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diff --git a/1481-h/1481-h.htm b/1481-h/1481-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5d9db4b --- /dev/null +++ b/1481-h/1481-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5418 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + A Daughter of Eve, by Honore de Balzac + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1481 ***</div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + A DAUGHTER OF EVE + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Honore De Balzac + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEDICATION + + To Madame la Comtesse Bolognini, nee Vimercati. + + If you remember, madame, the pleasure your conversation gave to a + traveller by recalling Paris to his memory in Milan, you will not + be surprised to find him testifying his gratitude for many + pleasant evenings passed beside you by laying one of his works at + your feet, and begging you to protect it with your name, as in + former days that name protected the tales of an ancient writer + dear to the Milanese. + + You have an Eugenie, already beautiful, whose intelligent smile + gives promise that she has inherited from you the most precious + gifts of womanhood, and who will certainly enjoy during her + childhood and youth all those happinesses which a rigid mother + denied to the Eugenie of these pages. Though Frenchmen are taxed + with inconstancy, you will find me Italian in faithfulness and + memory. While writing the name of “Eugenie,” my thoughts have + often led me back to that cool stuccoed salon and little garden in + the Vicolo dei Cappucini, which echoed to the laughter of that + dear child, to our sportive quarrels and our chatter. But you have + left the Corso for the Tre Monasteri, and I know not how you are + placed there; consequently, I am forced to think of you, not among + the charming things with which no doubt you have surrounded + yourself, but like one of those fine figures due to Raffaelle, + Titian, Correggio, Allori, which seem abstractions, so distant are + they from our daily lives. + + If this book should wing its way across the Alps, it will prove to + you the lively gratitude and respectful friendship of + + Your devoted servant, + De Balzac. +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <h3> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>A DAUGHTER OF EVE</b> </a> + </h3> + <h3> + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE TWO MARIES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </td> + <td> + A CONFIDENCE BETWEEN SISTERS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE HISTORY OF A FORTUNATE WOMAN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </td> + <td> + A CELEBRATED MAN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </td> + <td> + FLORINE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </td> + <td> + ROMANTIC LOVE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </td> + <td> + SUICIDE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + A LOVER SAVED AND LOST + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE HUSBAND’S TRIUMPH + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <h3> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> ADDENDUM </a> + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + A DAUGHTER OF EVE + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. THE TWO MARIES + </h2> + <p> + In one of the finest houses of the rue Neuve-des-Mathurins, at half-past + eleven at night, two young women were sitting before the fireplace of a + boudoir hung with blue velvet of that tender shade, with shimmering + reflections, which French industry has lately learned to fabricate. Over + the doors and windows were draped soft folds of blue cashmere, the tint of + the hangings, the work of one of those upholsterers who have just missed + being artists. A silver lamp studded with turquoise, and suspended by + chains of beautiful workmanship, hung from the centre of the ceiling. The + same system of decoration was followed in the smallest details, and even + to the ceiling of fluted blue silk, with long bands of white cashmere + falling at equal distances on the hangings, where they were caught back by + ropes of pearl. A warm Belgian carpet, thick as turf, of a gray ground + with blue posies, covered the floor. The furniture, of carved ebony, after + a fine model of the old school, gave substance and richness to the rather + too decorative quality, as a painter might call it, of the rest of the + room. On either side of a large window, two etageres displayed a hundred + precious trifles, flowers of mechanical art brought into bloom by the fire + of thought. On a chimney-piece of slate-blue marble were figures in old + Dresden, shepherds in bridal garb, with delicate bouquets in their hands, + German fantasticalities surrounding a platinum clock, inlaid with + arabesques. Above it sparkled the brilliant facets of a Venice mirror + framed in ebony, with figures carved in relief, evidently obtained from + some former royal residence. Two jardinieres were filled with the exotic + product of a hot-house, pale, but divine flowers, the treasures of botany. + </p> + <p> + In this cold, orderly boudoir, where all things were in place as if for + sale, no sign existed of the gay and capricious disorder of a happy home. + At the present moment, the two young women were weeping. Pain seemed to + predominate. The name of the owner, Ferdinand du Tillet, one of the + richest bankers in Paris, is enough to explain the luxury of the whole + house, of which this boudoir is but a sample. + </p> + <p> + Though without either rank or station, having pushed himself forward, + heaven knows how, du Tillet had married, in 1831, the daughter of the + Comte de Granville, one of the greatest names in the French magistracy,—a + man who became peer of France after the revolution of July. This marriage + of ambition on du Tillet’s part was brought about by his agreeing to sign + an acknowledgment in the marriage contract of a dowry not received, equal + to that of her elder sister, who was married to Comte Felix de Vandenesse. + On the other hand, the Granvilles obtained the alliance with de Vandenesse + by the largeness of the “dot.” Thus the bank repaired the breach made in + the pocket of the magistracy by rank. Could the Comte de Vandenesse have + seen himself, three years later, the brother-in-law of a Sieur Ferdinand + DU Tillet, so-called, he might not have married his wife; but what man of + rank in 1828 foresaw the strange upheavals which the year 1830 was + destined to produce in the political condition, the fortunes, and the + customs of France? Had any one predicted to Comte Felix de Vandenesse that + his head would lose the coronet of a peer, and that of his father-in-law + acquire one, he would have thought his informant a lunatic. + </p> + <p> + Bending forward on one of those low chairs then called “chaffeuses,” in + the attitude of a listener, Madame du Tillet was pressing to her bosom + with maternal tenderness, and occasionally kissing, the hand of her + sister, Madame Felix de Vandenesse. Society added the baptismal name to + the surname, in order to distinguish the countess from her sister-in-law, + the Marquise Charles de Vandenesse, wife of the former ambassador, who had + married the widow of the Comte de Kergarouet, Mademoiselle Emilie de + Fontaine. + </p> + <p> + Half lying on a sofa, her handkerchief in the other hand, her breathing + choked by repressed sobs, and with tearful eyes, the countess had been + making confidences such as are made only from sister to sister when two + sisters love each other; and these two sisters did love each other + tenderly. We live in days when sisters married into such antagonist + spheres can very well not love each other, and therefore the historian is + bound to relate the reasons of this tender affection, preserved without + spot or jar in spite of their husbands’ contempt for each other and their + own social disunion. A rapid glance at their childhood will explain the + situation. + </p> + <p> + Brought up in a gloomy house in the Marais, by a woman of narrow mind, a + “devote” who, being sustained by a sense of duty (sacred phrase!), had + fulfilled her tasks as a mother religiously, Marie-Angelique and Marie + Eugenie de Granville reached the period of their marriage—the first + at eighteen, the second at twenty years of age—without ever leaving + the domestic zone where the rigid maternal eye controlled them. Up to that + time they had never been to a play; the churches of Paris were their + theatre. Their education in their mother’s house had been as rigorous as + it would have been in a convent. From infancy they had slept in a room + adjoining that of the Comtesse de Granville, the door of which stood + always open. The time not occupied by the care of their persons, their + religious duties and the studies considered necessary for well-bred young + ladies, was spent in needlework done for the poor, or in walks like those + an Englishwoman allows herself on Sunday, saying, apparently, “Not so + fast, or we shall seem to be amusing ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + Their education did not go beyond the limits imposed by confessors, who + were chosen by their mother from the strictest and least tolerant of the + Jansenist priests. Never were girls delivered over to their husbands more + absolutely pure and virgin than they; their mother seemed to consider that + point, essential as indeed it is, the accomplishment of all her duties + toward earth and heaven. These two poor creatures had never, before their + marriage, read a tale, or heard of a romance; their very drawings were of + figures whose anatomy would have been masterpieces of the impossible to + Cuvier, designed to feminize the Farnese Hercules himself. An old maid + taught them drawing. A worthy priest instructed them in grammar, the + French language, history, geography, and the very little arithmetic it was + thought necessary in their rank for women to know. Their reading, selected + from authorized books, such as the “Lettres Edifiantes,” and Noel’s + “Lecons de Litterature,” was done aloud in the evening; but always in + presence of their mother’s confessor, for even in those books there did + sometimes occur passages which, without wise comments, might have roused + their imagination. Fenelon’s “Telemaque” was thought dangerous. + </p> + <p> + The Comtesse de Granville loved her daughters sufficiently to wish to make + them angels after the pattern of Marie Alacoque, but the poor girls + themselves would have preferred a less virtuous and more amiable mother. + This education bore its natural fruits. Religion, imposed as a yoke and + presented under its sternest aspect, wearied with formal practice these + innocent young hearts, treated as sinful. It repressed their feelings, and + was never precious to them, although it struck its roots deep down into + their natures. Under such training the two Maries would either have become + mere imbeciles, or they must necessarily have longed for independence. + Thus it came to pass that they looked to marriage as soon as they saw + anything of life and were able to compare a few ideas. Of their own tender + graces and their personal value they were absolutely ignorant. They were + ignorant, too, of their own innocence; how, then, could they know life? + Without weapons to meet misfortune, without experience to appreciate + happiness, they found no comfort in the maternal jail, all their joys were + in each other. Their tender confidences at night in whispers, or a few + short sentences exchanged if their mother left them for a moment, + contained more ideas than the words themselves expressed. Often a glance, + concealed from other eyes, by which they conveyed to each other their + emotions, was like a poem of bitter melancholy. The sight of a cloudless + sky, the fragrance of flowers, a turn in the garden, arm in arm,—these + were their joys. The finishing of a piece of embroidery was to them a + source of enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + Their mother’s social circle, far from opening resources to their hearts + or stimulating their minds, only darkened their ideas and depressed them; + it was made up of rigid old women, withered and graceless, whose + conversation turned on the differences which distinguished various + preachers and confessors, on their own petty indispositions, on religious + events insignificant even to the “Quotidienne” or “l’Ami de la Religion.” + As for the men who appeared in the Comtesse de Granville’s salon, they + extinguished any possible torch of love, so cold and sadly resigned were + their faces. They were all of an age when mankind is sulky and fretful, + and natural sensibilities are chiefly exercised at table and on the things + relating to personal comfort. Religious egotism had long dried up those + hearts devoted to narrow duties and entrenched behind pious practices. + Silent games of cards occupied the whole evening, and the two young girls + under the ban of that Sanhedrim enforced by maternal severity, came to + hate the dispiriting personages about them with their hollow eyes and + scowling faces. + </p> + <p> + On the gloom of this life one sole figure of a man, that of a + music-master, stood vigorously forth. The confessors had decided that + music was a Christian art, born of the Catholic Church and developed + within her. The two Maries were therefore permitted to study music. A + spinster in spectacles, who taught singing and the piano in a neighboring + convent, wearied them with exercises; but when the eldest girl was ten + years old, the Comte de Granville insisted on the importance of giving her + a master. Madame de Granville gave all the value of conjugal obedience to + this needed concession,—it is part of a devote’s character to make a + merit of doing her duty. + </p> + <p> + The master was a Catholic German; one of those men born old, who seem all + their lives fifty years of age, even at eighty. And yet, his brown, + sunken, wrinkled face still kept something infantile and artless in its + dark creases. The blue of innocence was in his eyes, and a gay smile of + springtide abode upon his lips. His iron-gray hair, falling naturally like + that of the Christ in art, added to his ecstatic air a certain solemnity + which was absolutely deceptive as to his real nature; for he was capable + of committing any silliness with the most exemplary gravity. His clothes + were a necessary envelope, to which he paid not the slightest attention, + for his eyes looked too high among the clouds to concern themselves with + such materialities. This great unknown artist belonged to the kindly class + of the self-forgetting, who give their time and their soul to others, just + as they leave their gloves on every table and their umbrella at all doors. + His hands were of the kind that are dirty as soon as washed. In short, his + old body, badly poised on its knotted old legs, proving to what degree a + man can make it the mere accessory of his soul, belonged to those strange + creations which have been properly depicted only by a German,—by + Hoffman, the poet of that which seems not to exist but yet has life. + </p> + <p> + Such was Schmucke, formerly chapel-master to the Margrave of Anspach; a + musical genius, who was now examined by a council of devotes, and asked if + he kept the fasts. The master was much inclined to answer, “Look at me!” + but how could he venture to joke with pious dowagers and Jansenist + confessors? This apocryphal old fellow held such a place in the lives of + the two Maries, they felt such friendship for the grand and simple-minded + artist, who was happy and contented in the mere comprehension of his art, + that after their marriage, they each gave him an annuity of three hundred + francs a year,—a sum which sufficed to pay for his lodging, beer, + pipes, and clothes. Six hundred francs a year and his lessons put him in + Eden. Schmucke had never found courage to confide his poverty and his + aspirations to any but these two adorable young girls, whose hearts were + blooming beneath the snow of maternal rigor and the ice of devotion. This + fact explains Schmucke and the girlhood of the two Maries. + </p> + <p> + No one knew then, or later, what abbe or pious spinster had discovered the + old German then vaguely wandering about Paris, but as soon as mothers of + families learned that the Comtesse de Granville had found a music-master + for her daughters, they all inquired for his name and address. Before + long, Schmucke had thirty pupils in the Marais. This tardy success was + manifested by steel buckles to his shoes, which were lined with horse-hair + soles, and by a more frequent change of linen. His artless gaiety, long + suppressed by noble and decent poverty, reappeared. He gave vent to witty + little remarks and flowery speeches in his German-Gallic patois, very + observing and very quaint and said with an air which disarmed ridicule. + But he was so pleased to bring a laugh to the lips of his two pupils, + whose dismal life his sympathy had penetrated, that he would gladly have + made himself wilfully ridiculous had he failed in being so by nature. + </p> + <p> + According to one of the nobler ideas of religious education, the young + girls always accompanied their master respectfully to the door. There they + would make him a few kind speeches, glad to do anything to give him + pleasure. Poor things! all they could do was to show him their womanhood. + Until their marriage, music was to them another life within their lives, + just as, they say, a Russian peasant takes his dreams for reality and his + actual life for a troubled sleep. With the instinct of protecting their + souls against the pettiness that threatened to overwhelm them, against the + all-pervading asceticism of their home, they flung themselves into the + difficulties of the musical art, and spent themselves upon it. Melody, + harmony, and composition, three daughters of heaven, whose choir was led + by an old Catholic faun drunk with music, were to these poor girls the + compensation of their trials; they made them, as it were, a rampart + against their daily lives. Mozart, Beethoven, Gluck, Paesiello, Cimarosa, + Haydn, and certain secondary geniuses, developed in their souls a + passionate emotion which never passed beyond the chaste enclosure of their + breasts, though it permeated that other creation through which, in spirit, + they winged their flight. When they had executed some great work in a + manner that their master declared was almost faultless, they embraced each + other in ecstasy and the old man called them his Saint Cecilias. + </p> + <p> + The two Maries were not taken to a ball until they were sixteen years of + age, and then only four times a year in special houses. They were not + allowed to leave their mother’s side without instructions as to their + behavior with their partners; and so severe were those instructions that + they dared say only yes or no during a dance. The eye of the countess + never left them, and she seemed to know from the mere movement of their + lips the words they uttered. Even the ball-dresses of these poor little + things were piously irreproachable; their muslin gowns came up to their + chins with an endless number of thick ruches, and the sleeves came down to + their wrists. Swathing in this way their natural charms, this costume gave + them a vague resemblance to Egyptian hermae; though from these blocks of + muslin rose enchanting little heads of tender melancholy. They felt + themselves the objects of pity, and inwardly resented it. What woman, + however innocent, does not desire to excite envy? + </p> + <p> + No dangerous idea, unhealthy or even equivocal, soiled the pure pulp of + their brain; their hearts were innocent, their hands were horribly red, + and they glowed with health. Eve did not issue more innocent from the + hands of God than these two girls from their mother’s home when they went + to the mayor’s office and the church to be married, after receiving the + simple but terrible injunction to obey in all things two men with whom + they were henceforth to live and sleep by day and by night. To their + minds, nothing could be worse in the strange houses where they were to go + than the maternal convent. + </p> + <p> + Why did the father of these poor girls, the Comte de Granville, a wise and + upright magistrate (though sometimes led away by politics), refrain from + protecting the helpless little creatures from such crushing despotism? + Alas! by mutual understanding, about ten years after marriage, he and his + wife were separated while living under one roof. The father had taken upon + himself the education of his sons, leaving that of the daughters to his + wife. He saw less danger for women than for men in the application of his + wife’s oppressive system. The two Maries, destined as women to endure + tyranny, either of love or marriage, would be, he thought, less injured + than boys, whose minds ought to have freer play, and whose manly qualities + would deteriorate under the powerful compression of religious ideas pushed + to their utmost consequences. Of four victims the count saved two. + </p> + <p> + The countess regarded her sons as too ill-trained to admit of the + slightest intimacy with their sisters. All communication between the poor + children was therefore strictly watched. When the boys came home from + school, the count was careful not to keep them in the house. The boys + always breakfasted with their mother and sisters, but after that the count + took them off to museums, theatres, restaurants, or, during the summer + season, into the country. Except on the solemn days of some family + festival, such as the countess’s birthday or New Year’s day, or the day of + the distribution of prizes, when the boys remained in their father’s house + and slept there, the sisters saw so little of their brothers that there + was absolutely no tie between them. On those days the countess never left + them for an instant alone together. Calls of “Where is Angelique?”—“What + is Eugenie about?”—“Where are my daughters?” resounded all day. As + for the mother’s sentiments towards her sons, the countess raised to + heaven her cold and macerated eyes, as if to ask pardon of God for not + having snatched them from iniquity. + </p> + <p> + Her exclamations, and also her reticences on the subject of her sons, were + equal to the most lamenting verses in Jeremiah, and completely deceived + the sisters, who supposed their sinful brothers to be doomed to perdition. + </p> + <p> + When the boys were eighteen years of age, the count gave them rooms in his + own part of the house, and sent them to study law under the supervision of + a solicitor, his former secretary. The two Maries knew nothing therefore + of fraternity, except by theory. At the time of the marriage of the + sisters, both brothers were practising in provincial courts, and both were + detained by important cases. Domestic life in many families which might be + expected to be intimate, united, and homogeneous, is really spent in this + way. Brothers are sent to a distance, busy with their own careers, their + own advancement, occupied, perhaps, about the good of the country; the + sisters are engrossed in a round of other interests. All the members of + such a family live disunited, forgetting one another, bound together only + by some feeble tie of memory, until, perhaps, a sentiment of pride or + self-interest either joins them or separates them in heart as they already + are in fact. Modern laws, by multiplying the family by the family, has + created a great evil,—namely, individualism. + </p> + <p> + In the depths of this solitude where their girlhood was spent, Angelique + and Eugenie seldom saw their father, and when he did enter the grand + apartment of his wife on the first floor, he brought with him a saddened + face. In his own home he always wore the grave and solemn look of a + magistrate on the bench. When the little girls had passed the age of dolls + and toys, when they began, about twelve, to use their minds (an epoch at + which they ceased to laugh at Schmucke) they divined the secret of the + cares that lined their father’s forehead, and they recognized beneath that + mask of sternness the relics of a kind heart and a fine character. They + vaguely perceived how he had yielded to the forces of religion in his + household, disappointed as he was in his hopes of a husband, and wounded + in the tenderest fibres of paternity,—the love of a father for his + daughters. Such griefs were singularly moving to the hearts of the two + young girls, who were themselves deprived of all tenderness. Sometimes, + when pacing the garden between his daughters, with an arm round each + little waist, and stepping with their own short steps, the father would + stop short behind a clump of trees, out of sight of the house, and kiss + them on their foreheads; his eyes, his lips, his whole countenance + expressing the deepest commiseration. + </p> + <p> + “You are not very happy, my dear little girls,” he said one day; “but I + shall marry you early. It will comfort me to have you leave home.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” said Eugenie, “we have decided to take the first man who offers.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he cried, “that is the bitter fruit of such a system. They want to + make saints, and they make—” he stopped without ending his sentence. + </p> + <p> + Often the two girls felt an infinite tenderness in their father’s “Adieu,” + or in his eyes, when, by chance, he dined at home. They pitied that father + so seldom seen, and love follows often upon pity. + </p> + <p> + This stern and rigid education was the cause of the marriages of the two + sisters welded together by misfortune, as Rita-Christina by the hand of + Nature. Many men, driven to marriage, prefer a girl taken from a convent, + and saturated with piety, to a girl brought up to worldly ideas. There + seems to be no middle course. A man must marry either an educated girl, + who reads the newspapers and comments upon them, who waltzes with a dozen + young men, goes to the theatre, devours novels, cares nothing for + religion, and makes her own ethics, or an ignorant and innocent young + girl, like either of the two Maries. Perhaps there may be as much danger + with the one kind as with the other. Yet the vast majority of men who are + not so old as Arnolphe, prefer a religious Agnes to a budding Celimene. + </p> + <p> + The two Maries, who were small and slender, had the same figure, the same + foot, the same hand. Eugenie, the younger, was fair-haired, like her + mother, Angelique was dark-haired, like the father. But they both had the + same complexion,—a skin of the pearly whiteness which shows the + richness and purity of the blood, where the color rises through a tissue + like that of the jasmine, soft, smooth, and tender to the touch. Eugenie’s + blue eyes and the brown eyes of Angelique had an expression of artless + indifference, of ingenuous surprise, which was rendered by the vague + manner with which the pupils floated on the fluid whiteness of the + eyeball. They were both well-made; the rather thin shoulders would develop + later. Their throats, long veiled, delighted the eye when their husbands + requested them to wear low dresses to a ball, on which occasion they both + felt a pleasing shame, which made them first blush behind closed doors, + and afterwards, through a whole evening in company. + </p> + <p> + On the occasion when this scene opens, and the eldest, Angelique, was + weeping, while the younger, Eugenie, was consoling her, their hands and + arms were white as milk. Each had nursed a child,—one a boy, the + other a daughter. Eugenie, as a girl, was thought very giddy by her + mother, who had therefore treated her with especial watchfulness and + severity. In the eyes of that much-feared mother, Angelique, noble and + proud, appeared to have a soul so lofty that it would guard itself, + whereas, the more lively Eugenie needed restraint. There are many charming + beings misused by fate,—beings who ought by rights to prosper in + this life, but who live and die unhappy, tortured by some evil genius, the + victims of unfortunate circumstances. The innocent and naturally + light-hearted Eugenie had fallen into the hands and beneath the malicious + despotism of a self-made man on leaving the maternal prison. Angelique, + whose nature inclined her to deeper sentiments, was thrown into the upper + spheres of Parisian social life, with the bridle lying loose upon her + neck. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. A CONFIDENCE BETWEEN SISTERS + </h2> + <p> + Madame de Vandenesse, Marie-Angelique, who seemed to have broken down + under a weight of troubles too heavy for her soul to bear, was lying back + on the sofa with bent limbs, and her head tossing restlessly. She had + rushed to her sister’s house after a brief appearance at the Opera. + Flowers were still in her hair, but others were scattered upon the carpet, + together with her gloves, her silk pelisse, and muff and hood. Tears were + mingling with the pearls on her bosom; her swollen eyes appeared to make + strange confidences. In the midst of so much luxury her distress was + horrible, and she seemed unable to summon courage to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Poor darling!” said Madame du Tillet; “what a mistaken idea you have of + my marriage if you think that I can help you!” + </p> + <p> + Hearing this revelation, dragged from her sister’s heart by the violence + of the storm she herself had raised there, the countess looked with + stupefied eyes at the banker’s wife; her tears stopped, and her eyes grew + fixed. + </p> + <p> + “Are you in misery as well, my dearest?” she said, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “My griefs will not ease yours.” + </p> + <p> + “But tell them to me, darling; I am not yet too selfish to listen. Are we + to suffer together once more, as we did in girlhood?” + </p> + <p> + “But alas! we suffer apart,” said the banker’s wife. “You and I live in + two worlds at enmity with each other. I go to the Tuileries when you are + not there. Our husbands belong to opposite parties. I am the wife of an + ambitious banker,—a bad man, my darling; while you have a noble, + kind, and generous husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! don’t reproach me!” cried the countess. “To understand my position, a + woman must have borne the weariness of a vapid and barren life, and have + entered suddenly into a paradise of light and love; she must know the + happiness of feeling her whole life in that of another; of espousing, as + it were, the infinite emotions of a poet’s soul; of living a double + existence,—going, coming with him in his courses through space, + through the world of ambition; suffering with his griefs, rising on the + wings of his high pleasures, developing her faculties on some vast stage; + and all this while living calm, serene, and cold before an observing + world. Ah! dearest, what happiness in having at all hours an enormous + interest, which multiplies the fibres of the heart and varies them + indefinitely! to feel no longer cold indifference! to find one’s very life + depending on a thousand trifles!—on a walk where an eye will beam to + us from a crowd, on a glance which pales the sun! Ah! what intoxication, + dear, to live! to <i>live</i> when other women are praying on their knees + for emotions that never come to them! Remember, darling, that for this + poem of delight there is but a single moment,—youth! In a few years + winter comes, and cold. Ah! if you possessed these living riches of the + heart, and were threatened with the loss of them—” + </p> + <p> + Madame du Tillet, terrified, had covered her face with her hands during + the passionate utterance of this anthem. + </p> + <p> + “I did not even think of reproaching you, my beloved,” she said at last, + seeing her sister’s face bathed in hot tears. “You have cast into my soul, + in one moment, more brands than I have tears to quench. Yes, the life I + live would justify to my heart a love like that you picture. Let me + believe that if we could have seen each other oftener, we should not now + be where we are. If you had seen my sufferings, you must have valued your + own happiness the more, and you might have strengthened me to resist my + tyrant, and so have won a sort of peace. Your misery is an incident which + chance may change, but mine is daily and perpetual. To my husband I am a + peg on which to hang his luxury, the sign-post of his ambition, a + satisfaction to his vanity. He has no real affection for me, and no + confidence. Ferdinand is hard and polished as that piece of marble,” she + continued, striking the chimney-piece. “He distrusts me. Whatever I may + want for myself is refused before I ask it; but as for what flatters his + vanity and proclaims his wealth, I have no occasion to express a wish. He + decorates my apartments; he spends enormous sums upon my entertainments; + my servants, my opera-box, all external matters are maintained with the + utmost splendor. His vanity spares no expense; he would trim his + children’s swaddling-clothes with lace if he could, but he would never + hear their cries, or guess their needs. Do you understand me? I am covered + with diamonds when I go to court; I wear the richest jewels in society, + but I have not one farthing I can use. Madame du Tillet, who, they say, is + envied, who appears to float in gold, has not a hundred francs she can + call her own. If the father cares little for his child, he cares less for + its mother. Ah! he has cruelly made me feel that he bought me, and that in + marrying me without a ‘dot’ he was wronged. I might perhaps have won him + to love me, but there’s an outside influence against it,—that of a + woman, who is over fifty years of age, the widow of a notary, who rules + him. I shall never be free, I know that, so long as he lives. My life is + regulated like that of a queen; my meals are served with the utmost + formality; at a given hour I must drive to the Bois; I am always + accompanied by two footmen in full dress; I am obliged to return at a + certain hour. Instead of giving orders, I receive them. At a ball, at the + theatre, a servant comes to me and says: ‘Madame’s carriage is ready,’ and + I am obliged to go, in the midst, perhaps, of something I enjoy. Ferdinand + would be furious if I did not obey the etiquette he prescribes for his + wife; he frightens me. In the midst of this hateful opulence, I find + myself regretting the past, and thinking that our mother was kind; she + left us the nights when we could talk together; at any rate, I was living + with a dear being who loved me and suffered with me; whereas here, in this + sumptuous house, I live in a desert.” + </p> + <p> + At this terrible confession the countess caught her sister’s hand and + kissed it, weeping. + </p> + <p> + “How, then, can I help you,” said Eugenie, in a low voice. “He would be + suspicious at once if he surprised us here, and would insist on knowing + all that you have been saying to me. I should be forced to tell a lie, + which is difficult indeed with so sly and treacherous a man; he would lay + traps for me. But enough of my own miseries; let us think of yours. The + forty thousand francs you want would be, of course, a mere nothing to + Ferdinand, who handles millions with that fat banker, Baron de Nucingen. + Sometimes, at dinner, in my presence, they say things to each other which + make me shudder. Du Tillet knows my discretion, and they often talk freely + before me, being sure of my silence. Well, robbery and murder on the + high-road seem to me merciful compared to some of their financial schemes. + Nucingen and he no more mind destroying a man than if he were an animal. + Often I am told to receive poor dupes whose fate I have heard them talk of + the night before,—men who rush into some business where they are + certain to lose their all. I am tempted, like Leonardo in the brigand’s + cave, to cry out, ‘Beware!’ But if I did, what would become of me? So I + keep silence. This splendid house is a cut-throat’s den! But Ferdinand and + Nucingen will lavish millions for their own caprices. Ferdinand is now + buying from the other du Tillet family the site of their old castle; he + intends to rebuild it and add a forest with large domains to the estate, + and make his son a count; he declares that by the third generation the + family will be noble. Nucingen, who is tired of his house in the rue + Saint-Lazare, is building a palace. His wife is a friend of mine—Ah!” + she cried, interrupting herself, “she might help us; she is very bold with + her husband; her fortune is in her own right. Yes, she could save you.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear heart, I have but a few hours left; let us go to her this evening, + now, instantly,” said Madame de Vandenesse, throwing herself into Madame + du Tillet’s arms with a burst of tears. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t go out at eleven o’clock at night,” replied her sister. + </p> + <p> + “My carriage is here.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you two plotting together?” said du Tillet, pushing open the + door of the boudoir. + </p> + <p> + He came in showing a torpid face lighted now by a speciously amiable + expression. The carpets had dulled his steps and the preoccupation of the + two sisters had kept them from noticing the noise of his carriage-wheels + on entering the court-yard. The countess, in whom the habits of social + life and the freedom in which her husband had left her had developed both + wit and shrewdness,—qualities repressed in her sister by marital + despotism, which simply continued that of their mother,—saw that + Eugenie’s terror was on the point of betraying them, and she evaded that + danger by a frank answer. + </p> + <p> + “I thought my sister richer than she is,” she replied, looking straight at + her brother-in-law. “Women are sometimes embarrassed for money, and do not + wish to tell their husbands, like Josephine with Napoleon. I came here to + ask Eugenie to do me a service.” + </p> + <p> + “She can easily do that, madame. Eugenie is very rich,” replied du Tillet, + with concealed sarcasm. + </p> + <p> + “Is she?” replied the countess, smiling bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “How much do you want?” asked du Tillet, who was not sorry to get his + sister-in-law into his meshes. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, monsieur! but I have told you already we do not wish to let our + husbands into this affair,” said Madame de Vandenesse, cautiously,—aware + that if she took his money, she would put herself at the mercy of the man + whose portrait Eugenie had fortunately drawn for her not ten minutes + earlier. “I will come to-morrow and talk with Eugenie.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow?” said the banker. “No; Madame du Tillet dines to-morrow with a + future peer of France, the Baron de Nucingen, who is to leave me his place + in the Chamber of Deputies.” + </p> + <p> + “Then permit her to join me in my box at the Opera,” said the countess, + without even glancing at her sister, so much did she fear that Eugenie’s + candor would betray them. + </p> + <p> + “She has her own box, madame,” said du Tillet, nettled. + </p> + <p> + “Very good; then I will go to hers,” replied the countess. + </p> + <p> + “It will be the first time you have done us that honor,” said du Tillet. + </p> + <p> + The countess felt the sting of that reproach, and began to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Well, never mind; you shall not be made to pay anything this time. Adieu, + my darling.” + </p> + <p> + “She is an insolent woman,” said du Tillet, picking up the flowers that + had fallen on the carpet. “You ought,” he said to his wife, “to study + Madame de Vandenesse. I’d like to see you before the world as insolent and + overbearing as your sister has just been here. You have a silly, bourgeois + air which I detest.” + </p> + <p> + Eugenie raised her eyes to heaven as her only answer. + </p> + <p> + “Ah ca, madame! what have you both been talking of?” said the banker, + after a pause, pointing to the flowers. “What has happened to make your + sister so anxious all of a sudden to go to your opera-box?” + </p> + <p> + The poor helot endeavored to escape questioning on the score of + sleepiness, and turned to go into her dressing-room to prepare for the + night; but du Tillet took her by the arm and brought her back under the + full light of the wax-candles which were burning in two silver-gilt + sconces between fragrant nosegays. He plunged his light eyes into hers and + said, coldly:— + </p> + <p> + “Your sister came here to borrow forty thousand francs for a man in whom + she takes an interest, who’ll be locked up within three days in a debtor’s + prison.” + </p> + <p> + The poor woman was seized with a nervous trembling, which she endeavored + to repress. + </p> + <p> + “You alarm me,” she said. “But my sister is far too well brought up, and + she loves her husband too much to be interested in any man to that + extent.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite the contrary,” he said, dryly. “Girls brought up as you two were, + in the constraints and practice of piety, have a thirst for liberty; they + desire happiness, and the happiness they get in marriage is never as fine + as that they dreamt of. Such girls make bad wives.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak for me,” said poor Eugenie, in a tone of bitter feeling, “but + respect my sister. The Comtesse de Vandenesse is happy; her husband gives + her too much freedom not to make her truly attached to him. Besides, if + your supposition were true, she would never have told me of such a + matter.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” he said, “and I forbid you to have anything to do with the + affair. My interests demand that the man shall go to prison. Remember my + orders.” + </p> + <p> + Madame du Tillet left the room. + </p> + <p> + “She will disobey me, of course, and I shall find out all the facts by + watching her,” thought du Tillet, when alone in the boudoir. “These poor + fools always think they can do battle against us.” + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders and rejoined his wife, or to speak the truth, + his slave. + </p> + <p> + The confidence made to Madame du Tillet by Madame Felix de Vandenesse is + connected with so many points of the latter’s history for the last six + years, that it would be unintelligible without a succinct account of the + principal events of her life. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE HISTORY OF A FORTUNATE WOMAN + </h2> + <p> + Among the remarkable men who owed their destiny to the Restoration, but + whom, unfortunately, the restored monarchy kept, with Martignac, aloof + from the concerns of government, was Felix de Vandenesse, removed, with + several others, to the Chamber of peers during the last days of Charles X. + This misfortune, though, as he supposed, temporary, made him think of + marriage, towards which he was also led, as so many men are, by a sort of + disgust for the emotions of gallantry, those fairy flowers of the soul. + There comes a vital moment to most of us when social life appears in all + its soberness. + </p> + <p> + Felix de Vandenesse had been in turn happy and unhappy, oftener unhappy + than happy, like men who, at their start in life, have met with Love in + its most perfect form. Such privileged beings can never subsequently be + satisfied; but, after fully experiencing life, and comparing characters, + they attain to a certain contentment, taking refuge in a spirit of general + indulgence. No one deceives them, for they delude themselves no longer; + but their resignation, their disillusionment is always graceful; they + expect what comes, and therefor they suffer less. Felix might still rank + among the handsomest and most agreeable men in Paris. He was originally + commended to many women by one of the noblest creatures of our epoch, + Madame de Mortsauf, who had died, it was said, out of love and grief for + him; but he was specially trained for social life by the handsome and + well-known Lady Dudley. + </p> + <p> + In the eyes of many Parisian women, Felix, a sort of hero of romance, owed + much of his success to the evil that was said of him. Madame de Manerville + had closed the list of his amorous adventures; and perhaps her dismissal + had something to do with his frame of mind. At any rate, without being in + any way a Don Juan, he had gathered in the world of love as many + disenchantments as he had met with in the world of politics. That ideal of + womanhood and of passion, the type of which—perhaps to his sorrow—had + lighted and governed his dawn of life, he despaired of ever finding again. + </p> + <p> + At thirty years of age, Comte Felix determined to put an end to the burden + of his various felicities by marriage. On that point his ideas were + extremely fixed; he wanted a young girl brought up in the strictest tenets + of Catholicism. It was enough for him to know how the Comtesse de + Granville had trained her daughters to make him, after he had once + resolved on marriage, request the hand of the eldest. He himself had + suffered under the despotism of a mother; he still remembered his unhappy + childhood too well not to recognize, beneath the reserves of feminine + shyness, the state to which such a yoke must have brought the heart of a + young girl, whether that heart was soured, embittered, or rebellious, or + whether it was still peaceful, lovable, and ready to unclose to noble + sentiments. Tyranny produces two opposite effects, the symbols of which + exist in two grand figures of ancient slavery, Epictetus and Spartacus,—hatred + and evil feelings on the one hand, resignation and tenderness, on the + other. + </p> + <p> + The Comte de Vandenesse recognized himself in Marie-Angelique de + Granville. In choosing for his wife an artless, innocent, and pure young + girl, this young old man determined to mingle a paternal feeling with the + conjugal feeling. He knew his own heart was withered by the world and by + politics, and he felt that he was giving in exchange for a dawning life + the remains of a worn-out existence. Beside those springtide flowers he + was putting the ice of winter; hoary experience with young and innocent + ignorance. After soberly judging the position, he took up his conjugal + career with ample precaution; indulgence and perfect confidence were the + two anchors to which he moored it. Mothers of families ought to seek such + men for their daughters. A good mind protects like a divinity; + disenchantment is as keen-sighted as a surgeon; experience as foreseeing + as a mother. Those three qualities are the cardinal virtues of a safe + marriage. All that his past career had taught to Felix de Vandenesse, the + observations of a life that was busy, literary, and thoughtful by turns, + all his forces, in fact, were now employed in making his wife happy; to + that end he applied his mind. + </p> + <p> + When Marie-Angelique left the maternal purgatory, she rose at once into + the conjugal paradise prepared for her by Felix, rue du Rocher, in a house + where all things were redolent of aristocracy, but where the varnish of + society did not impede the ease and “laisser-aller” which young and loving + hearts desire so much. From the start, Marie-Angelique tasted all the + sweets of material life to the very utmost. For two years her husband made + himself, as it were, her purveyor. He explained to her, by degrees, and + with great art, the things of life; he initiated her slowly into the + mysteries of the highest society; he taught her the genealogies of noble + families; he showed her the world; he guided her taste in dress; he + trained her to converse; he took her from theatre to theatre, and made her + study literature and current history. This education he accomplished with + all the care of a lover, father, master, and husband; but he did it + soberly and discreetly; he managed both enjoyments and instructions in + such a manner as not to destroy the value of her religious ideas. In + short, he carried out his enterprise with the wisdom of a great master. At + the end of four years, he had the happiness of having formed in the + Comtesse de Vandenesse one of the most lovable and remarkable young women + of our day. + </p> + <p> + Marie-Angelique felt for Felix precisely the feelings with which Felix + desired to inspire her,—true friendship, sincere gratitude, and a + fraternal love, in which was mingled, at certain times, a noble and + dignified tenderness, such as tenderness between husband and wife ought to + be. She was a mother, and a good mother. Felix had therefore attached + himself to his young wife by every bond without any appearance of + garroting her,—relying for his happiness on the charms of habit. + </p> + <p> + None but men trained in the school of life—men who have gone round + the circle of disillusionment, political and amorous—are capable of + following out a course like this. Felix, however, found in his work the + same pleasure that painters, writers, architects take in their creations. + He doubly enjoyed both the work and its fruition as he admired his wife, + so artless, yet so well-informed, witty, but natural, lovable and chaste, + a girl, and yet a mother, perfectly free, though bound by the chains of + righteousness. The history of all good homes is that of prosperous + peoples; it can be written in two lines, and has in it nothing for + literature. So, as happiness is only explicable to and by itself, these + four years furnish nothing to relate which was not as tender as the soft + outlines of eternal cherubs, as insipid, alas! as manna, and about as + amusing as the tale of “Astrea.” + </p> + <p> + In 1833, this edifice of happiness, so carefully erected by Felix de + Vandenesse, began to crumble, weakened at its base without his knowledge. + The heart of a woman of twenty-five is no longer that of a girl of + eighteen, any more than the heart of a woman of forty is that of a woman + of thirty. There are four ages in the life of woman; each age creates a + new woman. Vandenesse knew, no doubt, the law of these transformations + (created by our modern manners and morals), but he forgot them in his own + case,—just as the best grammarian will forget a rule of grammar in + writing a book, or the greatest general in the field under fire, surprised + by some unlooked-for change of base, forgets his military tactics. The man + who can perpetually bring his thought to bear upon his facts is a man of + genius; but the man of the highest genius does not display genius at all + times; if he did, he would be like to God. + </p> + <p> + After four years of this life, with never a shock to the soul, nor a word + that produced the slightest discord in this sweet concert of sentiment, + the countess, feeling herself developed like a beautiful plant in a + fertile soil, caressed by the sun of a cloudless sky, awoke to a sense of + a new self. This crisis of her life, the subject of this Scene, would be + incomprehensible without certain explanations, which may extenuate in the + eyes of women the wrong-doing of this young countess, a happy wife, a + happy mother, who seems, at first sight, inexcusable. + </p> + <p> + Life results from the action of two opposing principles; when one of them + is lacking the being suffers. Vandenesse, by satisfying every need, had + suppressed desire, that king of creation, which fills an enormous place in + the moral forces. Extreme heat, extreme sorrow, complete happiness, are + all despotic principles that reign over spaces devoid of production; they + insist on being solitary; they stifle all that is not themselves. + Vandenesse was not a woman, and none but women know the art of varying + happiness; hence their coquetry, refusals, fears, quarrels, and the + all-wise clever foolery with which they put in doubt the things that + seemed to be without a cloud the night before. Men may weary by their + constancy, but women never. Vandenesse was too thoroughly kind by nature + to worry deliberately the woman he loved; on the contrary, he kept her in + the bluest and least cloudy heaven of love. The problem of eternal + beatitude is one of those whose solution is known only to God. Here, + below, the sublimest poets have simply harassed their readers when + attempting to picture paradise. Dante’s reef was that of Vandenesse; all + honor to such courage! + </p> + <p> + Felix’s wife began to find monotony in an Eden so well arranged; the + perfect happiness which the first woman found in her terrestrial paradise + gave her at length a sort of nausea of sweet things, and made the countess + wish, like Rivarol reading Florian, for a wolf in the fold. Such, judging + by the history of ages, appears to be the meaning of that emblematic + serpent to which Eve listened, in all probability, out of ennui. This + deduction may seem a little venturesome to Protestants, who take the book + of Genesis more seriously than the Jews themselves. + </p> + <p> + The situation of Madame de Vandenesse can, however, be explained without + recourse to Biblical images. She felt in her soul an enormous power that + was unemployed. Her happiness gave her no suffering; it rolled along + without care or uneasiness; she was not afraid of losing it; each morning + it shone upon her, with the same blue sky, the same smile, the same sweet + words. That clear, still lake was unruffled by any breeze, even a zephyr; + she would fain have seen a ripple on its glassy surface. Her desire had + something so infantine about it that it ought to be excused; but society + is not more indulgent than the God of Genesis. Madame de Vandenesse, + having now become intelligently clever, was aware that such sentiments + were not permissible, and she refrained from confiding them to her “dear + little husband.” Her genuine simplicity had not invented any other name + for him; for one can’t call up in cold blood that delightfully exaggerated + language which love imparts to its victims in the midst of flames. + </p> + <p> + Vandenesse, glad of this adorable reserve, kept his wife, by deliberate + calculations, in the temperate regions of conjugal affection. He never + condescended to seek a reward or even an acknowledgment of the infinite + pains which he gave himself; his wife thought his luxury and good taste + her natural right, and she felt no gratitude for the fact that her pride + and self-love had never suffered. It was thus in everything. Kindness has + its mishaps; often it is attributed to temperament; people are seldom + willing to recognize it as the secret effort of a noble soul. + </p> + <p> + About this period of her life, Madame Felix de Vandenesse had attained to + a degree of worldly knowledge which enabled her to quit the insignificant + role of a timid, listening, and observing supernumerary,—a part + played, they say, for some time, by Giulia Grisi in the chorus at La + Scala. The young countess now felt herself capable of attempting the part + of prima-donna, and she did so on several occasions. To the great + satisfaction of her husband, she began to mingle in conversations. + Intelligent ideas and delicate observations put into her mind by her + intercourse with her husband, made her remarked upon, and success + emboldened her. Vandenesse, to whom the world admitted that his wife was + beautiful, was delighted when the same assurance was given that she was + clever and witty. On their return from a ball, concert, or rout where + Marie had shone brilliantly, she would turn to her husband, as she took + off her ornaments, and say, with a joyous, self-assured air,— + </p> + <p> + “Were you pleased with me this evening?” + </p> + <p> + The countess excited jealousies; among others that of her husband’s + sister, Madame de Listomere, who until now had patronized her, thinking + that she protected a foil to her own merits. A countess, beautiful, witty + and virtuous!—what a prey for the tongues of the world! Felix had + broken with too many women, and too many women had broken with him, to + leave them indifferent to his marriage. When these women beheld in Madame + de Vandenesse a small woman with red hands, and rather awkward manner, + saying little, and apparently not thinking much, they thought themselves + sufficiently avenged. The disasters of July, 1830, supervened; society was + dissolved for two years; the rich evaded the turmoil and left Paris either + for foreign travel or for their estates in the country, and none of the + salons reopened until 1833. When that time came, the faubourg + Saint-Germain still sulked, but it held intercourse with a few houses, + regarding them as neutral ground,—among others that of the Austrian + ambassador, where the legitimist society and the new social world met + together in the persons of their best representatives. + </p> + <p> + Attached by many ties of the heart and by gratitude to the exiled family, + and strong in his personal convictions, Vandenesse did not consider + himself obliged to imitate the silly behavior of his party. In times of + danger, he had done his duty at the risk of his life; his fidelity had + never been compromised, and he determined to take his wife into general + society without fear of its becoming so. His former mistresses could + scarcely recognize the bride they had thought so childish in the elegant, + witty, and gentle countess, who now appeared in society with the exquisite + manners of the highest female aristocracy. Mesdames d’Espard, de + Manerville, and Lady Dudley, with others less known, felt the serpent + waking up in the depths of their hearts; they heard the low hissings of + angry pride; they were jealous of Felix’s happiness, and would gladly have + given their prettiest jewel to do him some harm; but instead of being + hostile to the countess, these kind, ill-natured women surrounded her, + showed her the utmost friendship, and praised her to me. Sufficiently + aware of their intentions, Felix watched their relations with Marie, and + warned her to distrust them. They all suspected the uneasiness of the + count at their intimacy with his wife, and they redoubled their attentions + and flatteries, so that they gave her an enormous vogue in society, to the + great displeasure of her sister-in-law, the Marquise de Listomere, who + could not understand it. The Comtesse Felix de Vandenesse was cited as the + most charming and the cleverest woman in Paris. Marie’s other + sister-in-law, the Marquise Charles de Vandenesse, was consumed with + vexation at the confusion of names and the comparisons it sometimes + brought about. Though the marquise was a handsome and clever woman, her + rivals took delight in comparing her with her sister-in-law, with all the + more point because the countess was a dozen years younger. These women + knew very well what bitterness Marie’s social vogue would bring into her + intercourse with both of her sisters-in-law, who, in fact, became cold and + disobliging in proportion to her triumph in society. She was thus + surrounded by dangerous relations and intimate enemies. + </p> + <p> + Every one knows that French literature at that particular period was + endeavoring to defend itself against an apathetic indifference (the result + of the political drama) by producing works more or less Byronian, in which + the only topics really discussed were conjugal delinquencies. + Infringements of the marriage tie formed the staple of reviews, books, and + dramas. This eternal subject grew more and more the fashion. The lover, + that nightmare of husbands, was everywhere, except perhaps in homes, + where, in point of fact, under the bourgeois regime, he was less seen than + formerly. It is not when every one rushes to their window and cries + “Thief!” and lights the streets, that robbers abound. It is true that + during those years so fruitful of turmoil—urban, political, and + moral—a few matrimonial catastrophes took place; but these were + exceptional, and less observed than they would have been under the + Restoration. Nevertheless, women talked a great deal together about books + and the stage, then the two chief forms of poesy. The lover thus became + one of their leading topics,—a being rare in point of act and much + desired. The few affairs which were known gave rise to discussions, and + these discussions were, as usually happens, carried on by immaculate + women. + </p> + <p> + A fact worthy of remark is the aversion shown to such conversations by + women who are enjoying some illicit happiness; they maintain before the + eyes of the world a reserved, prudish, and even timid countenance; they + seem to ask silence on the subject, or some condonation of their pleasure + from society. When, on the contrary, a woman talks freely of such + catastrophes, and seems to take pleasure in doing so, allowing herself to + explain the emotions that justify the guilty parties, we may be sure that + she herself is at the crossways of indecision, and does not know what road + she might take. + </p> + <p> + During this winter, the Comtesse de Vandenesse heard the great voice of + the social world roaring in her ears, and the wind of its stormy gusts + blew round her. Her pretended friends, who maintained their reputations at + the height of their rank and their positions, often produced in her + presence the seductive idea of the lover; they cast into her soul certain + ardent talk of love, the “mot d’enigme” which life propounds to woman, the + grand passion, as Madame de Stael called it,—preaching by example. + When the countess asked naively, in a small and select circle of these + friends, what difference there was between a lover and a husband, all + those who wished evil to Felix took care to reply in a way to pique her + curiosity, or fire her imagination, or touch her heart, or interest her + mind. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! my dear, we vegetate with a husband, but we live with a lover,” said + her sister-in-law, the marquise. + </p> + <p> + “Marriage, my dear, is our purgatory; love is paradise,” said Lady Dudley. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t believe her,” cried Mademoiselle des Touches; “it is hell.” + </p> + <p> + “But a hell we like,” remarked Madame de Rochefide. “There is often more + pleasure in suffering than in happiness; look at the martyrs!” + </p> + <p> + “With a husband, my dear innocent, we live, as it were, in our own life; + but to love, is to live in the life of another,” said the Marquise + d’Espard. + </p> + <p> + “A lover is forbidden fruit, and that to me, says all!” cried the pretty + Moina de Saint-Heren, laughing. + </p> + <p> + When she was not at some diplomatic rout, or at a ball given by rich + foreigners, like Lady Dudley or the Princesse Galathionne, the Comtesse de + Vandenesse might be seen, after the Opera, at the houses of Madame + d’Espard, the Marquise de Listomere, Mademoiselle des Touches, the + Comtesse de Montcornet, or the Vicomtesse de Grandlieu, the only + aristocratic houses then open; and never did she leave any one of them + without some evil seed of the world being sown in her heart. She heard + talk of completing her life,—a saying much in fashion in those days; + of being comprehended,—another word to which women gave strange + meanings. She often returned home uneasy, excited, curious, and + thoughtful. She began to find something less, she hardly knew what, in her + life; but she did not yet go so far as to think it lonely. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. A CELEBRATED MAN + </h2> + <p> + The most amusing society, but also the most mixed, which Madame Felix de + Vandenesse frequented, was that of the Comtesse de Montcornet, a charming + little woman, who received illustrious artists, leading financial + personages, distinguished writers; but only after subjecting them to so + rigid an examination that the most exclusive aristocrat had nothing to + fear in coming in contact with this second-class society. The loftiest + pretensions were there respected. + </p> + <p> + During the winter of 1833, when society rallied after the revolution of + July, some salons, notably those of Mesdames d’Espard and de Listomere, + Mademoiselle des Touches, and the Duchesse de Grandlieu, had selected + certain of the celebrities in art, science, literature, and politics, and + received them. Society can lose nothing of its rights, and it must be + amused. At a concert given by Madame de Montcornet toward the close of the + winter of 1833, a man of rising fame in literature and politics appeared + in her salon, brought there by one of the wittiest, but also one of the + laziest writers of that epoch, Emile Blondet, celebrated behind closed + doors, highly praised by journalists, but unknown beyond the barriers. + Blondet himself was well aware of this; he indulged in no illusions, and, + among his other witty and contemptuous sayings, he was wont to remark that + fame is a poison good to take in little doses. + </p> + <p> + From the moment when the man we speak of, Raoul Nathan, after a long + struggle, forced his way to the public gaze, he had put to profit the + sudden infatuation for form manifested by those elegant descendants of the + middle ages, jestingly called Young France. He assumed the singularities + of a man of genius and enrolled himself among those adorers of art, whose + intentions, let us say, were excellent; for surely nothing could be more + ridiculous than the costume of Frenchmen in the nineteenth century, and + nothing more courageous than an attempt to reform it. Raoul, let us do him + this justice, presents in his person something fine, fantastic, and + extraordinary, which needs a frame. His enemies, or his friends, they are + about the same thing, agree that nothing could harmonize better with his + mind than his outward form. + </p> + <p> + Raoul Nathan would, perhaps, be more singular if left to his natural self + than he is with his various accompaniments. His worn and haggard face + gives him an appearance of having fought with angels or devils; it bears + some resemblance to that the German painters give to the dead Christ; + countless signs of a constant struggle between failing human nature and + the powers on high appear in it. But the lines in his hollow cheeks, the + projections of his crooked, furrowed skull, the caverns around his eyes + and behind his temples, show nothing weakly in his constitution. His hard + membranes, his visible bones are the signs of remarkable solidity; and + though his skin, discolored by excesses, clings to those bones as if dried + there by inward fires, it nevertheless covers a most powerful structure. + He is thin and tall. His long hair, always in disorder, is worn so for + effect. This ill-combed, ill-made Byron has heron legs and stiffened + knee-joints, an exaggerated stoop, hands with knotty muscles, firm as a + crab’s claws, and long, thin, wiry fingers. Raoul’s eyes are Napoleonic, + blue eyes, which pierce to the soul; his nose is crooked and very shrewd; + his mouth charming, embellished with the whitest teeth that any woman + could desire. There is fire and movement in the head, and genius on that + brow. Raoul belongs to the small number of men who strike your mind as you + pass them, and who, in a salon, make a luminous spot to which all eyes are + attracted. + </p> + <p> + He makes himself remarked also by his “neglige,” if we may borrow from + Moliere the word which Eliante uses to express the want of personal + neatness. His clothes always seem to have been twisted, frayed, and + crumpled intentionally, in order to harmonize with his physiognomy. He + keeps one of his hands habitually in the bosom of his waistcoat in the + pose which Girodet’s portrait of Monsieur de Chateaubriand has rendered + famous; but less to imitate that great man (for he does not wish to + resemble any one) than to rumple the over-smooth front of his shirt. His + cravat is no sooner put on than it is twisted by the convulsive motions of + his head, which are quick and abrupt, like those of a thoroughbred horse + impatient of harness, and constantly tossing up its head to rid itself of + bit and bridle. His long and pointed beard is neither combed, nor + perfumed, nor brushed, nor trimmed, like those of the elegant young men of + society; he lets it alone, to grow as it will. His hair, getting between + the collar of his coat and his cravat, lies luxuriantly on his shoulders, + and greases whatever spot it touches. His wiry, bony hands ignore a + nailbrush and the luxury of lemon. Some of his cofeuilletonists declare + that purifying waters seldom touch their calcined skin. + </p> + <p> + In short, the terrible Raoul is grotesque. His movements are jerky, as if + produced by imperfect machinery; his gait rejects all idea of order, and + proceeds by spasmodic zig-zags and sudden stoppages, which knock him + violently against peaceable citizens on the streets and boulevards of + Paris. His conversation, full of caustic humor, of bitter satire, follows + the gait of his body; suddenly it abandons its tone of vengeance and turns + sweet, poetic, consoling, gentle, without apparent reason; he falls into + inexplicable silences, or turns somersets of wit, which at times are + somewhat wearying. In society, he is boldly awkward, and exhibits a + contempt for conventions and a critical air about things respected which + makes him unpleasant to narrow minds, and also to those who strive to + preserve the doctrines of old-fashioned, gentlemanly politeness; but for + all that there is a sort of lawless originality about him which women do + not dislike. Besides, to them, he is often most amiably courteous; he + seems to take pleasure in making them forget his personal singularities, + and thus obtains a victory over antipathies which flatters either his + vanity, his self-love, or his pride. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you present yourself like that?” said the Marquise de Vandenesse + one day. + </p> + <p> + “Pearls live in oyster-shells,” he answered, conceitedly. + </p> + <p> + To another who asked him somewhat the same question, he replied,— + </p> + <p> + “If I were charming to all the world, how could I seem better still to the + one woman I wish to please?” + </p> + <p> + Raoul Nathan imports this same natural disorder (which he uses as a + banner) into his intellectual life; and the attribute is not misleading. + His talent is very much that of the poor girls who go about in bourgeois + families to work by the day. He was first a critic, and a great critic; + but he felt himself cheated in that vocation. His articles were equal to + books, he said. The profits of theatrical work then allured him; but, + incapable of the slow and steady application required for stage + arrangement, he was forced to associate with himself a vaudevillist, du + Bruel, who took his ideas, worked them over, and reduced them into those + productive little pieces, full of wit, which are written expressly for + actors and actresses. Between them, they had invented Florine, an actress + now in vogue. + </p> + <p> + Humiliated by this association, which was that of the Siamese twins, + Nathan had produced alone, at the Theatre-Francais, a serious drama, which + fell with all the honors of war amid salvos of thundering articles. In his + youth he had once before appeared at the great and noble Theatre-Francais + in a splendid romantic play of the style of “Pinto,”—a period when + the classic reigned supreme. The Odeon was so violently agitated for three + nights that the play was forbidden by the censor. This second piece was + considered by many a masterpiece, and won him more real reputation than + all his productive little pieces done with collaborators,—but only + among a class to whom little attention is paid, that of connoisseurs and + persons of true taste. + </p> + <p> + “Make another failure like that,” said Emile Blondet, “and you’ll be + immortal.” + </p> + <p> + But instead of continuing in that difficult path, Nathan had fallen, out + of sheer necessity, into the powder and patches of eighteenth-century + vaudeville, costume plays, and the reproduction, scenically, of successful + novels. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, he passed for a great mind which had not said its last word. + He had, moreover, attempted permanent literature, having published three + novels, not to speak of several others which he kept in press like fish in + a tank. One of these three books, the first (like that of many writers who + can only make one real trip into literature), had obtained a very + brilliant success. This work, imprudently placed in the front rank, this + really artistic work he was never weary of calling the finest book of the + period, the novel of the century. + </p> + <p> + Raoul complained bitterly of the exigencies of art. He was one of those + who contributed most to bring all created work, pictures, statues, books, + building under the single standard of Art. He had begun his career by + committing a volume of verse, which won him a place in the pleiades of + living poets; among these verses was a nebulous poem that was greatly + admired. Forced by want of means to keep on producing, he went from the + theatre to the press, and from the press to the theatre, dissipating and + scattering his talent, but believing always in his vein. His fame was + therefore not unpublished like that of so many great minds in extremity, + who sustain themselves only by the thought of work to be done. + </p> + <p> + Nathan resembled a man of genius; and had he marched to the scaffold, as + he sometimes wished he could have done, he might have struck his brow with + the famous action of Andre Chenier. Seized with political ambition on + seeing the rise to power of a dozen authors, professors, metaphysicians, + and historians, who encrusted themselves, so to speak, upon the machine + during the turmoils of 1830 and 1833, he regretted that he had not spent + his time on political instead of literary articles. He thought himself + superior to all those parvenus, whose success inspired him with consuming + jealousy. He belonged to the class of minds ambitious of everything, + capable of all things, from whom success is, as it were, stolen; who go + their way dashing at a hundred luminous points, and settling upon none, + exhausting at last the good-will of others. + </p> + <p> + At this particular time he was going from Saint-Simonism into + republicanism, to return, very likely, to ministerialism. He looked for a + bone to gnaw in all corners, searching for a safe place where he could + bark secure from kicks and make himself feared. But he had the + mortification of finding he was held to be of no account by de Marsay, + then at the head of the government, who had no consideration whatever for + authors, among whom he did not find what Richelieu called a consecutive + mind, or more correctly, continuity of ideas; he counted as any minister + would have done on the constant embarrassment of Raoul’s business affairs. + Sooner or later, necessity would bring him to accept conditions instead of + imposing them. + </p> + <p> + The real, but carefully concealed character of Raoul Nathan is of a piece + with his public career. He is a comedian in good faith, selfish as if the + State were himself, and a very clever orator. No one knows better how to + play off sentiments, glory in false grandeurs, deck himself with moral + beauty, do honor to his nature in language, and pose like Alceste while + behaving like Philinte. His egotism trots along protected by this + cardboard armor, and often almost reaches the end he seeks. Lazy to a + superlative degree, he does nothing, however, until he is prodded by the + bayonets of need. He is incapable of continued labor applied to the + creation of a work; but, in a paroxysm of rage caused by wounded vanity, + or in a crisis brought on by creditors, he leaps the Eurotas and attains + to some great triumph of his intellect. After which, weary, and surprised + at having created anything, he drops back into the marasmus of Parisian + dissipation; wants become formidable; he has no strength to face them; and + then he comes down from his pedestal and compromises. + </p> + <p> + Influenced by a false idea of his grandeur and of his future,—the + measure of which he reckons on the noble success of one of his former + comrades, one of the few great talents brought to light by the revolution + of July,—he allows himself, in order to get out of his + embarrassments, certain laxities of principle with persons who are + friendly to him,—laxities which never come to the surface, but are + buried in private life, where no one ever mentions or complains of them. + The shallowness of his heart, the impurity of his hand, which clasps that + of all vices, all evils, all treacheries, all opinions, have made him as + inviolable as a constitutional king. Venial sins, which excite a hue and + cry against a man of high character, are thought nothing of in him; the + world hastens to excuse them. Men who might otherwise be inclined to + despise him shake hands with him, fearing that the day may come when they + will need him. He has, in fact, so many friends that he wishes for + enemies. + </p> + <p> + Judged from a literary point of view, Nathan lacks style and cultivation. + Like most young men, ambitious of literary fame, he disgorges to-day what + he acquired yesterday. He has neither the time nor the patience to write + carefully; he does not observe, but he listens. Incapable of constructing + a vigorously framed plot, he sometimes makes up for it by the impetuous + ardor of his drawing. He “does passion,” to use a term of the literary + argot; but instead of awaking ideas, his heroes are simply enlarged + individualities, who excite only fugitive sympathies; they are not + connected with any of the great interests of life, and consequently they + represent nothing. Nevertheless, Nathan maintains his ground by the + quickness of his mind, by those lucky hits which billiard-players call a + “good stroke.” He is the cleverest shot at ideas on the fly in all Paris. + His fecundity is not his own, but that of his epoch; he lives on chance + events, and to control them he distorts their meaning. In short, he is not + <i>true</i>; his presentation is false; in him, as Comte Felix said, is + the born juggler. Moreover, his pen gets its ink in the boudoir of an + actress. + </p> + <p> + Raoul Nathan is a fair type of the Parisian literary youth of the day, + with its false grandeurs and its real misery. He represents that youth by + his incomplete beauties and his headlong falls, by the turbulent torrent + of his existence, with its sudden reverses and its unhoped-for triumphs. + He is truly the child of a century consumed with envy,—a century + with a thousand rivalries lurking under many a system, which nourish to + their own profit that hydra of anarchy which wants wealth without toil, + fame without talent, success without effort, but whose vices force it, + after much rebellion and many skirmishes, to accept the budget under the + powers that be. When so many young ambitions, starting on foot, give one + another rendezvous at the same point, there is always contention of wills, + extreme wretchedness, bitter struggles. In this dreadful battle, + selfishness, the most overbearing or the most adroit selfishness, gains + the victory; and it is envied and applauded in spite, as Moliere said, of + outcries, and we all know it. + </p> + <p> + When, in his capacity as enemy to the new dynasty, Raoul was introduced in + the salon of Madame de Montcornet, his apparent grandeurs were + flourishing. He was accepted as the political critic of the de Marsays, + the Rastignacs, and the Roche-Hugons, who had stepped into power. Emile + Blondet, the victim of incurable hesitation and of his innate repugnance + to any action that concerned only himself, continued his trade of scoffer, + took sides with no one, and kept well with all. He was friendly with + Raoul, friendly with Rastignac, friendly with Montcornet. + </p> + <p> + “You are a political triangle,” said de Marsay, laughing, when they met at + the Opera. “That geometric form, my dear fellow, belongs only to the + Deity, who has nothing to do; ambitious men ought to follow curved lines, + the shortest road in politics.” + </p> + <p> + Seen from a distance, Raoul Nathan was a very fine meteor. Fashion + accepted his ways and his appearance. His borrowed republicanism gave him, + for the time being, that Jansenist harshness assumed by the defenders of + the popular cause, while they inwardly scoff at it,—a quality not + without charm in the eyes of women. Women like to perform prodigies, break + rocks, and soften natures which seem of iron. + </p> + <p> + Raoul’s moral costume was therefore in keeping with his clothes. He was + fitted to be what he became to the Eve who was bored in her paradise in + the rue du Rocher,—the fascinating serpent, the fine talker with + magnetic eyes and harmonious motions who tempted the first woman. No + sooner had the Comtesse Marie laid eyes on Raoul than she felt an inward + emotion, the violence of which caused her a species of terror. The glance + of that fraudulent great man exercised a physical influence upon her, + which quivered in her very heart, and troubled it. But the trouble was + pleasure. The purple mantle which celebrity had draped for a moment round + Nathan’s shoulders dazzled the ingenuous young woman. When tea was served, + she rose from her seat among a knot of talking women, where she had been + striving to see and hear that extraordinary being. Her silence and + absorption were noticed by her false friends. + </p> + <p> + The countess approached the divan in the centre of the room, where Raoul + was perorating. She stood there with her arm in that of Madame Octave de + Camp, an excellent woman, who kept the secret of the involuntary trembling + by which these violent emotions betrayed themselves. Though the eyes of a + captivated woman are apt to shed wonderful sweetness, Raoul was too + occupied at that moment in letting off fireworks, too absorbed in his + epigrams going up like rockets (in the midst of which were flaming + portraits drawn in lines of fire) to notice the naive admiration of one + little Eve concealed in a group of women. Marie’s curiosity—like + that which would undoubtedly precipitate all Paris into the Jardin des + Plantes to see a unicorn, if such an animal could be found in those + mountains of the moon, still virgin of the tread of Europeans—intoxicates + a secondary mind as much as it saddens great ones; but Raoul was enchanted + by it; although he was then too anxious to secure all women to care very + much for one alone. + </p> + <p> + “Take care, my dear,” said Marie’s kind and gracious companion in her ear, + “and go home.” + </p> + <p> + The countess looked at her husband to ask for his arm with one of those + glances which husbands do not always understand. Felix did so, and took + her home. + </p> + <p> + “My dear friend,” said Madame d’Espard in Raoul’s ear, “you are a lucky + fellow. You have made more than one conquest to-night, and among them that + of the charming woman who has just left us so abruptly.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what the Marquise d’Espard meant by that?” said Raoul to + Rastignac, when they happened to be comparatively alone between one and + two o’clock in the morning. + </p> + <p> + “I am told that the Comtesse de Vandenesse has taken a violent fancy to + you. You are not to be pitied!” said Rastignac. + </p> + <p> + “I did not see her,” said Raoul. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! but you will see her, you scamp!” cried Emile Blondet, who was + standing by. “Lady Dudley is going to ask you to her grand ball, that you + may meet the pretty countess.” + </p> + <p> + Raoul and Blondet went off with Rastignac, who offered them his carriage. + All three laughed at the combination of an eclectic under-secretary of + State, a ferocious republican, and a political atheist. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose we sup at the expense of the present order of things?” said + Blondet, who would fain recall suppers to fashion. + </p> + <p> + Rastignac took them to Very’s, sent away his carriage, and all three sat + down to table to analyze society with Rabelaisian laughs. During the + supper, Rastignac and Blondet advised their provisional enemy not to + neglect such a capital chance of advancement as the one now offered to + him. The two “roues” gave him, in fine satirical style, the history of + Madame Felix de Vandenesse; they drove the scalpel of epigram and the + sharp points of much good wit into that innocent girlhood and happy + marriage. Blondet congratulated Raoul on encountering a woman guilty of + nothing worse so far than horrible drawings in red chalk, attenuated + water-colors, slippers embroidered for a husband, sonatas executed with + the best intentions,—a girl tied to her mother’s apron-strings till + she was eighteen, trussed for religious practices, seasoned by Vandenesse, + and cooked to a point by marriage. At the third bottle of champagne, Raoul + unbosomed himself as he had never done before in his life. + </p> + <p> + “My friends,” he said, “you know my relations with Florine; you also know + my life, and you will not be surprised to hear me say that I am absolutely + ignorant of what a countess’s love may be like. I have often felt + mortified that I, a poet, could not give myself a Beatrice, a Laura, + except in poetry. A pure and noble woman is like an unstained conscience,—she + represents us to ourselves under a noble form. Elsewhere we may soil + ourselves, but with her we are always proud, lofty, and immaculate. + Elsewhere we lead ill-regulated lives; with her we breathe the calm, the + freshness, the verdure of an oasis—” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, go on, my dear fellow!” cried Rastignac; “twang that fourth string + with the prayer in ‘Moses’ like Paganini.” + </p> + <p> + Raoul remained silent, with fixed eyes, apparently musing. + </p> + <p> + “This wretched ministerial apprentice does not understand me,” he said, + after a moment’s silence. + </p> + <p> + So, while the poor Eve in the rue du Rocher went to bed in the sheets of + shame, frightened at the pleasure with which she had listened to that sham + great poet, these three bold minds were trampling with jests over the + tender flowers of her dawning love. Ah! if women only knew the cynical + tone that such men, so humble, so fawning in their presence, take behind + their backs! how they sneer at what they say they adore! Fresh, pure, + gracious being, how the scoffing jester disrobes and analyzes her! but, + even so, the more she loses veils, the more her beauty shines. + </p> + <p> + Marie was at this moment comparing Raoul and Felix, without imagining the + danger there might be for her in such comparisons. Nothing could present a + greater contrast than the disorderly, vigorous Raoul to Felix de + Vandenesse, who cared for his person like a dainty woman, wore + well-fitting clothes, had a charming “desinvoltura,” and was a votary of + English nicety, to which, in earlier days, Lady Dudley had trained him. + Marie, as a good and pious woman, soon forbade herself even to think of + Raoul, and considered that she was a monster of ingratitude for making the + comparison. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of Raoul Nathan?” she asked her husband the next day at + breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “He is something of a charlatan,” replied Felix; “one of those volcanoes + who are easily calmed down with a little gold-dust. Madame de Montcornet + makes a mistake in admitting him.” + </p> + <p> + This answer annoyed Marie, all the more because Felix supported his + opinion with certain facts, relating what he knew of Raoul Nathan’s life,—a + precarious existence mixed up with a popular actress. + </p> + <p> + “If the man has genius,” he said in conclusion, “he certainly has neither + the constancy nor the patience which sanctifies it, and makes it a thing + divine. He endeavors to impose on the world by placing himself on a level + which he does nothing to maintain. True talent, pains-taking and honorable + talent does not act thus. Men who possess such talent follow their path + courageously; they accept its pains and penalties, and don’t cover them + with tinsel.” + </p> + <p> + A woman’s thought is endowed with incredible elasticity. When she receives + a knockdown blow, she bends, seems crushed, and then renews her natural + shape in a given time. + </p> + <p> + “Felix is no doubt right,” thought she. + </p> + <p> + But three days later she was once more thinking of the serpent, recalled + to him by that singular emotion, painful and yet sweet, which the first + sight of Raoul had given her. The count and countess went to Lady Dudley’s + grand ball, where, by the bye, de Marsay appeared in society for the last + time. He died about two months later, leaving the reputation of a great + statesman, because, as Blondet remarked, he was incomprehensible. + </p> + <p> + Vandenesse and his wife again met Raoul Nathan at this ball, which was + remarkable for the meeting of several personages of the political drama, + who were not a little astonished to find themselves together. It was one + of the first solemnities of the great world. The salons presented a + magnificent spectacle to the eye,—flowers, diamonds, and brilliant + head-dresses; all jewel-boxes emptied; all resources of the toilet put + under contribution. The ball-room might be compared to one of those choice + conservatories where rich horticulturists collect the most superb + rarities,—same brilliancy, same delicacy of texture. On all sides + white or tinted gauzes like the wings of the airiest dragon-fly, crepes, + laces, blondes, and tulles, varied as the fantasies of entomological + nature; dentelled, waved, and scalloped; spider’s webs of gold and silver; + mists of silk embroidered by fairy fingers; plumes colored by the fire of + the tropics drooping from haughty heads; pearls twined in braided hair; + shot or ribbed or brocaded silks, as though the genius of arabesque had + presided over French manufactures,—all this luxury was in harmony + with the beauties collected there as if to realize a “Keepsake.” The eye + received there an impression of the whitest shoulders, some amber-tinted, + others so polished as to seem colandered, some dewy, some plump and + satiny, as though Rubens had prepared their flesh; in short, all shades + known to man in white. Here were eyes sparkling like onyx or turquoise + fringed with dark lashes; faces of varied outline presenting the most + graceful types of many lands; foreheads noble and majestic, or softly + rounded, as if thought ruled, or flat, as if resistant will reigned there + unconquered; beautiful bosoms swelling, as George IV. admired them, or + widely parted after the fashion of the eighteenth century, or pressed + together, as Louis XV. required; some shown boldly, without veils, others + covered by those charming pleated chemisettes which Raffaelle painted. The + prettiest feet pointed for the dance, the slimmest waists encircled in the + waltz, stimulated the gaze of the most indifferent person present. The + murmur of sweet voices, the rustle of gowns, the cadence of the dance, the + whir of the waltz harmoniously accompanied the music. A fairy’s wand + seemed to have commanded this dazzling revelry, this melody of perfumes, + these iridescent lights glittering from crystal chandeliers or sparkling + in candelabra. This assemblage of the prettiest women in their prettiest + dresses stood out upon a gloomy background of men in black coats, among + whom the eye remarked the elegant, delicate, and correctly drawn profile + of nobles, the ruddy beards and grave faces of Englishmen, and the more + gracious faces of the French aristocracy. All the orders of Europe + glittered on the breasts or hung from the necks of these men. + </p> + <p> + Examining this society carefully, it was seen to present not only the + brilliant tones and colors and outward adornment, but to have a soul,—it + lived, it felt, it thought. Hidden passions gave it a physiognomy; + mischievous or malignant looks were exchanged; fair and giddy girls + betrayed desires; jealous women told each other scandals behind their + fans, or paid exaggerated compliments. Society, anointed, curled, and + perfumed, gave itself up to social gaiety which went to the brain like a + heady liquor. It seemed as if from all foreheads, as well as from all + hearts, ideas and sentiments were exhaling, which presently condensed and + reacted in a volume on the coldest persons present, and excited them. At + the most animated moment of this intoxicating party, in a corner of a + gilded salon where certain bankers, ambassadors, and the immoral old + English earl, Lord Dudley, were playing cards, Madame Felix de Vandenesse + was irresistibly drawn to converse with Raoul Nathan. Possibly she yielded + to that ball-intoxication which sometimes wrings avowals from the most + discreet. + </p> + <p> + At sight of such a fete, and the splendors of a world in which he had + never before appeared, Nathan was stirred to the soul by fresh ambition. + Seeing Rastignac, whose younger brother had just been made bishop at + twenty-seven years of age, and whose brother-in-law, Martial de la + Roche-Hugon, was a minister, and who himself was under-secretary of State, + and about to marry, rumor said, the only daughter of the Baron de + Nucingen,—a girl with an illimitable “dot”; seeing, moreover, in the + diplomatic body an obscure writer whom he had formerly known translating + articles in foreign journals for a newspaper turned dynastic since 1830, + also professors now made peers of France,—he felt with anguish that + he was left behind on a bad road by advocating the overthrow of this new + aristocracy of lucky talent, of cleverness crowned by success, and of real + merit. Even Blondet, so unfortunate, so used by others in journalism, but + so welcomed here, who could, if he liked, enter a career of public service + through the influence of Madame de Montcornet, seemed to Nathan’s eyes a + striking example of the power of social relations. Secretly, in his heart, + he resolved to play the game of political opinions, like de Marsay, + Rastignac, Blondet, Talleyrand, the leader of this set of men; to rely on + facts only, turn them to his own profit, regard his system as a weapon, + and not interfere with a society so well constituted, so shrewd, so + natural. + </p> + <p> + “My influence,” he thought, “will depend on the influence of some woman + belonging to this class of society.” + </p> + <p> + With this thought in his mind, conceived by the flame of this frenzied + desire, he fell upon the Comtesse de Vandenesse like a hawk on its prey. + That charming young woman in her head-dress of marabouts, which produced + the delightful “flou” of the paintings of Lawrence and harmonized well + with her gentle nature, was penetrated through and through by the foaming + vigor of this poet wild with ambition. Lady Dudley, whom nothing escaped, + aided this tete-a-tete by throwing the Comte de Vandenesse with Madame de + Manerville. Strong in her former ascendancy over him, Natalie de + Manerville amused herself by leading Felix into the mazes of a quarrel of + witty teasing, blushing half-confidences, regrets coyly flung like flowers + at his feet, recriminations in which she excused herself for the sole + purpose of being put in the wrong. + </p> + <p> + These former lovers were speaking to each other for the first time since + their rupture; and while her husband’s former love was stirring the embers + to see if a spark were yet alive, Madame Felix de Vandenesse was + undergoing those violent palpitations which a woman feels at the certainty + of doing wrong, and stepping on forbidden ground,—emotions that are + not without charm, and which awaken various dormant faculties. Women are + fond of using Bluebeard’s bloody key, that fine mythological idea for + which we are indebted to Perrault. + </p> + <p> + The dramatist—who knew his Shakespeare—displayed his + wretchedness, related his struggle with men and things, made his hearer + aware of his baseless grandeur, his unrecognized political genius, his + life without noble affections. Without saying a single definite word, he + contrived to suggest to this charming woman that she should play the noble + part of Rebecca in Ivanhoe, and love and protect him. It was all, of + course, in the ethereal regions of sentiment. Forget-me-nots are not more + blue, lilies not more white than the images, thoughts, and radiantly + illumined brow of this accomplished artist, who was likely to send his + conversation to a publisher. He played his part of reptile to this poor + Eve so cleverly, he made the fatal bloom of the apple so dazzling to her + eyes, that Marie left the ball-room filled with that species of remorse + which resembles hope, flattered in all her vanities, stirred to every + corner of her heart, caught by her own virtues, allured by her native pity + for misfortune. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps Madame de Manerville had taken Vandenesse into the salon where his + wife was talking with Nathan; perhaps he had come there himself to fetch + Marie, and take her home; perhaps his conversation with his former flame + had awakened slumbering griefs; certain it is that when his wife took his + arm to leave the ball-room, she saw that his face was sad and his look + serious. The countess wondered if he was displeased with her. No sooner + were they seated in the carriage than she turned to Felix and said, with a + mischievous smile,— + </p> + <p> + “Did not I see you talking half the evening with Madame de Manerville?” + </p> + <p> + Felix was not out of the tangled paths into which his wife had led him by + this charming little quarrel, when the carriage turned into their + court-yard. This was Marie’s first artifice dictated by her new emotion; + and she even took pleasure in triumphing over a man who, until then, had + seemed to her so superior. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. FLORINE + </h2> + <p> + Between the rue Basse-du-Rempart and the rue Neuve-des-Mathurins, Raoul + had, on the third floor of an ugly and narrow house, in the Passage + Sandrie, a poor enough lodging, cold and bare, where he lived ostensibly + for the general public, for literary neophytes, and for his creditors, + duns, and other annoying persons whom he kept on the threshold of private + life. His real home, his fine existence, his presentation of himself + before his friends, was in the house of Mademoiselle Florine, a + second-class comedy actress, where, for ten years, the said friends, + journalists, certain authors, and writers in general disported themselves + in the society of equally illustrious actresses. For ten years Raoul had + attached himself so closely to this woman that he passed more than half + his life with her; he took all his meals at her house unless he had some + friend to invite, or an invitation to dinner elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + To consummate corruption, Florine added a lively wit, which intercourse + with artists had developed and practice sharpened day by day. Wit is + thought to be a quality rare in comedians. It is so natural to suppose + that persons who spend their lives in showing things on the outside have + nothing within. But if we reflect on the small number of actors and + actresses who live in each century, and also on how many dramatic authors + and fascinating women this population has supplied relatively to its + numbers, it is allowable to refute that opinion, which rests, and + apparently will rest forever, on a criticism made against dramatic + artists,—namely, that their personal sentiments are destroyed by the + plastic presentation of passions; whereas, in fact, they put into their + art only their gifts of mind, memory, and imagination. Great artists are + beings who, to quote Napoleon, can cut off at will the connection which + Nature has put between the senses and thought. Moliere and Talma, in their + old age, were more in love than ordinary men in all their lives. + </p> + <p> + Accustomed to listen to journalists, who guess at most things, putting two + and two together, to writers, who foresee and tell all that they see; + accustomed also to the ways of certain political personages, who watched + one another in her house, and profited by all admissions, Florine + presented in her own person a mixture of devil and angel, which made her + peculiarly fitted to receive these roues. They delighted in her cool + self-possession; her anomalies of mind and heart entertained them + prodigiously. Her house, enriched by gallant tributes, displayed the + exaggerated magnificence of women who, caring little about the cost of + things, care only for the things themselves, and give them the value of + their own caprices,—women who will break a fan or a smelling-bottle + fit for queens in a moment of passion, and scream with rage if a servant + breaks a ten-franc saucer from which their poodle drinks. + </p> + <p> + Florine’s dining-room, filled with her most distinguished offerings, will + give a fair idea of this pell-mell of regal and fantastic luxury. + Throughout, even on the ceilings, it was panelled in oak, picked out, here + and there, by dead-gold lines. These panels were framed in relief with + figures of children playing with fantastic animals, among which the light + danced and floated, touching here a sketch by Bixiou, that maker of + caricatures, there the cast of an angel holding a vessel of holy water + (presented by Francois Souchet), farther on a coquettish painting of + Joseph Bridau, a gloomy picture of a Spanish alchemist by Hippolyte + Schinner, an autograph of Lord Byron to Lady Caroline Lamb, framed in + carved ebony, while, hanging opposite as a species of pendant, was a + letter from Napoleon to Josephine. All these things were placed about + without the slightest symmetry, but with almost imperceptible art. On the + chimney-piece, of exquisitely carved oak, there was nothing except a + strange, evidently Florentine, ivory statuette attributed to Michael + Angelo, representing Pan discovering a woman under the skin of a young + shepherd, the original of which is in the royal palace of Vienna. On + either side were candelabra of Renaissance design. A clock, by Boule, on a + tortoise-shell stand, inlaid with brass, sparkled in the centre of one + panel between two statuettes, undoubtedly obtained from the demolition of + some abbey. In the corners of the room, on pedestals, were lamps of royal + magnificence, as to which a manufacturer had made strong remonstrance + against adapting his lamps to Japanese vases. On a marvellous sideboard + was displayed a service of silver plate, the gift of an English lord, also + porcelains in high relief; in short, the luxury of an actress who has no + other property than her furniture. + </p> + <p> + The bedroom, all in violet, was a dream that Florine had indulged from her + debut, the chief features of which were curtains of violet velvet lined + with white silk, and looped over tulle; a ceiling of white cashmere with + violet satin rays, an ermine carpet beside the bed; in the bed, the + curtains of which resembled a lily turned upside down was a lantern by + which to read the newspaper plaudits or criticisms before they appeared in + the morning. A yellow salon, its effect heightened by trimmings of the + color of Florentine bronze, was in harmony with the rest of these + magnificences, a further description of which would make our pages + resemble the posters of an auction sale. To find comparisons for all these + fine things, it would be necessary to go to a certain house that was + almost next door, belonging to a Rothschild. + </p> + <p> + Sophie Grignault, surnamed Florine by a form of baptism common in + theatres, had made her first appearances, in spite of her beauty, on very + inferior boards. Her success and her money she owed to Raoul Nathan. This + association of their two fates, usual enough in the dramatic and literary + world, did no harm to Raoul, who kept up the outward conventions of a man + of the world. Moreover, Florine’s actual means were precarious; her + revenues came from her salary and her leaves of absence, and barely + sufficed for her dress and her household expenses. Nathan gave her certain + perquisites which he managed to levy as critic on several of the new + enterprises of industrial art. But although he was always gallant and + protecting towards her, that protection had nothing regular or solid about + it. + </p> + <p> + This uncertainty, and this life on a bough, as it were, did not alarm + Florine; she believed in her talent, and she believed in her beauty. Her + robust faith was somewhat comical to those who heard her staking her + future upon it, when remonstrances were made to her. + </p> + <p> + “I can have income enough when I please,” she was wont to say; “I have + invested fifty francs on the Grand-livre.” + </p> + <p> + No one could ever understand how it happened that Florine, handsome as she + was, had remained in obscurity for seven years; but the fact is, Florine + was enrolled as a supernumerary at thirteen years of age, and made her + debut two years later at an obscure boulevard theatre. At fifteen, neither + beauty nor talent exist; a woman is simply all promise. + </p> + <p> + She was now twenty-eight,—the age at which the beauties of a French + woman are in their glory. Painters particularly admired the lustre of her + white shoulders, tinted with olive tones about the nape of the neck, and + wonderfully firm and polished, so that the light shimmered over them as it + does on watered silk. When she turned her head, superb folds formed about + her neck, the admiration of sculptors. She carried on this triumphant neck + the small head of a Roman empress, the delicate, round, and self-willed + head of Pompeia, with features of elegant correctness, and the smooth + forehead of a woman who drives all care away and all reflection, who + yields easily, but is capable of balking like a mule, and incapable at + such times of listening to reason. That forehead, turned, as it were, with + one cut of the chisel, brought out the beauty of the golden hair, which + was raised in front, after the Roman fashion, in two equal masses, and + twisted up behind the head to prolong the line of the neck, and enhance + that whiteness by its beautiful color. Black and delicate eyebrows, drawn + by a Chinese brush, encircled the soft eyelids, which were threaded with + rosy fibres. The pupils of the eyes, extremely bright, though striped with + brown rays, gave to her glance the cruel fixity of a beast of prey, and + betrayed the cold maliciousness of the courtesan. The eyes were gray, + fringed with black lashes,—a charming contrast, which made their + expression of calm and contemplative voluptuousness the more observable; + the circle round the eyes showed marks of fatigue, but the artistic manner + in which she could turn her eyeballs, right and left, or up and down, to + observe, or seem to mediate, the way in which she could hold them fixed, + casting out their vivid fire without moving her head, without taking from + her face its absolute immovability (a manoeuvre learned upon the stage), + and the vivacity of their glance, as she looked about a theatre in search + of a friend, made her eyes the most terrible, also the softest, in short, + the most extraordinary eyes in the world. Rouge had destroyed by this time + the diaphanous tints of her cheeks, the flesh of which was still delicate; + but although she could no longer blush or turn pale, she had a thin nose + with rosy, passionate nostrils, made to express irony,—the mocking + irony of Moliere’s women-servants. Her sensual mouth, expressive of + sarcasm and love of dissipation, was adorned with a deep furrow that + united the upper lip with the nose. Her chin, white and rather fat, + betrayed the violence of passion. Her hands and arms were worthy of a + sovereign. + </p> + <p> + But she had one ineradicable sign of low birth,—her foot was short + and fat. No inherited quality ever caused greater distress. Florine had + tried everything, short of amputation, to get rid of it. The feet were + obstinate, like the Breton race from which she came; they resisted all + treatment. Florine now wore long boots stuffed with cotton, to give + length, and the semblance of an instep. Her figure was of medium height, + threatened with corpulence, but still well-balanced, and well-made. + </p> + <p> + Morally, she was an adept in all the attitudinizing, quarrelling, + alluring, and cajoling of her business; and she gave to those actions a + savor of their own by playing childlike innocence, and slipping in among + her artless speeches philosophical malignities. Apparently ignorant and + giddy, she was very strong on money-matters and commercial law,—for + the reason that she had gone through so much misery before attaining to + her present precarious success. She had come down, story by story, from + the garret to the first floor, through so many vicissitudes! She knew + life, from that which begins in Brie cheese and ends at pineapples; from + that which cooks and washes in the corner of a garret on an earthenware + stove, to that which convokes the tribes of pot-bellied chefs and + saucemakers. She had lived on credit and not killed it; she was ignorant + of nothing that honest women ignore; she spoke all languages: she was one + of the populace by experience; she was noble by beauty and physical + distinction. Suspicious as a spy, or a judge, or an old statesman, she was + difficult to impose upon, and therefore the more able to see clearly into + most matters. She knew the ways of managing tradespeople, and how to evade + their snares, and she was quite as well versed in the prices of things as + a public appraiser. To see her lying on her sofa, like a young bride, + fresh and white, holding her part in her hand and learning it, you would + have thought her a child of sixteen, ingenuous, ignorant, and weak, with + no other artifice about her but her innocence. Let a creditor contrive to + enter, and she was up like a startled fawn, and swearing a good round + oath. + </p> + <p> + “Hey! my good fellow; your insolence is too dear an interest on the money + I owe you,” she would say. “I am sick of seeing you. Send the sheriff + here; I’d prefer him to your silly face.” + </p> + <p> + Florine gave charming dinners, concerts, and well-attended soirees, where + play ran high. Her female friends were all handsome; no old woman had ever + appeared within her precincts. She was not jealous; in fact, she would + have thought jealousy an admission of inferiority. She had known Coralie + and La Torpille in their lifetimes, and now knew Tullia, Euphrasie, + Aquilina, Madame du Val-Noble, Mariette,—those women who pass + through Paris like gossamer through the atmosphere, without our knowing + where they go nor whence they came; to-day queens, to-morrow slaves. She + also knew the actresses, her rivals, and all the prima-donnas; in short, + that whole exceptional feminine society, so kindly, so graceful in its + easy “sans-souci,” which absorbs into its own Bohemian life all who allow + themselves to be caught in the frantic whirl of its gay spirits, its eager + abandonment, and its contemptuous indifference to the future. + </p> + <p> + Though this Bohemian life displayed itself in her house in tumultuous + disorder, amid the laughter of artists of every description, the queen of + the revels had ten fingers on which she knew better how to count than any + of her guests. In that house secret saturnalias of literature and art, + politics and finance were carried on; there, desire reigned a sovereign; + there, caprice and fancy were as sacred as honor and virtue to a + bourgeoise; thither came Blondet, Finot, Etienne Lousteau, Vernou the + feuilletonist, Couture, Bixiou, Rastignac in his earlier days, Claude + Vignon the critic, Nucingen the banker, du Tillet, Conti the composer,—in + short, that whole devil-may-care legion of selfish materialists of all + kinds; friends of Florine and of the singers, actresses and “danseuses” + collected about her. They all hated or liked one another according to + circumstances. + </p> + <p> + This Bohemian resort, to which celebrity was the only ticket of admission, + was a Hades of the mind, the galleys of the intellect. No one could enter + there without having legally conquered fortune, done ten years of misery, + strangled two or three passions, acquired some celebrity, either by books + or waistcoats, by dramas or fine equipages; plots were hatched there, + means of making fortune scrutinized, all things were discussed and + weighed. But every man, on leaving it, resumed the livery of his own + opinions; there he could, without compromising himself, criticise his own + party, admit the knowledge and good play of his adversaries, formulate + thoughts that no one admits thinking,—in short, say all, as if ready + to do all. Paris is the only place in the world where such eclectic houses + exist; where all tastes, all vices, all opinions are received under decent + guise. Therefore it is not yet certain that Florine will remain to the end + of her career a second-class actress. + </p> + <p> + Florine’s life was by no means an idle one, or a life to be envied. Many + persons, misled by the magnificent pedestal that the stage gives to a + woman, suppose her in the midst of a perpetual carnival. In the dark + recesses of a porter’s lodge, beneath the tiles of an attic roof, many a + poor girl dreams, on returning from the theatre, of pearls and diamonds, + gold-embroidered gowns and sumptuous girdles; she fancies herself adored, + applauded, courted; but little she knows of that treadmill life, in which + the actress is forced to rehearsals under pain of fines, to the reading of + new pieces, to the constant study of new roles. At each representation + Florine changes her dress at least two or three times; often she comes + home exhausted and half-dead; but before she can rest, she must wash off + with various cosmetics the white and the red she has applied, and clean + all the powder from her hair, if she has played a part from the eighteenth + century. She scarcely has time for food. When she plays, an actress can + live no life of her own; she can neither dress, nor eat, nor talk. Florine + often has no time to sup. On returning from a play, which lasts, in these + days, till after midnight, she does not get to bed before two in the + morning; but she must rise early to study her part, order her dresses, try + them on, breakfast, read her love-letters, answer them, discuss with the + leader of the “claque” the place for the plaudits, pay for the triumphs of + the last month in solid cash, and bespeak those of the month ahead. In the + days of Saint-Genest, the canonized comedian who fulfilled his duties in a + pious manner and wore a hair shirt, we must suppose that an actor’s life + did not demand this incessant activity. Sometimes Florine, seized with a + bourgeois desire to get out into the country and gather flowers, pretends + to the manager that she is ill. + </p> + <p> + But even these mechanical operations are nothing in comparison with the + intrigues to be carried on, the pains of wounded vanity to be endured,—preferences + shown by authors, parts taken away or given to others, exactions of the + male actors, spite of rivals, naggings of the stage manager, struggles + with journalists; all of which require another twelve hours to the day. + But even so far, nothing has been said of the art of acting, the + expression of passion, the practice of positions and gesture, the minute + care and watchfulness required on the stage, where a thousand + opera-glasses are ready to detect a flaw,—labors which consumed the + life and thought of Talma, Lekain, Baron, Contat, Clairon, Champmesle. In + these infernal “coulisses” self-love has no sex; the artist who triumphs, + be it man or woman, has all the other men and women against him or her. + Then, as to money, however many engagements Florine may have, her salary + does not cover the costs of her stage toilet, which, in addition to its + costumes, requires an immense variety of long gloves, shoes, and frippery; + and all this exclusive of her personal clothing. The first third of such a + life is spent in struggling and imploring; the next third, in getting a + foothold; the last third, in defending it. If happiness is frantically + grasped, it is because it is so rare, so long desired, and found at last + only amid the odious fictitious pleasures and smiles of such a life. + </p> + <p> + As for Florine, Raoul’s power in the press was like a protecting sceptre; + he spared her many cares and anxieties; she clung to him less as a lover + than a prop; she took care of him like a father, she deceived him like a + husband; but she would readily have sacrificed all she had to him. Raoul + could, and did do everything for her vanity as an actress, for the peace + of her self-love, and for her future on the stage. Without the + intervention of a successful author, there is no successful actress; + Champmesle was due to Racine, like Mars to Monvel and Andrieux. Florine + could do nothing in return for Raoul, though she would gladly have been + useful and necessary to him. She reckoned on the charms of habit to keep + him by her; she was always ready to open her salons and display the luxury + of her dinners and suppers for his friends, and to further his projects. + She desired to be for him what Madame de Pompadour was to Louis XV. All + actresses envied Florine’s position, and some journalists envied that of + Raoul. + </p> + <p> + Those to whom the inclination of the human mind towards chance, + opposition, and contrasts is known, will readily understand that after ten + years of this lawless Bohemian life, full of ups and downs, of fetes and + sheriffs, of orgies and forced sobrieties, Raoul was attracted to the idea + of another love,—to the gentle, harmonious house and presence of a + great lady, just as the Comtesse Felix instinctively desired to introduce + the torture of great emotions into a life made monotonous by happiness. + This law of life is the law of all arts, which exist only by contrasts. A + work done without this incentive is the loftiest expression of genius, + just as the cloister is the highest expression of the Christian life. + </p> + <p> + On returning to his lodging from Lady Dudley’s ball, Raoul found a note + from Florine, brought by her maid, which an invincible sleepiness + prevented him from reading at that moment. He fell asleep, dreaming of a + gentle love that his life had so far lacked. Some hours later he opened + the note, and found in it important news, which neither Rastignac nor de + Marsay had allowed to transpire. The indiscretion of a member of the + government had revealed to the actress the coming dissolution of the + Chamber after the present session. Raoul instantly went to Florine’s house + and sent for Blondet. In the actress’s boudoir, with their feet on the + fender, Emile and Raoul analyzed the political situation of France in + 1834. On which side lay the best chance of fortune? They reviewed all + parties and all shades of party,—pure republicans, presiding + republicans, republicans without a republic, constitutionals without a + dynasty, ministerial conservatives, ministerial absolutists; also the + Right, the aristocratic Right, the legitimist, henriquinquist Right, and + the Carlist Right. Between the party of resistance and that of action + there was no discussion; they might as well have hesitated between life + and death. + </p> + <p> + At this period a flock of newspapers, created to represent all shades of + opinion, produced a fearful pell-mell of political principles. Blondet, + the most judicious mind of the day,—judicious for others, never for + himself, like some great lawyers unable to manage their own affairs,—was + magnificent in such a discussion. The upshot was that he advised Nathan + not to apostatize too suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Napoleon said it; you can’t make young republics of old monarchies. + Therefore, my dear fellow, become the hero, the support, the creator of + the Left Centre in the new Chamber, and you’ll succeed. Once admitted into + political ranks, once in the government, you can be what you like,—of + any opinion that triumphs.” + </p> + <p> + Nathan was bent on creating a daily political journal and becoming the + absolute master of an enterprise which should absorb into it the countless + little papers then swarming from the press, and establish ramifications + with a review. He had seen so many fortunes made all around him by the + press that he would not listen to Blondet, who warned him not to trust to + such a venture, declaring that the plan was unsound, so great was the + present number of newspapers, all fighting for subscribers. Raoul, relying + on his so-called friends and his own courage, was all for daring it; he + sprang up eagerly and said, with a proud gesture,— + </p> + <p> + “I shall succeed.” + </p> + <p> + “But you haven’t a sou.” + </p> + <p> + “I will write a play.” + </p> + <p> + “It will fail.” + </p> + <p> + “Let it fail!” replied Nathan. + </p> + <p> + He rushed through the various rooms of Florine’s apartment, followed by + Blondet, who thought him crazy, looking with a greedy eye upon the wealth + displayed there. Blondet understood that look. + </p> + <p> + “There’s a hundred and more thousand francs in them,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Raoul, sighing, as he looked at Florine’s sumptuous bedstead; + “but I’d rather be a pedler all my life on the boulevard, and live on + fried potatoes, than sell one item of this apartment.” + </p> + <p> + “Not one item,” said Blondet; “sell all. Ambition is like death; it takes + all or nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “No, a hundred times no! I would take anything from my new countess; but + rob Florine of her shell? no.” + </p> + <p> + “Upset our money-box, break one’s balance-pole, smash our refuge,—yes, + that would be serious,” said Blondet with a tragic air. + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me from what I hear that you want to play politics instead of + comedies,” said Florine, suddenly appearing. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear, yes,” said Raoul, affectionately taking her by the neck and + kissing her forehead. “Don’t make faces at that; you won’t lose anything. + A minister can do better than a journalist for the queen of the boards. + What parts and what holidays you shall have!” + </p> + <p> + “Where will you get the money?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “From my uncle,” replied Raoul. + </p> + <p> + Florine knew Raoul’s “uncle.” The word meant usury, as in popular parlance + “aunt” means pawn. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t worry yourself, my little darling,” said Blondet to Florine, + tapping her shoulder. “I’ll get him the assistance of Massol, a lawyer who + wants to be deputy; also Finot, who has never yet got beyond his + ‘petit-journal,’ and Pantin, who wants to be master of petitions, and who + dabbles in reviews. Yes, I’ll save him from himself; we’ll convoke here to + supper Etienne Lousteau, who can do the feuilleton; Claude Vignon for + criticisms; Felicien Vernou as general care-taker; the lawyer will work, + and du Tillet may take charge of the Bourse, the money article, and all + industrial questions. We’ll see where these various talents and slaves + united will land the enterprise.” + </p> + <p> + “In a hospital or a ministry,—where all men ruined in body or mind + are apt to go,” said Raoul, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Where and when shall we invite them?” + </p> + <p> + “Here, five days hence.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me the sum you want,” said Florine, simply. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the lawyer, du Tillet, and Raoul will each have to put up a hundred + thousand francs before they embark on the affair,” replied Blondet. “Then + the paper can run eighteen months; about long enough for a rise and fall + in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + Florine gave a little grimace of approval. The two friends jumped into a + cabriolet to go about collecting guests and pens, ideas and + self-interests. + </p> + <p> + Florine meantime sent for certain dealers in old furniture, bric-a-brac, + pictures, and jewels. These men entered her sanctuary and took an + inventory of every article, precisely as if Florine were dead. She + declared she would sell everything at public auction if they did not offer + her a proper price. She had had the luck to please, she said, an English + lord, and she wanted to get rid of all her property and look poor, so that + he might give her a fine house and furniture, fit to rival the + Rothschilds. But in spite of these persuasions and subterfuges, all the + dealers would offer her for a mass of belongings worth a hundred and fifty + thousand was seventy thousand. Florine thereupon offered to deliver over + everything in eight days for eighty thousand,—“To take or leave,” + she said,—and the bargain was concluded. After the men had departed + she skipped for joy, like the hills of King David, and performed all + manner of follies, not having thought herself so rich. + </p> + <p> + When Raoul came back she made him a little scene, pretending to be hurt; + she declared that he abandoned her; that she had reflected; men did not + pass from one party to another, from the stage to the Chamber, without + some reason; there was a woman at the bottom; she had a rival! In short, + she made him swear eternal fidelity. Five days later she gave a splendid + feast. The new journal was baptized in floods of wine and wit, with oaths + of loyalty, fidelity, and good-fellowship. The name, forgotten now like + those of the Liberal, Communal, Departmental, Garde National, Federal, + Impartial, was something in “al” that was equally imposing and evanescent. + At three in the morning Florine could undress and go to bed as if alone, + though no one had left the house; these lights of the epoch were sleeping + the sleep of brutes. And when, early in the morning, the packers and vans + arrived to remove Florine’s treasures she laughed to see the porters + moving the bodies of the celebrated men like pieces of furniture that lay + in their way. “Sic transit” all her fine things! all her presents and + souvenirs went to the shops of the various dealers, where no one on seeing + them would know how those flowers of luxury had been originally paid for. + It was agreed that a few little necessary articles should be left, for + Florine’s personal convenience until evening,—her bed, a table, a + few chairs, and china enough to give her guests their breakfast. + </p> + <p> + Having gone to sleep beneath the draperies of wealth and luxury, these + distinguished men awoke to find themselves within bare walls, full of + nail-holes, degraded into abject poverty. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Florine!—The poor girl has been seized for debt!” cried + Bixiou, who was one of the guests. “Quick! a subscription for her!” + </p> + <p> + On this they all roused up. Every pocket was emptied and produced a total + of thirty-seven francs, which Raoul carried in jest to Florine’s bedside. + She burst out laughing and lifted her pillow, beneath which lay a mass of + bank-notes to which she pointed. + </p> + <p> + Raoul called to Blondet. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I see!” cried Blondet. “The little cheat has sold herself out without + a word to us. Well done, you little angel!” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon, the actress was borne in triumph into the dining-room where + most of the party still remained. The lawyer and du Tillet had departed. + </p> + <p> + That evening Florine had an ovation at the theatre; the story of her + sacrifice had circulated among the audience. + </p> + <p> + “I’d rather be applauded for my talent,” said her rival in the green-room. + </p> + <p> + “A natural desire in an actress who has never been applauded at all,” + remarked Florine. + </p> + <p> + During the evening Florine’s maid installed her in Raoul’s apartment in + the Passage Sandrie. Raoul himself was to encamp in the house where the + office of the new journal was established. + </p> + <p> + Such was the rival of the innocent Madame de Vandenesse. Raoul was the + connecting link between the actress and the countess,—a knot severed + by a duchess in the days of Louis XV. by the poisoning of Adrienne + Lecouvreur; a not inconceivable vengeance, considering the offence. + </p> + <p> + Florine, however, was not in the way of Raoul’s dawning passion. She + foresaw the lack of money in the difficult enterprise he had undertaken, + and she asked for leave of absence from the theatre. Raoul conducted the + negotiation in a way to make himself more than ever valuable to her. With + the good sense of the peasant in La Fontaine’s fable, who makes sure of a + dinner while the patricians talk, the actress went into the provinces to + cut faggots for her celebrated man while he was employed in hunting power. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. ROMANTIC LOVE + </h2> + <p> + On the morrow of the ball given by Lady Dudley, Marie, without having + received the slightest declaration, believed that she was loved by Raoul + according to the programme of her dreams, and Raoul was aware that the + countess had chosen him for her lover. Though neither had reached the + incline of such emotions where preliminaries are abridged, both were on + the road to it. Raoul, wearied with the dissipations of life, longed for + an ideal world, while Marie, from whom the thought of wrong-doing was far, + indeed, never imagined the possibility of going out of such a world. No + love was ever more innocent or purer than theirs; but none was ever more + enthusiastic or more entrancing in thought. + </p> + <p> + The countess was captivated by ideas worthy of the days of chivalry, + though completely modernized. The glowing conversation of the poet had + more echo in her mind than in her heart. She thought it fine to be his + providence. How sweet the thought of supporting by her white and feeble + hand this colossus,—whose feet of clay she did not choose to see; of + giving life where life was needed; of being secretly the creator of a + career; of helping a man of genius to struggle with fate and master it. + Ah! to embroider his scarf for the tournament! to procure him weapons! to + be his talisman against ill-fortune! his balm for every wound! For a woman + brought up like Marie, religious and noble as she was, such a love was a + form of charity. Hence the boldness of it. Pure sentiments often + compromise themselves with a lofty disdain that resembles the boldness of + courtesans. + </p> + <p> + As soon as by her specious distinctions Marie had convinced herself that + she did not in any way impair her conjugal faith, she rushed into the + happiness of loving Raoul. The least little things of her daily life + acquired a charm. Her boudoir, where she thought of him, became a + sanctuary. There was nothing there that did not rouse some sense of + pleasure; even her ink-stand was the coming accomplice in the pleasures of + correspondence; for she would now have letters to read and answer. Dress, + that splendid poesy of the feminine life, unknown or exhausted by her, + appeared to her eyes endowed with a magic hitherto unperceived. It + suddenly became clear to her what it is to most women, the manifestation + of an inward thought, a language, a symbol. How many enjoyments in a + toilet arranged to please <i>him</i>, to do <i>him</i> honor! She gave + herself up ingenuously to all those gracefully charming things in which so + many Parisian women spend their lives, and which give such significance to + all that we see about them, and in them, and on them. Few women go to + milliners and dressmakers for their own pleasure and interest. When old + they never think of adornment. The next time you meet in the street a + young woman stopping for a moment to look into a shop-window, examine her + face carefully. “Will he think I look better in that?” are the words + written on that fair brow, in the eyes sparkling with hope, in the smile + that flickers on the lips. + </p> + <p> + Lady Dudley’s ball took place on a Saturday night. On the following Monday + the countess went to the Opera, feeling certain of seeing Raoul, who was, + in fact, watching for her on one of the stairways leading down to the + stalls. With what delight did she observe the unwonted care he had + bestowed upon his clothes. This despiser of the laws of elegance had + brushed and perfumed his hair; his waistcoat followed the fashion, his + cravat was well tied, the bosom of his shirt was irreproachably smooth. + Raoul was standing with his arms crossed as if posed for his portrait, + magnificently indifferent to the rest of the audience and full of + repressed impatience. Though lowered, his eyes were turned to the red + velvet cushion on which lay Marie’s arm. Felix, seated in the opposite + corner of the box, had his back to Nathan. + </p> + <p> + So, in a moment, as it were, Marie had compelled this remarkable man to + abjure his cynicism in the line of clothes. All women, high or low, are + filled with delight on seeing a first proof of their power in one of these + sudden metamorphoses. Such changes are an admission of serfdom. + </p> + <p> + “Those women were right; there is a great pleasure in being understood,” + she said to herself, thinking of her treacherous friends. + </p> + <p> + When the two lovers had gazed around the theatre with that glance that + takes in everything, they exchanged a look of intelligence. It was for + each as if some celestial dew had refreshed their hearts, burned-up with + expectation. + </p> + <p> + “I have been here for an hour in purgatory, but now the heavens are + opening,” said Raoul’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I knew you were waiting, but how could I help it?” replied those of the + countess. + </p> + <p> + Thieves, spies, lovers, diplomats, and slaves of any kind alone know the + resources and comforts of a glance. They alone know what it contains of + meaning, sweetness, thought, anger, villainy, displayed by the + modification of that ray of light which conveys the soul. Between the box + of the Comtesse Felix de Vandenesse and the step on which Raoul had + perched there were barely thirty feet; and yet it was impossible to wipe + out that distance. To a fiery being, who had hitherto known no space + between his wishes and their gratification, this imaginary but insuperable + gulf inspired a mad desire to spring to the countess with the bound of a + tiger. In a species of rage he determined to try the ground and bow openly + to the countess. She returned the bow with one of those slight + inclinations of the head with which women take from their adorers all + desire to continue their attempt. Comte Felix turned round to see who had + bowed to his wife; he saw Nathan, but did not bow, and seemed to inquire + the meaning of such audacity; then he turned back slowly and said a few + words to his wife. Evidently the door of that box was closed to Nathan, + who cast a terrible look of hatred upon Felix. + </p> + <p> + Madame d’Espard had seen the whole thing from her box, which was just + above where Raoul was standing. She raised her voice in crying bravo to + some singer, which caused Nathan to look up to her; he bowed and received + in return a gracious smile which seemed to say:— + </p> + <p> + “If they won’t admit you there come here to me.” + </p> + <p> + Raoul obeyed the silent summons and went to her box. He felt the need of + showing himself in a place which might teach that little Vandenesse that + fame was every whit as good as nobility, and that all doors turned on + their hinges to admit him. The marquise made him sit in front of her. She + wanted to question him. + </p> + <p> + “Madame Felix de Vandenesse is fascinating in that gown,” she said, + complimenting the dress as if it were a book he had published the day + before. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Raoul, indifferently, “marabouts are very becoming to her; but + she seems wedded to them; she wore them on Saturday,” he added, in a + careless tone, as if to repudiate the intimacy Madame d’Espard was + fastening upon him. + </p> + <p> + “You know the proverb,” she replied. “There is no good fete without a + morrow.” + </p> + <p> + In the matter of repartees literary celebrities are often not as quick as + women. Raoul pretended dulness, a last resort for clever men. + </p> + <p> + “That proverb is true in my case,” he said, looking gallantly at the + marquise. + </p> + <p> + “My dear friend, your speech comes too late; I can’t accept it,” she said, + laughing. “Don’t be so prudish! Come, I know how it was; you complimented + Madame de Vandenesse at the ball on her marabouts and she has put them on + again for your sake. She likes you, and you adore her; it may be a little + rapid, but it is all very natural. If I were mistaken you wouldn’t be + twisting your gloves like a man who is furious at having to sit here with + me instead of flying to the box of his idol. She has obtained,” continued + Madame d’Espard, glancing at his person impertinently, “certain sacrifices + which you refused to make to society. She ought to be delighted with her + success,—in fact, I have no doubt she is vain of it; I should be so + in her place—immensely. She was never a woman of any mind, but she + may now pass for one of genius. I am sure you will describe her in one of + those delightful novels you write. And pray don’t forget Vandenesse; put + him in to please me. Really, his self-sufficiency is too much. I can’t + stand that Jupiter Olympian air of his,—the only mythological + character exempt, they say, from ill-luck.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” cried Raoul, “you rate my soul very low if you think me capable + of trafficking with my feelings, my affections. Rather than commit such + literary baseness, I would do as they do in England,—put a rope + round a woman’s neck and sell her in the market.” + </p> + <p> + “But I know Marie; she would like you to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “She is incapable of liking it,” said Raoul, vehemently. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! then you do know her well?” + </p> + <p> + Nathan laughed; he, the maker of scenes, to be trapped into playing one + himself! + </p> + <p> + “Comedy is no longer there,” he said, nodding at the stage; “it is here, + in you.” + </p> + <p> + He took his opera-glass and looked about the theatre to recover + countenance. + </p> + <p> + “You are not angry with me, I hope?” said the marquise, giving him a + sidelong glance. “I should have had your secret somehow. Let us make + peace. Come and see me; I receive every Wednesday, and I am sure the dear + countess will never miss an evening if I let her know you will be there. + So I shall be the gainer. Sometimes she comes between four and five + o’clock, and I’ll be kind and add you to the little set of favorites I + admit at that hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried Raoul, “how the world judges; it calls you unkind.” + </p> + <p> + “So I am when I need to be,” she replied. “We must defend ourselves. But + your countess I adore; you will be contented with her; she is charming. + Your name will be the first engraved upon her heart with that infantine + joy that makes a lad cut the initials of his love on the barks of trees.” + </p> + <p> + Raoul was aware of the danger of such conversations, in which a Parisian + woman excels; he feared the marquise would extract some admission from him + which she would instantly turn into ridicule among her friends. He + therefore withdrew, prudently, as Lady Dudley entered. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said the Englishwoman to the marquise, “how far have they got?” + </p> + <p> + “They are madly in love; he has just told me so.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish he were uglier,” said Lady Dudley, with a viperish look at Comte + Felix. “In other respects he is just what I want him: the son of a Jew + broker who died a bankrupt soon after his marriage; but the mother was a + Catholic, and I am sorry to say she made a Christian of the boy.” + </p> + <p> + This origin, which Nathan thought carefully concealed, Lady Dudley had + just discovered, and she enjoyed by anticipation the pleasure she should + have in launching some terrible epigram against Vandenesse. + </p> + <p> + “Heavens! I have just invited him to my house!” cried Madame d’Espard. + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t I receive him at my ball?” replied Lady Dudley. “Some pleasures, + my dear love, are costly.” + </p> + <p> + The news of the mutual attachment between Raoul and Madame de Vandenesse + circulated in the world after this, but not without exciting denials and + incredulity. The countess, however, was defended by her friends, Lady + Dudley, and Mesdames d’Espard and de Manerville, with an unnecessary + warmth that gave a certain color to the calumny. + </p> + <p> + On the following Wednesday evening Raoul went to Madame d’Espard’s, and + was able to exchange a few sentences with Marie, more expressive by their + tones than their ideas. In the midst of the elegant assembly both found + pleasure in those enjoyable sensations given by the voice, the gestures, + the attitude of one beloved. The soul then fastens upon absolute nothings. + No longer do ideas or even language speak, but things; and these so + loudly, that often a man lets another pay the small attentions—bring + a cup of tea, or the sugar to sweeten it—demanded by the woman he + loves, fearful of betraying his emotion to eyes that seem to see nothing + and yet see all. Raoul, however, a man indifferent to the eyes of the + world, betrayed his passion in his speech and was brilliantly witty. The + company listened to the roar of a discourse inspired by the restraint put + upon him; restraint being that which artists cannot endure. This Rolandic + fury, this wit which slashed down all things, using epigram as its weapon, + intoxicated Marie and amused the circle around them, as the sight of a + bull goaded with banderols amuses the company in a Spanish circus. + </p> + <p> + “You may kick as you please, but you can’t make a solitude about you,” + whispered Blondet. + </p> + <p> + The words brought Raoul to his senses, and he ceased to exhibit his + irritation to the company. Madame d’Espard came up to offer him a cup of + tea, and said loud enough for Madame de Vandenesse to hear:— + </p> + <p> + “You are certainly very amusing; come and see me sometimes at four + o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + The word “amusing” offended Raoul, though it was used as the ground of an + invitation. Blondet took pity on him. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow,” he said, taking him aside into a corner, “you are + behaving in society as if you were at Florine’s. Here no one shows + annoyance, or spouts long articles; they say a few words now and then, + they look their calmest when most desirous of flinging others out of the + window; they sneer softly, they pretend not to think of the woman they + adore, and they are careful not to roll like a donkey on the high-road. In + society, my good Raoul, conventions rule love. Either carry off Madame de + Vandenesse, or show yourself a gentleman. As it is, you are playing the + lover in one of your own books.” + </p> + <p> + Nathan listened with his head lowered; he was like a lion caught in a + toil. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll never set foot in this house again,” he cried. “That papier-mache + marquise sells her tea too dear. She thinks me amusing! I understand now + why Saint-Just wanted to guillotine this whole class of people.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll be back here to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Blondet was right. Passions are as mean as they are cruel. The next day + after long hesitation between “I’ll go—I’ll not go,” Raoul left his + new partners in the midst of an important discussion and rushed to Madame + d’Espard’s house in the faubourg Saint-Honore. Beholding Rastignac’s + elegant cabriolet enter the court-yard while he was paying his cab at the + gate, Nathan’s vanity was stung; he resolved to have a cabriolet himself, + and its accompanying tiger, too. The carriage of the countess was in the + court-yard, and the sight of it swelled Raoul’s heart with joy. Marie was + advancing under the pressure of her desires with the regularity of the + hands of a clock obeying the mainspring. He found her sitting at the + corner of the fireplace in the little salon. Instead of looking at Nathan + when he was announced, she looked at his reflection in a mirror. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le ministre,” said Madame d’Espard, addressing Nathan, and + presenting him to de Marsay by a glance, “was maintaining, when you came + in, that the royalists and the republicans have a secret understanding. + You ought to know something about it; is it so?” + </p> + <p> + “If it were so,” said Raoul, “where’s the harm? We hate the same thing; we + agree as to our hatreds, we differ only in our love. That’s the whole of + it.” + </p> + <p> + “The alliance is odd enough,” said de Marsay, giving a comprehensively + meaning glance at the Comtesse Felix and Nathan. + </p> + <p> + “It won’t last,” said Rastignac, thinking, perhaps, wholly of politics. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think, my dear?” asked Madame d’Espard, addressing Marie. + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing of public affairs,” replied the countess. + </p> + <p> + “But you soon will, madame,” said de Marsay, “and then you will be doubly + our enemy.” + </p> + <p> + So saying he left the room with Rastignac, and Madame d’Espard accompanied + them to the door of the first salon. The lovers had the room to themselves + for a few moments. Marie held out her ungloved hand to Raoul, who took and + kissed it as though he were eighteen years old. The eyes of the countess + expressed so noble a tenderness that the tears which men of nervous + temperament can always find at their service came into Raoul’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Where can I see you? where can I speak with you?” he said. “It is death + to be forced to disguise my voice, my look, my heart, my love—” + </p> + <p> + Moved by that tear Marie promised to drive daily in the Bois, unless the + weather were extremely bad. This promise gave Raoul more pleasure than he + had found in Florine for the last five years. + </p> + <p> + “I have so many things to say to you! I suffer from the silence to which + we are condemned—” + </p> + <p> + The countess looked at him eagerly without replying, and at that moment + Madame d’Espard returned to the room. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you answer de Marsay?” she said as she entered. + </p> + <p> + “We ought to respect the dead,” replied Raoul. “Don’t you see that he is + dying? Rastignac is his nurse,—hoping to be put in the will.” + </p> + <p> + The countess pretended to have other visits to pay, and left the house. + </p> + <p> + For this quarter of an hour Raoul had sacrificed important interests and + most precious time. Marie was perfectly ignorant of the life of such men, + involved in complicated affairs and burdened with exacting toil. Women of + society are still under the influence of the traditions of the eighteenth + century, in which all positions were definite and assured. Few women know + the harassments in the life of most men who in these days have a position + to make and to maintain, a fame to reach, a fortune to consolidate. Men of + settled wealth and position can now be counted; old men alone have time to + love; young men are rowing, like Nathan, the galleys of ambition. Women + are not yet resigned to this change of customs; they suppose the same + leisure of which they have too much in those who have none; they cannot + imagine other occupations, other ends in life than their own. When a lover + has vanquished the Lernean hydra in order to pay them a visit he has no + merit in their eyes; they are only grateful to him for the pleasure he + gives; they neither know nor care what it costs. Raoul became aware as he + returned from this visit how difficult it would be to hold the reins of a + love-affair in society, the ten-horsed chariot of journalism, his dramas + on the stage, and his generally involved affairs. + </p> + <p> + “The paper will be wretched to-night,” he thought, as he walked away. “No + article of mine, and only the second number, too!” + </p> + <p> + Madame Felix de Vandenesse drove three times to the Bois de Boulogne + without finding Raoul; the third time she came back anxious and uneasy. + The fact was that Nathan did not choose to show himself in the Bois until + he could go there as a prince of the press. He employed a whole week in + searching for horses, a phantom and a suitable tiger, and in convincing + his partners of the necessity of saving time so precious to them, and + therefore of charging his equipage to the costs of the journal. His + associates, Massol and du Tillet agreed to this so readily that he really + believed them the best fellows in the world. Without this help, however, + life would have been simply impossible to Raoul; as it was, it became so + irksome that many men, even those of the strongest constitutions, could + not have borne it. A violent and successful passion takes a great deal of + space in an ordinary life; but when it is connected with a woman in the + social position of Madame de Vandenesse it sucks the life out of a man as + busy as Raoul. Here is a list of the obligations his passion imposed upon + him. + </p> + <p> + Every day, or nearly every day, he was obliged to be on horseback in the + Bois, between two and three o’clock, in the careful dress of a gentleman + of leisure. He had to learn at what house or theatre he could meet Madame + de Vandenesse in the evening. He was not able to leave the party or the + play until long after midnight, having obtained nothing better than a few + tender sentences, long awaited, said in a doorway, or hastily as he put + her into her carriage. It frequently happened that Marie, who by this time + had launched him into the great world, procured for him invitations to + dinner in certain houses where she went herself. All this seemed the + simplest life in the world to her. Raoul moved by pride and led on by his + passion never told her of his labors. He obeyed the will of this innocent + sovereign, followed in her train, followed, also, the parliamentary + debates, edited and wrote for his newspaper, and put upon the stage two + plays, the money for which was absolutely indispensable to him. It + sufficed for Madame de Vandenesse to make a little face of displeasure + when he tried to excuse himself from attending a ball, a concert, or from + driving in the Bois, to compel him to sacrifice his most pressing + interests to her good pleasure. When he left society between one and two + in the morning he went straight to work until eight or nine. He was + scarcely asleep before he was obliged to be up and concocting the opinions + of his journal with the men of political influence on whom he depended,—not + to speak of the thousand and one other details of the paper. Journalism is + connected with everything in these days; with industrial concerns, with + public and private interests, with all new enterprises, and all the + schemes of literature, its self-loves, and its products. + </p> + <p> + When Nathan, harassed and fatigued, would rush from his editorial office + to the theatre, from the theatre to the Chamber, from the Chamber to face + certain creditors, he was forced to appear in the Bois with a calm + countenance, and gallop beside Marie’s carriage in the leisurely style of + a man devoid of cares and with no other duties than those of love. When in + return for this toilsome and wholly ignored devotion all he won were a few + sweet words, the prettiest assurances of eternal attachment, ardent + pressures of the hand on the very few occasions when they found themselves + alone, he began to feel he was rather duped by leaving his mistress in + ignorance of the enormous costs of these “little attentions,” as our + fathers called them. The occasion for an explanation arrived in due time. + </p> + <p> + On a fine April morning the countess accepted Nathan’s arm for a walk + through the sequestered path of the Bois de Boulogne. She intended to make + him one of those pretty little quarrels apropos of nothing, which women + are so fond of exciting. Instead of greeting him as usual, with a smile + upon her lips, her forehead illumined with pleasure, her eyes bright with + some gay or delicate thought, she assumed a grave and serious aspect. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” said Nathan. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you pretend to such ignorance?” she replied. “You ought to know + that a woman is not a child.” + </p> + <p> + “Have I displeased you?” + </p> + <p> + “Should I be here if you had?” + </p> + <p> + “But you don’t smile to me; you don’t seem happy to see me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! do you accuse me of sulking?” she said, looking at him with that + submissive air which women assume when they want to seem victims. + </p> + <p> + Nathan walked on a few steps in a state of real apprehension which + oppressed him. + </p> + <p> + “It must be,” he said, after a moment’s silence, “one of those frivolous + fears, those hazy suspicions which women dwell on more than they do on the + great things of life. You all have a way of tipping the world sideways + with a straw, a cobweb—” + </p> + <p> + “Sarcasm!” she said, “I might have expected it!” + </p> + <p> + “Marie, my angel, I only said those words to wring your secret out of + you.” + </p> + <p> + “My secret would be always a secret, even if I told it to you.” + </p> + <p> + “But all the same, tell it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not loved,” she said, giving him one of those sly oblique glances + with which women question so maliciously the men they are trying to + torment. + </p> + <p> + “Not loved!” cried Nathan. + </p> + <p> + “No; you are too occupied with other things. What am I to you in the midst + of them? forgotten on the least occasion! Yesterday I came to the Bois and + you were not here—” + </p> + <p> + “But—” + </p> + <p> + “I had put on a new dress expressly to please you; you did not come; where + were you?” + </p> + <p> + “But—” + </p> + <p> + “I did not know where. I went to Madame d’Espard’s; you were not there.” + </p> + <p> + “But—” + </p> + <p> + “That evening at the Opera, I watched the balcony; every time a door + opened my heart was beating!” + </p> + <p> + “But—” + </p> + <p> + “What an evening I had! You don’t reflect on such tempests of the heart.” + </p> + <p> + “But—” + </p> + <p> + “Life is shortened by such emotions.” + </p> + <p> + “But—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “You are right; life is shortened by them,” said Nathan, “and in a few + months you will utterly have consumed mine. Your unreasonable reproaches + drag my secret from me—Ha! you say you are not loved; you are loved + too well.” + </p> + <p> + And thereupon he vividly depicted his position, told of his sleepless + nights, his duties at certain hours, the absolute necessity of succeeding + in his enterprise, the insatiable requirements of a newspaper in which he + was required to judge the events of the whole world without blundering, + under pain of losing his power, and so losing all, the infinite amount of + rapid study he was forced to give to questions which passed as rapidly as + clouds in this all-consuming age, etc., etc. + </p> + <p> + Raoul made a great mistake. The Marquise d’Espard had said to him on one + occasion, “Nothing is more naive than a first love.” As he unfolded before + Marie’s eyes this life which seemed to her immense, the countess was + overcome with admiration. She had thought Nathan grand, she now considered + him sublime. She blamed herself for loving him too much; begged him to + come to her only when he could do so without difficulty. Wait? indeed she + could wait! In future, she should know how to sacrifice her enjoyments. + Wishing to be his stepping-stone was she really an obstacle? She wept with + despair. + </p> + <p> + “Women,” she said, with tears in her eyes, “can only love; men act; they + have a thousand ways in which they are bound to act. But we can only + think, and pray, and worship.” + </p> + <p> + A love that had sacrificed so much for her sake deserved a recompense. She + looked about her like a nightingale descending from a leafy covert to + drink at a spring, to see if she were alone in the solitude, if the + silence hid no witness; then she raised her head to Raoul, who bent his + own, and let him take one kiss, the first and the only one that she ever + gave in secret, feeling happier at that moment than she had felt in five + years. Raoul thought all his toils well-paid. They both walked forward + they scarcely knew where, but it was on the road to Auteuil; presently, + however, they were forced to return and find their carriages, pacing + together with the rhythmic step well-known to lovers. Raoul had faith in + that kiss given with the quiet facility of a sacred sentiment. All the + evil of it was in the mind of the world, not in that of the woman who + walked beside him. Marie herself, given over to the grateful admiration + which characterizes the love of woman, walked with a firm, light step on + the gravelled path, saying, like Raoul, but few words; yet those few were + felt and full of meaning. The sky was cloudless, the tall trees had + burgeoned, a few green shoots were already brightening their myriad of + brown twigs. The shrubs, the birches, the willows, the poplars were + showing their first diaphanous and tender foliage. No soul resists these + harmonies. Love explained Nature as it had already explained society to + Marie’s heart. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you have never loved any one but me,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Your wish is realized,” replied Raoul. “We have awakened in each other + the only true love.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke the truth as he felt it. Posing before this innocent young heart + as a pure man, Raoul was caught himself by his own fine sentiments. At + first purely speculative and born of vanity, his love had now become + sincere. He began by lying, he had ended in speaking truth. In all writers + there is ever a sentiment, difficult to stifle, which impels them to + admire the highest good. The countess, on her part, after her first rush + of gratitude and surprise, was charmed to have inspired such sacrifices, + to have caused him to surmount such difficulties. She was beloved by a man + who was worthy of her! Raoul was totally ignorant to what his imaginary + grandeur bound him. Women will not suffer their idol to step down from his + pedestal. They do not forgive the slightest pettiness in a god. Marie was + far from knowing the solution to the riddle given by Raoul to his friends + at Very’s. The struggle of this writer, risen from the lower classes, had + cost him the ten first years of his youth; and now in the days of his + success he longed to be loved by one of the queens of the great world. + Vanity, without which, as Champfort says, love would be but a feeble + thing, sustained his passion and increased it day by day. + </p> + <p> + “Can you swear to me,” said Marie, “that you belong and will never belong + to any other woman?” + </p> + <p> + “There is neither time in my life nor place in my heart for any other + woman,” replied Raoul, not thinking that he told a lie, so little did he + value Florine. + </p> + <p> + “I believe you,” she said. + </p> + <p> + When they reached the alley where their carriages were waiting, Marie + dropped Raoul’s arm, and the young man assumed a respectful and distant + attitude as if he had just met her; he accompanied her, with his hat off, + to her carriage, then he followed her by the Avenue Charles X., breathing + in, with satisfaction, the very dust her caleche raised. + </p> + <p> + In spite of Marie’s high renunciations, Raoul continued to follow her + everywhere; he adored the air of mingled pleasure and displeasure with + which she scolded him for wasting his precious time. She took direction of + his labors, she gave him formal orders on the employment of his time; she + stayed at home to deprive him of every pretext for dissipation. Every + morning she read his paper, and became the herald of his staff of editors, + of Etienne Lousteau the feuilletonist, whom she thought delightful, of + Felicien Vernou, of Claude Vignon,—in short, of the whole staff. She + advised Raoul to do justice to de Marsay when he died, and she read with + deep emotion the noble eulogy which Raoul published upon the dead minister + while blaming his Machiavelianism and his hatred for the masses. She was + present, of course, at the Gymnase on the occasion of the first + representation of the play upon the proceeds of which Nathan relied to + support his enterprise, and was completely duped by the purchased + applause. + </p> + <p> + “You did not bid farewell to the Italian opera,” said Lady Dudley, to + whose house she went after the performance. + </p> + <p> + “No, I went to the Gymnase. They gave a first representation.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t endure vaudevilles. I am like Louis XIV. about Teniers,” said + Lady Dudley. + </p> + <p> + “For my part,” said Madame d’Espard, “I think actors have greatly + improved. Vaudevilles in the present day are really charming comedies, + full of wit, requiring great talent; they amuse me very much.” + </p> + <p> + “The actors are excellent, too,” said Marie. “Those at the Gymnase played + very well to-night; the piece pleased them; the dialogue was witty and + keen.” + </p> + <p> + “Like those of Beaumarchais,” said Lady Dudley. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Nathan is not Moliere as yet, but—” said Madame d’Espard, + looking at the countess. + </p> + <p> + “He makes vaudevilles,” said Madame Charles de Vandenesse. + </p> + <p> + “And unmakes ministries,” added Madame de Manerville. + </p> + <p> + The countess was silent; she wanted to answer with a sharp repartee; her + heart was bounding with anger, but she could find nothing better to say + than,— + </p> + <p> + “He will make them, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + All the women looked at each other with mysterious significance. When + Marie de Vandenesse departed Moina de Saint-Heren exclaimed:— + </p> + <p> + “She adores him.” + </p> + <p> + “And she makes no secret of it,” said Madame d’Espard. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. SUICIDE + </h2> + <p> + In the month of May Vandenesse took his wife, as usual, to their + country-seat, where she was consoled by the passionate letters she + received from Raoul, to whom she wrote every day. + </p> + <p> + Marie’s absence might have saved Raoul from the gulf into which he was + falling, if Florine had been near him; but, unfortunately, he was alone in + the midst of friends who had become his enemies from the moment that he + showed his intention of ruling them. His staff of writers hated him “pro + tem.,” ready to hold out a hand to him and console him in case of a fall, + ready to adore him in case of success. So goes the world of literature. No + one is really liked but an inferior. Every man’s hand is against him who + is likely to rise. This wide-spread envy doubles the chances of common + minds who excite neither envy nor suspicion, who make their way like + moles, and, fools though they be, find themselves gazetted in the + “Moniteur,” for three or four places, while men of talent are still + struggling at the door to keep each other out. + </p> + <p> + The underhand enmity of these pretended friends, which Florine would have + scented with the innate faculty of a courtesan to get at truth amid a + thousand misleading circumstances, was by no means Raoul’s greatest + danger. His partners, Massol the lawyer, and du Tillet the banker, had + intended from the first to harness his ardor to the chariot of their own + importance and get rid of him as soon as he was out of condition to feed + the paper, or else to deprive him of his power, arbitrarily, whenever it + suited their purpose to take it. To them Nathan represented a certain + amount of talent to use up, a literary force of the motive power of ten + pens to employ. Massol, one of those lawyers who mistake the faculty of + endless speech for eloquence, who possess the art of boring by + diffusiveness, the torment of all meetings and assemblies where they + belittle everything, and who desire to become personages at any cost,—Massol + no longer wanted the place as Keeper of the Seals; he had seen some five + or six different men go through that office in four years, and the robes + disgusted him. In exchange, his mind was now set on obtaining a chair on + the Board of Education and a place in the Council of State; the whole + adorned with the cross of the Legion of honor. Du Tillet and Nucingen had + guaranteed the cross to him, and the office of Master of Petitions + provided he obeyed them blindly. + </p> + <p> + The better to deceive Raoul, these men allowed him to manage the paper + without control. Du Tillet used it only for his stock-gambling, about + which Nathan understood next to nothing; but he had given, through + Nucingen, an assurance to Rastignac that the paper would be tacitly + obliging to the government on the sole condition of supporting his + candidacy for Monsieur de Nucingen’s place as soon as he was nominated + peer of France. Raoul was thus being undermined by the banker and the + lawyer, who saw him with much satisfaction lording it in the newspaper, + profiting by all advantages, and harvesting the fruits of self-love, while + Nathan, enchanted, believed them to be, as on the occasion of his + equestrian wants, the best fellows in the world. He thought he managed + them! Men of imagination, to whom hope is the basis of existence, never + allow themselves to know that the most perilous moment in their affairs is + that when all seems going well according to their wishes. + </p> + <p> + This was a period of triumph by which Nathan profited. He appeared as a + personage in the world, political and financial. Du Tillet presented him + to the Nucingens. Madame de Nucingen received him cordially, less for + himself than for Madame de Vandenesse; but when she ventured a few words + about the countess he thought himself marvellously clever in using Florine + as a shield; he alluded to his relations with the actress in a tone of + generous self-conceit. How could he desert a great devotion, for the + coquetries of the faubourg Saint-Germain? + </p> + <p> + Nathan, manipulated by Nucingen and Rastignac, by du Tillet and Blondet, + gave his support ostentatiously to the “doctrinaires” of their new and + ephemeral cabinet. But in order to show himself pure of all bribery he + refused to take advantage of certain profitable enterprises which were + started by means of his paper,—he! who had no reluctance in + compromising friends or in behaving with little decency to mechanics under + certain circumstances. Such meannesses, the result of vanity and of + ambition, are found in many lives like his. The mantle must be splendid + before the eyes of the world, and we steal our friend’s or a poor man’s + cloth to patch it. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, two months after the departure of the countess, Raoul had a + certain Rabelaisian “quart d’heure” which caused him some anxiety in the + midst of these triumphs. Du Tillet had advanced a hundred thousand francs, + Florine’s money had gone in the costs of the first establishment of the + paper, which were enormous. It was necessary to provide for the future. + The banker agreed to let the editor have fifty thousand francs on notes + for four months. Du Tillet thus held Raoul by the halter of an IOU. By + means of this relief the funds of the paper were secured for six months. + In the eyes of some writers six months is an eternity. Besides, by dint of + advertising and by offering illusory advantages to subscribers two + thousand had been secured; an influx of travellers added to this + semi-success, which was enough, perhaps, to excuse the throwing of more + bank-bills after the rest. A little more display of talent, a timely + political trial or crisis, an apparent persecution, and Raoul felt certain + of becoming one of those modern “condottieri” whose ink is worth more than + powder and shot of the olden time. + </p> + <p> + This loan from du Tillet was already made when Florine returned with fifty + thousand francs. Instead of creating a savings fund with that sum, Raoul, + certain of success (simply because he felt it was necessary), and already + humiliated at having accepted the actress’s money, deceived Florine as to + his actual position, and persuaded her to employ the money in refurnishing + her house. The actress, who did not need persuasion, not only spent the + sum in hand, but she burdened herself with a debt of thirty thousand + francs, with which she obtained a charming little house all to herself in + the rue Pigale, whither her old society resorted. Raoul had reserved the + production of his great piece, in which was a part especially suited to + Florine, until her return. This comedy-vaudeville was to be Raoul’s + farewell to the stage. The newspapers, with that good nature which costs + nothing, prepared the way for such an ovation to Florine that even the + Theatre-Francais talked of engaging her. The feuilletons proclaimed her + the heiress of Mars. + </p> + <p> + This triumph was sufficiently dazzling to prevent Florine from carefully + studying the ground on which Nathan was advancing; she lived, for the time + being, in a round of festivities and glory. According to those about her, + he was now a great political character; he was justified in his + enterprise; he would certainly be a deputy, probably a minister in course + of time, like so many others. As for Nathan himself, he firmly believed + that in the next session of the Chamber he should find himself in + government with two other journalists, one of whom, already a minister, + was anxious to associate some of his own craft with himself, and so + consolidate his power. After a separation of six months, Nathan met + Florine again with pleasure, and returned easily to his old way of life. + All his comforts came from the actress, but he embroidered the heavy + tissue of his life with the flowers of ideal passion; his letters to Marie + were masterpieces of grace and style. Nathan made her the light of his + life; he undertook nothing without consulting his “guardian angel.” In + despair at being on the popular side, he talked of going over to that of + the aristocracy; but, in spite of his habitual agility, even he saw the + absolute impossibility of such a jump; it was easier to become a minister. + Marie’s precious replies were deposited in one of those portfolios with + patent locks made by Huret or Fichet, two mechanics who were then waging + war in advertisements and posters all over Paris, as to which could make + the safest and most impenetrable locks. + </p> + <p> + This portfolio was left about in Florine’s new boudoir, where Nathan did + much of his work. No one is easier to deceive than a woman to whom a man + is in the habit of telling everything; she has no suspicions; she thinks + she sees and hears and knows all. Besides, since her return, Nathan had + led the most regular of lives under her very nose. Never did she imagine + that that portfolio, which she hardly glanced at as it lay there + unconcealed, contained the letters of a rival, treasures of admiring love + which the countess addressed, at Raoul’s request, to the office of his + newspaper. + </p> + <p> + Nathan’s situation was, therefore, to all appearance, extremely brilliant. + He had many friends. The two plays lately produced had succeeded well, and + their proceeds supplied his personal wants and relieved him of all care + for the future. His debt to du Tillet, “his friend,” did not make him in + the least uneasy. + </p> + <p> + “Why distrust a friend?” he said to Blondet, who from time to time would + cast a doubt on his position, led to do so by his general habit of + analyzing. + </p> + <p> + “But we don’t need to distrust our enemies,” remarked Florine. + </p> + <p> + Nathan defended du Tillet; he was the best, the most upright of men. + </p> + <p> + This existence, which was really that of a dancer on the tight rope + without his balance-pole, would have alarmed any one, even the most + indifferent, had it been seen as it really was. Du Tillet watched it with + the cool eye and the cynicism of a parvenu. Through the friendly good + humor of his intercourse with Raoul there flashed now and then a malignant + jeer. One day, after pressing his hand in Florine’s boudoir and watching + him as he got into his carriage, du Tillet remarked to Lousteau (envier + par excellence):— + </p> + <p> + “That fellow is off to the Bois in fine style to-day, but he is just as + likely, six months hence, to be in a debtor’s prison.” + </p> + <p> + “He? never!” cried Lousteau. “He has Florine.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that he’ll keep her? As for you, who are worth a dozen of + him, I predict that you will be our editor-in-chief within six months.” + </p> + <p> + In October Nathan’s notes to du Tillet fell due, and the banker graciously + renewed them, but for two months only, with the discount added and a fresh + loan. Sure of victory, Raoul was not afraid of continuing to put his hand + in the bag. Madame Felix de Vandenesse was to return in a few days, a + month earlier than usual, brought back, of course, by her unconquerable + desire to see Nathan, who felt that he could not be short of money at a + time when he renewed that assiduous life. + </p> + <p> + Correspondence, in which the pen is always bolder than speech, and + thought, wreathing itself with flowers, allows itself to be seen without + disguise, and brought the countess to the highest pitch of enthusiasm. She + believed she saw in Raoul one of the noblest spirits of the epoch, a + delicate but misjudged heart without a stain and worthy of adoration; she + saw him advancing with a brave hand to grasp the sceptre of power. Soon + that speech so beautiful in love would echo from the tribune. Marie now + lived only in this life of a world outside her own. Her taste was lost for + the tranquil joys of home, and she gave herself up to the agitations of + this whirlwind life communicated by a clever and adoring pen. She kissed + Raoul’s letters, written in the midst of the ceaseless battles of the + press, with time taken from necessary studies; she felt their value; she + was certain of being loved, and loved only, with no rival but the fame and + ambition he adored. She found enough in her country solitude to fill her + soul and employ her faculties,—happy, indeed, to have been so chosen + by such a man, who to her was an angel. + </p> + <p> + During the last days of autumn Marie and Raoul again met and renewed their + walks in the Bois, where alone they could see each other until the salons + reopened. But when the winter fairly began, Raoul appeared in social life + at his apogee. He was almost a personage. Rastignac, now out of power with + the ministry, which went to pieces on the death of de Marsay, leaned upon + Nathan, and gave him in return the warmest praise. Madame de Vandenesse, + feeling this change in public opinion, was desirous of knowing if her + husband’s judgment had altered also. She questioned him again; perhaps + with the hope of obtaining one of those brilliant revenges which please + all women, even the noblest and least worldly,—for may we not + believe that even the angels retain some portion of their self-love as + they gather in serried ranks before the Holy of Holies? + </p> + <p> + “Nothing was wanting to Raoul Nathan but to be the dupe he now is to a + parcel of intriguing sharpers,” replied the count. + </p> + <p> + Felix, whose knowledge of the world and politics enabled him to judge + clearly, had seen Nathan’s true position. He explained to his wife that + Fieschi’s attempt had resulted in attaching to the interests threatened by + this attack on Louis-Philippe a large body of hitherto lukewarm persons. + The newspapers which were non-committal, and did not show their colors, + would lose subscribers; for journalism, like politics, was about to be + simplified by falling into regular lines. If Nathan had put his whole + fortune into that newspaper he would lose it. This judgment, so apparently + just and clear-cut, though brief and given by a man who fathomed a matter + in which he had no interest, alarmed Madame de Vandenesse. + </p> + <p> + “Do you take an interest in him?” asked her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Only as a man whose mind interests me and whose conversation I like.” + </p> + <p> + This reply was made so naturally that the count suspected nothing. + </p> + <p> + The next day at four o’clock, Marie and Raoul had a long conversation + together, in a low voice, in Madame d’Espard’s salon. The countess + expressed fears which Raoul dissipated, only too happy to destroy by + epigrams the conjugal judgment. Nathan had a revenge to take. He + characterized the count as narrow-minded, behind the age, a man who judged + the revolution of July with the eyes of the Restoration, who would never + be willing to admit the triumph of the middle-classes—the new force + of all societies, whether temporary or lasting, but a real force. Instead + of turning his mind to the study of an opinion given impartially and + incidentally by a man well-versed in politics, Raoul mounted his stilts + and stalked about in the purple of his own glory. Where is the woman who + would not have believed his glowing talk sooner than the cold logic of her + husband? Madame de Vandenesse, completely reassured, returned to her life + of little enjoyments, clandestine pressures of the hand, occasional + quarrels,—in short, to her nourishment of the year before, harmless + in itself, but likely to drag a woman over the border if the man she + favors is resolute and impatient of obstacles. Happily for her, Nathan was + not dangerous. Besides, he was too full of his immediate self-interests to + think at this time of profiting by his love. + </p> + <p> + But toward the end of December, when the second notes fell due, du Tillet + demanded payment. The rich banker, who said he was embarrassed, advised + Raoul to borrow the money for a short time from a usurer, from Gigonnet, + the providence of all young men who were pressed for money. In January, he + remarked, the renewal of subscriptions to the paper would be coming in, + there would be plenty of money in hand, and they could then see what had + best be done. Besides, couldn’t Nathan write a play? As a matter of pride + Raoul determined to pay off the notes at once. Du Tillet gave Raoul a + letter to Gigonnet, who counted out the money on a note of Nathan’s at + twenty days’ sight. Instead of asking himself the reason of such unusual + facility, Raoul felt vexed at his folly in not having asked for more. That + is how men who are truly remarkable for the power of thought are apt to + behave in practical business; they seem to reserve the power of their mind + for their writings, and are fearful of lessening it by putting it to use + in the daily affairs of life. + </p> + <p> + Raoul related his morning to Florine and Blondet. He gave them an + inimitable sketch of Gigonnet, his fireplace without fire, his shabby + wall-paper, his stairway, his asthmatic bell, his aged straw mattress, his + den without warmth, like his eye. He made them laugh about this new uncle; + they neither troubled themselves about du Tillet and his pretended want of + money, nor about an old usurer so ready to disburse. What was there to + worry about in that? + </p> + <p> + “He has only asked you fifteen per cent,” said Blondet; “you ought to be + grateful to him. At twenty-five per cent you don’t bow to those old + fellows. This is money-lending; usury doesn’t begin till fifty per cent; + and then you despise the usurer.” + </p> + <p> + “Despise him!” cried Florine; “if any of your friends lent you money at + that price they’d pose as your benefactors.” + </p> + <p> + “She is right; and I am glad I don’t owe anything now to du Tillet,” said + Raoul. + </p> + <p> + Why this lack of penetration as to their personal affairs in men whose + business it is to penetrate all things? Perhaps the mind cannot be + complete at all points; perhaps artists of every kind live too much in the + present moment to study the future; perhaps they are too observant of the + ridiculous to notice snares, or they may believe that none would dare to + lay a snare for such as they. However this may be, the future arrived in + due time. Twenty days later Raoul’s notes were protested, but Florine + obtained from the Court of commerce an extension of twenty-five days in + which to meet them. Thus pressed, Raoul looked into his affairs and asked + for the accounts, and it then appeared that the receipts of the newspaper + covered only two-thirds of the expenses, while the subscriptions were + rapidly dwindling. The great man now grew anxious and gloomy, but to + Florine only, in whom he confided. She advised him to borrow money on + unwritten plays, and write them at once, giving a lien on his work. Nathan + followed this advice and obtained thereby twenty thousand francs, which + reduced his debt to forty thousand. + </p> + <p> + On the 10th of February the twenty-five days expired. Du Tillet, who did + not want Nathan as a rival before the electoral college, where he meant to + appear himself, instigated Gigonnet to sue Nathan without compromise. A + man locked up for debt could not present himself as a candidate for + election. Florine was herself in communication with the sheriff on the + subject of her personal debts, and no resource was left to her but the “I” + of Medea, for her new furniture and belongings were now attached. The + ambitious Raoul heard the cracking in all directions of his prosperous + edifice, built, alas! without foundations. His nerve failed him; too weak + already to sustain so vast an enterprise, he felt himself incapable of + attempting to build it up again; he was fated to perish in its ashes. Love + for the countess gave him still a few thrills of life; his mask brightened + for a moment, but behind it hope was dead. He did not suspect the hand of + du Tillet, and laid the blame of his misfortune on the usurer. Rastignac, + Blondet, Lousteau, Vernou, Finot, and Massol took care not to enlighten + him. Rastignac, who wanted to return to power, made common cause with + Nucingen and du Tillet. The others felt a satisfaction in the catastrophe + of an equal who had attempted to make himself their master. None of them, + however, would have said a word to Florine; on the contrary, they praised + Raoul to her. + </p> + <p> + “Nathan,” they said, “has the shoulders of an Atlas; he’ll pull himself + through; all will come right.” + </p> + <p> + “There were two new subscribers yesterday,” said Blondet, gravely. “Raoul + will certainly be elected deputy. As soon as the budget is voted the + dissolution is sure to take place.” + </p> + <p> + But Nathan, sued, could no longer obtain even usury; Florine, with all her + personal property attached, could count on nothing but inspiring a passion + in some fool who might not appear at the right moment. Nathan’s friends + were all men without money and without credit. An arrest for debt would + destroy his hopes of a political career; and besides all this, he had + bound himself to do an immense amount of dramatic work for which he had + already received payment. He could see no bottom to the gulf of misery + that lay before him, into which he was about to roll. In presence of such + threatened evil his boldness deserted him. Would the Comtesse de + Vandenesse stand by him? Would she fly with him? Women are never led into + a gulf of that kind except by an absolute love, and the love of Raoul and + Marie had not bound them together by the mysterious and inalienable ties + of happiness. But supposing that the countess did follow him to some + foreign country; she would come without fortune, despoiled of everything, + and then, alas! she would merely be one more embarrassment to him. A mind + of a second order, and a proud mind like that of Nathan, would be likely + to see, under these circumstances, and did see, in suicide the sword to + cut the Gordian knots. The idea of failure in the face of the world and + that society he had so lately entered and meant to rule, of leaving the + chariot of the countess and becoming once more a muddied pedestrian, was + more than he could bear. Madness began to dance and whirl and shake her + bells at the gates of the fantastic palace in which the poet had been + dreaming. In this extremity, Nathan waited for some lucky accident, + determined not to kill himself until the final moment. + </p> + <p> + During the last days employed by the legal formalities required before + proceeding to arrest for debt, Raoul went about, in spite of himself, with + that coldly sullen and morose expression of face which may be noticed in + persons who are either fated to commit suicide or are meditating it. The + funereal ideas they are turning over in their minds appear upon their + foreheads in gray and cloudy tints, their smile has something fatalistic + in it, their motions are solemn. These unhappy beings seem to want to suck + the last juices of the life they mean to leave; their eyes see things + invisible, their ears are listening to a death-knell, they pay no + attention to the minor things about them. These alarming symptoms Marie + perceived one evening at Lady Dudley’s. Raoul was sitting apart on a sofa + in the boudoir, while the rest of the company were conversing in the + salon. The countess went to the door, but he did not raise his head; he + heard neither Marie’s breathing nor the rustle of her silk dress; he was + gazing at a flower in the carpet, with fixed eyes, stupid with grief; he + felt he had rather die than abdicate. All the world can’t have the rock of + Saint Helena for a pedestal. Moreover, suicide was then the fashion in + Paris. Is it not, in fact, the last resource of all atheistical societies? + Raoul, as he sat there, had decided that the moment had come to die. + Despair is in proportion to our hopes; that of Raoul had no other issue + than the grave. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” cried Marie, flying to him. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + There is one way of saying that word “nothing” between lovers which + signifies its exact contrary. Marie shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “You are a child,” she said. “Some misfortune has happened to you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, not to me,” he replied. “But you will know all soon enough, Marie,” + he added, affectionately. + </p> + <p> + “What were you thinking of when I came in?” she asked, in a tone of + authority. + </p> + <p> + “Do you want to know the truth?” She nodded. “I was thinking of you; I was + saying to myself that most men in my place would have wanted to be loved + without reserve. I am loved, am I not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” he said, taking her round the waist and kissing her forehead at + the risk of being seen, “I leave you pure and without remorse. I could + have dragged you into an abyss, but you remain in all your glory on its + brink without a stain. Yet one thought troubles me—” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “You will despise me.” She smiled superbly. “Yes, you will never believe + that I have sacredly loved you; I shall be disgraced, I know that. Women + never imagine that from the depths of our mire we raise our eyes to heaven + and truly adore a Marie. They assail that sacred love with miserable + doubts; they cannot believe that men of intellect and poesy can so detach + their soul from earthly enjoyment as to lay it pure upon some cherished + altar. And yet, Marie, the worship of the ideal is more fervent in men + then in women; we find it in women, who do not even look for it in us.” + </p> + <p> + “Why are you making me that article?” she said, jestingly. + </p> + <p> + “I am leaving France; and you will hear to-morrow, how and why, from a + letter my valet will bring you. Adieu, Marie.” + </p> + <p> + Raoul left the house after again straining the countess to his heart with + dreadful pressure, leaving her stupefied and distressed. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, my dear?” said Madame d’Espard, coming to look for + her. “What has Monsieur Nathan been saying to you? He has just left us in + a most melodramatic way. Perhaps you are too reasonable or too + unreasonable with him.” + </p> + <p> + The countess got into a hackney-coach and was driven rapidly to the + newspaper office. At that hour the huge apartments which they occupied in + an old mansion in the rue Feydeau were deserted; not a soul was there but + the watchman, who was greatly surprised to see a young and pretty woman + hurrying through the rooms in evident distress. She asked him to tell her + where was Monsieur Nathan. + </p> + <p> + “At Mademoiselle Florine’s, probably,” replied the man, taking Marie for a + rival who intended to make a scene. + </p> + <p> + “Where does he work?” + </p> + <p> + “In his office, the key of which he carries in his pocket.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to go there.” + </p> + <p> + The man took her to a dark little room looking out on a rear court-yard. + The office was at right angles. Opening the window of the room she was in, + the countess could look through into the window of the office, and she saw + Nathan sitting there in the editorial arm-chair. + </p> + <p> + “Break in the door, and be silent about all this; I’ll pay you well,” she + said. “Don’t you see that Monsieur Nathan is dying?” + </p> + <p> + The man got an iron bar from the press-room, with which he burst in the + door. Raoul had actually smothered himself, like any poor work-girl, with + a pan of charcoal. He had written a letter to Blondet, which lay on the + table, in which he asked him to ascribe his death to apoplexy. The + countess, however, had arrived in time; she had Raoul carried to her + coach, and then, not knowing where else to care for him, she took him to a + hotel, engaged a room, and sent for a doctor. In a few hours Raoul was out + of danger; but the countess did not leave him until she had obtained a + general confession of the causes of his act. When he had poured into her + heart the dreadful elegy of his woes, she said, in order to make him + willing to live:— + </p> + <p> + “I can arrange all that.” + </p> + <p> + But, nevertheless, she returned home with a heart oppressed with the same + anxieties and ideas that had darkened Nathan’s brow the night before. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what was the matter with your sister?” said Felix, when his wife + returned. “You look distressed.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a dreadful history about which I am bound to secrecy,” she said, + summoning all her nerve to appear calm before him. + </p> + <p> + In order to be alone and to think at her ease, she went to the Opera in + the evening, after which she resolved to go (as we have seen) and + discharge her heart into that of her sister, Madame du Tillet; relating to + her the horrible scene of the morning, and begging her advice and + assistance. Neither the one nor the other could then know that du Tillet + himself had lighted the charcoal of the vulgar brazier, the sight of which + had so justly terrified the countess. + </p> + <p> + “He has but me in all the world,” said Marie to her sister, “and I will + not fail him.” + </p> + <p> + That speech contains the secret motive of most women; they can be heroic + when they are certain of being all in all to a grand and irreproachable + being. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. A LOVER SAVED AND LOST + </h2> + <p> + Du Tillet had heard some talk even in financial circles of the more or + less possible adoration of his sister-in-law for Nathan; but he was one of + those who denied it, thinking it incompatible with Raoul’s known relations + with Florine. The actress would certainly drive off the countess, or vice + versa. But when, on coming home that evening, he found his sister-in-law + with a perturbed face, in consultation with his wife about money, it + occurred to him that Raoul had, in all probability, confided to her his + situation. The countess must therefore love him; she had doubtless come to + obtain from her sister the sum due to old Gigonnet. Madame du Tillet, + unaware, of course, of the reasons for her husband’s apparently + supernatural penetration, had shown such stupefaction when he told her the + sum wanted, that du Tillet’s suspicions became certainties. He was sure + now that he held the thread of all Nathan’s possible manoeuvres. + </p> + <p> + No one knew that the unhappy man himself was in bed in a small hotel in + the rue du Mail, under the name of the office watchman, to whom Marie had + promised five hundred francs if he kept silence as to the events of the + preceding night and morning. Thus bribed, the man, whose name was Francois + Quillet, went back to the office and left word with the portress that + Monsieur Nathan had been taken ill in consequence of overwork, and was + resting. Du Tillet was therefore not surprised at Raoul’s absence. It was + natural for the journalist to hide under any such pretence to avoid + arrest. When the sheriff’s spies made inquiries they learned that a lady + had carried him away in a public coach early in the morning; but it took + three days to ferret out the number of the coach, question the driver, and + find the hotel where the debtor was recovering his strength. Thus Marie’s + prompt action had really gained for Nathan a truce of four days. + </p> + <p> + Both sisters passed a cruel night. Such a catastrophe casts the lurid + gleams of its charcoal over the whole of life, showing reefs, pools, + depths, where the eye has hitherto seen only summits and grandeurs. Struck + by the horrible picture of a young man lying back in his chair to die, + with the last proofs of his paper before him, containing in type his last + thoughts, poor Madame du Tillet could think of nothing else than how to + save him and restore a life so precious to her sister. It is the nature of + our mind to see effects before we analyze their causes. Eugenie recurred + to her first idea of consulting Madame Delphine de Nucingen, with whom she + was to dine, and she resolved to make the attempt, not doubting of + success. Generous, like all persons who are not bound in the polished + steel armor of modern society, Madame du Tillet resolved to take the whole + matter upon herself. + </p> + <p> + The countess, on the other hand, happy in the thought that she had saved + Raoul’s life, spent the night in devising means to obtain the forty + thousand francs. In emergencies like these women are sublime; they find + contrivances which would astonish thieves, business men, and usurers, if + those three classes of industrials were capable of being astonished. + First, the countess sold her diamonds and decided on wearing paste; then + she resolved to ask the money from Vandenesse on her sister’s account; but + these were dishonorable means, and her soul was too noble not to recoil at + them; she merely conceived them, and cast them from her. Ask money of + Vandenesse to give to Nathan! She bounded in her bed with horror at such + baseness. Wear false diamonds to deceive her husband! Next she thought of + borrowing the money from the Rothschilds, who had so much, or from the + archbishop of Paris, whose mission it was to help persons in distress; + darting thus from thought to thought, seeking help in all. She deplored + belonging to a class opposed to the government. Formerly, she could easily + have borrowed the money on the steps of the throne. She thought of + appealing to her father, the Comte de Granville. But that great magistrate + had a horror of illegalities; his children knew how little he sympathized + with the trials of love; he was now a misanthrope and held all affairs of + the heart in horror. As for the Comtesse de Granville, she was living a + retired life on one of her estates in Normandy, economizing and praying, + ending her days between priests and money-bags, cold as ever to her dying + moment. Even supposing that Marie had time to go to Bayeux and implore + her, would her mother give her such a sum unless she explained why she + wanted it? Could she say she had debts? Yes, perhaps her mother would be + softened by the wants of her favorite child. Well, then! in case all other + means failed, she <i>would</i> go to Normandy. The dreadful sight of the + morning, the effects she had made to revive Nathan, the hours passed + beside his pillow, his broken confession, the agony of a great soul, a + vast genius stopped in its upward flight by a sordid vulgar obstacle,—all + these things rushed into her memory and stimulated her love. She went over + and over her emotions, and felt her love to be deeper in these days of + misery than in those of Nathan’s fame and grandeur. She felt the nobility + of his last words said to her in Lady Dudley’s boudoir. What sacredness in + that farewell! What grandeur in the immolation of a selfish happiness + which would have been her torture! The countess had longed for emotions, + and now she had them,—terrible, cruel, and yet most precious. She + lived a deeper life in pain than in pleasure. With what delight she said + to herself: “I have saved him once, and I will save him again.” She heard + him cry out when he felt her lips upon his forehead, “Many a poor wretch + does not know what love is!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you ill?” said her husband, coming into her room to take her to + breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “I am dreadfully worried about a matter that is happening at my sister’s,” + she replied, without actually telling a lie. + </p> + <p> + “Your sister has fallen into bad hands,” replied Felix. “It is a shame for + any family to have a du Tillet in it,—a man without honor of any + kind. If disaster happened to her she would get no pity from him.” + </p> + <p> + “What woman wants pity?” said the countess, with a convulsive motion. “A + man’s sternness is to us our only pardon.” + </p> + <p> + “This is not the first time that I read your noble heart,” said the count. + “A woman who thinks as you do needs no watching.” + </p> + <p> + “Watching!” she said; “another shame that recoils on you.” + </p> + <p> + Felix smiled, but Marie blushed. When women are secretly to blame they + often show ostensibly the utmost womanly pride. It is a dissimulation of + mind for which we ought to be obliged to them. The deception is full of + dignity, if not of grandeur. Marie wrote two lines to Nathan under the + name of Monsieur Quillet, to tell him that all went well, and sent them by + a street porter to the hotel du Mail. That night, at the Opera, Felix + thought it very natural that she should wish to leave her box and go to + that of her sister, and he waited till du Tillet had left his wife to give + Marie his arm and take her there. Who can tell what emotions agitated her + as she went through the corridors and entered her sister’s box with a face + that was outwardly serene and calm! + </p> + <p> + “Well?” she said, as soon as they were alone. + </p> + <p> + Eugenie’s face was an answer; it was bright with a joy which some persons + might have attributed to the satisfaction of vanity. + </p> + <p> + “He can be saved, dear; but for three months only; during which time we + must plan some other means of doing it permanently. Madame de Nucingen + wants four notes of hand, each for ten thousand francs, endorsed by any + one, no matter who, so as not to compromise you. She explained to me how + they were made, but I couldn’t understand her. Monsieur Nathan, however, + can make them for us. I thought of Schmucke, our old master. I am sure he + could be very useful in this emergency; he will endorse the notes. You + must add to the four notes a letter in which you guarantee their payment + to Madame de Nucingen, and she will give you the money to-morrow. Do the + whole thing yourself; don’t trust it to any one. I feel sure that Schmucke + will make no objection. To divert all suspicion I told Madame de Nucingen + you wanted to oblige our old music-master who was in distress, and I asked + her to keep the matter secret.” + </p> + <p> + “You have the sense of angels! I only hope Madame de Nucingen won’t tell + of it until after she gives me the money,” said the countess. + </p> + <p> + “Schmucke lives in the rue de Nevers on the quai Conti; don’t forget the + address, and go yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks!” said the countess, pressing her sister’s hand. “Ah! I’d give ten + years of life—” + </p> + <p> + “Out of your old age—” + </p> + <p> + “If I could put an end to these anxieties,” said the countess, smiling at + the interruption. + </p> + <p> + The persons who were at that moment levelling their opera-glasses at the + two sisters might well have supposed them engaged in some light-hearted + talk; but any observer who had come to the Opera more for the pleasure of + watching faces than for mere idle amusement might have guessed them in + trouble, from the anxious look which followed the momentary smiles on + their charming faces. Raoul, who did not fear the bailiffs at night, + appeared, pale and ashy, with anxious eye and gloomy brow, on the step of + the staircase where he regularly took his stand. He looked for the + Countess in her box and, finding it empty, buried his face in his hands, + leaning his elbows on the balustrade. + </p> + <p> + “Can she be here!” he thought. + </p> + <p> + “Look up, unhappy hero,” whispered Mme. du Tillet. + </p> + <p> + As for Marie, at all risks she fixed on him that steady magnetic gaze, in + which the will flashes from the eye, as rays of light from the sun. Such a + look, mesmerizers say, penetrates to the person on whom it is directed, + and certainly Raoul seemed as though struck by a magic wand. Raising his + head, his eyes met those of the sisters. With that charming feminine + readiness which is never at fault, Mme. de Vandenesse seized a cross, + sparkling on her neck, and directed his attention to it by a swift smile, + full of meaning. The brilliance of the gem radiated even upon Raoul’s + forehead, and he replied with a look of joy; he had understood. + </p> + <p> + “Is it nothing then, Eugenie,” said the Countess, “thus to restore life to + the dead?” + </p> + <p> + “You have a chance yet with the Royal Humane Society,” replied Eugenie, + with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “How wretched and depressed he looked when he came, and how happy he will + go away!” + </p> + <p> + At this moment du Tillet, coming up to Raoul with every mark of + friendliness, pressed his hand, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, old fellow, how are you?” + </p> + <p> + “As well as a man is likely to be who has just got the best possible news + of the election. I shall be successful,” replied Raoul, radiant. + </p> + <p> + “Delighted,” said du Tillet. “We shall want money for the paper.” + </p> + <p> + “The money will be found,” said Raoul. + </p> + <p> + “The devil is with these women!” exclaimed du Tillet, still unconvinced by + the words of Raoul, whom he had nicknamed Charnathan. + </p> + <p> + “What are you talking about?” said Raoul. + </p> + <p> + “My sister-in-law is there with my wife, and they are hatching something + together. You seem in high favor with the Countess; she is bowing to you + right across the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Look,” said Mme. du Tillet to her sister, “they told us wrong. See how my + husband fawns on M. Nathan, and it is he who they declared was trying to + get him put in prison!” + </p> + <p> + “And men call us slanderers!” cried the Countess. “I will give him a + warning.” + </p> + <p> + She rose, took the arm of Vandenesse, who was waiting in the passage, and + returned jubilant to her box; by and by she left the Opera and ordered her + carriage for the next morning before eight o’clock. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, by half-past eight, Marie had driven to the quai Conti, + stopping at the hotel du Mail on her way. The carriage could not enter the + narrow rue de Nevers; but as Schmucke lived in a house at the corner of + the quai she was not obliged to walk up its muddy pavement, but could jump + from the step of her carriage to the broken step of the dismal old house, + mended like porter’s crockery, with iron rivets, and bulging out over the + street in a way that was quite alarming to pedestrians. The old + chapel-master lived on the fourth floor, and enjoyed a fine view of the + Seine from the pont Neuf to the heights of Chaillot. + </p> + <p> + The good soul was so surprised when the countess’s footman announced the + visit of his former scholar that in his stupefaction he let her enter + without going down to receive her. Never did the countess suspect or + imagine such an existence as that which suddenly revealed itself to her + eyes, though she had long known Schmucke’s contempt for dress, and the + little interest he held in the affairs of this world. But who could have + believed in such complete indifference, in the utter laisser-aller of such + a life? Schmucke was a musical Diogenes, and he felt no shame whatever in + his untidiness; in fact, he was so accustomed to it that he would probably + have denied its existence. The incessant smoking of a stout German pipe + had spread upon the ceiling and over a wretched wall-paper, scratched and + defaced by the cat, a yellowish tinge. The cat, a magnificently + long-furred, fluffy animal, the envy of all portresses, presided there + like the mistress of the house, grave and sedate, and without anxieties. + On the top of an excellent Viennese piano he sat majestically, and cast + upon the countess, as she entered, that coldly gracious look which a + woman, surprised by the beauty of another woman, might have given. He did + not move, and merely waved the two silver threads of his right whisker as + he turned his golden eyes on Schmucke. + </p> + <p> + The piano, decrepit on its legs, though made of good wood painted black + and gilded, was dirty, defaced, and scratched; and its keys, worn like the + teeth of old horses, were yellowed with the fuliginous colors of the pipe. + On the desk, a little heap of ashes showed that the night before Schmucke + had bestrode the old instrument to some musical Walhalla. The floor, + covered with dried mud, torn papers, tobacco-dust, fragments + indescribable, was like that of a boy’s school-room, unswept for a week, + on which a mound of things accumulate, half rags, half filth. + </p> + <p> + A more practised eye than that of the countess would have seen certain + other revelations of Schmucke’s mode of life,—chestnut-peels, + apple-parings, egg-shells dyed red in broken dishes smeared with + sauer-kraut. This German detritus formed a carpet of dusty filth which + crackled under foot, joining company near the hearth with a mass of + cinders and ashes descending majestically from the fireplace, where lay a + block of coal, before which two slender twigs made a show of burning. On + the chimney-piece was a mirror in a painted frame, adorned with figures + dancing a saraband; on one side hung the glorious pipe, on the other was a + Chinese jar in which the musician kept his tobacco. Two arm-chairs bought + at auction, a thin and rickety cot, a worm-eaten bureau without a top, a + maimed table on which lay the remains of a frugal breakfast, made up a set + of household belongings as plain as those of an Indian wigwam. A + shaving-glass, suspended to the fastening of a curtainless window, and + surmounted by a rag striped by many wipings of a razor, indicated the only + sacrifices paid by Schmucke to the Graces and society. The cat, being the + feebler and protected partner, had rather the best of the establishment; + he enjoyed the comforts of an old sofa-cushion, near which could be seen a + white china cup and plate. But what no pen can describe was the state into + which Schmucke, the cat, and the pipe, that existing trinity, had reduced + these articles. The pipe had burned the table. The cat and Schmucke’s head + had greased the green Utrecht velvet of the two arm-chairs and reduced it + to a slimy texture. If it had not been for the cat’s magnificent tail, + which played a useful part in the household, the uncovered places on the + bureau and the piano would never have been dusted. In one corner of the + room were a pile of shoes which need an epic to describe them. The top of + the bureau and that of the piano were encumbered by music-books with + ragged backs and whitened corners, through which the pasteboard showed its + many layers. Along the walls the names and addresses of pupils written on + scraps of paper were stuck on by wafers,—the number of wafers + without paper indicating the number of pupils no longer taught. On the + wall-papers were many calculations written with chalk. The bureau was + decorated with beer-mugs used the night before, their newness appearing + very brilliant in the midst of this rubbish of dirt and age. Hygiene was + represented by a jug of water with a towel laid upon it, and a bit of + common soap. Two ancient hats hung to their respective nails, near which + also hung the self-same blue box-coat with three capes, in which the + countess had always seen Schmucke when he came to give his lessons. On the + window-sill were three pots of flowers, German flowers, no doubt, and near + them a stout holly-wood stick. + </p> + <p> + Though Marie’s sight and smell were disagreeably affected, Schmucke’s + smile and glance disguised these abject miseries by rays of celestial + light which actually illuminated their smoky tones and vivified the chaos. + The soul of this dear man, which saw and revealed so many things divine, + shone like the sun. His laugh, so frank, so guileless at seeing one of his + Saint-Cecilias, shed sparkles of youth and gaiety and innocence about him. + The treasures he poured from the inner to the outer were like a mantle + with which he covered his squalid life. The most supercilious parvenu + would have felt it ignoble to care for the frame in which this glorious + old apostle of the musical religion lived and moved and had his being. + </p> + <p> + “Hey! by what good luck do I see you here, dear Madame la comtesse?” he + said. “Must I sing the canticle of Simeon at my age?” (This idea so + tickled him that he laughed immoderately.) “Truly I’m ‘en bonne fortune.’” + (And again he laughed like a merry child.) “But, ah!” he said, changing to + melancholy, “you come for the music, and not for a poor old man like me. + Yes, I know that; but come for what you will, I am yours, you know, body + and soul and all I have!” + </p> + <p> + This was said in his unspeakable German accent, a rendition of which we + spare the reader. + </p> + <p> + He took the countess’s hand, kissed it and left a tear there, for the + worthy soul was always on the morrow of her benefit. Then he seized a bit + of chalk, jumped on a chair in front of the piano, and wrote upon the wall + in big letters, with the rapidity of a young man, “February 17th, 1835.” + This pretty, artless action, done in such a passion of gratitude, touched + the countess to tears. + </p> + <p> + “My sister will come too,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “The other, too! When? when? God grant it be before I die!” + </p> + <p> + “She will come to thank you for a great service I am now here to ask of + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Quick! quick! tell me what it is,” cried Schmucke. “What must I do? go to + the devil?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing more than write the words ‘Accepted for ten thousand francs,’ and + sign your name on each of these papers,” she said, taking from her muff + four notes prepared for her by Nathan. + </p> + <p> + “Hey! that’s soon done,” replied the German, with the docility of a lamb; + “only I’m sure I don’t know where my pens and ink are—Get away from + there, Meinherr Mirr!” he cried to the cat, which looked composedly at + him. “That’s my cat,” he said, showing him to the countess. “That’s the + poor animal that lives with poor Schmucke. Hasn’t he fine fur?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the countess. + </p> + <p> + “Will you have him?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “How can you think of such a thing?” she answered. “Why, he’s your + friend!” + </p> + <p> + The cat, who hid the inkstand behind him, divined that Schmucke wanted it, + and jumped to the bed. + </p> + <p> + “He’s as mischievous as a monkey,” said Schmucke. “I call him Mirr in + honor of our great Hoffman of Berlin, whom I knew well.” + </p> + <p> + The good man signed the papers with the innocence of a child who does what + his mother orders without question, so sure is he that all is right. He + was thinking much more of presenting the cat to the countess than of the + papers by which his liberty might be, according to the laws relating to + foreigners, forever sacrificed. + </p> + <p> + “You assure me that these little papers with the stamps on them—” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be in the least uneasy,” said the countess. + </p> + <p> + “I am not uneasy,” he said, hastily. “I only meant to ask if these little + papers will give pleasure to Madame du Tillet.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” she said, “you are doing her a service, as if you were her + father.” + </p> + <p> + “I am happy, indeed, to be of any good to her—Come and listen to my + music!” and leaving the papers on the table, he jumped to his piano. + </p> + <p> + The hands of this angel ran along the yellowing keys, his glance was + rising to heaven, regardless of the roof; already the air of some blessed + climate permeated the room and the soul of the old musician; but the + countess did not allow the artless interpreter of things celestial to make + the strings and the worn wood speak, like Raffaelle’s Saint Cecilia, to + the listening angels. She quickly slipped the notes into her muff and + recalled her radiant master from the ethereal spheres to which he soared, + by laying her hand upon his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “My good Schmucke—” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Going already?” he cried. “Ah! why did you come?” + </p> + <p> + He did not murmur, but he sat up like a faithful dog who listens to his + mistress. + </p> + <p> + “My good Schmucke,” she repeated, “this is a matter of life and death; + minutes can save tears, perhaps blood.” + </p> + <p> + “Always the same!” he said. “Go, angel! dry the tears of others. Your poor + Schmucke thinks more of your visit than of your gifts.” + </p> + <p> + “But we must see each other often,” she said. “You must come and dine and + play to me every Sunday, or we shall quarrel. Remember, I shall expect you + next Sunday.” + </p> + <p> + “Really and truly?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I entreat you; and my sister will want you, too, for another day.” + </p> + <p> + “Then my happiness will be complete,” he said; “for I only see you now in + the Champs Elysees as you pass in your carriage, and that is very seldom.” + </p> + <p> + This thought dried the tears in his eyes as he gave his arm to his + beautiful pupil, who felt the old man’s heart beat violently. + </p> + <p> + “You think of us?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Always as I eat my food,” he answered,—“as my benefactresses; but + chiefly as the first young girls worthy of love whom I ever knew.” + </p> + <p> + So respectful, faithful, and religious a solemnity was in this speech that + the countess dared say no more. That smoky chamber, full of dirt and + rubbish, was the temple of the two divinities. + </p> + <p> + “There we are loved—and truly loved,” she thought. + </p> + <p> + The emotion with which old Schmucke saw the countess get into her carriage + and leave him she fully shared, and she sent him from the tips of her + fingers one of those pretty kisses which women give each other from afar. + Receiving it, the old man stood planted on his feet for a long time after + the carriage had disappeared. + </p> + <p> + A few moments later the countess entered the court-yard of the hotel de + Nucingen. Madame de Nucingen was not yet up; but anxious not to keep a + woman of the countess’s position waiting, she hastily threw on a shawl and + wrapper. + </p> + <p> + “My visit concerns a charitable action, madame,” said the countess, “or I + would not disturb you at so early an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “But I am only too happy to be disturbed,” said the banker’s wife, taking + the notes and the countess’s guarantee. She rang for her maid. + </p> + <p> + “Therese,” she said, “tell the cashier to bring me up himself, + immediately, forty thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + Then she locked into a table drawer the guarantee given by Madame de + Vandenesse, after sealing it up. + </p> + <p> + “You have a delightful room,” said the countess. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but Monsieur de Nucingen is going to take it from me. He is building + a new house.” + </p> + <p> + “You will doubtless give this one to your daughter, who, I am told, is to + marry Monsieur de Rastignac.” + </p> + <p> + The cashier appeared at this moment with the money. Madame de Nucingen + took the bank-bills and gave him the notes of hand. + </p> + <p> + “That balances,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Except the discount,” replied the cashier. “Ha, Schmucke; that’s the + musician of Anspach,” he added, examining the signatures in a suspicious + manner that made the countess tremble. + </p> + <p> + “Who is doing this business?” said Madame de Nucingen, with a haughty + glance at the cashier. “This is my affair.” + </p> + <p> + The cashier looked alternately at the two ladies, but he could discover + nothing on their impenetrable faces. + </p> + <p> + “Go, leave us—Have the kindness to wait a few moments that the + people in the bank may not connect you with this negotiation,” said Madame + de Nucingen to the countess. + </p> + <p> + “I must ask you to add to all your other kindness that of keeping this + matter secret,” said Madame de Vandenesse. + </p> + <p> + “Most assuredly, since it is for charity,” replied the baroness, smiling. + “I will send your carriage round to the garden gate, so that no one will + see you leave the house.” + </p> + <p> + “You have the thoughtful grace of a person who has suffered,” said the + countess. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know if I have grace,” said the baroness; “but I have suffered + much. I hope that your anxieties cost less than mine.” + </p> + <p> + When a man has laid a plot like that du Tillet was scheming against + Nathan, he confides it to no man. Nucingen knew something of it, but his + wife knew nothing. The baroness, however, aware that Raoul was + embarrassed, was not the dupe of the two sisters; she guessed into whose + hands that money was to go, and she was delighted to oblige the countess; + moreover, she felt a deep compassion for all such embarrassments. + Rastignac, so placed that he was able to fathom the manoeuvres of the two + bankers, came to breakfast that morning with Madame de Nucingen. + </p> + <p> + Delphine and Rastignac had no secrets from each other; and the baroness + related to him her scene with the countess. Eugene, who had never supposed + that Delphine could be mixed up in the affair, which was only accessory to + his eyes,—one means among many others,—opened her eyes to the + truth. She had probably, he told her, destroyed du Tillet’s chances of + selection, and rendered useless the intrigues and deceptions of the past + year. In short, he put her in the secret of the whole affair, advising her + to keep absolute silence as to the mistake she had just committed. + </p> + <p> + “Provided the cashier does not tell Nucingen,” she said. + </p> + <p> + A few moments after mid-day, while du Tillet was breakfasting, Monsieur + Gigonnet was announced. + </p> + <p> + “Let him come in,” said the banker, though his wife was at table. “Well, + my old Shylock, is our man locked up?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? Didn’t I give you the address, rue du Mail, hotel—” + </p> + <p> + “He has paid up,” said Gigonnet, drawing from his wallet a pile of + bank-bills. Du Tillet looked furious. “You should never frown at money,” + said his impassible associate; “it brings ill-luck.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did you get that money, madame?” said du Tillet, suddenly turning + upon his wife with a look which made her color to the roots of her hair. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what your question means,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I will fathom this mystery,” he cried, springing furiously up. “You have + upset my most cherished plans.” + </p> + <p> + “You are upsetting your breakfast,” said Gigonnet, arresting the + table-clock, which was dragged by the skirt of du Tillet’s dressing-gown. + </p> + <p> + Madame du Tillet rose to leave the room, for her husband’s words alarmed + her. She rang the bell, and a footman entered. + </p> + <p> + “The carriage,” she said. “And call Virginie; I wish to dress.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” exclaimed du Tillet. + </p> + <p> + “Well-bred husbands do not question their wives,” she answered. “I believe + that you lay claim to be a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t recognize you ever since you have seen more of your impertinent + sister.” + </p> + <p> + “You ordered me to be impertinent, and I am practising on you,” she + replied. + </p> + <p> + “Your servant, madame,” said Gigonnet, taking leave, not anxious to + witness this family scene. + </p> + <p> + Du Tillet looked fixedly at his wife, who returned the look without + lowering her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What does all this mean?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “It means that I am no longer a little girl whom you can frighten,” she + replied. “I am, and shall be, all my life, a good and loyal wife to you; + you may be my master if you choose, my tyrant, never!” + </p> + <p> + Du Tillet left the room. After this effort Marie-Eugenie broke down. + </p> + <p> + “If it were not for my sister’s danger,” she said to herself, “I should + never have dared to brave him thus; but, as the proverb says, ‘There’s + some good in every evil.’” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. THE HUSBAND’S TRIUMPH + </h2> + <p> + During the preceding night Madame du Tillet had gone over in her mind her + sister’s revelations. Sure, now, of Nathan’s safety, she was no longer + influenced by the thought of an imminent danger in that direction. But she + remembered the vehement energy with which the countess had declared that + she would fly with Nathan if that would save him. She saw that the man + might determine her sister in some paroxysm of gratitude and love to take + a step which was nothing short of madness. There were recent examples in + the highest society of just such flights which paid for doubtful pleasures + by lasting remorse and the disrepute of a false position. Du Tillet’s + speech brought her fears to a point; she dreaded lest all should be + discovered; she knew her sister’s signature was in Nucingen’s hands, and + she resolved to entreat Marie to save herself by confessing all to Felix. + </p> + <p> + She drove to her sister’s house, but Marie was not at home. Felix was + there. A voice within her cried aloud to Eugenie to save her sister; the + morrow might be too late. She took a vast responsibility upon herself, but + she resolved to tell all to the count. Surely he would be indulgent when + he knew that his honor was still safe. The countess was deluded rather + than sinful. Eugenie feared to be treacherous and base in revealing + secrets that society (agreeing on this point) holds to be inviolable; but—she + saw her sister’s future, she trembled lest she should some day be + deserted, ruined by Nathan, poor, suffering, disgraced, wretched, and she + hesitated no longer; she sent in her name and asked to see the count. + </p> + <p> + Felix, astonished at the visit, had a long conversation with his + sister-in-law, in which he seemed so calm, so completely master of + himself, that she feared he might have taken some terrible resolution. + </p> + <p> + “Do not be uneasy,” he said, seeing her anxiety. “I will act in a manner + which shall make your sister bless you. However much you may dislike to + keep the fact that you have spoken to me from her knowledge, I must + entreat you to do so. I need a few days to search into mysteries which you + don’t perceive; and, above all, I must act cautiously. Perhaps I can learn + all in a day. I, alone, my dear sister, am the guilty person. All lovers + play their game, and it is not every woman who is able, unassisted, to see + life as it is.” + </p> + <p> + Madame du Tillet returned home comforted. Felix de Vandenesse drew forty + thousand francs from the Bank of France, and went direct to Madame de + Nucingen He found her at home, thanked her for the confidence she had + placed in his wife, and returned the money, explaining that the countess + had obtained this mysterious loan for her charities, which were so profuse + that he was trying to put a limit to them. + </p> + <p> + “Give me no explanations, monsieur, since Madame de Vandenesse has told + you all,” said the Baronne de Nucingen. + </p> + <p> + “She knows the truth,” thought Vandenesse. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Nucingen returned to him Marie’s letter of guarantee, and sent + to the bank for the four notes. Vandenesse, during the short time that + these arrangements kept him waiting, watched the baroness with the eye of + a statesman, and he thought the moment propitious for further negotiation. + </p> + <p> + “We live in an age, madame, when nothing is sure,” he said. “Even thrones + rise and fall in France with fearful rapidity. Fifteen years have wreaked + their will on a great empire, a monarchy, and a revolution. No one can now + dare to count upon the future. You know my attachment to the cause of + legitimacy. Suppose some catastrophe; would you not be glad to have a + friend in the conquering party?” + </p> + <p> + “Undoubtedly,” she said, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Very good; then, will you have in me, secretly, an obliged friend who + could be of use to Monsieur de Nucingen in such a case, by supporting his + claim to the peerage he is seeking?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you want of me?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Very little,” he replied. “All that you know about Nathan’s affairs.” + </p> + <p> + The baroness repeated to him her conversation with Rastignac, and said, as + she gave him the four notes, which the cashier had meantime brought to + her: + </p> + <p> + “Don’t forget your promise.” + </p> + <p> + So little did Vandenesse forget this illusive promise that he used it + again on Baron Eugene de Rastignac to obtain from him certain other + information. Leaving Rastignac’s apartments, he dictated to a street + amanuensis the following note to Florine. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “If Mademoiselle Florine wishes to know of a part she may play she + is requested to come to the masked opera at the Opera next Sunday + night, accompanied by Monsieur Nathan.” + </pre> + <p> + To this ball he determined to take his wife and let her own eyes enlighten + her as to the relations between Nathan and Florine. He knew the jealous + pride of the countess; he wanted to make her renounce her love of her own + will, without causing her to blush before him, and then to return to her + her own letters, sold by Florine, from whom he expected to be able to buy + them. This judicious plan, rapidly conceived and partly executed, might + fail through some trick of chance which meddles with all things here + below. + </p> + <p> + After dinner that evening, Felix brought the conversation round to the + masked balls of the Opera, remarking that Marie had never been to one, and + proposing that she should accompany him the following evening. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll find you some one to ‘intriguer,’” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I wish you would,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “To do the thing well, a woman ought to fasten upon some good prey, a + celebrity, a man of enough wit to give and take. There’s Nathan; will you + have him? I know, through a friend of Florine, certain secrets of his + which would drive him crazy.” + </p> + <p> + “Florine?” said the countess. “Do you mean the actress?” + </p> + <p> + Marie had already heard that name from the lips of the watchman Quillet; + it now shot like a flash of lightning through her soul. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, his mistress,” replied the count. “What is there so surprising in + that?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought Monsieur Nathan too busy to have a mistress. Do authors have + time to make love?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t say they love, my dear, but they are forced to <i>lodge</i> + somewhere, like other men, and when they haven’t a home of their own they + <i>lodge</i> with their mistresses; which may seem to you rather loose, + but it is far more agreeable than lodging in a prison.” + </p> + <p> + Fire was less red than Marie’s cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Will you have him for a victim? I can help you to terrify him,” continued + the count, not looking at his wife’s face. “I’ll put you in the way of + proving to him that he is being tricked like a child by your + brother-in-law du Tillet. That wretch is trying to put Nathan in prison so + as to make him ineligible to stand against him in the electoral college. I + know, through a friend of Florine, the exact sum derived from the sale of + her furniture, which she gave to Nathan to found his newspaper; I know, + too, what she sent him out of her summer’s harvest in the departments and + in Belgium,—money which has really gone to the profit of du Tillet, + Nucingen, and Massol. All three of them, unknown to Nathan, have privately + sold the paper to the new ministry, so sure are they of ejecting him.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Nathan is incapable of accepting money from an actress.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know that class of people, my dear,” said the count. “He would + not deny the fact if you asked him.” + </p> + <p> + “I will certainly go to the ball,” said the countess. + </p> + <p> + “You will be very much amused,” replied Vandenesse. “With such weapons in + hand you can cut Nathan’s complacency to the quick, and you will also do + him a great service. You will put him in a fury; he’ll try to be calm, + though inwardly fuming; but, all the same, you will enlighten a man of + talent as to the peril in which he really stands; and you will also have + the satisfaction of laming the horses of the ‘juste-milieu’ in their + stalls—But you are not listening to me, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, I am listening intently,” she said. “I will tell you + later why I feel desirous to know the truth of all this.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall know it,” said Vandenesse. “If you stay masked I will take you + to supper with Nathan and Florine; it would be rather amusing for a woman + of your rank to fool an actress after bewildering the wits of a clever man + about these important facts; you can harness them both to the same hoax. + I’ll make some inquiries about Nathan’s infidelities, and if I discover + any of his recent adventures you shall enjoy the sight of a courtesan’s + fury; it is magnificent. Florine will boil and foam like an Alpine + torrent; she adores Nathan; he is everything to her; she clings to him + like flesh to the bones or a lioness to her cubs. I remember seeing, in my + youth, a celebrated actress (who wrote like a scullion) when she came to a + friend of mine to demand her letters. I have never seen such a sight + again, such calm fury, such insolent majesty, such savage self-control—Are + you ill, Marie?” + </p> + <p> + “No; they have made too much fire.” The countess turned away and threw + herself on a sofa. Suddenly, with an unforeseen movement, impelled by the + horrible anguish of her jealousy, she rose on her trembling legs, crossed + her arms, and came slowly to her husband. + </p> + <p> + “What do you know?” she asked. “You are not a man to torture me; you would + crush me without making me suffer if I were guilty.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you expect me to know, Marie?” + </p> + <p> + “Well! about Nathan.” + </p> + <p> + “You think you love him,” he replied; “but you love a phantom made of + words.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you know—” + </p> + <p> + “All,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The word fell on Marie’s head like the blow of a club. + </p> + <p> + “If you wish it, I will know nothing,” he continued. “You are standing on + the brink of a precipice, my child, and I must draw you from it. I have + already done something. See!” + </p> + <p> + He drew from his pocket her letter of guarantee and the four notes + endorsed by Schmucke, and let the countess recognize them; then he threw + them into the fire. + </p> + <p> + “What would have happened to you, my poor Marie, three months hence?” he + said. “The sheriffs would have taken you to a public court-room. Don’t bow + your head, don’t feel humiliated; you have been the dupe of noble + feelings; you have coquetted with poesy, not with a man. All women—all, + do you hear me, Marie?—would have been seduced in your position. How + absurd we should be, we men, we who have committed a thousand follies + through a score of years, if we were not willing to grant you one + imprudence in a lifetime! God keep me from triumphing over you or from + offering you a pity you repelled so vehemently the other day. Perhaps that + unfortunate man was sincere when he wrote to you, sincere in attempting to + kill himself, sincere in returning that same night to Florine. Men are + worth less than women. It is not for my own sake that I speak at this + moment, but for yours. I am indulgent, but the world is not; it shuns a + woman who makes a scandal. Is that just? I know not; but this I know, the + world is cruel. Society refuses to calm the woes itself has caused; it + gives its honors to those who best deceive it; it has no recompense for + rash devotion. I see and know all that. I can’t reform society, but this I + can do, I can protect you, Marie, against yourself. This matter concerns a + man who has brought you trouble only, and not one of those high and sacred + loves which do, at times, command our abnegation, and even bear their own + excuse. Perhaps I have been wrong in not varying your happiness, in not + providing you with gayer pleasures, travel, amusements, distractions for + the mind. Besides, I can explain to myself the impulse that has driven you + to a celebrated man, by the jealous envy you have roused in certain women. + Lady Dudley, Madame d’Espard, and my sister-in-law Emilie count for + something in all this. Those women, against whom I ought to have put you + more thoroughly on your guard, have cultivated your curiosity more to + trouble me and cause me unhappiness, than to fling you into a whirlpool + which, as I believe, you would never have entered.” + </p> + <p> + As she listened to these words, so full of kindness, the countess was torn + by many conflicting feelings; but the storm within her breast was ruled by + one of them,—a keen admiration for her husband. Proud and noble + souls are prompt to recognize the delicacy with which they are treated. + Tact is to sentiments what grace is to the body. Marie appreciated the + grandeur of the man who bowed before a woman in fault, that he might not + see her blush. She ran from the room like one beside herself, but + instantly returned, fearing lest her hasty action might cause him + uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” she said, and disappeared again. + </p> + <p> + Felix had ably prepared her excuse, and he was instantly rewarded for his + generosity. His wife returned with Nathan’s letters in her hand, and gave + them to him. + </p> + <p> + “Judge me,” she said, kneeling down beside him. + </p> + <p> + “Are we able to judge where we love?” he answered, throwing the letters + into the fire; for he felt that later his wife might not forgive him for + having read them. Marie, with her head upon his knee, burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “My child,” he said, raising her head, “where are your letters?” + </p> + <p> + At this question the poor woman no longer felt the intolerable burning of + her cheeks; she turned cold. + </p> + <p> + “That you may not suspect me of calumniating a man whom you think worthy + of you, I will make Florine herself return you those letters.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Surely he would give them back to me himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose that he refused to do so?” + </p> + <p> + The countess dropped her head. + </p> + <p> + “The world disgusts me,” she said. “I don’t want to enter it again. I want + to live alone with you, if you forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + “But you might get bored again. Besides, what would the world say if you + left it so abruptly? In the spring we will travel; we will go to Italy, + and all over Europe; you shall see life. But to-morrow night we must go to + the Opera-ball; there is no other way to get those letters without + compromising you; besides, by giving them up, Florine will prove to you + her power.” + </p> + <p> + “And must I see that?” said the countess, frightened. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow night.” + </p> + <p> + The next evening, about midnight, Nathan was walking about the foyer of + the Opera with a mask on his arm, to whom he was attending in a + sufficiently conjugal manner. Presently two masked women came up to him. + </p> + <p> + “You poor fool! Marie is here and is watching you,” said one of them, who + was Vandenesse, disguised as a woman. + </p> + <p> + “If you choose to listen to me I will tell you secrets that Nathan is + hiding from you,” said the other woman, who was the countess, to Florine. + </p> + <p> + Nathan had abruptly dropped Florine’s arm to follow the count, who + adroitly slipped into the crowd and was out of sight in a moment. Florine + followed the countess, who sat down on a seat close at hand, to which the + count, doubling on Nathan, returned almost immediately to guard his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Explain yourself, my dear,” said Florine, “and don’t think I shall stand + this long. No one can tear Raoul from me, I’ll tell you that; I hold him + by habit, and that’s even stronger than love.” + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, are you Florine?” said the count, speaking in his + natural voice. + </p> + <p> + “A pretty question! if you don’t know that, my joking friend, why should I + believe you?” + </p> + <p> + “Go and ask Nathan, who has left you to look for his other mistress, where + he passed the night, three days ago. He tried to kill himself without a + word to you, my dear,—and all for want of money. That shows how much + you know about the affairs of a man whom you say you love, and who leaves + you without a penny, and kills himself,—or, rather, doesn’t kill + himself, for he misses it. Suicides that don’t kill are about as absurd + as a duel without a scratch.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a lie,” said Florine. “He dined with me that very day. The poor + fellow had the sheriff after him; he was hiding, as well he might.” + </p> + <p> + “Go and ask at the hotel du Mail, rue du Mail, if he was not taken there + that morning, half dead of the fumes of charcoal, by a handsome young + woman with whom he has been in love over a year. Her letters are at this + moment under your very nose in your own house. If you want to teach Nathan + a good lesson, let us all three go there; and I’ll show you, papers in + hand, how you can save him from the sheriff and Clichy if you choose to be + the good girl that you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Try that on others than Florine, my little man. I am certain that Nathan + has never been in love with any one but me.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, he has been in love with a woman in society for over a + year—” + </p> + <p> + “A woman in society, he!” cried Florine. “I don’t trouble myself about + such nonsense as that.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, do you want me to make him come and tell you that he will not take + you home from here to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “If you can make him tell me that,” said Florine, “I’ll take <i>you</i> + home, and we’ll look for those letters, which I shall believe in when I + see them, and not till then. He must have written them while I slept.” + </p> + <p> + “Stay here,” said Felix, “and watch.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, he took the arm of his wife and moved to a little distance. + Presently, Nathan, who had been hunting up and down the foyer like a dog + looking for its master, returned to the spot where the mask had addressed + him. Seeing on his face an expression he could not conceal, Florine placed + herself like a post in front of him, and said, imperiously:— + </p> + <p> + “I don’t wish you to leave me again; I have my reasons for this.” + </p> + <p> + The countess then, at the instigation of her husband, went up to Raoul and + said in his ear,— + </p> + <p> + “Marie. Who is this woman? Leave her at once, and meet me at the foot of + the grand staircase.” + </p> + <p> + In this difficult extremity Raoul dropped Florine’s arm, and though she + caught his own and held it forcibly, she was obliged, after a moment, to + let him go. Nathan disappeared into the crowd. + </p> + <p> + “What did I tell you?” said Felix in Florine’s astonished ears, offering + her his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” she said; “whoever you are, come. Have you a carriage here?” + </p> + <p> + For all answer, Vandenesse hurried Florine away, followed by his wife. A + few moments later the three masks, driven rapidly by the Vandenesse + coachman, reached Florine’s house. As soon as she had entered her own + apartments the actress unmasked. Madame de Vandenesse could not restrain a + quiver of surprise at Florine’s beauty as she stood there choking with + anger, and superb in her wrath and jealousy. + </p> + <p> + “There is, somewhere in these rooms,” said Vandenesse, “a portfolio, the + key of which you have never had; the letters are probably in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, for once in my life I am bewildered; you know something that + I have been uneasy about for some days,” cried Florine, rushing into the + study in search of the portfolio. + </p> + <p> + Vandenesse saw that his wife was turning pale beneath her mask. Florine’s + apartment revealed more about the intimacy of the actress and Nathan than + any ideal mistress would wish to know. The eye of a woman can take in the + truth of such things in a second, and the countess saw vestiges of Nathan + which proved to her the certainty of what Vandenesse had said. Florine + returned with the portfolio. + </p> + <p> + “How am I to open it?” she said. + </p> + <p> + The actress rang the bell and sent into the kitchen for the cook’s knife. + When it came she brandished it in the air, crying out in ironical tones:— + </p> + <p> + “With this they cut the necks of ‘poulets.’” + </p> + <p> + The words, which made the countess shiver, explained to her, even better + than her husband had done the night before, the depths of the abyss into + which she had so nearly fallen. + </p> + <p> + “What a fool I am!” said Florine; “his razor will do better.” + </p> + <p> + She fetched one of Nathan’s razors from his dressing-table, and slit the + leather cover of the portfolio, through which Marie’s letters dropped. + Florine snatched one up hap-hazard, and looked it over. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she must be a well-bred woman. It looks to me as if there were no + mistakes in spelling here.” + </p> + <p> + The count gathered up the letters hastily and gave them to his wife, who + took them to a table as if to see that they were all there. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Vandenesse to Florine, “will you let me have those letters for + these?” showing her five bank-bills of ten thousand francs each. “They’ll + replace the sums you have paid for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried Florine, “didn’t I kill myself body and soul in the provinces + to get him money,—I, who’d have cut my hand off to serve him? But + that’s men! damn your soul for them and they’ll march over you rough-shod! + He shall pay me for this!” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Vandenesse was disappearing with the letters. + </p> + <p> + “Hi! stop, stop, my fine mask!” cried Florine; “leave me one to confound + him with.” + </p> + <p> + “Not possible,” said Vandenesse. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “That mask is your ex-rival; but you needn’t fear her now.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she might have had the grace to say thank you,” cried Florine. + </p> + <p> + “But you have the fifty thousand francs instead,” said Vandenesse, bowing + to her. + </p> + <p> + It is extremely rare for young men, when driven to suicide, to attempt it + a second time if the first fails. When it doesn’t cure life, it cures all + desire for voluntary death. Raoul felt no disposition to try it again when + he found himself in a more painful position than that from which he had + just been rescued. He tried to see the countess and explain to her the + nature of his love, which now shone more vividly in his soul than ever. + But the first time they met in society, Madame de Vandenesse gave him that + fixed and contemptuous look which at once and forever puts an impassable + gulf between a man and a woman. In spite of his natural assurance, Nathan + never dared, during the rest of the winter, either to speak to the + countess or even approach her. + </p> + <p> + But he opened his heart to Blondet; to him he talked of his Laura and his + Beatrice, apropos of Madame de Vandenesse. He even made a paraphrase of + the following beautiful passage from the pen of Theophile Gautier, one of + the most remarkable poets of our day:— + </p> + <p> + “‘Ideala, flower of heaven’s own blue, with heart of gold, whose fibrous + roots, softer, a thousandfold, than fairy tresses, strike to our souls and + drink their purest essence; flower most sweet and bitter! thou canst not + be torn away without the heart’s blood flowing, without thy bruised stems + sweating with scarlet tears. Ah! cursed flower, why didst thou grow within + my soul?’” + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow,” said Blondet, “you are raving. I’ll grant it was a + pretty flower, but it wasn’t a bit ideal, and instead of singing like a + blind man before an empty niche, you had much better wash your hands and + make submission to the powers. You are too much of an artist ever to be a + good politician; you have been fooled by men of not one-half your value. + Think about being fooled again—but elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Marie cannot prevent my loving her,” said Nathan; “she shall be my + Beatrice.” + </p> + <p> + “Beatrice, my good Raoul, was a little girl twelve years of age when Dante + last saw her; otherwise, she would not have been Beatrice. To make a + divinity, it won’t do to see her one day wrapped in a mantle, and the next + with a low dress, and the third on the boulevard, cheapening toys for her + last baby. When a man has Florine, who is in turn duchess, bourgeoise, + Negress, marquise, colonel, Swiss peasant, virgin of the sun in Peru (only + way she can play the part), I don’t see why he should go rambling after + fashionable women.” + </p> + <p> + Du Tillet, to use a Bourse term, <i>executed</i> Nathan, who, for lack of + money, gave up his place on the newspaper; and the celebrated man received + but five votes in the electoral college where the banker was elected. + </p> + <p> + When, after a long and happy journey in Italy, the Comtesse de Vandenesse + returned to Paris late in the following winter, all her husband’s + predictions about Nathan were justified. He had taken Blondet’s advice and + negotiated with the government, which employed his pen. His personal + affairs were in such disorder that one day, on the Champs-Elysees, Marie + saw her former adorer on foot, in shabby clothes, giving his arm to + Florine. When a man becomes indifferent to the heart of a woman who has + once loved him, he often seems to her very ugly, even horrible, especially + when he resembles Nathan. Madame de Vandenesse had a sense of personal + humiliation in the thought that she had once cared for him. If she had not + already been cured of all extra-conjugal passion, the contrast then + presented by the count to this man, grown less and less worthy of public + favor, would have sufficed her. + </p> + <p> + To-day the ambitious Nathan, rich in ink and poor in will, has ended by + capitulating entirely, and has settled down into a sinecure, like any + other commonplace man. After lending his pen to all disorganizing efforts, + he now lives in peace under the protecting shade of a ministerial organ. + The cross of the Legion of honor, formerly the fruitful text of his + satire, adorns his button-hole. “Peace at any price,” ridicule of which + was the stock-in-trade of his revolutionary editorship, is now the topic + of his laudatory articles. Heredity, attacked by him in Saint-Simonian + phrases, he now defends with solid arguments. This illogical conduct has + its origin and its explanation in the change of front performed by many + men besides Raoul during our recent political evolutions. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + ADDENDUM + </h2> + <h3> + The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bidault (known as Gigonnet) + The Government Clerks + Gobseck + The Vendetta + Cesar Birotteau + The Firm of Nucingen + + Blondet, Emile + Jealousies of a Country Town + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + Modeste Mignon + Another Study of Woman + The Secrets of a Princess + The Firm of Nucingen + The Peasantry + + Blondet, Virginie + Jealousies of a Country Town + The Secrets of a Princess + The Peasantry + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Another Study of Woman + The Member for Arcis + + Bruel, Jean Francois du + A Bachelor’s Establishment + The Government Clerks + A Start in Life + A Prince of Bohemia + The Middle Classes + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + + Camps, Madame Octave de + Madame Firmiani + The Government Clerks + A Woman of Thirty + The Member for Arcis + + Dudley, Lord + The Lily of the Valley + The Thirteen + A Man of Business + Another Study of Woman + + Dudley, Lady Arabella + The Lily of the Valley + The Ball at Sceaux + The Magic Skin + The Secrets of a Princess + Letters of Two Brides + + Espard, Jeanne-Clementine-Athenais de Blamont-Chauvry, Marquise d’ + The Commission in Lunacy + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + Letters of Two Brides + Another Study of Woman + The Gondreville Mystery + The Secrets of a Princess + Beatrix + + Galathionne, Prince and Princess (both not in each story) + The Secrets of a Princess + The Middle Classes + Father Goriot + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Beatrix + + Grandlieu, Duchesse Ferdinand de + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + Beatrix + + Grandlieu, Vicomtesse Juste de + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + Gobseck + + Granville, Vicomte de + The Gondreville Mystery + A Second Home + Farewell (Adieu) + Cesar Birotteau + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + Cousin Pons + + Granville, Comtesse Angelique de + A Second Home + The Thirteen + + Granville, Vicomte de + A Second Home + The Country Parson + + La Roche-Hugon, Martial de + Domestic Peace + The Peasantry + The Member for Arcis + The Middle Classes + Cousin Betty + + Listomere, Marquise de + The Lily of the Valley + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + A Daughter of Eve + + Lousteau, Etienne + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + A Bachelor’s Establishment + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + Beatrix + The Muse of the Department + Cousin Betty + A Prince of Bohemia + A Man of Business + The Middle Classes + The Unconscious Humorists + + Manerville, Comtesse Paul de + A Marriage Settlement + The Lily of the Valley + + Marsay, Henri de + The Thirteen + The Unconscious Humorists + Another Study of Woman + The Lily of the Valley + Father Goriot + Jealousies of a Country Town + Ursule Mirouet + A Marriage Settlement + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Letters of Two Brides + The Ball at Sceaux + Modeste Mignon + The Secrets of a Princess + The Gondreville Mystery + + Massol + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + The Magic Skin + Cousin Betty + The Unconscious Humorists + + Nathan, Raoul + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + The Secrets of a Princess + Letters of Two Brides + The Seamy Side of History + The Muse of the Department + A Prince of Bohemia + A Man of Business + The Unconscious Humorists + + Nathan, Madame Raoul (Florine) + The Muse of the Department + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + The Government Clerks + A Bachelor’s Establishment + Ursule Mirouet + Eugenie Grandet + The Imaginary Mistress + A Prince of Bohemia + The Unconscious Humorists + + Nucingen, Baronne Delphine de + Father Goriot + The Thirteen + Eugenie Grandet + Cesar Birotteau + Melmoth Reconciled + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + The Commission in Lunacy + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + Modeste Mignon + The Firm of Nucingen + Another Study of Woman + The Member for Arcis + + Rastignac, Eugene de + Father Goriot + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + The Ball at Sceaux + The Commission in Lunacy + A Study of Woman + Another Study of Woman + The Magic Skin + The Secrets of a Princess + The Gondreville Mystery + The Firm of Nucingen + Cousin Betty + The Member for Arcis + The Unconscious Humorists + + Rastignac, Monseigneur Gabriel de + Father Goriot + The Country Parson + + Rochefide, Marquise de + Beatrix + The Secrets of a Princess + Sarrasine + A Prince of Bohemia + + Roguin, Madame + Cesar Birotteau + At the Sign of the Cat and Racket + Pierrette + A Second Home + + Saint-Hereen, Comtesse Moina de + A Woman of Thirty + The Member for Arcis + + Schmucke, Wilhelm + Ursule Mirouet + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + Cousin Pons + + Souchet, Francois + The Purse + The Imaginary Mistress + + Therese + Father Goriot + + Tillet, Ferdinand du + Cesar Birotteau + The Firm of Nucingen + The Middle Classes + A Bachelor’s Establishment + Pierrette + Melmoth Reconciled + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + The Secrets of a Princess + The Member for Arcis + Cousin Betty + The Unconscious Humorists + + Touches, Mademoiselle Felicite des + Beatrix + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + A Bachelor’s Establishment + Another Study of Woman + Honorine + Beatrix + The Muse of the Department + + Vandenesse, Marquis Charles de + A Woman of Thirty + A Start in Life + + Vandenesse, Marquise Charles de + Cesar Birotteau + The Ball at Sceaux + Ursule Mirouet + A Daughter of Eve + + Vandenesse, Comte Felix de + The Lily of the Valley + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Cesar Birotteau + Letters of Two Brides + A Start in Life + The Marriage Settlement + The Secrets of a Princess + Another Study of Woman + The Gondreville Mystery + + Vandenesse, Comtesse Felix de + A Second Home + The Muse of the Department + + Vernou, Felicien + A Bachelor’s Establishment + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + Cousin Betty + + Vignon, Claude + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Honorine + Beatrix + Cousin Betty + The Unconscious Humorists +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1481 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |