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diff --git a/1826-h/1826-h.htm b/1826-h/1826-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fcc8414 --- /dev/null +++ b/1826-h/1826-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2121 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Sarrasine, by Honore de Balzac + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sarrasine, by Honore de Balzac + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sarrasine + +Author: Honore de Balzac + +Translator: Clara Bell and Others + +Release Date: March 3, 2010 [EBook #1826] +Last Updated: November 23, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SARRASINE *** + + + + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + SARRASINE + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Honore de Balzac + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated by Clara Bell and others + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + DEDICATION<br /><br /> To Monsieur Charles Bernard du Grail.<br /> + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>SARRASINE</b> </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0002"> ADDENDUM </a> + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + SARRASINE + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + I was buried in one of those profound reveries to which everybody, even a + frivolous man, is subject in the midst of the most uproarious festivities. + The clock on the Elysee-Bourbon had just struck midnight. Seated in a + window recess and concealed behind the undulating folds of a curtain of + watered silk, I was able to contemplate at my leisure the garden of the + mansion at which I was passing the evening. The trees, being partly + covered with snow, were outlined indistinctly against the grayish + background formed by a cloudy sky, barely whitened by the moon. Seen + through the medium of that strange atmosphere, they bore a vague + resemblance to spectres carelessly enveloped in their shrouds, a gigantic + image of the famous <i>Dance of Death</i>. Then, turning in the other + direction, I could gaze admiringly upon the dance of the living! a + magnificent salon, with walls of silver and gold, with gleaming + chandeliers, and bright with the light of many candles. There the + loveliest, the wealthiest women in Paris, bearers of the proudest titles, + moved hither and thither, fluttered from room to room in swarms, stately + and gorgeous, dazzling with diamonds; flowers on their heads and breasts, + in their hair, scattered over their dresses or lying in garlands at their + feet. Light quiverings of the body, voluptuous movements, made the laces + and gauzes and silks swirl about their graceful figures. Sparkling glances + here and there eclipsed the lights and the blaze of the diamonds, and + fanned the flame of hearts already burning too brightly. I detected also + significant nods of the head for lovers and repellent attitudes for + husbands. The exclamation of the card-players at every unexpected <i>coup</i>, + the jingle of gold, mingled with music and the murmur of conversation; and + to put the finishing touch to the vertigo of that multitude, intoxicated + by all the seductions the world can offer, a perfume-laden atmosphere and + general exaltation acted upon their over-wrought imaginations. Thus, at my + right was the depressing, silent image of death; at my left the decorous + bacchanalia of life; on the one side nature, cold and gloomy, and in + mourning garb; on the other side, man on pleasure bent. And, standing on + the borderland of those two incongruous pictures, which repeated thousands + of times in diverse ways, make Paris the most entertaining and most + philosophical city in the world, I played a mental <i>macedoine</i>[*], + half jesting, half funereal. With my left foot I kept time to the music, + and the other felt as if it were in a tomb. My leg was, in fact, frozen by + one of those draughts which congeal one half of the body while the other + suffers from the intense heat of the salons—a state of things not + unusual at balls. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [*] <i>Macedoine</i>, in the sense in which it is here used, is a + game, or rather a series of games, of cards, each player, + when it is his turn to deal, selecting the game to be + played. +</pre> + <p> + “Monsieur de Lanty has not owned this house very long, has he?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! It is nearly ten years since the Marechal de Carigliano sold it + to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “These people must have an enormous fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “They surely must.” + </p> + <p> + “What a magnificent party! It is almost insolent in its splendor.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you imagine they are as rich as Monsieur de Nucingen or Monsieur de + Gondreville?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, don’t you know?” + </p> + <p> + I leaned forward and recognized the two persons who were talking as + members of that inquisitive genus which, in Paris, busies itself + exclusively with the <i>Whys</i> and <i>Hows</i>. <i>Where does he come + from? Who are they? What’s the matter with him? What has she done?</i> + They lowered their voices and walked away in order to talk more at their + ease on some retired couch. Never was a more promising mine laid open to + seekers after mysteries. No one knew from what country the Lanty family + came, nor to what source—commerce, extortion, piracy, or inheritance—they + owed a fortune estimated at several millions. All the members of the + family spoke Italian, French, Spanish, English, and German, with + sufficient fluency to lead one to suppose that they had lived long among + those different peoples. Were they gypsies? were they buccaneers? + </p> + <p> + “Suppose they’re the devil himself,” said divers young politicians, “they + entertain mighty well.” + </p> + <p> + “The Comte de Lanty may have plundered some <i>Casbah</i> for all I care; + I would like to marry his daughter!” cried a philosopher. + </p> + <p> + Who would not have married Marianina, a girl of sixteen, whose beauty + realized the fabulous conceptions of Oriental poets! Like the Sultan’s + daughter in the tale of the <i>Wonderful Lamp</i>, she should have + remained always veiled. Her singing obscured the imperfect talents of the + Malibrans, the Sontags, and the Fodors, in whom some one dominant quality + always mars the perfection of the whole; whereas Marianina combined in + equal degree purity of tone, exquisite feeling, accuracy of time and + intonation, science, soul, and delicacy. She was the type of that hidden + poesy, the link which connects all the arts and which always eludes those + who seek it. Modest, sweet, well-informed, and clever, none could eclipse + Marianina unless it was her mother. + </p> + <p> + Have you ever met one of those women whose startling beauty defies the + assaults of time, and who seem at thirty-six more desirable than they + could have been fifteen years earlier? Their faces are impassioned souls; + they fairly sparkle; each feature gleams with intelligence; each possesses + a brilliancy of its own, especially in the light. Their captivating eyes + attract or repel, speak or are silent; their gait is artlessly seductive; + their voices unfold the melodious treasures of the most coquettishly sweet + and tender tones. Praise of their beauty, based upon comparisons, flatters + the most sensitive self-esteem. A movement of their eyebrows, the + slightest play of the eye, the curling of the lip, instils a sort of + terror in those whose lives and happiness depend upon their favor. A + maiden inexperienced in love and easily moved by words may allow herself + to be seduced; but in dealing with women of this sort, a man must be able, + like M. de Jaucourt, to refrain from crying out when, in hiding him in a + closet, the lady’s maid crushes two of his fingers in the crack of a door. + To love one of these omnipotent sirens is to stake one’s life, is it not? + And that, perhaps, is why we love them so passionately! Such was the + Comtesse de Lanty. + </p> + <p> + Filippo, Marianina’s brother, inherited, as did his sister, the Countess’ + marvelous beauty. To tell the whole story in a word, that young man was a + living image of Antinous, with somewhat slighter proportions. But how well + such a slender and delicate figure accords with youth, when an olive + complexion, heavy eyebrows, and the gleam of a velvety eye promise virile + passions, noble ideas for the future! If Filippo remained in the hearts of + young women as a type of manly beauty, he likewise remained in the memory + of all mothers as the best match in France. + </p> + <p> + The beauty, the great wealth, the intellectual qualities, of these two + children came entirely from their mother. The Comte de Lanty was a short, + thin, ugly little man, as dismal as a Spaniard, as great a bore as a + banker. He was looked upon, however, as a profound politician, perhaps + because he rarely laughed, and was always quoting M. de Metternich or + Wellington. + </p> + <p> + This mysterious family had all the attractiveness of a poem by Lord Byron, + whose difficult passages were translated differently by each person in + fashionable society; a poem that grew more obscure and more sublime from + strophe to strophe. The reserve which Monsieur and Madame de Lanty + maintained concerning their origin, their past lives, and their relations + with the four quarters of the globe would not, of itself, have been for + long a subject of wonderment in Paris. In no other country, perhaps, is + Vespasian’s maxim more thoroughly understood. Here gold pieces, even when + stained with blood or mud, betray nothing, and represent everything. + Provided that good society knows the amount of your fortune, you are + classed among those figures which equal yours, and no one asks to see your + credentials, because everybody knows how little they cost. In a city where + social problems are solved by algebraic equations, adventurers have many + chances in their favor. Even if this family were of gypsy extraction, it + was so wealthy, so attractive, that fashionable society could well afford + to overlook its little mysteries. But, unfortunately, the enigmatical + history of the Lanty family offered a perpetual subject of curiosity, not + unlike that aroused by the novels of Anne Radcliffe. + </p> + <p> + People of an observing turn, of the sort who are bent upon finding out + where you buy your candelabra, or who ask you what rent you pay when they + are pleased with your apartments, had noticed, from time to time, the + appearance of an extraordinary personage at the fetes, concerts, balls, + and routs given by the countess. It was a man. The first time that he was + seen in the house was at a concert, when he seemed to have been drawn to + the salon by Marianina’s enchanting voice. + </p> + <p> + “I have been cold for the last minute or two,” said a lady near the door + to her neighbor. + </p> + <p> + The stranger, who was standing near the speaker, moved away. + </p> + <p> + “This is very strange! now I am warm,” she said, after his departure. + “Perhaps you will call me mad, but I cannot help thinking that my + neighbor, the gentleman in black who just walked away, was the cause of my + feeling cold.” + </p> + <p> + Ere long the exaggeration to which people in society are naturally + inclined, produced a large and growing crop of the most amusing ideas, the + most curious expressions, the most absurd fables concerning this + mysterious individual. Without being precisely a vampire, a ghoul, a + fictitious man, a sort of Faust or Robin des Bois, he partook of the + nature of all these anthropomorphic conceptions, according to those + persons who were addicted to the fantastic. Occasionally some German would + take for realities these ingenious jests of Parisian evil-speaking. The + stranger was simply <i>an old man</i>. Some young men, who were accustomed + to decide the future of Europe every morning in a few fashionable phrases, + chose to see in the stranger some great criminal, the possessor of + enormous wealth. Novelists described the old man’s life and gave some + really interesting details of the atrocities committed by him while he was + in the service of the Prince of Mysore. Bankers, men of a more positive + nature, devised a specious fable. + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” they would say, shrugging their broad shoulders pityingly, “that + little old fellow’s a <i>Genoese head</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “If it is not an impertinent question, monsieur, would you have the + kindness to tell me what you mean by a Genoese head?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean, monsieur, that he is a man upon whose life enormous sums depend, + and whose good health is undoubtedly essential to the continuance of this + family’s income. I remember that I once heard a mesmerist, at Madame + d’Espard’s, undertake to prove by very specious historical deductions, + that this old man, if put under the magnifying glass, would turn out to be + the famous Balsamo, otherwise called Cagliostro. According to this modern + alchemist, the Sicilian had escaped death, and amused himself making gold + for his grandchildren. And the Bailli of Ferette declared that he + recognized in this extraordinary personage the Comte de Saint-Germain.” + </p> + <p> + Such nonsense as this, put forth with the assumption of superior + cleverness, with the air of raillery, which in our day characterize a + society devoid of faith, kept alive vague suspicions concerning the Lanty + family. At last, by a strange combination of circumstances, the members of + that family justified the conjectures of society by adopting a decidedly + mysterious course of conduct with this old man, whose life was, in a + certain sense, kept hidden from all investigations. + </p> + <p> + If he crossed the threshold of the apartment he was supposed to occupy in + the Lanty mansion, his appearance always caused a great sensation in the + family. One would have supposed that it was an event of the greatest + importance. Only Filippo, Marianina, Madame de Lanty, and an old servant + enjoyed the privilege of assisting the unknown to walk, to rise, to sit + down. Each one of them kept a close watch on his slightest movements. It + seemed as if he were some enchanted person upon whom the happiness, the + life, or the fortune of all depended. Was it fear or affection? Society + could discover no indication which enabled them to solve this problem. + Concealed for months at a time in the depths of an unknown sanctuary, this + familiar spirit suddenly emerged, furtively as it were, unexpectedly, and + appeared in the salons like the fairies of old, who alighted from their + winged dragons to disturb festivities to which they had not been invited. + Only the most experienced observers could divine the anxiety, at such + times, of the masters of the house, who were peculiarly skilful in + concealing their feelings. But sometimes, while dancing a quadrille, the + too ingenuous Marianina would cast a terrified glance at the old man, whom + she watched closely from the circle of dancers. Or perhaps Filippo would + leave his place and glide through the crowd to where he stood, and remain + beside him, affectionate and watchful, as if the touch of man, or the + faintest breath, would shatter that extraordinary creature. The countess + would try to draw nearer to him without apparently intending to join him; + then, assuming a manner and an expression in which servility and + affection, submissiveness and tyranny, were equally noticeable, she would + say two or three words, to which the old man almost always deferred; and + he would disappear, led, or I might better say carried away, by her. If + Madame de Lanty were not present, the Count would employ a thousand ruses + to reach his side; but it always seemed as if he found difficulty in + inducing him to listen, and he treated him like a spoiled child, whose + mother gratifies his whims and at the same time suspects mutiny. Some + prying persons having ventured to question the Comte de Lanty + indiscreetly, that cold and reserved individual seemed not to understand + their questions. And so, after many attempts, which the circumspection of + all the members of the family rendered fruitless, no one sought to + discover a secret so well guarded. Society spies, triflers, and + politicians, weary of the strife, ended by ceasing to concern themselves + about the mystery. + </p> + <p> + But at that moment, it may be, there were in those gorgeous salons + philosophers who said to themselves, as they discussed an ice or a + sherbet, or placed their empty punch glasses on a tray: + </p> + <p> + “I should not be surprised to learn that these people are knaves. That old + fellow who keeps out of sight and appears only at the equinoxes or + solstices, looks to me exactly like an assassin.” + </p> + <p> + “Or a bankrupt.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s very little difference. To destroy a man’s fortune is worse than + to kill the man himself.” + </p> + <p> + “I bet twenty louis, monsieur; there are forty due me.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, monsieur; there are only thirty left on the cloth.” + </p> + <p> + “Just see what a mixed company there is! One can’t play cards in peace.” + </p> + <p> + “Very true. But it’s almost six months since we saw the Spirit. Do you + think he’s a living being?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, barely.” + </p> + <p> + These last remarks were made in my neighborhood by persons whom I did not + know, and who passed out of hearing just as I was summarizing in one last + thought my reflections, in which black and white, life and death, were + inextricably mingled. My wandering imagination, like my eyes, contemplated + alternately the festivities, which had now reached the climax of their + splendor, and the gloomy picture presented by the gardens. I have no idea + how long I meditated upon those two faces of the human medal; but I was + suddenly aroused by the stifled laughter of a young woman. I was stupefied + at the picture presented to my eyes. By virtue of one of the strangest of + nature’s freaks, the thought half draped in black, which was tossing about + in my brain, emerged from it and stood before me personified, living; it + had come forth like Minerva from Jupiter’s brain, tall and strong; it was + at once a hundred years old and twenty-two; it was alive and dead. Escaped + from his chamber, like a madman from his cell, the little old man had + evidently crept behind a long line of people who were listening + attentively to Marianina’s voice as she finished the cavatina from <i>Tancred</i>. + He seemed to have come up through the floor, impelled by some stage + mechanism. He stood for a moment motionless and sombre, watching the + festivities, a murmur of which had perhaps reached his ears. His almost + somnambulistic preoccupation was so concentrated upon things that, + although he was in the midst of many people, he saw nobody. He had taken + his place unceremoniously beside one of the most fascinating women in + Paris, a young and graceful dancer, with slender figure, a face as fresh + as a child’s, all pink and white, and so fragile, so transparent, that it + seemed that a man’s glance must pass through her as the sun’s rays pass + through flawless glass. They stood there before me, side by side, so close + together, that the stranger rubbed against the gauze dress, and the + wreaths of flowers, and the hair, slightly crimped, and the floating ends + of the sash. + </p> + <p> + I had brought that young woman to Madame de Lanty’s ball. As it was her + first visit to that house, I forgave her her stifled laugh; but I hastily + made an imperious sign which abashed her and inspired respect for her + neighbor. She sat down beside me. The old man did not choose to leave the + charming creature, to whom he clung capriciously with the silent and + apparently causeless obstinacy to which very old persons are subject, and + which makes them resemble children. In order to sit down beside the young + lady he needed a folding-chair. His slightest movements were marked by the + inert heaviness, the stupid hesitancy, which characterize the movements of + a paralytic. He sat slowly down upon his chair with great caution, + mumbling some unintelligible words. His cracked voice resembled the noise + made by a stone falling into a well. The young woman nervously pressed my + hand, as if she were trying to avoid a precipice, and shivered when that + man, at whom she happened to be looking, turned upon her two lifeless, + sea-green eyes, which could be compared to nothing save tarnished + mother-of-pearl. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” she said, putting her lips to my ear. + </p> + <p> + “You can speak,” I replied; “he hears with great difficulty.” + </p> + <p> + “You know him, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon she summoned courage to scrutinize for a moment that creature + for which no human language has a name, form without substance, a being + without life, or life without action. She was under the spell of that + timid curiosity which impels women to seek perilous excitement, to gaze at + chained tigers and boa-constrictors, shuddering all the while because the + barriers between them are so weak. Although the little old man’s back was + bent like a day-laborer’s, it was easy to see that he must formerly have + been of medium height. His excessive thinness, the slenderness of his + limbs, proved that he had always been of slight build. He wore black silk + breeches which hung about his fleshless thighs in folds, like a lowered + veil. An anatomist would instinctively have recognized the symptoms of + consumption in its advanced stages, at sight of the tiny legs which served + to support that strange frame. You would have said that they were a pair + of cross-bones on a gravestone. A feeling of profound horror seized the + heart when a close scrutiny revealed the marks made by decrepitude upon + that frail machine. + </p> + <p> + He wore a white waistcoat embroidered with gold, in the old style, and his + linen was of dazzling whiteness. A shirt-frill of English lace, yellow + with age, the magnificence of which a queen might have envied, formed a + series of yellow ruffles on his breast; but upon him the lace seemed + rather a worthless rag than an ornament. In the centre of the frill a + diamond of inestimable value gleamed like a sun. That superannuated + splendor, that display of treasure, of great intrinsic worth, but utterly + without taste, served to bring out in still bolder relief the strange + creature’s face. The frame was worthy of the portrait. That dark face was + full of angles and furrowed deep in every direction; the chin was + furrowed; there were great hollows at the temples; the eyes were sunken in + yellow orbits. The maxillary bones, which his indescribable gauntness + caused to protrude, formed deep cavities in the centre of both cheeks. + These protuberances, as the light fell upon them, caused curious effects + of light and shadow which deprived that face of its last vestige of + resemblance to the human countenance. And then, too, the lapse of years + had drawn the fine, yellow skin so close to the bones that it described a + multitude of wrinkles everywhere, either circular like the ripples in the + water caused by a stone which a child throws in, or star-shaped like a + pane of glass cracked by a blow; but everywhere very deep, and as close + together as the leaves of a closed book. We often see more hideous old + men; but what contributed more than aught else to give to the spectre that + rose before us the aspect of an artificial creation was the red and white + paint with which he glistened. The eyebrows shone in the light with a + lustre which disclosed a very well executed bit of painting. Luckily for + the eye, saddened by such a mass of ruins, his corpse-like skull was + concealed beneath a light wig, with innumerable curls which indicated + extraordinary pretensions to elegance. Indeed, the feminine coquettishness + of this fantastic apparition was emphatically asserted by the gold + ear-rings which hung at his ears, by the rings containing stones of + marvelous beauty which sparkled on his fingers, like the brilliants in a + river of gems around a woman’s neck. Lastly, this species of Japanese idol + had constantly upon his blue lips, a fixed, unchanging smile, the shadow + of an implacable and sneering laugh, like that of a death’s head. As + silent and motionless as a statue, he exhaled the musk-like odor of the + old dresses which a duchess’ heirs exhume from her wardrobe during the + inventory. If the old man turned his eyes toward the company, it seemed + that the movements of those globes, no longer capable of reflecting a + gleam, were accomplished by an almost imperceptible effort; and, when the + eyes stopped, he who was watching them was not certain finally that they + had moved at all. As I saw, beside that human ruin, a young woman whose + bare neck and arms and breast were white as snow; whose figure was + well-rounded and beautiful in its youthful grace; whose hair, charmingly + arranged above an alabaster forehead, inspired love; whose eyes did not + receive but gave forth light, who was sweet and fresh, and whose fluffy + curls, whose fragrant breath, seemed too heavy, too harsh, too + overpowering for that shadow, for that man of dust—ah! the thought + that came into my mind was of death and life, an imaginary arabesque, a + half-hideous chimera, divinely feminine from the waist up. + </p> + <p> + “And yet such marriages are often made in society!” I said to myself. + </p> + <p> + “He smells of the cemetery!” cried the terrified young woman, grasping my + arm as if to make sure of my protection, and moving about in a restless, + excited way, which convinced me that she was very much frightened. “It’s a + horrible vision,” she continued; “I cannot stay here any longer. If I look + at him again I shall believe that Death himself has come in search of me. + But is he alive?” + </p> + <p> + She placed her hand on the phenomenon, with the boldness which women + derive from the violence of their wishes, but a cold sweat burst from her + pores, for, the instant she touched the old man, she heard a cry like the + noise made by a rattle. That shrill voice, if indeed it were a voice, + escaped from a throat almost entirely dry. It was at once succeeded by a + convulsive little cough like a child’s, of a peculiar resonance. At that + sound, Marianina, Filippo, and Madame de Lanty looked toward us, and their + glances were like lightning flashes. The young woman wished that she were + at the bottom of the Seine. She took my arm and pulled me away toward a + boudoir. Everybody, men and women, made room for us to pass. Having + reached the further end of the suite of reception-rooms, we entered a + small semi-circular cabinet. My companion threw herself on a divan, + breathing fast with terror, not knowing where she was. + </p> + <p> + “You are mad, madame,” I said to her. + </p> + <p> + “But,” she rejoined, after a moment’s silence, during which I gazed at her + in admiration, “is it my fault? Why does Madame de Lanty allow ghosts to + wander round her house?” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense,” I replied; “you are doing just what fools do. You mistake a + little old man for a spectre.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush,” she retorted, with the imposing, yet mocking, air which all women + are so well able to assume when they are determined to put themselves in + the right. “Oh! what a sweet boudoir!” she cried, looking about her. “Blue + satin hangings always produce an admirable effect. How cool it is! Ah! the + lovely picture!” she added, rising and standing in front of a + magnificently framed painting. + </p> + <p> + We stood for a moment gazing at that marvel of art, which seemed the work + of some supernatural brush. The picture represented Adonis stretched out + on a lion’s skin. The lamp, in an alabaster vase, hanging in the centre of + the boudoir, cast upon the canvas a soft light which enabled us to grasp + all the beauties of the picture. + </p> + <p> + “Does such a perfect creature exist?” she asked me, after examining + attentively, and not without a sweet smile of satisfaction, the exquisite + grace of the outlines, the attitude, the color, the hair, in fact + everything. + </p> + <p> + “He is too beautiful for a man,” she added, after such a scrutiny as she + would have bestowed upon a rival. + </p> + <p> + Ah! how sharply I felt at that moment those pangs of jealousy in which a + poet had tried in vain to make me believe! the jealousy of engravings, of + pictures, of statues, wherein artists exaggerate human beauty, as a result + of the doctrine which leads them to idealize everything. + </p> + <p> + “It is a portrait,” I replied. “It is a product of Vien’s genius. But that + great painter never saw the original, and your admiration will be modified + somewhat perhaps, when I tell you that this study was made from a statue + of a woman.” + </p> + <p> + “But who is it?” + </p> + <p> + I hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “I insist upon knowing,” she added earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “I believe,” I said, “that this <i>Adonis</i> represents a—a + relative of Madame de Lanty.” + </p> + <p> + I had the chagrin of seeing that she was lost in contemplation of that + figure. She sat down in silence, and I seated myself beside her and took + her hand without her noticing it. Forgotten for a portrait! At that moment + we heard in the silence a woman’s footstep and the faint rustling of a + dress. We saw the youthful Marianina enter the boudoir, even more + resplendent by reason of her grace and her fresh costume; she was walking + slowly and leading with motherly care, with a daughter’s solicitude, the + spectre in human attire, who had driven us from the music-room; as she led + him, she watched with some anxiety the slow movement of his feeble feet. + They walked painfully across the boudoir to a door hidden in the hangings. + Marianina knocked softly. Instantly a tall, thin man, a sort of familiar + spirit, appeared as if by magic. Before entrusting the old man to this + mysterious guardian, the lovely child, with deep veneration, kissed the + ambulatory corpse, and her chaste caress was not without a touch of that + graceful playfulness, the secret of which only a few privileged women + possess. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Addio, addio!</i>” she said, with the sweetest inflection of her young + voice. + </p> + <p> + She added to the last syllable a wonderfully executed trill, in a very low + tone, as if to depict the overflowing affection of her heart by a poetic + expression. The old man, suddenly arrested by some memory, remained on the + threshold of that secret retreat. In the profound silence we heard the + sigh that came forth form his breast; he removed the most beautiful of the + rings with which his skeleton fingers were laden, and placed it in + Marianina’s bosom. The young madcap laughed, plucked out the ring, slipped + it on one of her fingers over her glove, and ran hastily back toward the + salon, where the orchestra were, at that moment, beginning the prelude of + a contra-dance. + </p> + <p> + She spied us. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! were you here?” she said, blushing. + </p> + <p> + After a searching glance at us as if to question us, she ran away to her + partner with the careless petulance of her years. + </p> + <p> + “What does this mean?” queried my young partner. “Is he her husband? I + believe I am dreaming. Where am I?” + </p> + <p> + “You!” I retorted, “you, madame, who are easily excited, and who, + understanding so well the most imperceptible emotions, are able to + cultivate in a man’s heart the most delicate of sentiments, without + crushing it, without shattering it at the very outset, you who have + compassion for the tortures of the heart, and who, with the wit of the + Parisian, combine a passionate temperament worthy of Spain or Italy——” + </p> + <p> + She realized that my words were heavily charged with bitter irony; and, + thereupon, without seeming to notice it, she interrupted me to say: + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you describe me to suit your own taste. A strange kind of tyranny! + You wish me not to be <i>myself</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I wish nothing,” I cried, alarmed by the severity of her manner. “At + all events, it is true, is it not, that you like to hear stories of the + fierce passions, kindled in our heart by the enchanting women of the + South?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And then?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I will come to your house about nine o’clock to-morrow evening, and + elucidate this mystery for you.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied, with a pout; “I wish it done now.” + </p> + <p> + “You have not yet given me the right to obey you when you say, ‘I wish + it.’” + </p> + <p> + “At this moment,” she said, with an exhibition of coquetry of the sort + that drives men to despair, “I have a most violent desire to know this + secret. To-morrow it may be that I will not listen to you.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled and we parted, she still as proud and as cruel, I as + ridiculous, as ever. She had the audacity to waltz with a young + aide-de-camp, and I was by turns angry, sulky, admiring, loving, and + jealous. + </p> + <p> + “Until to-morrow,” she said to me, as she left the ball about two o’clock + in the morning. + </p> + <p> + “I won’t go,” I thought. “I give up. You are a thousand times more + capricious, more fanciful, than—my imagination.” + </p> + <p> + The next evening we were seated in front of a bright fire in a dainty + little salon, she on a couch, I on cushions almost at her feet, looking up + into her face. The street was silent. The lamp shed a soft light. It was + one of those evenings which delight the soul, one of those moments which + are never forgotten, one of those hours passed in peace and longing, whose + charm is always in later years a source of regret, even when we are + happier. What can efface the deep imprint of the first solicitations of + love? + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” she said. “I am listening.” + </p> + <p> + “But I dare not begin. There are passages in the story which are dangerous + to the narrator. If I become excited, you will make me hold my peace.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak.” + </p> + <p> + “I obey. + </p> + <p> + “Ernest-Jean Sarrasine was the only son of a prosecuting attorney of + Franche-Comte,” I began after a pause. “His father had, by faithful work, + amassed a fortune which yielded an income of six to eight thousand francs, + then considered a colossal fortune for an attorney in the provinces. Old + Maitre Sarrasine, having but one child, determined to give him a thorough + education; he hoped to make a magistrate of him, and to live long enough + to see, in his old age, the grandson of Mathieu Sarrasine, a ploughman in + the Saint-Die country, seated on the lilies, and dozing through the + sessions for the greater glory of the Parliament; but Heaven had not that + joy in store for the attorney. Young Sarrasine, entrusted to the care of + the Jesuits at an early age, gave indications of an extraordinarily unruly + disposition. His was the childhood of a man of talent. He would not study + except as his inclination led him, often rebelled, and sometimes remained + for whole hours at a time buried in tangled meditations, engaged now in + watching his comrades at play, now in forming mental pictures of Homer’s + heroes. And, when he did choose to amuse himself, he displayed + extraordinary ardor in his games. Whenever there was a contest of any sort + between a comrade and himself, it rarely ended without bloodshed. If he + were the weaker, he would use his teeth. Active and passive by turns, + either lacking in aptitude, or too intelligent, his abnormal temperament + caused him to distrust his masters as much as his schoolmates. Instead of + learning the elements of the Greek language, he drew a picture of the + reverend father who was interpreting a passage of Thucydides, sketched the + teacher of mathematics, the prefect, the assistants, the man who + administered punishment, and smeared all the walls with shapeless figures. + Instead of singing the praises of the Lord in the chapel, he amused + himself, during the services, by notching a bench; or, when he had stolen + a piece of wood, he would carve the figure of some saint. If he had no + wood or stone or pencil, he worked out his ideas with bread. Whether he + copied the figures in the pictures which adorned the choir, or improvised, + he always left at this seat rough sketches, whose obscene character drove + the young fathers to despair; and the evil-tongued alleged that the + Jesuits smiled at them. At last, if we are to believe college traditions, + he was expelled because, while awaiting his turn to go to the confessional + one Good Friday, he carved a figure of the Christ from a stick of wood. + The impiety evidenced by that figure was too flagrant not to draw down + chastisement on the artist. He had actually had the hardihood to place + that decidedly cynical image on the top of the tabernacle! + </p> + <p> + “Sarrasine came to Paris to seek a refuge against the threats of a + father’s malediction. Having one of those strong wills which know no + obstacles, he obeyed the behests of his genius and entered Bouchardon’s + studio. He worked all day and went about at night begging for subsistence. + Bouchardon, marveling at the young artist’s intelligence and rapid + progress, soon divined his pupil’s destitute condition; he assisted him, + became attached to him, and treated him like his own child. Then, when + Sarrasine’s genius stood revealed in one of those works wherein future + talent contends with the effervescence of youth, the generous Bouchardon + tried to restore him to the old attorney’s good graces. The paternal wrath + subsided in face of the famous sculptor’s authority. All Besancon + congratulated itself on having brought forth a future great man. In the + first outburst of delight due to his flattered vanity, the miserly + attorney supplied his son with the means to appear to advantage in + society. The long and laborious study demanded by the sculptor’s + profession subdued for a long time Sarrasine’s impetuous temperament and + unruly genius. Bouchardon, foreseeing how violently the passions would + some day rage in that youthful heart, as highly tempered perhaps as + Michelangelo’s, smothered its vehemence with constant toil. He succeeded + in restraining within reasonable bounds Sarrasine’s extraordinary + impetuosity, by forbidding him to work, by proposing diversions when he + saw that he was on the point of plunging into dissipation. But with that + passionate nature, gentleness was always the most powerful of all weapons, + and the master did not acquire great influence over his pupil until he had + aroused his gratitude by fatherly kindness. + </p> + <p> + “At the age of twenty-two Sarrasine was forcibly removed from the salutary + influence which Bouchardon exercised over his morals and his habits. He + paid the penalty of his genius by winning the prize for sculpture founded + by the Marquis de Marigny, Madame de Pompadour’s brother, who did so much + for art. Diderot praised Bouchardon’s pupil’s statue as a masterpiece. Not + without profound sorrow did the king’s sculptor witness the departure for + Italy of a young man whose profound ignorance of the things of life he + had, as a matter of principle, refrained from enlightening. Sarrasine was + Bouchardon’s guest for six years. Fanatically devoted to his art, as + Canova was at a later day, he rose at dawn and went to the studio, there + to remain until night, and lived with his muse alone. If he went to the + Comedie-Francaise, he was dragged thither by his master. He was so bored + at Madame Geoffrin’s, and in the fashionable society to which Bouchardon + tried to introduce him, that he preferred to remain alone, and held aloof + from the pleasures of that licentious age. He had no other mistresses than + sculpture and Clotilde, one of the celebrities of the Opera. Even that + intrigue was of brief duration. Sarrasine was decidedly ugly, always badly + dressed, and naturally so independent, so irregular in his private life, + that the illustrious nymph, dreading some catastrophe, soon remitted the + sculptor to love of the arts. Sophie Arnould made some witty remark on the + subject. She was surprised, I think, that her colleague was able to + triumph over statues. + </p> + <p> + “Sarrasine started for Italy in 1758. On the journey his ardent + imagination took fire beneath a sky of copper and at the sight of the + marvelous monuments with which the fatherland of the arts is strewn. He + admired the statues, the frescoes, the pictures; and, fired with a spirit + of emulation, he went on to Rome, burning to inscribe his name between the + names of Michelangelo and Bouchardon. At first, therefore, he divided his + time between his studio work and examination of the works of art which + abound in Rome. He had already passed a fortnight in the ecstatic state + into which all youthful imaginations fall at the sight of the queen of + ruins, when he happened one evening to enter the Argentina theatre, in + front of which there was an enormous crowd. He inquired the reasons for + the presence of so great a throng, and every one answered by two names: + </p> + <p> + “‘Zambinella! Jomelli!’ + </p> + <p> + “He entered and took a seat in the pit, crowded between two unconscionably + stout <i>abbati</i>; but luckily he was quite near the stage. The curtain + rose. For the first time in his life he heard the music whose charms + Monsieur Jean-Jacques Rousseau had extolled so eloquently at one of Baron + d’Holbach’s evening parties. The young sculptor’s senses were lubricated, + so to speak, by Jomelli’s harmonious strains. The languorous peculiarities + of those skilfully blended Italian voices plunged him in an ecstasy of + delight. He sat there, mute and motionless, not even conscious of the + crowding of the two priests. His soul poured out through his ears and his + eyes. He seemed to be listening with every one of his pores. Suddenly a + whirlwind of applause greeted the appearance of the prima donna. She came + forward coquettishly to the footlights and curtsied to the audience with + infinite grace. The brilliant light, the enthusiasm of a vast multitude, + the illusion of the stage, the glamour of a costume which was most + attractive for the time, all conspired in that woman’s favor. Sarrasine + cried aloud with pleasure. He saw before him at that moment the ideal + beauty whose perfections he had hitherto sought here and there in nature, + taking from one model, often of humble rank, the rounded outline of a + shapely leg, from another the contour of the breast; from another her + white shoulders; stealing the neck of that young girl, the hands of this + woman, and the polished knees of yonder child, but never able to find + beneath the cold skies of Paris the rich and satisfying creations of + ancient Greece. La Zambinella displayed in her single person, intensely + alive and delicate beyond words, all those exquisite proportions of the + female form which he had so ardently longed to behold, and of which a + sculptor is the most severe and at the same time the most passionate + judge. She had an expressive mouth, eyes instinct with love, flesh of + dazzling whiteness. And add to these details, which would have filled a + painter’s soul with rapture, all the marvelous charms of the Venuses + worshiped and copied by the chisel of the Greeks. The artist did not tire + of admiring the inimitable grace with which the arms were attached to the + body, the wonderful roundness of the throat, the graceful curves described + by the eyebrows and the nose, and the perfect oval of the face, the purity + of its clean-cut lines, and the effect of the thick, drooping lashes which + bordered the large and voluptuous eyelids. She was more than a woman; she + was a masterpiece! In that unhoped-for creation there was love enough to + enrapture all mankind, and beauties calculated to satisfy the most + exacting critic. + </p> + <p> + “Sarrasine devoured with his eyes what seemed to him Pygmalion’s statue + descended from its pedestal. When La Zambinella sang, he was beside + himself. He was cold; then suddenly he felt a fire burning in the secret + depths of his being, in what, for lack of a better word, we call the + heart. He did not applaud, he said nothing; he felt a mad impulse, a sort + of frenzy of the sort that seizes us only at the age when there is a + something indefinably terrible and infernal in our desires. Sarrasine + longed to rush upon the stage and seize that woman. His strength, + increased a hundredfold by a moral depression impossible to describe,—for + such phenomena take place in a sphere inaccessible to human observation,—insisted + upon manifesting itself with deplorable violence. Looking at him, you + would have said that he was a cold, dull man. Renown, science, future, + life, prizes, all vanished. + </p> + <p> + “‘To win her love or die!’ Such was the sentence Sarrasine pronounced upon + himself. + </p> + <p> + “He was so completely intoxicated that he no longer saw theatre, audience, + or actors, no longer heard the music. Nay, more, there was no space + between him and La Zambinella; he possessed her; his eyes, fixed + steadfastly upon her, took possession of her. An almost diabolical power + enabled him to feel the breath of that voice, to inhale the fragrant + powder with which her hair was covered, to see the slightest inequalities + of her face, to count the blue veins which threaded their way beneath the + satiny skin. And that fresh, brisk voice of silvery <i>timbre</i>, + flexible as a thread to which the faintest breath of air gives form, which + it rolls and unrolls, tangles and blows away, that voice attacked his + heart so fiercely that he more than once uttered an involuntary + exclamation, extorted by the convulsive ecstasy too rarely evoked by human + passions. He was soon obliged to leave the theatre. His trembling legs + almost refused to bear him. He was prostrated, weak, like a nervous man + who has given way to a terrible burst of anger. He had had such exquisite + pleasure, or perhaps had suffered so, that his life had flowed away like + water from an overturned vessel. He felt a void within him, a sense of + goneness like the utter lack of strength which discourages a convalescent + just recovering from a serious sickness. Overwhelmed by inexplicable + melancholy, he sat down on the steps of a church. There, with his back + resting against a pillar, he lost himself in a fit of meditation as + confused as a dream. Passion had dealt him a crushing blow. On his return + to his apartments he was seized by one of those paroxysms of activity + which reveal to us the presence of new principles in our existence. A prey + to that first fever of love which resembles pain as much as pleasure, he + sought to defeat his impatience and his frenzy by sketching La Zambinella + from memory. It was a sort of material meditation. Upon one leaf La + Zambinella appeared in that pose, apparently calm and cold, affected by + Raphael, Georgione, and all the great painters. On another, she was coyly + turning her head as she finished a roulade, and seemed to be listening to + herself. Sarrasine drew his mistress in all poses: he drew her unveiled, + seated, standing, reclining, chaste, and amorous—interpreting, + thanks to the delirious activity of his pencil, all the fanciful ideas + which beset our imagination when our thoughts are completely engrossed by + a mistress. But his frantic thoughts outran his pencil. He met La + Zambinella, spoke to her, entreated her, exhausted a thousand years of + life and happiness with her, placing her in all imaginable situations, + trying the future with her, so to speak. The next day he sent his servant + to hire a box near the stage for the whole season. Then, like all young + men of powerful feelings, he exaggerated the difficulties of his + undertaking, and gave his passion, for its first pasturage, the joy of + being able to admire his mistress without obstacle. The golden age of + love, during which we enjoy our own sentiments, and in which we are almost + as happy by ourselves, was not likely to last long with Sarrasine. + However, events surprised him when he was still under the spell of that + springtime hallucination, as naive as it was voluptuous. In a week he + lived a whole lifetime, occupied through the day in molding the clay with + which he succeeded in copying La Zambinella, notwithstanding the veils, + the skirts, the waists, and the bows of ribbon which concealed her from + him. In the evening, installed at an early hour in his box, alone, + reclining on a sofa, he made for himself, like a Turk drunk with opium, a + happiness as fruitful, as lavish, as he wished. First of all, he + familiarized himself gradually with the too intense emotions which his + mistress’ singing caused him; then he taught his eyes to look at her, and + was finally able to contemplate her at his leisure without fearing an + explosion of concealed frenzy, like that which had seized him the first + day. His passion became more profound as it became more tranquil. But the + unsociable sculptor would not allow his solitude, peopled as it was with + images, adorned with the fanciful creations of hope, and full of + happiness, to be disturbed by his comrades. His love was so intense and so + ingenuous, that he had to undergo the innocent scruples with which we are + assailed when we love for the first time. As he began to realize that he + would soon be required to bestir himself, to intrigue, to ask where La + Zambinella lived, to ascertain whether she had a mother, an uncle, a + guardian, a family,—in a word, as he reflected upon the methods of + seeing her, of speaking to her, he felt that his heart was so swollen with + such ambitious ideas, that he postponed those cares until the following + day, as happy in his physical sufferings as in his intellectual + pleasures.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Madame de Rochefide, interrupting me, “I see nothing of + Marianina or her little old man in all this.” + </p> + <p> + “You see nothing but him!” I cried, as vexed as an author for whom some + one has spoiled the effect of a <i>coup de theatre</i>. + </p> + <p> + “For some days,” I resumed after a pause, “Sarrasine had been so faithful + in attendance in his box, and his glances expressed such passionate love, + that his passion for La Zambinella’s voice would have been the town-talk + of Paris, if the episode had happened here; but in Italy, madame, every + one goes to the theatre for his own enjoyment, with all his own passions, + with a heartfelt interest which precludes all thought of espionage with + opera-glasses. However, the sculptor’s frantic admiration could not long + escape the notice of the performers, male and female. One evening the + Frenchman noticed that they were laughing at him in the wings. It is hard + to say what violent measures he might have resorted to, had not La + Zambinella come on the stage. She cast at Sarrasine one of those eloquent + glances which often say more than women intend. That glance was a complete + revelation in itself. Sarrasine was beloved! + </p> + <p> + “‘If it is a mere caprice,’ he thought, already accusing his mistress of + too great ardor, ‘she does not know the sort of domination to which she is + about to become subject. Her caprice will last, I trust, as long as my + life.’ + </p> + <p> + “At that moment, three light taps on the door of his box attracted the + artist’s attention. He opened the door. An old woman entered with an air + of mystery. + </p> + <p> + “‘Young man,’ she said, ‘if you wish to be happy, be prudent. Wrap + yourself in a cloak, pull a broad-brimmed hat over your eyes, and be on + the Rue du Corso, in front of the Hotel d’Espagne, about ten o’clock + to-night.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I will be there,’ he replied, putting two louis in the duenna’s wrinkled + hand. + </p> + <p> + “He rushed from his box, after a sign of intelligence to La Zambinella, + who lowered her voluptuous eyelids modestly, like a woman overjoyed to be + understood at last. Then he hurried home, in order to borrow from his + wardrobe all the charms it could loan him. As he left the theatre, a + stranger grasped his arm. + </p> + <p> + “‘Beware, Signor Frenchman,’ he said in his ear. ‘This is a matter of life + and death. Cardinal Cicognara is her protector, and he is no trifler.’ + </p> + <p> + “If a demon had placed the deep pit of hell between Sarrasine and La + Zambinella, he would have crossed it with one stride at that moment. Like + the horses of the immortal gods described by Homer, the sculptor’s love + had traversed vast spaces in a twinkling. + </p> + <p> + “‘If death awaited me on leaving the house, I would go the more quickly,’ + he replied. + </p> + <p> + “‘<i>Poverino!</i>’ cried the stranger, as he disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “To talk of danger to a man in love is to sell him pleasure. Sarrasine’s + valet had never seen his master so painstaking in the matter of dress. His + finest sword, a gift from Bouchardon, the bow-knot Clotilde gave him, his + coat with gold braid, his waistcoat of cloth of silver, his gold + snuff-box, his valuable watch, everything was taken from its place, and he + arrayed himself like a maiden about to appear before her first lover. At + the appointed hour, drunk with love and boiling over with hope, Sarrasine, + his nose buried in his cloak, hurried to the rendezvous appointed by the + old woman. She was waiting. + </p> + <p> + “‘You are very late,’ she said. ‘Come.’ + </p> + <p> + “She led the Frenchman through several narrow streets and stopped in front + of a palace of attractive appearance. She knocked; the door opened. She + led Sarrasine through a labyrinth of stairways, galleries, and apartments + which were lighted only by uncertain gleams of moonlight, and soon reached + a door through the cracks of which stole a bright light, and from which + came the joyous sound of several voices. Sarrasine was suddenly blinded + when, at a word from the old woman, he was admitted to that mysterious + apartment and found himself in a salon as brilliantly lighted as it was + sumptuously furnished; in the centre stood a bountifully supplied table, + laden with inviolable bottles, with laughing decanters whose red facets + sparkled merrily. He recognized the singers from the theatre, male and + female, mingled with charming women, all ready to begin an artists’ spree + and waiting only for him. Sarrasine restrained a feeling of displeasure + and put a good face on the matter. He had hoped for a dimly lighted + chamber, his mistress leaning over a brazier, a jealous rival within two + steps, death and love, confidences exchanged in low tones, heart to heart, + hazardous kisses, and faces so near together that La Zambinella’s hair + would have touched caressingly his desire-laden brow, burning with + happiness. + </p> + <p> + “‘<i>Vive la folie!</i>’ he cried. ‘<i>Signori e belle donne</i>, you will + allow me to postpone my revenge and bear witness to my gratitude for the + welcome you offer a poor sculptor.’ + </p> + <p> + “After receiving congratulations not lacking in warmth from most of those + present, whom he knew by sight, he tried to approach the couch on which La + Zambinella was nonchalantly reclining. Ah! how his heart beat when he + spied a tiny foot in one of those slippers which—if you will allow + me to say so, madame—formerly imparted to a woman’s feet such a + coquettish, voluptuous look that I cannot conceive how men could resist + them. Tightly fitting white stockings with green clocks, short skirts, and + the pointed, high-heeled slippers of Louis XV.‘s time contributed + somewhat, I fancy, to the demoralization of Europe and the clergy.” + </p> + <p> + “Somewhat!” exclaimed the marchioness. “Have you read nothing, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “La Zambinella,” I continued, smiling, “had boldly crossed her legs, and + as she prattled swung the upper one, a duchess’ attitude very well suited + to her capricious type of beauty, overflowing with a certain attractive + suppleness. She had laid aside her stage costume, and wore a waist which + outlined a slender figure, displayed to the best advantage by a <i>panier</i> + and a satin dress embroidered with blue flowers. Her breast, whose + treasures were concealed by a coquettish arrangement of lace, was of a + gleaming white. Her hair was dressed almost like Madame du Barry’s; her + face, although overshadowed by a large cap, seemed only the daintier + therefor, and the powder was very becoming to her. She smiled graciously + at the sculptor. Sarrasine, disgusted beyond measure at finding himself + unable to speak to her without witnesses, courteously seated himself + beside her, and discoursed of music, extolling her prodigious talent; but + his voice trembled with love and fear and hope. + </p> + <p> + “‘What do you fear?’ queried Vitagliani, the most celebrated singer in the + troupe. ‘Go on, you have no rival here to fear.’ + </p> + <p> + “After he had said this the tenor smiled silently. The lips of all the + guests repeated that smile, in which there was a lurking expression of + malice likely to escape a lover. The publicity of his love was like a + sudden dagger-thrust in Sarrasine’s heart. Although possessed of a certain + strength of character, and although nothing that might happen could subdue + the violence of his passion, it had not before occurred to him that La + Zambinella was almost a courtesan, and that he could not hope to enjoy at + one and the same time the pure delights which would make a maiden’s love + so sweet, and the passionate transports with which one must purchase the + perilous favors of an actress. He reflected and resigned himself to his + fate. The supper was served. Sarrasine and La Zambinella seated themselves + side by side without ceremony. During the first half of the feast the + artists exercised some restraint, and the sculptor was able to converse + with the singer. He found that she was very bright and quick-witted; but + she was amazingly ignorant and seemed weak and superstitious. The delicacy + of her organs was reproduced in her understanding. When Vitagliani opened + the first bottle of champagne, Sarrasine read in his neighbor’s eyes a + shrinking dread of the report caused by the release of the gas. The + involuntary shudder of that thoroughly feminine temperament was + interpreted by the amorous artist as indicating extreme delicacy of + feeling. This weakness delighted the Frenchman. There is so much of the + element of protection in a man’s love! + </p> + <p> + “‘You may make use of my power as a shield!’ + </p> + <p> + “Is not that sentence written at the root of all declarations of love? + Sarrasine, who was too passionately in love to make fine speeches to the + fair Italian, was, like all lovers, grave, jovial, meditative, by turns. + Although he seemed to listen to the guests, he did not hear a word that + they said, he was so wrapped up in the pleasure of sitting by her side, of + touching her hand, of waiting on her. He was swimming in a sea of + concealed joy. Despite the eloquence of divers glances they exchanged, he + was amazed at La Zambinella’s continued reserve toward him. She had begun, + it is true, by touching his foot with hers and stimulating his passion + with the mischievous pleasure of a woman who is free and in love; but she + had suddenly enveloped herself in maidenly modesty, after she had heard + Sarrasine relate an incident which illustrated the extreme violence of his + temper. When the supper became a debauch, the guests began to sing, + inspired by the Peralta and the Pedro-Ximenes. There were fascinating + duets, Calabrian ballads, Spanish <i>sequidillas</i>, and Neapolitan <i>canzonettes</i>. + Drunkenness was in all eyes, in the music, in the hearts and voices of the + guests. There was a sudden overflow of bewitching vivacity, of cordial + unconstraint, of Italian good nature, of which no words can convey an idea + to those who know only the evening parties of Paris, the routs of London, + or the clubs of Vienna. Jests and words of love flew from side to side + like bullets in a battle, amid laughter, impieties, invocations to the + Blessed Virgin or the <i>Bambino</i>. One man lay on a sofa and fell + asleep. A young woman listened to a declaration, unconscious that she was + spilling Xeres wine on the tablecloth. Amid all this confusion La + Zambinella, as if terror-stricken, seemed lost in thought. She refused to + drink, but ate perhaps a little too much; but gluttony is attractive in + women, it is said. Sarrasine, admiring his mistress’ modesty, indulged in + serious reflections concerning the future. + </p> + <p> + “‘She desires to be married, I presume,’ he said to himself. + </p> + <p> + “Thereupon he abandoned himself to blissful anticipations of marriage with + her. It seemed to him that his whole life would be too short to exhaust + the living spring of happiness which he found in the depths of his heart. + Vitagliani, who sat on his other side, filled his glass so often that, + about three in the morning, Sarrasine, while not absolutely drunk, was + powerless to resist his delirious passion. In a moment of frenzy he seized + the woman and carried her to a sort of boudoir which opened from the + salon, and toward which he had more than once turned his eyes. The Italian + was armed with a dagger. + </p> + <p> + “‘If you come hear me,’ she said, ‘I shall be compelled to plunge this + blade into your heart. Go! you would despise me. I have conceived too + great a respect for your character to abandon myself to you thus. I do not + choose to destroy the sentiment with which you honor me.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Ah!’ said Sarrasine, ‘to stimulate a passion is a poor way to extinguish + it! Are you already so corrupt that, being old in heart, you act like a + young prostitute who inflames the emotions in which she trades?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Why, this is Friday,’ she replied, alarmed by the Frenchman’s violence. + </p> + <p> + “Sarrasine, who was not piously inclined, began to laugh. La Zambinella + gave a bound like a young deer, and darted into the salon. When Sarrasine + appeared, running after her, he was welcomed by a roar of infernal + laughter. He saw La Zambinella swooning on a sofa. She was very pale, as + if exhausted by the extraordinary effort she had made. Although Sarrasine + knew but little Italian, he understood his mistress when she said to + Vitagliani in a low voice: + </p> + <p> + “‘But he will kill me!’ + </p> + <p> + “This strange scene abashed the sculptor. His reason returned. He stood + still for a moment; then he recovered his speech, sat down beside his + mistress, and assured her of his profound respect. He found strength to + hold his passion in check while talking to her in the most exalted strain; + and, to describe his love, he displayed all the treasures of eloquence—that + sorcerer, that friendly interpreter, whom women rarely refuse to believe. + When the first rays of dawn surprised the boon companions, some woman + suggested that they go to Frascati. One and all welcomed with loud + applause the idea of passing the day at Villa Ludovisi. Vitagliani went + down to hire carriages. Sarrasine had the good fortune to drive La + Zambinella in a phaeton. When they had left Rome behind, the merriment of + the party, repressed for a moment by the battle they had all been fighting + against drowsiness, suddenly awoke. All, men and women alike, seemed + accustomed to that strange life, that constant round of pleasures, that + artistic energy, which makes of life one never ending <i>fete</i>, where + laughter reigns, unchecked by fear of the future. The sculptor’s companion + was the only one who seemed out of spirits. + </p> + <p> + “‘Are you ill?’ Sarrasine asked her. ‘Would you prefer to go home?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I am not strong enough to stand all this dissipation,’ she replied. ‘I + have to be very careful; but I feel so happy with you! Except for you, I + should not have remained to this supper; a night like this takes away all + my freshness.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You are so delicate!’ rejoined Sarrasine, gazing in rapture at the + charming creature’s dainty features. + </p> + <p> + “‘Dissipation ruins my voice.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Now that we are alone,’ cried the artist, ‘and that you no longer have + reason to fear the effervescence of my passion, tell me that you love me.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Why?’ said she; ‘for what good purpose? You think me pretty. But you are + a Frenchman, and your fancy will pass away. Ah! you would not love me as I + should like to be loved.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘How?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Purely, with no mingling of vulgar passion. I abhor men even more, + perhaps than I hate women. I need to take refuge in friendship. The world + is a desert to me. I am an accursed creature, doomed to understand + happiness, to feel it, to desire it, and like many, many others, compelled + to see it always fly from me. Remember, signor, that I have not deceived + you. I forbid you to love me. I can be a devoted friend to you, for I + admire your strength of will and your character. I need a brother, a + protector. Be both of these to me, but nothing more.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘And not love you!’ cried Sarrasine; ‘but you are my life, my happiness, + dear angel!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘If I should say a word, you would spurn me with horror.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Coquette! nothing can frighten me. Tell me that you will cost me my + whole future, that I shall die two months hence, that I shall be damned + for having kissed you but once——’ + </p> + <p> + “And he kissed her, despite La Zambinella’s efforts to avoid that + passionate caress. + </p> + <p> + “‘Tell me that you are a demon, that I must give you my fortune, my name, + all my renown! Would you have me cease to be a sculptor? Speak.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Suppose I were not a woman?’ queried La Zambinella, timidly, in a sweet, + silvery voice. + </p> + <p> + “‘A merry jest!’ cried Sarrasine. ‘Think you that you can deceive an + artist’s eye? Have I not, for ten days past, admired, examined, devoured, + thy perfections? None but a woman can have this soft and beautifully + rounded arm, these graceful outlines. Ah! you seek compliments!’ + </p> + <p> + “She smiled sadly, and murmured: + </p> + <p> + “‘Fatal beauty!’ + </p> + <p> + “She raised her eyes to the sky. At that moment, there was in her eyes an + indefinable expression of horror, so startling, so intense, that Sarrasine + shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “‘Signor Frenchman,’ she continued, ‘forget forever a moment’s madness. I + esteem you, but as for love, do not ask me for that; that sentiment is + suffocated in my heart. I have no heart!’ she cried, weeping bitterly. + ‘The stage on which you saw me, the applause, the music, the renown to + which I am condemned—those are my life; I have no other. A few hours + hence you will no longer look upon me with the same eyes, the woman you + love will be dead.’ + </p> + <p> + “The sculptor did not reply. He was seized with a dull rage which + contracted his heart. He could do nothing but gaze at that extraordinary + woman, with inflamed, burning eyes. That feeble voice, La Zambinella’s + attitude, manners, and gestures, instinct with dejection, melancholy, and + discouragement, reawakened in his soul all the treasures of passion. Each + word was a spur. At that moment, they arrived at Frascati. When the artist + held out his arms to help his mistress to alight, he felt that she + trembled from head to foot. + </p> + <p> + “‘What is the matter? You would kill me,’ he cried, seeing that she turned + pale, ‘if you should suffer the slightest pain of which I am, even + innocently, the cause.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘A snake!’ she said, pointing to a reptile which was gliding along the + edge of a ditch. ‘I am afraid of the disgusting creatures.’ + </p> + <p> + “Sarrasine crushed the snake’s head with a blow of his foot. + </p> + <p> + “‘How could you dare to do it?’ said La Zambinella, gazing at the dead + reptile with visible terror. + </p> + <p> + “‘Aha!’ said the artist, with a smile, ‘would you venture to say now that + you are not a woman?’ + </p> + <p> + “They joined their companions and walked through the woods of Villa + Ludovisi, which at that time belonged to Cardinal Cicognara. The morning + passed all too swiftly for the amorous sculptor, but it was crowded with + incidents which laid bare to him the coquetry, the weakness, the + daintiness, of that pliant, inert soul. She was a true woman with her + sudden terrors, her unreasoning caprices, her instinctive worries, her + causeless audacity, her bravado, and her fascinating delicacy of feeling. + At one time, as the merry little party of singers ventured out into the + open country, they saw at some distance a number of men armed to the + teeth, whose costume was by no means reassuring. At the words, ‘Those are + brigands!’ they all quickened their pace in order to reach the shelter of + the wall enclosing the cardinal’s villa. At that critical moment Sarrasine + saw from La Zambinella’s manner that she no longer had strength to walk; + he took her in his arms and carried her for some distance, running. When + he was within call of a vineyard near by, he set his mistress down. + </p> + <p> + “‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘why it is that this extreme weakness which in + another woman would be hideous, would disgust me, so that the slightest + indication of it would be enough to destroy my love,—why is it that + in you it pleases me, fascinates me? Oh, how I love you!’ he continued. + ‘All your faults, your frights, your petty foibles, add an indescribable + charm to your character. I feel that I should detest a Sappho, a strong, + courageous woman, overflowing with energy and passion. O sweet and fragile + creature! how couldst thou be otherwise? That angel’s voice, that refined + voice, would have been an anachronism coming from any other breast than + thine.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I can give you no hope,’ she said. ‘Cease to speak thus to me, for + people would make sport of you. It is impossible for me to shut the door + of the theatre to you; but if you love me, or if you are wise, you will + come there no more. Listen to me, monsieur,’ she continued in a grave + voice. + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh, hush!’ said the excited artist. ‘Obstacles inflame the love in my + heart.’ + </p> + <p> + “La Zambinella maintained a graceful and modest attitude; but she held her + peace, as if a terrible thought had suddenly revealed some catastrophe. + When it was time to return to Rome she entered a berlin with four seats, + bidding the sculptor, with a cruelly imperious air, to return alone in the + phaeton. On the road, Sarrasine determined to carry off La Zambinella. He + passed the whole day forming plans, each more extravagant than the last. + At nightfall, as he was going out to inquire of somebody where his + mistress lived, he met one of his fellow-artists at the door. + </p> + <p> + “‘My dear fellow,’ he said, I am sent by our ambassador to invite you to + come to the embassy this evening. He gives a magnificent concert, and when + I tell you that La Zambinella will be there—’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Zambinella!’ cried Sarrasine, thrown into delirium by that name; ‘I am + mad with love of her.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You are like everybody else,’ replied his comrade. + </p> + <p> + “‘But if you are friends of mine, you and Vien and Lauterbourg and + Allegrain, you will lend me your assistance for a <i>coup de main</i>, + after the entertainment, will you not?’ asked Sarrasine. + </p> + <p> + “‘There’s no cardinal to be killed? no—?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No, no!’ said Sarrasine, ‘I ask nothing of you that men of honor may not + do.’ + </p> + <p> + “In a few moments the sculptor laid all his plans to assure the success of + his enterprise. He was one of the last to arrive at the ambassador’s, but + he went thither in a traveling carriage drawn by four stout horses and + driven by one of the most skilful <i>vetturini</i> in Rome. The + ambassador’s palace was full of people; not without difficulty did the + sculptor, whom nobody knew, make his way to the salon where La Zambinella + was singing at that moment. + </p> + <p> + “‘It must be in deference to all the cardinals, bishops, and <i>abbes</i> + who are here,’ said Sarrasine, ‘that <i>she</i> is dressed as a man, that + <i>she</i> has curly hair which <i>she</i> wears in a bag, and that <i>she</i> + has a sword at her side?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘She! what she?’ rejoined the old nobleman whom Sarrasine addressed. + </p> + <p> + “‘La Zambinella.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘La Zambinella!’ echoed the Roman prince. ‘Are you jesting? Whence have + you come? Did a woman ever appear in a Roman theatre? And do you not know + what sort of creatures play female parts within the domains of the Pope? + It was I, monsieur, who endowed Zambinella with his voice. I paid all the + knave’s expenses, even his teacher in singing. And he has so little + gratitude for the service I have done him that he has never been willing + to step inside my house. And yet, if he makes his fortune, he will owe it + all to me.’ + </p> + <p> + “Prince Chigi might have talked on forever, Sarrasine did not listen to + him. A ghastly truth had found its way into his mind. He was stricken as + if by a thunderbolt. He stood like a statue, his eyes fastened on the + singer. His flaming glance exerted a sort of magnetic influence on + Zambinella, for he turned his eyes at last in Sarrasine’s direction, and + his divine voice faltered. He trembled! An involuntary murmur escaped the + audience, which he held fast as if fastened to his lips; and that + completely disconcerted him; he stopped in the middle of the aria he was + singing and sat down. Cardinal Cicognara, who had watched from the corner + of his eye the direction of his <i>protege’s</i> glance, saw the + Frenchman; he leaned toward one of his ecclesiastical aides-de-camp, and + apparently asked the sculptor’s name. When he had obtained the reply he + desired he scrutinized the artist with great attention and gave orders to + an <i>abbe</i>, who instantly disappeared. Meanwhile Zambinella, having + recovered his self-possession, resumed the aria he had so capriciously + broken off; but he sang badly, and refused, despite all the persistent + appeals showered upon him, to sing anything else. It was the first time he + had exhibited that humorsome tyranny, which, at a later date, contributed + no less to his celebrity than his talent and his vast fortune, which was + said to be due to his beauty as much as to his voice. + </p> + <p> + “‘It’s a woman,’ said Sarrasine, thinking that no one could overhear him. + ‘There’s some secret intrigue beneath all this. Cardinal Cicognara is + hoodwinking the Pope and the whole city of Rome!’ + </p> + <p> + “The sculptor at once left the salon, assembled his friends, and lay in + wait in the courtyard of the palace. When Zambinella was assured of + Sarrasine’s departure he seemed to recover his tranquillity in some + measure. About midnight after wandering through the salons like a man + looking for an enemy, the <i>musico</i> left the party. As he passed + through the palace gate he was seized by men who deftly gagged him with a + handkerchief and placed him in the carriage hired by Sarrasine. Frozen + with terror, Zambinella lay back in a corner, not daring to move a muscle. + He saw before him the terrible face of the artist, who maintained a + deathlike silence. The journey was a short one. Zambinella, kidnaped by + Sarrasine, soon found himself in a dark, bare studio. He sat, half dead, + upon a chair, hardly daring to glance at a statue of a woman, in which he + recognized his own features. He did not utter a word, but his teeth were + chattering; he was paralyzed with fear. Sarrasine was striding up and down + the studio. Suddenly he halted in front of Zambinella. + </p> + <p> + “‘Tell me the truth,’ he said, in a changed and hollow voice. ‘Are you not + a woman? Cardinal Cicognara——’ + </p> + <p> + “Zambinella fell on his knees, and replied only by hanging his head. + </p> + <p> + “‘Ah! you are a woman!’ cried the artist in a frenzy; ‘for even a—’ + </p> + <p> + “He did not finish the sentence. + </p> + <p> + “‘No,’ he continued, ‘even <i>he</i> could not be so utterly base.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh, do not kill me!’ cried Zambinella, bursting into tears. ‘I consented + to deceive you only to gratify my comrades, who wanted an opportunity to + laugh.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Laugh!’ echoed the sculptor, in a voice in which there was a ring of + infernal ferocity. ‘Laugh! laugh! You dared to make sport of a man’s + passion—you?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh, mercy!’ cried Zambinella. + </p> + <p> + “‘I ought to kill you!’ shouted Sarrasine, drawing his sword in an + outburst of rage. ‘But,’ he continued, with cold disdain, ‘if I searched + your whole being with this blade, should I find there any sentiment to + blot out, anything with which to satisfy my thirst for vengeance? You are + nothing! If you were a man or a woman, I would kill you, but—’ + </p> + <p> + “Sarrasine made a gesture of disgust, and turned his face away; thereupon + he noticed the statue. + </p> + <p> + “‘And that is a delusion!’ he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Then, turning to Zambinella once more, he continued: + </p> + <p> + “‘A woman’s heart was to me a place of refuge, a fatherland. Have you + sisters who resemble you? No. Then die! But no, you shall live. To leave + you your life is to doom you to a fate worse than death. I regret neither + my blood nor my life, but my future and the fortune of my heart. Your weak + hand has overturned my happiness. What hope can I extort from you in place + of all those you have destroyed? You have brought me down to your level. + <i>To love, to be loved!</i> are henceforth meaningless words to me, as to + you. I shall never cease to think of that imaginary woman when I see a + real woman.’ + </p> + <p> + “He pointed to the statue with a gesture of despair. + </p> + <p> + “‘I shall always have in my memory a divine harpy who will bury her talons + in all my manly sentiments, and who will stamp all other women with a seal + of imperfection. Monster! you, who can give life to nothing, have swept + all women off the face of the earth.’ + </p> + <p> + “Sarrasine seated himself in front of the terrified singer. Two great + tears came from his dry eyes, rolled down his swarthy cheeks, and fell to + the floor—two tears of rage, two scalding, burning tears. + </p> + <p> + “‘An end of love! I am dead to all pleasure, to all human emotions!’ + </p> + <p> + “As he spoke, he seized a hammer and hurled it at the statue with such + excessive force that he missed it. He thought that he had destroyed that + monument of his madness, and thereupon he drew his sword again, and raised + it to kill the singer. Zambinella uttered shriek after shriek. Three men + burst into the studio at that moment, and the sculptor fell, pieced by + three daggers. + </p> + <p> + “‘From Cardinal Cicognara,’ said one of the men. + </p> + <p> + “‘A benefaction worthy of a Christian,’ retorted the Frenchman, as he + breathed his last. + </p> + <p> + “These ominous emissaries told Zambinella of the anxiety of his patron, + who was waiting at the door in a closed carriage in order to take him away + as soon as he was set at liberty.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Madame de Rochefide, “what connection is there between this + story and the little old man we saw at the Lantys’?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, Cardinal Cicognara took possession of Zambinella’s statue and had + it reproduced in marble; it is in the Albani Museum to-day. In 1794 the + Lanty family discovered it there, and asked Vien to copy it. The portrait + which showed you Zambinella at twenty, a moment after you had seen him as + a centenarian, afterward figured in Girodet’s <i>Endymion</i>; you + yourself recognized the type in <i>Adonis</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “But this Zambinella, male or female—” + </p> + <p> + “Must be, madame, Marianina’s maternal great uncle. You can conceive now + Madame de Lanty’s interest in concealing the source of a fortune which + comes—” + </p> + <p> + “Enough!” said she, with an imperious gesture. + </p> + <p> + We remained for a moment in the most profound silence. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” I said at last. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she cried, rising and pacing the floor. + </p> + <p> + She came and looked me in the face, and said in an altered voice: + </p> + <p> + “You have disgusted me with life and passion for a long time to come. + Leaving monstrosities aside, are not all human sentiments dissolved thus, + by ghastly disillusionment? Children torture mothers by their bad conduct, + or their lack of affection. Wives are betrayed. Mistresses are cast aside, + abandoned. Talk of friendship! Is there such a thing! I would turn pious + to-morrow if I did not know that I can remain like the inaccessible summit + of a cliff amid the tempests of life. If the future of the Christian is an + illusion too, at all events it is not destroyed until after death. Leave + me to myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said I, “you know how to punish.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I in the wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I replied, with a sort of desperate courage. “By finishing this + story, which is well known in Italy, I can give you an excellent idea of + the progress made by the civilization of the present day. There are none + of those wretched creatures now.” + </p> + <p> + “Paris,” said she, “is an exceedingly hospitable place; it welcomes one + and all, fortunes stained with shame, and fortunes stained with blood. + Crime and infamy have a right of asylum here; virtue alone is without + altars. But pure hearts have a fatherland in heaven! No one will have + known me! I am proud of it.” + </p> + <p> + And the marchioness was lost in thought. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + ADDENDUM + </h2> + <h3> + The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Carigliano, Marechal, Duc de + At the Sign of the Cat and Racket + Father Goriot + + Lanty, Comte de + The Member for Arcis + + Lanty, Comtesse de + The Member for Arcis + + Lanty, Marianina de + The Member for Arcis + + Lanty, Filippo de + The Member for Arcis + + Rochefide, Marquise de + Beatrix + The Secrets of a Princess + A Daughter of Eve + A Prince of Bohemia + + Sarrasine, Ernest-Jean + The Member for Arcis + + Vien, Joseph-Marie + The Member for Arcis + + Zambinella + The Member for Arcis +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sarrasine, by Honore de Balzac + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SARRASINE *** + +***** This file should be named 1826-h.htm or 1826-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/2/1826/ + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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