinies. "Speak no more of it," she said in a low and hurried tone; +"never speak of it again! You have chosen that I should live; I will +live; my crime was not in dying, but in taking you with me!" There was +something of bitterness and tender reproach in her tone and in her +look. "It may be," said I, replying to her thoughts,--"it may be that +heaven itself has no such hours as those we have just passed; but life +has,--that is enough to make me love it." She soon recovered her bloom +and her serenity. I seized the oars, and slowly rowed back to the +little sandy beach, where we heard the voices of the boatmen, who had +lighted a fire beneath a projecting rock. We recrossed the lake, and +returned home silently and thoughtfully. + + + + +XXXVI. + + +In the evening, when I went into her room, I found her seated in tears +before her little table, where several open letters were lying +scattered among the tea things. "We had better have died at once, for +here is the lingering death of separation, which begins for me," she +said, pointing to some letters which bore the postmark of Paris and +Geneva. + +Her husband wrote that he began to be very anxious at her long absence +at a season of the year when the weather might become inclement from +day to day; that he felt himself gradually declining and that he wished +to embrace and bless her before he died. His mournful entreaties were +intermingled with many expressions of paternal fondness, and some +sportive allusions to the fair young brother, who made her forget her +other friends. The other letter was from the Genevese doctor, who was +to have come to take her back to Paris. He wrote to say that he was +obliged unexpectedly to leave home to attend a German prince who +required his care, and that he sent in his stead a respectable, +trustworthy man, who would accompany her to Paris and act as her +courier on the road. This man had arrived, and her departure was fixed +for the day after the morrow. + +Although this news had been long foreseen, it affected us as though it +had been quite unexpected. We passed a long evening and nearly half the +night in silence, leaning opposite to one another on the little table, +and neither daring to look at each other, or to speak, for fear of +bursting into tears. We strove to interrupt the speechless agony of our +hearts by a few unconnected words, but these were said in a deep and +hollow voice, which resounded in the room like tear-drops on a coffin. +I had instantly determined to go also. + + + + +XXXVII. + + +The next day was the eve of our separation. The morning, as if to mock +us, rose more bright and warm than in the fairest days of October. + +While the trunks were being packed, and the carriage got ready, we +started with the mules and guides. We visited both hill and valley, to +say farewell, and to make, as it were, a pilgrimage of love to all the +spots where we had first seen each other, then met and walked; where we +had sat, and talked, and loved, during the long and heavenly +intercourse between ourselves and lonely Nature. We began by the lovely +hill of Tresserves which rises like a verdant cliff between the valley +of Aix and the lake; its sides, that rise almost perpendicularly from +the water's edge, are covered with chestnut-trees, rivalling those of +Sicily, through their branches, which overhang the water, one sees +snatches of the blue lake or of the sky, according as one looks high or +low. It was on the velvet of the moss-covered roots of these noble +trees, which have seen successive generations of young men and women +pass like ants beneath their shade, that we in our contemplative hours +had dreamed our fairest dreams. From thence we descended by a steep +declivity to a small solitary chateau called Bon Port. This little +castle is so embosomed in the chestnut-trees of Tresserves on the land +side, and so well hidden on the water side in the deep windings of a +sheltered bay, that it is difficult to see it either from the mountain +or from the little sea of Bourget. A terrace with a few fig-trees +divides the chateau from the sandy beach, where the gentle waves +continually come rippling in, to lick the shore and murmuringly expire. +Oh, how we envied the fortunate possessors of this retreat unknown to +men, hidden in the trees and waters, and only visited by the birds of +the lake, the sunshine and the soft south wind. We blessed it a +thousand times in its repose, and prayed that it might shelter hearts +like ours. + + + + +XXXVIII. + + +From Bon Port we proceeded towards the high mountains which overlook +the valley between Chambery and Geneva, going round by the northern +side of the hill of Tresserves. We saw once more the meadows, the +pastures, the cottages hidden beneath the walnut-trees, and the grassy +slopes, where the young heifers play, their little bell tinkles +continually, to give notice of their wandering march through the grass +to the shepherd, who tends them at a distance. We ascended to the +highest chalets; the winter wind had already scorched the tips of the +grass. We remembered the delightful hours we had spent there, the words +we had spoken, the fond delusion we had entertained of an entire +separation from the world, the sighs we had confided to the mountain +winds and rays to waft them to heaven. We recalled all our hours of +peace and happiness so swiftly flown, all our words, dreams, gestures, +looks and wishes, as one strips a dwelling that one leaves of all that +is most precious. We mentally buried all these treasures of memory and +hope within the walls of these wooden chalets which would remain closed +until the spring, to find them entire on our return, if ever we +returned. + + + + +XXXIX. + + +We came down by the wooded slopes to the foaming bed of a cascade. +There we saw a small funereal monument erected to the memory of a young +and lovely woman, Madame de Broc; she fell some years ago into this +whirl-pool, whose foaming waters gave up a long while after a part of +her white dress, and thus caused her body to be found in the deep +grotto in which it had been ingulfed. Lovers often come and visit this +watery tomb; their hearts feel heavy, and they draw closer to each +other as they think how their fragile felicity may be dashed to atoms +by one false step on the slippery rock. + +From this cascade, which bears the name of Madame de Broc, we walked in +silence towards the Chateau de Saint Innocent, from whence one commands +an extensive view of the whole lake. We got down from our mules beneath +the shade of some lofty oaks, which were interspersed here and there +with a few patches of heath. It was a lonely place at that time, but +since then a rich planter, on his return to his native land, has built +himself a country house, and planted a garden in these, his paternal +acres. Our mules were turned loose, and left to graze in the wood under +the care of the children who acted as our guides. We walked on alone +from tree to tree, from one glade to another on the narrow neck of +land, until we reached the extreme point, where we saw the shining +lake, and heard its splashing waters. This wood of Saint Innocent is a +promontory that stretches out into the lake at the wildest and most +lonely part of its shores; it ends in some rocks of gray granite, which +are sometimes washed by the foam of the wind-tossed waves, but are dry +and shining when the waters subside into repose. We sat down on two +stones close to each other. Before us, the dark pile of the Abbey of +Haute-Combe rose on the opposite shore of the lake. Our eyes were fixed +on a little white speck that seemed to shine at the foot of the gloomy +terraces of the monastery. It was the fisherman's house, where we had +been thrown together by the waves, and united forever by that chance +meeting; it was the room where we had spent that heavenly and yet +funereal night which had decided the fate of both our lives. "It was +there!" she said, stretching out her arm, and pointing to the bright +speck, which was scarcely visible in the distance and darkness of the +opposite shore. "Will there come a day and a place," she added +mournfully, "in which the memory of all we felt there during those +deathless hours will appear to you, in the remoteness of the past, but +as that little speck on the dark background of yonder shore?" + +I could not reply to these words; her tone, her doubts, the prospect of +death, inconstancy, and frailty, and the possibility of forgetfulness, +had struck me to the heart, and filled me with sad forebodings. I burst +into tears. I hid my face in my hands, and turned towards the evening +breeze, that it might dry my tears in my eyes; but she had seen them. + +"Raphael," she resumed with greater tenderness, "no, you will never +forget me. I know it, I feel it; but love is short, and life is slow. +You will live many years beyond me. You will drain all that is sweet, +or powerful, or bitter in the cup that Nature offers to the lips of +man. You will be a man! I know it by your sensibility, which is at once +manly and feminine. You will be a man to the full extent of all the +wretchedness and dignity of that name by which God has called one of +his strangest creatures! In one of your aspirations there is breath for +a thousand lives! You will live with all the energy and in the full +meaning of the word--life! I ..." she stopped for an instant, and +raised her eyes and arms to Heaven as if in thank fulness: "I--I have +lived!--I have lived enough," she resumed in a contented tone, "since I +have inhaled, to bear it forever within me, the spirit of the soul that +I waited for on earth, and which would vivify me even in death, from +whence you once recalled me.... I shall die young, and without regret +now, for I have drained at a single draught the life that you will not +exhaust before your dark hair has become as white as the spray that +dashes over your feet. + +"This sky, this lake, these shores, these mountains, have been the +scene of my only real life here below. Swear to me to blend so +completely in your remembrance this sky, this lake, these shores, these +mountains, with my memory, that their image and mine may henceforward +be inseparable for you; that this landscape in your eyes, and I in your +heart, may make but one ... so that," she added, "when you return after +long days, to see once more this lonely spot, to wander beneath these +trees, on the margin of these waves, to listen to the breeze and +murmuring winds, you may see me once more, as living, as present, and +as loving as I am here!..." + +She could say no more and burst into tears. Oh, how we wept! how long +we wept! The sound of our stifled sobs mingled with the sobbing of the +water on the sand. Our tears fell trickling in the water at our feet. +After a lapse of fifteen years, I cannot write it without tears, even +now. + +O man! fear not for thy affections, and feel no dread lest time should +efface them. There is neither to-day nor yesterday in the powerful +echoes of memory; there is only always. He who no longer feels has +never felt. There are two memories,--the memory of the senses, which +wears out with the senses, and in which perishable things decay; and +the memory of the soul, for which time does not exist, and which lives +over at the same instant every moment of its past and present +existence; it is a faculty of the soul, which, like the soul, enjoys +ubiquity, universality, and immortality of spirit. Fear not, ye who +love! Time has power over hours, none over the soul. + + + + +XL. + + +I strove to speak, but could not. My sobs spoke, and my tears promised. +We got up to join the muleteers, and returned at sunset by the long +avenue of leafless poplars, where we had passed before, when she held +my hand so long in the palanquin. As we went through the straggling +faubourg of cottages, at the entrance of the town, and crossed the +Place to enter the steep street of Aix, sad faces were seen greeting us +at the windows and at the doors; as kind souls watch the departure of +two belated swallows, who are the last to leave the walls which have +sheltered them. Poor women rose from the stone bench where they were +spinning before their houses; children left the goats and donkeys which +they were driving home; all came to address a word, a look, or even a +silent bow of recognition to the young lady, and the one they supposed +to be her brother. She was so beautiful, so gracious to all, so loved, +it seemed as though the last ray of the year was retiring from the +valley. + +When we had reached the top of the town, we got down from our mules and +dismissed the children. As we did not wish to lose an hour of this last +day that still shone on the rose-tinted snows of the Alps, we climbed +slowly, and alone, up a narrow path which leads to the garden terrace +of a house called the Maison Chevalier. From this terrace, which seems +like a platform erected in the centre of a panorama, the eye embraces +the town, the lake, the passes of the Rhone, and all the peaks of the +Alpine landscape. We sat down on the fallen trunk of a tree, and leaned +on the parapet wall of the terrace; we remained mute and motionless, +looking by turns at all the different spots, that for the last six +weeks had witnessed our looks and steps, our twofold dreams, and our +sighs. When all these had one by one faded away in the dim shade of +twilight; when there was only one corner of the horizon, to westward, +where a faint light remained,--we started up with one accord, and fled +precipitately, casting vain and sorrowing looks behind as if some +invisible hand had driven us out of this Eden, and pitilessly effaced +on our steps all the scene of our happiness and love. + + + + +XLI. + + +We returned home and spent a sad evening, although I was to accompany +Julie as far as Lyons on the box of her carriage. When the hand of her +little portable clock marked midnight, I retired, to let her take some +rest before morning. She accompanied me to the door; I opened it, and +said as I kissed her hand in the passage, "Good-bye, till the morrow!" +She did not answer, but I heard her murmur, with a sob, behind the +closing door, "There is no morrow for us!" + +There were a few days more, but they were short and bitter, as the last +dregs of a drained cup. We started for Chambery very early in the +morning, not to show our pale cheeks and swollen eyelids in broad +daylight, and passed the day there in a small inn of the Italian +faubourg. The wooden galleries of the inn overlooked a garden with a +stream running through it, and for a few hours we cheated ourselves +into the belief that we were once more in our home at Aix, with its +galleries, its silence, and its solitude. + + + + +XLII. + + +We wished before we left Chambery and the valley we so much loved to +visit together the humble dwelling of Jean Jacques Rousseau and Madame +de Warens, at Les Charmettes. A landscape is but a man or a woman. What +is Vaucluse without Petrarch? Sorrento without Tasso? What is Sicily +without Theocritus, or the Paraclet without Heloise? What is Annecy +without Madame de Warens? What is Chambery without Jean Jacques +Rousseau? A sky without rays, a voice without echo, a landscape without +life! Man does not only animate his fellow-men, he animates all nature. +He carries his own immortality with him into heaven, but bequeaths +another to the spots that he has consecrated by his presence; it is +only there we can trace his course, and really converse with his +memory. We took with us the volume of the "Confessions" in which the +poet of Les Charmettes describes this rustic retreat. Rousseau was +wrecked there by the first storms of his fate, and was rescued by a +woman, young, lovely, and adventurous, wrecked and lost like himself. +This woman seems to have been a compound of virtues and weaknesses, +sensibility and license, piety and independence of thought, formed +expressly by Nature to cherish and develop the strange youth, whose +mind comprehended that of a sage, a lover, a philosopher, a legislator, +and a madman. Another woman might perhaps have produced another life. +In a man we can always trace the woman whom he first loved. Happy would +he have been who had met Madame de Warens before her profanation! She +was an idol to be adored, but the idol had been polluted. She herself +debased the worship that a young and loving heart tendered her. The +amours of this woman and Rousseau appear like a leaf torn from the +loves of Daphnis and Chloe, and found soiled and defiled on the bed of +a courtesan. It' matters not; it was the first love, or the first +delirium, if you will, of the young man. The birthplace of that love, +the arbor where Rousseau made his first avowal, the room where he +blushed at his first emotions, the yard where he gloried in the most +humble offices to serve his beloved protectress, the spreading +chestnut-trees beneath which they sat together to speak of God, and +intermingled their sportive theology with bursts of merriment and +childish caresses, the landscape, mysterious and wild as they, which +seems so well adapted to them,--have all, for the lover, the poet, or +the philosopher, a deep and hidden attraction. They yield to it without +knowing why. For poets this was the first page of that life which was a +poem; for philosophers it was the cradle of a revolution; for lovers it +is the birthplace of first love. + + + + +XLIII. + + +We followed the stony path at the bottom of the ravine which leads to +Les Charmettes, still talking of this love. We were alone. The +goat-herds even had forsaken the dried-up pastures and the leafless +hedges. The sun shone now and then between the passing clouds, and its +concentrated rays were warmer within the sheltered sides of the ravine. +The redbreasts hopped about the bushes almost within our reach. Every +now and then we would sit on the southern bank of the road to read a +page or two of the "Confessions," and identify ourselves with the +place. + +We fancied we saw the young vagrant in his tattered clothes, knocking +at the gate and delivering, with a blush, his letter of recommendation +to the fair recluse, in the lonely path that leads from the house to +the church. They were so present to our fancy, that it seemed as though +they were expecting us, and that we should see them at the window or in +the garden walks of Les Charmettes. We would walk on, then stop again; +the spot seemed to attract and to repel us by turns, as a place where +love had been revealed, but where love had been profaned also. It +presented no such perils to us. We were destined to carry away our love +from thence as pure and as divine as we had brought it there within us. + +"Oh," I inwardly exclaimed, "were I a Rousseau, what might not this +other Madame de Warens have made me; she who is as superior to her of +Les Charmettes as I am inferior to Rousseau, not in feeling, but in +genius." + +Absorbed in these thoughts, we walked up a shelving greensward upon +which a few walnut-trees were scattered here and there. These trees had +seen the lovers beneath their shade. To the right, where the pass +narrows so as to appear to form a barrier to the traveller, stands the +house of Madame de Warens on a high terrace of rough and ill-cemented +stones. It is a little square building of gray stone, with two windows +and a door opening on the terrace, and the same on the garden side; +there are three low rooms on the upper story, and a large room on the +ground floor with no other furniture than a portrait of Madame de +Warens in her youth. Her lovely face beams forth from the dust-covered +and dingy canvas with beauty, sportiveness, and pensive grace. Poor +charming woman! Had she not met that wandering boy on the highway; had +she not opened to him her house and heart, his sensitive and suffering +genius might have been extinguished in the mire. The meeting seemed +like the effect of chance, but it was predestination meeting the great +man under the form of his first love. That woman saved him; she +cultivated him; she excited him in solitude, in liberty, and in love, +as the houris of the East through pleasure raise up martyrs in their +young votaries. She gave him his dreamy imagination, his almost +feminine soul, his tender accents, his passion for nature. Her pensive +fancy imparted to him enthusiasm,--the enthusiasm of women, of young +men, of lovers, of all the poor, the oppressed, the unhappy of his day. +She gave him the world, and he proved ungrateful.... She gave him fame, +and he bequeathed opprobrium.... But posterity should be grateful to +them, and forgive a weakness that gave us the prophet of liberty. When +Rousseau wrote those odious pages against his benefactress, he was no +longer Rousseau, he was a poor madman. Who knows if his morbid and +disordered imagination, which made him at that time see an insult in +every benefit and hatred in all friendship, did not show him likewise +the courtesan in the loving woman, and wantonness instead of love? I +have always suspected it. I defy any rational man to recompose, with a +semblance of probability, the character Rousseau gives to the woman he +loved, from the contradictory elements which he describes in her. Those +elements exclude each other: if she had soul enough to adore Rousseau, +she did not at the same time love Claude Anet; if she grieved for +Claude Anet and Rousseau, she did not love the young hair-dresser. If +she was pious she did not glory in her weakness, but must have deplored +it; if engaging, handsome, and frail, as Rousseau depicts her, she +could not be reduced to look for admirers among the vagrants of the +streets, or on the highways. If she affected devotion with such a life, +she was a calculating hypocrite; and if a hypocrite, she was not the +frank, open, and unreserved creature of the "Confessions." The likeness +cannot be true; it is a fancy head and a fancy heart. There is some +hidden mystery here, which must be attributed rather to the misguided +hand of the artist than to the nature of the woman whom he wished to +represent. We must neither accuse the painter whose discernment was at +that time impaired, nor believe in the portrait which has disfigured +the sketch he at first made of an adorable creature. + +For my part I never could believe that Madame de Warens would have +recognized herself in the questionable pages of Rousseau's old age. In +my fancy, I have always restored her to what she was, or what she +appeared at Annecy to the young poet,--lovely, feeling, tender, frail +though really pious, prodigal of kindness, thirsting after love, and +desirous of blending the tender names of mother and of mistress in her +affection for the youth that Providence had confided to her, and whom +her love had adopted. This is the true portrait, such as the old men of +Chambery and Annecy have told me that their fathers had transmitted to +them. Rousseau's mind itself bears witness against his own accusations. +Whence would he have derived his sublime and tender piety, his feminine +melancholy, his exquisite and delicate touches of feeling, if a woman +had not bestowed them with her heart. No, the woman who called into +existence such a man was not a cynical courtesan, but rather a fallen +Heloise--an Heloise fallen by love and not by vice or depravity. I +appeal from Rousseau the morose old man, calumniating human nature, to +Rousseau, the young and ardent lover; and when I go, as I often do, to +muse at Les Charmettes, I seek a Madame de Warens far more touching and +attractive in my imagination than in his. + + + + +XLIV. + + +A poor woman made us some fire in Madame de Warens' room; accustomed to +the visit of strangers, and to their long conversations on the scene of +the early days of a celebrated man, she attended to her usual work in +the kitchen and in the yard, and left us at liberty to warm ourselves, +or to saunter backwards and forwards from the house to the garden. This +little sunny garden, surrounded by a wall which separated it from the +vineyards, and overrun with nettles, mallows, and weeds of all kinds, +resembled one of those village churchyards where the peasants assemble +to bask in the rays of the sun, leaning against the church-walls, with +their feet on the graves of the dead. The walks, so neatly gravelled +once, were now covered with damp earth and yellow moss, and showed the +neglect that had followed on absence. How we would have wished to +discover the print of the footsteps of Madame de Warens, when she used +to go, basket in hand, from tree to tree, from vine to vine, gathering +the pears of the orchard or the grapes of the vineyard, and indulging +in merry frolic with, the pupil or the confessor. But there is no trace +of them in their house, save their memory. That is enough; their name, +their remembrance, their image, the sun they saw, the air they +breathed, which seems still beaming with their youth, warm with their +breath, and filled with their voices, give one back the light, the +dreams, the sounds, which shed enchantment round their spring of life. + +I saw by Julie's pensive countenance, and her silent thoughtfulness, +that the sight of this sanctuary of love and genius impressed her as +deeply as myself. At times she shunned me, and remained wrapped in her +own thoughts as if she feared to communicate them; she would go into +the house to warm herself when I was in the garden, and return to sit +on the stone bench in the arbor when I joined her at the fireside. At +length I went to her in the arbor; the last yellow leaves hung loosely +from the vine, and allowed the sun to penetrate and envelop her with +its rays. + +"What is it you wish to think of without me?" I said in a tone of +tender reproach. "Do I ever think alone?" "Alas!" she answered, "you +will not believe me, but I was thinking, that I could wish to be Madame +de Warens for you, during one single season, even though I were to be +forsaken for the remainder of my days, and though shame were to attach +to my memory like hers; even though you proved yourself as ungrateful +and calumniating as Rousseau!.... How happy she was," she continued, +gazing up at the sky as though she sought the image of the strange +creature she envied,--"how happy she was! she sacrificed herself for +him she loved." + +"What ingratitude and what profanation of yourself and of our +happiness!" I answered, walking slowly back with her towards the house, +upon the dry leaves, that rustled beneath our feet. + +"Have I then ever, by a single word, or look, or by a single sigh, +shown that aught was wanting to my bitter but complete felicity? Cannot +you, in your angelic fancy, imagine for another Rousseau (if Nature +could have produced two) another Madame de Warens?--a Madame de Warens, +young and pure, angel, lover, sister, all at once, bestowing her whole +soul, her immaculate and immortal soul, instead of her perishable +charms; bestowing it on a brother who was lost and is found, who was +young, misled, and wandering too in this world, like the son of the +watch-maker; throwing open to that brother, instead of her house and +garden, the bright treasures of her affection, purifying him in her +rays, cleansing him from his first pollutions by her tears, deterring +him forever from any grosser pleasure than that of inward possession +and contemplation, teaching him to value his very privations far above +the sensual enjoyment that man shares with brutes, pointing out to him +his course through life, inciting him to glory and to virtue, and +rewarding his sacrifices by this one thought,--that fame, virtue, and +sacrifices were all taken into account in the heart of his beloved, all +accumulate in her love, are multiplied by her gratitude, and are added +to that treasure of tenderness which is ever increasing here below, to +be expended only in heaven?" + + + + +XLV. + + +Nevertheless, as I spoke thus, I fell quite overcome, with my face +hidden in my hands, on a chair that was near the wall far from hers. I +remained there without speaking a word. "Let us begone," she said; "I +am cold; this place is not good for us!" We gave some money to the good +woman, and we returned slowly to Chambery. + +The next day Julie was to start for Lyons. In the evening Louis came to +see us at the inn, and I induced him to go with me to spend a few weeks +at my father's house, which was situated on the road from Paris to +Lyons. We then went out together to inquire at the coachmaker's in +Chambery for a light caleche, in which we could follow Julie's carriage +as far as the town where we were to separate. We soon found what we +sought. + +Before daylight we were off, travelling in silence through the winding +defiles of Savoy, which at Pont-de-Beauvoisin open into the monotonous +and stony plains of Dauphiny. At every stage we got down and went to +the first carriage to inquire about the poor invalid. Alas! every turn +of the carriage-wheel which took her further from that spring of life +which she had found in Savoy seemed to rob her of her bloom, and to +bring back the look of languor and the slow fever which had struck me +as being the beauty of death the first time I saw her. As the time for +our leaving her drew near, she was visibly oppressed with grief. +Between La-Tour-du-Pin and Lyons, we got into her carriage for a few +leagues to try and cheer her. I begged her to sing the ballad of Auld +Robin Gray for my friend; she did so, to please me, but at the second +verse, which relates the parting of the two lovers the analogy between +our situation and the hopeless sadness of the ballad, as she sung it, +struck her so forcibly that she burst into tears. She took up a black +shawl that she wore that day, and threw it as a veil over her face, and +I saw her sobbing a long while beneath the shawl. At the last stage she +fell into a fainting fit, which lasted till we reached the hotel where +we were to get down at Lyons. With the assistance of her maid, we +carried her upstairs, and laid her on her bed. In the evening she +rallied, and the next day we pursued our journey towards Macon. + + + + +XLVI. + + +It was there we were to separate definitively. We gave our directions +to her courier, and hurried over the adieux for fear of increasing her +illness by prolonging such painful emotions, as one who with an +unflinching hand hastily bares a wound to spare the sufferer. My friend +left for my father's country house, whither I was to follow the next +day. + +Louis was no sooner gone than I felt quite unable to keep my word. I +could not rest under the idea of leaving Julie in tears, to prosecute +her long winter journey with only the care of servants, and the thought +that she might fall ill in some lonely inn, and die while calling for +me in vain, was unbearable. I had no money left; a good old man who had +once lent me twenty-five louis had died during my absence. I took my +watch, a gold chain that one of my mother's friends had given me three +years before, some trinkets, my epaulets, my sword, and the gold lace +off my uniform, wrapped them all in my cloak, and went to my mother's +jeweller, who gave me thirty-five louis for the whole. From thence, I +hurried to the inn where Julie slept, and called her courier; I told +him I should follow the carriage at a distance to the gates of Paris, +but that I did not wish his mistress to know it, for fear she should +object to it, out of consideration to me. I inquired the names of the +towns and the hotels where he intended to stay on the road, in order +that I might stop in the same towns, but stay at other hotels. I +rewarded him by anticipation and liberally for his secrecy, then ran to +the post house, ordered horses, and set off half an hour after the +departure of the carriage I wished to follow. + + + + +XLVII. + + +[Illustration: _RAPHAEL SEES JULIE IN PARIS_.] + + +No unforeseen obstacles counteracted the mysterious watchfulness which +I exercised, though still invisible. The courier gave notice secretly +to the postilions of the approach of another caleche, and, as he +ordered horses for me, I always found the relays ready. I accelerated +or slackened my speed according as I wished to keep at a distance, or +to come nearer to the first carriage, and always questioned the +postilions respecting the health of the young lady they had just +driven. From the top of the hills I could see, far down in the plain, +the carriage speeding through fog or sunshine, and bearing away my +happiness. My thoughts outstripped the horses; in fancy I entered the +carriage and saw Julie asleep, dreaming perhaps of me, or awake, and +weeping over our bright days forever flown. When I closed my eyes, to +see her better, I fancied I heard her breathe. I can scarcely now +comprehend that I had strength of mind and self-denial enough to resist +during a journey of one hundred and twenty leagues the impulse that +unceasingly impelled me towards that carriage which I followed without +attempting to overtake; my whole soul went with it, and my body alone, +insensible to the snow and sleet, followed, and was jolted, tossed and +swung about, without the least consciousness of its own sufferings. But +the fear of causing Julie an unexpected shock which might prove fatal +or of renewing a heartrending scene of separation, repelled me, and the +idea of watching over her safety like a loving Providence, and with +angel-like disinterestedness, nailed me to my resolution. + +The first time, she got down at the great Hotel of Autun, and I, in a +little inn of the faubourg close by. Before daylight the two carriages, +within sight of each other, were once more running along the white and +winding road, through the gray plains and druidical oak forests of +Upper Burgundy. We stopped in the little town of Avalon,--she in the +centre, and I at the extremity of the town. The next day we were +rolling on towards Sens. The snow which the north wind had accumulated +on the barren heights of Lucy-le-Bois and of Vermanton, fell in +half-melted flakes on the road, and smothered the sound of the wheels. +One could scarcely distinguish the misty horizon at the distance of a +few feet, through the whirling cloud of snow that the wind drifted from +the adjoining fields. It was no longer possible, by sight or sound, to +judge of the distance between the two carriages. Suddenly I perceived +in front, almost touching my horses' heads, Julie's carriage, which was +drawn up in the middle of the road. The courier had alighted, and was +standing on the steps calling out for help and making signs of +distress. I leaped out and flew to the carriage, by a first impulse +stronger than prudence; I jumped inside, and saw the maid striving to +recall her mistress from a fainting fit brought on by the weather and +fatigue, and perhaps by the storms of the heart. The courier ran to +fetch warm water from the distant cottages, and the maid rubbed her +mistress's cold feet in her hands, or pressed them to her bosom to warm +them. Oh, what I felt, as I held that adored form in my arms during one +long hour of insensibility, desiring that she should hear, and dreading +lest she should recognize, my voice, which recalled her to life, none +can conceive or describe, unless they, too, have felt life and death +thus struggling in their hearts. + +At last our tender care, the application of the hot-water bottles which +had been brought by the courier, and the warmth of my hands on hers, +recalled heat to the extremities. The color which began to appear in +her cheeks, and a long and feeble sigh which escaped her lips, +indicated her return to life. I jumped out on the road, so that she +might not see me when she opened her eyes, and remained there, behind +the carriage, my face muffled up in my cloak. I desired the servants to +make no mention of my sudden appearance. They soon made a sign to me +that she was recovering consciousness, and I heard her voice stammer +forth these words, as if in a dream: "Oh, if Raphael were here! I +thought it was Raphael!" I hastily returned to my own carriage; the +horses started afresh, and a wide distance soon lay between us. In the +evening I went to inquire after her at the inn where she had alighted +at Sens. I was told that she was quite well, and was sleeping soundly. + +I followed in her track as far as Fossard, a stage near the little town +of Montereau; there the road from Sens to Paris branches off in two +directions,--one branch passing through Fontainebleau, the other +through Melun. This latter being shorter by several leagues, I followed +it in order to precede Julie by a few hours in Paris, and see her get +down at her own door. I paid the postilions double, and arrived long +before dark at the hotel where I was accustomed to put up in Paris. At +nightfall I stationed myself on the quay opposite to Julie's house, +that she had so often described to me; I knew it as if I had lived +there all my life. I observed through the windows that hurrying to and +fro of shadows within, which one sees in a house where some new guest +is expected. I could see on the ceiling of her room the reflection of +the fire which had been lighted on the hearth. An old man's face showed +itself several times at the window, and appeared to watch and listen to +the noises of the quay. It was her husband,--her second father. The +concierge held the door open, and stepped out from time to time, to +watch and listen likewise. Now and then a pale and rapid gleam of light +from the street lamp, which swung backwards and forwards with the gusty +wind of December, shot athwart the pavement before the house, and then +left it in darkness. At last a travelling carriage swept around the +corner of one of the streets which lead to the quay, and stopped before +the house. I darted forward and half-concealed myself in the shade of a +column at the next door to that at which the carriage stopped. I saw +the servants rush to the door. I saw Julie alight, and saw the old man +embrace her, as a father embraces his child after a long absence; he +then walked heavily upstairs, leaning on the arm of the concierge. The +carriage was unpacked, the postilion drove it round to another street +to put it up, the door was closed. I returned to my post near the +parapet on the river side. + + + + +XLVIII. + + +I stood a long while contemplating from thence the lighted windows of +Julie's house, and sought to discover what was going on inside. I saw +the usual stir of an arrival, busy people carrying trunks, unpacking +parcels, and setting all things in order; when this bustle had a little +subsided, when the lights no longer ran backwards and forwards from +room to room, and that the old man's room alone was lighted by the pale +rays of a night lamp, I could distinguish, through the closed windows +of the _entresol_ beneath, the motionless shadow of Julie's tall and +drooping form on the white curtains. She remained some time in the same +attitude; then I saw her open the window spite of the cold, look +towards the Seine in my direction, as if her eye had rested upon me +from some preternatural revelation of love, then turn towards the +north, and gaze at a star that we used to contemplate together, and +which we had both agreed to look at in absence, as a meeting-place for +our souls in the inaccessible solitude of the firmament. I felt that +look fall on my heart like living coals of fire. I knew that our hearts +were united in one thought and my resolution vanished. I darted forward +to rush across the quay, to go beneath her windows, and say one word +that might make her recognize her brother at her feet. At the same +instant she closed her window. The rolling of carriages covered the +sound of my voice; the light was extinguished at the _entresol_, and I +remained motionless on the quay. The clock of a neighboring edifice +struck slowly twelve; I approached the door, and kissed it convulsively +without daring to knock. I knelt on the threshold, and prayed to the +stones to preserve to me the supreme treasure which I had brought back +to confide to these walls, and then slowly withdrew. + + + + +XLIX. + + +I left Paris the next day without having seen a single one of the +friends I had there. I inwardly rejoiced at not having bestowed one +look, one word, or a single step on any one but her. The rest of the +world no longer existed for me. Before I left, however, I put into the +post a note dated Paris, and addressed to Julie, which she would +receive on waking. The note only contained these words: "I have +followed you, I have watched over you though invisible. I would not +leave you without knowing that you were under the care of those who +love you. Last night, at midnight, when you opened the window, and +looked at the star, and sighed, I was there! You might have heard my +voice. When you read these lines I shall be far away!" + + + + +L. + + +I travelled day and night in such complete dizziness of thought that I +felt neither cold, hunger nor distance, and arrived at M---- as if +awaking from a dream, and scarcely remembered that I had been to Paris. +I found my friend Louis awaiting me at my father's house in the +country. His presence was soothing to me; I could at least speak to him +of her whom he admired as much as I did. We slept in the same room, and +part of our nights were spent in talking of the heavenly vision, by +which he had been as dazzled as myself. He considered her as one of +those delusions of fancy, one of those women above mortal height, like +Tasso's Eleanora, Dante's Beatrice, Petrarch's Laura, or Vittoria +Colonna, the lover, the poet, and the heroine at once,--forms that flit +across the earth, scarcely touching it, and without tarrying, only to +fascinate the eyes of some men, the privileged few of love, to lead on +their souls to immortal aspirations, and to be the _sursum corda_ of +superior imaginations. As to Louis, he dared not raise his love as high +as his enthusiasm. His sensitive and tender heart, which had been early +wounded, was at that time filled with the image of a poor and pious +orphan, one of his own family. His happiness would have been to have +married her, and to live in obscurity and peace in a cottage among the +hills of Chambery. Want of fortune restricted the two poor lovers to a +hopeless and tender friendship, from the fear of lowering the name of +their family in poverty, or of bequeathing indigence to children. The +young girl died some years after, of solitude and hopelessness. I have +never seen a sweeter face droop and die for the want of a few of +fortune's rays. Her countenance, where might be traced the remains of +blooming youth, equally ready to revive or to fade forever, bore in the +highest degree the sublime and touching impress of that virtue of the +unhappy, called resignation. She became blind in consequence of the +secret tears she shed during her long years of expectation and +uncertainty. I met her once, on my return from one of my journeys to +Italy. She was led by the hand through the streets of Chambery, by one +of her little sisters. When she heard my voice, she turned pale, and +felt for some support with her poor hesitating hand: "Pardon me," she +said; "but when I used formerly to hear that voice, I always heard with +it another." Poor girl! she now listens to her lover's voice in heaven. + + + + +LI. + + +How long were the two months that I had to pass away from Julie in my +father's house, before the time came that I could join her in Paris! +During the last three or four months, I had exhausted the allowance I +received from my father, the secret resources of my mother's +indulgence, and the purse of my friends, to pay the debts that +dissipation, play, and my travels had made me contract. I had no means +of obtaining the small sum I required to go to Paris, and to live there +even in seclusion and penury, and was obliged to wait till the month of +January, when my quarter's allowance from my father became due. At that +time of the year, too, I was in the habit of receiving some little +presents from a rich but severe old uncle, and from some good and +prudent old aunts. By means of all these resources, I hoped to collect +a sum of six or eight hundred francs, which would be sufficient to keep +me in Paris for a few months. Privations would be no trial to my +vanity, for my life consisted only in my love. All the riches of this +world could, in my eyes, only have served to purchase for me the +portion of the day that I was to pass with her. + +The weary days of expectation were filled with thoughts of her. We +devoted to each other every hour of our time. In the morning, on +waking, she retired to her room to write to me, and at the same instant +I, too, was writing to her; our pages and our thoughts crossed on the +road by every post, questioning, answering, and mingling without a +day's interruption. There were thus in reality for us only a few hours' +absence; in the evening and at night. But even these I consecrated to +her: I was surrounded with her letters,--they lay open upon the table, +my bed was strewn with them; I learned them by heart. I often repeated +to myself the most affecting and impassioned passages, adding in fancy +her voice, her gesture, her tone, her look; I would answer her, and +thus succeed in producing such a complete delusion of her real +presence, that I felt impatient and annoyed when I was summoned to +meals, or interrupted by visitors; at these times it seemed as though +she were torn from me, or driven away from my room. In my long rambles +on the mountains, or in those misty plains without an horizon which +border the Saone, I always took her last letter with me, and would sit +on the rocks, or on the edge of the water, amid the ice and snow, to +read it over and over again. Each time I fancied I discovered some word +or expression that had escaped my notice before. I remember that I +always instinctively directed my course towards the north, as if each +step I took in the direction of Paris brought me nearer to her, and +diminished the cruel distance that separated us. Sometimes I went very +far on the Paris road under this impression, and when it was time to +return, I had always a severe struggle with myself. I felt sorrowful, +and would often look back towards that point of the horizon where she +dwelt, and walk slowly and heavily home. Oh, how I envied the +snow-laden wings of the crows that flew northward through the mist! +What a pang I felt as I saw the carriages rolling towards Paris! How +many of my useless days of youth would I not have given to be in the +place of one of those listless old men who glanced unconcernedly +through their carriage windows at the solitary youth by the wayside, +whose steps travelled in the contrary direction to his heart. Oh, how +interminably long did the short days of December and January appear! +There was one bright hour for me, among all my hours,--it was when I +heard from my room the step, the voice, and the rattle of the postman, +who was distributing the letters in the neighborhood. As soon as I +heard him I opened my window; I saw him coming up the street, with his +hands full of letters, which he distributed to all the maid-servants, +and waited at each door till he received the postage. How I cursed the +slowness of the good women, who seemed never to have done reckoning the +change into his hand! Before the postman rang at my fathers door I had +already flown downstairs, crossed the vestibule, and stood panting at +the door. While the old man fumbled among his letters, I strove to +discover the envelope of fine post paper, and the pretty English +handwriting that distinguished my treasure among all the coarse papers +and clumsy superscriptions of commercial or vulgar letters. I seized it +with a trembling hand; my eyes swam, my heart beat, and my legs refused +their office. I hid the letter in my bosom for fear of meeting some one +on the stairs; and lest so frequent a correspondence should appear +suspicious to my mother, I would run into my room and bolt my door, so +as to devour the pages at leisure, without fear of interruption. How +many tears and kisses I impressed on the paper! Alas, when many years +afterwards I opened the volume of these letters, how many words effaced +by my lips, and that my tears or my transports had washed or torn out, +were wanting to the sense of many sentences! + + + + + +LII. + + +After breakfast I used to retire to my upper room, to read my letter +over again and to answer it. These were the most feverish and +delightful hours in the day. I would take four sheets of the largest +and thinnest paper that Julie had sent me on purpose from Paris, and +whose every page, commencing very high up, ending very low down, +crossed, and written on the margin, contained thousands of words. These +sheets I covered every morning, and found them too scanty and too soon +filled for the passionate and tumultuous overflow of my thoughts. In +these letters there was no beginning, no middle, no end, and no +grammar; nothing, in short, of what is generally understood by the word +style. It was my soul laid bare before another soul expressing, or +rather stammering forth, as well as it could, the conflicting emotions +that filled it, with the help of the inadequate language of men. But +such language was not made to express unutterable things; its imperfect +signs and empty terms, its hollow speeches and its icy words, were +melted, like refractory ore, by the concentrated fire of our souls, and +cast into an indescribable language, vague, ethereal, flaming and +caressing, like the licking tongues of fire that had no meaning for +others, but which we alone understood, as it was part of ourselves. +These effusions of my heart never ended and never slackened. If the +firmament had been a single page, and God had bid me fill it with my +love, it could not have contained one-half of what spoke within me! I +never stopped till the four sheets were filled; yet I always seemed to +have said nothing, and in truth I had said nothing,--for who could ever +tell what is infinite? + + + + +LIII. + + +These letters, which were without any pitiful pretensions to talent on +my part, and were a delight and not a labor, might have been of +marvellous service to me at a later period, if fate had destined me to +address my fellow men, or to depict the shades, the transports, or the +pains of passion, in works of imagination. Unknown to myself, I +struggled desperately as Jacob wrestled with the angel, against the +poorness, the rigidity, and the resistance of the language I was forced +to use, as I knew not the language of the skies. The efforts that I +made to conquer, bend, smooth, extend, spiritualize, color, inflame, or +moderate expressions; the wish to render by words the nicest shades of +feeling the most ethereal aspirations of thought, the most irresistible +impulses, and the most chaste reserve of passion; to express looks, +attitudes, sighs, silence, and even the annihilation of the heart +adoring the invisible object of its love,--all these efforts, I repeat, +which seemed to bend my pen beneath my fingers like a rebellious +instrument, made me sometimes find the very word, expression, or cry +that I required to give a voice to the unutterable. I had used no +language, but I had cried forth the cry of my soul; and I was heard. +When I rose from my chair, after this desperate but delightful struggle +against words, pen, and paper, I remembered that, spite of the winter +cold in my room, the perspiration stood upon my forehead, and I used to +open the window to cool my fevered brow. + + + + +LIV. + + +My letters were not only a cry of love, they were more frequently full +of invocations, contemplation, dreams of the future, prospects of +heaven, consolations, and prayers. + +My love, which by its nature was debarred from all those enjoyments +which relax the heart by satisfying the senses, had opened afresh +within me all the springs of piety that had been dried up or polluted +by vile pleasures. I felt in my heart all the purity and elevation of +divine love. I strove to bear away with me to heaven, on the wings of +my excited and almost mystical imagination, that other suffering and +discouraged soul. I spoke of God, who alone was perfect enough to have +created her superhuman perfection of beauty, genius, and tenderness; +great enough to contain our boundless aspirations; infinite and +inexhaustible enough to absorb and whelm in himself the love he had +lighted in us, so that his flame, in consuming us one by the other, +might make us both exhale ourselves in him. I comforted Julie under the +sacrifice that necessity obliged us to make of complete happiness here +below; I pointed out to her the merit of this self-denial of an instant +in the eyes of the Eternal Remunerator of our actions. I blessed the +mournful and sublime purity of such sacrifices, since they would one +day obtain for us a more immaterial and angelic union in the eternal +atmosphere of pure spirits. I went so far as to speak of myself as +happy in my abnegation, and to sing the hymns of the martyrdom of love +to which we were by love, by greater love, condemned. I entreated Julie +not to think of my grief and not to give way to sorrow herself. I +showed a courage and a contempt for terrestrial happiness that I +possessed, alas! very often only in words. I offered up to her, as a +holocaust, all that was human in me. I elevated myself to the +immateriality of angels, so that she might not suspect a suffering or a +desire in my adoration. I besought her to seek in a tender and +sustaining religion, in the shelter of the church, in the mysterious +faith of Christ, the God of tears, in kneeling and in invocation,--the +hopes, the consolations, and the delights that I had tasted in my +childhood. She had renewed in me all my early feelings of piety. I +composed prayers for her,--calm, yet ardent prayers, that ascend like +flames to Heaven, but like flames that no wind can cause to vacillate. +I begged her to pronounce these prayers at certain hours of the day and +night, when I would repeat them also, so that our two minds, united by +the same words, might be elevated at the same hour in one +invocation.... All these were wet with my tears, that left their traces +on my words, and were doubtless more powerful and more eloquent than +they. I used to go and throw into the post by stealth these letters, +the very marrow of my bones; and felt relieved on my return, as if I +had thrown off a part of the weight of my own heart. + + + + +LV. + + +Spite of my continual efforts and of the perpetual application of my +young and ardent imagination to communicate to my letters the fire that +consumed me, to create a language for my sighs, to pour my burning soul +upon the paper and make it overleap the distance that divided us,--in +this combat against the impotence of words, I was always surpassed by +Julie. Her letters had more expression in one phrase than mine in their +eight pages,--her heart breathed in the words; one saw her looks in the +lines; the expressions seemed still warm from her lips. In her, nothing +evaporated during that slow and dull transition of the feeling to the +word which lets the lava of the heart cool and pale beneath the pen of +man. Woman has no style, that is why all she says is so well said. +Style is a garment, but the unveiled soul stands forth upon the lips or +beneath the hand of woman. Like the Venus of speech, it rises from the +depths of feeling in its naked beauty, wakes of itself to life, wonders +at its own existence, and is adored ere it knows that it has spoken. + + + + +LVI. + + +What letters and what ardor! What tones and accents! What fire and +purity combined, like light and transparency in a diamond, like passion +and bashfulness on the brow of the young girl who loves! What powerful +simplicity! What inexhaustible effusions! What sudden revivals in the +midst of languor! What sounds and songs! Then there would be sadness, +recurring like the unexpected notes at the end of an air; caressing +words, which seemed to fan the brow like the breath of a fond mother +bending over her smiling child; a voluptuous lulling of half-whispered +words, and hushed and dreamy sentences, which wrapped one in rays and +murmurs, stillness and perfume, and led one gently by the soft and +soothing syllables to the repose of love, the still sleep of the soul, +unto the kiss upon the page which said farewell! The farewell and the +kiss both silently received, as the lips silently impressed them. I +have seen those letters all again; I have read over, page by page, this +correspondence, bound up and classed, after death, by the pious hand of +friendship; one letter answering the other from the first note down to +the last word written by the death-struck hand, to which love still +imparted strength. I have read them o'er, and burned them with tears, +in secret, as if I committed a crime, and snatching twenty times the +half-consumed page from the flames to read it once again. Why did I +thus destroy? Because their very ashes would have been too burning for +this world, and I have scattered them to the winds of heaven. + + + + +LVII. + + +At length the day came when I could reckon the hours that still +separated me from Julie. All the resources that I could command did not +amount to a sufficient sum to keep me three or four months in Paris. My +mother, who noticed my distress without guessing its cause, drew from +the casket which her fondness had already nearly emptied a large +diamond, mounted as a ring. Alas, it was the last remaining jewel of +her youth! She slipped it secretly into my hand, with tears. "I suffer +as much as you can, Raphael," she said with a mournful look, "to see +your unprofitable youth wasted in the idleness of a small town, or in +the reveries of a country life. I had always hoped that the gifts of +God, that from your infancy I rejoiced to see in you, would attract the +notice of the world, and open to you a career of fortune and honor. The +poverty against which we have to struggle does not allow us to bring +you forward. Hitherto such has been the will of God, and we must submit +with resignation to his ways, which are always the best. Yet it is with +grief I see you sinking into that moral languor which always follows +fruitless endeavors. Let us try Fate once more. Go, since the earth +here seems to burn beneath your feet,--go and live for awhile in Paris. +Call, with reserve and dignity, on those old friends of your family who +are now in power. Show the talents with which Nature and study have +endowed you. It is impossible that those at the head of the Government +should not strive to attract young men able, as you would be, to serve, +support, and adorn the reign of the princes whom God has restored to +us. Your poor father has much to do to bring up his six children, and +not to fall below his rank in the distresses of our rustic life. Your +other relations are good and kind, but they will not understand that +breathing-space and action are necessary to the devouring activity of +the mind at twenty. Here is my last jewel; I had promised my mother +never to part with it save from dire necessity. Take it, and sell it; +it will serve to maintain you in Paris a few weeks longer. It is the +last token of my love, which I stake for you in the lottery of +Providence. It must bring you good luck; for my solicitude, my prayers, +my tenderness for you go with it." I took the ring, and kissed my +mother's hand; a tear fell upon the diamond. Alas, it served not to +allow me to seek or to await the favor of great men or princes who +turned away from my obscurity, but to live three months of that divine +life of the heart worth centuries of greatness. This sacred diamond was +to me as Cleopatra's pearl dissolved in my cup of life, from which I +drank happiness and love for a short time. + + + + +LVIII. + + +I completely altered my habits from that day, from respect for my poor +mother's repeated sacrifices, and the concentration of all my thoughts +in this one desire,--to see once more my love, and to prolong, as much +as possible, by the strictest economy, the allotted time I was to spend +with Julie. I became as calculating and as sparing of the little gold I +took with me as an old miser. It seemed as though the most trifling sum +I spent was an hour of my happiness, or a drop of my felicity that I +wasted. I resolved to live like Jean Jacques Rousseau, on little or +nothing, and to retrench from my vanity, my dress, or my food, all that +I wished to bestow on the rapture of my soul. I was not, however, +without an undefined hope of making some use of my talents in the cause +of my love. These were as yet made known to a few friends only by some +verses; but in the last three months I had written during my sleepless +nights a little volume of poetry, amatory, melancholy, or pious, +according as my imagination spoke to me in tender or in serious notes. +The whole had been copied out with care in my best handwriting, and +shown to my father, who was an excellent critic, though somewhat +severe; a few friends, too, had favorably judged some fragments. I had +bound up my poetical treasure in green, a color of good omen for my +hopes of fame; but I had not shown it to my mother, whose chaste and +pious purity of mind might have taken alarm at the more antique than +Christian voluptuousness of some of my elegies. I hoped that the simple +grace and the winged enthusiasm of my poetry might please some +intelligent publisher, who would buy my volume, or at least consent to +print it at his own expense; and that the public taste, attracted by +the novelty of a style springing from the heart, and nursed in the +woods, would, perhaps, confer on me a humble fortune and a name. + + + + +LIX. + + +I had no need to look for a lodging in Paris. One of my friends, the +young Count de V----, who had just returned from his travels, was to +spend the winter and the following spring there, and had offered to +share with me a little _entresol_ that he occupied, over the rooms of +the concierge in the magnificent hotel (since pulled down) of the +Marechal de Richelieu, in the Rue Neuve St. Augustin. The Count de +V----, with whom I was in almost daily correspondence, knew all. I had +given him a letter of introduction to Julie, that he might know the +soul of my soul, and that he might understand, if not my delirium, at +least my adoration for that woman. At first sight, he comprehended and +almost shared my enthusiasm. In his letters, he always alluded, with +tender pity and respect, to that fair vision of melancholy, which +seemed hovering between life and death, and only detained on earth, he +said, by the ineffable love she bore to me. He always spoke to me of +her as of a heavenly gift, sent to my eyes and heart, and which would +raise me above human nature as long as I remained enveloped in her +radiance. V----, who was persuaded of the holy and superhuman nature of +our attachment, considered it as a virtue, and felt no repugnance to +being the mediator and confidant of our love. Julie, on her part, spoke +of V---- as the only friend she considered worthy of me, and for whom +she would have wished to increase my friendship, instead of detracting +from it by a mean jealousy of the heart. Both urged me to come to +Paris, but V----, alone, knew the secret motives, and the strictly +material impossibility, which had detained me till then. Spite of his +devoted friendship, of which he gave me, until his death, so many +proofs during the troubles of my life, it was not in his power at that +time to remove the obstacles that arrested me. His mother had exhausted +her means to give him an education befitting his rank, and to allow him +to travel through Europe. He was himself deep in debt, and could only +offer me a corner in the apartment that his family provided for him. As +to all the rest, he was, at that time of his life, as poor and as much +enslaved as myself by the want so cruelly defined by Horace--_Res +angustae domi_. + +I left M---- in a little one-horse jaunting car, consisting of a wooden +seat on an axle-tree, and four poles which supported a tarpaulin to +shelter us against the rain. These cars changed horses every four or +five miles, and served to convey to Paris the masons from the +Bourbonnais and from Auvergne, the weary pedestrians they met on the +road, and soldiers lamed by their long marches who were glad to spare a +day's fatigue for a few sous. I felt no shame or annoyance at this +vulgar mode of conveyance; I would have travelled barefooted through +the snow, and not have felt less proud or less happy, for I was thus +saving one or two louis with which I could purchase some days of +happiness. I reached the barrier of Paris without having felt a pebble +of the road. The night was dark, and it was raining hard; I took up my +portmanteau, and soon after knocked at the door of the humble lodging +of the Count de V----. + +He was waiting for me; he embraced me, and spoke of her. I was never +wearied of questioning and listening to him. That same evening I was to +see Julie. V---- was to announce my arrival, and prepare her for joy. +When every visitor had retired from Julie's drawing-room, V---- was to +leave last of all to join me at a little _cafe_ of the neighborhood +where I was to wait for him, and give me notice that she was alone, and +that I might throw myself at her feet. It was only after I had learned +all these particulars that I thought of drying my clothes and taking +some refreshment. I then took possession of the dark alcove of his +ante-room, which was lighted by one round window, and heated by a +stove. I dressed myself neatly and simply, so that she I loved might +not blush for me before her friends. + +At eleven o'clock V---- and I went out on foot; we proceeded together +as far as the window which I knew so well. There were three carriages +at the door. V---- went up, and I retired to wait for him at the +appointed place. How long that hour seemed while I waited for him! How +I execrated those visitors who, involuntarily importunate, came in +their indifference to dispose of some idle hours, and delayed the +reunion of two fond hearts who counted each second of their martyrdom +by their palpitations! At last V---- appeared; I followed rapidly on +his steps, he left me at the door, and I went up. + + + + +LX. + + +If I were to live a thousand times a thousand years, I should never +forget that instant and that sight. She was standing up in the light, +her elbow resting carelessly on the white marble of the chimney; her +tall and slender figure, her shoulders, and her profile, were reflected +in the glass; her face was turned towards the door, her eyes fixed on a +little dark passage leading to the drawing-room, and her head was bent +forward, and slightly inclined on one side, in the attitude of one +listening for the sound of approaching footsteps. She was dressed in +mourning, in a black silk dress trimmed with black lace round the neck +and the skirt. This profusion of lace, rumpled by the cushions of the +sofa to which her indolent and languid life confined her, hung around +her like the black and clustering bunches of the elder, shedding its +berries in the autumnal wind. The dark color of her gown left only her +shoulders, neck, and face in light, and the mourning of her dress +seemed completed by the natural mourning of her dark hair, which was +gathered up at the back of her head. This uniformity of color added to +her height, and showed to advantage her graceful and flexible figure. +The reflection of the fire in the glass, the light of the lamp on the +chimney-piece striking on her cheek, and the animation of impatient +expectation and love, shed on her countenance a splendor of youth, +bloom, and life, which seemed a transfiguration effected by love. + +My first exclamation was one of joy and delighted surprise at seeing +her thus, more living, lovely, and immortal, in my eyes, than I had +ever seen her in the brightest days of Savoy. A feeling of deceitful +security and eternal possession entered into my heart, as my eyes fell +on her. She tried to stammer forth a few words on seeing me, but could +not. Her lips trembled with emotion. I fell at her feet, and pressed my +lips to the carpet upon which she trod. I then looked up to assure +myself that her presence was not a dream. She laid one of her hands +upon my hair, which thrilled beneath her touch, and holding by the +other to the marble of the chimney-piece, she too fell on her knees +before me. We gazed at each other at a distance. We sought words, and +found none for our excess of joy. We remained silent, but that very +silence and our kneeling posture was a language; I knelt full of +adoration, she full of happiness, and our attitude seemed to say, They +adore one another, but a phantom of Death stands between, and though +their eyes drink rapture, they will never be clasped in each other's +arms. + + + + +LXI. + + +I know not how many minutes we remained thus, nor how many thousand +interrogations and answers, what floods of tears, and oceans of joy +passed unexpressed between our mute and closed lips, between our +moistened eyes, between her countenance and mine. Happiness had struck +us motionless, and time had ceased to be. It was eternity in an +instant. + +There was a knock at the street door; a sound of feet on the stairs. I +rose, and she resumed, with a faltering step, her place on the sofa. I +sat down on the other side, in the shade, to hide my flushed cheeks and +tearful eyes. A man of already advanced age, of imposing stature, with +a benignant, noble, and beaming countenance, slowly entered the room. +He approached the sofa without speaking, and imprinted a paternal kiss +on Julie's trembling hand. It was Monsieur de Bonald. Spite of the +painful awakening from ecstasy that the knock and arrival of a stranger +had produced in me, I inwardly blessed him for having interrupted that +first look in which reason might have been overpowered by rapture. +There are times when the cold voice of reason is required to still with +its icy tones the fever of the senses, and to strengthen anew the soul +in its holy and energetic resolves. + + + + +LXII. + + +Julie introduced me to M. de Bonald as the young man whose verses he +had read; he was surprised at my youth, and addressed me with +indulgence. He conversed with Julie with the paternal familiarity of a +man whose genius had rendered him illustrious; he had all the serenity +of age, and sought in the company of a young and lovely woman merely a +passing ray of beauty to enchant his eyes, and the charm of her society +during the calm and conversational hours at the close of day. His voice +was deep, as though it came from the heart, and his conversation flowed +with the graceful, yet serious, ease of a mind which seeks to unbend in +repose. Honesty was stamped on his brow, and spoke in the accents of +his voice. As the conversation seemed likely to be prolonged, and the +clock was on the point of striking twelve, I thought it right to take +my leave first, so as to create no suspicion of too great familiarity +in the mind of a friend and visitor of older standing than myself in +the house. Silence and one single look were the only reward I received +for my long and ardent expectation and my weary journey; but I bore +away with me her image and the certainty of seeing her every day,--that +was enough; it was too much. I wandered a long while on the quays, +baring my breast to the night air, and inhaling it with my lips, to +allay the fever of happiness which possessed me. On my return home, I +found that V---- had been asleep many hours; as for me, it was +daylight, and I had heard the cries of the venders in the streets of +Paris before I closed my eyes. + + * * * * * + +My days were filled with one single thought, which I treasured up in my +heart, and would not even allow my countenance to reveal, as a precious +perfume of which one would fear to let a particle evaporate by exposing +the vase that contains it to the outward air. I used to rise with the +first rays of light, which always penetrated tardily into the dark +alcove of the little ante-room where my friend gave me shelter like a +mendicant of love. I always began the day by a long letter to Julie, +which was but a calmer continuation of the conversation of the day +before; in it I poured forth all the thoughts that had suggested +themselves since I had left her. Love feels delightful remorse at its +tender omissions; accuses, reproaches itself, and feels no rest till +they have been repaired. They are gems fallen from the heart or the +lips of the loved one, which cause the lover's thoughts to travel back +over the past, to gather them up, and to increase the treasure of his +feelings. Julie, when she awoke, received my letter, which made it +appear to her as though the conversation of the preceding evening had +not been interrupted, but had been kept up in whispered tones during +her sleep. I always received her answer before noon. + +My heart being thus appeased, after the agitation of the night, my next +thought was to calm the impatience for the evening's interview, which +began to take possession of me. I strove not to divert my heart from +its one thought, but to interest my eyes and mind, and had laid down as +a law to myself to spend several hours in reading and study, to occupy +the interval between the time when I left Julie till we met again. I +wished to improve myself not for others, but for her,--in order that he +whom she loved should not disgrace her preference; and that those +superior men who composed her society, and who sometimes saw me in her +drawing-room standing at a corner of the fireplace, like a statue of +contemplation, should discover in me, if by chance they spoke to me, a +soul, an intelligence, a hope, or a promise, beneath my timid and +silent appearance. Then I had vague dreams of shining exploits, of a +stirring destiny, which Julie would watch from afar, and rejoice to see +me struggling with men, rising in strength, in greatness, and in power; +I thought she might one day glory secretly in having appreciated me +before the crowd, and in having loved me before posterity. + + + + +LXIII. + + +All this, and still more, my forced leisure, the obsession of one +besetting thought, my contempt for all besides, the want of money to +procure other amusement, and the almost claustral seclusion in which I +lived, disposed me to a life of more intense and eager study than I had +yet led. I passed my whole day seated at a little writing-table, which +was placed beneath the small round window opening on the yard of the +Hotel Richelieu. The room was heated by a Dutch stove; a screen +enclosed my table and chair, and hid me from the observation of the +young men of fashion who often came to see my friend. In the spacious +yard below there were sounds of carriages, then silence, and now and +then bright rays of winter sun struggling against the grovelling fog of +the streets of Paris, which reminded me a little of the play of light, +the sounds of the wind, and the transparent mists of our mountains. +Sometimes I would see a sweet little boy six or eight years old playing +there; he was the son of the concierge. There was something in his face +which seemed that of a suffering angel; in his fair hair curled on his +forehead, and in his intelligent and ingenuous countenance, that +reminded me of the innocent faces of the children of my own province. +Indeed, I discovered that his family had come originally from a village +near that in which my father resided, had fallen into want, and had +been transplanted to Paris. This child had conceived a fondness for me, +from seeing me always at the window above the rooms his mother +inhabited, and had of his own accord and gratuitously devoted himself +to my service. He executed all my messages; brought me my bread, some +cheese, or the fruit for my breakfast; and went every morning to +purchase my little provisions at the grocer's. I used to take my frugal +repast on my writing-table, in the midst of my open books or +interrupted pages. The child had a black dog, which had been forgotten +at the house by some visitor; this dog had ended like the child by +attaching itself to me, and they could not be made to go down the +little wooden stairs when once they had ascended them. During the +greater part of the day, they lay and played together on the mat at my +feet beneath my table. At a later period I took away the dog with me +from Paris, and kept it many years, as a loving and faithful memento of +those days of solitude. I lost him in 1820, not without tears, in +traversing the forests of the Pontine Marshes between Rome and +Terracina. The poor child is become a man, and has learned the art of +engraving, which he practices ably at Lyons. My name having resounded +since, even in his shop, he came to see me, and wept with joy at +beholding me, and with grief at hearing of the loss of the dog. Poor +heart of man! that ever requires what it has once loved, and that sheds +tears of the same water, for the loss of an empire, or for the loss of +an animal. + + + + +LXIV. + + +During the thousands of hours in which I was thus confined between the +stove, the screen, the window, the child, and the dog, I read over all +that antiquity has written and bequeathed to us, except the poets, with +whom we had been surfeited at school, and in whose verses our wearied +eyes saw but the caaesura, and the long or short syllables. Sad effect +of premature satiety, which withers in the mind of a child the most +brightly tinted and perfumed flowers of human thought. But I read over +every philosopher, orator, and historian, in his own language. I loved +especially those who united the three great faculties of +intelligence,--narration, eloquence, and reflection; the fact, the +discourse, and the moral. Thucydides and Tacitus above all others; then +Machiavelli, the sublime practitioner of the diseases of empires; then +Cicero, the sonorous vessel which contains all, from the individual +tears of the man, the husband, the father, and the friend, up to the +catastrophes of Rome and of the world, even to his gloomy forebodings +of his own fate. There is in Cicero a stratum of divine philosophy and +serenity, through which all waters seem to be filtrated and clarified, +and through which his great mind flows in torrents of eloquence, +wisdom, piety, and harmony. I had, till then, thought him a great but +empty speaker, with little sense contained in his long periods; I was +mistaken. Next to Plato, he is the word of antiquity made man; his +style is the grandest of any language. We suppose him meagre, because +his drapery is so magnificent; but strip him of his purple and you will +still find a vast mind, which has felt, understood, and said, all that +there was to comprehend, to feel, or to say, in his day in Rome. + + + + +LXV. + + +As to Tacitus, I did not even attempt to combat my partiality for him. +I preferred him even to Thucydides, the Demosthenes of history. +Thucydides relates, but does not give life and being. Tacitus is not +the historian, but a compendium of mankind. His narration is the +counter-blow of the fact in the heart of a free, virtuous, and feeling +man. The shudder that one feels as one reads not only passes over the +flesh, but is a shudder of the heart. His sensibility is more than +emotion,--it is pity; his judgments are more than vengeance,--they are +justice; his indignation is more than anger,--it is virtue. Our hearts +mingle with that of Tacitus, and we feel proud of our kindred with him. +Would you make crime impossible to your sons? Would you inspire them +with the love of virtue? Rear them in the love of Tacitus. If they do +not become heroes at such a school, Nature must have created them base +or vile. A people who adopted Tacitus as their political gospel would +rise above the common stature of nations; such a people would enact +before God the tragical drama of mankind in all its grandeur and in all +its majesty. As to me, I owe to his writings more than the fibres of +the flesh, I owe all the metallic fibres of my being. Should our vulgar +and commonplace days ever rise to the tragic grandeur of his time, and +I become the worthy victim of a worthy cause, I might exclaim in dying, +"Give the honor of my life and of my death to the master, and not to +the disciple, for it is Tacitus that lived, and dies in me." + + + + +LXVI. + + +I was also a passionate admirer of orators. I studied them with the +presentiment of a man who would one day have to speak to the deaf +multitude, and who would strike the chords of human auditors. I studied +Demosthenes, Cicero, Mirabeau, and especially Lord Chatham,--more +striking to my mind than all the rest, because his inspired and lyrical +eloquence seems more like a cry than like a voice. It soars above his +limited audience and the passions of the day, on the loftiest wings of +poetry, to the immutable regions of eternal truth and of eternal +feeling. Chatham receives truth from the hand of God; and with him it +becomes, not only the light, but also the thunder of the debate. +Unfortunately, as in the case of Phidias at the Parthenon, we have only +fragments, heads, arms, and mutilated trunks left of him. But when in +thought we reassemble these remains, we produce marvels and divinities +of eloquence. I pictured to myself times, events, and passions, like +those which upraised these great men, a forum such as that they filled; +and like Demosthenes addressing the billows of the sea, I spoke +inwardly to the phantoms of my imagination. + + + + +LXVII. + + +About this period I read for the first time the speeches of Fox and +Pitt. I thought Fox declamatory, though prosaic; one of those cavilling +minds, born to gainsay, rather than to say,--lawyers without gowns, +with mere lip-conscience, who plead above all for their own popularity. +I saw in Pitt a statesman whose words were deeds, and who in the crash +of Europe maintained his country, almost alone, on the foundation of +his good sense, and the consistency of his character. Pitt was +Mirabeau, with less impulse and more integrity. Mirabeau and Pitt +became, and have ever continued to be, my favorite statesmen of modern +days. Compared to them, I saw in Montesquieu only erudite, ingenious, +and systematical dissertations; Fenelon seemed to me divine, but +chimerical; Rousseau, more impassioned than inspired, greater by +instinct than by truth; while Bossuet, with his golden eloquence and +fawning soul, united, in his conduct and his language before Louis +XIV., doctoral despotism with the complaisance of a courtier. From +these studies of history and oratory I naturally passed on to politics. +The remembrance of the imperial yoke which had just been shaken off, +and my abhorrence of the military rule to which we had been subjected, +impelled me towards liberty. On the other hand, family recollections; +the influence of daily associations; the touching situation of a royal +family, passing from a throne to a scaffold or to exile, and brought +back from exile to a throne; the orphan princess in the palace of her +fathers; those old men, crowned by misfortune as much as by their +ancestry; those young princes, schooled by stern adversity, from whom +so much might be expected,--all made me hope that new-born liberty +might be made to accord with the ancient monarchy of our forefathers. +The government would thus have possessed the two most potent spells in +all human affairs,--antiquity and novelty; memory and hope. It was a +fair dream, and most natural at my age. Each succeeding day, however, +dispelled a portion of that dream. I perceived with grief that old +forms but ill contain new ideas; that monarchy and liberty would never +hold together in one bond without a perpetual struggle; that in that +struggle the strength of the state would be exhausted, that monarchy +would be constantly suspected, liberty constantly betrayed. + + + + +LXVIII. + + +From these general studies I turned to another that perhaps engrossed +my mind the more from the very aridity and dryness of its nature, so +far removed from the intoxication of love and fancy in which I lived. I +mean political economy, or the science of the Wealth of Nations. + +V---- had applied his mind to it with more curiosity than ardor. All +the Italian, English, or French books that had been written on the +science lined his shelves and covered his table. We read and discussed +them together, noting down the remarks that they suggested. The science +of political economy, which at that time laid down, as it still does in +the present day, more axioms than truths, and proposed more problems +than it can solve, had for us precisely the charm of mystery. It +became, moreover, between us an endless theme for those conversations +which exercise the intelligence without engrossing the mind, and suffer +us to feel, even while conversing, the presence of the one secret and +continuous thought concealed in the inmost recesses of our hearts. It +was an enigma of which we sought the answer without any great desire to +find it. After having read, examined, and noted all that constituted +the science at that time, I fancied I could discern a few theoretical +principles true in their generality, doubtful in their application, +ambitiously aspiring to be classed among absolute truths, often hollow +or false in their formula. I had no objection to make, but my +instinctive desire of demonstration was not thoroughly satisfied. I +threw down the books and awaited the light. Political economy at that +time did not exist; being an entirely experimental science, it had +neither sufficient maturity nor long standing to affirm so positively. +Since then it has progressed and promises to statesmen a few dogmas +which may be applied cautiously to society, a few sources of general +comfort, and some new ties of fraternity, to be strengthened between +nations. + + + + +LXIX. + + +I varied these serious pursuits with the study of diplomacy or the laws +of intercourse between governments, which had always attracted me from +my early youth. Chance directed me to the fountain-head. At the time +that I applied myself to political economy I had written a pamphlet of +about a hundred pages, on a subject which at that period attracted a +great share of public attention. The title of the pamphlet was: "What +place can the nobility occupy in France under a constitutional +government?" I treated this question, which was a most delicate one at +the time, with the instinctive good sense that Nature had allotted to +me, and with the impartiality of a youthful mind, soaring without +effort above the vanities from on high, the envy from below, and the +prejudices of his day. I spoke with love of the people, with +intelligence of our institutions, and with respect of that historic +nobility whose names were long the name of France herself, on her +battlefields, in her magistracy, and in foreign lands. I was for the +suppression of all privileges of nobility, save the memory of nations, +which cannot be suppressed, and proposed an elective peerage, showing +that in a free country there could be no other nobility than that of +election, which is a perpetual stimulus to public duty, and a temporary +reward of the merit or virtues of its citizens. + +Julie, to whom I had lent the manuscript in order to initiate her in +the labors of my life, had shown it to Monsieur M----, a clever man of +her intimate acquaintance, for whose judgment she entertained the +greatest deference. M. M---- was the worthy son of an illustrious +member of the Constituent Assembly, had been the Emperor's private +secretary, and was now a constitutional royalist. He was one of those +whose minds are never youthful, who enter mature into the world, and +die young, leaving a void in their epoch. M. M----, after reading my +work, asked Julie who was the political man who had written those +pages. She smiled, and confessed that they were the production of a +very young man, who had neither name nor experience, and was quite +unknown in the political world. M. M---- required to see me to believe. +I was introduced to him, and he received me with kindness which +afterwards ripened into a friendship, that remained unchanged until his +death. My work was never printed; but M. M----, in his turn, introduced +me to his friend, M. de Reyneval, a man of luminous understanding, +open-hearted, and of an attractive and cheerful though grave and +laborious mind, who was at that time the life of our foreign policy. He +died, not long ago, while ambassador at Madrid. M. de Reyneval, who had +read my work, received me with that encouraging grace and cordial smile +which seems to overleap distance, and always wins at first sight the +heart of a young man. He was one of those men from whom it is pleasant +to learn, because they seem, so to speak, to diffuse themselves in +teaching, and to give rather than prescribe. One learned more of Europe +in a few mornings by conversing with this most agreeable man, than in a +whole diplomatic library. He possessed tact, the innate genius of +negotiations. I owe to him my taste for those high political affairs +which he handled with full consciousness of their importance, but +without seeming to feel their weight. His strength made everything +easy, and his ready condescension seemed to infuse grace and heart into +business. He encouraged my desire to enter on the diplomatic career, +presented me himself to the Director of the Archives, M. d'Hauterive, +and authorized him to allow me access to the collection of our treaties +and negotiations. M. d'Hauterive, who had grown old over despatches, +might be said to be the unalterable tradition and the living dogma of +our diplomacy. With his commanding figure, hollow voice, his thick and +powdered hair, his long, bushy eyebrows overshading a deep-set and dim +eye, he seemed a living, speaking century. He received me like a +father, and appeared happy to transmit to me the inheritance of all his +hoarded knowledge; he made me read, and take notes under his own eye, +and twice a week I used to study for a few hours under his direction. I +love the memory of his green old age, which so prodigally bestowed its +experience on a young man whose name he scarcely knew. M. d'Hauterive +died during the battle of July, 1830, amid the roar of the cannon which +annihilated the policy of the Bourbons and the treaties of 1815. + + + + +LXX. + + +Such were my studious and retired habits in my little room. I wished +for nothing more; my desire to enter on some career was in truth but my +mother's ambition for me, and the regret of expending the price of her +diamond, without some compensation in my bettered condition. If at that +time I had been offered an embassy to quit Paris, and a palace to leave +my truckle-bed in the ante-room, I would have closed my eyes not to +see, and my ears not to listen to Fortune. I was too happy in my +obscurity, thanks to the ray, invisible to others, which warmed and +illumined my darkness. + +My happiness dawned as the day declined. I habitually dined at home +alone in my cell, and my repast generally consisted of a slice of +boiled meat, some salad, and bread. I drank water only, to save the +expense of even a little wine, so necessary to correct the insipid and +often unwholesome water of Paris. By this means, twenty sous a day paid +for my dinner, and this meal was sufficient not only for myself but to +feed the dog who had adopted me. After dinner, I used to throw myself +on my bed, overcome by the application and solitude of the day, and +strove thus to abridge by sleep the long, dark hours which yet divided +me from the moment when time commenced for me. These were hours which +young men of my age spend in theatres, public places, or the expensive +amusements of a capital, as I had done before my transformation. I +generally awaked about eleven, and then dressed with the simplicity of +a young man whose good looks and figure set off his plain attire. I was +always neatly shod, besides having white linen and a black coat, +carefully brushed by my own hands, which I buttoned up to the throat, +after the fashion of the young disciples of the schools of the Middle +Ages. A military cloak, whose ample folds were thrown over my left +shoulder, preserved my dress from being splashed in the streets, and, +on the whole, my plain and unpretending costume, which neither aspired +to elegance nor betrayed my distress, admitted of my passing from my +solitude to a drawing-room without either attracting or offending the +eye of the indifferent. I always went on foot; for the price of one +evening's coach-hire would have cost me a day of my life of love. I +walked on the pavement, keeping close along the walls to avoid the +contact of carriage-wheels, and proceeded slowly on tip-toe for fear of +the mud, which in a well-lighted drawing-room would have betrayed the +humble pedestrian. I was in no hurry, for I knew that Julie received +every evening some of her husband's friends, and I preferred waiting +till the last carriage had driven away before I knocked. This reserve +on my part arose not only from the fear of the remarks which might be +made concerning my constant presence in the house of so young and +lovely a woman, but, above all, from my dislike to share with others +her looks and words. It seemed to me that each of those with whom she +was obliged to keep up a conversation robbed me of some part of her +presence or her mind. To see her, to hear her, and not to possess her +alone, were often a harder trial to me than not to see her at all. + + + + +LXXI. + + +To pass away the time I used to walk from one end to the other of a +bridge which crossed the Seine nearly opposite to the house where Julie +lived. How many thousand times I have reckoned the boards of that +bridge, which resounded beneath my feet! How many copper coins I have +thrown, as I passed and repassed, into the tin cup of the poor blind +man, who was seated through rain or snow on the parapet of that bridge! +I prayed that my mite which rung in the heart of the poor, and from +thence in the ear of God, might purchase for me in return a long and +secure evening, and the departure of some intruder who delayed my +happiness. + +Julie, who knew my dislike to meeting strangers at her house, had +devised with me a signal which should inform me from afar of the +presence or absence of visitors in her little drawing-room. When they +were numerous, the two inside shutters of the window were closed, and I +could only see a faint streak of light glimmering between the two +leaves; when there were one or two familiar friends, on the point of +leaving, one shutter was opened; and at last, when all were gone, the +two shutters were thrown open, the curtains withdrawn, and I could see +from the opposite quay the light of the lamp which stood on the little +table, where she read or worked while expecting me. I never lost sight +of that distant ray, which was visible and intelligible for me alone, +amid the thousand lights of windows, lamps, shops, carriages, and +_cafes_, and among all those avenues of fixed or wandering fires which +illumine at night the buildings and the horizon of Paris. All other +illuminations no longer existed for me,--there was no other light on +earth, no other star in the firmament but that small window, which +seemed like an open eye seeking me out in darkness, and on which my +eyes, my thoughts, my soul, were ever and solely bent. O +incomprehensible power of the infinite nature of man, which can fill +the universal space and think it too confined; or can be concentrated +in one bright speck shining through the river mists, amid the ocean of +fires of a vast city, and feel its desires, feelings, intelligence, and +love bounded by that small spark which scarce outshines the glowworm of +a summer's evening! How often have I thus thought as I paced the +bridge, muffled in my cloak! How often have I exclaimed, as I gazed at +that oval window shining in the distance: Let all the fires of earth be +quenched, let all the luminous globes of the firmament be extinguished, +but may that feeble light--the mysterious star of our two lives--shine +on forever; its glimmering would illumine countless worlds, and suffice +my eyes through all eternity! + +Alas, since then I have seen this star of my youth expire, this burning +focus of my eyes and heart extinguished! I have seen the shutters of +the window closed for many a long year on the funereal darkness of that +little room. One year, one day, I saw them once more opened. I looked +to see who dared to live where she had lived before; and then I saw, in +summer time, at that same window, bathed in sunshine and adorned with +flowers, a young woman whom I did not know playing and smiling with a +new-born child, unconscious that she played upon a grave, that her +smiles were turned to tears in the eyes of a passer-by, and that so +much life seemed as a mockery of death.... Since then, at night, I have +returned; and every year I still return, approach that wall with +faltering steps, and touch that door; and then I sit on the stone +bench, and watch the lights, and listen to the voices from above. I +sometimes fancy that I see the light reflected from her lamp; that I +hear the tones of her voice; that I can knock at that door; that she +expects me; that I can go in--...O Memory, art thou a gift from Heaven, +or pain of Hell!...But I resume my story, since you, my friend, desire +it. + + + + +LXXII. + + +The day after my arrival, Julie had introduced me to the old man, who +was to her a father, and whose latter days she brightened with the +radiance of her mind, her tenderness, and her beauty. He received me as +a son. He had learned from her our meeting in Savoy, our fraternal +attachment, our daily correspondence, and the affinity of our minds, as +shown by the conformity of our tastes, ages, and feelings. He knew the +entire purity of our attachment, and felt no jealousy, or any anxiety, +save for the life, the happiness, and reputation of his ward. He only +feared she might have been attracted and deceived by that first look, +which is sometimes a revelation, and sometimes a delusion of the young, +and that she might have bestowed her heart on a man of the creation of +her fancy. My letters, from which she had read him several passages, +had somewhat reassured him, but it was only from my countenance he +could learn whether they were an artful or natural expression of my +feelings; for style may deceive, but the countenance never can. + +The old man surveyed me with that anxious attention which is often +concealed under an appearance of momentary abstraction. But as he saw +me more, and questioned me, I could see his searching look clear up, +betray an inward satisfaction, soften gradually into one of confidence +and good-will, and rest upon me with that security and caress of the +eye, which though a mute is perhaps the best reception at a first +interview. My ardent desire to please him; the timidity so natural to a +young man, who feels that the fate of his heart depends on the judgment +passed upon him; the fear that it might not be favorable; the presence +of Julie, which disconcerted though it encouraged me; and all the +shades of thought so plainly legible in my modest attitude and my +flushed cheeks,--spoke in my favor better than I could have done +myself. The old man took my hand with a paternal gesture, and said, +"Compose yourself; and consider that you have two friends in this +house, instead of one. Julie could not have better chosen a brother, +and I would not choose another son." He embraced me, and we talked +together as if he had known me from my childhood, until an old servant +came at ten o'clock, according to his invariable custom, to give him +the help of his arm on the stair, and lead him back to his own +apartment. + + + + +LXXIII. + + +His was a beautiful and attractive old age, to which nothing was +wanting but the security of a morrow. It was so disinterested and +parental, that it in no wise offended the eye, though associated with a +young and lovely woman. It was as an evening shade upon the bloom of +morning; but one felt that it was a protecting shade, sheltering but +not withering her youth, beauty, and innocence. The features of this +celebrated man were regular as the pure outline of antique profiles +which time emaciates slightly, but cannot impair. His blue eyes had +that softened but penetrating expression of worn-out sight, as if they +looked through a slight haze. There was an arch expression of implied +meaning in his mouth; and his smile was playful as that of a father to +his little children. His hair, which age and study had thinned, was +soft and fine, like the down of a swan. His hands were white and taper +as the marble hands of the statue of Seneca taking his dying leave of +Paulina. There were no wrinkles on his face, which had become thin and +pale from the long labor of the mind, for it had never been plump. A +few blue and bloodless veins might be traced on the depressed temples; +the light of the fire was reflected on the forehead,--that latest +beauty of man, which thought chisels and polishes unceasingly. There +was in the cheek that delicacy of skin,--that transparency of a face +which has grown old within the shade of walls, and which neither wind +nor sun have ever tanned; the complexion of woman, which gives an +effeminacy to the countenance of old men, and the ethereal, fragile, +and impalpable appearance of a vision, that the slightest breath might +dispel. His calm and well-weighed expressions, naturally set in clear, +concise, and lucid phrase, had all the precision of one who has been +used to careful selection in clothing his thoughts for writing or +dictation. His sentences were interrupted by long pauses, as if to +allow time for them to penetrate the ear, and to be appreciated by the +mind of the listener; he relieved them, every now and then, by graceful +pleasantry, never degenerating into coarseness, as though he purposely +upheld the conversation on these light and sportive wings, to prevent +its being borne down by the weight of too continuous ideas. + + + + +LXXIV. + + +I soon learned to love this charming and talented old man. If I am +destined to attain old age, I should wish to grow old like him. There +was but one thing grieved me as I looked at him,--it was to see him +advancing towards death, without believing in Immortality. The natural +sciences that he had so deeply studied had accustomed his mind to trust +exclusively to the evidence of his senses. Nothing existed for him that +was not palpable; what could not be calculated contained no element of +certitude in his eyes; matter and figures composed his universe; +numbers were his god; the phenomena of Nature were his revelations, +Nature herself his Bible and his gospel; his virtue was instinct, not +seeing that numbers, phenomena, Nature, and virtue are but hieroglyphs +inscribed on the veil of the temple, whose unanimous meaning is--Deity. +Sublime but stubborn minds, who wonderfully ascend the steps of +science, one by one,--but will never pass the last, which leads to God. + + + + +LXXV. + + +This second father very soon became so fond of me, that he proposed to +give me occasionally, in his library, some lessons in those elevated +sciences which had rendered him illustrious, and now constituted his +chief relaxation. I went to him sometimes in the morning; Julie would +come at the same hours. It was a rare and touching spectacle to see +that old man seated in the midst of his books,--a monument of human +learning and philosophy, of which he had exhausted all the pages during +his long life,--discovering the mysteries of Nature and of thought to a +youth who stood beside him; while a woman, young and lovely as that +ideal philosophy, that loving wisdom,--the Beatrice of the poet of +Florence,--attended as his first disciple, and was the fellow-learner +of that younger brother. She brought the books, turned over the page, +and marked the chapters with her extended rosy finger; she moved amid +the spheres, the globes, the instruments, and the heaps of volumes, in +the dust of human knowledge; and seemed the soul of Nature disengaging +itself from matter, to kindle it and teach it to burn and love. + +I learned and understood more in a few days than in years of dry and +solitary study; but the frequent infirmities of age in the master too +often interrupted these morning lessons. + + + + +LXXVI. + + +I invariably spent a part of my night in the company of her who was to +me both night and day, time and eternity. As I have already said, I +always arrived when importunate visitors had left the drawing-room. +Sometimes I remained long hours on the quay or on the bridge, walking +or standing still by turns, and waiting in vain for the inside shutter +to open and to give the mute signal on which we had agreed. How have I +watched the sluggish waters of the Seine beneath the arches of the +bridge, bearing away in their course the trembling rays of the moon, or +the reflected light of the windows of the city. How many hours and half +hours have I not reckoned as they sounded from the near or distant +churches, and cursed their slowness or accused their speed! I knew the +tones of every brazen voice in the towers of Paris. There were lucky +and unlucky days. Sometimes I went in, without waiting an instant, and +only found her husband with her, who spent in lively talk, or friendly +conversation, the hours that unbent and prepared him for sleep. At +other times I only met one or two friends; they dropped in for a short +time, bringing the news or the excitement of the day, and devoted to +friendship the first hours of their evening, which they generally +concluded in some political drawing-room. These were in general +parliamentary men, eminent orators of the two chambers,--Suard, Bonald, +Mounier, Reyneval, Lally-Tolendal, the old man with the youthful mind, +and Laine. This latter was the most perfect copy of ancient eloquence +and virtue that I have seen to venerate in modern times; he was a Roman +in heart, in eloquence, and in appearance, and wanted but the toga to +be the Cicero or the Cato of his day. I felt peculiar admiration and +tender respect for this personification of a good citizen; he, in his +turn, took notice of me, and often distinguished me by some look and +word of preference. He has since been my master; and if one day I had +to serve my country, or to ascend a tribune, the remembrance of his +patriotism and his eloquence would be ever present to me as a model +that I could not hope to equal, but might imitate at a distance. + +These men came round the little work-table in turn, while Julie sat +half reclined upon the sofa. I remained silent and respectful in one +corner of the room, far from her, listening, reflecting, admiring, or +disapproving inwardly, but scarcely opening my lips unless questioned, +and only joining in the conversation by a few timid and cautious words +said in a low tone. With a strong conviction on most subjects, I have +always felt an extreme shyness in expressing it before such men; they +appeared to me infinitely my superiors from age and in authority. +Respect for time, for genius, and for fame is part of my nature,--a ray +of glory dazzles me; white hairs awe me; an illustrious name bows me +voluntarily before it. I have often lost something of my real value by +this timidity, but nevertheless I have never regretted it. The +consciousness of the superiority of others is a good feeling in youth, +as at all ages, for it elevates the ideal standard to which we aspire. +Self-confidence in youth is an overweening insolence towards time and +Nature. If the feeling of the superiority of others is a delusion, it +is at least a delusion which raises human nature, and is better than +that which lowers it. Alas, we but too soon reduce it to its true but +sad proportions. + +These visitors at first paid little attention to me. I used to see them +stoop towards Julie, and ask, in a low tone, who I was. My thoughtful +countenance and my immovable and modest attitude seemed to surprise and +please them; insensibly they drew towards me, or seemed by a gracious +and encouraging gesture to address some of their remarks to me. It was +an indirect invitation to take my share in the conversation. I said a +few words in grateful recognition, but I soon relapsed into my silence +and obscurity, for fear of prolonging the conversation by keeping it +up. I considered them merely as the frame of a picture; the only real +interest I felt was in the face, the speech, and the mind of her from +whom I was shut out by their presence. + + + + +LXXVII. + + +What inward joy, what throbbing of the heart, when they retired, and +when I heard beneath the gateway the rolling of the carriage which bore +away the last of them! We were then alone; the night was far advanced; +our security increased at every move of the minute hand as it +approached the figure that marked midnight on the dial. Nothing was to +be heard but the sound of a few carriages, which, at rare intervals, +rattled over the stones of the quay, or the deep breathing of the old +concierge, who was stretched sleeping on a bench in the vestibule at +the foot of the stairs. + +We would first look at each other, as if surprised at our happiness. I +would draw nearer to the table where Julie worked by the light of the +lamp. The work soon fell from her unheeding hands; our looks expanded, +our lips were unsealed, our hearts overflowed. Our choked and hurried +words, like the flow of water impeded by too narrow an opening, were at +first slowly poured forth, and the torrent of our thoughts trickled out +drop by drop. We could not select, among the many things we had to say, +those we most wished to impart to each other. Sometimes there was a +long silence, caused by the confusion and excess of crowded thoughts +which accumulated in our hearts and could not escape. Then they began +to flow slowly, like those first drops which show that the cloud is +about to dissolve or burst; these words called forth others in +response; one voice led on the other, as a falling child draws his +companion with him. Our words mingled without order, without answer, +and without connection; neither of us would yield the happiness of +outstripping the other in the expression of one common feeling. We +fancied that we had first felt what we disclosed of our thoughts since +the evening's conversation, or the morning's letter. At last this +tumultuous overflow, at which we laughed and blushed, after a time +subsided, and gave place to a calm effusion of the lips, which poured +forth together, or alternately, the plenitude of their expressions. It +was a continuous and murmuring transfusion of one soul into +another,--an unreserved interchange of our two natures,--a complete +transmutation of one into another, by the reciprocal communication of +all that breathed, or lived, or burned within us. Never, perhaps, did +two beings as irreproachable in their looks, or in their very thoughts, +bare their hearts to one another more unreservedly, and reveal the +mysterious depths of their feelings. The innocent nudity of our souls +was chaste, though unveiled, as light that discovers all, yet sullies +nothing. We had nought to reveal but the spotless love which purified +as it consumed us. + +Our love, by its very purity, was incessantly renewed, with the same +light of soul, the same unsullied transports of its first bloom. Each +day was like the first; every instant was as that ineffable moment when +we felt it dawn within us, and saw it reflected in the heart and looks +of another self. Our love would always preserve its flower and its +perfume, for the fruit could never be culled. + + + + +LXXVIII. + + +Of all the different means by which God has allowed soul to communicate +with soul, through the transparent barrier of the senses, there was not +one that our love did not employ to manifest itself,--from the look +which conveys most of ourselves, in an almost ethereal ray, to the +closed lids, which seem to enfold within us the image we have received, +that it may not evaporate; from languor to delirium, from the sigh to +the loud cry; from the long silence to those exhaustless words which +flow from the lips without pause and without end, which stop the +breath, weary the tongue, which we pronounce without hearing them, and +which have no other meaning than an impotent effort to say, again and +again, what can never be said enough.... + +Many a time did we talk thus for hours, in whispered tones, leaning on +the little table close to each other, without perceiving that our +conversation had lasted more than the space of a single aspiration; +quite surprised to find that the minutes had flown as swiftly as our +words, and that the clock struck the inexorable hour of parting. + +Sometimes there would be interrogations and answers as to our most +fugitive shades of thought and nature, dialogues in almost unheard +whispers, articulate sighs rather than audible words, blushing +confessions of our most secret inward repinings, joyful exclamations of +surprise at discovering in us both the same impressions reflected from +one another, as light in reverberations, the blow in the counterblow, +the form in the image. We would exclaim, rising by a simultaneous +impulse, "We are not two; we are one single being under two illusive +natures! Which will say you unto the other; which will say I? There is +no _I_; there is no _you_; but only _we_." ... We would then sink down, +overcome with admiration at this wonderful conformity, weeping with +delight at this twofold existence, and at having doubled our lives by +consecrating them to each other. + + + + +LXXIX. + + +Most generally we used to travel back over the past, step by step, and +recall with scrupulous minuteness every place, circumstance, and hour +which had brought on, or marked the beginning of our love,--like some +young girl who has scattered by the way the unstrung pearls of her +precious necklace, and returns upon her steps, her eyes bent upon the +ground, to find and gather them up, one by one. We would not lose the +recollection of one of those places, or one of those hours, for fear of +losing at the same time the hoarded memory of a single joy. We +remembered the mountains of Savoy; the valley of Chambery; the torrents +and the lake; the mossy ground, sometimes in shade and sometimes +dappled with light, beneath the outstretched arms of the +chestnut-trees; the rays between the branches, the glimpse of sky +through the leafy dome above our heads, the blue expanse and the white +sails at our feet; our first unsought meetings in the mountain paths; +our mutual conjectures; our encounters on the lake before we knew each +other, sailing in our boats in contrary directions, her dark hair +waving in the wind, my indifferent attitude; our looks averted from the +crowd; the double enigma that we were to each other, of which the +answer was to be eternal love; then the fatal day of the tempest, and +her fainting; the mournful night of prayers and tears; the waking in +heaven; our return together by moonlight through the avenue of poplars, +her hand in mine; her warm tears which my lips had drunk, the first +words in which our souls had spoken; our joys, our parting,--we +remembered all. + +We never wearied of these details. It was as though we had related some +story which was not our own. But what was there henceforth in the +universe save ourselves? O inexhaustible curiosity of love, thou art +not only a childish delight of the hour, thou art love itself, which +never tires of contemplating what it possesses, treasures up every +impression, each hair, each thrill, each blush, each sigh of the loved +one, as a reason for loving more, as a means of feeding anew with each +memory the flame of enthusiasm, in which it joys to be consumed! + + + + + +LXXX. + + +Julie's tears would sometimes suddenly flow from a strange sadness. She +knew me condemned, by this concealed though to us ever-present death, +to behold in her but a phantom of happiness, which would vanish ere I +could press it to my heart. She grieved and accused herself for having +inspired me with a passion which could never bring me joy. "Oh, that I +could die, die soon, die young, and still beloved!" would she say. +"Yes, die, as I can be to you but the bitter delusion of love and joy; +at once your rapture and your woe. Ah, the divinest joys and the most +cruel anguish are mingled in my destiny! Oh, that love would kill me; +and that you might survive to love after me, as your nature and your +heart should love! In dying, I shall be less wretched than I am while +feeling that I live by your sacrifices, and doom your youth and your +love to a perpetual death!" + +"Oh, blaspheme not against such ineffable joy!" I exclaimed, placing my +trembling hands beneath her eyes to receive her fast dropping tears. +"What base idea have you conceived of him whom God has thought worthy +to meet, to understand, and to love you? Are there not more oceans of +tenderness and love in this tear which falls warm from your heart, and +which I carry to my lips as the life's blood of our tortured love, than +in the thousand sated desires and guilty pleasures in which are +engulfed such vile attachments as you regret for me? Have I ever seemed +to you to desire aught else than this twofold suffering? Does it not +make of us both voluntary and pure victims? Is it not an eternal +holocaust of love, such as, from Heloise to us, the angels can scarce +have witnessed? Have I ever once reproached the Almighty, even in the +madness of my solitary nights, for having raised me by you, and for +you, above the condition of man? He has given me in you, not a woman to +be polluted by the embrace of these mortal arms, but an impalpable and +sacred incarnation of immaterial beauty. Does not the celestial fire, +which night and day burns so rapturously within me, consume all dross +of vulgar desire? Am I aught but flame? A flame as pure and holy as the +rays of your soul which first kindled it, and now feed it unceasingly +through your beaming eye! Ah, Julie, estimate yourself more worthily, +and weep not over sorrows which you imagine you inflict on me! I do not +suffer. My life is one perpetual overflow of happiness, filled by you +alone,--a repose of sense, a sleep of which you are the dream. You have +transformed my nature. I suffer? Oh, would that I could sometimes +suffer, that I might have somewhat to offer unto God, were it but the +consciousness of a privation, the bitterness of a tear, in return for +all he has given me in you! To suffer for you, might, perchance, be the +only thing which could add one drop to that cup of happiness which it +is given me to quaff. To suffer thus, is it to suffer, or to enjoy? No; +thus to live, is, in truth, to die, but it is to die some years earlier +to this wretched life, to live beforehand of the life of heaven." + + + + +LXXXI. + + +She believed it, and I myself believed it, as I spoke and raised my +hands imploringly towards her. We would part after such converse as +this, each preserving, to feed on it separately till the morrow, the +impression of the last look, the echo of the last tone, that were to +give us patience to live through the long, tedious day. When I had +crossed the threshold, I would see her open her window, lean forth amid +her flowers on the iron bar of the balcony, and follow my receding +figure as long as the misty vapors of the Seine allowed her to discern +it on the bridge. Again and again would I turn to send back a sigh and +a lingering look, and strive to tear away my soul, which would not be +parted from her. It seemed as if my very being were riven asunder,--my +spirit to return and dwell with her, while my body alone, as a mere +machine, slowly wended its way through the dark and deserted streets to +the door of the hotel where I dwelt. + + + + +LXXXII. + + +Thus passed away, without other change than that afforded by my +studies, and our ever-varying impressions, the delightful months of +winter. They were drawing to a close. The early splendors of spring +already began to glance fitfully from the roofs upon the damp and +gloomy wilderness of the streets of Paris. My friend V----, recalled by +his mother, was gone, and had left me alone in the little room where he +had harbored me during my stay. He was to return in the autumn, and had +paid for the lodging for a whole year, so that, though absent, he still +extended to me his brotherly hospitality. It was with sorrow I saw him +depart; none remained to whom I could speak of Julie. The burden of my +feelings would now be doubly heavy, when I could no longer relieve +myself by resting it on the heart of another; but it was a weight of +happiness,--I could still uphold it. It was soon to become a load of +anguish, which I could confide to no living being, and least of all to +her whom I loved. + +My mother wrote me, that straightened means, caused by unexpected +reverses of fortune, which had fallen on my father in quick and harsh +succession, had reduced to comparative indigence our once open and +hospitable paternal home, obliging my poor father to withhold the half +of my allowance, to enable him to meet, and that only with much +difficulty, the expense of maintaining and educating six other +children. It was therefore incumbent upon me, she said, either by my +own unaided efforts to maintain myself honorably in Paris, or to return +home and live with resignation in the country, sharing the common +pittance of all. My mother's tenderness sought beforehand to comfort me +under this sad necessity; she dwelt on the joy it would be to her to +see me again, and placed before me, in most attractive colors, the +prospect of the labors and simple pleasures of a rural life. On the +other hand, some of the associates of my early years of gambling and +dissipation, who had now fallen into poverty, having met me in Paris, +reminded me of sundry trifling obligations which I had contracted +towards them, and begged me to come to their assistance. They stripped +me thus, by degrees, of the greater part of that little hoard which I +had saved by strict economy, to enable me to live longer in Paris. My +purse was well-nigh empty, and I began to think of courting fortune +through fame. One morning, after a desperate struggle between timidity +and love, love triumphed. I concealed beneath my coat my small +manuscript, bound in green, containing my verses, my last hope; and +though wavering and uncertain in my design, I turned my steps towards +the house of a celebrated publisher whose name is associated with the +progress of literature and typography in France, Monsieur Didot. I was +first attracted to this name because M. Didot, independently of his +celebrity as a publisher, enjoyed at that time some reputation as an +author. He had published his own verses with all the elegance, pomp and +circumstance of a poet who could himself control the approving voice of +Fame. + +When before M. Didot's door in the Rue Jacob, a door all papered with +illustrious names, a redoubled effort on my part was required to cross +the threshold, another to ascend the stairs, another still more violent +to ring at his door. But I saw the adored image of Julie encouraging +me, and her hand impelled me. I dared do anything. + +I was politely received by M. Didot, a middle-aged man with a precise +and commercial air, whose speech was brief and plain as that of a man +who knows the value of minutes. He desired to know what I had to say to +him. I stammered for some time, and became embarrassed in one of those +labyrinths of ambiguous phrases under which one conceals thoughts that +will and will not come to the point. I thought to gain courage by +gaining time; at last I unbuttoned my coat, drew out the little volume, +and presented it humbly with a trembling hand to M. Didot. I told him +that I had written these verses, and wished to have them +published,--not indeed to bring me fame (I had not that absurd +delusion), but in the hope of attracting the notice and good-will of +influential literary men; that my poverty would not permit of my going +to the expense of printing; and, therefore, I came to submit my work to +him, and request him to publish it, should he, after looking over it, +deem it worthy of the indulgence or favor of cultivated minds. M. Didot +nodded, smiled kindly, but somewhat ironically, took my manuscript +between two fingers, which seemed accustomed to crumple paper +contemptuously, and putting down my verses on the table, appointed me +to return in a week for an answer as to the object of my visit. I took +my leave. The next seven days appeared to me seven centuries. My future +prospects, my favor, my mother's consolation or despair, my love,--in a +word, my life or death, were in the hands of M. Didot. At times, I +pictured him to myself reading my verses with the same rapture that had +inspired me on my mountains, or on the brink of my native torrents; I +fancied he saw in them the dew of my heart, the tears of my eyes, the +blood of my young veins; that he called together his literary friends +to listen to them, and that I heard from my alcove the sound of their +applause. At others, I blushed to think I had exposed to the inspection +of a stranger a work so unworthy of seeing the light; that I had +discovered my weakness and my impotence in a vain hope of success, +which would be changed into humiliation, instead of being converted +into gold and joy within my grasp. Hope, however, as persevering as my +distress, often got the upper hand in my dreams, and led me on from +hour to hour until the day appointed by M. Didot. + + + + +LXXXIII. + + +My heart failed as, on the eighth day, I ascended his stairs. I +remained a long while standing on the landing-place at his door without +daring to ring. At last some one came out, the door was opened, and I +was obliged to go in. M. Didot's face was as unexpressive and as +ambiguous as an oracle. He requested me to be seated, and while looking +for my manuscript, which was buried beneath heaps of papers, "I have +read your verses, sir," he said; "there is some talent in them, but no +study. They are unlike all that is received and appreciated in our +poets. It is difficult to see whence you have derived the language, +ideas and imagery of your poetry, which cannot be classed in any +definite style. It is a pity, for there is no want of harmony. You must +renounce these novelties which would lead astray our national genius. +Read our masters,--Delille, Parny, Michaud, Reynouard, Luce de +Lancival, Fontanes; these are the poets that the public loves. You must +resemble some one, if you wish to be recognized, and to be read. I +should advise you ill if I induced you to publish this volume, and I +should be doing you a sorry service in publishing it at my expense." So +saying, he rose, and gave me back my manuscript. I did not attempt to +contest the point with Fate, which spoke in the voice of the oracle. I +took up the volume, thanked M. Didot, and, offering some excuse for +having trespassed on his time, I went downstairs, my legs trembling +beneath me, and my eyes moistened with tears. + +Ah, if M. Didot, who was a kind and feeling man, a patron of letters, +could have read in my heart, and have understood that it was neither +fame nor fortune that the unknown youth came to beg, with his book in +his hand; that it was life and love I sued for--I am sure he would have +printed my volume. He would have been repaid in heaven, at least. + + + + +LXXXIV. + + +I returned to my room in despair. The child and the dog wondered, for +the first time, at my sullen silence, and at the gloom that overspread +my countenance. I lighted the stove, and threw in, sheet by sheet, my +whole volume, without sparing a single page. "Since thou canst not +purchase for me a single day of life and love," I exclaimed, as I +watched it burning, "what care I if the immortality of my name be +consumed with thee? Love, not fame, is my immortality." + +That same evening, I went out at nightfall. I sold my poor mother's +diamond. Till then I had kept it, in the hope that my verses might have +redeemed its value, and that I might preserve it untouched. As I handed +it to the jeweller, I kissed it by stealth, and wet it with my tears. +He seemed affected himself, and felt convinced that the diamond was +honestly mine by the grief I testified in disposing of it. The thirty +louis he gave me for it fell from my hands as I reckoned them, as if +the gold had been the price of a sacrilege. Oh, how many diamonds, +twenty times superior in price, would I not often have given since, to +repurchase that same diamond, unique in my eyes!--a fragment of my +mother's heart, one of the last teardrops from her eye, the light of +her love!... On what hand does it sparkle now?... + + + + +LXXXV. + + +Spring had returned. The Tuileries cast each morning upon their idlers +the green shade of their leaves, and showered down the fragrant snow of +their horse-chestnut trees. From the bridges I could perceive beyond +the stony horizon of Chaillot and Passy the long line of verdant and +undulating hills of Fleury, Meudon, and St. Cloud. These hills seemed +to rise as cool and solitary islands in the midst of a chalky ocean. +They raised in my heart feelings of remorse and poignant reproach, and +were images and remembrances which awaked the craving after Nature that +had lain dormant for six months. The broken rays of moonlight floated +at night upon the tepid waters of the river, and the dreamy orb opened, +as far as the Seine could be traced, luminous and fantastic vistas +where the eye lost itself in landscapes of shade and vapor. +Involuntarily the soul followed the eye. The front of the shops, the +balconies, and the windows of the quays were covered with vases of +flowers which shed forth their perfume even on the passers-by. At the +corners of the streets, or the ends of the bridges, the flower-girls, +seated behind screens of flowering plants, waved branches of lilac, as +if to embalm the town. In Julie's room the hearth was converted into a +mossy grotto; the consoles and tables had each their vases of +primroses, violets, lilies of the valley, and roses. Poor flowers, +exiles from the fields! Thus swallows who have heedlessly flown into a +room bruise their own wings against the walls, while announcing to the +poor inhabitants of dismal garrets the approach of April and its sunny +days. The perfume of the flowers penetrated to our hearts, and our +thoughts were brought back, under the impression of their fragrance and +the images it evoked, to that Nature in the midst of which we had been +so isolated and so happy. We had forgotten her while the days were +dark, the sky gloomy, and the horizon bounded. Shut up in a small room +where we were all in all to each other, we never thought that there was +another sky, another sun, another nature beyond our own. These fine, +sunny days, glimpses of which we caught from among the roofs of an +immense city, recalled them to our minds. They agitated and saddened +us; they inspired us with an invincible desire to contemplate and to +enjoy them in the forests and solitudes which surround Paris. It seemed +to us while indulging these irresistible longings, and projecting +distant walks together in the woods of Fontainebleau, Vincennes, St. +Germain, and Versailles, that we should be again, as it were, amid the +woods and waters of our Alpine valleys, that at least we should see the +same sun and the same shade and recognize the harmonious sighing of the +same winds in the branches. + +Spring, which was restoring to the sky its transparency and to the +plants their sap, seemed also to give new youth and pulsation to +Julie's heart. The tint upon her cheeks was brighter; her eyes more +blue, their rays more penetrating. There was more emotion in the tone +of her voice; the languor of her frame was relieved by more frequent +sighs; there was more elasticity in her walk, more youthfulness in her +attitudes; even in the stillness of her chamber, a pleasant though +feverish agitation produced a petulant movement of her feet, and sent +the words more hurriedly to her lips. In the evening Julie would undraw +the curtains, and frequently lean forth from her window to take in the +freshness of the water, the rays of the moon, and the breath of the +fragrant breeze which swept along the valley of Meudon, and was wafted +even into the apartments on the quay. + +"Oh, let us give," said I, "a joyous holiday to our hearts amid all our +happiness! Of all God's creatures for whom he reanimates his earth and +his heavens, let not us, the most feeling and the most grateful, be the +only beings for whom they shall have been reanimated in vain! Let us +together dive into that air, that light, that verdure; amid those +sprouting branches, in that flood of life and vegetation, which is even +now inundating the whole earth! Let us go, let us see if naught in the +works of his creation has grown old by the weight of an added day; if +naught in that enthusiasm, which sang and groaned, loved and lamented +within us, on the mountains and on the waters of Savoy, has been +lowered by one ripple or one note!" "Yes, let us go," said she. "We +shall neither feel more, nor love better, nor bless otherwise; but we +shall have made another sky and another spot of earth witness the +happiness of two poor mortals. That temple of our love which was in our +loved mountains only will then be wherever I shall have wandered and +breathed with you." The old man encouraged these excursions to the fine +forests around Paris. He hoped, and the doctors led him to expect, that +the air laden with life, the influence of the sun, which strengthens +all things, with moderate exercise in the open fields, might invigorate +the too sensitive delicacy of Julie's nerves and give elasticity to her +heart. Every sunny day, during the five weeks of early spring, I came +at noon to fetch her. We entered a close carriage in order to avoid the +inquisitive looks and light observations of any of her acquaintances +whom we might chance to meet, or the remarks that even strangers might +have made on seeing so young and lovely a woman alone with a man of my +age; for we were not sufficiently alike to pass for brother and sister. +We left the carriage on the skirts of the woods, at the foot of the +hills, or at the gates of the parks in the environs of Paris, and +sought out at Fleury, at Meudon, at Sevres, at Satory, and at Vincennes +the longest and most solitary paths, carpeted with turf and flowers, +untrodden by horses' hoofs, except perhaps on the day of a royal hunt. +We never met any one, save a few children or poor women busy with their +knives digging up endive. Occasionally a startled doe would rustle +through the leaves, and springing across the path, after a glance at +us, dive into the thicket. We walked in silence, sometimes preceding +each other, sometimes arm in arm, or we talked of the future, of the +delight it would be to possess one out of all these untenanted acres, +with a keeper's lodge under one of the old oaks. We dreamed aloud. We +picked violets and the wild periwinkle, which we interchanged as +hieroglyphics and preserved in the smooth leaves of the hellebore. To +each of these flowery letters we linked a meaning, a remembrance, a +look, a sigh, a prayer. We kept them to reperuse when parted; they were +destined to recall each precious moment of these blissful hours. + +We often sat in the shade by the side of the path, and opened a book +which we tried to read; but we could never turn the first leaf, and +ever preferred reading in ourselves the inexhaustible pages of our own +feelings. I went to fetch milk and brown bread from some neighboring +farm; we ate, seated on the grass, throwing the remains of the cup to +the ants, and the crumbs of bread to the birds. At sunset we returned +to the tumultuous ocean of Paris, the noise and crowd of which jarred +upon our hearts. I left Julie, excited by the enjoyment of the day, at +her own door, and then went back, overcome with happiness, to my +solitary room, the walls of which I would strike and bid them crumble, +that I might be restored to the light, Nature, and love which they shut +out. I dined without relish, read without understanding; I lighted my +lamp and waited, reckoning the hours as they passed, till the evening +was far enough advanced for me to venture again to her door, and renew +the enjoyment of the morning. + + + + +LXXXVI. + + +The next day we recommenced our wanderings. Ah, in those forests, how +many trees, marked by my knife, bear on their roots or bark a sign by +which I shall ever recognize them! They are those whose shade she +enjoyed; those beneath which she breathed new life, basked in the +warmth of the sun, or inhaled the sweet vernal scent of the trees. The +stranger sees, but dreams not that they are to another the pillars of a +temple, whose worshipper is on earth though its divinity is in heaven. +I still visit them once or twice each spring, on the anniversaries of +these walks; and when the axe lays one low, it seems to me as though it +falls upon myself, and carries away a portion of my heart. + + + + +LXXXVII. + + +On one of the highest and most generally solitary summits of the park +of St. Cloud, where the rounded hill descends in two separate slopes, +one towards the valley of Sevres, and the other towards the hollow +where the Chateau stands, there is an open space where three long +avenues meet. From thence the eye discovers from afar the rare +passengers that intrude on the solitude of the place. The hill, like a +promontory, overlooks the plain of Issy, the course of the Seine, and +the road to Versailles; its summit, clothed and overshaded by the +forest which fills up the triangular intervals between the three +avenues, appears like the rounded basin of a lake of which grass and +foliage are the billows. If one looks towards Sevres, one sees only a +long and sloping meadow stretching down towards the river like a +verdant and undulating cascade, which, after a rapid descent, loses +itself at the bottom of the valley in dark masses of thickets stocked +with deer. Beyond these thickets, on the other side of the Seine, the +blue slated roofs of Meudon, and the waving tops of the majestic trees +of its park, stand out in the blue summer sky. We often came to sit on +this hill, which has all the elevation of a promontory, the silence and +shade of a valley, and the solitude of a desert. The lungs play freer +there; the ear is less disturbed by the sounds of earth; the soul can +better wing its flight beyond the horizon of this life. + +We went there one morning early in May, at the hour when the forest is +peopled only by the deer, which bound and skip in its lonely paths. Now +and then a gamekeeper crosses the extremity of one of the avenues, like +a black speck on the horizon. We sat down under the seventh tree of the +semi-circle round the open space, looking towards the meadows of +Sevres. Centuries have been required to frame that sturdy oak, and to +bend its gnarled branches; its roots, swelling with sap to nourish and +support its trunk, have burst through the sod at its feet, and form a +moss-covered seat, of which the oak is the back, and its lower leaves +the natural canopy. The morning was as serene and transparent as the +waters of the sea at sunrise under the green headlands of the islands +of the Archipelago. The ardent rays of an almost summer sun fell from +the clear sky on the wooded hill, and then rose again from out of the +thickets in exhalations warm as the waves which expire in the shade +after having imbibed the sunshine. There was no other sound than that +of the fall of some dry leaves of the preceding winter, which, as the +sap rose and throbbed, fell at the foot of the tree, to make room for +the new and tender foliage. Whole flights of birds dashed against the +branches round their nests, and there was one vague, universal hum of +insects that revelled in the light, and rose and fell, like a living +dust, at the least undulation of the flowering grass. + + + + +LXXXVIII. + + +There was so much sympathy between our youth and the youthful year and +day; such entire harmony between the light, the heat, the splendor, the +silence, the gentle sounds, the pensive delights of Nature and our own +sensations; we felt so delightfully mingled with the surrounding air +and sky, life and repose; we were so completely all to each other in +this solitude,--that our exuberant but satisfied thoughts and +sensations sufficed us. We did not even seek for words to express them; +but were as the full vase, whose very plenitude renders its contents +motionless. Our hearts could hold no more; but they were capacious +enough to contain all, and nothing sought to escape from them. Our +breathing was scarcely audible. + +I know not how long we remained thus seated at the foot of the oak, +mute and motionless beside one another, our faces buried in our hands, +our feet in sunshine on the grass, our heads in shade; but when I +raised my eyes the shadows had retreated before us on the grass, beyond +the folds of Julie's dress. I looked at her, she raised her face as if +by the same impulse which had made me raise mine; and gazing at me +without saying a word, she burst into tears. "Why do you weep?" I asked +with anxious emotion, but in a low tone for fear of disturbing or +diverting the course of her silent thoughts. "From happiness," she +answered. Her lips smiled, while big tears rolled down her cheeks in +shining drops, like the dew of spring. "Yes, from happiness," she +resumed. "This day, this hour, this sky, this spot, this peace, this +silence, this solitude with you, this complete assimilation of our two +souls, which no longer require to converse to comprehend each other, +which breathe in the same aspiration is too much,--too much for mortal +nature that excess of joy may kill, as excess of grief, and which, when +it can draw no cry from the heart, grieves that it cannot sigh, and +mourns that it cannot praise sufficiently." + +She stopped for an instant; her cheeks were flushed. I trembled lest +death should seize her in her joy; but her voice soon reassured me. +"Raphael! Raphael!" she exclaimed in a solemn tone, which surprised me, +as if she had been announcing some good tidings, long and anxiously +expected,--"Raphael, there is a God!" "How has he been revealed to you +to-day more clearly than any other day?" I asked. "By love," she +answered, raising slowly to heaven the orbs of her bright, glistening +eyes; "yes, by love, whose torrents have flowed in my heart just now +with a murmuring, gushing fulness that I had never felt before with the +same force, nor yet the same repose. No, I no longer doubt," she +continued in a tone where certitude mingled with joy; "the spring +whence such felicity is poured upon the soul cannot be here below, nor +can it lose itself in this earth after having once gushed forth! There +is a God; there is an eternal love, of which ours is but a drop. We +will together mingle it one day with the divine ocean whence we drew +it! That ocean is God! I see it; feel it; understand it in this instant +by my happiness! Raphael, it is no longer you I love; it is no longer I +you love,--it is God we henceforth adore in one another; you in me, and +I in you, both, in these tears of bliss which reveal to us, and yet +conceal, the immortal fountain of our hearts! Away," she added, with a +still more ardent tone and look,--"away with all the vain names by +which we have hitherto called our attraction towards each other. I know +but one to express it; it is the one which has just been revealed to me +in your eyes: God! God! God!" she exclaimed once more, as though she +had wished to teach her lips a new language. "God is in you; God is in +me for you! God is us; and henceforward the feelings which oppressed us +will no longer be love, but a holy and rapturous adoration! Raphael, do +you understand me? You will no longer be Raphael, you will be my +worship of God!" + +We rose in a transport of enthusiasm; we embraced the tree, and blessed +it for the inspiration which had descended from its boughs; we gave it +a name, and called it the tree of adoration. + +We then slowly descended the hill of St. Cloud to return to the noise +and turmoil of Paris; but she returned with new-found faith and the +knowledge of God in her heart, and I with the joy of knowing that she +now possessed a bright and inward source of consolation, hope and +peace. + + + + +LXXXIX. + + +In a very short time, the expense I was obliged to incur but which I +concealed from Julie, in order to accompany her on our daily country +excursions, had so far exhausted the proceeds of the sale of my +mother's last diamond that I had only ten louis left. When each night I +reckoned over the limited number of happy days represented by that +small sum, I was seized with fits of despondency, but I should have +blushed to confess my excessive poverty to her I loved. Though far from +wealthy she would have wished to share with me all she possessed, and +that would have degraded our intercourse in my eyes. I valued my love +more than life, but I would rather have died than have debased my love. + +The sedentary life I had led all the winter in my dismal room, my +intense application to study all day, the tension of my thoughts +towards one object, the want of sleep at night, but, above all, the +moral exhaustion of a heart too weak to bear a continuous ecstasy of +ten months, had undermined my constitution. A consuming flame, which +burned unfed, shone through my wan and pale face. Julie implored me to +leave Paris, to try the effect of my native air, and to preserve my +life, even at the expense of her happiness. She sent me her doctor, to +add the authority of science to the entreaties of her love. Her doctor, +or rather her friend, Dr. Alain, was one of those men who carry a +blessing with them, and whose countenance seems to reflect Heaven by +the bedside of the sick poor they visit. He was himself suffering from +a complaint of the heart brought on by a pure and mysterious passion +for one of the loveliest women in Paris. + +He was active, humane, pious, and tolerant, and possessing a small +fortune sufficient for his simple wants and charities, practiced only +for a few friends or for the poor. His physic was friendship or charity +in action. The medical career is so admirable when divested of all +cupidity, it brings so much into play the better feelings of our +nature, that it often ends by being a virtue after commencing as a +profession, With Dr. Alain it was more than a virtue; it had become a +passion for relieving the woes of the body and of the soul, which are +often so closely linked! Where Alain brought life, he also took God +with him, and made even Death resplendent with serenity and +immortality. + +I saw him, too, die, some years later, the death of the righteous and +the just. He had learned how to die at many deathbeds; and when +stretched motionless on his, during six months of agony, his eye +counted on a little clock, which stood at the foot of his bed, the +hours that divided him from eternity. He pressed upon his bosom, with +his crossed hands, a crucifix, emblem of patience, and his look never +quitted that celestial friend, as though he had conversed at the foot +of the cross. When he suffered beyond his powers of endurance he +requested that the crucifix might be approached to his lips, and his +prayers were then mingled with thanksgiving. At last he slept, +supported to the end by his hopes and the memory of the good he had +done. He had given the poor and the sick an accumulated treasure of +good works to carry before him into the presence of the God of the +merciful. He died on a wretched bed in a garret, leaving no +inheritance. The poor bore his body to the grave, and, in their turn, +gave him the burial of charity in the common earth. O blessed soul, +that in memory, I still see smiling on that kind countenance, lighted +with inward joy, can so much virtue have been to thee but a deception? +Hast thou vanished like the reflection of my lamp upon thy portrait, +when my hand withdraws the light that allowed me to contemplate it? No, +no; God is faithful, and cannot have deceived thee, who wouldst not +have deceived a child! + + + + +XC. + + +The doctor took a deep and friendly interest in me. It seemed as if +Julie had imparted to him a portion of her tenderness. He understood my +complaint, though he concealed his knowledge from me, and was too +deeply read in human passion not to recognize its symptoms in us. He +ordered me to depart under penalty of death, and induced Julie herself +to enforce his commands by communicating to her his fears. He invoked +the tender authority of love to tear me from love. He tried to mitigate +the pang of separation by the allurement of hope, and ordered me to +breathe some time my native air, and then return to the baths of Savoy, +where Julie should join me, by his advice, in the beginning of autumn. +His principles did not seem startled by the symptoms of mutual passion +which he had not failed to perceive between us. Our pure flame was in +his eyes a fault, but it was also its own purification. His countenance +only expressed the indulgence of man, and the compassion of God. He +thus endeavored to save us by loosening the tie which threatened to +draw us to one common death. I at length consented to be the first to +depart, and Julie swore to follow me soon. Alas, her tears, her pale +face, and trembling lips said more than any vows! It was settled that I +should leave Paris as soon as my strength permitted me to travel. The +eighteenth of May was the day fixed for my departure. + +When once we had resolved on our approaching separation we began to +reckon the minutes as hours, the hours as days. We would have amassed +and concentrated years into the short space of a second, to wrest from +time the happiness from which we were to be debarred during so many +months. These days were days of rapture, but they had their anguish and +their agony; the approaching morrow cast its gloom upon each interview, +each look and word, each pressure of the hand. Joys such as these are +not joys, but disguised pangs of love and tortures of the heart. We +devoted the whole day preceding my departure to our adieus. We wished +not to say our last farewell within the shadow of walls, which weigh +down the soul, or beneath the eyes of the indifferent, which throw back +the feelings on the heart, but beneath the sky, in the open air, in the +light, in solitude, and in silence. Nature sympathizes with all the +emotions of man; she understands, and, as an invisible confidant, seems +to share them. She garners them in heaven, and renders them divine. + + + + +XCI. + + +In the morning, a carriage, which I had hired for the day, conveyed us +to Monceau. The windows were down, the blinds closed. We traversed the +almost deserted streets of the more elevated parts of Paris, leading to +the high walls of the park. This garden was at that time almost +exclusively reserved for their own use by the princes to whom it +belonged, and could only be entered on presenting tickets of admission, +which were very parsimoniously distributed to a few foreigners or +travellers desirous of admiring its wonderful vegetation. I had +obtained some of these tickets, through one of my mother's early +friends who was attached to the prince's household. I had selected this +solitude because I knew its owners were absent, that no admissions were +then given, and that the very gardeners would be away enjoying the +leisure of a holiday. + +This magnificent desert, studded with groves of trees, interspersed +with meadows, and traversed by limpid streams, is also embellished by +monuments, columns, and ivy-covered ruins, imitations of time in which +art has copied the old age of stone. That day we knew it would be +visited only by the bright sunbeams, the insects, the birds, and us. +Alas, never were its leaves and its green turf to be watered by so many +tears! + +The warm and glowing sky, the light and shade dancing fitfully on the +grass driven by the summer breeze, as the shadow of the wings of one +bird pursuing another; the clear note of the nightingale ringing +through the sonorous air; the distinctness with which the lilies of the +valley, the daisies, and the blue periwinkles which carpeted the +sloping banks of the clear waters, were reflected in their polished +mirror,--all this gladness of Nature saddened us, and this luminous +serenity of a spring morning only seemed to contrast the more with the +dark cloud which weighed upon our hearts. In vain we sought to deceive +ourselves even for a moment by expatiating on the beauty of the +landscape, the brilliant tints of the flowers, the perfumes of the air, +the depth of the shade, the stillness of those solitudes in which the +happiness of a whole world of love might have been sheltered. We +carelessly threw on them an unheeding glance, which quickly fell to the +ground; our voices, when answering with their vain formulas of joy and +admiration, betrayed the hollowness of words and the absence of our +thoughts, which were elsewhere. It was in vain we sought a +resting-place to pass the long hours of this our last interview; +seating ourselves alternately beneath the most fragrant lilacs, or the +green branches of the loftiest cedars, on the fluted fragments of +columns half-buried in ivy, or by the side of those waters that lay +most still within their grassy banks, for scarcely had we chosen one of +these sites when some vague disquietude drove us away in search of +another. Here it was the shade, and there the light; further on, the +importunate murmur of the cascade, or the persisting song of the +nightingale over our heads,--that turned into bitterness all this +exuberance of joy, and made it odious in our eyes. When our heart is +sad within us, all creation jars upon our feelings, and it could but +have added fresh pangs to the grief of two lovers, had the garden of +Eden been the scene of their parting. + +At last, worn out by wandering for two hours, and finding no shelter +against ourselves, we sat down near a small bridge across a stream; a +little apart, as if the very sound of each other's breathing had been +painful, or as if we had wished instinctively to conceal from one +another the suppressed sobs which were bursting from our hearts. We +long watched abstractedly the green and slimy water as it was slowly +swept beneath the narrow arch of the bridge. It carried along on its +surface sometimes the white petals of the lily, and sometimes an empty +and downy bird's nest which the wind had blown from a tree. We soon saw +the body of a poor little swallow, turned on its back, and with +extended wings, floating down. It had, doubtless, been drowned when +skimming over the water before its wings were strong enough to bear it +on the surface; it reminded us of the swallow which had one day fallen +at our feet, from the top of the dismantled tower of the old castle on +the borders of the lake, and which had saddened us as an omen. The dead +bird passed slowly before us, and the unruffled sheet of water rolled +and engulfed it in the deep darkness below the bridge. When the bird +had disappeared, we saw another swallow pass and repass a hundred times +beneath the bridge, uttering its little sharp cry of distress, and +dashing against the wooden beams of the arch. Involuntarily we looked +at each other; I cannot tell what our eyes expressed as they met, but +the despair of the poor bird found us with our eyelids so overcharged, +and our hearts so nearly bursting, that we both turned away at the same +moment, and throwing ourselves with our faces to the ground, sobbed +aloud. One tear called forth another tear, one thought another thought, +one foreboding another foreboding, each sob another sob. We often +strove to speak, but the broken voice of the one only made that of the +other still more inaudible, and we ended by yielding to nature, and +pouring forth in silence, during hours marked by the shadows alone, all +the tears that rose from their hidden springs. They fell on the grass, +sank into the earth, were dried by the winds of heaven, absorbed by the +rays of the sun,--God took them into account! No drop of anguish +remained in our hearts when we rose face to face though almost hidden +from each other by the tearful veil of our eyes. Such was our +farewell,--a funereal image, an ocean of tears, an eternal silence. +Thus we parted without another look, lest that look should strike us to +the earth. Never will the mark of my footsteps be again traced in that +desert scene of our love and of our parting. + + + + +XCII. + + +The next morning I was rolling along, sad and silent, wrapped in my +cloak, among the barren hills on the road that leads from Paris towards +the south. I was stowed away in a public coach, with five or six +unknown fellow-travellers who were gayly discussing the quality of the +wine and the price of the last dinner at the inn. I never once opened +my lips during that long, sad journey. + +My mother received me with that serene and resigned tenderness which +might have made even misfortune happy in her company. Her diamond had +been spent in vain to advance my fortunes; and I returned home, with +shattered health and broken hopes, consumed with melancholy that she +attributed to my unoccupied youth and restless imagination, but of +which I carefully concealed the real cause, for fear of adding an +irremediable sorrow to all her other griefs. + +I spent the summer alone in an almost deserted valley enclosed between +barren hills, where my father had a little farm, which was worked by a +poor family. My mother had sent me there, and commended me to the care +of these good people, that I might have a change of air and the benefit +of milk diet. My whole occupation was to reckon the days which must +intervene before I could join Julie in our dear Alpine valley. Her +letters, received and replied to daily, confirmed me in my security, +and dispelled, by their sportive gayety and caressing words, the gloomy +and sinister forebodings our last farewell had raised in my heart. Now +and then some desponding word or expression of sadness which seemed to +have unguardedly escaped, or been involuntarily overlooked among her +vistas of happiness, as a dry leaf in the midst of the foliage of +spring, struck me as being in contradiction with the calm and blooming +health she spoke of. But I attributed these discrepancies to some +vision of memory or to her impatience at the slowness of time which +might have flitted like shadows across the paper as she wrote. + +The bracing mountain air, sleep at night, and exercise by day, the +healthy employment of working in the garden and in the farm, soon +restored me to health; but, above all, the approach of autumn, and the +certainty of soon seeing her once more who by her looks would give me +life. The only remaining trace of my sufferings was a gentle and +pensive melancholy which overspread my countenance; it was as the mist +of a summer's morning. My silence seemed to conceal some mystery, and +my instinctive love of solitude made the superstitious peasants of the +mountains believe that I conversed with the Genii of the woods. + +All ambition had been extinguished in me by my love. I had made up my +mind for life to my hopeless poverty and obscurity, and my mother's +serene and pious resignation had entered into my heart with her holy +and gentle words. I only indulged the dream of working during ten or +eleven months of the year manually, or with my pen to earn sufficiently +thereby to spend a month or two with Julie every year. I thought that +if the old man's protection were one day to fail, I would devote myself +to her service as a slave, like Rousseau to Madame de Warens; we would +take shelter in some secluded cottage of these mountains, or in the +well-known chalets of our Savoy; I would live for her, as she would +live for me, without looking back with regret to the empty world, and +asking of love no other reward than the happiness of loving. + + + + +XCIII. + + +I was, however, often recalled harshly from my dreamy region by the +cruel penury of my home, which was partly attributable to the +unavailing expense incurred for me. Crops had failed during successive +years, and reverses of fortune had changed the humble mediocrity of my +parents into comparative want. When on Sundays I went to see my mother, +she spoke of her distress, and before me shed tears that she concealed +from my father and my sisters. I, too, was reduced to extreme +destitution. I lived at the little farm on brown bread, milk, and eggs, +and had in secret sold successively in the neighboring town all the +books and clothes I had brought from Paris, to procure wherewithal to +pay the postage of Julie's letters, for which I would have sold my +life's blood. + +The month of September was drawing to a close. Julie wrote me that her +anxiety on the score of her husband's daily declining health (O pious +fraud of love to conceal her own sufferings and lighten my cares) would +detain her longer in Paris than she had expected. She pressed me to +start at once, and await her in Savoy, where she would join me without +fail towards the end of October. The letter was one of tender advice, +as that of a sister to a beloved brother. She implored and ordered me, +with the sovereign authority of love, to beware of that insidious +disease which lurks beneath the flowery surface of youth, and often +withers and consumes us at the very moment we think that we have +overcome its power. Enclosed, she sent a consultation and a +prescription from good Dr. Alain, ordering me in the most imperative +terms, and with most alarming threats, to remain during a long season +at the baths of Aix. I showed this prescription to my mother, to +account for my departure, and she was so disquieted by it that she +added her entreaties to the injunctions of the doctor to induce me to +go. Alas! I had in vain applied to a few friends as poor as myself, and +to some pitiless usurers, to obtain the trifling sum of twelve louis +required for my journey. My father had been absent six months, and my +mother would on no account have aggravated his distress and anxiety by +asking him for money. In borrowing he would have exposed his poverty, +by which he was already too much humbled. I had made up my mind to +start with two or three louis only in my purse, in the hope of +borrowing the remainder from my friend L----, at Chambery; when, a few +days before my departure, my mother, during a sleepless night, had +found in her heart a resource that a mother's heart could alone have +furnished. + + + + +XCIV. + + +In one of the comers of the little garden that surrounded our house +there stood a cluster of trees, comprising a few evergreen oaks, two or +three lime trees, and seven or eight twisted elms, which were the +remains of a wood, planted centuries ago, and had, doubtless, been +respected as the _local Genius_ when the hill had been cleared, the +house built, and the garden first walled in. These lofty trees in +summer time served as a family saloon, in the open air. Their buds in +spring, their tints in autumn, and their dry leaves in winter, which +were succeeded by the hoar frost hanging from their branches like white +hair, had marked the seasons for us. Their shadows, rolled back upon +their very feet, or stretched out to the grassy border around, told us +the hours better than a dial. Beneath their foliage our mother had +nursed us, lulled us to rest, and taught us our first steps. My father +sat there, book in hand, when he returned from shooting; his shining +gun suspended from a branch, his panting dogs crouching beneath the +bench. I, too, had spent there the fairest hours of my boyhood, with +Homer or Telemachus lying open on the grass before me. I loved to lie +flat on the warm turf, my elbows resting on the volume, of which a +passing fly or lizard would sometimes hide the lines. The nightingales +among the branches sang for our home, though we could never find their +nest, or even see the branch from which their song burst forth. This +grove was the pride, the recollection, the love of all. The idea of +converting it into a small bag of money, which would leave no memory in +the heart, no perpetual joy and shade, would have occurred to no one, +save to a mother, trembling with anxiety for the life of an only son. +My mother conceived the thought; and, with the readiness and firmness +of resolve that distinguished her, called for the woodcutters as soon +as morning came,--fearing lest she should feel remorse, or my +entreaties stop her, if she first consulted me. She saw the axe laid to +their roots, and wept, and turned away her head not to hear their moan, +or witness the fall of these leafy protectors of her youth on the +echoing and desolate soil of the garden. + + + + +XCV. + + +When I returned to M---- on the following Sunday, I looked round from +the top of the mountain for the clump of trees that stood out so +pleasantly on the hillside, screening from the sun a portion of the +gray wall of the house; and it seemed as a dream when in their wonted +place I perceived only heaps of hewn-down trunks whose barked and +bleeding branches strewed the earth around. A sawing-trestle stood +there like an instrument of torture, on which the saw with its grinding +teeth divided the trees. I hurried on with extended arms towards the +outer wall, and trembled as I opened the little garden door.... Alas! +the evergreen oak, one lime-tree, and the oldest elm alone were +standing, and the bench had been drawn in beneath their shade. "They +are sufficient," said my mother, as she advanced towards me, and, to +conceal her tears, threw herself into my arms; "the shade of one tree +is worth that of a whole forest. Besides, to me what shade can equal +yours? Do not be angry. I wrote to your father that the trees were +dying from the top, and that they were hurtful to the kitchen-garden. +Speak no more of them!"... Then leading me into the house, she opened +her desk and drew forth a bag half-filled with money. "Take this," she +said, "and go. The trees will have been amply paid me if you return +well and happy." + +I blushed, and with a stifled sob took the bag. There were six hundred +francs in it, which I resolved to bring back untouched to my poor +mother. + +I started on foot, like a sportsman, with leathern gaiters on my feet, +and my gun on my shoulder, and took from the bag only one hundred +francs, which I added to the little I had remaining from the proceeds +of my last sale. I could not bear to spend the price of the trees, and +therefore concealed the remainder of the money at the farm, that on my +return I might restore it to her who had so heroically torn it from her +heart for me. I ate and slept at the humblest inns in the villages +through which I passed, and was taken for a poor Swiss student +returning from the University of Strasbourg. I was never charged but +the strict value of the bread I ate, of the candle I burned, and of the +pallet on which I slept. I had brought but one book with me, which I +read at evening on the bench before the inn door; it was Werther, in +German; and the unknown characters confirmed my hosts in the idea that +I was a foreign traveller. + +I thus wandered through the long and picturesque gorges of Bugey, and +crossed the Rhone at the foot of the rock of Pierre-Chatel. The +narrowed river eternally rushes past the base of this rock, with a +current wearing as the grindstone and cutting as the knife, as if to +undermine and overthrow the state-prison, whose gloomy shadow saddens +its waters. I slowly ascended the Mont du Chat by the paths of the +chamois-hunters; arrived at its summit, I perceived stretched out +before me in the distance the valleys of Aix, Chambery, and Annecy; and +at my feet the lake, dappled with rosy tints by the floating rays of +the setting sun. One single image filled for me the immensity of this +horizon; it rose from the chalets where we had met; from the doctor's +garden, the pointed slate roof of whose house I could recognize above +the smoke of the town; from the fig-trees of the little castle of +Bon-Port at the bottom of the opposite creek; from the chestnut-trees +on the hill of Tresserves; from the woods of St. Innocent; from the +island of Chatillon; from the boats which were returning to their +moorings, from all this earth, from all this sky, from all these waves. +I fell on my knees before this horizon filled with one image. I spread +out my arms and folded them again, as if I could have embraced her +spirit by clasping the air which, had swept over these scenes of our +happiness, over all the traces of her footsteps. + +I then sat down behind a rock which screened me even from the sight of +the goatherds, as they passed along the path. There I remained, sunk in +contemplation, and reveling in remembrances, till the sun was almost +dipping behind the snow-clad tops of Nivolex. I did not wish to cross +the lake, or enter the town by daylight, as the homeliness of my dress, +the scantiness of my purse, and the frugality of life to which I was +constrained, in order to live some months near Julie, would have seemed +strange to the inmates of the old doctor's house. They formed too great +a contrast with my elegance in dress and habits of life during the +preceding season. I should have made those blush whom I had accosted in +the streets, in the garb of one who had not even the means of locating +himself in a decent hotel in this abode of luxury. I had, therefore, +resolved to slip by night into the humble suburb, bordering a rivulet +which runs through the orchards below the town. + +I knew there a poor young serving girl, called Fanchette, who had +married a boatman the year before. She had reserved some beds in the +garret of her cottage, that she might board and lodge one or two poor +invalids at fifteen sous a day. I had engaged one of these rooms, and a +place at the humble board of the good creature. My friend L----, to +whom I had written naming the day of my arrival on the borders of the +lake, had some days previously written to take my lodgings, and warn +Fanchette of my arrival, binding her to secrecy. I had also begged him +to receive, under cover to himself, at Chambery, any letters that might +be addressed to me from Paris. He was to forward them to me by one of +the drivers of the light carts that run continually between the two +towns. I intended, during my stay at Aix, to remain in the daytime +concealed in my little cottage room, or in the surrounding orchards. I +would only, I thought, go out in the evening; I would go up to the +doctor's house by the skirts of the town; I would enter the garden by +the gate which opened on the country, and pass in delightful +intercourse the solitary evening hours. I would bear with pleasure want +and humiliation, which would be compensated a thousand fold by those +hours of love. I thought thus to conciliate the respect I owed to my +poor mother for the sacrifices she had made, with my devotion to the +idol I came to worship. + + + + + +XCVI. + + +From a pious superstition of love, I had calculated my steps during my +long pedestrian journey, so as to arrive at the Abbey of Haute-Combe, +on the other side of the Mont du Chat, upon the anniversary of the day +that the miracle of our meeting, and the revelation of our two hearts, +had taken place in the fisherman's inn on the borders of the lake. It +seemed to me that days, like all other mortal things, had their +destiny, and that in the conjunction of the same sun, the same month, +the same date, and in the same spot, I might find something of her I +loved. It would be an augury, at least, of our speedy and lasting +reunion. + + + + +XCVII. + + +From the brink of the almost perpendicular sides of the Mont du Chat +that descend to the lake, I could see on my left the old ruins and the +lengthening shadows of the Abbey, which darkened a vast extent of the +waters. In a few minutes I reached the spot. The sun was sinking behind +the Alps, and the long twilight of autumn enveloped the mountains, the +waves, and the shore. I did not stop at the ruins, and passed rapidly +through the orchard where we had sat at the foot of the haystack, near +the bee-hives. The hives and the haystack were still there; but there +was no glow of fire lighting the windows of the little inn, no smoke +ascending from the roof, no nets hung out to dry on the palisades of +the garden. + +I knocked, no one answered; I shook the wooden latch, and the door +opened of itself. I entered the little hall with the smoky walls; the +hearth was swept clean, even to the very ashes, and the table and +furniture had been removed. The flagstones of the pavement were strewed +with straws and feathers that had fallen from five or six empty +swallows' nests which hung from the blackened beams of the ceiling. I +went up the wooden ladder which was fastened to the wall by an iron +hook, and served to ascend into the upper room where Julie had awaked +from her swoon, with her hand on my forehead. I entered as one enters a +sanctuary or a sepulchre, and looked around; the wooden beds, the +presses, the stools were all gone. The sound of my footsteps frightened +a nocturnal bird of prey, that heavily flapped its wings, and after +beating against the walls, flew out with a shrill cry through the open +window into the orchard. I could scarcely distinguish the place where I +had knelt during that terrible and yet enchanting night, at the bedside +of the sleeper or of the dead. I kissed the floor, and sat for a long +while on the edge of the window, trying to evoke again in my memory the +room, the furniture, the bed, the lamp, the hours, which had kept their +place within me though all had been changed during a single year of +absence. There was no one in the lonely neighborhood of the cottage who +could furnish any information as to the cause of its being thus +deserted. I conjectured from the heaps of fagots which remained in the +yard, from the hens and pigeons which returned of themselves to roost +in the room, or on the roof, and from the stacks of hay and straw which +stood untouched in the orchard, that the family had gone to gather in a +late harvest in the high chalets of the mountain, and had not yet come +down again. + +The solitude of which I had thus taken possession was sad; not so sad, +however, as the presence of the indifferent in a spot that was sacred +in my eyes. I must have controlled before them my looks, my voice, my +gestures, and the impressions that assailed me. I resolved to pass the +night there, and brought up a bundle of fresh straw, which I spread on +the floor, on the same spot where Julie had slept her death-like sleep. +Resting my gun against the wall, I then took out of my knapsack some +bread and a goat cheese that I had bought at Seyssel to support me on +the road, and went out to eat my supper on a green platform above the +ruins of the Abbey, by the side of the spring which flows and stops +alternately, like the intermittent breathing of the mountain. + + + + +XCVIII. + + +From the edge of that platform, and from the dismantled terraces of the +old monastery, at evening time, the eye embraces the most enchanting +horizon that ever delighted an anchorite, a contemplator, or a lover. +Behind is the green and humid shade of the mountain, with the murmur of +its source, and the rustling of its foliage; and on one side the ruins, +the broken walls, with their garlands of ivy, and the dark arcades +replete with night and mystery; the lake, with its expiring waves +slowly rolling, one by one, their fringes of spray at the foot of the +rocks, as if to spread its couch and lull its sleep on the fine sands. +On the opposite shore, the blue mountains clothed with their +transparent tints; and on the right, as far as the eye can reach, the +luminous track that the sun leaves in crimson light on the sky and on +the lake, when it withdraws its splendor. I revelled in this light and +shade, in these clouds and waves. I incorporated myself with lovely +Nature, and thought thus to incorporate in me the image of her who was +all nature for me. I inwardly said I saw her there. I was at that +distance from her boat when I saw it struggling against the storm. +There is the shore where she landed; there is the orchard where we +opened our hearts to each other in the sunshine, and where she returned +to life to give me two lives. There in the distance are the tops of the +poplars of the great avenue which unrolls its length like a green +serpent issuing from the waves. There are the chalets, mossy turf, and +woods of chestnut-tree, the sheltered paths upon the highest +mountain-planes where I picked flowers, strawberries, and chestnuts to +fill her lap. There she said this; there I confessed some secret of my +soul; and on that spot we remained a whole evening silent, our hearts +flooded with enthusiasm, our lips without language. Upon these waves +she wished to die; upon this shore she promised me to live. Beneath +yonder group of walnut-trees, then leafless, she bid me farewell, and +promised me that I should see her again before the new leaves should +have turned yellow. They are about to change; but love is faithful as +Nature. In a few days I shall see her once more.... I see her already; +for am I not here awaiting her? and thus to wait, is it not as though I +saw her again? + + + + +XCIX. + + +Then I pictured to myself the instant when, from the shady orchards +that slope down from the mountains behind the old doctor's house, I +should see at last that window of the closed room where she was +expected,--to see it open for the first time, and a woman's face, +half-hidden in its long dark hair, appear between the open curtains, +dreaming of that brother whom her eye seeks in the glorious landscape, +where she, too, sees but him.... And at that image my heart beat so +impetuously in my breast that I was forced to drive away the fancy for +an instant, in order to breathe. + +In the meantime night had almost entirely descended from the mountain +to the lake. One could only see the waters through a mist that glazed +and darkened their wide expanse. Amid the profound and universal +silence which precedes darkness, the regular sound of oars which seemed +to approach land smote upon my ear. I soon saw a little speck moving on +the waters, and increasing gradually in size until it slid into the +little cove near the fisherman's house, throwing on either side a light +fringe of spray. Thinking that it might be the fisherman returning from +the Savoy coast to his deserted dwelling, I hurried down from the ruins +to the shore, to be there when the boat came in. I waited on the sand +till the fisherman landed. + + + + +C. + + +As soon as he saw me, he cried out, "Are you, sir, the young Frenchman +who is expected at Fanchette's, and to whom I have been ordered to give +these papers?" So saying, he jumped out of the boat, and, wading +knee-deep through the water, handed me a thick letter. I felt by its +weight that it was an enclosure containing many others. I hastily tore +open the first cover, and read indistinctly in the dim moonlight a note +from my friend L---, dated that same morning from Chambery. L---- +informed me that my lodging was taken and prepared for me at +Fanchette's poor house in the Faubourg, and that no one had yet arrived +from Paris at our old friend the doctor's. He added, that, having +learned from myself that I should be that same evening at Haute-Combe +to spend the night and a part of the following day, he had taken +advantage of the departure of a trusty boatman who was to pass beneath +the Abbey walls, to send me a packet of letters, which had arrived two +days before, and that I was doubtless eagerly expecting. He purposed +joining me at Haute-Combe the following day, that we might cross the +lake together, and enter the town under the shadow of night. + + + + +CI. + + +While my eye glanced over the note, I held the packet with a trembling +hand. It seemed to me heavy as my fate. I hastened to pay and dismiss +the boatman, who was impatient to be off so as to leave the lake and +enter the waters of the Rhone before dark. I only asked him for a piece +of candle, to enable me to read my letters; he gave it, and I soon +heard the strokes of his oars, as they once more cut through the deep +sheet of water. I returned overjoyed to the upper room, to see once +more the sacred characters of that angel in the very place where she +had first revealed herself to me in all her splendor and in all her +love. I felt sure that one of those letters must inform me that she had +left Paris and would soon be with me. I sat down on the bundle of straw +which I had brought up for my bed, and lighted my candle by means of +the priming of my gun. I hastily tore open the cover, and it was only +then that I perceived that the seal of the first envelope was black, +and that the address was in the handwriting of Dr. Alain. I shuddered +as I saw mourning where I had expected to find joy. The other letters +slid from my hands onto my knees. I dared not read on for fear of +finding--alas! what neither hand, nor eye, nor blood, nor tears, nor +earth, nor Heaven could evermore efface--Death!... Though my very soul +trembled so as to make the syllables dance before my eyes, I read at +last these words: + +"Prove yourself a man! Submit yourself to the will of Him whose ways +are not our ways; expect her no longer! ... Look for her no more on +earth, she has returned to heaven, calling on your name.... Thursday at +sunrise.... She told me all before she died; ... she directed me to +send you her last thoughts, which she wrote down till the very instant +her hand grew cold while tracing your name.... Love her in Christ, who +loved us unto death, and live for your mother! + +"ALAIN." + + + + +CII. + + +I fell back senseless on the straw, and only recovered consciousness +when the cold air of midnight chilled my brow. The light was still +burning, and the doctor's letter was grasped convulsively in my hand. +The untouched packet had fallen on the floor; I opened it with my lips, +as if I feared to profane the heavenly message by breaking the seal +with my fingers. Several long letters from Julie fell out; they were +arranged according to dates. + +In the-first there was: "Raphael! O my Raphael! O my brother! forgive +your sister for having so long deceived you.... I never hoped to see +you once more in Savoy.... I knew that my days were numbered, and that +I could not live on till that day of happiness.... When I said at the +gate of the garden of Monceau, 'We shall meet again,' Raphael, you did +not understand me, but God did. I meant to say, 'We shall meet again, +once more to love, to bless eternally, in heaven!' I begged Dr. Alain +to aid me in deceiving you, and sending you away from Paris. It was my +wish, it was my duty, to spare you such a sight of anguish as would +have torn your heart asunder, and would have been too much for your +strength.... And then again--forgive me, I must tell you all--I did not +wish you to see me die.... I wish to spread a veil between us some time +before death.... Cold death!--I feel it, see it, and shudder at myself +in death! Raphael, I sought to leave an image of beauty in your eyes, +that you might ever contemplate and adore! But now, you must not go, +... to await me in Savoy! Yet a little while--two or three days +perhaps--and you need seek me nowhere! But I shall be there, Raphael! I +shall be everywhere, and always where you are." + +This letter had been moistened with tears, which had unglazed and +stiffened the paper. + +In the other, dated the following night, I read:-- + +"Midnight. + +"Raphael, your prayers have drawn down a blessing from Heaven upon me. +I thought yesterday of the tree of adoration at St. Cloud, at whose +foot I saw God through your soul. But there is another holier +tree,--the Cross!... I have embraced it ... I will cling to it +evermore.... Oh, how that divine blood cleanses! how those divine tears +purify!... Yesterday I sent for a holy priest of whom Alain had spoken. +He is an old man who knows everything; who forgives all! I have +discovered my soul to him, and he has shed on it the love and light of +God.... How good is God! how indulgent, how full of loving kindness! +How little we know of him! He suffers me to love you, to have you for +my brother, to be your sister here below, if I live; your guardian +angel above, if I die! O Raphael, let us love him, since he permits +that we should love each other as we do!"... + +At the end of the letter there was a little cross traced, and, as it +were, the impress of a kiss all around. + + + + +CIII. + + +There was another letter written in a totally altered hand, where the +characters crossed and mingled on the page, as if traced in the dark, +which said:-- + +"Raphael, I must say one word more--to-morrow, perhaps, I could not. +When I am dead, oh, do not die! I shall watch over you from above; I +shall be good and powerful, as the loving God, to whom I shall be +united, is good and powerful. After me, you must love again.... God +will send you another sister, who will be, moreover, the pious helpmate +of your life.... I will myself ask it of him.... Fear not to grieve my +soul, Raphael!... I--could I be jealous in heaven of your happiness?... +I feel better now I have said this. Alain will forward these lines to +you, and a lock of my hair.... I am going to sleep."... + +One letter more, almost illegible, contained only these interrupted +lines: "Raphael! Raphael! where are you? I have had strength to get out +of bed.... I have told the nurse that I wished to be left alone to +rest. I have dragged myself along to the table, where I am writing by +the light of the lamp.... But I can see no more; ...my eyes swim in +darkness; ... black spots flit across the paper; ... Raphael! I can no +longer write.... Oh, one word more!"... + +Then, in large letters, like those of a child trying to write for the +first time, there are two words which occupy a whole line, filling the +bottom of the page. "Farewell, Raphael!" + + + + +CIV. + + +All the letters fell from my hands. I was sobbing without tears, when I +perceived another little note in the handwriting of the old man, her +husband; it had slid between the pages as I was unsealing the first +envelope. + +There were only these words: "She breathed her last, her hand in mine, +a few hours after writing you her last farewell. I have lost my +daughter.... Be my son for the few days I have yet to live. She is +there upon her bed, as if asleep, with an expression on her features of +one whose last thought smiled at seeing something beyond our world. She +never was so lovely; and as I look on her I require to believe in +immortality.... I loved you through her; for her sake love me!" + + + + +CV. + + +How strange, and yet how fortunate for human nature, is the +impossibility of immediately believing in the complete disappearance of +a much-loved being! Though the evidence of her death lay scattered +around, I could not believe that I was forever separated from her. Her +remembrance, her image, her features, the sound of her voice, the +peculiar turn of her expressions, the charm of her countenance, were so +present, and, as it were, so incorporate in me, that she seemed more +than ever with me; she appeared to envelop me, to converse with me, to +call me by my name, as though I could have risen to meet her, and to +see her once more. God leaves a space between the certainty of our loss +and the consciousness of reality, like the interval which our senses +measure between the instant when the eye sees the axe fall on the tree +and the sound in our ear of the same blow long after. This distance +deadens grief by cheating it. For some time after losing those we love, +we have not completely lost them; we live on by the prolongation of +their life in us. We feel as when we have been long watching the +setting sun,--though its orb has sunk below the horizon, its rays are +not set in our eyes; they still shine on our soul. It is only +gradually, and as our impressions become more distinct as they cool, +that we are made to know the complete and heartfelt separation,--that +we can say, she is dead in me! For death is not death, but oblivion. + +This phenomenon of grief was shown in its full force in me during that +night. God suffered me not to drain at one draught my cup of woe, lest +it should overwhelm my very soul. He vouchsafed to me the delusive +belief, which. I long retained, of her inward presence. In me, before +me, and around me, I saw that heavenly being who had been sent to me +for one single year, to direct my thoughts and looks forevermore +towards the heaven to which she returned in her spring of youth and +love. + +When the poor boatman's candle was burned out, I took up my letters and +hid them in my bosom. I kissed a thousand times the floor of the room +which had been the cradle, and was now the tomb, of our love. I +unconsciously took my gun, and rushed wildly through the mountain +passes. The night was dark; the wind had risen. The waves of the lake, +dashing against the rocks, lashed them with such hollow blows, and sent +forth sounds so like to human voices, that many times I stopped +breathless, and turned round, as if I had been called by name. Yes, I +was called; and I was not mistaken; but the voice came from heaven!... + + + + +CVI. + + +You know, my friend, who found me the next morning, wandering among +precipices, in the mists of the Rhone; who raised me up, supported me, +and brought me back to my poor mother's arms.... + +Now fifteen years have rolled by without sweeping away in their course +a single memory of that one great year of my youth. According to +Julie's promise to send me from above one who should comfort me, God +has exchanged his gift for another; he has not withdrawn it. I often +return to visit the valley of Chambery and the lake of Aix, with her +who has made my hopes patient and tranquil as felicity. When I sit on +the heights of the hill of Tresserves, at the foot of those +chestnut-trees that have felt her heart beat against their bark; when I +look at the lake, the mountains, snows and meadows, trees and jagged +rocks, swimming in a warm atmosphere which seems to bathe all nature in +one perfumed liquid; when I hear the sighing breeze, the humming +insects, and the quivering leaves, the waves of the lake breaking on +the shore, with the gentle rustling sound of silken folds unrolling one +by one; when I see the shadow of her whom God has made my companion +until my life's end cast beside mine upon the grass or sand; when I +feel within me a plenitude that desires nothing before death, and +peace, untroubled by a single sigh; methinks I see the blessed soul of +her who appeared to me in this spot rise, dazzling and immortal, from +every point of the horizon, fill of herself alone the sky and waters, +shine in that splendor, float in that ether, bum in all those flames. I +see it penetrate those waves, breathe in their murmurs; pray, and laud, +and sing in that one hymn of life that streams with these cascades from +glacier unto lake, and shed upon the valley and on those who keep her +memory a blessing that the eye seems to see, the ear to hear, the heart +to feel!... + +Here ended Raphael's first manuscript. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Raphael, by Alphonse de Lamartine + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAPHAEL *** + +***** This file should be named 13019.txt or 13019.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/0/1/13019/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Keith M. 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