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diff --git a/old/nswmn10h.htm b/old/nswmn10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..93d1094 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/nswmn10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3226 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 3.2//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Another Study of Woman, by +Balzac</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= +"text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> +</head> + +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook of +<br>Another Study of Woman,<br> + by Honoré de Balzac<br> +<br> +</h1> + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Another Study of Woman, by Honore de Balzac +#62 in our series by Honore de Balzac + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Another Study of Woman + +Author: Honore de Balzac + +Release Date: April 1999 [EBook #1714] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on February 24, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: Latin-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANOTHER STUDY OF WOMAN *** + + + + +Etext prepared by Dagny, dagnyj@hotmail.com and +John Bickers, jbickers@templar.actrix.gen.nz + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<p>ANOTHER STUDY OF WOMAN</p> + +<p>by HONORE DE BALZAC</p> + +<p><br> + Translated By<br> + Ellen Marriage and Clara Bell</p> + +<p>DEDICATION</p> + +<p>To Leon Gozlan as a Token of Literary Good-fellowship.</p> + +<h2><br> + ANOTHER STUDY OF WOMAN</h2> + +<p><br> + At Paris there are almost always two separate parties going on +at<br> + every ball and rout. First, an official party, composed of the +persons<br> + invited, a fashionable and much-bored circle. Each one grimaces +for<br> + his neighbor's eye; most of the younger women are there for one +person<br> + only; when each woman has assured herself that for that one she +is the<br> + handsomest woman in the room, and that the opinion is perhaps +shared<br> + by a few others, a few insignificant phrases are exchanged, as: +"Do<br> + you think of going away soon to La Crampade?" "How well Madame +de<br> + Portenduere sang!" "Who is that little woman with such a load +of<br> + diamonds?" Or, after firing off some smart epigrams, which +give<br> + transient pleasure, and leave wounds that rankle long, the +groups thin<br> + out, the mere lookers on go away, and the waxlights burn down to +the<br> + sconces.</p> + +<p><br> + The mistress of the house then waylays a few artists, amusing +people<br> + or intimate friends, saying, "Do not go yet; we will have a +snug<br> + little supper." These collect in some small room. The second, +the real<br> + party, now begins; a party where, as of old, every one can hear +what<br> + is said, conversation is general, each one is bound to be witty +and to<br> + contribute to the amusement of all. Everything is made to tell, +honest<br> + laughter takes the place of the gloom which in company saddens +the<br> + prettiest faces. In short, where the rout ends pleasure +begins.</p> + +<p>The Rout, a cold display of luxury, a review of self-conceits +in full<br> + dress, is one of those English inventions which tend to +<i>mechanize</i><br> + other nations. England seems bent on seeing the whole world as +dull as<br> + itself, and dull in the same way. So this second party is, in +some<br> + French houses, a happy protest on the part of the old spirit of +our<br> + light-hearted people. Only, unfortunately, so few houses +protest; and<br> + the reason is a simple one. If we no longer have many +suppers<br> + nowadays, it is because never, under any rule, have there been +fewer<br> + men placed, established, and successful than under the reign of +Louis<br> + Philippe, when the Revolution began again, lawfully. Everybody +is on<br> + the march some whither, or trotting at the heels of Fortune. +Time has<br> + become the costliest commodity, so no one can afford the +lavish<br> + extravagance of going home to-morrow morning and getting up +late.<br> + Hence, there is no second soiree now but at the houses of women +rich<br> + enough to entertain, and since July 1830 such women may be +counted in<br> + Paris.</p> + +<p>In spite of the covert opposition of the Faubourg +Saint-Germain, two<br> + or three women, among them Madame d'Espard and Mademoiselle +des<br> + Touches, have not chosen to give up the share of influence +they<br> + exercised in Paris, and have not closed their houses.</p> + +<p>The salon of Mademoiselle des Touches is noted in Paris as +being the<br> + last refuge where the old French wit has found a home, with +its<br> + reserved depths, its myriad subtle byways, and its exquisite<br> + politeness. You will there still find grace of manner +notwithstanding<br> + the conventionalities of courtesy, perfect freedom of talk<br> + notwithstanding the reserve which is natural to persons of +breeding,<br> + and, above all, a liberal flow of ideas. No one there thinks +of<br> + keeping his thought for a play; and no one regards a story as +material<br> + for a book. In short, the hideous skeleton of literature at bay +never<br> + stalks there, on the prowl for a clever sally or an +interesting<br> + subject.</p> + +<p><br> + The memory of one of these evenings especially dwells with me, +less by<br> + reason of a confidence in which the illustrious de Marsay opened +up<br> + one of the deepest recesses of woman's heart, than on account of +the<br> + reflections to which his narrative gave rise, as to the changes +that<br> + have taken place in the French woman since the fateful +revolution of<br> + July.</p> + +<p>On that evening chance had brought together several persons, +whose<br> + indisputable merits have won them European reputations. This is +not a<br> + piece of flattery addressed to France, for there were a good +many<br> + foreigners present. And, indeed, the men who most shone were not +the<br> + most famous. Ingenious repartee, acute remarks, admirable +banter,<br> + pictures sketched with brilliant precision, all sparkled and +flowed<br> + without elaboration, were poured out without disdain, but +without<br> + effort, and were exquisitely expressed and delicately +appreciated. The<br> + men of the world especially were conspicuous for their really +artistic<br> + grace and spirit.</p> + +<p>Elsewhere in Europe you will find elegant manners, cordiality, +genial<br> + fellowship, and knowledge; but only in Paris, in this +drawing-room,<br> + and those to which I have alluded, does the particular wit +abound<br> + which gives an agreeable and changeful unity to all these +social<br> + qualities, an indescribable river-like flow which makes this +profusion<br> + of ideas, of definitions, of anecdotes, of historical +incidents,<br> + meander with ease. Paris, the capital of taste, alone possesses +the<br> + science which makes conversation a tourney in which each type of +wit<br> + is condensed into a shaft, each speaker utters his phrase and +casts<br> + his experience in a word, in which every one finds +amusement,<br> + relaxation, and exercise. Here, then, alone, will you exchange +ideas;<br> + here you need not, like the dolphin in the fable, carry a monkey +on<br> + your shoulders; here you will be understood, and will not risk +staking<br> + your gold pieces against base metal.</p> + +<p>Here, again, secrets neatly betrayed, and talk, light or deep, +play<br> + and eddy, changing their aspect and hue at every phrase. +Eager<br> + criticism and crisp anecdotes lead on from one to the next. All +eyes<br> + are listening, a gesture asks a question, and an expressive look +gives<br> + the answer. In short, and in a word, everything is wit and +mind.</p> + +<p>The phenomenon of speech, which, when duly studied and well +handled,<br> + is the power of the actor and the story-teller, had never so<br> + completely bewitched me. Nor was I alone under the influence of +its<br> + spell; we all spent a delightful evening. The conversation had +drifted<br> + into anecdote, and brought out in its rushing course some +curious<br> + confessions, several portraits, and a thousand follies, which +make<br> + this enchanting improvisation impossible to record; still, by +setting<br> + these things down in all their natural freshness and abruptness, +their<br> + elusive divarications, you may perhaps feel the charm of a real +French<br> + evening, taken at the moment when the most engaging familiarity +makes<br> + each one forget his own interests, his personal conceit, or, if +you<br> + like, his pretensions.</p> + +<p>At about two in the morning, as supper ended, no one was left +sitting<br> + round the table but intimate friends, proved by intercourse of +fifteen<br> + years, and some persons of great taste and good breeding, who +knew the<br> + world. By tacit agreement, perfectly carried out, at supper +every one<br> + renounced his pretensions to importance. Perfect equality set +the<br> + tone. But indeed there was no one present who was not very proud +of<br> + being himself.</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle des Touches always insists on her guests +remaining at<br> + table till they leave, having frequently remarked the change +which a<br> + move produces in the spirit of a party. Between the dining-room +and<br> + the drawing-room the charm is destroyed. According to Sterne, +the<br> + ideas of an author after shaving are different from those he +had<br> + before. If Sterne is right, may it not be boldly asserted that +the<br> + frame of mind of a party at table is not the same as that of the +same<br> + persons returned to the drawing-room? The atmosphere is not +heady, the<br> + eye no longer contemplates the brilliant disorder of the +dessert, lost<br> + are the happy effects of that laxness of mood, that benevolence +which<br> + comes over us while we remain in the humor peculiar to the +well-filled<br> + man, settled comfortably on one of the springy chairs which are +made<br> + in these days. Perhaps we are not more ready to talk face to +face with<br> + the dessert and in the society of good wine, during the +delightful<br> + interval when every one may sit with an elbow on the table and +his<br> + head resting on his hand. Not only does every one like to talk +then,<br> + but also to listen. Digestion, which is almost always attent, +is<br> + loquacious or silent, as characters differ. Then every one finds +his<br> + opportunity.</p> + +<p>Was not this preamble necessary to make you know the charm of +the<br> + narrative, by which a celebrated man, now dead, depicted the +innocent<br> + jesuistry of women, painting it with the subtlety peculiar to +persons<br> + who have seen much of the world, and which makes statesmen +such<br> + delightful storytellers when, like Prince Talleyrand and +Prince<br> + Metternich, they vouchsafe to tell a story?</p> + +<p>De Marsay, prime minister for some six months, had already +given<br> + proofs of superior capabilities. Those who had known him long +were not<br> + indeed surprised to see him display all the talents and +various<br> + aptitudes of a statesman; still it might yet be a question +whether he<br> + would prove to be a solid politician, or had merely been moulded +in<br> + the fire of circumstance. This question had just been asked by a +man<br> + whom he had made a prefet, a man of wit and observation, who had +for a<br> + long time been a journalist, and who admired de Marsay +without<br> + infusing into his admiration that dash of acrid criticism by +which, in<br> + Paris, one superior man excuses himself from admiring +another.</p> + +<p>"Was there ever," said he, "in your former life, any event, +any<br> + thought or wish which told you what your vocation was?" asked +Emile<br> + Blondet; "for we all, like Newton, have our apple, which falls +and<br> + leads us to the spot where our faculties develop----"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said de Marsay; "I will tell you about it."</p> + +<p>Pretty women, political dandies, artists, old men, de +Marsay's<br> + intimate friends,--all settled themselves comfortably, each in +his<br> + favorite attitude, to look at the Minister. Need it be said that +the<br> + servants had left, that the doors were shut, and the curtains +drawn<br> + over them? The silence was so complete that the murmurs of +the<br> + coachmen's voices could be heard from the courtyard, and the +pawing<br> + and champing made by horses when asking to be taken back to +their<br> + stable.</p> + +<p>"The statesman, my friends, exists by one single quality," +said the<br> + Minister, playing with his gold and mother-of-pearl dessert +knife. "To<br> + wit: the power of always being master of himself; of profiting +more or<br> + less, under all circumstances, by every event, however +fortuitous; in<br> + short, of having within himself a cold and disinterested other +self,<br> + who looks on as a spectator at all the changes of life, noting +our<br> + passions and our sentiments, and whispering to us in every case +the<br> + judgment of a sort of moral ready-reckoner."</p> + +<p>"That explains why a statesman is so rare a thing in France," +said old<br> + Lord Dudley.</p> + +<p>"From a sentimental point of view, this is horrible," the +Minister<br> + went on. "Hence, when such a phenomenon is seen in a young +man--<br> + Richelieu, who, when warned overnight by a letter of Concini's +peril,<br> + slept till midday, when his benefactor was killed at ten +o'clock--or<br> + say Pitt, or Napoleon, he was a monster. I became such a monster +at a<br> + very early age, thanks to a woman."</p> + +<p>"I fancied," said Madame de Montcornet with a smile, "that +more<br> + politicians were undone by us than we could make."</p> + +<p>"The monster of which I speak is a monster just because he +withstands<br> + you," replied de Marsay, with a little ironical bow.</p> + +<p>"If this is a love-story," the Baronne de Nucingen interposed, +"I<br> + request that it may not be interrupted by any reflections."</p> + +<p>"Reflection is so antipathetic to it!" cried Joseph +Bridau.</p> + +<p>"I was seventeen," de Marsay went on; "the Restoration was +being<br> + consolidated; my old friends know how impetuous and fervid I was +then.<br> + I was in love for the first time, and I was--I may say so +now--one of<br> + the handsomest young fellows in Paris. I had youth and good +looks, two<br> + advantages due to good fortune, but of which we are all as proud +as of<br> + a conquest. I must be silent as to the rest.--Like all youths, I +was<br> + in love with a woman six years older than myself. No one of you +here,"<br> + said he, looking carefully round the table, "can suspect her +name or<br> + recognize her. Ronquerolles alone, at the time, ever guessed +my<br> + secret. He had kept it well, but I should have feared his +smile.<br> + However, he is gone," said the Minister, looking round.</p> + +<p>"He would not stay to supper," said Madame de Nucingen.</p> + +<p>"For six months, possessed by my passion," de Marsay went on, +"but<br> + incapable of suspecting that it had overmastered me, I had +abandoned<br> + myself to that rapturous idolatry which is at once the triumph +and the<br> + frail joy of the young. I treasured <i>her</i> old gloves; I +drank an<br> + infusion of the flowers <i>she</i> had worn; I got out of bed at +night to<br> + go and gaze at <i>her</i> window. All my blood rushed to my +heart when I<br> + inhaled the perfume she used. I was miles away from knowing that +woman<br> + is a stove with a marble casing."</p> + +<p>"Oh! spare us your terrible verdicts," cried Madame de +Montcornet with<br> + a smile.</p> + +<p>"I believe I should have crushed with my scorn the philosopher +who<br> + first uttered this terrible but profoundly true thought," said +de<br> + Marsay. "You are all far too keen-sighted for me to say any more +on<br> + that point. These few words will remind you of your own +follies.</p> + +<p>"A great lady if ever there was one, a widow without +children--oh! all<br> + was perfect--my idol would shut herself up to mark my linen with +her<br> + hair; in short, she responded to my madness by her own. And how +can we<br> + fail to believe in passion when it has the guarantee of +madness?</p> + +<p>"We each devoted all our minds to concealing a love so perfect +and so<br> + beautiful from the eyes of the world; and we succeeded. And what +charm<br> + we found in our escapades! Of her I will say nothing. She +was<br> + perfection then, and to this day is considered one of the +most<br> + beautiful women in Paris; but at that time a man would have +endured<br> + death to win one of her glances. She had been left with an +amount of<br> + fortune sufficient for a woman who had loved and was adored; but +the<br> + Restoration, to which she owed renewed lustre, made it seem +inadequate<br> + in comparison with her name. In my position I was so fatuous as +never<br> + to dream of a suspicion. Though my jealousy would have been of +a<br> + hundred and twenty Othello-power, that terrible passion +slumbered in<br> + me as gold in the nugget. I would have ordered my servant to +thrash me<br> + if I had been so base as ever to doubt the purity of that +angel--so<br> + fragile and so strong, so fair, so artless, pure, spotless, and +whose<br> + blue eyes allowed my gaze to sound it to the very depths of her +heart<br> + with adorable submissiveness. Never was there the slightest +hesitancy<br> + in her attitude, her look, or word; always white and fresh, and +ready<br> + for the Beloved like the Oriental Lily of the 'Song of Songs!' +Ah! my<br> + friends!" sadly exclaimed the Minister, grown young again, "a +man must<br> + hit his head very hard on the marble to dispel that poem!"</p> + +<p><br> + This cry of nature, finding an echo in the listeners, spurred +the<br> + curiosity he had excited in them with so much skill.</p> + +<p>"Every morning, riding Sultan--the fine horse you sent me +from<br> + England," de Marsay went on, addressing Lord Dudley, "I rode +past her<br> + open carriage, the horses' pace being intentionally reduced to a +walk,<br> + and read the order of the day signaled to me by the flowers of +her<br> + bouquet in case we were unable to exchange a few words. Though +we saw<br> + each other almost every evening in society, and she wrote to me +every<br> + day, to deceive the curious and mislead the observant we had +adopted a<br> + scheme of conduct: never to look at each other; to avoid +meeting; to<br> + speak ill of each other. Self-admiration, swagger, or playing +the<br> + disdained swain,--all these old manoeuvres are not to compare +on<br> + either part with a false passion professed for an indifferent +person<br> + and an air of indifference towards the true idol. If two lovers +will<br> + only play that game, the world will always be deceived; but then +they<br> + must be very secure of each other.</p> + +<p>"Her stalking-horse was a man in high favor, a courtier, cold +and<br> + sanctimonious, whom she never received at her own house. This +little<br> + comedy was performed for the benefit of simpletons and +drawing-room<br> + circles, who laughed at it. Marriage was never spoken of between +us;<br> + six years' difference of age might give her pause; she knew +nothing of<br> + my fortune, of which, on principle, I have always kept the +secret. I,<br> + on my part, fascinated by her wit and manners, by the extent of +her<br> + knowledge and her experience of the world, would have married +her<br> + without a thought. At the same time, her reserve charmed me. If +she<br> + had been the first to speak of marriage in a certain tone, I +might<br> + perhaps have noted it as vulgar in that accomplished soul.</p> + +<p>"Six months, full and perfect--a diamond of the purest water! +That has<br> + been my portion of love in this base world.</p> + +<p>"One morning, attacked by the feverish stiffness which marks +the<br> + beginning of a cold, I wrote her a line to put off one of those +secret<br> + festivals which are buried under the roofs of Paris like pearls +in the<br> + sea. No sooner was the letter sent than remorse seized me: she +will<br> + not believe that I am ill! thought I. She was wont to affect +jealousy<br> + and suspiciousness.--When jealousy is genuine," said de +Marsay,<br> + interrupting himself, "it is the visible sign of an unique +passion."</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked the Princesse de Cadignan eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Unique and true love," said de Marsay, "produces a sort of +corporeal<br> + apathy attuned to the contemplation into which one falls. Then +the<br> + mind complicates everything; it works on itself, pictures its +fancies,<br> + turns them into reality and torment; and such jealousy is as<br> + delightful as it is distressing."</p> + +<p>A foreign minister smiled as, by the light of memory, he felt +the<br> + truth of this remark.</p> + +<p>"Besides," de Marsay went on, "I said to myself, why miss a +happy<br> + hour? Was it not better to go, even though feverish? And, then, +if she<br> + learns that I am ill, I believe her capable of hurrying here +and<br> + compromising herself. I made an effort; I wrote a second letter, +and<br> + carried it myself, for my confidential servant was now gone. The +river<br> + lay between us. I had to cross Paris; but at last, within a +suitable<br> + distance of her house, I caught sight of a messenger; I charged +him to<br> + have the note sent up to her at once, and I had the happy idea +of<br> + driving past her door in a hackney cab to see whether she might +not by<br> + chance receive the two letters together. At the moment when I +arrived<br> + it was two o'clock; the great gate opened to admit a carriage. +Whose?<br> + --That of the stalking-horse!</p> + +<p>"It is fifteen years since--well, even while I tell the tale, +I, the<br> + exhausted orator, the Minister dried up by the friction of +public<br> + business, I still feel a surging in my heart and the hot blood +about<br> + my diaphragm. At the end of an hour I passed once more; the +carriage<br> + was still in the courtyard! My note no doubt was in the +porter's<br> + hands. At last, at half-past three, the carriage drove out. I +could<br> + observe my rival's expression; he was grave, and did not smile; +but he<br> + was in love, and no doubt there was business in hand.</p> + +<p>"I went to keep my appointment; the queen of my heart met me; +I saw<br> + her calm, pure, serene. And here I must confess that I have +always<br> + thought that Othello was not only stupid, but showed very bad +taste.<br> + Only a man who is half a Negro could behave so: indeed +Shakespeare<br> + felt this when he called his play 'The Moor of Venice.' The +sight of<br> + the woman we love is such a balm to the heart that it must +dispel<br> + anguish, doubt, and sorrow. All my rage vanished. I could smile +again.<br> + Hence this cheerfulness, which at my age now would be the +most<br> + atrocious dissimulation, was the result of my youth and my love. +My<br> + jealousy once buried, I had the power of observation. My +ailing<br> + condition was evident; the horrible doubts that had fermented in +me<br> + increased it. At last I found an opening for putting in these +words:<br> + 'You have had no one with you this morning?' making a pretext of +the<br> + uneasiness I had felt in the fear lest she should have disposed +of her<br> + time after receiving my first note.--'Ah!' she exclaimed, 'only +a man<br> + could have such ideas! As if I could think of anything but +your<br> + suffering. Till the moment when I received your second note I +could<br> + think only of how I could contrive to see you.'--'And you +were<br> + alone?'--'Alone,' said she, looking at me with a face of +innocence so<br> + perfect that it must have been his distrust of such a look as +that<br> + which made the Moor kill Desdemona. As she lived alone in the +house,<br> + the word was a fearful lie. One single lie destroys the +absolute<br> + confidence which to some souls is the very foundation of +happiness.</p> + +<p>"To explain to you what passed in me at that moment it must be +assumed<br> + that we have an internal self of which the exterior <i>I</i> is +but the<br> + husk; that this self, as brilliant as light, is as fragile as a +shade<br> + --well, that beautiful self was in me thenceforth for ever +shrouded in<br> + crape. Yes; I felt a cold and fleshless hand cast over me the +winding-<br> + sheet of experience, dooming me to the eternal mourning into +which the<br> + first betrayal plunges the soul. As I cast my eyes down that she +might<br> + not observe my dizziness, this proud thought somewhat restored +my<br> + strength: 'If she is deceiving you, she is unworthy of you!'</p> + +<p>"I ascribed my sudden reddening and the tears which started to +my eyes<br> + to an attack of pain, and the sweet creature insisted on driving +me<br> + home with the blinds of the cab drawn. On the way she was full +of a<br> + solicitude and tenderness that might have deceived the Moor of +Venice<br> + whom I have taken as a standard of comparison. Indeed, if that +great<br> + child were to hesitate two seconds longer, every intelligent +spectator<br> + feels that he would ask Desdemona's forgiveness. Thus, killing +the<br> + woman is the act of a boy.--She wept as we parted, so much was +she<br> + distressed at being unable to nurse me herself. She wished she +were my<br> + valet, in whose happiness she found a cause of envy, and all +this was<br> + as elegantly expressed, oh! as Clarissa might have written in +her<br> + happiness. There is always a precious ape in the prettiest and +most<br> + angelic woman!"</p> + +<p>At these words all the women looked down, as if hurt by this +brutal<br> + truth so brutally stated.</p> + +<p>"I will say nothing of the night, nor of the week I spent," de +Marsay<br> + went on. "I discovered that I was a statesman."</p> + +<p>It was so well said that we all uttered an admiring +exclamation.</p> + +<p>"As I thought over the really cruel vengeance to be taken on a +woman,"<br> + said de Marsay, continuing his story, "with infernal +ingenuity--for,<br> + as we had loved each other, some terrible and irreparable +revenges<br> + were possible--I despised myself, I felt how common I was, I<br> + insensibly formulated a horrible code--that of Indulgence. In +taking<br> + vengeance on a woman, do we not in fact admit that there is but +one<br> + for us, that we cannot do without her? And, then, is revenge the +way<br> + to win her back? If she is not indispensable, if there are other +women<br> + in the world, why not grant her the right to change which we +assume?</p> + +<p>"This, of course, applies only to passion; in any other sense +it would<br> + be socially wrong. Nothing more clearly proves the necessity +for<br> + indissoluble marriage than the instability of passion. The two +sexes<br> + must be chained up, like wild beasts as they are, by inevitable +law,<br> + deaf and mute. Eliminate revenge, and infidelity in love is +nothing.<br> + Those who believe that for them there is but one woman in the +world<br> + must be in favor of vengeance, and then there is but one form of +it--<br> + that of Othello.</p> + +<p>"Mine was different."</p> + +<p>The words produced in each of us the imperceptible movement +which<br> + newspaper writers represent in Parliamentary reports by the +words:<br> + <i>great sensation</i>.</p> + +<p>"Cured of my cold, and of my pure, absolute, divine love, I +flung<br> + myself into an adventure, of which the heroine was charming, and +of a<br> + style of beauty utterly opposed to that of my deceiving angel. I +took<br> + care not to quarrel with this clever woman, who was so good +an<br> + actress, for I doubt whether true love can give such gracious +delights<br> + as those lavished by such a dexterous fraud. Such refined +hypocrisy is<br> + as good as virtue.--I am not speaking to you Englishwomen, my +lady,"<br> + said the Minister, suavely, addressing Lady Barimore, Lord +Dudley's<br> + daughter. "I tried to be the same lover.</p> + +<p>"I wished to have some of my hair worked up for my new angel, +and I<br> + went to a skilled artist who at that time dwelt in the Rue +Boucher.<br> + The man had a monopoly of capillary keepsakes, and I mention +his<br> + address for the benefit of those who have not much hair; he has +plenty<br> + of every kind and every color. After I had explained my order, +he<br> + showed me his work. I then saw achievements of patience +surpassing<br> + those which the story books ascribe to fairies, or which are +executed<br> + by prisoners. He brought me up to date as to the caprices and +fashions<br> + governing the use of hair. 'For the last year,' said he, 'there +has<br> + been a rage for marking linen with hair; happily I had a +fine<br> + collection of hair and skilled needlewomen,'--on hearing this +a<br> + suspicion flashed upon me; I took out my handkerchief and said, +'So<br> + this was done in your shop, with false hair?'--He looked at +the<br> + handkerchief, and said, 'Ay! that lady was very particular, +she<br> + insisted on verifying the tint of the hair. My wife herself +marked<br> + those handkerchiefs. You have there, sir, one of the finest +pieces of<br> + work we have ever executed.' Before this last ray of light I +might<br> + have believed something--might have taken a woman's word. I left +the<br> + shop still having faith in pleasure, but where love was +concerned I<br> + was as atheistical as a mathematician.</p> + +<p>"Two months later I was sitting by the side of the ethereal +being in<br> + her boudoir, on her sofa; I was holding one of her hands--they +were<br> + very beautiful--and we scaled the Alps of sentiment, culling +their<br> + sweetest flowers, and pulling off the daisy-petals; there is +always a<br> + moment when one pulls daisies to pieces, even if it is in a +drawing-<br> + room and there are no daisies. At the intensest moment of +tenderness,<br> + and when we are most in love, love is so well aware of its own +short<br> + duration that we are irresistibly urged to ask, 'Do you love me? +Will<br> + you love me always?' I seized the elegiac moment, so warm, so +flowery,<br> + so full-blown, to lead her to tell her most delightful lies, in +the<br> + enchanting language of love. Charlotte displayed her +choicest<br> + allurements: She could not live without me; I was to her the +only man<br> + in the world; she feared to weary me, because my presence bereft +her<br> + of all her wits; with me, all her faculties were lost in love; +she was<br> + indeed too tender to escape alarms; for the last six months she +had<br> + been seeking some way to bind me to her eternally, and God alone +knew<br> + that secret; in short, I was her god!"</p> + +<p>The women who heard de Marsay seemed offended by seeing +themselves so<br> + well acted, for he seconded the words by airs, and sidelong +attitudes,<br> + and mincing grimaces which were quite illusory.</p> + +<p>"At the very moment when I might have believed these +adorable<br> + falsehoods, as I still held her right hand in mine, I said to +her,<br> + 'When are you to marry the Duke?'</p> + +<p>"The thrust was so direct, my gaze met hers so boldly, and her +hand<br> + lay so tightly in mine, that her start, slight as it was, could +not be<br> + disguised; her eyes fell before mine, and a faint blush colored +her<br> + cheeks.--'The Duke! What do you mean?' she said, affecting +great<br> + astonishment.--'I know everything,' replied I; 'and in my +opinion, you<br> + should delay no longer; he is rich; he is a duke; but he is more +than<br> + devout, he is religious! I am sure, therefore, that you have +been<br> + faithful to me, thanks to his scruples. You cannot imagine +how<br> + urgently necessary it is that you should compromise him with +himself<br> + and with God; short of that you will never bring him to the +point.'--<br> + 'Is this a dream?' said she, pushing her hair from her +forehead,<br> + fifteen years before Malibran, with the gesture which Malibran +has<br> + made so famous.--'Come, do not be childish, my angel,' said I, +trying<br> + to take her hands; but she folded them before her with a +little<br> + prudish and indignant mein.--'Marry him, you have my +permission,' said<br> + I, replying to this gesture by using the formal <i>vous</i> +instead of<br> + <i>tu</i>. 'Nay, better, I beg you to do so.'--'But,' cried she, +falling at<br> + my knees, 'there is some horrible mistake; I love no one in the +world<br> + but you; you may demand any proofs you please.'--'Rise, my +dear,' said<br> + I, 'and do me the honor of being truthful.'--'As before +God.'--'Do you<br> + doubt my love?'--'No.'--'Nor my fidelity?'--'No.'--'Well, I +have<br> + committed the greatest crime,' I went on. 'I have doubted your +love<br> + and your fidelity. Between two intoxications I looked calmly +about<br> + me.'--'Calmly!' sighed she. 'That is enough, Henri; you no +longer love<br> + me.'</p> + +<br> +"She had at once found, you perceive, a loophole for escape. In +scenes<br> +like these an adverb is dangerous. But, happily, curiosity made +her<br> +add: 'And what did you see? Have I ever spoken of the Duke +excepting<br> +in public? Have you detected in my eyes----?'--'No,' said I, 'but +in<br> +his. And you have eight times made me go to Saint-Thomas d'Aquin +to<br> +see you listening to the same mass as he.'--'Ah!' she exclaimed, +'then<br> +I have made you jealous!'--Oh! I only wish I could be!' said +I,<br> +admiring the pliancy of her quick intelligence, and these +acrobatic<br> +feats which can only be successful in the eyes of the blind. 'But +by<br> +dint of going to church I have become very incredulous. On the +day of<br> +my first cold, and your first treachery, when you thought I was +in<br> +bed, you received the Duke, and you told me you had seen no +one.'--'Do<br> +you know that your conduct is infamous?'--'In what respect? I +consider<br> +your marriage to the Duke an excellent arrangement; he gives you +a<br> +great name, the only rank that suits you, a brilliant and<br> +distinguished position. You will be one of the queens of Paris. +I<br> +should be doing you a wrong if I placed any obstacle in the way +of<br> +this prospect, this distinguished life, this splendid alliance. +Ah!<br> +Charlotte, some day you will do me justice by discovering how +unlike<br> +my character is to that of other young men. You would have +been<br> +compelled to deceive me; yes, you would have found it very +difficult<br> +to break with me, for he watches you. It is time that we should +part,<br> +for the Duke is rigidly virtuous. You must turn prude; I advise +you to<br> +do so. The Duke is vain; he will be proud of his wife.'--'Oh!' +cried<br> +she, bursting into tears, 'Henri, if only you had spoken! Yes, if +you<br> +had chosen'--it was I who was to blame, you understand--'we would +have<br> +gone to live all our days in a corner, married, happy, and defied +the<br> +world.'--'Well, it is too late now,' said I, kissing her hands, +and<br> +putting on a victimized air.--'Good God! But I can undo it all!' +said<br> +she.--'No, you have gone too far with the Duke. I ought indeed to +go a<br> +journey to part us more effectually. We should both have reason +to<br> +fear our own affection----'--'Henri, do you think the Duke has +any<br> +suspicions?' I was still 'Henri,' but the <i>tu</i> was lost for +ever.--'I<br> +do not think so,' I replied, assuming the manner of a friend; +'but be<br> +as devout as possible, reconcile yourself to God, for the Duke +waits<br> +for proofs; he hesitates, you must bring him to the point.' + +<p>"She rose, and walked twice round the boudoir in real or +affected<br> + agitation; then she no doubt found an attitude and a look +beseeming<br> + the new state of affairs, for she stopped in front of me, held +out her<br> + hand, and said in a voice broken by emotion, 'Well, Henri, you +are<br> + loyal, noble, and a charming man; I shall never forget you.'</p> + +<p>"These were admirable tactics. She was bewitching in this +transition<br> + of feeling, indispensable to the situation in which she wished +to<br> + place herself in regard to me. I fell into the attitude, the +manners,<br> + and the look of a man so deeply distressed, that I saw her too +newly<br> + assumed dignity giving way; she looked at me, took my hand, drew +me<br> + along almost, threw me on the sofa, but quite gently, and said +after a<br> + moment's silence, 'I am dreadfully unhappy, my dear fellow. Do +you<br> + love me?'--'Oh! yes.'--'Well, then, what will become of you?' +"</p> + +<p>At this point the women all looked at each other.</p> + +<p>"Though I can still suffer when I recall her perfidy, I still +laugh at<br> + her expression of entire conviction and sweet satisfaction that +I must<br> + die, or at any rate sink into perpetual melancholy," de Marsay +went<br> + on. "Oh! do not laugh yet!" he said to his listeners; "there is +better<br> + to come. I looked at her very tenderly after a pause, and said +to her,<br> + 'Yes, that is what I have been wondering.'--'Well, what will you +do?'<br> + --'I asked myself that the day after my cold.'--'And----?' she +asked<br> + with eager anxiety.--'And I have made advances to the little +lady to<br> + whom I was supposed to be attached.'</p> + +<p>"Charlotte started up from the sofa like a frightened doe, +trembling<br> + like a leaf, gave me one of those looks in which women forgo all +their<br> + dignity, all their modesty, their refinement, and even their +grace,<br> + the sparkling glitter of a hunted viper's eye when driven into +a<br> + corner, and said, 'And I have loved this man! I have struggled! +I<br> + have----' On this last thought, which I leave you to guess, she +made<br> + the most impressive pause I ever heard.--'Good God!' she cried, +'how<br> + unhappy are we women! we never can be loved. To you there is +nothing<br> + serious in the purest feelings. But never mind; when you cheat +us you<br> + still are our dupes!'--'I see that plainly,' said I, with a +stricken<br> + air; 'you have far too much wit in your anger for your heart to +suffer<br> + from it.'--This modest epigram increased her rage; she found +some<br> + tears of vexation. 'You disgust me with the world and with +life.' she<br> + said; 'you snatch away all my illusions; you deprave my +heart.'</p> + +<p>"She said to me all that I had a right to say to her, and with +a<br> + simple effrontery, an artless audacity, which would certainly +have<br> + nailed any man but me on the spot.--'What is to become of us +poor<br> + women in a state of society such as Louis XVIII.'s charter made +it?'--<br> + (Imagine how her words had run away with her.)--'Yes, indeed, we +are<br> + born to suffer. In matters of passion we are always superior to +you,<br> + and you are beneath all loyalty. There is no honesty in your +hearts.<br> + To you love is a game in which you always cheat.'--'My dear,' +said I,<br> + 'to take anything serious in society nowadays would be like +making<br> + romantic love to an actress.'--'What a shameless betrayal! It +was<br> + deliberately planned!'--'No, only a rational +issue.'--'Good-bye,<br> + Monsieur de Marsay,' said she; 'you have deceived me +horribly.'--<br> + 'Surely,' I replied, taking up a submissive attitude, 'Madame +la<br> + Duchesse will not remember Charlotte's +grievances?'--'Certainly,' she<br> + answered bitterly.--'Then, in fact, you hate me?'--She bowed, +and I<br> + said to myself, 'There is something still left!'</p> + +<p>"The feeling she had when I parted from her allowed her to +believe<br> + that she still had something to avenge. Well, my friends, I +have<br> + carefully studied the lives of men who have had great success +with<br> + women, but I do not believe that the Marechal de Richelieu, or +Lauzun,<br> + or Louis de Valois ever effected a more judicious retreat at the +first<br> + attempt. As to my mind and heart, they were cast in a mould then +and<br> + there, once for all, and the power of control I thus acquired +over the<br> + thoughtless impulses which make us commit so many follies gained +me<br> + the admirable presence of mind you all know."</p> + +<p>"How deeply I pity the second!" exclaimed the Baronne de +Nucingen.</p> + +<p>A scarcely perceptible smile on de Marsay's pale lips made +Delphine de<br> + Nucingen color.</p> + +<p>"How we do forget!" said the Baron de Nucingen.</p> + +<p>The great banker's simplicity was so extremely droll, that his +wife,<br> + who was de Marsay's "second," could not help laughing like every +one<br> + else.</p> + +<p>"You are all ready to condemn the woman," said Lady Dudley. +"Well, I<br> + quite understand that she did not regard her marriage as an act +of<br> + inconstancy. Men will never distinguish between constancy +and<br> + fidelity.--I know the woman whose story Monsieur de Marsay has +told<br> + us, and she is one of the last of your truly great ladies."</p> + +<p>"Alas! my lady, you are right," replied de Marsay. "For very +nearly<br> + fifty years we have been looking on at the progressive ruin of +all<br> + social distinctions. We ought to have saved our women from this +great<br> + wreck, but the Civil Code has swept its leveling influence over +their<br> + heads. However terrible the words, they must be spoken: +Duchesses are<br> + vanishing, and marquises too! As to the baronesses--I must +apologize<br> + to Madame de Nucingen, who will become a countess when her +husband is<br> + made a peer of France--baronesses have never succeeded in +getting<br> + people to take them seriously."</p> + +<p>"Aristocracy begins with the viscountess," said Blondet with a +smile.</p> + +<p>"Countesses will survive," said de Marsay. "An elegant woman +will be<br> + more or less of a countess--a countess of the Empire or of +yesterday,<br> + a countess of the old block, or, as they say in Italy, a +countess by<br> + courtesy. But as to the great lady, she died out with the +dignified<br> + splendor of the last century, with powder, patches, +high-heeled<br> + slippers, and stiff bodices with a delta stomacher of bows. +Duchesses<br> + in these days can pass through a door without any need to widen +it for<br> + their hoops. The Empire saw the last of gowns with trains! I am +still<br> + puzzled to understand how a sovereign who wished to see his +drawing-<br> + room swept by ducal satin and velvet did not make indestructible +laws.<br> + Napoleon never guessed the results of the Code he was so proud +of.<br> + That man, by creating duchesses, founded the race of our +'ladies' of<br> + to-day--the indirect offspring of his legislation."</p> + +<p>"It was logic, handled as a hammer by boys just out of school +and by<br> + obscure journalists, which demolished the splendors of the +social<br> + state," said the Comte de Vandenesse. "In these days every rogue +who<br> + can hold his head straight in his collar, cover his manly bosom +with<br> + half an ell of satin by way of a cuirass, display a brow +where<br> + apocryphal genius gleams under curling locks, and strut in a +pair of<br> + patent-leather pumps graced by silk socks which cost six +francs,<br> + screws his eye-glass into one of his eye-sockets by puckering up +his<br> + cheek, and whether he be an attorney's clerk, a contractor's +son, or a<br> + banker's bastard, he stares impertinently at the prettiest +duchess,<br> + appraises her as she walks downstairs, and says to his +friend--dressed<br> + by Buisson, as we all are, and mounted in patent-leather like +any duke<br> + himself--'There, my boy, that is a perfect lady.' "</p> + +<p>"You have not known how to form a party," said Lord Dudley; +"it will<br> + be a long time yet before you have a policy. You talk a great +deal in<br> + France about organizing labor, and you have not yet +organized<br> + property. So this is what happens: Any duke--and even in the +time of<br> + Louis XVIII. and Charles X. there were some left who had two +hundred<br> + thousand francs a year, a magnificent residence, and a sumptuous +train<br> + of servants--well, such a duke could live like a great lord. The +last<br> + of these great gentlemen in France was the Prince de +Talleyrand.--This<br> + duke leaves four children, two of them girls. Granting that he +has<br> + great luck in marrying them all well, each of these descendants +will<br> + have but sixty or eighty thousand francs a year now; each is +the<br> + father or mother of children, and consequently obliged to live +with<br> + the strictest economy in a flat on the ground floor or first +floor of<br> + a large house. Who knows if they may not even be hunting a +fortune?<br> + Henceforth the eldest son's wife, a duchess in name only, has +no<br> + carriage, no people, no opera-box, no time to herself. She has +not her<br> + own rooms in the family mansion, nor her fortune, nor her pretty +toys;<br> + she is buried in trade; she buys socks for her dear little +children,<br> + nurses them herself, and keeps an eye on her girls, whom she no +longer<br> + sends to school at a convent. Thus your noblest dames have been +turned<br> + into worthy brood-hens."</p> + +<p>"Alas! it is true," said Joseph Bridau. "In our day we cannot +show<br> + those beautiful flowers of womanhood which graced the golden +ages of<br> + the French Monarchy. The great lady's fan is broken. A woman +has<br> + nothing now to blush for; she need not slander or whisper, hide +her<br> + face or reveal it. A fan is of no use now but for fanning +herself.<br> + When once a thing is no more than what it is, it is too useful +to be a<br> + form of luxury."</p> + +<p>"Everything in France has aided and abetted the 'perfect +lady,' " said<br> + Daniel d'Arthez. "The aristocracy has acknowledged her by +retreating<br> + to the recesses of its landed estates, where it has hidden +itself to<br> + die--emigrating inland before the march of ideas, as of old to +foreign<br> + lands before that of the masses. The women who could have +founded<br> + European <i>salons</i>, could have guided opinion and turned it +inside out<br> + like a glove, could have ruled the world by ruling the men of +art or<br> + of intellect who ought to have ruled it, have committed the +blunder of<br> + abandoning their ground; they were ashamed of having to fight +against<br> + the citizen class drunk with power, and rushing out on to the +stage of<br> + the world, there to be cut to pieces perhaps by the barbarians +who are<br> + at its heels. Hence, where the middle class insist on seeing<br> + princesses, these are really only ladylike young women. In these +days<br> + princes can find no great ladies whom they may compromise; they +cannot<br> + even confer honor on a woman taken up at random. The Duc de +Bourbon<br> + was the last prince to avail himself of this privilege."</p> + +<p>"And God alone knows how dearly he paid for it," said Lord +Dudley.</p> + +<p>"Nowadays princes have lady-like wives, obliged to share their +opera-<br> + box with other ladies; royal favor could not raise them higher +by a<br> + hair's breadth; they glide unremarkable between the waters of +the<br> + citizen class and those of the nobility--not altogether noble +nor<br> + altogether <i>bourgeoises</i>," said the Marquise de Rochegude +acridly.</p> + +<p>"The press has fallen heir to the Woman," exclaimed Rastignac. +"She no<br> + longer has the quality of a spoken <i>feuilleton</i>--delightful +calumnies<br> + graced by elegant language. We read <i>feuilletons</i> written +in a dialect<br> + which changes every three years, society papers about as +mirthful as<br> + an undertaker's mute, and as light as the lead of their type. +French<br> + conversation is carried on from one end of the country to the +other in<br> + a revolutionary jargon, through long columns of type printed in +old<br> + mansions where a press groans in the place where formerly +elegant<br> + company used to meet."</p> + +<p>"The knell of the highest society is tolling," said a Russian +Prince.<br> + "Do you hear it? And the first stroke is your modern word +<i>lady</i>."</p> + +<p>"You are right, Prince," said de Marsay. "The 'perfect lady,' +issuing<br> + from the ranks of the nobility, or sprouting from the citizen +class,<br> + and the product of every soil, even of the provinces is the +expression<br> + of these times, a last remaining embodiment of good taste, +grace, wit,<br> + and distinction, all combined, but dwarfed. We shall see no more +great<br> + ladies in France, but there will be 'ladies' for a long time, +elected<br> + by public opinion to form an upper chamber of women, and who +will be<br> + among the fair sex what a 'gentleman' is in England."</p> + +<p>"And that they call progress!" exclaimed Mademoiselle des +Touches. "I<br> + should like to know where the progress lies?"</p> + +<p>"Why, in this," said Madame de Nucingen. "Formerly a woman +might have<br> + the voice of a fish-seller, the walk of a grenadier, the face of +an<br> + impudent courtesan, her hair too high on her forehead, a large +foot, a<br> + thick hand--she was a great lady in spite of it all; but in +these<br> + days, even if she were a Montmorency--if a Montmorency would +ever be<br> + such a creature--she would not be a lady."</p> + +<p>"But what do you mean by a 'perfect lady'?" asked Count Adam +Laginski.</p> + +<p>"She is a modern product, a deplorable triumph of the elective +system<br> + as applied to the fair sex," said the Minister. "Every +revolution has<br> + a word of its own which epitomizes and depicts it."</p> + +<p>"You are right," said the Russian, who had come to make a +literary<br> + reputation in Paris. "The explanation of certain words added +from time<br> + to time to your beautiful language would make a magnificent +history.<br> + <i>Organize</i>, for instance, is the word of the Empire, and +sums up<br> + Napoleon completely."</p> + +<p>"But all that does not explain what is meant by a lady!" the +young<br> + Pole exclaimed, with some impatience.</p> + +<p>"Well, I will tell you," said Emile Blondet to Count Adam. +"One fine<br> + morning you go for a saunter in Paris. It is past two, but five +has<br> + not yet struck. You see a woman coming towards you; your first +glance<br> + at her is like the preface to a good book, it leads you to +expect a<br> + world of elegance and refinement. Like a botanist over hill and +dale<br> + in his pursuit of plants, among the vulgarities of Paris life +you have<br> + at last found a rare flower. This woman is attended by two +very<br> + distinguished-looking men, of whom one, at any rate, wears an +order;<br> + or else a servant out of livery follows her at a distance of +ten<br> + yards. She displays no gaudy colors, no open-worked stockings, +no<br> + over-elaborate waist-buckle, no embroidered frills to her +drawers<br> + fussing round her ankles. You will see that she is shod with +prunella<br> + shoes, with sandals crossed over extremely fine cotton +stockings, or<br> + plain gray silk stockings; or perhaps she wears boots of the +most<br> + exquisite simplicity. You notice that her gown is made of a neat +and<br> + inexpensive material, but made in a way that surprises more than +one<br> + woman of the middle class; it is almost always a long pelisse, +with<br> + bows to fasten it, and neatly bound with fine cord or an +imperceptible<br> + braid. The Unknown has a way of her own in wrapping herself in +her<br> + shawl or mantilla; she knows how to draw it round her from her +hips to<br> + her neck, outlining a carapace, as it were, which would make +an<br> + ordinary woman look like a turtle, but which in her sets off the +most<br> + beautiful forms while concealing them. How does she do it? This +secret<br> + she keeps, though unguarded by any patent.</p> + +<br> +"As she walks she gives herself a little concentric and +harmonious<br> +twist, which makes her supple or dangerous slenderness writhe +under<br> +the stuff, as a snake does under the green gauze of trembling +grass.<br> +Is it to an angel or a devil that she owes the graceful +undulation<br> +which plays under her long black silk cape, stirs its lace +frill,<br> +sheds an airy balm, and what I should like to call the breeze of +a<br> +Parisienne? You may recognize over her arms, round her waist, +about<br> +her throat, a science of drapery recalling the antique Mnemosyne. + + +<p>"Oh! how thoroughly she understands the <i>cut</i> of her +gait--forgive the<br> + expression. Study the way she puts her foot forward moulding her +skirt<br> + with such a decent preciseness that the passer-by is filled +with<br> + admiration, mingled with desire, but subdued by deep respect. +When an<br> + Englishwoman attempts this step, she looks like a grenadier +marching<br> + forward to attack a redoubt. The women of Paris have a genius +for<br> + walking. The municipality really owed them asphalt +footwalks.</p> + +<p>"Our Unknown jostles no one. If she wants to pass, she waits +with<br> + proud humility till some one makes way. The distinction peculiar +to a<br> + well-bred woman betrays itself, especially in the way she holds +her<br> + shawl or cloak crossed over her bosom. Even as she walks she has +a<br> + little air of serene dignity, like Raphael's Madonnas in their +frames.<br> + Her aspect, at once quiet and disdainful, makes the most +insolent<br> + dandy step aside for her.</p> + +<p>"Her bonnet, remarkable for its simplicity, is trimmed with +crisp<br> + ribbons; there may be flowers in it, but the cleverest of such +women<br> + wear only bows. Feathers demand a carriage; flowers are too +showy.<br> + Beneath it you see the fresh unworn face of a woman who, +without<br> + conceit, is sure of herself; who looks at nothing, and sees<br> + everything; whose vanity, satiated by being constantly +gratified,<br> + stamps her face with an indifference which piques your +curiosity. She<br> + knows that she is looked at, she knows that everybody, even +women,<br> + turn round to see her again. And she threads her way through +Paris<br> + like a gossamer, spotless and pure.</p> + +<p>"This delightful species affects the hottest latitudes, the +cleanest<br> + longitudes of Paris; you will meet her between the 10th and +110th<br> + Arcade of the Rue de Rivoli; along the line of the Boulevards +from the<br> + equator of the Passage des Panoramas, where the products of +India<br> + flourish, where the warmest creations of industry are displayed, +to<br> + the Cape of the Madeleine; in the least muddy districts of the +citizen<br> + quarters, between No. 30 and No. 130 of the Rue du Faubourg +Saint-<br> + Honore. During the winter, she haunts the terrace of the +Feuillants,<br> + but not the asphalt pavement that lies parallel. According to +the<br> + weather, she may be seen flying in the Avenue of the +Champs-Elysees,<br> + which is bounded on the east by the Place Louis XV., on the west +by<br> + the Avenue de Marigny, to the south by the road, to the north by +the<br> + gardens of the Faubourg Saint-Honore. Never is this pretty +variety of<br> + woman to be seen in the hyperborean regions of the Rue +Saint-Denis,<br> + never in the Kamtschatka of miry, narrow, commercial streets, +never<br> + anywhere in bad weather. These flowers of Paris, blooming only +in<br> + Oriental weather, perfume the highways; and after five o'clock +fold up<br> + like morning-glory flowers. The women you will see later, +looking a<br> + little like them, are would-be ladies; while the fair Unknown, +your<br> + Beatrice of a day, is a 'perfect lady.'</p> + +<p>"It is not very easy for a foreigner, my dear Count, to +recognize the<br> + differences by which the observer <i>emeritus</i> distinguishes +them--women<br> + are such consummate actresses; but they are glaring in the eyes +of<br> + Parisians: hooks ill fastened, strings showing loops of +rusty-white<br> + tape through a gaping slit in the back, rubbed shoe-leather, +ironed<br> + bonnet-strings, an over-full skirt, an over-tight waist. You +will see<br> + a certain effort in the intentional droop of the eyelid. There +is<br> + something conventional in the attitude.</p> + +<p>"As to the <i>bourgeoise</i>, the citizen womankind, she +cannot possibly be<br> + mistaken for the spell cast over you by the Unknown. She is +bustling,<br> + and goes out in all weathers, trots about, comes, goes, gazes, +does<br> + not know whether she will or will not go into a shop. Where the +lady<br> + knows just what she wants and what she is doing, the townswoman +is<br> + undecided, tucks up her skirts to cross a gutter, dragging a +child by<br> + the hand, which compels her to look out for the vehicles; she is +a<br> + mother in public, and talks to her daughter; she carries money +in her<br> + bag, and has open-work stockings on her feet; in winter, she +wears a<br> + boa over her fur cloak; in summer, a shawl and a scarf; she +is<br> + accomplished in the redundancies of dress.</p> + +<p>"You will meet the fair Unknown again at the Italiens, at the +Opera,<br> + at a ball. She will then appear under such a different aspect +that you<br> + would think them two beings devoid of any analogy. The woman +has<br> + emerged from those mysterious garments like a butterfly from its +silky<br> + cocoon. She serves up, like some rare dainty, to your lavished +eyes,<br> + the forms which her bodice scarcely revealed in the morning. At +the<br> + theatre she never mounts higher than the second tier, excepting +at the<br> + Italiens. You can there watch at your leisure the studied<br> + deliberateness of her movements. The enchanting deceiver plays +off all<br> + the little political artifices of her sex so naturally as to +exclude<br> + all idea of art or premeditation. If she has a royally beautiful +hand,<br> + the most perspicacious beholder will believe that it is +absolutely<br> + necessary that she should twist, or refix, or push aside the +ringlet<br> + or curl she plays with. If she has some dignity of profile, you +will<br> + be persuaded that she is giving irony or grace to what she says +to her<br> + neighbor, sitting in such a position as to produce the magical +effect<br> + of the 'lost profile,' so dear to great painters, by which the +cheek<br> + catches the high light, the nose is shown in clear outline, +the<br> + nostrils are transparently rosy, the forehead squarely modeled, +the<br> + eye has its spangle of fire, but fixed on space, and the +white<br> + roundness of the chin is accentuated by a line of light. If she +has a<br> + pretty foot, she will throw herself on a sofa with the +coquettish<br> + grace of a cat in the sunshine, her feet outstretched without +your<br> + feeling that her attitude is anything but the most charming +model ever<br> + given to a sculptor by lassitude.</p> + +<p>"Only the perfect lady is quite at her ease in full dress; +nothing<br> + inconveniences her. You will never see her, like the woman of +the<br> + citizen class, pulling up a refractory shoulder-strap, or +pushing down<br> + a rebellious whalebone, or looking whether her tucker is doing +its<br> + office of faithful guardian to two treasures of dazzling +whiteness, or<br> + glancing in the mirrors to see if her head-dress is keeping its +place.<br> + Her toilet is always in harmony with her character; she had had +time<br> + to study herself, to learn what becomes her, for she has long +known<br> + what does not suit her. You will not find her as you go out; +she<br> + vanishes before the end of the play. If by chance she is to be +seen,<br> + calm and stately, on the stairs, she is experiencing some +violent<br> + emotion; she has to bestow a glance, to receive a promise. +Perhaps she<br> + goes down so slowly on purpose to gratify the vanity of a slave +whom<br> + she sometimes obeys. If your meeting takes place at a ball or +an<br> + evening party, you will gather the honey, natural or affected of +her<br> + insinuating voice; her empty words will enchant you, and she +will know<br> + how to give them the value of thought by her inimitable +bearing."</p> + +<p>"To be such a woman, is it not necessary to be very clever?" +asked the<br> + Polish Count.</p> + +<p>"It is necessary to have great taste," replied the Princesse +de<br> + Cadignan.</p> + +<p>"And in France taste is more than cleverness," said the +Russian.</p> + +<p>"This woman's cleverness is the triumph of a purely plastic +art,"<br> + Blondet went on. "You will not know what she said, but you will +be<br> + fascinated. She will toss her head, or gently shrug her +white<br> + shoulders; she will gild an insignificant speech with a charming +pout<br> + and smile; or throw a Voltairean epigram into an 'Indeed!' an +'Ah!' a<br> + 'What then!' A jerk of her head will be her most pertinent form +of<br> + questioning; she will give meaning to the movement by which she +twirls<br> + a vinaigrette hanging to her finger by a ring. She gets an +artificial<br> + grandeur out of superlative trivialities; she simply drops her +hand<br> + impressively, letting it fall over the arm of her chair as +dewdrops<br> + hang on the cup of a flower, and all is said--she has +pronounced<br> + judgment beyond appeal, to the apprehension of the most obtuse. +She<br> + knows how to listen to you; she gives you the opportunity of +shining,<br> + and--I ask your modesty--those moments are rare?"</p> + +<p>The candid simplicity of the young Pole, to whom Blondet +spoke, made<br> + all the party shout with laughter.</p> + +<p>"Now, you will not talk for half-an-hour with a +<i>bourgeoise</i> without<br> + her alluding to her husband in one way or another," Blondet went +on<br> + with unperturbed gravity; "whereas, even if you know that your +lady is<br> + married, she will have the delicacy to conceal her husband +so<br> + effectually that it will need the enterprise of Christopher +Columbus<br> + to discover him. Often you will fail in the attempt +single-handed. If<br> + you have had no opportunity of inquiring, towards the end of +the<br> + evening you detect her gazing fixedly at a middle-aged man +wearing a<br> + decoration, who bows and goes out. She has ordered her carriage, +and<br> + goes.</p> + +<p>"You are not the rose, but you have been with the rose, and +you go to<br> + bed under the golden canopy of a delicious dream, which will +last<br> + perhaps after Sleep, with his heavy finger, has opened the ivory +gates<br> + of the temple of dreams.</p> + +<p>"The lady, when she is at home, sees no one before four; she +is shrewd<br> + enough always to keep you waiting. In her house you will +find<br> + everything in good taste; her luxury is for hourly use, and +duly<br> + renewed; you will see nothing under glass shades, no rags of +wrappings<br> + hanging about, and looking like a pantry. You will find the +staircase<br> + warmed. Flowers on all sides will charm your sight--flowers, the +only<br> + gift she accepts, and those only from certain people, for +nosegays<br> + live but a day; they give pleasure, and must be replaced; to her +they<br> + are, as in the East, a symbol and a promise. The costly toys +of<br> + fashion lie about, but not so as to suggest a museum or a +curiosity<br> + shop. You will find her sitting by the fire in a low chair, from +which<br> + she will not rise to greet you. Her talk will not now be what it +was<br> + at the ball; there she was our creditor; in her own home she +owes you<br> + the pleasure of her wit. These are the shades of which the lady +is a<br> + marvelous mistress. What she likes in you is a man to swell +her<br> + circle, an object for the cares and attentions which such women +are<br> + now happy to bestow. Therefore, to attract you to her +drawing-room,<br> + she will be bewitchingly charming. This especially is where you +feel<br> + how isolated women are nowadays, and why they want a little +world of<br> + their own, to which they may seem a constellation. Conversation +is<br> + impossible without generalities."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said de Marsay, "you have truly hit the fault of our +age. The<br> + epigram--a volume in a word--no longer strikes, as it did in +the<br> + eighteenth century, at persons or at things, but at squalid +events,<br> + and it dies in a day."</p> + +<p>"Hence," said Blondet, "the intelligence of the lady, if she +has any,<br> + consists in casting doubts on everything. Here lies the +great<br> + difference between two women; the townswoman is certainly +virtuous;<br> + the lady does not know yet whether she is, or whether she always +will<br> + be; she hesitates and struggles where the other refuses +point-blank<br> + and falls full length. This hesitancy in everything is one of +the last<br> + graces left to her by our horrible times. She rarely goes to +church,<br> + but she will talk to you of religion; and if you have the good +taste<br> + to affect Free-thought, she will try to convert you, for you +will have<br> + opened the way for the stereotyped phrases, the head-shaking +and<br> + gestures understood by all these women: 'For shame! I thought +you had<br> + too much sense to attack religion. Society is tottering, and +you<br> + deprive it of its support. Why, religion at this moment means +you and<br> + me; it is property, and the future of our children! Ah! let us +not be<br> + selfish! Individualism is the disease of the age, and religion +is the<br> + only remedy; it unites families which your laws put asunder,' +and so<br> + forth. Then she plunges into some neo-Christian speech sprinkled +with<br> + political notions which is neither Catholic nor Protestant--but +moral?<br> + Oh! deuced moral!--in which you may recognize a fag end of +every<br> + material woven by modern doctrines, at loggerheads +together."</p> + +<p>The women could not help laughing at the airs by which +Blondet<br> + illustrated his satire.</p> + +<p>"This explanation, dear Count Adam," said Blondet, turning to +the<br> + Pole, "will have proved to you that the 'perfect lady' +represents the<br> + intellectual no less than the political muddle, just as she +is<br> + surrounded by the showy and not very lasting products of an +industry<br> + which is always aiming at destroying its work in order to +replace it<br> + by something else. When you leave her you say to yourself: +She<br> + certainly has superior ideas! And you believe it all the more +because<br> + she will have sounded your heart with a delicate touch, and have +asked<br> + you your secrets; she affects ignorance, to learn everything; +there<br> + are some things she never knows, not even when she knows them. +You<br> + alone will be uneasy, you will know nothing of the state of her +heart.<br> + The great ladies of old flaunted their love-affairs, with +newspapers<br> + and advertisements; in these days the lady has her little +passion<br> + neatly ruled like a sheet of music with its crotchets and +quavers and<br> + minims, its rests, its pauses, its sharps to sign the key. A +mere weak<br> + women, she is anxious not to compromise her love, or her +husband, or<br> + the future of her children. Name, position, and fortune are no +longer<br> + flags so respected as to protect all kinds of merchandise on +board.<br> + The whole aristocracy no longer advances in a body to screen the +lady.<br> + She has not, like the great lady of the past, the demeanor of +lofty<br> + antagonism; she can crush nothing under foot, it is she who +would be<br> + crushed. Thus she is apt at Jesuitical <i>mezzo termine</i>, she +is a<br> + creature of equivocal compromises, of guarded proprieties, +of<br> + anonymous passions steered between two reef-bound shores. She is +as<br> + much afraid of her servants as an Englishwoman who lives in +dread of a<br> + trial in the divorce-court. This woman--so free at a ball, +so<br> + attractive out walking--is a slave at home; she is never +independent<br> + but in perfect privacy, or theoretically. She must preserve +herself in<br> + her position as a lady. This is her task.</p> + +<p>"For in our day a woman repudiated by her husband, reduced to +a meagre<br> + allowance, with no carriage, no luxury, no opera-box, none of +the<br> + divine accessories of the toilet, is no longer a wife, a maid, +or a<br> + townswoman; she is adrift, and becomes a chattel. The Carmelites +will<br> + not receive a married woman; it would be bigamy. Would her lover +still<br> + have anything to say to her? That is the question. Thus your +perfect<br> + lady may perhaps give occasion to calumny, never to +slander."</p> + +<p>"It is all so horribly true," said the Princesse de +Cadignan.</p> + +<p>"And so," said Blondet, "our 'perfect lady' lives between +English<br> + hypocrisy and the delightful frankness of the eighteenth +century--a<br> + bastard system, symptomatic of an age in which nothing that +grows up<br> + is at all like the thing that has vanished, in which transition +leads<br> + nowhere, everything is a matter of degree; all the great +figures<br> + shrink into the background, and distinction is purely personal. +I am<br> + fully convinced that it is impossible for a woman, even if she +were<br> + born close to a throne, to acquire before the age of +five-and-twenty<br> + the encyclopaedic knowledge of trifles, the practice of +manoeuvring,<br> + the important small things, the musical tones and harmony of +coloring,<br> + the angelic bedevilments and innocent cunning, the speech and +the<br> + silence, the seriousness and the banter, the wit and the +obtuseness,<br> + the diplomacy and the ignorance which make up the perfect +lady."</p> + +<p>"And where, in accordance with the sketch you have drawn," +said<br> + Mademoiselle des Touches to Emile Blondet, "would you class the +female<br> + author? Is she a perfect lady, a woman <i>comme il +faut</i>?"</p> + +<p>"When she has no genius, she is a woman <i>comme il n'en faut +pas</i>,"<br> + Blondet replied, emphasizing the words with a stolen glance, +which<br> + might make them seem praise frankly addressed to Camille Maupin. +"This<br> + epigram is not mine, but Napoleon's," he added.</p> + +<p>"You need not owe Napoleon any grudge on that score," said +Canalis,<br> + with an emphatic tone and gesture. "It was one of his weaknesses +to be<br> + jealous of literary genius--for he had his mean points. Who will +ever<br> + explain, depict, or understand Napoleon? A man represented with +his<br> + arms folded, and who did everything, who was the greatest force +ever<br> + known, the most concentrated, the most mordant, the most acid of +all<br> + forces; a singular genius who carried armed civilization in +every<br> + direction without fixing it anywhere; a man who could do +everything<br> + because he willed everything; a prodigious phenomenon of +will,<br> + conquering an illness by a battle, and yet doomed to die of +disease in<br> + bed after living in the midst of ball and bullets; a man with a +code<br> + and a sword in his brain, word and deed; a clear-sighted spirit +that<br> + foresaw everything but his own fall; a capricious politician +who<br> + risked men by handfuls out of economy, and who spared three +heads--<br> + those of Talleyrand, of Pozzo de Borgo, and of Metternich,<br> + diplomatists whose death would have saved the French Empire, and +who<br> + seemed to him of greater weight than thousands of soldiers; a +man to<br> + whom nature, as a rare privilege, had given a heart in a frame +of<br> + bronze; mirthful and kind at midnight amid women, and next +morning<br> + manipulating Europe as a young girl might amuse herself by +splashing<br> + water in her bath! Hypocritical and generous; loving tawdriness +and<br> + simplicity; devoid of taste, but protecting the arts; and in +spite of<br> + these antitheses, really great in everything by instinct or +by<br> + temperament; Caesar at five-and-twenty, Cromwell at thirty; and +then,<br> + like my grocer buried in Pere Lachaise, a good husband and a +good<br> + father. In short, he improvised public works, empires, kings, +codes,<br> + verses, a romance--and all with more range than precision. Did +he not<br> + aim at making all Europe France? And after making us weigh on +the<br> + earth in such a way as to change the laws of gravitation, he +left us<br> + poorer than on the day when he first laid hands on us; while he, +who<br> + had taken an empire by his name, lost his name on the frontier +of his<br> + empire in a sea of blood and soldiers. A man all thought and +all<br> + action, who comprehended Desaix and Fouche."</p> + +<br> +"All despotism and all justice at the right moments. The true +king!"<br> +said de Marsay. + +<p>"Ah! vat a pleashre it is to dichest vile you talk," said +Baron de<br> + Nucingen.</p> + +<p>"But do you suppose that the treat we are giving you is a +common one?"<br> + asked Joseph Bridau. "If you had to pay for the charms of +conversation<br> + as you do for those of dancing or of music, your fortune would +be<br> + inadequate! There is no second performance of the same flash of +wit."</p> + +<p>"And are we really so much deteriorated as these gentlemen +think?"<br> + said the Princesse de Cadignan, addressing the women with a +smile at<br> + once sceptical and ironical. "Because, in these days, under a +regime<br> + which makes everything small, you prefer small dishes, small +rooms,<br> + small pictures, small articles, small newspapers, small books, +does<br> + that prove that women too have grown smaller? Why should the +human<br> + heart change because you change your coat? In all ages the +passions<br> + remain the same. I know cases of beautiful devotion, of +sublime<br> + sufferings, which lack the publicity--the glory, if you +choose--which<br> + formerly gave lustre to the errors of some women. But though one +may<br> + not have saved a King of France, one is not the less an Agnes +Sorel.<br> + Do you believe that our dear Marquise d'Espard is not the peer +of<br> + Madame Doublet, or Madame du Deffant, in whose rooms so much +evil was<br> + spoken and done? Is not Taglioni a match for Camargo? or +Malibran the<br> + equal of Saint-Huberti? Are not our poets superior to those of +the<br> + eighteenth century? If at this moment, through the fault of +the<br> + Grocers who govern us, we have not a style of our own, had not +the<br> + Empire its distinguishing stamp as the age of Louis XV. had, and +was<br> + not its splendor fabulous? Have the sciences lost anything?"</p> + +<p>"I am quite of your opinion, madame; the women of this age are +truly<br> + great," replied the Comte de Vandenesse. "When posterity shall +have<br> + followed us, will not Madame Recamier appear in proportions as +fine as<br> + those of the most beautiful women of the past? We have made so +much<br> + history that historians will be lacking. The age of Louis XIV. +had but<br> + one Madame de Sevigne; we have a thousand now in Paris who +certainly<br> + write better than she did, and who do not publish their +letters.<br> + Whether the Frenchwoman be called 'perfect lady,' or great lady, +she<br> + will always be <i>the</i> woman among women.</p> + +<p>"Emile Blondet has given us a picture of the fascinations of a +woman<br> + of the day; but, at need, this creature who bridles or shows +off, who<br> + chirps out the ideas of Mr. This and Mr. That, would be heroic. +And it<br> + must be said, your faults, mesdames, are all the more +poetical,<br> + because they must always and under all circumstances be +surrounded by<br> + greater perils. I have seen much of the world, I have studied +it<br> + perhaps too late; but in cases where the illegality of your +feelings<br> + might be excused, I have always observed the effects of I know +not<br> + what chance--which you may call Providence--inevitably +overwhelming<br> + such as we consider light women."</p> + +<p>"I hope," said Madame de Vandenesse, "that we can be great in +other<br> + ways----"</p> + +<p>"Oh, let the Comte de Vandenesse preach to us!" exclaimed +Madame de<br> + Serizy.</p> + +<p>"With all the more reason because he has preached a great deal +by<br> + example," said the Baronne de Nucingen.</p> + +<p>"On my honor!" said General de Montriveau, "in all the +dramas--a word<br> + you are very fond of," he said, looking at Blondet--"in which +the<br> + finger of God has been visible, the most frightful I ever knew +was<br> + very near being by my act----"</p> + +<p>"Well, tell us all about it!" cried Lady Barimore; "I love +to<br> + shudder!"</p> + +<p>"It is the taste of a virtuous woman," replied de Marsay, +looking at<br> + Lord Dudley's lovely daughter.</p> + +<p>"During the campaign of 1812," General de Montriveau began, "I +was the<br> + involuntary cause of a terrible disaster which may be of use to +you,<br> + Doctor Bianchon," turning to me, "since, while devoting yourself +to<br> + the human body, you concern yourself a good deal with the mind; +it may<br> + tend to solve some of the problems of the will.</p> + +<p>"I was going through my second campaign; I enjoyed danger, and +laughed<br> + at everything, like the young and foolish lieutenant of +artillery that<br> + I was. When we reached the Beresina, the army had, as you know, +lost<br> + all discipline, and had forgotten military obedience. It was a +medley<br> + of men of all nations, instinctively making their way from north +to<br> + south. The soldiers would drive a general in rags and bare-foot +away<br> + from their fire if he brought neither wood nor victuals. After +the<br> + passage of this famous river disorder did not diminish. I had +come<br> + quietly and alone, without food, out of the marshes of Zembin, +and was<br> + wandering in search of a house where I might be taken in. +Finding none<br> + or driven away from those I came across, happily towards evening +I<br> + perceived a wretched little Polish farm, of which nothing can +give you<br> + any idea unless you have seen the wooden houses of Lower +Normandy, or<br> + the poorest farm-buildings of la Beauce. These dwellings consist +of a<br> + single room, with one end divided off by a wooden partition, +the<br> + smaller division serving as a store-room for forage.</p> + +<p>"In the darkness of twilight I could just see a faint smoke +rising<br> + above this house. Hoping to find there some comrades more<br> + compassionate than those I had hitherto addressed, I boldly +walked as<br> + far as the farm. On going in, I found the table laid. +Several<br> + officers, and with them a woman--a common sight enough--were +eating<br> + potatoes, some horseflesh broiled over the charcoal, and some +frozen<br> + beetroots. I recognized among the company two or three +artillery<br> + captains of the regiment in which I had first served. I was +welcomed<br> + with a shout of acclamation, which would have amazed me greatly +on the<br> + other side of the Beresina; but at this moment the cold was +less<br> + intense; my fellow-officers were resting, they were warm, they +had<br> + food, and the room, strewn with trusses of straw, gave the +promise of<br> + a delightful night. We did not ask for so much in those days. +My<br> + comrades could be philanthropists <i>gratis</i>--one of the +commonest ways<br> + of being philanthropic. I sat down to eat on one of the bundles +of<br> + straw.</p> + +<p>"At the end of the table, by the side of the door opening into +the<br> + smaller room full of straw and hay, sat my old colonel, one of +the<br> + most extraordinary men I ever saw among all the mixed collection +of<br> + men it has been my lot to meet. He was an Italian. Now, whenever +human<br> + nature is truly fine in the lands of the South, it is really +sublime.<br> + I do not know whether you have ever observed the extreme +fairness of<br> + Italians when they are fair. It is exquisite, especially under +an<br> + artificial light. When I read the fantastical portrait of +Colonel<br> + Oudet sketched by Charles Nodier, I found my own sensations in +every<br> + one of his elegant phrases. Italian, then, as were most of +the<br> + officers of his regiment, which had, in fact, been borrowed by +the<br> + Emperor from Eugene's army, my colonel was a tall man, at least +eight<br> + or nine inches above the standard, and was admirably +proportioned--a<br> + little stout perhaps, but prodigiously powerful, active, and +clean-<br> + limbed as a greyhound. His black hair in abundant curls showed +up his<br> + complexion, as white as a woman's; he had small hands, a shapely +foot,<br> + a pleasant mouth, and an aquiline nose delicately formed, of +which the<br> + tip used to become naturally pinched and white whenever he was +angry,<br> + as happened often. His irascibility was so far beyond belief +that I<br> + will tell you nothing about it; you will have the opportunity +of<br> + judging of it. No one could be calm in his presence. I alone, +perhaps,<br> + was not afraid of him; he had indeed taken such a singular fancy +to me<br> + that he thought everything I did right. When he was in a rage +his brow<br> + was knit and the muscles of the middle of his forehead set in a +delta,<br> + or, to be more explicit, in Redgauntlet's horseshoe. This mark +was,<br> + perhaps, even more terrifying than the magnetic flashes of his +blue<br> + eyes. His whole frame quivered, and his strength, great as it +was in<br> + his normal state, became almost unbounded.</p> + +<p>"He spoke with a strong guttural roll. His voice, at least as +powerful<br> + as that of Charles Nordier's Oudet, threw an incredible fulness +of<br> + tone into the syllable or the consonant in which this burr +was<br> + sounded. Though this faulty pronunciation was at times a grace, +when<br> + commanding his men, or when he was excited, you cannot imagine, +unless<br> + you had heard it, what force was expressed by this accent, which +at<br> + Paris is so common. When the Colonel was quiescent, his blue +eyes were<br> + angelically sweet, and his smooth brow had a most charming +expression.<br> + On parade, or with the army of Italy, not a man could compare +with<br> + him. Indeed, d'Orsay himself, the handsome d'Orsay, was eclipsed +by<br> + our colonel on the occasion of the last review held by Napoleon +before<br> + the invasion of Russia.</p> + +<p>"Everything was in contrasts in this exceptional man. Passion +lives on<br> + contrast. Hence you need not ask whether he exerted over women +the<br> + irresistible influences to which our nature yields"--and the +general<br> + looked at the Princesse de Cadignan--"as vitreous matter is +moulded<br> + under the pipe of the glass-blower; still, by a singular +fatality--an<br> + observer might perhaps explain the phenomenon--the Colonel was +not a<br> + lady-killer, or was indifferent to such successes.</p> + +<p>"To give you an idea of his violence, I will tell you in a few +words<br> + what I once saw him do in a paroxysm of fury. We were dragging +our<br> + guns up a very narrow road, bordered by a somewhat high slope on +one<br> + side, and by thickets on the other. When we were half-way up we +met<br> + another regiment of artillery, its colonel marching at the head. +This<br> + colonel wanted to make the captain who was at the head of our +foremost<br> + battery back down again. The captain, of course, refused; but +the<br> + colonel of the other regiment signed to his foremost battery +to<br> + advance, and in spite of the care the driver took to keep among +the<br> + scrub, the wheel of the first gun struck our captain's right leg +and<br> + broke it, throwing him over on the near side of his horse. All +this<br> + was the work of a moment. Our Colonel, who was but a little way +off,<br> + guessed that there was a quarrel; he galloped up, riding among +the<br> + guns at the risk of falling with his horse's four feet in the +air, and<br> + reached the spot, face to face with the other colonel, at the +very<br> + moment when the captain fell, calling out 'Help!' No, our +Italian<br> + colonel was no longer human! Foam like the froth of champagne +rose to<br> + his lips; he roared inarticulately like a lion. Incapable of +uttering<br> + a word, or even a cry, he made a terrific signal to his +antagonist,<br> + pointing to the wood and drawing his sword. The two colonels +went<br> + aside. In two seconds we saw our Colonel's opponent stretched on +the<br> + ground, his skull split in two. The soldiers of his regiment +backed--<br> + yes, by heaven, and pretty quickly too.</p> + +<p>"The captain, who had been so nearly crushed, and who lay +yelping in<br> + the puddle where the gun carriage had thrown him, had an Italian +wife,<br> + a beautiful Sicilian of Messina, who was not indifferent to +our<br> + Colonel. This circumstance had aggravated his rage. He was +pledged to<br> + protect the husband, bound to defend him as he would have +defended the<br> + woman herself.</p> + +<p>"Now, in the hovel beyond Zembin, where I was so well +received, this<br> + captain was sitting opposite to me, and his wife was at the +other end<br> + of the table, facing the Colonel. This Sicilian was a little +woman<br> + named Rosina, very dark, but with all the fire of the Southern +sun in<br> + her black almond-shaped eyes. At this moment she was deplorably +thin;<br> + her face was covered with dust, like fruit exposed to the +drought of a<br> + highroad. Scarcely clothed in rags, exhausted by marches, her +hair in<br> + disorder, and clinging together under a piece of a shawl tied +close<br> + over her head, still she had the graces of a woman; her +movements were<br> + engaging, her small rose mouth and white teeth, the outline of +her<br> + features and figure, charms which misery, cold, and neglect had +not<br> + altogether defaced, still suggested love to any man who could +think of<br> + a woman. Rosina had one of those frames which are fragile in<br> + appearance, but wiry and full of spring. Her husband, a +gentleman of<br> + Piedmont, had a face expressive of ironical simplicity, if it +is<br> + allowable to ally the two words. Brave and well informed, he +seemed to<br> + know nothing of the connections which had subsisted between his +wife<br> + and the Colonel for three years past. I ascribed this unconcern +to<br> + Italian manners, or to some domestic secret; yet there was in +the<br> + man's countenance one feature which always filled me with +involuntary<br> + distrust. His under lip, which was thin and very restless, +turned down<br> + at the corners instead of turning up, and this, as I thought, +betrayed<br> + a streak of cruelty in a character which seemed so phlegmatic +and<br> + indolent.</p> + +<p>"As you may suppose the conversation was not very sparkling +when I<br> + went in. My weary comrades ate in silence; of course, they asked +me<br> + some questions, and we related our misadventures, mingled +with<br> + reflections on the campaign, the generals, their mistakes, +the<br> + Russians, and the cold. A minute after my arrival the colonel, +having<br> + finished his meagre meal, wiped his moustache, bid us +good-night, shot<br> + a black look at the Italian woman, saying, 'Rosina?' and then, +without<br> + waiting for a reply, went into the little barn full of hay, to +bed.<br> + The meaning of the Colonel's utterance was self-evident. The +young<br> + wife replied by an indescribable gesture, expressing all the +annoyance<br> + she could not feel at seeing her thralldom thus flaunted without +human<br> + decency, and the offence to her dignity as a woman, and to +her<br> + husband. But there was, too, in the rigid setting of her +features and<br> + the tight knitting of her brows a sort of presentiment; perhaps +she<br> + foresaw her fate. Rosina remained quietly in her place.</p> + +<p>"A minute later, and apparently when the Colonel was snug in +his couch<br> + of straw or hay, he repeated, 'Rosina?'</p> + +<p>"The tone of this second call was even more brutally +questioning than<br> + the first. The Colonel's strong burr, and the length which the +Italian<br> + language allows to be given to vowels and the final +syllable,<br> + concentrated all the man's despotism, impatience, and strength +of<br> + will. Rosina turned pale, but she rose, passed behind us, and +went to<br> + the Colonel.</p> + +<p>"All the party sat in utter silence; I, unluckily, after +looking at<br> + them all, began to laugh, and then they all laughed too.--'<i>Tu +ridi</i>?<br> + --you laugh?' said the husband.</p> + +<p>" 'On my honor, old comrade,' said I, becoming serious again, +'I<br> + confess that I was wrong; I ask your pardon a thousand times, +and if<br> + you are not satisfied by my apologies I am ready to give you<br> + satisfaction.'</p> + +<p>" 'Oh! it is not you who are wrong, it is I!' he replied +coldly.</p> + +<p>"Thereupon we all lay down in the room, and before long all +were sound<br> + asleep.</p> + +<p>"Next morning each one, without rousing his neighbor or +seeking<br> + companionship, set out again on his way, with that selfishness +which<br> + made our rout one of the most horrible dramas of +self-seeking,<br> + melancholy, and horror which ever was enacted under heaven.<br> + Nevertheless, at about seven or eight hundred paces from our +shelter<br> + we, most of us, met again and walked on together, like geese led +in<br> + flocks by a child's wilful tyranny. The same necessity urged us +all.</p> + +<p>"Having reached a knoll where we could still see the farmhouse +where<br> + we had spent the night, we heard sounds resembling the roar of +lions<br> + in the desert, the bellowing of bulls--no, it was a noise which +can be<br> + compared to no known cry. And yet, mingling with this horrible +and<br> + ominous roar, we could hear a woman's feeble scream. We all +looked<br> + round, seized by I know not what impulse of terror; we no longer +saw<br> + the house, but a huge bonfire. The farmhouse had been +barricaded, and<br> + was in flames. Swirls of smoke borne on the wind brought us +hoarse<br> + cries and an indescribable pungent smell. A few yards behind, +the<br> + captain was quietly approaching to join our caravan; we gazed at +him<br> + in silence, for no one dared question him; but he, understanding +our<br> + curiosity, pointed to his breast with the forefinger of his +right<br> + hand, and, waving the left in the direction of the fire, he +said,<br> + '<i>Son'io</i>.'</p> + +<p>"We all walked on without saying a word to him."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing more terrible than the revolt of a sheep," +said de<br> + Marsay.</p> + +<p>"It would be frightful to let us leave with this horrible +picture in<br> + our memory," said Madame de Montcornet. "I shall dream of +it----"</p> + +<p>"And what was the punishment of Monsieur de Marsay's 'First'?" +said<br> + Lord Dudley, smiling.</p> + +<p>"When the English are in jest, their foils have the buttons +on," said<br> + Blondet.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Bianchon can tell us, for he saw her dying," replied +de<br> + Marsay, turning to me.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said I; "and her end was one of the most beautiful I +ever saw.<br> + The Duke and I had spent the night by the dying woman's +pillow;<br> + pulmonary consumption, in the last stage, left no hope; she had +taken<br> + the sacrament the day before. The Duke had fallen asleep. The +Duchess,<br> + waking at about four in the morning, signed to me in the most +touching<br> + way, with a friendly smile, to bid me leave him to rest, and +she<br> + meanwhile was about to die. She had become incredibly thin, but +her<br> + face had preserved its really sublime outline and features. Her +pallor<br> + made her skin look like porcelain with a light within. Her +bright eyes<br> + and color contrasted with this languidly elegant complexion, and +her<br> + countenance was full of expressive calm. She seemed to pity the +Duke,<br> + and the feeling had its origin in a lofty tenderness which, as +death<br> + approached, seemed to know no bounds. The silence was absolute. +The<br> + room, softly lighted by a lamp, looked like every sickroom at +the hour<br> + of death.</p> + +<p>"At this moment the clock struck. The Duke awoke, and was in +despair<br> + at having fallen asleep. I did not see the gesture of impatience +by<br> + which he manifested the regret he felt at having lost sight of +his<br> + wife for a few of the last minutes vouchsafed to him; but it is +quite<br> + certain that any one but the dying woman might have +misunderstood it.<br> + A busy statesman, always thinking of the interests of France, +the Duke<br> + had a thousand odd ways on the surface, such as often lead to a +man of<br> + genius being mistaken for a madman, and of which the explanation +lies<br> + in the exquisiteness and exacting needs of their intellect. He +came to<br> + seat himself in an armchair by his wife's side, and looked +fixedly at<br> + her. The dying woman put her hand out a little way, took her +husband's<br> + and clasped it feebly; and in a low but agitated voice she said, +'My<br> + poor dear, who is left to understand you now?' Then she died, +looking<br> + at him."</p> + +<br> +"The stories the doctor tells us," said the Comte de +Vandenesse,<br> +"always leave a deep impression." + +<p>"But a sweet one," said Mademoiselle des Touches, rising.</p> + +<p>PARIS, June 1839-42.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<h3>ADDENDUM</h3> + +<p>The following personages appear in other stories of the Human +Comedy.</p> + +<p>Bianchon, Horace<br> + Father Goriot<br> + The Atheist's Mass<br> + Cesar Birotteau<br> + The Commission in Lunacy<br> + Lost Illusions<br> + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris<br> + A Bachelor's Establishment<br> + The Secrets of a Princess<br> + The Government Clerks<br> + Pierrette<br> + A Study of Woman<br> + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life<br> + Honorine<br> + The Seamy Side of History<br> + The Magic Skin<br> + A Second Home<br> + A Prince of Bohemia<br> + Letters of Two Brides<br> + The Muse of the Department<br> + The Imaginary Mistress<br> + The Middle Classes<br> + Cousin Betty<br> + The Country Parson<br> + In addition, M. Bianchon narrated the following:<br> + La Grande Breteche</p> + +<p>Blondet, Emile<br> + Jealousies of a Country Town<br> + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris<br> + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life<br> + Modeste Mignon<br> + The Secrets of a Princess<br> + A Daughter of Eve<br> + The Firm of Nucingen<br> + The Peasantry</p> + +<p>Blondet, Virginie (Madame Montcornet)<br> + Jealousies of a Country Town<br> + The Secrets of a Princess<br> + The Peasantry<br> + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris<br> + The Member for Arcis<br> + A Daughter of Eve</p> + +<p>Bridau, Joseph<br> + The Purse<br> + A Bachelor's Establishment<br> + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris<br> + A Start in Life<br> + Modeste Mignon<br> + Pierre Grassou<br> + Letters of Two Brides<br> + Cousin Betty<br> + The Member for Arcis</p> + +<p>Canalis, Constant-Cyr-Melchior, Baron de<br> + Letters of Two Brides<br> + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris<br> + Modeste Mignon<br> + The Magic Skin<br> + A Start in Life<br> + Beatrix<br> + The Unconscious Humorists<br> + The Member for Arcis</p> + +<p>Dudley, Lord<br> + The Lily of the Valley<br> + The Thirteen<br> + A Man of Business<br> + A Daughter of Eve</p> + +<p>Espard, Jeanne-Clementine-Athenais de Blamont-Chauvry, +Marquise d'<br> + The Commission in Lunacy<br> + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris<br> + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life<br> + Letters of Two Brides<br> + The Gondreville Mystery<br> + The Secrets of a Princess<br> + A Daughter of Eve<br> + Beatrix</p> + +<p>Laginski, Comte Adam Mitgislas<br> + The Imaginary Mistress<br> + Cousin Betty</p> + +<p>Marsay, Henri de<br> + The Thirteen<br> + The Unconscious Humorists<br> + The Lily of the Valley<br> + Father Goriot<br> + Jealousies of a Country Town<br> + Ursule Mirouet<br> + A Marriage Settlement<br> + Lost Illusions<br> + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris<br> + Letters of Two Brides<br> + The Ball at Sceaux<br> + Modeste Mignon<br> + The Secrets of a Princess<br> + The Gondreville Mystery<br> + A Daughter of Eve</p> + +<p>Maufrigneuse, Duchesse de<br> + The Secrets of a Princess<br> + Modeste Mignon<br> + Jealousies of a Country Town<br> + The Muse of the Department<br> + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life<br> + Letters of Two Brides<br> + The Gondreville Mystery<br> + The Member for Arcis</p> + +<p>Montriveau, General Marquis Armand de<br> + The Thirteen<br> + Father Goriot<br> + Lost Illusions<br> + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris<br> + Pierrette<br> + The Member for Arcis</p> + +<p>Nucingen, Baron Frederic de<br> + The Firm of Nucingen<br> + Father Goriot<br> + Pierrette<br> + Cesar Birotteau<br> + Lost Illusions<br> + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris<br> + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life<br> + The Secrets of a Princess<br> + A Man of Business<br> + Cousin Betty<br> + The Muse of the Department<br> + The Unconscious Humorists</p> + +<p>Nucingen, Baronne Delphine de<br> + Father Goriot<br> + The Thirteen<br> + Eugenie Grandet<br> + Cesar Birotteau<br> + Melmoth Reconciled<br> + Lost Illusions<br> + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris<br> + The Commission in Lunacy<br> + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life<br> + Modeste Mignon<br> + The Firm of Nucingen<br> + A Daughter of Eve<br> + The Member for Arcis</p> + +<p>Portenduere, Vicomtesse Savinien de<br> + Ursule Mirouet<br> + Beatrix</p> + +<p>Rastignac, Eugene de<br> + Father Goriot<br> + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris<br> + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life<br> + The Ball at Sceaux<br> + The Commission in Lunacy<br> + A Study of Woman<br> + The Magic Skin<br> + The Secrets of a Princess<br> + A Daughter of Eve<br> + The Gondreville Mystery<br> + The Firm of Nucingen<br> + Cousin Betty<br> + The Member for Arcis<br> + The Unconscious Humorists</p> + +<p>Ronquerolles, Marquis de<br> + The Imaginary Mistress<br> + The Peasantry<br> + Ursule Mirouet<br> + A Woman of Thirty<br> + The Thirteen<br> + The Member for Arcis</p> + +<p>Serizy, Comtesse de<br> + A Start in Life<br> + The Thirteen<br> + Ursule Mirouet<br> + A Woman of Thirty<br> + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life</p> + +<p>The Imaginary Mistress</p> + +<p>Touches, Mademoiselle Felicite des<br> + Beatrix<br> + Lost Illusions<br> + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris<br> + A Bachelor's Establishment<br> + A Daughter of Eve<br> + Honorine<br> + Beatrix<br> + The Muse of the Department</p> + +<p>Vandenesse, Comte Felix de<br> + The Lily of the Valley<br> + Lost Illusions<br> + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris<br> + Cesar Birotteau<br> + Letters of Two Brides<br> + A Start in Life<br> + The Marriage Settlement<br> + The Secrets of a Princess<br> + The Gondreville Mystery<br> + A Daughter of Eve</p> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + +End of Project Gutenberg's Another Study of Woman, by Honore de Balzac + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANOTHER STUDY OF WOMAN *** + +This file should be named nswmn10h.htm or nswmn10h.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, nswmn11h.txt +VERSIONS based on separate 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